Half Dome - Part 1

Sometimes you see a final image, near complete, in your mind’s eye the moment you see the subject.  It hasn’t happened to me for quite a long time, though it used to happen fairly frequently when I was shooting 4x5.  But it happened to me in Yosemite.  I just had to stop and make the photograph.  Well, actually I had to turn the car around and then stop.  But the second I got out, I felt the rush and the incredible focus that comes with it.  Ann wouldn’t even get out of the car.

The road from Washburn Point to Glacier Point is quite a ride.  It’s narrow and descends at a pretty brisk clip.  At one point you turn a corner and, about 150 feet away the trees open up and Half Dome stands there before you.  The road becomes even steeper and enters into a descending, banked hairpin turn.  The road seems to narrow.  The turn is so sharp and so banked you see nothing but the edge of the road as you approach it.  No guard rail,  beyond it nothing but air.  My eyes immediately locked down to the sharply turning double yellow line, decelerating the whole time, thinking that if I go too fast, we’re done for.

But in the back of my mind there was that glimpse of Half Dome.

While at Glacier Point I occasionally thought of that location.  Everything happened so quickly.  Was there a place to pull off?  A place to set up a tripod?  What was I thinking . . . that’s the type of turn you just try to survive, not stop and take pictures at. 

But the thought wouldn’t go away.

On the way back it was easier.  Going uphill is always easier.  Let off the gas and you slow down, you don’t keep gaining speed.  And there it was, a brown patch to the right, just as the hairpin turn started.  Enough to fit a car in.  A glance left and . . . air.  I glanced up and to the right to see if any cars were coming (Ok, I was saying, “Please don’t let there be an RV!”).  Nothing, I slowed down a bit more, crossed the center line a bit as we were making the turn to see if I could get a glimpse of . . .  well, anything but air.  And I saw it, a clump of rocks.  A place to put a tripod!  Maybe there's more, but at least one place.  And as I  left the hairpin I glanced in my rear view mirror and the light was spectacular!

“Ann, I’ve got to turn around and photograph there!”  “You’re nuts!” she replied.  I guess I am.

Two turn-arounds later I pull over in the brown patch.  I pull out my camera bag, grab my tripod and look over at Ann.  “No way.  You go on your own - and make sure that I can see you at all times!”  “OK!” I turn to look backwards - up to the left for the downhill traffic, down to the right for uphill traffic.  Nothing.  I quickly cross the road at the hairpin.

As I get to the other side of the road I see why there’s no guard rail.  While the steep bank of the road disguises it, there’s actually three terraces of rock - solid granite.   The first terrace is about 15 feet, it drops 2-3 feet for a 20 foot terrace, then another foot or so for a 10 foot terrace.  After that isn’t even too bad, a bit of a slope and then . . . well, I didn’t find out but the lack of tips of tree tops led me to believe that was the drop. 

As I stepped from the road to the rock, my mind was already thinking - I knew the lens, I knew the filter, I knew how I wanted the image to feel.  The question was where to put the tripod.  And I hadn’t forgotten Ann.  After a few steps - way too soon to set up my tripod - I turned around.  I could see her, she could see me - good!  A few more steps, down to the middle terrace.  Turn around - eye contact - I’m good!  Bottom terrace - eye contact again, but barely.  I wondered if she could even see my whole head.  I turned around to look at Half Dome.  Nope, trees in the shot, too close.  Go back to the second terrace - better clearance, better height, and I’m sure the right spot to get the composition I had in my mind.  Oh yeah, and the better for Ann to see me.

I turn around and carefully look.  Move a few feet back.  A bit to the right.  Then I set up my tripod, grab my camera, change to the 56mm lens, mount the camera on the tripod, set my camera bag down and compose.  Carefully compose.  Adjust here, adjust there.  Minor changes.  Look some more, refine the framing.  Zoom in on the edges of the image on the rear screen.  Look at the whole, focus on the details.  I take an image and look at it.  It’s a bit unbalanced.  Too much rock, not enough sky.  Left-right is good, up-down is the issue.  Make the adjustment, tweak it some more.  Look at the whole.  Scan the edges, check the corners.  Finally I’m satisfied.  Take a second image.  Examine the composition.  Yes, that is what I saw.

Ok, time to make the real image.  I grab my filter pouch from my photo vest and look inside.  The polarizer filter isn’t there.  WTF?  I suddenly remember, I left it on another lens.  So I bend down on my knee and pull out the big zoom lens.  Take the lens cap off, pull off the filter, put it in the pouch.  Then I put the lens back into the bag and stand up turning towards the camera.

“You know I couldn’t see you!” I hear from behind.

Oops.  I turn around,  “I had to get my filter!” I yelled.

“Yeah, well you took your time about it.  I thought you’d fallen off!”

“It was only a second!”  Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.

“No it wasn’t.”  As usual, Ann was right.

I go back to my image.  The light is changing and you never know when you’re going to lose it. 

Oh, my cable release was in the bag.  I start to bend over and . . .  well, I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.  I raise my hand in the air as I bend over.  Grab my cable release and quickly turn back towards the camera . . . .  Must have worked because . . . nothing.  That or Ann no longer cares if I fall off a cliff.

So I make the photograph.  One photograph, several copies of it.  You never know when a bird is flying by or a bug is on the lens.  But just one image.  No horizontals.  No alternative compositions.  None using any of the other 4 lenses I have in the bag at my feet.  I have what I saw and don’t need anything else.  I pack my bag and head back to the car.

I don’t know how to describe it other than this is what it had to be.  As you will see, I have other more dramatic images of Half Dome.  But this one is the purest.  This is the image that told me to make it.  And then walk away.  So I did.

As Ann periodically reminded me during the Yosemite trip and after, I’m very considerate of her concerns.  That is until I see an image, then it all goes out the window!

Well, I guess that’s better than off the cliff!