Water

My friend, Dan, and I just returned from a trip to a region of the Sierra that he visits often but is new to me. A network of Forest Service roads honeycomb this area, a land dotted with granite domes that borders the southern boundary of Yosemite National Park. From the very end of Sky Ranch Road, we hiked across Chiquito Pass and descended the trail to the South Fork of the Merced River. From there, we left the trail and walked several miles down the river, then scrambled 1,300 feet back up to the road leading to the car.

Too lazy to carry my SLR, I brought my point-and-shoot camera to document the trip. If spring beauty were music, the sights on this walk would be a symphony orchestra. The river was rollicking with snowmelt, and a variety of flowers, enough to fill a field guide, colored polished granite with a kaleidoscope of color. The photos I returned with captured the beauty of the walk, but with little artistry. Except for this one. I kept coming back to it.
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This shallow slip of water curled with a simple elegance. The crystal clear water seemed to polish the granite slab beneath. The rolls and swirls of the current, traced with soft sinuous lines of the surface reflections, are a brief sensuous pause in the river’s flow before the plunge just ahead. 

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