This article was originally published in Dispatch.
You’re stuck in a snaking line of cars in 80-degree heat, tour buses idling behind minivans. The scent of pine still cuts through the fumes. The websites warned of hours-long queues, but miraculously your car’s tires roll past Yosemite’s entrance gate in less than 25 minutes.
“Very quick for a summer Saturday,” a ranger jokes as he hands you a map. “You should have seen it last weekend.”
After a half-hour descent into the valley, you can finally get out. High above, the granite cliffs are so tall they don’t fit in your iPhone’s viewfinder. Among the network of tall pines, you’ve never been so small.
That’s Yosemite for you.
