【快意寒冬III】水墨世界--优胜美(上）（图） - 珍珠湾ART

Yosemite, the Magnificent Yin

Summer in San Francisco is cold. Yet the feeling for the need of a jacket nine o'clock in the morning was rather alienating. It started to drizzle as the heavy fog firmly clung to the ground as we loaded our luggage into the car. Deep down we knew it was going to be a normal day with bright sunshine mixed in with sea breeze. We just had to give the sun time to burn through the thick fog first. Fog is our natural air-conditioner; without it, we would be cooked regularly like the rest of California inland. Anyway, we bid a quick 'Good-bye' to the Bay and head to the east, to where the mountains tower and valleys sleep. Sure enough, just as we were getting over those small (small by comparison of the latter part of this expedition) coastal hills at the Dublin and Livermore area, what greeted us was, voila! another sunny day.

California's Central Valley has probably the world's top soil. It's fantastically soft, thick, rich, and of course fertile. Blessed with a wonderful climate almost ideal for growing anything, and with a magnificent irrigation system in place, it's a big wonder why some people in this world still starve daily. This valley produces excessive fruit of great variety, wheat, corn, rice, and sustains a huge livestock. Sure, they grow grapes and make wine here, too, though not as celebrated as in Napa and Sonoma Valleys up north. There is so much going on here that it's hard to identify the center of activity in this part of the world. Steak houses, dairy products, professional rodeo shows, life simply can't help itself but flourishing in such a luxurious cradle.

The feeling penetrates rather deep into the poor soul that grew up amidst starvation. Even the dust kicked up by the extra wide trucks seem to dance in high spirit. The great American transportation system guarantees that agricultural products reach consumers in top quality and perfect format. Yes, there is Silicon Valley and all its high tech dazzles, and yes, tourism in California is a huge industry, but agriculture maintains its position as the number one money maker for the Golden State. Californians have the reputation of being laid back; on the flip side of the coin, why not? They don't have to make an effort here to be productive and to lead the nation and possibly the world in a variety of fields.

A little further east, something in the air hit me and made me drunk. All six senses were aroused in a pleasant way. I seemed to feel some kind of lust but not in the sexual sense. The more to the east, the more luscious the air, the soil, the water, the trees and the mountains and the valleys all seem to become. Even if you are disoriented, spaced-out and day-dreaming from all the sitting in the car and baked in the sun, you become alert, rejuvenated, you wake up, rise up and look around. Something magic is definitely in the air.

After endless pine and redwood trees (yes, there are oak and cedar and other trees of ordinary heights), after winding around lakes and reservoirs, mountains and hills, the west gate of Yosemite National Park is squeezed in a narrow strip carved out of a giant forest that is larger than a number of countries of the world. The scent now has penetrated so deep that I had entered an alternate state of consciousness.

The park is really large, the size of Rhode Island as they advertise, with many peaks and valleys. Yet, everyone was here to see this 7 mile long and 1 mile wide valley. Yosemite Valley, that is.

It was not a good idea to check into a luxury hotel with or without a young child travelling with you. When you are so close to nature, it's utterly silly to separate yourself from her grandeur. And yet, Yosemite Valley seems to be old story as all the sights, spectacular as they are, are well-documented thus come as no big surprises to the eye or to the soul. Before we got into the heart of the valley there are a few vista points where one can see the giant domes or granite rocky peaks. All the peaks or domes have smooth curves, smoothened out by glaciers centuries ago. The famed Half Dome was not only smoothened but also half cut by the river of deep and heavy glaciers which took centuries to roll through and left this ageless wonder behind. So when you are in the valley walking, everywhere you look up, there is steep wall of giant rock of dark gray towering to the sky. It was such a tight area walled in by hard, tall and smooth mountains that one feels back into the womb and being reproduced again. Ah, there is the Merced River, in glorious green, which takes her sweet time to zigzag and zigzag through the valley floor which is remarkably flat and fertile as wild grass grow deeper than your average human height.

Plants big and small, wild and cute, with the rich variety in the hundreds, animals swift and serene in the forms of squirrels, foxes, coyotes and wolves, black bears, mountain lions and deer. In Yosemite deer trots with serenity and leisure, oblivious to those excited tourists and their damn cameras. Of course there are bats, hordes of them. Their seemingly aimless bounces really add mystery and sexuality from sunset deep into the night. Life is well-nurtured at this spot on our planet, even the night water becomes azure blue and moves in a swift pace. In Yosemite Valley, one feels closer to birth than death. Only those who got too excited plunge to their deep valley of death while speeding on narrow roads or falling off rocks. This could be a nice spot to die, too.

Am I remade yet?

Besides the giant domes of rock and nothing but rock, the first pleasant sight that meets the eye while you are still in the car is the Brideveil Fall, a limited flow of water makes a straight drop from the shoulder of one of the domes. The wind blows the weak stream left and right thus the waterfall is constantly blown up into mist like a silver veil that drifts in the air thus the name Brideveil. Of course thousands of tourists clog up the foot of the imaginary Bride, taking snapshots of themselves and the water from the heavens. Just across the valley and a little up into the heart of that tight womb is the Yosemite Fall which has a stronger flow and is broken up by a tier of huge rock into the upper and lower falls and both of them exhibit their charm in their unique ways. And all the way in the back of the valley there is the large Nevada Fall which eventually becomes the Merced River. Thousands of tourists get excited everyday.

The best view I got while walking in the valley did not come through my eyes as there are always so many people and all the visual sights seem so familiar just like the calendar we buy every year. When we walked up close to the Yosemite Fall, we took the side trail and left the buzzing crowd and into the woods and creeks. The best moment comes when you close your eyes in the middle of giant trees and gurgling water. Take a deep breath and unlock all the pores and open all the doors. Then you can feel the vibration of her vitality, so fresh, so flirtatious, so powerful and so drunkening. Ecstasy is no longer a mystery. Then you look up and around and suddenly you realize you are in the middle of the greatest Yin that nature could offer. Then you would understand why California is rich and fertile and so magnificently beautiful. Then you may say to yourself, maybe I am remade, and anew.

Yeah, Yosemite is the magnificent Yin, and her clitoris is half cut but still as vital as ever.

Suddenly I felt I understood why Americans are so obsessed with big things, maybe.

Two days being confined in the heart of her tight Virgin was more than enough for me. We got out of the valley early in the morning. Instead of heading back to the San Francisco Bay Area, we made a sharp left turn to the direction where Tuolumne Meadows and Tiago Pass are, i.e. towards the California and Nevada stateline. We were doing a serious climbing up, of course, as we started in the 2000 and 3000 foot range in elevation and shot up over 8000 feet in less than 40 minutes. Yet, all the trees, giant sequoias and magnificent Geoffrey pines, made everything seem so smooth, so lively and so easy. The scent of the trees and her magnificent Yin make one feel like floating, or flying, instead of driving or crawling.

But soon the trees find it difficult to grow on bare rocks, though a few of them are trying and making it through epic struggle. Every direction you turn, you see a huge rock that is a mountain topping 10,000 feet above the sea level. Bald tops with not even a trace of hair. Round and gray. Smooth yet wild. Some meager snow still refuses to melt at the end of July.

At Olmsted just off the glorious Tiago Road, we took a little walk along the trail that is all rock and from the belly of a giant smooth rock we saw the Half Dome from her back side (if we call the valley view as the front side) and high above. The view is surreal. Although I still could smell her vital scent, the virility of the towering peaks of Sierra Nevada has just balanced everything she radiates around. The universe again reaches some harmony. Of course, on our way back, we would have to crawl across her ample chest and thighs again and got embraced by the Central Valley and its fertility of thick thick softness.

If you haven't learned to pronounce the Indian words such as Tuolumne, Tiago and Ahwahnee, you should, for they sound really beautiful.

I once wrote against prostituting the grandeur of nature for human consumption. So I have to compliment Yosemite National Park for eliminating excessive driving by encouraging people to use shuttle buses and trolleys. The park is huge but one has to reach and enjoy all the wonders by hiking. Trails are well-kept and marked for the safety of the hikers. And those big chains of hotels are not allowed into the precious valley or on the park premises.

Really, not to end on a negative notion, next time if I have a chance to go to the high Sierras, I would prefer a less travelled spot, such as the King's Canyon 50 miles or so down south from Yosemite. It's a little appalling to behold the sight of people watching people while mother nature brings out her best out-fit, though it's understandable that people admire rock-climbers as hordes of them go up those huge walls of granite under the scorching sun. Nevertheless, I am a little tired of seeing big mobs of people getting off their tour buses; maybe I am forgetting I grew up in China, the biggest mob land of them all. This is California, I am still looking for my Indian chief who sits on a solitary rock enjoying his harmony with mother nature without bragging about his discovery of a world wonder.

July/August, 1997