There are few places in this world that will truly render you breathless as does this wonderland in the heart of the Sierra Nevada. I was 16 years old when my parents first took us to Yosemite National Park. While I have visited Yosemite countless times since, I still vividly recall the feeling when first entering the Gates of the Valley. Overwhelming would be an understatement. An awakening perhaps. A reckoning - a spiritual pinnacle of sorts. With El Capitan presiding over the valley like an arisen king - gazing across the valley at his love, Bridalveil Fall; Half Dome well in the background as a proud witness; it was a soul searing moment that lives with me today. At the time I could not foresee how this experience would inspire me to a life-time of trying to express what I felt that day.

On October 1, 1890 a modest parcel of 761,266 acres in central Sierra Nevada was set aside by Congress, and Yosemite National Park was established. Contrary to what many people surprisingly seem to believe, Ansel Adams did not discover Yosemite. During a time of environmental ignorance the famous photographer contributed significantly to the preservation of Yosemite, and other wild lands. While Adams was not alone in this effort, his unprecedented photographic mastery of this great land presented images that astonished and captivated..and the world was his audience.

In 2004 Yosemite National Park attracted 3.2 million visitors. Quite spectacular when you consider there is only one road into the valley which loops around to lead you out as well! What is even more amazing is that a huge percentage of these visitors are between June and August. From camping to luxurious lodging at the world renown Ahwahnee Hotel, Yosemite is a bustle of busy-ness between late Spring and early Fall.

As a nature lover and one who is impassioned with the art of photography you may know from my other that my preference is to visit such places during the off-season. This provides me with the opportunity to not only experience nature in a more pristine setting, but also in it's most raw form. If you find camping invigorating - try it when the temperatures are well below freezing and snow is falling on your lean-to while you are grilling salmon after a long hike, and watching over your shoulder for fish-loving bears!

While I have experienced this many times, my trip to Yosemite in March of 2006 is without a doubt the most memorable. Not only because of the superb wintry scenery - every landscape photographer's dream - but dealing with the harshest winter conditions I have ever dealt with seriously challenged my comfort zone.

If you have ever driven the last 35 winding miles into Yosemite valley then you know it's a long drive even under normal conditions. Toss in a layer of ice on the road and near white-out snowfall - it all adds up to about a 3 hour, very stressful drive! Most normal people at this point would be reconsidering the idea of actually setting up a campsite. But then, most serious photographers are a bit on the eccentric side, so I happily welcomed finally sliding my Jeep into campsite #91.

As the blizzard like snowfall lessened to little more than a perpetual dump, I quickly set up camp, hoping the snowfall would end. Snow on the ground and in the trees is pretty; snow in the sky so thick you cannot see when you know you are surrounded by dreamy winter scenes is a photographer's nightmare!

By 4pm and three inches of snow already piled on my Jeep, it was rather evident conditions were not going to improve. Normally I would venture off to at least get some hiking in, even if it meant no photographs, but the visibility was so bad I was nervous about just walking off to the restroom and finding my way back! So the first evening would be spent relaxing in my chair, under a lean-to, feet up - grilling salmon, baked potato, sipping warmed merlot...reading by lantern light. How does one sleep in a tent in such cold conditions? If you do not invest in good winter gear - you don't! Otherwise, there is nothing like sleeping to the sound of snow pattering on a tent top.

At 5am I awoke to a most frightening sound; one I had never heard before. The furious roll of thunder-like noise would best be likened to the sound of a large aircraft crashing. A rather morbid description, but it was truly what I thought at that moment! As the crashing sound intensified I realized it was an avalanche of what must have ben massive sheets of ice. I knew I was far enough from the valley walls to not be in danger - however, there is something about being locked up in a Kelty sleeping bag and tent that leaves one feeling rather vulnerable near an avalanche! That magnificent sound would repeat many times those few days, and each time a profound reminder of nature's sovereign power.

I must admit, the transition from a warm sleeping bag to getting myself and 30 lbs. of camera gear on the trail to Nevada Falls at 6am was a very slow one this first morning. I don't care how much you work-out, there is no gym that prepares you for suddenly sucking in sub-freezing air while strategically (good word for tip-toeing) hiking on glass-smooth ice trails. Rule #1 with winter hiking: don't forget your crampons!

By the time I arrived at the bridge that gives an awesome view of Vernal Fall, barely a mile - I was exhausted! The stress on my body from fighting the slick icy trail (especially being top-heavy with a camera pack) nearly defeated me. Only a quarter of the distance I wanted go and my body was already giving out! I rarely ever quite a hike, and decided to sit - shoot some photographs of Vernal Fall, and ponder over stashing half my camera gear behind a rock to reduce the weight!

With refreshed determination I set off once again towards my destination - the top of Nevada Fall. While the trail became less icy it was clearly apparent that no one had been up the John Muir trail to the waterfall anytime recently as the powdery, pristine snow was smooth as cream. Not a footprint in sight. As the snow became deeper and those familiar sounds of avalanches crashed - now nearly overhead - I was beginning to understand why there were no footprints! By the time the soft snow was up to my knees I realized what else I should have on such a hike: snow shoes!

With my progress slowing to almost a crawling pace, and my legs sinking in the snow deeper, the thought suddenly occurred to me that I was quickly getting myself into potentially dangerous conditions. The trail had become nearly impossible to distinguish, and since I knew from previous hikes that a step off the side could be disastrous - and somewhere within that thought my legs sunk in the snow completely to my waist. Then of course the reminders echoing in my head; something about never hiking alone. To add to the drama of the moment the valley walls around me began reverberating with the thunder of an avalanche - somewhere up there! Within seconds I heard it slamming down on the trail where I had come up - about 100 feet behind me! With the light breeze showering me with shards of frosted residue from the falling ice, the trail I had come up on was obliterated, with about 30' feet of it rendered impassable.

As mentioned, I rarely ever quit a hike, and doing so is usually due to an injury - such as a twisted ankle. However, with being buried in the snow up to my waist and a fresh pile of ice from an avalanche daring me to continue - I wisely opted to crawl out of my snow silo and carefully slide down the mountain to the lower switch-back. Back down where I felt in control of my vertical situation again I looked up at the looming ice caked mountainside with a defeated shake of my head. It won, this time.

Back in camp it was difficult not to feel discouraged that my day had been wasted. By later afternoon I had taken perhaps a half dozen photographs at best, and I had to remind myself that it was about quality - not quantity. Besides, I had new stories to tell!

With only a few hours of daylight left it seemed as if someone had flipped a switch and the sky stopped snowing. Then, as quickly as the snowfall stopped, the sun peered out from a thinning veil of clouds. Jolted from my mopey mood I was invigorated and bounded out of the campground with renewed energy and a backpack full of camera gear! I set my inner compass to the center of the valley...Ahwahnee Meadow. I wanted to see the surrounding walls of towering granite white with fresh snow and ice. As I trudged through the snow I became aware of a coyote scavenging for food. It seems I was not the only one happy with the break in weather! As I tried to get closer to the animal he suddenly became aware of my presence. He fixed his gaze on me, and even moved a few steps closer. This was rather peculiar. I'm sure he was used to photographers wanting his photo, but he seemed unusually bold and continued to move towards me - slow, but steady. That's when I realized why he was so bold; off to my left, about 100 feet away, lay a female coyote - and it seems I had positioned myself between him and his girlfriend! As he hopped a small stream in my direction I snapped off a shot and began my retreat. Not wanting to be the only photographer in history to be mauled by a jealous coyote, I thought it best to leave him to his task of finding food for his furry female friend.

As I stood in the middle of the snow blanketed meadow I was rewarded with one of the most breathtaking scenes of my life in this great valley. While the light was quickly dissipating due to the clouds rushing in from the northeast, I found myself in one continuous rotation as my eyes scanned the snow dusted valley walls. I have photographed Half Dome countless times over the years, but now it looked as though someone had carefully draped the majestic mountain with white linen. Still accented by a patch of brilliant blue sky, the northwest wall appeared as though sugar had been sprinkled over the pine trees and craggy mountain side.

One of the most spectacular and fascinating scenes you will be rewarded with this time of year at Yosemite, and especially after a harsh snow storm, is seeing Bridalveil Fall and Yosemite Falls thundering down into white cones of ice! The waterfalls' surrounding granite walls - a picturesque mural of frosted white snow and layers of ice.

By 4pm the light was disappearing quickly and by the time I got back to camp the snowfall had resumed. By 8pm that evening the temperature had dropped to barely above a bone chilling 10 degrees, and with snow falling hard it was almost impossible to keep a fire going. While camping in Yosemite during even the harshest conditions is not exactly remote, since all the necessary services and provisions are relatively nearby year-round, it is still critical to keep warm and dry. It does not take long for hypothermia to set in, and once that happens it's unlikely one would have the keen sense to seek help from the handful of other campers in the park. On this particular night, for whatever reason, regardless of how many layers of clothes I put on, I was having a difficult time staying warm. After a few hours of constant shivering I began to consider that I should walk to the ranger station for some hot tea. That in itself probably sounds odd, but it was 2am and fortunately I was still coherent enough to recognize how wacky that idea was; early warning signs of hypothermia. So, brushing off my campers pride I gathered up my sleeping bags and blankets and got myself into the back of my Jeep - with the engine running long enough to get some heat going. Yes, heat had been available. What can I say, determination can sometimes be misplaced stupidity.

The early morning sun caused a warm glow inside my Jeep. Completely encased in snow I had to kick the door open to break the layer of ice that had formed, and was rewarded with a brilliant clear and vibrant blue sky. The cold air stung my skin like cactus needles, but I didn't care. Nothing was falling out of the sky! With the early morning sun barely over the horizon I took off. As a photographer I have never had much luck with making pleasing photographs of El Capitan, and I had determined that I was going to get 'the shot' of El Cap this trip. The light was at the ideal angle, the color still warm and golden. I wish the story could be that I spent hours in the frigid cold waiting for the perfect moment, but the fact is as I arrived in this spot I only had a few moments of this perfect light to get 'the shot'. When I saw this view of El Cap in the viewfinder I felt my emotions well up. It's when a photographer just knows they got it. The shot. The one shot that makes the pains of dealing with the harsh cold and discomforts worth the effort...and this shot of El Cap was it for me.

Film directors have a saying when they are satisfied that the movie is complete, and one I mutter to myself when I know I can go home a happy photographer: "It's a wrap!"