Up, up, up.

Hand over hand, one foot in front of the other.

I took a break to wipe my face, hoping to prevent the sunscreen I had just applied from going into my eyes. The sun was hot, but the strong breeze blowing from the north side made me feel less like a pastry baking in the oven. I had left the shady portion of the trail a mile ago, the cool protection of the woods now only a birds-eye-view from a distance.

This was the final stretch to the summit of Half Dome, commonly known as the cables. I had begun my exciting backpacking journey yesterday, traipsing jovially up rock steps and dirt trails. This morning, my daypack felt delightful lightweight on my back, but my feet and hands were giving slight protests to the work I was asking them to do. The cables at the very end of the Half Dome hike are perhaps the most famous part of the hike, allowing adventurers to ascend the final 400 feet up the steeply-angled rock. The website casually mentions that “since 1919, only a few people have fallen and died on the cables.” I wasn’t intimidated, but the full-body workout was a little tougher than I expected.

Up, up, up.

I pause again to take in the panoramic views of Yosemite Valley and the surrounding landscape. It is absolutely beautiful. It is absolutely wild.

Finally I take the last few steps up the 45-degree angled rock and scamper to the top. Half Dome’s summit is larger than I anticipated, with lots of places to explore and a new view from every side. I sit in happy silence for a few minutes, then find a boulder that affords a little protection from the sun. I lie down, I listen to the birds, and I enjoy the smell of rock. There is something perfectly surreal about this moment that I don’t want to let go of.

Eventually, my stomach convinces me it’s snack time, and I walk around a bit taking pictures. I like seeing how close I can get to the edge before my brain sends out danger, forcing my legs to inch backwards.

This was “another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward.”*

This is Yosemite in all its glory.

* John Muir