One of my biggest regrets of photography is that there is no way to adequately express temperature. Especially at sunrise, when almost all my photos are from after the sun has already lit the sky. There is no way for you to know the futile feeling of your heart pumping heat when the wind won’t stop blowing, there is no way for you to feel the ache in your feet or the fleeting comfort of your breath reflected against your scarf back to your face.
There is no way to understand the sense of relief in the utterly subtle and entirely welcome warmth of the sun clearing the horizon. Not unless you’ve experienced it yourself.
At the top of Half Dome, that feeling was magnified by the barren rock dropping off into the clear, vast expanse of the Yosemite wilderness. The dawn held an unbreakable wonder that thrummed in my heart as I jumped from rock to rock and switched from lens to lens. My spirit was as warm as its ever been.
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