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The Yosemite: John Muir's quest to preserve the wilderness
‘All these colours, from the blue sky to the yellow valley smoothly blending as they do in a rainbow, making a wall of light ineffably fine.’
Having spent significant time obsessively exploring and learning about the Sierra, John Muir’s passion for and belief in preserving the wilderness steadily grew. He believed that excessive grazing and logging would result in its eventual destruction, and so campaigned to designate the area as a protected national park.
In 1890, the US Congress passed the National Park Bill, and the Yosemite and Sequoia national parks were established. At the time of writing, Muir’s views on conservation of the wilderness were totally radical; today, environmental activists are too often brushed aside in favour of something faster, easier, and cheaper.
Muir not only educates us in the particulars of the botanicals of this spectacular landscape, but also inadvertently traps us in his web of enthusiasm for the beauty and significance of Mother Nature. The Yosemite gives us the tools to construct a detailed mental map of the Sierra, and leaves us with the resolution to be more compassionate and environmentally mindful.
First published in 1912, and with a new introduction from Muir authority Terry Gifford, the message in The Yosemite is perhaps more pertinent now than it ever was. There is a lot to thank Muir for, not least opening our eyes to the earth beneath our feet.
58 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1912
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About the author
John Muir
636 books1,454 followersJohn Muir was far more than a naturalist; he was a secular prophet who translated the rugged language of the wilderness into a spiritual calling that saved the American soul from total surrender to materialism. Born in 1838 in the coastal town of Dunbar, Scotland, Muir’s childhood was a blend of seaside wanderings and a brutal religious upbringing. His father, Daniel Muir, was a man of uncompromising faith who forced John to memorize the New Testament and most of the Old Testament by age eleven. When the family immigrated to the frontier of Wisconsin in 1849, this iron-fisted discipline continued on their farm. However, for the young Muir, the "Book of Nature" began to rival the Bible. He saw the divine not just in scripture, but in the black locust trees and the sun-drenched meadows of the midwest.
The pivotal moment of Muir’s life occurred in 1867 while working at a wagon wheel factory in Indianapolis. A tool slipped, piercing his cornea and leaving him temporarily blind in both eyes. Confined to a darkened room for six weeks, Muir faced the terrifying prospect of a life without light. When his sight miraculously returned, he emerged with a clarity of purpose that would change the course of American history. He famously wrote, "This affliction has driven me to the sweet fields. God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons." He immediately set out on a 1,000-mile walk to the Gulf of Mexico, beginning a lifelong odyssey of exploration.
Muir eventually found his "true home" in California’s Sierra Nevada. To Muir, the mountains were not mere piles of rock, but "the range of light." He spent years as a shepherd and guide in Yosemite, living a life of extreme simplicity—often traveling with nothing but a tin cup, a crust of bread, and a volume of Emerson’s essays. His scientific contributions were equally profound; he defied the leading geologists of the day by proving that the Yosemite Valley was carved by ancient glaciers. While the state geologist, Josiah Whitney, dismissed him as a mere "shepherd," the world’s leading glaciologists eventually recognized Muir’s genius.
His transition from explorer to activist was born of necessity. Seeing the "hoofed locusts"—domestic sheep—devouring the high mountain meadows, Muir took up his pen. His landmark articles in The Century Magazine and his 1903 camping trip with President Theodore Roosevelt became the catalysts for the modern conservation movement. Under the stars at Glacier Point, Muir convinced the President that the wilderness required federal protection. This meeting laid the groundwork for the expansion of the National Park system and the eventual return of Yosemite Valley to federal control.
As the co-founder and first president of the Sierra Club, Muir spent his final years in a fierce philosophical battle with Gifford Pinchot. While Pinchot argued for "conservation" (the sustainable use of resources), Muir championed "preservation" (the protection of nature for its own sake). Though he lost the battle to save the Hetch Hetchy Valley from being dammed, the heartbreak of that loss galvanized the American public, ensuring that future "cathedrals of nature" would remain inviolate. John Muir died in 1914, but his voice remains ubiquitous, reminding us that "into the woods we go, to lose our minds and find our souls."
The pivotal moment of Muir’s life occurred in 1867 while working at a wagon wheel factory in Indianapolis. A tool slipped, piercing his cornea and leaving him temporarily blind in both eyes. Confined to a darkened room for six weeks, Muir faced the terrifying prospect of a life without light. When his sight miraculously returned, he emerged with a clarity of purpose that would change the course of American history. He famously wrote, "This affliction has driven me to the sweet fields. God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons." He immediately set out on a 1,000-mile walk to the Gulf of Mexico, beginning a lifelong odyssey of exploration.
Muir eventually found his "true home" in California’s Sierra Nevada. To Muir, the mountains were not mere piles of rock, but "the range of light." He spent years as a shepherd and guide in Yosemite, living a life of extreme simplicity—often traveling with nothing but a tin cup, a crust of bread, and a volume of Emerson’s essays. His scientific contributions were equally profound; he defied the leading geologists of the day by proving that the Yosemite Valley was carved by ancient glaciers. While the state geologist, Josiah Whitney, dismissed him as a mere "shepherd," the world’s leading glaciologists eventually recognized Muir’s genius.
His transition from explorer to activist was born of necessity. Seeing the "hoofed locusts"—domestic sheep—devouring the high mountain meadows, Muir took up his pen. His landmark articles in The Century Magazine and his 1903 camping trip with President Theodore Roosevelt became the catalysts for the modern conservation movement. Under the stars at Glacier Point, Muir convinced the President that the wilderness required federal protection. This meeting laid the groundwork for the expansion of the National Park system and the eventual return of Yosemite Valley to federal control.
As the co-founder and first president of the Sierra Club, Muir spent his final years in a fierce philosophical battle with Gifford Pinchot. While Pinchot argued for "conservation" (the sustainable use of resources), Muir championed "preservation" (the protection of nature for its own sake). Though he lost the battle to save the Hetch Hetchy Valley from being dammed, the heartbreak of that loss galvanized the American public, ensuring that future "cathedrals of nature" would remain inviolate. John Muir died in 1914, but his voice remains ubiquitous, reminding us that "into the woods we go, to lose our minds and find our souls."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 175 reviews
August 28, 2014
I think John Muir has got to be one of my top 5 favorite humans of all time. The guy was seriously one of a kind. This fact became evident within the first few pages of "The Yosemite," which I decided to read in advance of my first trip to Yosemite National Park this weekend. John Muir is basically the reason that the park exists. He lived in the valley for many years, on his own, just kind of wandering around and exploring, and he loved it so much that he convinced everyone that it needed to be protected. So we should first of all send a big thank-you in his direction.
The main reason reading his description of Yosemite is a delight is not his encyclopedic knowledge of every plant, animal, and geological feature in the area - as fun as it is to read ten continuous pages comparing the shapes of the leaves of every native tree species - but rather the parts of the book that talk about his adventures in the valley. All he did for TEN YEARS was wander around and look at stuff. Just looking at things! For ten years! But in the course of all that looking, he got up to some pretty insane hijinks which lead me to believe that this man had a death wish.
For example, he climbed up to the top of Yosemite Falls (nearly 2500 feet above the floor of the valley) and wanted to get a better idea of the exact shape that the water makes when it goes over the edge, so he climbed out on a ledge three inches wide and just hung out there for a while observing. At another point he climbed up to the top of a mountain and an avalanche started, so he literally rode the avalanche down to the bottom of the mountain and couldn't shut up about how awesome it was (though he wouldn't recommend it to average folks like you and me). This may be my favorite example though:
What?! I was in a (small) earthquake a couple years ago, and I can tell you that was not my reaction. But it just goes to show how exuberant and reverent he was about nature. The world needs people like him to remind us that certain places are special beyond measure and that we should take the time to appreciate them.
Wow, this is the longest review I've written in maybe ever. I just love John Muir so much and I wish I could go back in time and give him a high five. (But not go on a hike with him, because I'd probably die.)
The main reason reading his description of Yosemite is a delight is not his encyclopedic knowledge of every plant, animal, and geological feature in the area - as fun as it is to read ten continuous pages comparing the shapes of the leaves of every native tree species - but rather the parts of the book that talk about his adventures in the valley. All he did for TEN YEARS was wander around and look at stuff. Just looking at things! For ten years! But in the course of all that looking, he got up to some pretty insane hijinks which lead me to believe that this man had a death wish.
For example, he climbed up to the top of Yosemite Falls (nearly 2500 feet above the floor of the valley) and wanted to get a better idea of the exact shape that the water makes when it goes over the edge, so he climbed out on a ledge three inches wide and just hung out there for a while observing. At another point he climbed up to the top of a mountain and an avalanche started, so he literally rode the avalanche down to the bottom of the mountain and couldn't shut up about how awesome it was (though he wouldn't recommend it to average folks like you and me). This may be my favorite example though:
I was awakened by a tremendous earthquake, and though I had never before enjoyed a storm of this sort, the strange thrilling motion could not be mistaken, and I ran out of my cabin, both glad and frightened, shouting, "A noble earthquake! A noble earthquake!" feeling sure I was going to learn something.
What?! I was in a (small) earthquake a couple years ago, and I can tell you that was not my reaction. But it just goes to show how exuberant and reverent he was about nature. The world needs people like him to remind us that certain places are special beyond measure and that we should take the time to appreciate them.
Wow, this is the longest review I've written in maybe ever. I just love John Muir so much and I wish I could go back in time and give him a high five. (But not go on a hike with him, because I'd probably die.)
May 18, 2024
An extremely detailed description of all the sights around Yosemite. It was much more of a nature/scientific journal than a diary or memoir. I would have enjoyed more personal stories, but I think he liked the attention off of himself and more on the location he was currently visiting.
May 9, 2014
Reading “The Yosemite” was my first experience reading John Muir’s prose. His descriptions are amazing. I read most of the book on a backpacking trip in Yosemite, and I cherish this opportunity to read Muir’s descriptions of the very place I was visiting. Muir’s words are oft quoted, and now I understand why. His writing is poetic and moving, and so much of what he says speaks to soul.
John Muir is skilled at painting with words. Reading about a waterfall, you can see how the water descends and hear the thundering sound. His descriptions of the trees are better than any field guide. His adventure stories are exciting. His love for his subject comes through with such enthusiasm, you can’t help but be captivated by his narration of nature’s beauty.
This edition of the book has strange formatting, with huge margins including over two inches of blank space at the bottom of the pages. At first I was annoyed by this, especially as this extra paper amounts to extra weight that I packed in on my hiking trip. But once I was enthralled in the words, I realized I should use that space to note the most special passages and perhaps write my own observations of the landmarks and forests he explains.
John Muir is skilled at painting with words. Reading about a waterfall, you can see how the water descends and hear the thundering sound. His descriptions of the trees are better than any field guide. His adventure stories are exciting. His love for his subject comes through with such enthusiasm, you can’t help but be captivated by his narration of nature’s beauty.
This edition of the book has strange formatting, with huge margins including over two inches of blank space at the bottom of the pages. At first I was annoyed by this, especially as this extra paper amounts to extra weight that I packed in on my hiking trip. But once I was enthralled in the words, I realized I should use that space to note the most special passages and perhaps write my own observations of the landmarks and forests he explains.
April 21, 2026
4 Stars for The Yosemite (audiobook) by John Muir read by Nick McArdle.
Apparently this was originally written as a guide book for Yosemite and ultimately it helped the area to become a national park.
Apparently this was originally written as a guide book for Yosemite and ultimately it helped the area to become a national park.
July 9, 2008
I just returned from Yosemite, a gift to the world from the venerable John Muir, who managed to have it preserved for posterity (although he failed in his attempt to save a neighboring valley, the Hetch Hetchy, now submerged beneath a reservoir). The Yosemite allowed me to better understand some of the things I saw on the trip and to "see" many features of the park I missed.
Of all the characters of recent modern history, Muir might well have been the most interesting to meet--although exhausting to converse with, as you would most likely have to do it while scaling peaks, wading rivers, and living on nuts, berries, and clear mountain air. I forgive him the superlatives. I forgive him everything. It's wonderful that such a man once lived and captured in words some of his childlike exuberance and reverence for the natural world.
Of all the characters of recent modern history, Muir might well have been the most interesting to meet--although exhausting to converse with, as you would most likely have to do it while scaling peaks, wading rivers, and living on nuts, berries, and clear mountain air. I forgive him the superlatives. I forgive him everything. It's wonderful that such a man once lived and captured in words some of his childlike exuberance and reverence for the natural world.
June 28, 2023
I’d recommend this book to anyone who recently moved to Yosemite and started a cartographic technician job working for the park
January 9, 2021
Its been since my youth that I read john Muir, listened to the audio while working my garden and loved memory lane. I grew up at Tahoe and he discusses the sugar pines,
since I was little I knew where to find them around the Lake, the book was very nostalgic for me. I was surprised how florific his writing was, enjoyed my travels with him.
since I was little I knew where to find them around the Lake, the book was very nostalgic for me. I was surprised how florific his writing was, enjoyed my travels with him.
December 7, 2018
I didn't enjoy this book as much as the other John Muir books I've read recently, which is, to say, it was only great and not incredible. The Yosemite reads more like a guide to the national park itself rather than Muir's own thoughts and while there are tales of his wanderings in there, as there are in his other books, in The Yosemite they're few and far between, interspersed with a lot (seriously, a LOT) of detail on the flora of the park, the geology, the geography and the trees.
Oh my god the trees. You could not ask for more detail on the trees of Yosemite, I fully expect there are people who have gone and spent weeks in among the trees of Yosemite who know less about the trees there than a reader of this book. John Muir seriously loves his trees and, to be fair, he's in the right place for it.
I jest a bit because I've already said much of what I have to say about the man himself and very little of a personal nature was revealed in this book, it's still very much a worthwhile read and fascinating in its own way. I was also enraged by the final chapter, a denouncement of the plan to turn Hetch Hetchy, the second Yosemite, into a reservoir, a scheme Muir fought with everything he had, though sadly unsuccessfully. Turning his hand at the end of the book to this worthy cause, I was reminded of just how good Muir is at letting you see through his eyes in just a few economical sentences. His adventurous nature, enviable knowledge and incredible level of experience sometimes blinds you to the fact he's also a very accomplished writer.
Oh my god the trees. You could not ask for more detail on the trees of Yosemite, I fully expect there are people who have gone and spent weeks in among the trees of Yosemite who know less about the trees there than a reader of this book. John Muir seriously loves his trees and, to be fair, he's in the right place for it.
I jest a bit because I've already said much of what I have to say about the man himself and very little of a personal nature was revealed in this book, it's still very much a worthwhile read and fascinating in its own way. I was also enraged by the final chapter, a denouncement of the plan to turn Hetch Hetchy, the second Yosemite, into a reservoir, a scheme Muir fought with everything he had, though sadly unsuccessfully. Turning his hand at the end of the book to this worthy cause, I was reminded of just how good Muir is at letting you see through his eyes in just a few economical sentences. His adventurous nature, enviable knowledge and incredible level of experience sometimes blinds you to the fact he's also a very accomplished writer.
February 1, 2021
In Yosemite, Muir does for the Yosemite Valley what he did for the Serrias in The Mountains of California. This is an excellent rendition of the flora, fauna, and geology of the Yosemite Valley region. Procured at Yosemite National Park, the work helped me enjoy the majestic views.
January 17, 2026
3.5 stars. do not listen to the audio book LOL it put me to sleep more times than i can count. i liked hearing about muir's adventures, 'behold a noble earthquake', and riding an avalanche! but i got lost in the details of which waterfall is which and which valley is which. i feel like this might have been more thoroughly enjoyed as a present tourist in yosemite though! his descriptions of trees and birds i enjoyed, and was a bit confused on his narrative of the indigenous people of the valley. he describes them and their life in the valley, as well as the way the settlers forcibily removed them from the valley. and through those descriptions, i was fighting to understand whether muir even had an opinion of the situation.
August 19, 2021
Beautifully lyrical prose written by John Muir describing the wonders of Yosemite National Park. He often uses musical terms to illustrate sounds of waterfalls and birds and uses a thesaurus’ worth of descriptors. What a world he saw! We have him to thank for Yosemite and other national parks preserved for the public good.
August 6, 2022
Very very dry. Entire chapters detailing each type of tree found in the valley. Then similar chapters to every flower. Then bird. Etc
The best chapters are about the geological history of the valley, the discovery of it, and Muirs adventures just wandering around it.
The best chapters are about the geological history of the valley, the discovery of it, and Muirs adventures just wandering around it.
April 28, 2025
Soooo dry and I personally feel I would've gotten more from it if I had been to Yosemite. I'm sure others would love it, but Muir's style is not for me.
July 18, 2025
Nature writing at its finest. John Muir tells of a Yosemite before tour buses, paved roads, and thousands of people. He describes the waterfalls, geologic formations, wildlife, trees and flowers of the Yosemite region from his many years exploring and living among its towering sequoias and giant granite walls. The writing was beautiful and his descriptions useful, but I wanted more of his personal experiences and adventures.
December 12, 2015
John Muir (one of the pioneers of American conservation) was a devout Christian man. Follow this link: http://christianstandard.com/2006/09/.... Unfortunately, many modern environmentalists sweep his Christian faith under the carpet. They want us to see him as just an environmentalist and ignore the Christian faith that motivated him. As a man saturated in the Scriptures from his early youth in Scotland, he exults in the majesty, beauty, and power of the creation while often giving glory to God. What a stark contrast to the pantheistic or naturalistic drivel we get today. When Muir really gets in the zone, he reminds me of King David writing about the glory of creation (like Psalm 104). If you like to immerse yourself in the great outdoors or, if you can't be there, read about it in a way that ushers you into a spirit of praise for God's mighty work of creation, then reading John Muir's "The Yosemite" is a good place to start.
April 19, 2021
The Yosemite by John Muir (Sierra Club Books 1988) (orig.pub.1914) (979.4) (3521).
John Muir was one of the great explorers of the American West. He held a particular passion for a pair of valleys in California: The Yosemite Valley and the Hetch Hetchy Valley.
The Yosemite was Muir's attempt to pay such homage to the landforms, flora, and fauna of Yosemite that the government would be forced to protect and preserve the Yosemite Valley. Although the property already held national park status, it was not yet settled law as to whether congress could authorize development on property within the park boundaries. Indeed, as beautiful as Yosemite is, John Muir's writings about the place make it seem like a paradise on earth. Muir hoped that readers would be so impressed with his descriptions of Yosemite that they would actively join the quest to permanently extend federal protection over the valley before developers or politicians destroyed this Eden-esque tableau.
There is a second valley within twenty miles of Yosemite for which Muir also wished to insure protection. At the time Muir's book was written, this second property, the Hetch Hetchy Valley, was already targeted by the City of San Francisco for development. San Francisco is a hundred-sixty miles distant from Hetch Hetchy; the city coveted the fresh water discharged from the Hetch Hetchy Valley by the Tuolumne River.
Muir essentially succeeded. The Yosemite Valley has become one of America's best-loved National Parks; Congress insured that the valley's beauty will be preserved for the pleasure and enjoyment of future generations.
Though he triumphed at Yosemite, Muir failed to rally protection for the Hetch Hetchy Valley. Muir died in 1914; in 1919, construction commenced on the 430 foot high O'Shaughnessy Dam at the foot of the Hetch Hetchy Valley. The dam was completed in 1923 and impounded the Tuolumne River. The floor of the Hetch Hetchy Vally, which Muir so wished to protect, has now disappeared under the dark waters of the new Hetch Hetchy Reservoir.
My rating: 7/10, finished 4/13/21. I purchased a used PB copy in good condition from McKay's Books for $0.75 on 1/14/21.
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February 1, 2023
I’ll admit, this was a bit of a slow read, but only because there’s no rush in appreciating Nature. I often found myself stopping to look up pictures of waterfalls or trees to put visuals to Muir’s beautiful descriptions. I also found it entertaining and educational. Muir himself was wildly adventurous and his antics around the park are amusing. He taught me about the history of the Valley, about Sequoia groves, and (in part due to my own pause for research) more about glaciers than I ever knew I wanted to know! A beautifully written, must read for Nature lovers or anyone planning to visit The Yosemite.
June 22, 2023
A firsthand account of the awe-inspiring Yosemite, replete with poetic descriptions of the area's natural beauty. Muir's manner of describing the various features of the land fill your mind with vivid mental pictures while also filling your soul with an earnest desire to see it all for yourself. At times, the book is slow going, but in the way he writes you can ascertain Muir's heartfelt love for this region, as well as his desire to see it protected in perpetuity. Upon reading, you'll find yourself (as I did) wanting to look up the features of Yosemite as Muir describes them. In sum: Read the book, but then visit for yourself its subject. The former will help to motivate you in the latter.
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December 28, 2025Reading this text, it's no surprise that Muir became the leading spirit of the environmental preservation movement. His idiosyncratic descriptions of the wonders of Yosemite bespeak a man consumed in totality by awe of nature. You certainly get the impression from this book that he was willing to die to appease his curiosity. I am sure I would have gotten more out of this book had I used it as a walking companion to a trip to the national park itself, but Muir's descriptions are so evocative that I feel it stands on its own. Besides, nothing is stopping me from revisiting it again be it I get the chance to visit!
September 17, 2023
Decadently descriptive, it is hard not to be transported to Yosemite Valley when reading this. Muir’s passion for Yosemite and its surrounds comes across with such vigour and joy that you can’t help but smile along with his stories (particularly on his nonchalant ride on an avalanche). The cast of characters that call Yosemite home: the trees, mountains, streams and animals are all beautifully personified in Muir’s writing to the point that it is hard not to picture them as his friends in his temple. An inspiring and historic read with a critical message on conservation that still rings true today.
June 11, 2018
3.5 stars, I liked it well enough, especially the info on all of the different types of trees. It is definitely a place I would like to visit, sounds like it would be a lovely place to hike! This was an audio book , read by numerous people. Some were better than others, 1 in particular was horrid. It is a memoir by the author of his time and observations while he stayed in Yosemite. Very lovingly written.
February 29, 2020
After seeing pics of Yosemite as a teen, I always wanted to visit, and don't know why my career AF dad never took us there, when we visited the parks in the Pacific NW, Yellowstone, Rocky Mountain, and Glacier National Park, several times. The info and descriptions of Yosemite in this book are Encyclopedic in scope, but sadly, that's also how the book reads, like an encyclopedia. it was just too, too, much, and not engaging so I skimmed much of this book.
October 20, 2023
John Muir is known for his dislike of the word and concept of “hiking.” He views hiking as getting from point A to point B without spending much time observing. He prefers the concept of “sauntering.” This book (which uses the word “saunter” 16 times while completely omitting the word “hike”) documents that he is an excellent observer. His descriptions of Yosemite’s features are detailed, poetic, and scientifically understandable. It might seem unfortunate that Muir does not document his observations with photographs; but, in some ways, his words convey more passion and beauty than the photographs of Ansel Adams.
In any case, I confess that in my backpacking experiences on the John Muir Trail, I have probably been more of a hiker than a saunterer.
Most of this 90-page book deals with Muir’s perceptions of Yosemite’s unique features, and he does not write very much about himself. But he does describe two risky undertakings that help the reader understand his love of adventure. In 1875, he became the second human to ascend to the top of Half Dome; and, in an unspecified year, he rode an avalanche. Concerning the latter, he seemed to bemoan the fact that he had “enjoyed only one avalanche ride,” but one ride seems more than most of us will ever want to experience.
It seems ironic that the founder of the Sierra Club discusses the non¬man-made climate change that brought about the end of the Glacier Period, while the Sierra Club currently obsesses over the potential dangers of man-made climate change!
In the final chapter of this book originally published in 1912, Muir makes a strong, passionate argument that the Hetch Hetchy valley should be preserved, and the water-starved San Francisco Bay area should refrain from damming the Tuolumne River. Muir’s arguments went unheeded, and the law authorizing the O’Shaughnessy Dam passed Congress on December 7, 1913. In 1923 the dam was completed on the Tuolumne River, flooding the entire valley under the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, which then began to deliver water to the Bay area.
In any case, I confess that in my backpacking experiences on the John Muir Trail, I have probably been more of a hiker than a saunterer.
Most of this 90-page book deals with Muir’s perceptions of Yosemite’s unique features, and he does not write very much about himself. But he does describe two risky undertakings that help the reader understand his love of adventure. In 1875, he became the second human to ascend to the top of Half Dome; and, in an unspecified year, he rode an avalanche. Concerning the latter, he seemed to bemoan the fact that he had “enjoyed only one avalanche ride,” but one ride seems more than most of us will ever want to experience.
It seems ironic that the founder of the Sierra Club discusses the non¬man-made climate change that brought about the end of the Glacier Period, while the Sierra Club currently obsesses over the potential dangers of man-made climate change!
In the final chapter of this book originally published in 1912, Muir makes a strong, passionate argument that the Hetch Hetchy valley should be preserved, and the water-starved San Francisco Bay area should refrain from damming the Tuolumne River. Muir’s arguments went unheeded, and the law authorizing the O’Shaughnessy Dam passed Congress on December 7, 1913. In 1923 the dam was completed on the Tuolumne River, flooding the entire valley under the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, which then began to deliver water to the Bay area.
November 29, 2018
John Muir is the absolute man. I wish more people would love the environment like he did.
I listened to this book on audio from the library. It is a beautiful ode to the nature of Yosemite that brought many smiles to my face and also put me to sleep sometimes, in a pleasant way.
I listened to this book on audio from the library. It is a beautiful ode to the nature of Yosemite that brought many smiles to my face and also put me to sleep sometimes, in a pleasant way.
February 28, 2021
Only John Muir can make such a unique place come alive and sing from the page. Yosemite is a special place to me - I grew up in Fresno and over the years spent plenty of time tromping through its waterfalls, woods, and granite cliffs. Reading John Muir is like reliving my first Yosemite experiences - the awe and splendor to the senses. Of particular interest were Muir's firsthand encounters with Major Savage and the Native Americans in Yosemite and the surrounding region, and the overall battle to preserve Yosemite as a National Park.
February 4, 2018
Muir's classic lovingly details Yosemite, conducting readers on his favorite paths through the valley and introducing us to his friends, the trees.
March 31, 2019
Beautiful nature writing.
July 29, 2025
Can’t wait to see everything Muir loved in two days!!!
October 30, 2021
“Between every two pine trees there is a door leading to a new way of life.”
“The most famous and accessible of these cañon valleys, and also the one that presents their most striking and sublime features on the grandest scale, is the Yosemite Valley, comprehensively seen, looks like an immense hall or temple lighted from above. But no temple made with hands can compare with Yosemite. Every rock in its walls seems to glow with life.”
There is a reckoning in all circles about the racism that pervades so much of our history, and it is right, and I support it a thousandfold, to evaluate and ameliorate the damage it has done. I am just a reader and earth ecstatic, and I don’t know the right way to deal with Muir as an author, as there is obvious racism here; but like with misogyny in so called literary classics, it was in the air and the in the water and in the forests. The founders of our country stole this land from indigenous peoples, it is a fact. They committed genocide and atrocities; it is a fact. Where we go from here as descendants and new immigrants (my family) is the way to healing and I have no authority to even speak of it but I support it. I will say all that, and still say, Muir’s words here affected me. They speak of the land in a way that I feel deep into my bones. Forgive us all, and forgive the audacity of any of us to think we know, of the good we do, and the bad, what weight comes done on each side of scale. If I quote Muir and others are hurt by it, I can stop, but I hope that the leading lights of this reckoning find us the middle way…
Between some sublime insights into the light and color and glow of the landscape, this was more a travelogue of where to go and a naturalist's guide to the flora, but the feel of the landscape before crowds is present and feels like a dream. To be in the forest during an earthquake and not be afraid, to be in the moment, feeling and watching the effects just stunned me with its almost surreal quality. It is something I don't wish to experience in my life, so reading it makes it come alive and that is his gift. Most of us are not going to live in the mountains with a piece of bread, so we can experience it as he did in long ago times.
At my feet lay the Great Central Valley of California, level and flowery, like a lake of pure sunshine, forty or fifty miles wide, five hundred miles long, one rich furred garden of yellow Compositæ. And from the eastern boundary of this vast golden flower-bed rose the mighty Sierra, miles in height, and so gloriously colored and so radiant, it seemed not clothed with light, but wholly composed of it, like the wall of some celestial city.
And after ten years of wandering and wondering in the heart of it, rejoicing in its glorious floods of light, the white beams of the morning streaming through the passes, the noonday radiance on the crystal rocks, the flush of the alpenglow, and the irised spray of countless waterfalls, it still seems above all others the Range of Light.
The majestic Sequoia is here, too, the king of conifers, the noblest of all the noble race. These colossal trees are as wonderful in fineness of beauty and proportion as in stature—an assemblage of conifers surpassing all that have ever yet been discovered in the forests of the world. Here indeed is the tree-lover’s paradise; the woods, dry and wholesome, letting in the light in shimmering masses of half sunshine, half shade; the night air as well as the day air indescribably spicy and exhilarating; plushy fir-boughs for campers’ beds, and cascades to sing us to sleep.
From the margin of these glorious forests the first general view of the Valley used to be gained—a revelation in landscape affairs that enriches one’s life forever.
Nor can we here consider the formation of these mountain landscapes—how the crystal rocks were brought to light by glaciers made up of crystal snow, making beauty whose influence is so mysterious on every one who sees it.
All this is invisible from the bottom of the Valley, like a thousand other interesting things. One must labor for beauty as for bread, here as elsewhere.
The Bridal Veil and Vernal Falls are famous for their rainbows; and special visits to them are often made when the sun shines into the spray at the most favorable angle. But amid the spray and foam and fine-ground mist ever rising from the various falls and cataracts there is an affluence and variety of iris bows scarcely known to visitors who stay only a day or two. Both day and night, winter and summer, this divine light may be seen wherever water is falling, dancing, singing; telling the heart-peace of Nature amid the wildest displays of her power.
When the first heavy storms stopped work on the high mountains, I made haste down to my Yosemite den, not to “hole up” and sleep the white months away; I was out every day, and often all night, sleeping but little, studying the so-called wonders and common things ever on show, wading, climbing, sauntering among the blessed storms and calms, rejoicing in almost everything alike that I could see or hear: the glorious brightness of frosty mornings; the sunbeams pouring over the white domes and crags into the groves and waterfalls, kindling marvelous iris fires in the hoarfrost and spray; the great forests and mountains in their deep noon sleep; the good-night alpenglow; the stars; the solemn gazing moon, drawing the huge domes and headlands one by one glowing white out of the shadows hushed and breathless like an audience in awful enthusiasm, while the meadows at their feet sparkle with frost-stars like the sky; the sublime darkness of storm-nights, when all the lights are out; the clouds in whose depths the frail snow-flowers grow; the behavior and many voices of the different kinds of storms, trees, birds, waterfalls, and snow-avalanches in the ever-changing weather.
SNOW BANNERS BUT it is on the mountain tops, when they are laden with loose, dry snow and swept by a gale from the north, that the most magnificent storm scenery is displayed. The peaks along the axis of the Range are then decorated with resplendent banners, some of them more than a mile long, shining, streaming, waving with solemn exuberant enthusiasm as if celebrating some surpassingly glorious event. The snow of which these banners are made falls on the high Sierra in most extravagant abundance, sometimes to a depth of fifteen or twenty feet, coming from the fertile clouds not in large tangled flakes such as one oftentimes sees in Yosemite, seldom even in complete crystals, for many of the starry blossoms fall before they are ripe, while most of those that attain perfect development as six-petaled flowers are more or less broken by glinting and chafing against one another on the way down to their work. This dry frosty snow is prepared for the grand banner-waving celebrations by the action of the wind.
Only the owls seemed to be undisturbed. Before the rumbling echoes had died away a hollow-voiced owl began to hoot in philosophical tranquillity from near the edge of the new talus as if nothing extraordinary had occurred, although, perhaps, he was curious to know what all the noise was about.
It was long before the Valley found perfect rest. The rocks trembled more or less every day for over two months, and I kept a bucket of water on my table to learn what I could of the movements. The blunt thunder in the depths of the mountains was usually followed by sudden jarring, horizontal thrusts from the northward, often succeeded by twisting, up jolting movements.
If for a moment you are inclined to regard these taluses as mere draggled, chaotic dumps, climb to the top of one of them, and run down without any haggling, puttering hesitation, boldly jumping from boulder to boulder with even speed. You will then find your feet playing a tune, and quickly discover the music and poetry of these magnificent rock piles—a fine lesson; and all Nature’s wildness tells the same story—the shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes, geysers, roaring, thundering waves and floods, the silent uprush of sap in plants, storms of every sort—each and all are the orderly beauty-making love-beats of Nature’s heart.
I have often feasted on the beauty of these noble trees when they were towering in all their winter grandeur, laden with snow—one mass of bloom; in summer, too, when the brown, staminate clusters: hang thick among the shimmering needles, and the big purple burrs are ripening in the mellow light; but it is during cloudless wind-storms that these colossal pines are most impressively beautiful. Then they bow like willows, their leaves streaming forward all in one direction, and, when the sun shines upon them at the required angle, entire groves glow as if every leaf were burnished silver. The fall of tropic light on the crown of a palm is a truly glorious spectacle, the fervid sun-flood breaking upon the glossy leaves in long lance-rays, at the foot of an enthusiastic cataract, like mountain water among boulders. But to me there is something more impressive in the fall of light upon these noble, silver pine pillars: it is beaten to the finest dust and shed off in myriads of minute sparkles that seem to radiate from the very heart of the tree, as if like rain, falling upon fertile soil, it had been absorbed to reappear in flowers of light. This species also gives forth the finest wind music. After listening to it in all kinds of winds, night and day, season after season, I think I could approximate to my position on the mountain by this pine music alone. If you would catch the tone of separate needles climb a tree in breezy weather. Every needle is carefully tempered and gives forth no uncertain sound, each standing out with no interference excepting during heavy gales; then you may detect the click of one needle from another, readily distinguishable from the free wind-like hum.
The Juniper or Red Cedar (Juniperus occidentalis) is preeminently a rock tree, occupying the baldest domes and pavements in the upper silver fir and alpine zones, at a height of from 7000 to 9500 feet. In such situations, rooted in narrow cracks or fissures, where there is scarcely a handful of soil, it is frequently over eight feet in diameter and not much more in height.
The bark is of a bright cinnamon color and is handsomely braided and reticulated on thrifty trees, flaking off in thin, shining ribbons that are sometimes used by the Indians for tent matting. Its fine color and picturesqueness are appreciated by artists...
When the sublime ice-floods of the glacial period poured down the flank of the Range over what is now Yosemite Valley, they were compelled to break through a dam of domes extending across from Mount Starr King to North Dome; and as the period began to draw near a close the shallowing ice-currents were divided and the South Dome was, perhaps, the first to emerge, burnished and shining like a mirror above the surface of the icy sea; and though it has sustained the wear and tear of the elements tens of thousands of years, it yet remains a telling monument of the action of the great glaciers that brought it to light. Its entire surface is still covered with glacial hieroglyphics whose interpretation is the reward of all who devoutly study them.
Tracing the ways of glaciers, learning how Nature sculptures mountain-waves in making scenery-beauty that so mysteriously influences every human being, is glorious work.
But glaciers, back in their white solitudes, work apart from men, exerting their tremendous energies in silence and darkness. Outspread, spirit-like, they brood above the predestined landscapes, work on unwearied through immeasurable ages, until, in the fullness of time, the mountains and valleys are brought forth, channels furrowed for rivers, basins made for lakes and meadows, and arms of the sea, soils spread for forests and fields; then they shrink and vanish like summer clouds.
No mountain top could be better placed for this most glorious of mountain views—to watch and see the deepening colors of the dawn and the sunbeams streaming through the snowy High Sierra passes, awakening the lakes and crystals, the chilled plant people and winged people, and making everything shine and sing in pure glory. With your heart aglow, spangling Lake Tenaya and Lake May will beckon you away for walks on their ice-burnished shores.
“The most famous and accessible of these cañon valleys, and also the one that presents their most striking and sublime features on the grandest scale, is the Yosemite Valley, comprehensively seen, looks like an immense hall or temple lighted from above. But no temple made with hands can compare with Yosemite. Every rock in its walls seems to glow with life.”
There is a reckoning in all circles about the racism that pervades so much of our history, and it is right, and I support it a thousandfold, to evaluate and ameliorate the damage it has done. I am just a reader and earth ecstatic, and I don’t know the right way to deal with Muir as an author, as there is obvious racism here; but like with misogyny in so called literary classics, it was in the air and the in the water and in the forests. The founders of our country stole this land from indigenous peoples, it is a fact. They committed genocide and atrocities; it is a fact. Where we go from here as descendants and new immigrants (my family) is the way to healing and I have no authority to even speak of it but I support it. I will say all that, and still say, Muir’s words here affected me. They speak of the land in a way that I feel deep into my bones. Forgive us all, and forgive the audacity of any of us to think we know, of the good we do, and the bad, what weight comes done on each side of scale. If I quote Muir and others are hurt by it, I can stop, but I hope that the leading lights of this reckoning find us the middle way…
Between some sublime insights into the light and color and glow of the landscape, this was more a travelogue of where to go and a naturalist's guide to the flora, but the feel of the landscape before crowds is present and feels like a dream. To be in the forest during an earthquake and not be afraid, to be in the moment, feeling and watching the effects just stunned me with its almost surreal quality. It is something I don't wish to experience in my life, so reading it makes it come alive and that is his gift. Most of us are not going to live in the mountains with a piece of bread, so we can experience it as he did in long ago times.
At my feet lay the Great Central Valley of California, level and flowery, like a lake of pure sunshine, forty or fifty miles wide, five hundred miles long, one rich furred garden of yellow Compositæ. And from the eastern boundary of this vast golden flower-bed rose the mighty Sierra, miles in height, and so gloriously colored and so radiant, it seemed not clothed with light, but wholly composed of it, like the wall of some celestial city.
And after ten years of wandering and wondering in the heart of it, rejoicing in its glorious floods of light, the white beams of the morning streaming through the passes, the noonday radiance on the crystal rocks, the flush of the alpenglow, and the irised spray of countless waterfalls, it still seems above all others the Range of Light.
The majestic Sequoia is here, too, the king of conifers, the noblest of all the noble race. These colossal trees are as wonderful in fineness of beauty and proportion as in stature—an assemblage of conifers surpassing all that have ever yet been discovered in the forests of the world. Here indeed is the tree-lover’s paradise; the woods, dry and wholesome, letting in the light in shimmering masses of half sunshine, half shade; the night air as well as the day air indescribably spicy and exhilarating; plushy fir-boughs for campers’ beds, and cascades to sing us to sleep.
From the margin of these glorious forests the first general view of the Valley used to be gained—a revelation in landscape affairs that enriches one’s life forever.
Nor can we here consider the formation of these mountain landscapes—how the crystal rocks were brought to light by glaciers made up of crystal snow, making beauty whose influence is so mysterious on every one who sees it.
All this is invisible from the bottom of the Valley, like a thousand other interesting things. One must labor for beauty as for bread, here as elsewhere.
The Bridal Veil and Vernal Falls are famous for their rainbows; and special visits to them are often made when the sun shines into the spray at the most favorable angle. But amid the spray and foam and fine-ground mist ever rising from the various falls and cataracts there is an affluence and variety of iris bows scarcely known to visitors who stay only a day or two. Both day and night, winter and summer, this divine light may be seen wherever water is falling, dancing, singing; telling the heart-peace of Nature amid the wildest displays of her power.
When the first heavy storms stopped work on the high mountains, I made haste down to my Yosemite den, not to “hole up” and sleep the white months away; I was out every day, and often all night, sleeping but little, studying the so-called wonders and common things ever on show, wading, climbing, sauntering among the blessed storms and calms, rejoicing in almost everything alike that I could see or hear: the glorious brightness of frosty mornings; the sunbeams pouring over the white domes and crags into the groves and waterfalls, kindling marvelous iris fires in the hoarfrost and spray; the great forests and mountains in their deep noon sleep; the good-night alpenglow; the stars; the solemn gazing moon, drawing the huge domes and headlands one by one glowing white out of the shadows hushed and breathless like an audience in awful enthusiasm, while the meadows at their feet sparkle with frost-stars like the sky; the sublime darkness of storm-nights, when all the lights are out; the clouds in whose depths the frail snow-flowers grow; the behavior and many voices of the different kinds of storms, trees, birds, waterfalls, and snow-avalanches in the ever-changing weather.
SNOW BANNERS BUT it is on the mountain tops, when they are laden with loose, dry snow and swept by a gale from the north, that the most magnificent storm scenery is displayed. The peaks along the axis of the Range are then decorated with resplendent banners, some of them more than a mile long, shining, streaming, waving with solemn exuberant enthusiasm as if celebrating some surpassingly glorious event. The snow of which these banners are made falls on the high Sierra in most extravagant abundance, sometimes to a depth of fifteen or twenty feet, coming from the fertile clouds not in large tangled flakes such as one oftentimes sees in Yosemite, seldom even in complete crystals, for many of the starry blossoms fall before they are ripe, while most of those that attain perfect development as six-petaled flowers are more or less broken by glinting and chafing against one another on the way down to their work. This dry frosty snow is prepared for the grand banner-waving celebrations by the action of the wind.
Only the owls seemed to be undisturbed. Before the rumbling echoes had died away a hollow-voiced owl began to hoot in philosophical tranquillity from near the edge of the new talus as if nothing extraordinary had occurred, although, perhaps, he was curious to know what all the noise was about.
It was long before the Valley found perfect rest. The rocks trembled more or less every day for over two months, and I kept a bucket of water on my table to learn what I could of the movements. The blunt thunder in the depths of the mountains was usually followed by sudden jarring, horizontal thrusts from the northward, often succeeded by twisting, up jolting movements.
If for a moment you are inclined to regard these taluses as mere draggled, chaotic dumps, climb to the top of one of them, and run down without any haggling, puttering hesitation, boldly jumping from boulder to boulder with even speed. You will then find your feet playing a tune, and quickly discover the music and poetry of these magnificent rock piles—a fine lesson; and all Nature’s wildness tells the same story—the shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes, geysers, roaring, thundering waves and floods, the silent uprush of sap in plants, storms of every sort—each and all are the orderly beauty-making love-beats of Nature’s heart.
I have often feasted on the beauty of these noble trees when they were towering in all their winter grandeur, laden with snow—one mass of bloom; in summer, too, when the brown, staminate clusters: hang thick among the shimmering needles, and the big purple burrs are ripening in the mellow light; but it is during cloudless wind-storms that these colossal pines are most impressively beautiful. Then they bow like willows, their leaves streaming forward all in one direction, and, when the sun shines upon them at the required angle, entire groves glow as if every leaf were burnished silver. The fall of tropic light on the crown of a palm is a truly glorious spectacle, the fervid sun-flood breaking upon the glossy leaves in long lance-rays, at the foot of an enthusiastic cataract, like mountain water among boulders. But to me there is something more impressive in the fall of light upon these noble, silver pine pillars: it is beaten to the finest dust and shed off in myriads of minute sparkles that seem to radiate from the very heart of the tree, as if like rain, falling upon fertile soil, it had been absorbed to reappear in flowers of light. This species also gives forth the finest wind music. After listening to it in all kinds of winds, night and day, season after season, I think I could approximate to my position on the mountain by this pine music alone. If you would catch the tone of separate needles climb a tree in breezy weather. Every needle is carefully tempered and gives forth no uncertain sound, each standing out with no interference excepting during heavy gales; then you may detect the click of one needle from another, readily distinguishable from the free wind-like hum.
The Juniper or Red Cedar (Juniperus occidentalis) is preeminently a rock tree, occupying the baldest domes and pavements in the upper silver fir and alpine zones, at a height of from 7000 to 9500 feet. In such situations, rooted in narrow cracks or fissures, where there is scarcely a handful of soil, it is frequently over eight feet in diameter and not much more in height.
The bark is of a bright cinnamon color and is handsomely braided and reticulated on thrifty trees, flaking off in thin, shining ribbons that are sometimes used by the Indians for tent matting. Its fine color and picturesqueness are appreciated by artists...
When the sublime ice-floods of the glacial period poured down the flank of the Range over what is now Yosemite Valley, they were compelled to break through a dam of domes extending across from Mount Starr King to North Dome; and as the period began to draw near a close the shallowing ice-currents were divided and the South Dome was, perhaps, the first to emerge, burnished and shining like a mirror above the surface of the icy sea; and though it has sustained the wear and tear of the elements tens of thousands of years, it yet remains a telling monument of the action of the great glaciers that brought it to light. Its entire surface is still covered with glacial hieroglyphics whose interpretation is the reward of all who devoutly study them.
Tracing the ways of glaciers, learning how Nature sculptures mountain-waves in making scenery-beauty that so mysteriously influences every human being, is glorious work.
But glaciers, back in their white solitudes, work apart from men, exerting their tremendous energies in silence and darkness. Outspread, spirit-like, they brood above the predestined landscapes, work on unwearied through immeasurable ages, until, in the fullness of time, the mountains and valleys are brought forth, channels furrowed for rivers, basins made for lakes and meadows, and arms of the sea, soils spread for forests and fields; then they shrink and vanish like summer clouds.
No mountain top could be better placed for this most glorious of mountain views—to watch and see the deepening colors of the dawn and the sunbeams streaming through the snowy High Sierra passes, awakening the lakes and crystals, the chilled plant people and winged people, and making everything shine and sing in pure glory. With your heart aglow, spangling Lake Tenaya and Lake May will beckon you away for walks on their ice-burnished shores.
April 13, 2026
This wonderous version of John Muir’s classic “The Yosemite” is actually two books; one, the inspired, poetic and scientific masterpiece of his adventures and observations in Yosemite Valley during the tail end of the 1800s. The other, woven between the pages, is renowned mountaineer and award winning photographer Galen Rowell’s stunning pictures along with his take, tales and commentary of the places and subjects Muir explored, over a hundred years later. This is a spiritual, environmental and historical treasure.
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