If These Cliffs Could Talk: Tis-sa-ack and Tu-tok-a-nu-la (A Geologic Love Story Redux)

I've been to Yosemite Valley twice in the last month, including a day when the Merced River was still at flood stage. I was reflecting on the many journeys I've made there with my students and with Mrs. Geotripper, and what a stunning place it truly is. I was thinking of a new angle to present some pictures of the latest trips, but then my good friend @phaneritic on Twitter asked a question about quotes concerning the valley that don't involve the writings of John Muir (as wonderful and poetic as his words were). I realized I had written about some of the legends of Yosemite a few years ago, and decided it was time to bring some of them back, in case they were missed before.

These stories also have relevance to the moment because of the decidedly stupid legal war over trademarks being waged between the National Park Service and the recently departed Delaware North concessionaire. One current sign of the ongoing legal battle is the new name for the Ahwahnee Hotel ("Majestic Yosemite") and Curry Village ("Half Dome Village"). Half Dome is a very plain name for such a stupendous rock, and I am thinking the park service missed an opportunity. Tis-sa-ack Village might have been a mouthful to pronounce, but it gives the rock a history and an air of mystery.

And so here it is, the story of Tis-sa-ack and Tu-tok-a-nu-la, a geologic love story, first published in November 14, 2014:

Tis-sa-ack (Half Dome) from near Yosemite Falls

A love story...

Unnumbered snows have come and gone since The Great Spirit led a band of his favorite children into the mountains, and bade them rest in this beautiful Valley of Ah-wah-nee. They were weary and footsore, and were glad to rest after their long journey. Here they found food in abundance. The streams held swarms of fish, meadows were knee-deep in sweet clover, great herds of deer roamed the forests in the Valley, and on the high mountains, oak trees were bending under the weight of their acorns, grass seeds and wild fruits and berries grew in bountiful profusion. Here they stayed and built their villages. They were happy, and multiplied, and prospered and became a great nation.

North Dome, Washington Column, and Half Dome in the clouds

How many stories begin in paradise?

I find the myths of different cultures to be fascinating. They provided their people with an explanation of the unexplainable, a comforting story that suggests there is order in the apparent chaos of the universe. In the perspective of geology, we can sometimes see the whispers of eyewitnesses to significant geologic events: the eruption of Mt. Mazama, for instance, which resulted in the formation of Crater Lake, is described in Native American oral histories. In this post we see one of the legends of Yosemite Valley, with all the embellishments and cultural biases of a 1922 narrative. Still, it's a good story

To their chief came a little son to gladden his heart. They wanted this son to become a great chief, capable of the leadership of a great people. He was made to sleep in the robes of the skins of the beaver and the coyote, that he might grow wise in building and keen of scent. As he grew older he was fed the meat of the fish, that he might become a strong swimmer, and the flesh of the deer, that he might be light and swift of foot. He was made to eat the eggs of the great crane, that he might be keen of sight. He was wrapped in the skin of the monarch of the forest, the grizzly bear, that he might grow up fearless and strong in combat. 

So many stories come with the hero, and the most interesting stories have heroes with flaws...they had everything. But then things happen. The world and the people who live in it are not perfect. And frankly, life would not be interesting.

And, when he grew to manhood, he was a great chief and beloved of all the people. His people prepared for him a lofty throne on the crown of the great rock which guards The Gateway of the Valley, and he was called Tu-tok-a-nu-la, after the great cranes that lived in the meadow near the top. The people of Ah-wah-nee were happy, for Tu-tok-a-nu-la was a wise and a good ruler. From his high rocky throne he kept watch over the Valley and the people whom he loved. He called on The Great Spirit who sent timely rains, so that the acorns grew in abundance, the hunters returned from the forests with game, and the fishermen from the streams with fish. There was peace and plenty throughout the Valley of Ah-wah-nee, and when Tu-tok-a-nu-la held speech with his people from his high throne his voice was deep and strong like the deep sound of the waterfall.

Tis-sa-ack from Sentinel Bridge

But paradise can't last forever. Trouble was coming, or more to the point, the trouble lay hidden in the heart of the hero, and it was about to be made manifest. There were no doubt all kinds of communications between the many Native American bands in California, and the trading of knowledge and technology. I'm sure this led to problems at times as well.

One day as Tu-tok-a-nu-la sat gazing into the glowing colors of the west, he saw approaching his valley a strange people, led by a maiden of wondrous loveliness. He called to them and the maiden answered him, saying, "It is I, Tis-sa-ack. We have come from the land of my people in the far south to visit with you. We have heard of the great and good chief, Tu-tok-a-nu-la, of his great people and his wonderful valley. We bring presents of baskets and beads and skins. After we have rested we will return to my people in the far south." Tu-tok-a-nu-la welcomed the fair visitor from the land to the
south and had prepared for her and her people a home on the summit of the great dome at the eastern end of the Valley. There she stayed and taught the women of Ah-wah-nee the arts of her people. Tu-tok-a-nu-la visited her often in her mountain home. He was charmed by her wonderful beauty and sweetness, and begged her to stay and become his wife, but she denied him, saying: "No, I must soon return with my people to their home in the far south." And, when Tu-tok-a-nu-la grew importunate in his wooing, she left her home in the night and was never seen again.
 

To-ko-ya (North Dome), Nangas (Washington Column) and Tis-sa-ack (Half Dome) from Glacier Point. The Ahwiyah Point rockfall scar is visible just right of center below Half Dome.

The perfect women, the Helen of Troy, the Eve. Of course, perfection is a tricky concept, subject to many biases and assumptions. It doesn't much take into account the actual relationship between those involved. As Mr. Spock mentioned in a famous episode of Star Trek: "After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting". Bad things are about to happen.

I admit, I've never heard the word importunate before. 

When the great chief knew that she was gone, a terrible loneliness and sorrow came to him, and he wandered away through the forests in search of her, forgetting his people in Ah-wah-nee. So strong was his love for her, and so deep his sorrow, that he forgot to call upon The Great Spirit to send the timely rains. So great was his neglect that the streams grew smaller and smaller and finally became dry. The crops failed. The hunters came back from the forests without meat, and the fishermen returned from the streams empty-handed. The leaves and the green acorns fell from the trees, and the bright flowers and green grasses became dry and brown.

From Washburn Point it is obvious that Half Dome isn't just a boring name, it is a mathematically wrong name. Three-Quarter Dome, maybe. I would just go with Tis-sa-ack

This is where the geologist in me starts paying attention. California has droughts, and there is evidence of mega-droughts that lasted more than a century. Check out this post for some of the striking evidence. These droughts both occurred within the last 2,000 years, recently enough to be remembered in the oral histories of a people.

And then things get interesting in a hurry...

The Great Spirit became very angry with Tu-tok-a-nu-la. The earth trembled with his wrath so that the rocks fell down into the Valley from the surrounding cliffs. The sky and the mountains belched forth smoke and flame. The great dome that had been the home of Tis-sa-ack, was rent asunder and half of it fell into the Valley. The melting snows from the high mountains came down into the Valley in a flood and drowned hundreds of the people. But the wrath of The Great Spirit was quickly spent, and the heavens again grew quiet. The floods receded, the sun shone, and once more peace and calm reigned over Ah-wah-nee. The life-giving moisture from the renewed streams crept into the parched soil. The oak trees put on new leaves and acorns. The grasses again became fresh and green, the flowers lifted their drooping heads and took on their old gay colors. The fish came back to the streams, and the game to the forests.

Wow.

"The earth trembled...so that the rocks fell down into the Valley from the surrounding cliffs". Earthquakes have rocked California for a lot longer than humans have been around, and no doubt played an important part in causing mass wasting within the valley. John Muir experienced the 1872 Lone Pine earthquake while in Yosemite Valley (magnitude 7.8 or higher) and witnessed the collapse of a cliff. I've witnessed a few small rockfalls that I will never forget. Imagine the impact of a really large quake and the accompanying rock falls on the collective memory of a people.

"The sky and mountains belched forth smoke and flame". Yosemite lies just west of the Long Valley Caldera and the Mono Craters, and eruptions have occurred there as recently as a few hundred years ago. Imagine the impact of a fair-sized eruption over the mountains on a people who maybe had never witnessed such a thing, or only heard about it in legends.

"The melting snows from the high mountains came down into the Valley in a flood and drowned hundreds of the people." It's not hard to imagine the impact of a Pineapple Express (an atmospheric river storm) falling onto a thick snowpack in the mountains above Yosemite Valley. Such an event took place in 1997 (be sure to check out the video). Much of the valley floor was covered by as much as 6-8 feet of water, and the event was devastating to the human developments in Yosemite Valley.


Ironically, the natural environment was far less devastated. The ecosystem of Yosemite evolved in an environment of occasional huge floods, and life sprang back quickly.

And, when the Valley was once again clothed in beauty and plenty, there appeared on the rent face of the dome which had been her home, the beautiful face of Tis-sa-ack, where it can still be seen to this day. And the dome was named Tis-sa-ack, in memory of the fair visitor who had been loved by all the people of Ah-wah-nee. At the same time, that all might hold his memory in their hearts, there appeared on the face of the great rock supporting his throne, the majestic figure of the great chief, dressed in a flowing robe and pointing a finger to where he had gone, to El-o-win, the happy land beyond the setting sun.

And thus we have the story of how Half Dome, Washington Column, and North Dome came to be. I am struck by how lifeless these names actually are, and I wish we could see their names changed to reflect the very interesting stories of their origins.

We have stories too of the formation of how these rocks came to be. They involve the formation of granitic magma deep in the hellish regions of the Earth's crust, the intrusion and cooling of the granite, the uplift and erosion of the rocks by rivers and glaciers, and the shaping of the rocks by the working of jointing, exfoliation, ice, and mass wasting. It's a good story, based on careful observations, but the ancient legends? They were based on careful observations as well. The Native Americans maybe didn't have the technology we have today, but they did a pretty good job of describing the phenomena, and designing models to explain their observations. 
 
This version of the Half Dome story is from The Lore and the Lure of The Yosemite by Herbert Earl Wilson, published in 1922. Another legend of Half Dome involves an argument between a husband and wife, with thrown baskets and other unpleasantness. I like the story above better!

If These Cliffs Could Talk: The Ah-wah-nee, To-tau-kon-nu'-la, and a Different History of the Sierra Nevada

The first question might be "what is that?". It's a pair of climbers, Kevin Jorgeson and Tommy Caldwell, on El Capitan (To-tau-kon-nu'-la) in Yosemite Valley (Ah-wah-nee) who are seeking to do something never before done...a free climb of the one of the most difficult rock faces in the world. Free climbing means they do the climb with their hands and legs only, not using artificial supports. It's not entirely insane, as they wear rope harnesses to protect them from falls, which they do a lot. In any case, their effort has made it into the national media. They haven't reached the top yet, but you can follow their saga here.

The climb up El Capitan involves about 3,000 vertical feet (914 meters). I was in Yosemite yesterday, and we reached the meadow below El Cap about sunset. Most of the spectators had already wandered off, and we wondered if we could see the climbers. It didn't take too long to find them, but needless to say, they were dwarfed by the cliff. I'm doing these pictures backwards if I'm trying to show how small they are against the cliff, but with a purpose. I realized the climbers had a slightly different story to tell, but probably not one they were intending.

In the original story told by the first people about the cliff, two bear cubs were stuck on top of the cliff and none of the animals were able to rescue them until an inchworm volunteered to climb the vertical face. It was ultimately successful, although the effort took weeks.

Geologists tell stories of the origin of the Sierra Nevada as well. Their stories are based on a different way of understanding things, and their stories are informed by data and observations, both from the Sierra Nevada, and around the world. It occurred to me that the sheer cliff of El Capitan is a metaphor that we can use to understand the immensity of geologic time.

There is nothing quite like seeing the climbers sink into insignificance against the vast expanse of vertical granite. If we imagine each foot of the rock face to represent one million years, the entire cliff face represents 3 billion years. That represents about two-thirds of the entire existence of planet Earth. So we start climbing the face as the inchworm did. There was a lot going on around the world at that time. The first kinds of life had come into existence (primitive microbes), and the first continents were starting to form from the coalescence of numerous volcanic islands. The concentration of oxygen in the atmosphere was starting to rise, albeit very slowly. But there was no vestige of the Sierra Nevada. No rocks of that age exist in California, and for that matter in pretty much the entire American West.

So we start climbing the cliff, each foot representing the passage of a million years. The oldest rocks in California, found in Death Valley and the Transverse Ranges, are 1.7 billion years old. We would find them 1,300 feet up the cliff, perhaps very close to where the climber's base camp dangles. The oldest rocks of the Sierra Nevada found in any abundance are around 500-600 million years old, meaning we would find them at the 2,400-2,500 feet above the valley floor. Keep in mind, every foot is one million years.

The oldest Sierra rocks were formed in an oceanic setting, and were pushed into the edge of the North American continent at different times between 400 and 200 million years. We've reached 2,600-2,800 feet up the cliff as we climb towards the present day. And we haven't even talked about the most common rock in the Sierra Nevada, the granitic intrusions. They happened when oceanic crust was being subducted underneath the continent. As the downward slipping slab of crust warmed up, water was liberated, changing the melting point of rocks at the base of the continental crust. The plumes of molten rock rose from the depths to within several miles of the Earth's surface. There it cooled slowly, forming the crystalline granitic rock. These events took place in episodes extending from 145 to 85 million years ago. In other words, we are now a mere 85 feet from the summit of the 3,000 foot cliff.

From 85 million to maybe 45 million years ago, miles of rock were eroded, exposing the granite at the surface. The mountain range we now call the Sierra Nevada did not yet exist in a way we would recognize. Instead, large rivers with a source in Nevada or farther out flowed westward into a sea where the Great Valley exists today. There may have been highlands, a debate continues. What we do know is that the mountains were most certainly close to their present day elevation by 2 million years ago. That is, two feet from the top of the cliff. At this time, the climate of the planet cooled, and a series of ice ages commenced. Time after time the ice advanced, melted back, advanced, and melt back yet again. This happened a dozen times or more.

About 750,000 years ago a titanic explosion rocked the Mammoth Lakes area. The eruption of the Long Valley Caldera put 150 cubic miles of ash into the atmosphere, covering the American West as far east as Kansas and Nebraska. A vast hole, twenty miles across, ten miles wide, and two miles deep, was left behind. This happened one inch from the summit on our imaginary journey. The last advance of the ice ages receded around 12,000 years ago (about a tenth of an inch from the summit). It was about this time that we have the first well-documented arrival of humans in North America. A tenth of an inch. Everything else, cultural development, wars and invasions, growth of mega-cities, all of it, happened in the infinitesimally small amount of space of the last hundredth of an inch from the summit.

I can't really say that this is the handiest or clearest way of illustrating the immensity of geologic time, but it's what occurred to me as I stared at the climbers inching their way up the cliff, much as the inchworm did many years earlier as it sought to save the bear cubs in the depths of time. The Earth has been here for a long time, and we have not. It's amazing how many changes we have caused in our brief time on this planet.

Postscript: And they've done it! The first ever free climb of the Dawn Wall ( http://www.vox.com/2015/1/14/7545571/el-capitan-climb)

If These Cliffs Could Talk: The Cliffs of the Ah-wah-nee that Never Got Legends

Do you know these places? Would a place that has cliffs like these merit being declared a national park?

Thankfully, these rocky precipices are in a national park already. But these are not the iconic features that end up in the photo collections of the millions of tourists that visit this place every year. But these cliffs contribute to the awesome scenery by serving as the backdrop for some very famous rocks. They serve as the supporting chorus behind the hardrock band, so to speak. They are the unsung cliffs of Yosemite Valley (the Ah-wah-nee). As far as I know, few of these escarpments have a mythical legend that celebrates their existence.

If these cliffs of Yosemite Valley could talk, they would have something to say about my recent little miniseries on the most famous rocks that can be seen from the valley floor. They would say "but, none of these cliffs could be famous without the un-famous cliffs and slopes that lay between".

The first picture in this post has a waterfall that is usually dry by the time most tourists begin arriving in June or July. When it is running it is often mistaken for Yosemite Falls by first-time visitors (until they see Yosemite Falls anyway). It is Ribbon Falls, which is actually the waterfall at Yosemite with the greatest unbroken drop (1,612 feet; 491 meters). Compare that to Upper Yosemite Falls at 1,430 feet (436 meters). The total drop of the three steps of Yosemite Falls totals 2,425 feet (735 meters), making the better-known fall one of the top ten highest falls in the world. Ribbon is apparently 99th. But imagine if it were the only fall at Yosemite. How famous it would be! It doesn't always get noticed because it lies just west of the boldest cliff of El Capitan.

The cliff in the picture above is an unnamed spire in the vicinity of Sentinel Rock. Although the cliff is thousands of feet tall, it is less imposing than Sentinel because it is more highly jointed (fractured). The rocks have been darkened by lichens and staining and thus appear darker than most of the granite cliffs (fresh exposures from more recent rockfalls reveal the lighter rock).

The partly rounded rock on the left in the picture above is the familiar Leaning Tower, although the lean is not so prominent from this angle. The rugged cliffs on the right include Dewey, Crocker, and Stanford Points, but the cliffs have no particular name. Like the previous photo, the rocks are more highly jointed, resulting in a recessed cliff face with talus (slopes of fallen boulders) covering the lower portions.

To me, one of the most striking features of Yosemite Valley is the total non-cliff that lies just west of Ribbon Falls and El Capitan. Instead of a vertical precipice, the slope is almost entirely buried in talus from the constant collapse of what cliffs there are. The dark-colored plutonic rock is called, not too surprisingly, the Diorite of the Rockslides. It is the most highly jointed of all the rocks in Yosemite Valley.

The next picture is a familiar view to anyone who has visited Glacier Point. Yosemite Falls is apparent on the left, and the Royal Arches are partly visible on the right, but the cliffs in-between are less familiar, in part because of the intense jointing that has led to a less bold appearance. The deep cleft in the center of the photo is Indian Creek, and the crenelated cliffs to the left of the creek are called the Castle Cliffs.

Panorama Cliff appears in many photographs taken from the vicinity of the Ahwahnee Hotel, but few know the name. It forms the south wall of the Merced River canyon where it emerges from Little Yosemite Valley.

One would think that waterfalls thousands of feet high would get more attention, but these two are very seasonal, generally drying up by late May or early June. The one above is the Widow's Tears, a 1,170 foot high waterfall tucked into the cliffs near Crocker and Stanford Points west of Leaning Tower. It has been mistaken for and mislabeled as Silver Strand Fall, which is much shorter.

And finally, there is Sentinel Falls, a 1,920 ft (590 m) fall on the west flank of Sentinel Rock. Like the other less famous waterfalls, it is ephemeral, and often dry by early summer. The biggest drop among the many cascades is about 500 feet high.

Light and shadow. Positive and negative.Yin and yang.

Mrs. Geotripper, the artist, tells me that yin and yang can be thought of as complementary (rather than opposing) forces that interact to form a dynamic system in which the whole is greater than the assembled parts. That is what these cliffs accomplish at Yosemite Valley. For every bold cliff like El Capitan, Half Dome, or Sentinel Rock, there are recessed cliffs that lie in the shadows. Hidden among these recessed cliffs are beautiful waterfalls that during the right time of year rank as some of the world's highest and most dramatic. If we could just find them among the richness of features at Yosemite Valley!

If These Cliffs Could Talk: Tu-tok-a-nu'-la, the Greatest Cliff of All in the Ah-wah-nee

So...who was the first to climb El Capitan, the stupendous cliff in Yosemite Valley? There are those who say it was Warren Harding, Wayne Merry and George Whitmore in 1958, but the elder people know better. It was climbed in the ancient days by the Tu-tok-a-nu'-la. That was the reason for the name they gave the incredible cliff.

El Capitan/Tu-tok-a-nu'-la stands out as one of the tallest sheer cliffs on the planet, at about 3,000 feet (Mt. Thor on Baffin Island is probably the tallest drop at 4,101 feet). The cliff is composed principly of at least three kinds of plutonic igneous rock, the El Capitan granite, the Taft granite, and the Diorite of North America, but recent detailed mapping recognizes a total of eight different intrusions.

The rocks date from the age of the dinosaurs, the Cretaceous Period, around 100 million years ago. The complex mix of rocks represents the interior plumbing of a long gone volcanic system much like those that are active in the Cascades or the Andes Mountains. Imagine standing six miles below the summit of Mt. Shasta or Mt. Rainier in the complex system of molten or semi-molten magma chambers and you have the correct picture.

The mere presence of granitic rock at the Earth's surface speaks of incredible amounts of erosion. Five or six vertical miles of overlying rock has been eroded off the Sierra Nevada, dumped into the Great Valley (which by coincidence is about five miles deep with sediments), or into the Pacific Ocean through San Francisco Bay, or the early canyons that existed to the south. Debates continue as to the precise rate and timing of the uplift and erosion of the mountains, but tricky arguments have led to creative new approaches to research.

The last part of the story is the erosion and carving of the great cliff. The Merced River started the process, carving a deep V-shaped canyon as the mountains first rose by tilting westward. Around two million years ago, the climate began to fluctuate wildly, causing a series of ice ages. The so-called Pre-Tahoe or Sherwin stage around 800,000 years did most of the work of shaping the vertical walls, as the whole of Yosemite Valley was entirely filled with ice in that period. Subsequent glacial advances barely reached the base of El Capitan.

Rockfalls continue to change the shape of the cliff. I was resting near the top of Sentinel Dome in October of 2010 when I heard a loud commotion across the valley. I jumped up in time to see a massive plume of dust spreading from the base of El Capitan, caused by the collapse of around 1,000 cubic meters of rock from the cliff. Several climbers, including one of my former students, were hanging from the cliff just a few yards away. Significant chunks of rock tend to break off at an average of once a week.

The first people of the valley of the Ahwahnee tended to see the cliffs as having originated through growth. Their legend involves two human children or two bear cubs (I prefer the latter). The story comes to us from Yosemite Indians; Yesterday and Today by Elizabeth H. Godfrey (1941):

Long, long ago there lived in the Valley of Ah-wahnee two cub bears. One hot day they slipped away from their mother and went down to the river for a swim. When they came out of the water, they were so tired that they lay down to rest on an immense, flat boulder, and fell fast asleep. While they slumbered, the huge rock began to slowly rise until at length it towered into the blue sky far above the tree-tops, and wooly, white clouds fell over the sleeping cubs like fleecy coverlets.

I imagine that from the right perspective, the cliff did rise as the mountains did, and was simply exposed by the flowing river and glaciers. The animals in the story have a different sense of time, though. That was a very long nap!

In vain did the distracted mother bear search for her two cubs, and although she questioned every animal in the valley, not one could give her a clue as to what had happened to them. At last To-tah-kan, the sharp-eyed crane, discovered them still asleep on top of the great rock. Then the mother bear became more anxious than ever lest her cubs should awaken, and feel so frightened upon finding themselves up near the blue sky that they would jump off and be killed.

All the other animals in the valley felt very sorry for the mother bear and promised to help rescue the cubs. Gathering together, each attempted to climb the great rock, but it was as slippery as glass, and their feet would not hold. Little field mouse climbed two feet, and became frightened; the rat fell backward and lost hold after three feet; the fox went a bit higher, but it was no use. The larger animals could not do much better, although they tried so hard that to this day one can see the dark scratches of their feet at the base of the rock

When all had given up, along came the tiny measuring worm.

“I believe I can climb up to the top and bring down the cubs,” it courageously announced.

Of course, the other animals all sneered and made sport of this boast from one of the most insignificant of their number, but the measuring worm paid no attention to their insults and immediately began the perilous ascent. “Too-tack, too-tack, To-to-kon-oo-lah,” it chanted, and surely enough its feet clung even to that polished surface. Higher and higher it went, until the animals below began to realize that the measuring worm was not so stupid after all. Midway the great rock flared, and the measuring worm clung at a dizzy height only by its front feet.

Continuing to chant its song, the frightened measuring worm managed to twist its body and to take a zig-zag course, which made the climb a great deal longer, but much safer. Weak and exhausted it at last reached the top of the great rock, and in some miraculous manner awakened the cubs and guided them safely down to their grief-stricken mother. Of course, the whole animal kingdom was delighted and overjoyed with the return of the cubs and the praises of the measuring worm were loudly sung by all. As a token of honor the animals decided to name the great rock “To-to-kon-lah” in honor of the measuring worm.

It's a great story, especially the idea that everyone has skills that contribute to the good of the group or society. It reminds me of the parable or fable of the mouse and lion (mouse actually has a skill that saves the life of the lion after it shows mercy to the rodent).

In any case, Tu-tok-a-nu'-la is one of the world's great sights. I would say "don't miss it" when you visit Yosemite Valley, but the fact is, you cannot miss it. I can say "don't miss a sunset" though. It's during the moments of last light that the cliff truly glows.

If These Cliffs Could Talk: Wa-ha'-ka, the Three Brothers Who Are All Out of Joint

Actually the Three Brothers are just full of joints, and that's the problem.

If any legends exist concerning the rocks known as the Three Brothers in Yosemite Valley, they have not come to me via the anthropologists or the internet. The rocks seem have been called Wa-ha'-ka, Wawhawke, or Kom-po-pai-zes, with meanings that include leaping frogs, couples enjoying each other (to use a family-friendly description), or the one that makes the most sense to geologists, "falling rocks". Rocks fall in Yosemite on a constant basis, but the Three Brothers are prizewinners in that regard.

The rather boring English name came from a historical event when James Savage's militia (the Mariposa Battalion) caught up to three of Chief Tenaya's sons near the base of the rock in 1851. It's a pretty mundane name, and I would really love to see a campaign started to officially re-name all of Yosemite's most prominent rocks with their ancestral First Nation monikers.

In any case, Wa-ha'-ka is a unique cliff for the three striking peaks, Eagle (the highest), Middle Brother, and Lower Brother. The triangular shape is derived from the joint pattern that courses through the cliffs. As mentioned previously in this short blog miniseries on Yosemite, joints are the fractures that occur in granitic rocks as they reach the surface and come under lateral pressure from nearby fault zones or regional stresses. There are two intersecting joint systems that formed the Three Brothers, one descending about a 60 degree angle. It can be seen best from across the valley at Taft Point, and the related Taft Fissures. The joints run through El Capitan granite and Sentinel granodiorite.

The Three Brothers and Yosemite Falls from Taft Point

Notice in the photo below how the slope in the foreground near Taft Point is angled the same direction as the joints at Three Brothers across the valley. There are many good reasons to make the short hike out to Taft Point, and this is one of them.

There is a very good reason thinking that First Nation name of the rock means "falling rocks". Crossing joints provide the instability that leads to slope failure. The rocks here fall often, and indeed in 1987, the largest recorded rockfall in recorded history at Yosemite took place at the base of Middle Brother. Thankfully the park road had been closed as a precaution and no one was hurt.

The Middle Brother Slide

The park historian at the time, Jim Snyder, was standing in the meadow below and described what happened (from Wieczorek et al., 1992*):

At 2:47 p.m. PST on March 10, 1987, a large rock fall dropped 800 m from the face of Middle Brother and spread rapidly across a talus cone, covered Northside Drive, and sent boulders across the Merced River. Much smaller rock falls from Middle Brother had begun on March 8, and by about 2:20 p.m. on March 10, because of an increasing number of rock falls and audible rock popping noises from the face of Middle Brother, Northside Drive, the main exit road from the valley, had been closed and the portion of Leidig Meadow below Middle Brother had been cordoned off.

...Jim Snyder observed the rock fall initiate as an intact planar slab of rock that separated from the cliff face. As the slab fell it appeared to shorten in a folding-like manner similar to the steps of an escalator. The slab disaggregated into a rock avalanche upon hitting and sliding along a prominent ledge before falling onto the talus cone below.

Another large rock fall from the face of Middle Brother occurred later that day at 5:10 p.m. The volume of these rock falls totaled an estimated 600,000 cubic meters of material weighing about 1.3 million metric tons. Dozens of smaller rock falls continued during the next several days..."

*Wieczorek, G.F., Snyder, J.B., Alger, C.S., and Isaacson, K.A., 1992, Rock Falls in Yosemite Valley, California, U.S. Geological Survey Open File Report 92-387, 186 pages.

If These Cliffs Could Talk: The Legend of Kos-su-kah, Tee-hee-nay, and Hum-mo in the Valley of the Ah-wah-nee

 

I've done a lot of traveling in the last month, from Arizona and back, to Pinnacles National Park, and then through Northern California to the Oregon Coast. In the blogging sense, I got distracted from a little mini-blog-series I was doing on Yosemite Valley, but today we're back among some of the most beautiful cliffs in the world.

There is a spire kind of hidden in plain view among the high precipices near Yosemite Falls, the Three Brothers and Yosemite Point. It's more prominent from some angles than others, but it helps if some clouds are pouring over the high cliffs, defining it. The spire is called the Lost Arrow. It formed in the El Capitan granite and Sentinel granodiorite where vertical joints have caused the rocks around the spire to fall away (joints are straight fractures in the rock caused by the release of pressure as the rocks are exposed by erosion).

This is what joints look like if there isn't an adjacent 3,000 foot cliff (Tokopah Valley in Sequoia National Park)

As with many of the distinctive rocks of the valley, there is a Miwok legend told of it, not so much as its origin, but of an event to which it is related. As I read this narrative, I was struck by the sensitivity and heart of the story. It has a bit less of the fantastical mythological aspects that often accompany such stories, and thus in a way seems grounded in possible real events. In a biblical setting, this would be like comparing the narratives of Genesis floods and Egyptian Plagues with their apocalyptic themes to the later stories of King David and his relationships with Jonathan or Bathsheba. Or maybe the narratives concerning Ruth and Boaz.

We pick up the story as it is related by Galen Clark in The Indians of the Yosemite Valley and Vicinity (1904):

Tee-hee'-nay was a beautiful Ah-wah-nee maiden, said to be the most beautiful of her tribe, and she was beloved by Kos-su'-kah, a strong and valiant young brave. Valuable presents had been made to the bride's parents, and they had given their consent to an early marriage, which was to be celebrated by a great feast.

To provide an abundance of venison and other meat for this banquet, Kos-su'-kah gathered together his young companions and went into the mountains in search of game. In order that Tee-hee'-nay might know of his welfare and the success of the hunt, it was agreed between the lovers that at sunset Kos-su'-kah should go to the high rock to the east of Cho'-lack (Yosemite Falls), and should shoot an arrow into the Valley, to which should be attached a number of grouse feathers corresponding to the number of deer that had fallen before the skill of the hunters.

At the time appointed Tee-hee'-nay went near the foot of the great cliff and waited, with her eyes raised to the towering rocks above, hoping with her keen sight to see the form of her lover outlined against the sky, but no form could she see, and no arrow fell into the Valley. As darkness gathered, gloomy forebodings took possession of her, and she climbed part way up the canyon called Le-ham'-i-tee because the arrow-wood grew there, and finally she stood at the very foot of the rocky wall which rose to dizzy heights above her, and there she waited through the long night.

The Miwoks and other First Nation people who utilized Yosemite Valley for thousands of years no doubt had a good understanding of the geologic hazards of the valley. In about eighty visits to Yosemite Valley, I've seen two rockfalls, and heard several others. They are common events in the glacially steepened valley. Joints and exfoliation fractures provide the loosened rock, while ice wedging or earthquakes provide the tipping point that sends the rocks plummeting to the valley floor.

With the first streak of dawn she bounded swiftly up the rough canyon, for she was fully convinced that some terrible fate had overtaken the brave Kos-su'-kah, and soon she -stood upon the lofty summit, where she found her lover's footsteps leading towards the edge of the precipice. Drawing nearer she was startled to find that a portion of the cliff had given way, and, upon peering over the brink, what was her horror to discover the blood-stained and lifeless body of Kos-su'-kah lying on a rocky ledge far beneath.

Summoning assistance by means of a signal fire, which was seen from the Valley below, a rope was made of sapling tamaracks lashed firmly together with thongs from one of the deer that was to have furnished the marriage feast, and Tee-hee'-nay herself insisted on being lowered over the precipice to recover the body of her lover. This was at last successfully accomplished, and when his ghastly form lay once more upon the rocky summit, she threw herself on his bosom and gave way to a passionate outburst of grief.

Finally she became quiet, but when they stooped to raise her they found that her spirit had fled to join the lost Kos-su'-kah, and that the lovers were re-united in death.

The fateful arrow that was the cause of so much sorrow could never be found, and the Indians believe that it was taken away by the spirits of Kos-su'-kah and Tee-hee'-nay. In memory of them, and of this tragedy, the slender spire of rock that rises heavenward near the top of the cliff at this point is known among the Indians as Hum-mo', or the Lost Arrow.

There are so many elements of humanity in this legend, even to the echoes of the ending of Romeo and Juliet (there is also a favorite folk song of the eastern Sierra Nevada with a similar tragic ending: Darcy Farrow). After all, what is the role of a myth but to teach us about life, both the happy parts and the tragic ones? This is one of my favorite Sierra legends.

I couldn't help but notice that in the legend it is a remarkable thing to have descended a vertical cliff, something that today is considered a form of recreation. One year I caught sight of someone tight-rope walking from the Lost Arrow back to the main cliff. Times are different...

If These Cliffs Could Talk: Tis-sa-ack and Tu-tok-a-nu-la (A Geologic Love Story)

Tis-sa-ack (Half Dome) from near Yosemite Falls

A love story...

Unnumbered snows have come and gone since The Great Spirit led a band of his favorite children into the mountains, and bade them rest in this beautiful Valley of Ah-wah-nee. They were weary and footsore, and were glad to rest after their long journey. Here they found food in abundance. The streams held swarms of fish, meadows were knee-deep in sweet clover, great herds of deer roamed the forests in the Valley, and on the high mountains, oak trees were bending under the weight of their acorns, grass seeds and wild fruits and berries grew in bountiful profusion. Here they stayed and built their villages. They were happy, and multiplied, and prospered and became a great nation.

North Dome, Washington Column, and Half Dome in the clouds

How many stories begin in paradise?

I find the myths of different cultures to be fascinating. They provided their people with an explanation of the unexplainable, a comforting story that suggests there is order in the apparent chaos of the universe. In the perspective of geology, we can sometimes see the whispers of eyewitnesses to significant geologic events: the eruption of Mt. Mazama, for instance, which resulted in the formation of Crater Lake, is described in Native American oral histories. In this post we see one of the legends of Yosemite Valley, with all the embellishments and cultural biases of a 1922 narrative. Still, it's a good story

To their chief came a little son to gladden his heart. They wanted this son to become a great chief, capable of the leadership of a great people. He was made to sleep in the robes of the skins of the beaver and the coyote, that he might grow wise in building and keen of scent. As he grew older he was fed the meat of the fish, that he might become a strong swimmer, and the flesh of the deer, that he might be light and swift of foot. He was made to eat the eggs of the great crane, that he might be keen of sight. He was wrapped in the skin of the monarch of the forest, the grizzly bear, that he might grow up fearless and strong in combat. 

So many stories come with the hero, and the most interesting stories have heroes with flaws...they had everything. But then things happen. The world and the people who live in it are not perfect. And frankly, life would not be interesting.

And, when he grew to manhood, he was a great chief and beloved of all the people. His people prepared for him a lofty throne on the crown of the great rock which guards The Gateway of the Valley, and he was called Tu-tok-a-nu-la, after the great cranes that lived in the meadow near the top. The people of Ah-wah-nee were happy, for Tu-tok-a-nu-la was a wise and a good ruler. From his high rocky throne he kept watch over the Valley and the people whom he loved. He called on The Great Spirit who sent timely rains, so that the acorns grew in abundance, the hunters returned from the forests with game, and the fishermen from the streams with fish. There was peace and plenty throughout the Valley of Ah-wah-nee, and when Tu-tok-a-nu-la held speech with his people from his high throne his voice was deep and strong like the deep sound of the waterfall.

Tis-sa-ack from Sentinel Bridge

But paradise can't last forever. Trouble was coming, or more to the point, the trouble lay hidden in the heart of the hero, and it was about to be made manifest. There were no doubt all kinds of communications between the many Native American bands in California, and the trading of knowledge and technology. I'm sure this led to problems at times as well.

One day as Tu-tok-a-nu-la sat gazing into the glowing colors of the west, he saw approaching his valley a strange people, led by a maiden of wondrous loveliness. He called to them and the maiden answered him, saying, "It is I, Tis-sa-ack. We have come from the land of my people in the far south to visit with you. We have heard of the great and good chief, Tu-tok-a-nu-la, of his great people and his wonderful valley. We bring presents of baskets and beads and skins. After we have rested we will return to my people in the far south." Tu-tok-a-nu-la welcomed the fair visitor from the land to the
south and had prepared for her and her people a home on the summit of the great dome at the eastern end of the Valley. There she stayed and taught the women of Ah-wah-nee the arts of her people. Tu-tok-a-nu-la visited her often in her mountain home. He was charmed by her wonderful beauty and sweetness, and begged her to stay and become his wife, but she denied him, saying: "No, I must soon return with my people to their home in the far south." And, when Tu-tok-a-nu-la grew importunate in his wooing, she left her home in the night and was never seen again.
 

To-ko-ya (North Dome), Nangas (Washington Column) and Tis-sa-ack (Half Dome) from Glacier Point. The Ahwiyah Point rockfall scar is visible just right of center below Half Dome.

The perfect women, the Helen of Troy, the Eve. Of course, perfection is a tricky concept, subject to many biases and assumptions. It doesn't much take into account the actual relationship between those involved. As Mr. Spock mentioned in a famous episode of Star Trek: "After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting". Bad things are about to happen.

I admit, I've never heard the word importunate before. 

When the great chief knew that she was gone, a terrible loneliness and sorrow came to him, and he wandered away through the forests in search of her, forgetting his people in Ah-wah-nee. So strong was his love for her, and so deep his sorrow, that he forgot to call upon The Great Spirit to send the timely rains. So great was his neglect that the streams grew smaller and smaller and finally became dry. The crops failed. The hunters came back from the forests without meat, and the fishermen returned from the streams empty-handed. The leaves and the green acorns fell from the trees, and the bright flowers and green grasses became dry and brown.

From Washburn Point it is obvious that Half Dome isn't just a boring name, it is a mathematically wrong name. Three-Quarter Dome, maybe. I would just go with Tis-sa-ack

This is where the geologist in me starts paying attention. California has droughts, and there is evidence of mega-droughts that lasted more than a century. Check out this post for some of the striking evidence. These droughts both occurred within the last 2,000 years, recently enough to be remembered in the oral histories of a people.

And then things get interesting in a hurry...

The Great Spirit became very angry with Tu-tok-a-nu-la. The earth trembled with his wrath so that the rocks fell down into the Valley from the surrounding cliffs. The sky and the mountains belched forth smoke and flame. The great dome that had been the home of Tis-sa-ack, was rent asunder and half of it fell into the Valley. The melting snows from the high mountains came down into the Valley in a flood and drowned hundreds of the people. But the wrath of The Great Spirit was quickly spent, and the heavens again grew quiet. The floods receded, the sun shone, and once more peace and calm reigned over Ah-wah-nee. The life-giving moisture from the renewed streams crept into the parched soil. The oak trees put on new leaves and acorns. The grasses again became fresh and green, the flowers lifted their drooping heads and took on their old gay colors. The fish came back to the streams, and the game to the forests.

Wow.

"The earth trembled...so that the rocks fell down into the Valley from the surrounding cliffs". Earthquakes have rocked California for a lot longer than humans have been around, and no doubt played an important part in causing mass wasting within the valley. John Muir experienced the 1872 Lone Pine earthquake while in Yosemite Valley (magnitude 7.8 or higher) and witnessed the collapse of a cliff. I've witnessed a few small rockfalls that I will never forget. Imagine the impact of a really large quake and the accompanying rock falls on the collective memory of a people.

"The sky and mountains belched forth smoke and flame". Yosemite lies just west of the Long Valley Caldera and the Mono Craters, and eruptions have occurred there as recently as a few hundred years ago. Imagine the impact of a fair-sized eruption over the mountains on a people who maybe had never witnessed such a thing, or only heard about it in legends.

"The melting snows from the high mountains came down into the Valley in a flood and drowned hundreds of the people." It's not hard to imagine the impact of a Pineapple Express (an atmospheric river storm) falling onto a thick snowpack in the mountains above Yosemite Valley. Such an event took place in 1997 (be sure to check out the video). Much of the valley floor was covered by as much as 6-8 feet of water, and the event was devastating to the human developments in Yosemite Valley.


Ironically, the natural environment was far less devastated. The ecosystem of Yosemite evolved in an environment of occasional huge floods, and life sprang back quickly.

And, when the Valley was once again clothed in beauty and plenty, there appeared on the rent face of the dome which had been her home, the beautiful face of Tis-sa-ack, where it can still be seen to this day. And the dome was named Tis-sa-ack, in memory of the fair visitor who had been loved by all the people of Ah-wah-nee. At the same time, that all might hold his memory in their hearts, there appeared on the face of the great rock supporting his throne, the majestic figure of the great chief, dressed in a flowing robe and pointing a finger to where he had gone, to El-o-win, the happy land beyond the setting sun.

And thus we have the story of how Half Dome, Washington Column, and North Dome came to be. I am struck by how lifeless these names actually are, and I wish we could see their names changed to reflect the very interesting stories of their origins.

We have stories too of the formation of how these rocks came to be. They involve the formation of granitic magma deep in the hellish regions of the Earth's crust, the intrusion and cooling of the granite, the uplift and erosion of the rocks by rivers and glaciers, and the shaping of the rocks by the working of jointing, exfoliation, ice, and mass wasting. It's a good story, based on careful observations, but the ancient legends? They were based on careful observations as well. The Native Americans maybe didn't have the technology we have today, but they did a pretty good job of describing the phenomena, and designing models to explain their observations. 
 
This version of the Half Dome story is from The Lore and the Lure of The Yosemite by Herbert Earl Wilson, published in 1922. Another legend of Half Dome involves an argument between a husband and wife, with thrown baskets and other unpleasantness. I like the story above better!

If These Cliffs Could Talk: A Sentinel People Sometimes Miss in Yosemite

If you saw this picture out of context, perhaps in the opening frames of an adventure movie, you might think of this cliff as being an otherworldly precipice full of allure and mystery. Maybe dragons perch on its summit, maybe buried treasure lies in a cave at its base. It's an incredible rock tower.

To back up and look at this cloud filled world from a distance takes away none of the mystery. Here is a spectacularly deep gorge with dark forested slopes and vertical rock cliffs. What kind of place is this? Who's been keeping it such a secret? Shouldn't it be a national park or something?

Well, actually it is, and upwards of four million people look at this cliff tower every year. They just don't quite see it as it gets lost in the multitudes of other more iconic cliffs like Half Dome, El Capitan, and Cathedral Rocks. Half Dome would be in the picture above were it not for the clouds.

We are looking at Sentinel Rock, and it is the hard-to-see tower in the dead center of the picture below. Can you see how easy it is to lose it in the grandeur of the cliffs that surround it on all sides? I was taking advantage of the cloud cover to get a photo from Tunnel View that highlights the cliff.

How could you miss it? It's in the dead center of the photograph! (May 2014)

Sentinel Rock is composed of the Sentinel Granodiorite, which was intruded about 95 million years ago, making it one of the younger intrusive rocks exposed in Yosemite Valley.It is a gray colored rock composed mostly of plagioclase feldspar with lesser amounts of orthoclase feldspar and quartz. The black specks in the rock are biotite mica and hornblende.

As pointed out in the previous posts of this short series on the cliffs of Yosemite Valley, joints are vertical or nearly vertical fractures that can result from stresses on the rock at shallow depths in the crust. Rocks like the Half Dome granodiorite and El Capitan granite are sparsely jointed and stand as bold cliffs that stand out from the valley walls. The Sentinel granodiorite is somewhat more jointed, so it stands more as a tower than a large cliff. It is surrounded by spires and fissures, including the Taft Fissures that can be accessed by trail above the rim of the valley.

Sentinel Rock soars 3,000 feet above the valley floor with an elevation of 7,038 ft (2,165 m). It is a popular climbing challenge. No trails reach the summit, but the Four-Mile Trail to Glacier Point winds across the slopes below. There is a separate peak called Sentinel Dome behind the rim above Sentinel Rock that is a popular hiking destination.

Sentinel stands out in the boldest relief when viewed from Cook Meadow where most everyone stares at Yosemite Falls directly across the canyon. If you are ever lucky enough to visit Yosemite and are standing in awe below the falls, don't forget to look behind you!

There are several other pullouts on the valley loop road that offer good viewpoints, especially with the Merced River in the foreground. If you've been up the Four-Mile Trail or the trail to Yosemite Falls, I'd love to see some of your pictures! I hate to say it, but I've been halfway up the falls trail, snapping pictures right and left, but I didn't get a single shot of Sentinel. Half Dome, yes. Yosemite Falls, upper, middle and lower, yes, selfies, yes, but no Sentinel. It hides in plain sight.

A wonderful rock!