John Muir and Yosemite's Tourism

Upon his visit with John Muir in Yosemite, the eminent Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "This valley is the only place that brags about it, and exceeds it" (Yosemite, 8). The Yosemite Valley, covering a mere area of seven square miles, boasts some of the most spectacular natural wonders in the world. From Half Dome at one end, to El Capitan at the other, the many waterfalls, granite rock formations, and unique vistas gives support to the bragging of which Emerson speaks. Much of the bragging can be attributed to Yosemite's oldest friend, the naturalist John Muir. Muir's many wanderings, discoveries, and writings brought well-deserved praise on the beauty of the Yosemite Valley. Muir completely separated himself from the hustle and bustle of the city and totally immersed himself in the beauty of his surroundings in Yosemite. Although as time passed the beauty of the Valley hasn't changed, the enjoyment of it has taken a different shape. No longer can there be total submersion, at least to the extent of Muir's experience, in what Yosemite's nature has to offer. The popularity of the Valley, ironically due in large part to the writings of Muir, has grown immensely, and with this growth in tourism has come commercialism and "social improvement". From his Yosemite experience of the late nineteenth century, John Muir would view the tourism of Yosemite today with anger and repulsion.

The core of John Muir's belief in experiencing nature lies in the words, "Walk away quietly in any direction and taste the freedom of the mountaineer" (Sargent, 32). The individual experience of nature and of life was Muir's focus while in Yosemite. Although the anti-social Muir was alone, he was not lonely. The presence of Nature (which Muir always capitalized) filled his heart and mind as a constant companion. And it was this nature that Muir wanted to become intimately acquainted with. Muir didn't trod the beaten path, he forged his own, going to places within the Valley and without simply to see them and to gain a further knowledge about them through experience alone. Nothing was beyond his reach. He would scale treacherous inclines, come inches from the precipice of thousand-foot drops, or crawl along the narrow ledges that lined the Valley walls simply for the inspirational view, and to gain a deeper appreciation for what it had to offer. One such ledge was what Muir named "Sunnyside Bench"; a ledge five hundred feet above the Valley floor from which Muir spent a number of his winter days. From this place between Yosemite Falls and Indian Canyon, he was able to view the Valley from an elevated position, and in such a location that his view was entirely unique. Muir's disregard for comfort or danger made his outings singularly special, and gave him inspiration to complete some of his greatest writing. As he went out and sought Nature, Muir threw himself headlong into singular events in Nature.

"Nothing can be done well at the speed of forty miles a day," said John Muir, urging people to slow down and savor the wilderness (Sargent, 32). What Nature had to offer Muir was a spiritual shower; the cleansing effect of God present in each and every one of his creations. The cares of the world would drop off "like autumn leaves" and one would come to appreciate the beauty of life. Yosemite was Muir's place of worship, yet no temple made with human hands can compare with Yosemite (Yosemite, 8). Muir had little tolerance for ordinary tourists. Muir lost himself in the splendor of it all. Once, while Muir was on a tour with a more stolid companion, the companion couldn't help but ask why Muir had tears while viewing the Valley from Inspiration Point, the most popular view of the Valley. Muir replied, wondering if the view did not strike him so. The companion said yes, but "I do not wear my heart on my sleeve". Responded Muir, "in the face of such a scene as this it's no time to be thinking of where you wear your heart" (Sargent, 27).

Muir's passion for nature did not stop at the spectacular views afforded by certain points in the Valley, he went further and tried to understand why things were like they were. He made a treacherous trek to the top of the snow cone that formed from the mist at the base of Yosemite Falls to see what it looked like inside; just to gain a technical understanding of this singular event (Sanborn, 120). But to understand Yosemite, Muir could not just view it scientifically, he had to feel it, become a part of it. This was his reason for building the cabin in which he lived over a creek that ran towards the Merced River. He would lift up the floorboards of this little cabin and sit for hours upon end and listen to the running of the water beneath him (Sanborn, 117). The sound of the brook was what he believed Nature was, and Muir rejoiced in what it had to offer. Yet Muir had little tolerance for ordinary tourists. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to see the blank apathy which most people show when they come into contact with the water and the rocks. Muir's love of Nature, not only in the Yosemite Valley but everywhere, were made quite clear in his firm commitment to conservation and preservation. John Muir was convinced of the healing power of Nature, writing, "I think of those thousands needing rest... dying for what those grand old woods can give" (Wilkins, 126).

Yet for the healing power of Nature to work now and forever, Nature had to be maintained. As it was perceived in the late 1800s, Nature was scenery; especially as depicted in the paintings of Albert Bierstadt and the mental images that Muir's writings evoked (Yosemite, 29). In order for this scenery to stay in the same state of beauty as these pictures, something had to be done to protect it. Muir lent his voice and his pen to the preservation of Nature. President Abraham Lincoln had made the Yosemite Valley the first federally protected park in 1864, but the pen of Benjamin Harrison made it a National Park in 1890 (Sargent, 9).

It was Muir's lobbying for conservation that made the whole Yosemite a National Park, for they were the "fingers of the hand" for the Valley (Sanborn, 124). Muir's other conservationist pursuit was the Sierra Club. Begun in 1892, the club's primary purposes were to explore, enjoy and make accessible the mountain regions of the Pacific Coast, as well as to preserve and protect the natural features of the Sierras (Sargent, 28). It was Muir's mission to entice people to look at Nature's loveliness, and make sure that they would respect what was there. This fierce advocacy for the wilderness sometimes led to sharp critiques of society. He was frightened at the thought of what looming commercial interests at the end of the century might do to the Sierras. As Muir himself proclaimed after the turn of the century, "the money changers are in the temple" (Sargent, 126). But, as became abundantly clear in the decades after Muir's death, the people Muir brought to the forests and mountains of California brought the commercialism and "social improvement" Muir campaigned against. The Yosemite of today is a shell of what it was a century ago. Playing host to 4.1 million people per year has taken its toll on the ecological preservation of this great National Park.

On a day as busy as Memorial Day, 20,000 people can cram themselves into the park in 7,000 different automobiles, a rate of one car every five seconds. This congestion of Yosemite and the Valley has left an indelible mark on the park forever. Meadows, riverbanks, and oak woodlands have been severely damaged by long term human uses. The Valley, being the most populated place by far, no longer maintains the purity and untouched beauty it once did. Inundated with thirty miles of roads, well worn trails, scores of buildings, and a steady influx of people, it is a shadow of what it once was, save for the walls of granite that made it John Muir's 'temple'. The pollution caused by so many people also has created an agonizing problem. Sampling stations throughout the park have shown signs of ozone and acid deposition in excess of state and federal standards. The ponderosa pine population has already begun to show signs of ozone poisoning (Mitchell, 77).

Where Nature suffers due to the abundance of people, the people who come to Yosemite seeking Nature may often go back home disappointed. Yosemite has become a place where people go to get away from the nine to five grind of the cities, not where they go to introduce themselves to Nature. Families will load up the recreational vehicle with all of the trappings of an urban life, TV dinners, microwaves, and televisions, and visit Yosemite. They do not got to Yosemite to be in Yosemite; they go to Yosemite to not be at home. It is a vacation from their tiresome lives at work and home, but with all of the same possessions that they need from home to keep them satisfied. The meaning of Nature has significantly decreased since the late nineteenth century when untouched beauty wasn't quite as difficult to find, or enjoy. But John Muir's philosophy of "nothing can be done well at the speed of forty miles a day" is completely irrelevant in today's age. Forty miles can sometimes mean only a half an hour, but people are prone to move at that quickened pace much more today than they were in Muir's time. They do not take the time to enjoy what they have, and what could be taken away before they expect it. Whereas Yosemite has changed as well as the intentions of the people who visit it, the whole idea of touring Nature has expanded as well.

Tourism is one of the most profitable industries throughout the world. People will go to extreme measures to enjoy themselves in a natural setting. Nature tourism as a subset of the tour industry is touring relatively undisturbed natural areas with the specific objective of admiring, studying and enjoying the scenery (Whelan, 92). The lure of Yosemite as a haven for Nature tourists is the combination of the spectacular scenery, amazing geological features, dazzling waterfalls, and the availability of Nature. Unfortunately tourists want to see their version of nature, not degraded landscapes or depleted wildlife populations (Whelan, 93). This presents a paradox for Yosemite. If people keep coming, then the corporations running the park will make money now, but sooner or later the park will get to the point where it is degraded to the point that people will stop coming. And if people stop coming, the corporations will start losing money, and pull out of the park altogether. Yosemite has tried to solve this problem by introducing a twenty-dollar entrance fee for the park for automobiles and ten for cyclists and hikers. This is up from five dollars for cars and free to cyclists and hikers just a year ago. The money raised is meant to go towards the upkeep of the park, hopefully to preserve the beauty of Yosemite for several generations to come (www.nps.gov/yose). If John Muir were alive today to see what nature tourism has turned into in his dear Yosemite, the whole thing would nauseate him.

John Muir was an individualist at heart. He went to Yosemite to remove himself from cities. He spent twenty-four hours in San Francisco upon his arrival in California, and decided he needed to get out of the city at once (Wilkins, 67). Now Yosemite has turned into a small town complete with grocery stores, a liquor store, a police department, a luxury hotel and all of the smaller amenities of a small town. The availability of these services and items draws more and more people in, and increases the total population of the Valley, and the park, as a whole. With more and more people, the regulations become more and more strict. John Muir may not be able to spend the night on Fern Ledge under Yosemite Falls, or go off into the forest all alone for a few days with Nature; more than likely there will be someone else hiking, or he might run into a piece of trash, or see the effects of pollution. Industrial pollution was pretty scarce in Yosemite in 1865, when Muir was one of the first white men ever to visit the park.

It would be difficult for Muir to become the individual that Emerson suggested in his statement, "insist on yourself, never imitate" (Sargent, 18). With so many thousands of people in the park at any given moment, it would be difficult for Muir to be himself at any time. A more regulated, structured park from the Yosemite Muir discovered makes for much less freedom, and much more conformity than Muir would be used to. As much anger that Muir would have at the park itself, he would have much more distaste for the people who came to his 'temple'. In 1870, Muir refused a job as a guide in Yosemite Valley because of the "blasé insensitivity of most sightseer's to Nature's beauty" (Wilkins, 70). Muir's accusation of blasé insensitivity in 1870 could probably be equated to pure apathy today.

The blaring radios, abundance of litter, and basic selfishness that is prevalent in many people today can show the little regard that many have for Nature. People visiting or touring Yosemite would be little different. Muir would see what was the creek where his cabin straddled so he could listen to the rushing water strewn with beer cans and potato chip bags. All of the buildings that were erected far after the sawmill in which he worked ('the finest structure in the Valley') fell down, are simply there to make life easier for the people who come in droves. Muir did not have anything easy. On his week long treks, he often only took bread, tea, and sugar... nothing else (Yosemite, 23). What was once Muir's domain, where he could remove himself from the real world and become one with Nature has suddenly become the real world, where he could become merely one with a thousand others.

One of John Muir's biggest fears for the Sierras and Yosemite was that money would come in and take control. Today the presence of dollars and cents is far too apparent. From the corporate battle over the concessions contracts for the Valley to the outlandish price of twenty dollars to enter the park, Muir's fear of the 'money traders in the temple' has become painfully true. Touring Yosemite has lost much of its innocence, and has become another industry; focused on profit. Although, as one of the sole bright spots for the aghast Muir, the profit made from his natural beauty goes back in to the park in the form of preservation. This is especially important since the flood that struck the Valley on the first of January of this year; a flood that closed the park for the first time in it's 106 year history. The money from the concessions and park fees will both, in part, go to rebuild and repair both natural losses and structural losses. The most ironic element of the tourist aspect today is that Muir himself played an important part in the opening of Yosemite to the public, which led to the parks exploitation by businesses.

In 1909, there was a debate amongst politicians in Washington, D.C. on whether or not to allow horseless carriages' into Yosemite. Muir, an avid walker yet a supporter of automobile associations and their users (yet he disliked the autos themselves), threw his support to the opening of Yosemite's roads to the "wheeled locusts" (Sargent, 43). Acknowledging his words, "Good walkers can go anywhere in there hospitable mountains without artificial ways. But most visitors have to be rolled on wheels...", politicians opened up the roads towards Yosemite for cars and trucks (Sargent, 43). Could Muir have imagined the influx of cars, trailers, and campers that followed his accommodation to the common man? It's unlikely. Had he known, he would have been a staunch opponent of such a measure.

The tourism of John Muir and the tourism of today in Yosemite are two ideological enemies on the broad stage of Nature. However, with the advent of technologies over the last hundred years may have made the life of John Muir impossible to lead in a place as coveted as the Yosemite Valley is. It was Nature that was important to Muir, and it seems that Nature is of much less importance to the casual tourist. Muir said that no synonym for God was as perfect as beauty (Sargent, 23). Today people will say that Nature is beautiful, but often they look for their God in a church, synagogue, or other place of worship. Nature was Muir's God, and he would be crushed to see what's happened to it today.