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Clouds Rest — 3,025 m (9,926 ft) — is a massive granite formation just northeast of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park. From its central location you can admire many of Yosemite’s famous landmarks, including Half Dome, 332 m (1,090 ft) below, the Clark Range, the Cathedral Range and Tenaya Lake.

Clouds Rest was named by members of the Mariposa Battalion during their first visit to Little Yosemite Valley in 1851. As recounted by Lafayette Bunnel, [so named] "because upon our first visit the party exploring the ‘Little Yosemite’ turned back and hastened to camp upon seeing the clouds rapidly settling down to rest upon the mountain, thereby indicating the snow storm that soon followed". Note that the correct spelling does not include an apostrophe. Since 1890 the United States Board on Geographic Names has deprecated the use of possessive apostrophes in geographic names (there are only five exceptions).

It tends to be less crowded than Half Dome, but offer views just as stunning, if not more so if for no other reason that you can actually see Half Dome. During fall and winter, you are likely to have the trail past Little Yosemite Valley to yourself and can enjoy the quiet and solitude. Water is abundantly available while following the Merced river, but becomes scarce after that, save for occasional patches of snow. Plan accordingly.

During the warmer months Clouds Rest can be reached from Tenaya Lake by following a 21 km (13 mi) round trip trail.

When the Tioga Pass road is closed, however, you must start from the Valley floor, passing through Vernal and Nevada falls and Little Yosemite Valley, a 40 km (25 mi) round trip hike. This is a fairly easy hike, if a bit strenuous at time (Mist trail and the last 500 m before reaching the summit). Total elevation gain from the Happy Isles trailhead is 1,794 m (5,886 ft).

Death Valley: the driest place in North America. Less than 50mm (2in) of rain water each year. For now, an ironic bit of trivia.

It’s early. The dawn has not risen yet, but the air is a comfortable 27C (80F).

Silence. Not a bird or insect around. Nothing alive, it seems.

A strange, numinous beauty permeates the landscape. I breathe a primeval essence. Spirits roam the land.

Yesterday I came face to face with a silver fox. He was strolling on the double yellow line, one paw in front of the other. He stopped when I approached, and slowly turned his head towards me. A few slow breaths. He trots off the road.

Stillness and solitude. No signs of life as far as the eye can see.

The lowest point in North America. The air seems heavier.

Last night, pictures of star trails at Zabriskie Point. Vegas, 100 miles away, the atomic glow of its lights perpetually below the horizon.

I secure my 40D on its tripod.

Framing. The ridge of the mountain follows a straight line to the valley. The stars twinkle in the silvery puddle of toxic water.

The water is shallow, barely 1/2 inch, but saturated of poisonous salts and minerals. Badwater, they call it.

Exposure set to 20 minutes. I release the shutter.

I sit cross legged waiting for the camera sensor to capture the faint light. My stomach growls. I stand up and walks toward my pack to grab a snack.

A gust of wind. Plonk.

The camera lies in the water, the tripod toppled by impish elemental forces.

The camera will not capture today the beautiful reflection of the starlight. The camera will never capture another image again, vanquished by a puddle in the middle of the driest place in North America.