Hiking to the Diving Board, Yosemite National Park

~ Valley View from the Diving Board ~

Some places make you work for them. The Diving Board in Yosemite is one of those places.

It’s not on the official maps. There’s no sign pointing you the right way. But if you’re willing to string together a mix of maintained trail, faint use paths, a few well-placed cairns, some scrambling, and a healthy dose of type-2 fun, you’ll eventually find yourself standing on one of the most iconic and rarely visited vantage points in the park, with your mind completely blown.

I was camping for a few days at Little Yosemite Valley, and the Diving Board was one of the main goals for the trip. Day one was about reaching camp, day two was spent climbing Half Dome, and day three was for this. I’d never been to the Diving Board before, and it felt like the perfect opportunity to explore a new side of the park.

The route from camp isn’t especially long on paper, just 6.5 miles round trip with a little over 2,000 feet of elevation gain, but with all the route-finding, scrambling, and light bushwhacking, it felt like much more. Starting from Little Yosemite Valley, I followed a mix of trail, granite slabs, and faint use paths marked by scattered cairns. I had done my research but still found myself second-guessing the line more than once. It’s the kind of hike that makes you pause, check your bearings, ask yourself why you’re doing this, and then keep pushing forward, hoping you're still on the right path. By the time I reached the ledge, I was feeling every step of it.

As much as I was chasing a dramatic sunset to match the scale of the scene, the conditions didn’t cooperate. Just as the sun was sinking low and the light could’ve done something magical, a thick band of clouds swallowed it. The drama never quite arrived. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly appreciative that I was able to get here and create an image, and I’m happy with the one I came home with. But I’m an artist, and we always strive for better, for more, for perfection… whatever those mean, if they even exist.

And still, it was worth every step and slip.

Standing on the edge of that cliff, looking down thousands of feet into Yosemite Valley, I felt something I always chase with photography: a sense of scale, solitude, and awe. I want you, the viewer, to feel as if you were standing there with me. I also felt my legs shaking and heart thumping. The light didn’t deliver what I had hoped for, and this image probably won’t end up in my portfolio, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth creating. Not every photo has to be a portfolio piece. Some are worth making just for the memory—for me, and hopefully for the viewer too.

I started the descent just before dark, hoping to avoid getting turned around once the sun went down. But without a real trail, it’s easy to miss the cairns—and I did. For a brief moment, I found myself off-track, in unfamiliar terrain, and losing light fast. Thankfully, I recognized the mistake before it became something worse and got back on the right line. Huge thanks to Gaia GPS on my phone for helping me navigate the “trail.” Still, it was a good reminder that it’s all fun and games when the sun is out, but once it’s dark, every sound is suddenly a threat and every tree becomes a little more ominous. Amazing how quickly our brains revert to cave mode.

By the time I reached camp, I was exhausted but buzzing from the experience. No dramatic light. Just a long, hard-earned hike, a quiet view, and the first step in what I know will become a personal project. As I lay in my tent after washing up in the river, I thought to myself, And this biscuit? Definitely worth the riscuit.

Because I’ll be back. With fresh legs, a little more knowledge of the route, and—hopefully—a little more light.

Thanks, as always, for following along on the adventure.
Andrew

I had to get a picture of me admiring the view.