It falls from an overhanging rock, and often the current produced by its own rushing seems to pass beneath the rock, and so checks the whole column, and carries it upward in a wreath of whitest vapour, blending with the true clouds.
When the rainbow plays on it, it too seems to be wafted up, and floats in a jewelled spray, wherein sapphires and diamonds and opals, topaz and emeralds, all mingle their dazzling tints. At other times it rushes down in a shower of fairy-like rockets in what appears to be a perpendicular column 1,000 feet high, and loses itself in a cloud of mist among the tall dark pines which clothe the base of the crag.
A very accurate gentleman has just assured me that it is not literally perpendicular, as, after a leap of 630 feet, it strikes the rock, and then makes a fresh start in a series of almost vertical cascades, which form a dozen streamlets ere they reach the meadows. He adds that the fall is about fifty feet wide at the summit.
The rock-mass over which it falls forms the other great granite portal of the valley, not quite so imposing as its massive neighbour, but far more shapely. In fact, it bears so strong a resemblance to a Gothic building that it is called the Cathedral Rock. It is a cathedral for the giants, being 2,660 feet in height; and two graceful rock-pinnacles attached to the main rock, and known as the Cathedral Spires, are each 500 feet in height.
Beyond these, towers a truly imposing rock-needle, which has been well named The Sentinel. It is an obelisk 1,000 feet in height, rising from the great rock-wall, which forms a pedestal of 2,000 more.
As if to balance these three rock-needles on the right-hand side, there are, on the left, three rounded mountains which the Indians call Pompompasus—that is, the Leaping-Frog Rocks. They rise in steps, forming a triple mountain 3,630 feet high. Tall frogs these, even for California. Imaginative people say the resemblance is unmistakable, and that all the frogs are poised as if in readiness for a spring, with their heads all turned the same way. For my own part, I have a happy knack of not seeing these accidental likenesses, and especially those faces and pictures (generally grotesque) which some most aggravating people are always discovering among the lines and weather-stains on the solemn crags, and which they insist on pointing out to their unfortunate companions. Our coachman seemed to consider this a necessary part of his office, so I assume there must be some people who like it.
Farther up the valley, two gigantic Domes of white granite are built upon the foundation of the great encompassing wall. One stands on each side of the valley. The North Dome is perfect, like the roof of some vast mosque; but the South, or Half Dome, is an extraordinary freak of nature, very puzzling to geologists, as literally half of a stupendous mass of granite has disappeared, leaving no trace of its existence, save a sheer precipitous rock-face, considerably over 4,000 feet in height, from which the corresponding half has evidently broken off, and slipped down into some fearful chasm, which apparently it has been the means of filling up.
Above the Domes, and closing in the upper end of the valley, is a beautiful snow mountain, called Cloud’s Rest, which, seen from afar, is the most attractive point of all, and one which I must certainly visit some day. But meanwhile there are nearer points of infinite interest, the foremost being the waterfall from which the valley takes its name, and which burst suddenly upon our amazed vision when we reached the base of the Sentinel Rock.
It is so indescribably lovely that I altogether despair of conveying any notion of it in words, so shall not try to do so yet a while.
