Late in the spring of 1982, I took my grandparents to Yosemite, so they could see the Valley again. My grandfather used to tell me stories of how they, my mother, and my uncle would leave the Bay Area and drive for an eternity in the old Hudson (which would always overheat on the big hills), to get there and camp. Keeping the bears away from the bacon was a big issue. So was my grandfather's climb of Half Dome one day (over eight miles each way and 4,800 feet up). This time we made the more modest walk up to the bridge below Vernal Fall. The next afternoon, however, I walked alone to the base of Lower Yosemite Fall and found this composition on the bridge, in what could have passed for a heavy, horizontal rain. The mist blowing down from the fall was far too heavy for me to look through the camera at the subject. The lens would get so wet that it couldn't record the image clearly, even with a rag to dry it. So, for the first time (as with Spring Storm, Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia), I focussed on things which were at the same distance but in the other direction, and prepared the camera while my back was turned to the mist. I attached the viewfinder to the camera and used it to quickly aim the camera. I uncovered the lens just long enough to get one, then another exposure, and quickly carried the tripod and camera off the bridge. By then my backside was completely soaked. The form of the fall was better in this exposure.