Journey's Big and Bigger
Fall Adventures to Yosemite and the Atlantic Seaboard
Some places are unlike any other; Yosemite is one of those places.
The day I turned twenty-one, I left home on a 34-foot Sloop, heading for Florida, and it changed my life forever. This year, I turned sixty-four and will be taking the same route down the East Coast, leaving from Harwichport, Massachusetts, and docking at Hilton Head ten days later. Forty-three years after taking that first journey, I am fortunate to be able to retake the voyage with my twenty-two-year-old son, Grant, who was named after my great-grandfather, Peter Grant, who left home in Scotland on a sailing ship at the age of twenty-two in 1780 to sail to Nova Scotia. The symmetry is rare and beautiful.
I learned a great deal on my voyage back in 1982, and the country was a much different place in many ways, big and small. What stuck with me the most was a profound respect for the ocean, its immense size, and its capacity to give life. I feel fortunate to be able to spend ten days on the water with my son and pass that love on to him, and I hope one day he will be able to do the same with his son.
As a parent, one of my roles is that of teacher. I always tried to influence my children and grandchildren to appreciate the natural world around them and find their place within it. Raising my family on Cape Cod, it was easy to show them the beauty and wonder of the beaches, bays, and islands that were literally in our backyard. We spent our time walking on the beaches and trails, and enjoyed sailing and growing our own food in the garden. I took them on long bike rides through the winding paths of the cape, criss-crossing bogs and dunes along the way. We hiked the trails from the lower end of the cape in Provincetown to the upper cape at Woods Hole in Falmouth, and we sailed and camped every summer on Martha’s Vineyard with family and friends.
As an artist, I have found no better way to express my love of nature than through my work, honoring it in my words, paintings, photographs, and songs. By doing so, I aim to leave a lasting legacy that inspires others and provides a path for them to follow. Over the years, I have photographed and painted thousands of landscapes and written hundreds of songs that reflect my deep connection to the earth, sea, and sky. It is through this legacy that I hope to help others discover their own connection to her divinity.
After taking the past year to write my book and produce the soundtrack for The Journeyman, I recently took some time to acquaint myself with the natural surroundings in my new backyard here in California. We are blessed to have many natural wonders in our state, and three hours west of us lies Yosemite National Park. I have always been fascinated with the park and the ancient trees that call it home. The sights were breathtaking, and the experience left me with a spiritual resonance. It is hard to describe the feeling when you enter a space you have been thinking about for fifty years for the first time, especially a place like Yosemite.
We entered the park from the west side near Groveland, Hwy 120—a beautiful drive into the foothills of the Sierras. We climbed to 6000 ft along the winding highway that clung to the side of the granite cliffs as you entered the park. As we approached the valley, before the descent, we drove through long, narrow tunnels, half-cylinders, some with finished roofs, others with raw granite still showing the scars of the blasting that had carved the hole in the mountain above. We were staying outside the park, and every day we entered, the experience was the same. I was compelled to stop and stare, and each new angle of the granite cliffs and the majestic waterfalls left me speechless. So, I turned to my camera and canvas, as I often do.
Entering Yosemite from Rt. 120
We stopped at the first overlook, compelled to stare. There it was, Half Dome. It was massive, shining brightly in the equinox sun; it was September 22, the fall equinox, and my sixty-fourth birthday. The top of the boulder was so round and bright, reflecting the sun’s rays like a mirror. The face was a straight drop, 5,000 feet down to the valley floor—the other cliffs around her seemed to kneel at her feet, their bent knees bowed to her majesty. El Capetan kneeling before her grace while the three brothers guarded her with their towering and thrusting peaks. I was like a leaf blowing in the wind, hardly worth notice in another day of their timeless journey.
On the third day in the park, we drove over to Mariposa Grove, an ancient grove of Sequoia trees, the oldest one being over three thousand years old and fondly called the Grizzly Giant. The trees in the grove and the surrounding land have been protected since 1864, marking the first time land had been set aside in the United States specifically for preservation, which ultimately led to the creation of the National Park system. Abraham Lincoln signed the executive order without ever seeing the trees himself. Later, Teddy Roosevelt would camp under the same trees with John Muir, the renowned naturalist, and be convinced of the necessity of protecting places like Yosemite for all time.
One snowy night in 1903, President Theodore Roosevelt and John Muir lay beneath the Grizzly Giant in the Mariposa Grove. Wrapped in blankets on the forest floor, they talked long into the night, but the real power in their conversation wasn’t only words—it was the silence of the trees themselves. Branches that had stood for two thousand years whispered over them, reminding both men that they were brief guests in a cathedral of living giants. By morning, Roosevelt called it one of the most memorable nights of his life, humbled by a truth larger than politics: that in the presence of great trees, the only lasting power is reverence.
While in the park, I took hundreds of videos and photographs, and I managed to complete two paintings during my five-day stay. My photos and paintings convey more about the wonder of my experience than I ever could, so I am sharing them here along with some select videos. If you ever get a chance to visit the park, I highly recommend it. However, I suggest you stay within the park; it allows you to avoid the ninety-minute drive into the park each day and will enable you to welcome the morning in the valley.
Tim Painting at Yosemite 2025
Yosemite Valley during the Fall Equinox 2025 (Tim Cooney)
Yosemite during the Fall Equinox 2025 (Tim Cooney)
El Capitan and The Three Brothers 2025 (Tim Cooney)
The Grizzly Giant Mariposa Grove Yosemite (3000 yrs Old)
Cindy with The Three Sisters
Half Dome - Yosemite National Park
Climbing El Capitan is not for the faint of heart! I was shocked when I heard today, just a week after visiting the park, that a young climber had fallen to his death climbing El Capitan. He was known as the Orange Tent Guy; he was only 23 years old. I photographed him while I was in the park. I remember feeling a sense of dread as I pondered what it would be like to climb the great cliff and dangle there until I was ready to climb again. It is a tragedy, and it’s hard to know why these things happen. We each seek a connection to the valley in our own way, and we can fall under the spell she cast on us. I am compelled to paint her, and other people to climb her, each of us drawn to her majesty and grace.
Half Dome 202
Orange Tent Guy, R.I.P. Yosemite El Capitan Climber 2025
Half Dome Sept 22, 2025 (Tim Cooney)
Mariposa River Yosemite Valley 2025 (Tim Cooney)
I look forward to sharing my memories from my trip along the East Coast next month. Thank you for following my work. If you enjoyed your time here, please share it with a friend.
You can find more of my work, including the soundtrack to The Journeyman, on my website, all streaming services, and social media links
https://www.sunturtlestudio.com
This week’s new release.
