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Tom Zimberoff
I began with a clarinet, not a camera, studying orchestral music at the University of Southern California. Then photography grabbed me by the eyeballs and wouldn’t let go. I came of age when the photojournalists’ credo was “f/8 and be there.” To be there was to bear witness. I apprenticed in the crucible of magazine assignments when print still ruled the media. Shooting mostly for TIME—and affiliated with the Sygma Photo Agency—I covered breaking stories and people in the news worldwide. I shot commercial jobs, too.
Taking the long way back to San Francisco by car from Las Vegas, I drove through the Sierra Nevada Mountains via the Sonora Pass. This steep and winding way through the High Sierra is every bit as gorgeous as the Tioga Pass, which runs through the far better known Yosemite National Park. And the Sonora Pass is free! No park; no toll. But it is where the U.S. military trains for mountain warfare, particularly in winter.
There are few tourists—hardly any traffic at all because it isn't burdened with the brand equity, if you will, of Half Dome, El Capitan, or Bridalveil Falls. It doesn't suffer the bumper-to-bumper traffic attracted by such iconography and romance associated with Yosemite, popularized by Ansel Adams. I wouldn't expect you'd see many bears stopping to oggle the tourists, either. Or is it the other way around. The only other humans I came across were fly fishers parked off the road, here and there, along the Stanislaus River, its headwaters tumbling down through deep granite canyons from the summit.
I was kind of in a rush to get home, but I couldn't resist the scenery and the quietude. Just past the summit I stopped my Ford F-150, put on my Ansel Adams hat, grabbed my Hassy and a tripod, and indulged my eyeballs for about an hour. These are my results.
