While planning our Yosemite trip, our first goal was a hike to the top of Vernal Fall, on to Nevada Fall, and back by a loop route, a 5.4 mile trip with an elevation gain of 2000 feet, including a quarter-mile-long granite staircase as part of the ascent. It was an ambitious plan, but hundreds do it every year, a friend older than us recommended it as challenging but worthwhile, and we did the strenuous High Cliffs trail in Pinnacles two years ago, a similar distance with an elevation gain of 1300 feet.

Admittedly, after the Pinnacles trail I thought, So worth it, but never again. That was more due to my fear of heights than to exhaustion, though exhausting it was. The worth it part had to do with the condors.

Once we got to Yosemite, between the hot days and late nights at the meteor shower, we kept shortening and delaying our plan. The second day we thought, We’ll go to the top of Vernal Fall and back, though that would have meant taking the granite staircase both directions, but we couldn’t fit in even that much after a late start and some driving time lost to erroneous sign-reading. On our last day we were determined to walk just to the bottom of Vernal Fall, but rangers were turning people back from the full parking area, so we opted for their recommendation, Mirror Lake.

That is to say, Vernal Fall is, for me, the Ste. Chapelle of Yosemite: I keep trying to get there but can’t quite seem to do it.

In the late 1800s, Mirror Lake was described by European-Americans as a clear, perfectly still, gem nestled in a canyon whose dramatic vistas it reflected precisely. Travelers describe visiting it as a profound experience, one leading to deep introspection as well as respect for a formidable example of nature’s grandeur.

Soon enough entrepreneurs widened the trail into a stagecoach road, added a roadhouse, dancehall, and pier, and offered entertainment and boat rides to visitors. I could hardly believe this, yet there were pictures. Today the coach road is a paved bike trail, and the lake is becoming a meadow; most of it you can walk across, some paths not even soggy. Its setting is still stunning, but is no longer reflected in water. It’s also only about one mile from the main camping areas, so there were a fair number of visitors as well as plumbed facilities.

Mirror Lake was not what I expected, which reminded me of the Mona Lisa. Before visiting the Mona Lisa, you imagine drinking in the depths of a sophisticated work by a master craftsman, a work that has enchanted humans almost since its creation. Perhaps you will be inspired to reflect on its history, including years of wandering while an impostor held its spot. Or perhaps you will be unexpectedly moved by some ineffable attribute of the original, even though you (me) are not well-versed in art appreciation.

What happens instead is you wait in line for your turn to stand three feet from a surprisingly small canvas, encased in thick bulletproof glass and a sort of lockbox, for a surprisingly short time before the two guards indicate that it is someone else’s turn.

In both cases, I handled the change of expectations well, embracing the actual experience as both enjoyable and genuine. I am a member of my species and a product of my times.