In winter, I was delighted to see, their rough, red bark often is frosted with new-fallen snow, giving the trees a festive air. In February, the roads proved so empty we hiked down the middle of them as if we were on a back-country trail. In the solitude, we could hear falling pine cones plopping onto the snow. On one such hike, we spotted the coyotes singing in the meadow. Summer's eager camera snappers surely would have chased them away.
Evenings are quiet, too.
At the end of a day in the snow, we nursed beers beside a roaring fire at Yosemite Lodge, which is about as lively as things get. One of America's oldest and best-known national parks, Yosemite is about the size of Rhode Island. A rugged mountain wilderness, its many peaks climb as high as 13,000 feet. Only 200 miles of roads penetrate this huge realm, and much of the road system is closed by snow from late fall to early spring. But this is no drawback.