Slugging a pack over my shoulder filled with snowshoes, multiple puffy jackets, two sleeping pads, two sleeping bags, my food, and a few other essential items, I headed into Yosemite’s backcountry for a few solo nights among the snow and granite. The movement was slow, but I dreamed of walking alone to clear my head. Searching for nothing, each step brought greater solace. The air was cold, the days were short, but I wandered without a shirt for the pack load was making me sweat. After a full day of incline, I turned around, only to find a moody, snow-dusted, little Yosemite Valley standing stoic, as it has for thousands of years. For the next few days, this would be my home away from home and the search for nothing was found.

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