I fell in love one glorious April day on the Mist Trail.

Even though I was in seventh heaven, I still had a healthy fear of the slippery trail that gets its name from the spray of water cascading over Vernal Fall.

Despite repeated urgings from the cause of my heart palpitations, I refused to let her or myself venture out onto the rocks that jutted out below the falls on the Merced River. Yosemite - despite all of its stunning beauty - is still a treacherous place.

It is easy to forget that in an age where we can cross the Sierra in two hours that nature is in control and not us. It wasn’t long ago such a journey could take weeks and was fraught with danger at every turn of a wagon wheel.

I had crossed the high country via Tioga Pass Road in Yosemite on a bicycle four times before I ever ventured into Yosemite Valley. Despite all of its breath-taking beauty I’ve never grown to like the valley.

And it has everything to do with the people. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been on the Mist Trail at least a dozen times. But each time the growing squirrelly behavior of people made me feel less and less safe. The last time was with my grandson Ryan when he was 9. Three times on the steps fashioned from cuts in the rock as spray cooled us, other kids running down the trail bumped into Ryan or me. It wouldn’t take too much to knock someone off balance and to tumble over the edge. It terrified Ryan.

I did not enjoy my one and only hike to the top of Half Dome. The number of people ill-prepared who were blocking the descent and the ascent was mind boggling. Some had smooth bottom sneakers and were having difficulty with their footing. Others were out-of-breath. And a few were horsing around. Still others had started the trip from the valley floor with inadequate water and were showing the effects. Those conditions are something you want to contend with when you are clinging to a cable on the side of a sheer granite unclipping that at points goes up at a 45-degree angle.

I’m not exactly a Chicken Little. I have no problem descending the backside of Tioga Pass astride a 15-pound bicycle at speeds averaging 42 mph hurling toward Lee Vining with a 500-foot-plus drop off on my right. But then again I’m constantly thinking about what to do if something goes wrong, I’m wearing a helmet, and I’m paying close attention to traffic.

I’m not going to lie. I like the thrill of going fast downhill on a bicycle. That said, I have a healthy respect - call it fear - of the potential consequences.

Unfortunately, a small but growing number who visit what is still essentially wilderness don’t have any fear.

It isn’t Disneyland. All of the thrills aren’t in a controlled environment with plenty of help nearby should something go wrong.

I am not among those who believe the number of visitors to Yosemite National Park should be limited. I know I’ve limited my visits to the valley floor because I don’t enjoy the crowds.

The tragedy this past week is an unfortunate reminder of how being in nature can quickly turn deadly.

Rock slides, swift water, and climbing falls kill people in Yosemite. It’s a given.

Respect, though, can greatly reduce the chances of a tragedy.

It is easier to control our actions than that of nature regardless of how many freeways we carve through granite mountains or raging rivers we tame with massive reservoirs.

We forget that way too often in today’s world of high-tech gadgetry and ample leisure time that allows us to view wilderness as a playground whether it is climbing to the top of Mt. Everest or a day excursion along the Mist Trail.