What Was Yosemite's Firefall — and Why Did It End?

Yosemite’s Firefall was a nearly century-long summer tradition in which operators built a massive bonfire of red fir bark on Glacier Point and, at exactly 9 p.m., pushed the glowing embers off the edge on the shouted cue “Let the fire fall!” — creating a cascade of light that appeared to pour like liquid fire 3,200 feet down the granite cliff. National Park Service director George Hartzog ended the tradition on January 25, 1968.

How the Firefall Began

The story starts around 1872 with James McCauley, who owned a trail on Glacier Point. One evening he kicked his campfire coals over the rim as a casual stunt for guests. Tourists in the valley below caught sight of the glowing cascade and wanted more. McCauley, recognizing a revenue opportunity, sent his sons down to collect donations, hauled extra wood up the mountain, and began building bigger fires each night until the Firefall became a paid spectacle.

The tradition passed through several operators over the decades and ran with only a few interruptions — including a brief ban by the Park Service in the early 1900s — until it became an institution deeply woven into the Yosemite summer experience.

How the Firefall Actually Worked

By the mid-twentieth century, the operation was carefully choreographed. Staff on Glacier Point built a bonfire of red fir bark, chosen specifically because it burned into embers that flowed slowly and evenly rather than scattering in the wind. At precisely 9 p.m., a call rose from the valley floor — “Let the fire fall!” — and the operators swept thousands of glowing coals off the 3,200-foot rim.

From the meadows below, the effect was breathtaking: a river of orange and red light sliding down the dark face of the cliff, glowing against the granite for several minutes before fading. Crowds gathered every night to watch, and the Firefall became one of the most recognizable images associated with Yosemite.

Why the Firefall Was Banned

By the 1960s, the spectacle had become a victim of its own success. The nightly crowds swelled to sizes that gridlocked park roads and sent visitors trampling across fragile meadows and riparian areas. The very scenery the Firefall was meant to showcase was being destroyed by the people who came to see it.

On January 25, 1968, Park Service director George Hartzog ordered the Firefall stopped permanently. The decision was part of a broader national shift in park management philosophy — away from theatrical entertainment and toward conservation of natural landscapes. The last fire fell that same night.

Nature’s Own Firefall: Horsetail Fall in February

Nature, it turns out, had been running its own version all along. Every February, for roughly two weeks, the setting sun drops to the precise angle where its rays strike Horsetail Fall — a seasonal waterfall on the eastern edge of El Capitan — almost horizontally. At that angle, blue wavelengths scatter away, and the concentrated orange and red light that remains illuminates the falling water so intensely that it glows like flowing lava against the black granite.

The window lasts only about ten minutes each evening, and only when the sky is clear. Photographers began chasing the phenomenon seriously around 1973, and it has since become one of the most sought-after nature photography shots in North America.

The Same Problem, a Different Era

The irony is sharp: the original Firefall was shut down because the crowds it attracted were destroying the park. Today, the natural Firefall at Horsetail Fall draws photographers and tourists who trample meadows, collapse fragile riverbanks, and congest the same roads that George Hartzog’s decision was meant to protect. One tradition was banned by human decree; the other is governed by orbital geometry. Both exact the same price from the valley floor.