Well, the Calendar Says It’s Winter!
Returned this past weekend from four days in the interior of Yellowstone searching for evidence of winter. Fortunately, good times with great friends made up for the lack of photo opps and we did have a wonderful morning at West Thumb Geyser Basin, thanks to temperatures which fell below zero and produced images worthy of any Winter Wonderland. But we were all gobsmacked (term borrowed from English friends) at the lack of snow throughout much of YNP, especially in the geyser basins. The cone and area surrounding Old Faithful is mostly free of snow, as is the majority of Geyser Hill. Likewise, Black Sand and Biscuit Basins. There is snow in Hayden Valley but the beautiful cornices near the Grizzly Overlook have not formed this year. And an amazing ice cone at The Falls – but in the usual crappo light. I am working on the record for number of images taken at The Falls in really bad winter light and/or snow. On second thought, I think I am already there. No contest.
The normal winter wildlife also seems to be somewhere else; no snow-crusted bison, no herds blocking the boardwalks at Old Faithful, no elk along the Firehole. There were, however, the predictable bison herd at Mud Volcano (walking up the boardwalk), a sleek and graceful otter at Alum Creek, and a lovely fat beaver at Otter Creek. And a few very fluffy coyotes.
But here’s the thing . . . even when not at its photographic best, Yellowstone still never ceases to delight and amaze and any trip into the interior in winter is both spectacular and surprising. The snow feathers on the trees at Beryl Springs and along the boardwalk by Black Pool at West Thumb were worth the trip all by themselves. Or the ice crystals that had grown between two pieces of grass into a cone shape that looked just like a popsicle. Or the constantly shapeshifting steam in the thermal areas which first hides and then momentarily reveals a perfect snow-laden ghost tree. It’s all perfect.
At least for now. Current summer forecast is for smoke.
The Return of Winter
Like autumn, winter in Greater Yellowstone has been mostly MIA for much of December and January. We had an awesome dump of snow in mid-November (27 inches at the house in Bozeman) but almost nothing since then. And while we always anticipate a January thaw, two weeks of 40 degrees and big winds melted off most of what was still lingering on the ground. Bozeman managed to accumulate enough small snowfalls to keep the ground white, but there has been no snow in Gardiner for weeks. Until last Friday when 5 inches of lovely snow and a return to temperatures in the 20s reminded the calendar that it was indeed winter and not early spring. Not sure about the wildlife, but skiers and photographers alike are rejoicing.
So there has been very little photography for the past few months and instead of being productive in the field, I have spent way too much time in the front of the computer processing and printing. Time spent trolling Flickr was very rewarding in that it turned up both inspiration and tutorials for techniques I have been trying to perfect. Love that Flickr. Look for more abstracts coming soon!
The printing was for a show which is currently hanging in the Lightwriter Gallery space at F11 in Bozeman titled Digital Photographic Alchemy – a variety of subjects processed with varying degrees of HDR and tonemapping techniques. The exhibit will be up through the month of February, so if you’re in Bozeman, stop by and take a look. I put the images into a set on Flickr which is here. And let me know what you think!
Dates for workshops for 2010 are being finalized. Check out the schedule at sandranykerk.com.
Autumn . . . MIA
As 1993 was noted throughout Montana and Wyoming as the year without a summer, 2009 will pass into memory as the year without autumn. Record high temperatures and levels of smoke in September alternated with record lows, and in the end, the leaves throughout Greater Yellowstone were literally frozen to the trees. So here we are, nearing the end of October, and the leaves are still on the trees in colors that range from dull green to duller brown. No yellows, no golds, no glory. Because of the relatively moist summer and the warm temperatures in early September, we were all expecting a banner color year and Yellowstone did manage a bit of show in late September. During the Yellowstone Institute photography course, we did find color along the Clarks Fork; a few cottonwoods in the Lamar were heading in the right direction; the aspens in the Hoodoos actually qualified as brilliant. And then it was over before it really ever began. During the YI class, on the last Tuesday afternoon of September, we were photographing in the Lamar in 82 degrees and incredibly thick smoke which challenged both photography and breathing. The next morning at 9:00 am, we were at Roaring Mountain in a blizzard – and record lows ended any hope of better color next week. I was all set to leave for Zion and fall color this weekend but reports are that the color there is already peaking – at least two weeks early. Moral of the story . . . nature does what nature does and flexibility is the mantra for the month. Next week will find me photographing babies (yes, a human one!), setting up the new computer, and rethinking photography plans between now and Thanksgiving.
24 Hours in Glacier
My trip to Glacier turned out to be much shorter than anticipated. It was windy as I drove through Choteau and Augusta and quite breezy in St. Mary’s when I arrived around 3:30 pm, but nothing prepared me for the gale that was whipping across St. Mary’s Lake and through Rising Sun. I will freely admit to being prone to wind whining once it reaches 15 mph (I really do hate wind), but this was totally over the top. Just walking the 30 feet into my motel room was an ordeal and it only took a few minutes to discover that the reason the carpet was littered with leaves was because of a major gap along the door frame. So after a few minutes of attitude adjustment I put on my best I Am A Real Photographer hat and drove up to Logan Pass. At Siyeh Bend, the wind threatened to blow me off of the road and there were standing waves on St. Mary’s Lake, which made me wish for a video to capture the amazing light and rippling patterns. But then I would probably have had to get out of the car.
The wind continued to grow worse, absolutely howling throughout the night, and after a mostly sleepless night which involved periodically restuffing the towels I had wedged into the door jam, I concluded that a Real Photographer knows when to cut her losses and take a different road. As I stumbled up to the restaurant for coffee, the heavy low clouds which had blown in showed no signs of taking up residence somewhere else anytime soon, convinced me that I definitely needed to be elsewhere. Anywhere as long as the wind wasn’t blowing.
So I persuaded the desk clerk that she needed to cancel my reservations with only a small penalty and then braved the wind and road construction on the Going to the Sun Road across to the west side. Since I was abandoning my plans for the Many Glacier area, I wanted at least to make a pilgrimage to McDonald Creek and pretty rocks. As I rounded the top of Logan Pass, I was completely surprised by the blue sky ahead of me. Suddenly, although very belatedly, it occurred to me that just like living on the east side of Electric Peak, the mountains of Glacier shape geomorphologies that create sharply delineated weather patterns. I proceeded to spend a delightful (and windless) afternoon communing with the McDonald Creek river spirits and I thank the McDonald Creek Muse for the gift of several lovely abstracts, which were exactly what I had hoped for. Sometimes you just get lucky in spite of yourself, and I am appropriately grateful.
And, by the way, just why isn’t McDonald Creek called McDonald River?
Glacier and Back
Made what turned out to be a mad dash to Glacier and back in 24 hours, returning late last night. Even though it wasn’t what I had intended, the drive alone was worth the trip. The landscape between I-15 and Augusta and Choteau and on towards Browning can easily claim the most spectacular sweeping scenery in the country. Even in the harsh afternoon light on the trip north — flat and not a shadow in sight — it was still beautiful. And on the return trip in late evening light, it was heart-wrenchingly breathtaking. Everything below the sky is the color of wheat, whether it is or not. Except for the occasional interruption of alfalfa fields, which are Dayglow green by comparison. All of it, the cows whose distant shapes melt into the waving grasses, the herd of mares and colts who move away from the road as soon as I stop to photograph, the road that undulates with the hills into the horizon, the abandoned cabins and barns, the patterns of the freshly-cut wheat and alfalfa fields, the hawks, the call of a not-yet-departed meadowlark, the silhouettes of the peaks of the Bob Marshall, the clouds, even the wind — are straight out of a casting call for the next feature film entitiled The Mythic West. But here there is no separation of myth and reality . . . it is super forreal . . . and, with the full moon rising in the east, I can confidently state that Montana has never been more high, wide, and handsome than in the light of this mystic timeless moment. Cue the coyotes.
