A Hike for my Mother

The Canadian Rockies. My father was drawn to the monolithic mountains between British Columbia and Alberta. Every few years, he'd pack up his "4 girls" and head north in search of photos & wolverines. My mother's searches in the Rockies were far more simplistic. She really only wanted 3 things to make her vacation a true vacation from all the cleaning & cooking.

A day fishing without her squabbling daughters, an amazing blue tartan skirt, and a hike to one of the teahouses near Lake Louise.

Dad was able to give her the day of fishing, at least one a trip. The skirt she saved for months to buy. But the trip to the teahouse was made.

So on a recent trip to the Canadian Rockies in pursuit of my own photos, I decided to make a trip for my mother to not just one teahouse, but both of them. The trails interconnect to make a wonderful trip through forest, past lakes, over glacial moraines and views of mountains close enough to touch.

The Lake Agnes teahouse is perched on a ridge overlooking both Lake Agnes' turquoise blue waters and the views down the Bow Valley. I could almost feel my mother as I climbed the last of the steps and hear her gasp at the beauty unfolding before me - golden larches reflected in the smooth lake surface, mountain peaks towering into the sky all around. Tears flowed as I took several images of the lake and reflections, knowing mom would have been sitting on the porch with her cup of tea an murder mystery, patiently waiting.

After composing myself, I hiked around the lake and over the Beehive to catch the trail to the Plain of Six Glaciers and the teahouse there.

By now the afternoon sun was beating down on me and I knew mom would have been struggling against the heat as I was. But I continued on, looking forward to the cup of tea I would have for my mother and maybe a treat? The trail was dusty and the meadow dry as I entered the courtyard, an assemblage of natural pavers leading the way to the two-story structure.

Sitting on the balcony, I chose the ice wine tea. Not something my mother would have chosen, but she would have appreciated the novelty. And perusing the menu, a Gluten Free brownie? Oh yes, I would get a treat as well. The waitress brought out my tea cup, a lovely little porcelain type cup with pansies. Mom loved pansies. I felt her smile and her hug as I sipped my tea and watched the afternoon slip by.

Fear Doesn't Live Here

I have this fantasy of myself. I like to pull it out once in a while and play with the fantasy, but really the reality of chasing my fantasy frightens me. I like to think sometimes that I am a mountain climber, scrambling up rock and ice to stand on a great pinnacle of the earth. I will view imaginary images of myself in glacier glasses and parka, skin weathered by the elements smiling for the camera. But I have this slight fear of stumbling and falling to my death or a rock slipping from under me and I fall to my death.

It's a fear that sometimes stops me from going further up the mountain.

It's a fear that keeps me from standing on a pinnacle, smiling for the camera.

Several years ago, I decided to do something that frightened me every year. Generally "the event" takes place on near my birthday. Several years ago I crossed a crevasse on my way to spend the night at Muir Camp on Mt Rainier. The next year I scrambled up loose dinner-plate sized shale to a view, just short of the top, of the Goat Rocks Wilderness. After that, my non-competitive self decided to run my 1st triathlon.

Through all I realized my fears were nothing to be afraid of.

Then I found myself hiking up to Tooth Saddle on my way to scramble Bean Peak. The final scramble was an option. I didn't have to go and thought that I wouldn't. I even voiced that I might just stop at the saddle. I'd have great views.

But then something inside me said why not?

Each step, each climb got me closer to the top. I stopped once & thought "I still have to come down this." A fleeting thought that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Then it was one last wedge of the foot into a crack, one last handhold, one last movement - my arms, legs and body moving in unison to gain the summit.

The summit. I stood on a pinnacle of the earth enjoying the view, but oops, forgot the picture. Did get a pic of Trail Turtle though.

Winning isn't Everything.

I love this image - it is one of my favorites, where all things came together to make beauty. I was on a backpack a couple of years ago with friends. We had set up camp in the Goat Rocks Wilderness of Washington, near the PCT and spent the early evening meandering the trails through the flower-filled meadows as the light faded around us. I had been hoping to get a low shot of flowers in foreground of a landscape with Mt Adams and as we explored, I noted a few nice clumps of Western Pasqueflower alongside the trail. As my friends headed back to camp I stopped at this little patch, but it was too close to the trail to get the image I had in my head . . . there was a ditch on the other side of the trail. Sure enough, lying in the ditch with my tripod made the camera angle low enough to capture the scene. A few hikers passed, at first startled by my seat in the ditch then appreciative of the scene I was capturing.

In the end I took 3 exposures to blend together and knew I had a good image. I entered it into a few photo contests - one a local photo club where it took top honors plus it was selected for their calendar. Another was for a web-based company where I again took top honors and a t-shirt. I also entered it into photo contests sponsored by the Mountaineers and the Washington Trail Association. My amazing image didn't even make the finalists of either contest. I wondered if they even got my submission.

A few months after I submitted the image to WTA, I got a call from a friend congratulating me on my image being published in their magazine. Really? I rushed out to get a copy and sure enough in the table of contents was my image, enticement to read further the article detailing the joys of hiking Pacific Crest Trail. Pretty darn snazzy, I thought. May not have won the photo contest, but this was a win no matter.

Then came the announcement a few months ago for the next Mountaineers Photo Contest. I didn't pay much attention to the announcement as the categories weren't anything I had readily available (ie, don't shoot a lot of). Then I hopped online to look for an outing or two and wait! What was that? That looked like my pic! I flipped back through the images on the main page and yep, that is my image. Title, credit, wow! Can you guess why they were using it? To advertise this year's photo contest! But my image never made the finalists. Wouldn't they want to use the winning image from last year? Nope, they wanted to use mine. Double win!

So for a little ditch-sitting, I got a calendar, a t-shirt, a magazine and advertisement. Yeah, I call that a good thing and my self-esteem takes a happy hit.

Playing by the Rules

The last weekend of June is spent on the border of Idaho and Montana, a special place in the world and US history - Lolo Pass. This is the place where Lewis & Clark crossed the Bitteroot Mountains. Here lie meadows filled with camas, meandering streams between forests of dark green seemingly at the top of the world. My organization sponsors a race on the forest roads behind the visitor center and I look forward to photographing the event every year. This year was no different I was even going to do a little backpacking on the way home, but snow levels on my intended route sent me home early.

So as I drove the Palouse in southeast Washington, I thought why not take my time heading home? Stop take some pictures. Afterall, I do have a new camera and I'm ready to make it pay for itself. I passed one picturesque barn because I needed to find the restroom. Passed another because it came & went before I had a chance to "see" it. Then along a stretch of highway I saw this little beauty. The clouds? Perfect. The greens? Perfect. The barn? Perfect. (Except a friend says it needs to be red - I like the grey.) I quickly pulled over, hopped out with my camera. The composition already in mind.

This scene is perfect for the Rule of Thirds where an image can be separated into a tic-tac-toe grid and the  important compositional elements should be placed along these lines or their intersections. I knew I wanted the cloud-filled sky to dominate, so I placed the horizon line along the lower third of the frame. The face of the barn seemed to be looking left so I put it into the lower right corner so that it would "look" into the frame. I also had to be concerned where the peak of the roof fell - i didn't want it to intersect with the horizon - and wanted it to rise above the horizon to connect the sky & fields.

I only needed to shoot off one or two shots. I knew before I even lifted the camera to my eye that this would be a great image. Previsualize, and follow the rules at least until they need to be broken.

Seeing the Unexpected

I needed to go backpacking and had looked at a trip offered by the mountaineers but it was full with a wait list. The trip, Cape Alava, a favorite early season hike of mine, but I hadn't been on the trail for years. Then a few days before the group left, a spot opened up. I quickly grabbed the spot and was so happy to be getting out on a great weekend. Only one problem surfaced as I was heading to meet my carpool - I forgot my tent. UGH! It wouldn't be the 1st time I slept out under the stars on the beach but as the group pooled our equipment, we were able to come up with a plan that had me sleeping in a tent & not under the stars. Although the stars would be nice.

We started out in cloudy and a little drizzly weather, but we entered the old trees of the forest quickly and were protected from most of the wet. I do like hiking with groups especially when we can chat throughout the hike which makes the miles slip away. In no time we were hearing the waves along the beach and looked through the trees with anticipation. We set up camp in the trees and sat back to watch the tide recede to expose the rocks & tide pools.

Cape Alava is an interesting area of the coast. It's lined by rocks farther out from the beach, protecting the beach and the tide pools from crashing waves. When the tide is out, rocks and great varieties of seaweed are exposed. I can only imagine the forest of seaweed when the tide comes in. An underwater oasis for small fish and sea creatures. This area also lends itself nicely for calm reflections of the off shore sea stacks. But it wasn't reflections I was looking for as I meandered down the beach with my camera - I was looking for that sunset light and color.

And as it often happens along the coast, a bank of clouds rested upon the horizon obscuring the last light of the day. I continued to shoot even without the amazing colors. I have had sunset shoot like this before, no color, no drama yet came out with images I loved. Besides I wasn't ready to go back to camp even with the scent of campfire drifting down the beach.

I wandered out to a little spit of sand quickly being devoured by the incoming tide and saw what I had not seen before. Pastel colors reflected in the still water, a mirror image of the sea stack, the ripples of sand under the water. I was able to get off a couple of quick shot before the tide took over my viewpoint. What I came away with will again be one of my favorite images although not exactly what I was looking for.

Lake 22

Every now and then I have the opportunity to take someone onto a trail and help them gain a new experience and add to their self-confidence. A recent trip to Lake 22 gave me just this opportunity and a somewhat new hiker an experience that left her grinning at the end of the hike.

I warned my hikers on this trip that the last mile or so would be in snow, upwards to 8 feet in some places. But enough people hike this trail even in the snow that I thought it would be quite doable for my hikers. Little did I know, one hiker had no experience in snow. I advised trekking poles and traction devices like Yak-Traks or micro-spikes. I find the poles helpful in keeping my balance and the traction devices in keeping my self confidence. Sometimes I just need a little extra traction to feel comfortable on the snow and advised them for my hikers for this very reason.

As we reached the snow several hike members stopped to put on the traction. I and a few others opted out until we got further along. One hiker, Marie, didn't have traction devices and watched as her team mates prepped for the snow. Once ready, we started off again. The snow was hard-packed and I felt comfortable on it, but I noticed almost immediately Marie was falling behind. I stopped the group and we waited. But Marie continued to fall back and I began to get somewhat concerned. First for Marie, I didn't want her to get discouraged by her slow progress, but I also needed to keep my group moving so as to not get too cold.

I decided to get the rest of the group to the lake, settle them in and give them a few safety ground rules, then went back for Marie & my Tail-End-Charlie. Marie was indeed getting discouraged, but with encouraging words from myself & Jane, bringing up the rear, she plugged on. As we crested the last slope, I stopped Marie & told her to look up so she could see Mt Pilchuck towering through a break in the trees. Her face lit up!

We chatted a bit at lunch when she told me that this was the 2nd time she has ever hiked on the snow. I was so proud of her that she didn't give up and offered up my Yak-Traks since I wouldn't be needing them. She gladly accepted them. I then asked another of my hikers who had hiked with me often and is trusted to lead the group out as I brought up the rear behind Marie. We chatted & laughed until we ran out of snow. Her sense of accomplishment when we got back to the cars was priceless to me.

Daffodils

In April, the Skagit Valley is awash in color as tulips of every shape & color fill the perfectly tilled fields. But I was not here in April, I was here in March when the daffodils filled the valley with a yellow as vibrant as the sun. It was late in the day when my friends & I arrived as we headed to Mt Baker for a weekend of snowshoeing & photography. This side trip seemed like a perfect way to start off the weekend and take a break in our drive.

Late in the day, the sun angled nicely over the daffodil fields highlighting the rows of flowers. And yet in the background off towards the mountains storm clouds turned a dark grey in contrast.This is March in the northwest, bright afternoon light through cloud breaks we call sucker holes while the morning rain clouds push against the mountains dumping heavy spring snow on the slopes. This combination makes for a dramatic composition.

Squatting, I realized I couldn't quite get low enough to make the composition work as I had envisioned. I would have to lay in the mud. I am never opposed to lying down to get the image I see in my head, but now I had to look for an area with the least amount of gooey mud. Finally finding my spot, I angled the camera up to include the dark grey sky against the bright yellow flowers. The flowers seemed to be soaking in the last rays of sun for the day, happy that the storm had passed.