Approaching Mountains

Mountains have a special significance for me. I have always sought them out. Grandeur, majesty, mystery, adventure; all of these have lured me. What is it about seeing this, why this desire to be in, close , on these peaks.

This time we approached from the North; Calgary, Okotoks, Claresholm, Stand Off, Mountain View, Babb, St Mary, Fort Macleod. Interesting names for this wind swept prairie, Indian land, ranch land. Beautiful in its open, stark character. The mountains rose abruptly out of the flatness in this late afternoon. Shrouded in mist and clouds, tops hidden, leaving much to imagination.

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Moods. Assigned by us, nature being indifferent. Notable throughout but more so on sea and in mountains. Here the conditions evoke softness, calm, mystery. Allowing us only partial access, hiding portions, making it even more enticing.

Approaching Mountains photographically is always a challenge. Representing something so large yet providing an intimacy, an understanding of my relationship to the subject is a difficult task. Color is normally the conveyer of emotion. Black and White does better in this situation, distilling the scene to basic elements, reducing distractions, corroborating the mood.

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Water is an integral part of the Mountain landscape. Streams flowing through valleys carrying snow melt from the high peaks. This one we crossed on horseback. A grand vista.

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Glacier formed lakes, deep, crystal clear, cold.

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Rain accompanied this overcast sky. We hiked regardless, closed up in our rain suits on forest trails, meeting a few other intrepid hikers and campers, enjoying what nature had do offer this day.

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Mountains do not come naturally to me. My early years were on flat land, the highest place I knew was the hill behind my Aunt and Uncles home. Seemed quite high and wild at the time, smaller now. Age 20 I set off for California, alone, driving. Proceeding slowly to take in the scenery. I still recall my first glimpse of mountains in the far distance. Beyond my childhood imagining, huge, looming, beckoning. That sweet smell of pine forest wafting on dry cool air with warm sun on my face. The deep greens, granites, blues. Rushing whitewater, boulders, red soil. These were embedded in my consciousness and formed the defining environment of my life, to be sought thereafter.

As with many quests, the goal is often secondary to the journey. So it has been with mountains. The approach through valley and forest, rock field above treeline, back country camp, early morning ascent are the essential elements There is a special feeling on the summit. Exhilaration, joy, but also humility and knowledge that this is sacred. A place to see but not to linger. Not a place for mere humans. I feel this intensely and soon turn to begin descent, fulfilled but in awe.

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I have been blessed with the opportunity to experience many Mountain Landscapes, all individual personalities with treasures and secrets. The glory of the High Sierra in winter, snow camping, cross country skiing, frozen waterfalls. Sangre de Cristo range in the light of late afternoon, ambience of Indo-hispanic New Mexico. Northern Rocky Mountains, newly formed, high, jagged, snow capped. Eddie Josberger and I in the Cascades, pledging to each other to spend every summer there. Appalachian Mountains, Eastern, ancient, verdant, rich with culture and history.

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Moods change slowly now, night falls, skies clear. Tomorrow will be different. Shifting back to color and new emotions.

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Mountains in silhouette at sunset. Bones of the forest bleached at shoreline. Glowing.

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The full, beautiful, direct, clear light of the western mountains. Nothing quite like it. Sharp detail, sharp shadows, intense color. Glacial lake, still and clear, reflecting the mountains and snow patches. A respite on our hike.

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Glaciers visible on the high slopes feeding this pristine lake. Probably not for long though. A wildness it remains, however, thanks to far-sighted members of past generations. I wonder, will we be so wise? Will we protect these sanctuaries?

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An early morning walk brought us to this delightful scene. Mist was slowly leaving the lake, some lingering on the shaded left shore. A gorgeous reflection of green and white and blue in symmetry.

So many wonderful trails to walk, overlooks to pause at, lakes and streams to enjoy. And always, the Mountains.

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Changing locations now. Leaving the Canadian Rockies in an early September snowfall. Returning to an older Mountain Range in Autumn. A range softened by time and weather, richly endowed botanically, blessed by bountiful rain. A range most familiar to me now at this age.

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The light is soft here, ambient. There is a blue haze often present. Ridge line upon ridge line recede into the distance. A broad range, massive in its early years. Autumn colors remain, a little past their prime, back lit by the setting sun. The cool western blue and green and granite are gone now, replaced by warm gold, red, brown, and yellow. A much different feel.

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Intimacy is easy here, so many small groupings present themselves. Ferns and leaves, lichen and moss on rock.

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Rushing streams are everywhere in this environment. Cascading over ancient rock. These mountains are full of life.

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I remember approaching the Blue Ridge Mountains in springtime, arriving from the arid Southwest where spring is mainly wind and dust. Appalachian Spring is so unlike spring anywhere else in its magnificence. Life re-awakening in grand form. Every tree, shrub, flower and grass is resplendent in new growth. Lovely pastels of green, yellow, orange color the hills to rival the brilliance of Autumn. Moisture everywhere; fog, mist, rain, rivulet, stream and river. I could linger here.

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