Ominous Decoder

A tremendous wind started during the night and by dawn everyone had scattered from camp auspiciously seeking refuge.  Without any hope my party loaded the Jeep and descended the rim toward the fault, committed to check any turn, as every promise is often better than the truth.  As is the case with truth, so it is with the wind; pervasive, invasive & tenacious.

Here is a place easy to find, along a path long stolen from the wild.  Travelled by a removed and indolent population buzzing along seemingly content to remain unaware.  Some will linger here to mark a box on a list, some to claim connection, others, like myself, are knowingly lost.  Back into the storm we drove, past the tenement camps and diorama shelters of a people who believe they understand nature because they have stood near a marquee exclaiming it's power and beauty.  My own people, whose language, I have struggled to learn that we may speak as friends.

I suppose there is a story to be read on this rock.  If you are imaginative and slightly literate in a visual way the rock is no more than a billboard.  Mostly, that is, except for this detail.  Here I feel as though I am a stranger, invasive, this was not meant for me and the spirits on the wind have turned the sky red that I may not feel welcome.
My own language tells of a truth that glows in the stone, screams with the wind.  The spirits of the land demand that we learn to understand now in the face of an uncertain future.

Ten Seconds at Camp

...and so it began, another week in the mountains, another seventeen hours of rain.  Gotta get that campfire  hot!  It's gonna be a few day before the wood dries out.
Gone Camping.
Happy Friday!

Trees Against the Night

Light pollution painted the clouds and I painted the trees.  An arm of the Milky Way cuts the frame.  A pleasant night in the mountains.

When Colours Collide

It was tremendously difficult not titling this one after an old song but, then I couldn't get it out of my head and immediately started hating the song again.  But let's face it, the image isn't about the song, I'm celebrating the phenonemon of colour opposites.  Over here on the Front Range, blue and orange is easy, in the center of the state it's green and purple.  Either combo is magic!

A Clearing Storm in Purple and Yellow

After two hours of duck drowning rain, the temperature lost twenty points, the humidity stayed at 100%, late season Arnica began their wither, and the sun gave a futile last attempt.

Not a Ramada!

Here's my excuse.  My escape.  My little birdhouse, tucked against a tree.  Branches and clouds and stars and mud.  I cannot get any closer to sharing with you, my love of being outside than this image.  Of course, I do a lot of crazy things outside, but being in the mountains, moving slow, watching the sky spin, is what I really need.  Maybe I'll fit some tent time in this weekend, too.  It's a work trip if I have the camera with me, right?

Have a pleasant weekend in your own little birdhouse.

Star Bombers

Trails in the SW sky, the Milky Way (center frame) remains visible above the Hayden Point forest fire. Compiles from seventeen four minute exposures.  These are the same trees and stars from yesterday's image.  Enjoy.

Polaris Encircled

Got it this time.  What you see is the result of 116 minutes broken into 4 minute exposures.  The colours you see in the photo are not typically visible to the naked eye.  Thankfully, however, the camera can see them perfectly!  The warmer the star is the cooler it's colour, so the hotter stars are blue and the cooler stars are red… science is crazy fun sometimes.  Interested in the timelapse?  Well here you go, 6960 seconds compressed to 1!

Faux Nebula

That gaseous nebula in the lower right is actually light pollution from Greely, CO spewing forth into the night  An arm of the Milky Way fights for attention in the background.

Staring Out, Again.

A two day storm blows itself out, revealing Hallett Peak, as seen from the easy, albeit windy, trail around Sprague Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park.  This iconic image can be easily captured by anyone with a camera.  I'm certain that anyone who might come to see it when it hangs in the gallery, might intend to go try for themselves.  I wonder why, though.  As an artist, I am compelled toward the expression of my own peculiar stories and ideas.  But what drives others out into the cold to chase an elusive quarry?  In the six hours I walked around the park chasing my own demons tail, my mind drifted back to the mornings I'd get up hell bent on reaching the top of places like Hallett Peak.  I think it was the post-holing hike with an incredibly heavy pack on my back that dislodged the ancient memory.  Maybe it was the very cold and humid spring morning air and wiping my nose on my gloved thumb.  Felt good to be out and alone, drifting with the low clouds taking pictures of trees being eaten alive by pine beetles, and rivulet streams flowing through troughs in the new snow.  Several months ago I hiked into Dream Lake at 4am for the usual alpenglow photos.  After that I hiked to Emerald Lake at the base of the mountain and climbed to a fantastic napping spot in full sun.  I didn't sleep so much as stare at the craggy face picturing myself somewhere up there lost in a shadow, perhaps staring back, but more likely staring into the distance, yet again.  When, on this snowy morning, the clouds lifted out of the valleys, I slowly walked back to my vehicle, groggy and cold, aging.  Something alerts in the trees and goes quiet, all you hear is wind and brushes of snow.  You've become increasingly aware in the hushed forest, moving toward the daydream, unknowingly lost, alone, and increasingly happy.