Sunday, September 25, 2011

Yellowstone National Park, WY

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

Hot springs empty 4,000 gallons per hour of boiling water into the Snake River
From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

Bison crossing the Yellowstone River
From 2011 Summer Trip

Bison swimming across the deep section of the river...
From 2011 Summer Trip

Bison crossing the road as we wait...
From 2011 Summer Trip

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Signal Mountain Campground, Jackson Lake, Wyoming

Perched 30 feet above the shoreline of a cold Lake Jackson on a recently rain packed sandy bluff at the edge of a pine forest I am awaiting the sunrise and a clear view of the Teton Range across the lake.  It is very still and cold, around 34 degrees and the only sounds are that of the lapping water on the frost nipped rocky shore.  As the sky brightens on the eastern horizon behind me the 1,000's of geese begin to rustle in the reeds 1 mile away on the far shore.  A raucous honking soon ensues with occasional bouts of frantic flapping as small groups jostle about.  Soon the geese's song is joined by a lone loon and then the forlorn bugling of elk in the timber. 

I am fidgeting with the camera with my stiff fingers trying to frame something compelling and waiting for the rose colored light to illuminate the mountains and lake surface.  One half hour before sunrise I take the first exposures then slowly practice some yoga poses as I wait for the scene to evolve.  By seven-thirty I am throughly chilled, the geese have silenced, and the campground noises behind me and through the woods begin to invade my consciousness. Now the full range is illuminated, but the spell is broken.  I pack up my gear and rush back to the warm camper for some hot coffee and breakfast.


Grand Teton Range in morning light

From 2011 Summer Trip

Mount Moran from Oxbow bend - Snake River
From 2011 Summer Trip

Cascade Canyon
From 2011 Summer Trip

Moose family in Cascade Canyon - (taking collections for a bigger lens)
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From 2011 Summer Trip

Hiking in Cascade Canyon - towering walls of the Teton Range above us on each side
From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

Friday, September 23, 2011

September 23 - Sink Canyon Campground - Lander Wyoming

We departed Rocky Mountain National Park after a night of rain and hail camped along the source of the Colorado river on the west side of the park.  Our attempts to spot a moose had failed, but we did see a lot of Elk and enjoyed the wistful airy and somewhat magical sounds of their bugling to one another across the marshy lowland spanning the slow moving waterway.  The morning broke clear and very cold so we determined to find warmer climates and improved weather for our final leg homeward.  Just outside the park is the mountain hamlet of Grand Lake, on the shores of, you guessed it, Grand Lake.  Lots of newish development, but also a few gems found as we seek out internet connectivity to check weather and to look for groceries.  The small country store in the rustic barn like building has the essentials that we need, but we pass on the overpriced bacon ($9.00/package).  A quick stop at the local soft ice cream shop (called Dairy King) nets a wonderful coffee milkshake and news of a used bookstore nearby (named Hoarders).  At the bookstore we find a very helpful book seller willing to take a pile of used books off our hands (a 2 month trip will generate a pile of used books) and in exchange for a very small amount of cash we are provided with a restocking of our on-board library suitable for the trip home. (Basin and Range by John McPhee, Close Range - Wyoming Stories by Annie Proulx, and English Creek by Ivan Doig).   Sufficiently fortified  and reprovisioned, and informed by weather updates from a stop at the visitor center upon exiting the park, we set our sights on northwest Wyoming, and the Grand Teton National Park.  

After a long afternoon's drive we arrive in Lander Wyoming and discover Sink's Canyon State Park, just west of town.  I believe I stayed here over 30 years ago but had no clue at that time of what a jewel the place really was.

Sinks Canyon is so named because of the Middle Po-Po Agie (pronounced Po-Po-shuh), a rushing mountain river that flows out of the the Wind River Mountains and through the deeply gouged and ancient canyon.  Halfway down the canyon (near the campsite in fact), the river abruptly turns a corner into a large limestone cavern, and the crashing water - all of it - disappears (sinks) into fissures and cracks in the back of the cave.  The river runs underground for 1/4 mile before emerging in a crystal clear sandy bottomed pool down the canyon called "The Rise".  From there it continues down the expected watercourse down the canyon.  In "the Rise" there is a year round congestion of very generously sized brown and rainbow trout feasting on the rich cold, upswelling water, all easily viewable from the overlook above.

What's truly amazing is that dye studies have shown that the water takes about 2 hours to travel the 1/4 mile underground, and comes out at a higher volume then it went in.  No fish can make it upriver from the Rise.  Geologists speculate that the water circulates up and down through a series of narrow winding fissures and subterranean pools until it resurfaces.


From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Roocky Mountain National Park

We awake to a crisp 31 degrees and a clear dark sky. The sun has just lightened the horizon but we are eager to get moving and see some higher ground from the trail ridge road. Yesterday's photo efforts yielded a few jewels, so the pressure is off today for capturing sunrise light.

Lie a theatre's colored flood the high peaks are ignited with orange yellow flares and the dark forest below thaws off it's grey night's cloak and color reemerges from it's overnight den.

Perched on a small knoll just after sunrise at the edge of a large meadow that defines Morain Park we watch as a massive bull elk emerges from the timberline with 20 cows in tow into the grassy valley bottom. Last night's frost still lingers on the tips of the dull green meadow plants and as the low angle orange morning light swings over the ridge it lights up the dew like a million waving sparklers.

Suddenly, the big bull has his head down, shoulders hunched and his bugling snorts take on a noticeably menacing tone. The moisture in his breath condenses in a cloud shooting out from his snout like the exhaust from a steam locomotive. Then he charges. Our binoculars scan ahead for the offending party and like a flash, a coyote breaks cover and darts away. Immediately upon seeing the coyote's retreat. the bull relaxes and resumes his shepard duty over the herd. As the bull relaxes, so does the coyote as he resumes hunting for mice and rabbits at a respectable distance from the elk.

If you plan to come:
This time of year large numbers of elk, broken into small groups can be observed easily in this vast meadow,, with good viewing access spots right from the road or from short hikes. The outboard "C" loop in the Morrain Park campsite are located a bit above the meadow with good oversight. Try to reserve one of these.

Mills Lake

From 2011 Summer Trip

Bugling Elk comes down out of the woods

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

Blue Gouse

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

Camp Elk
From 2011 Summer Trip

Ute Indian Grinding rocks in high alpine tundra at 12,000 feet
From 2011 Summer Trip

Never Summer Range
From 2011 Summer Trip

Old homesteading equipment at the headwaters of the Colorado River
From 2011 Summer Trip

Friday, September 16, 2011

September 16 - On to Denver

East of Topeka, the landscape opens in long languid rolls like a calm open sea.   As we travel west, the trees shrink in size and retract from their proximity to the road and the sky vault lifts high supporting the broad canopy of thick clouds covering the heavens.  The smaller neat pocket farms are replaced by sprawling expanses of row crops and grains, and once again we can see from north horizon to south, unobscured except for an occasional grain elevator or church steeple off in the distance. In this openness, even a one hundred car train has no place to hide and we can see from one end to another with no obstructions.  It is not until we are within 100 miles of the Colorado border that the gently rolling plain takes on the more flat, high desert pancake we are more accustomed to further north in Nebraska and along the Rt. 80 corridor.  Flat like a freshly oiled pancake griddle.  Flat like the 4th avenue billiard table. Flat like a fresh pie crust stuck to the bread board.  

All day we have been laboring under an oppressive and seamless, thick matt of featureless clouds, then all at once, as the road begins the long climb to the mile high plateau of desert scrub east of Denver, the sky opens into deep blue, with a parade of widely spaced billowy nimbus clouds marching north between us and the front range.  We are overcome with the openness of it all, after more than a week of rain, and City streets, overarching deciduous trees, dropping sodden foliage from the water logged canopy and humidity stickiness, and twisty roads with a million stop signs, we are back in the BIG, the OPEN, the western states and their grandeur.   

The landscape begins to rise, and swell again after over 300 miles of Kansas flats, and windrows have been planted to deflect the snows and weather which sweeps across the open waist of the country.  Corn and  soy fields have given way to open grasslands, grazed short revealing small mounds of rocks and outcroppings of crumbling ancient seabed. Small groups of cattle, far off in a field, gathered around the water trough, filled by the slowly spinning windmill with fanned arms facing windward.  Another mixed herd, closer to the roadway, with scruffy brown coats and white faces, calfs, nursing mightily from the tolerant cows.  And the sun, once again piercing cleanly through transparent atmosphere, not slowed and dispersed by humid mist beams happily over our shoulders - on our left- first time from this aspect in over a month.  Happily, no billboards mar the scene - making claims, of the tallest pie in America, or the biggest prairie dog in the mid-west, or the cheapest price in town.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Turning south towards New England, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington

Tugboat Rosebud departs Peck's Marina for the river...
From 2011 Summer Trip
Wooden boardwalk near Charlston Lake, Ontario
From 2011 Summer Trip
Picnic Pavilion on the St. Lawrence River near Mary Island
From 2011 Summer Trip
Water Lilly
From 2011 Summer Trip
Final Pumpkin Island Sunset before we depart for points south...
From 2011 Summer Trip
Lake George between rain storms, just south of the Narrows. This lake is 36 miles long and boarder by the broad tree'd slopes of the eastern Adirondack mountains. The northern half of the lake is all wild with many islands and inviting wooded shores.
From 2011 Summer Trip
Dragon Fly
From 2011 Summer Trip
Rainy day in Essex, a historical ship building town in Connecticut, full of early 1700's houses, still in use. Cobblestone lanes lead down to the waterfront.
From 2011 Summer Trip
George Washington Bridge crosses the Hudson River north of New York City
From 2011 Summer Trip
Ben Franklin makes his point at founder's hall in the Constitution Museum in Philadelphia
From 2011 Summer Trip