Denali Fireweed

From SalatShots.com

It was another beautiful July morning in Denali National Park & Preserve and all 20,320 feet of Mt. McKinley was out in full glory.



The top of the fireweed was in bloom around Reflection Pond indicating that summer was past the midway point but still in full swing. Dragonflies buzzed through the air doing their best to keep the mosquito population in check. Birds flitted about singing their melodious tunes.



Every plant, animal and person appeared to be basking in the richness of the calm and sunny conditions... living for the now.

Morning Glory

From SalatShots.com

It's all about the peak moment, that brief and somewhat elusive period of time when nature unleashes her beauty in an extreme manner. Timing is everything, whether it's planned, or stumbled upon by pure luck. "Morning Glory" is a little of both.

Late February 2003 found me aurora hunting around Denali (Mt. McKinley) when I saw the first near-dawn moonset. The timing had been wrong for a photo opp. The Alaska Range was still in the earth's shadow as the moon, one day away from being full, set prematurely behind the dark peaks. On average, the moon sets 50 minutes later every day, so a quick calculation suggested the next morning held promise for a dynamic play of light. I put away my gear and got a good day's sleep. Tomorrow, I foresaw an opportunity to fulfill my Mission Statement: Be there. Preserve it on film. Share it.

Be There

From a vantage point near Hurricane Gulch Bridge on the Parks Highway I watched the clear northern sky all night long. Mt. McKinley was on my left to the west. As minutes turned to hours there was not even a whiff of an aurora, so I kept myself entertained by watching the big, now full, moon slowly arc its way up and over the sky. Around the wee hours of the morning time began to speed up. The moon was heading down to the west at an angle and the eastern horizon began to lighten. I wanted to align the moonset with Denali, but the angled path of the moon revealed that I was too far north. I fired up the truck and drove southward. The sky transitioned from black to a deep blue. I picked up my pace. Where's the optimal photo location?! Ten miles later the timing was becoming crucial, but a wall of tall spruce trees was impairing my view. Any further and the view would become completely obliterated by a closer set of mountains. I rounded a bend and saw a window in the roadside trees with Denali shining through. Shining?! At 20,320 feet, nearly four miles higher than me, the mountain was experiencing a glorious sunrise. I pulled off the side of the road, scrambled to the roof of my camper with tripod and camera in hand, took a deep breath . . . and began shooting.

Preserve It On Film

The rosy alpenglow was creeping down the sides of the mountain, basking every crevasse and cornice along the way with filtered sunlight. Due to the low angle of the incoming sunlight only the long wavelengths of red and orange, the warm tones, penetrate our atmosphere. High in the sky, the scattered short wavelengths of blue light were reflected in the deep shadows. All the while, the full moon was getting blasted by the full spectrum, which combines to form white light. What a play of sky, mountain and moon light! For those few brief minutes it all balanced out enough to be preserved on film.

Share It

The moon dipped out of sight behind the mountains and the alpenglow gave way to the bright sunshine of a new day. I gave a moment of thanks, and then crawled down from my perch, still feeling lofty as ever. This peak moment involved hours of growing hope, minutes of a spiritual experience, and the timeless afterglow of sharing it. Thanks for taking the time to share this experience with me.

Lady

From SalatShots.com

Mt. Susitna, also known as the Sleeping Lady, lies beneath a backlit evening cloud as the warm glow of a distant sunset illuminates a window into the western sky-as viewed here from the Flattop Overlook above Anchorage around 9 pm on April 14, 2006.  I wonder, throughout history, how many people have found themselves mesmerized by the tranquil beauty of Susitna’s striking profile?    She is the "Lady."

At 4396 feet tall, this landform was overridden and sculpted by glaciers over ten thousand years ago as they traveled down the Susitna Valley (from right to left in this photo).  Somewhat isolated from the rest of the Alaska Range the Lady is a remnant from the erosive power of the Ice Age.  

Legend has it the mountain is a giant, a maiden who fell asleep while waiting for her lover to return from battle

~ The Legend ~

(compiled from the stories of Nancy Lesh and Ann Dixon)

Many millennia ago, a clan of gentle giants inhabited the Great Land, now known as Alaska.  Among the giant people was a beautiful young lady and a handsome young man who fell deeply in love with each other.  Their unbound devotion was so joyous that all the villagers admired them and preparations for marriage were underway.

On the day before the wedding a messenger brought dreadful news that a fierce war-like people from the north were invading the country and destroying everything in their path.  The village gathered in council to decide what to do. Some suggested going north to attack.  The young love-filled man proposed taking gifts to the enemies instead of weapons, showing their interest was in peace and not bloodshed.  By morning the brave volunteers were ready to leave.

The young lady had tears of sadness when her lover came to say good-bye.  He gazed softly into her eyes and whispered, "I shall return soon with news of peace.  Meet me by the slender body of water with two arms."  With one gentle kiss he turned and joined the departing men.

The young woman hurried to the pool of water, known today as the Knik Arm, and began the wait, confident that she would soon be back in her mate's arms.  For many days and nights she busied herself while waiting until finally she grew very weary and laid down to rest. She fell into a deep sleep.

While she slept, tragic news reached the village that their young men's pleas for peace had been in vain and a terrible battle had broken out.  Most of the giant men were killed or captured.  When the village women approached the young lady with the tragic news, they could not bear to disturb her from her peaceful sleep, and left her as she was.  To this day, the sleeping lady lies there dreaming of the moment her beloved will return to her side and peace once again rules the land.

Fireweed Lane

From SalatShots.com

The Fireweed gets its name from being a hardy pioneer plant following devastating forest fires and is essential for regenerating the soil.  The brilliant floral essence has also been known to help regenerate the soul.  I felt that flow of energy when I came across this incredibly vibrant field of fireweed.  It was August and I was out exploring the backroads of the Kenai Peninsula northwest of Homer.

Blooming from bottom-to-top the Common Fireweed is considered a seasonal gauge - when the uppermost blossoms bloom many feel summer is all but over.  During autumn the seedpods burst and, with the help of a fluffy down tail feather, the seeds are distributed by the wind.  They are lofted far and wide looking for targets to take root in and regenerate.

Blue Wonder

From SalatShots.com

You don't go to Denali -

Denali comes to you.

Every time I pay a visit to Denali National Park & Preserve I am reminded of this.  Just being there is not enough; you have to be open to it.  With open eyes, heart and soul sooner or later something special falls into your lap (hopefully!).  On this particular July trip it took about two days to get in tune with the natural rhythms.  The first day my brain was busy filtering and filing the previous week's life input.  And then the mountain came out... and my mind went blank.  Sweet!

It was late afternoon "magic hour" when I planted myself and three tripods at the north end of Wonder Lake.  Mt. McKinley was teasingly poking its head out of the clouds and around midnight the wind died down (much to my-and the mozzies-relief).  Slowly, as things cooled down, the clouds dissipated.  Magic hour extended for hours into the not-so-dark Alaskan summer night as the sky transformed into a wonderfully rich, deep blue color.  Ambient, indirect sunlight shone on the Alaska Range as snow-clad Denali reflected on the misty surface of Wonder Lake.

I had gone to Denali... and "Blue Wonder" had come to me.