The late-breaking rays of a winter sunrise begin to trickle down the Cathedral Spires, including the famed Sharkstooth, as gleaming reflections shimmer on the glassy, wind-stripped surface of Sky Pond, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.
My friend and I began in the dark, pushing through ripping gusts of wind and waist deep snowdrifts, and we negotiated a steep, not entirely confidence inspiring scramble around a frozen waterfall to arrive here for sunrise. We were attempting to prepare ourselves for a backpacking trip in Patagonia a month later, and in hindsight I think the daft, pre-dawn ministrations were effective and certainly memorable if not entirely sensible. I recall a particularly stiff gust of wind rolling off the Divide to the west and pushing into me hard enough that I feared my spikes would lose their purchase on the ice.
I hope the tail-end of 2024 is peaceful and prosperous - happy new year to all!
Tags: Cathedral Spires Colorado Colorado Rockies Continental Divide Landscape National Park Rocky Mountain National Park Rocky Mountains Sharkstooth Sky Pond Southern Rockies U.S. National Park Winter clouds dawn high elevation ice ice cracks morning morning light mountains snow snowscape sunrise
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A lone Magnificent Frigatebird creates a tiny black speck against a vast glowing canvas of cloud that is kindled to life by the setting sun, San Pedro, Belize.
Today marks the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, where folks in these climes are wrapped in winter’s darkest robes for the greatest length of time. The day entreats us to think about light and the steady rotation of our planet’s tilted axis around the sun, and perhaps, our place within it all.
Here’s to a beautiful year, and all the light it brought!
Tags: Ambergris Caye Caribbean Caribbean Sea Landscape San Pedro clouds crepuscular crepuscular light evening evening light magic hour ocean panorama sea sunset water
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The rising sun paints streaks of color against a blood orange sky as it elevates over the western edge of the Great Plains near Louisville, Colorado. The title is shamelessly lifted from a Willie Nelson song that somehow never stops rattling around my mind.
Tags: Boulder County Colorado Fall Great Plains Landscape autumn clouds crepuscular crepuscular light dawn high plains magic hour morning morning light plains sunrise Boulder United States
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A Buddhist temple bell called a Bonshō is suspended inside a beautifully roofed structure adorned with autumn color adjacent to the main temple buildings, Nagano Prefecture, Japan.
The first Bonshō appeared in Japan sometime around 600 CE, and these bells were used to summon monks to prayer as well as broadcast the time to villages. The bells are rung by striking from the outside, and the deep sonorous tones carry well over relatively long distances. Evidently, it is possible to hear a large Bonshō over 30 kilometers (roughly 20 miles) away on a clear day. If one looks closely at the photo, one can see the striking beam suspended from the ceiling with chains, and it is this beam that is swung into the bell to sound it. The exact pitch of the bell is tightly controlled with a tolerance of less than a single hertz. Deviations from these strict standards can require the bell be melted down and recast.
Similar bells have been found in China that are several thousand years older than the oldest in Japan. It is thought that the Japanese first acquired them as spoils of war on the Korean Peninsula where there had long been a strong influence of more mainland Chinese culture.
Taking into account the temples, the many hot springs, the surrounding apple orchards, the trails through forests of bamboo and autumn leaves, the hottub-loving monkeys in the nearby mountains, and the delightful and extraordinary cuisine, we found the town of Yudanaka to be inspiring.
Tags: Bonshō Buddhist Fall Japan Nagano Prefecture Yudanaka afternoon afternoon light autumn autumn color autumn leaves bell fall color foliage sun temple Shimotakai District
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2024-09-10, Day 4
The Donjek Glacier carves a sinuous path through jagged peaks from its origins in a remote fastness of ice and stone, Kluane National Park, Yukon. The glacier is born from the largest continuous ice field in North America near the immense massif that contains Mount Logan (19,551 ft; 5,959 m), the highest peak in Canada.
The ice-fields and lofty heights of the tallest mountains are incredibly remote, and to walk there would require navigating upwards of 30 miles on the surface of the Glacier, and then finding a way through trackless, ice-covered, complex networks of mountains for another 30 miles or so. Then, one would have to extricate oneself safely, and the sheer volume of food and equipment required for a self-supported adventure to Mount Logan boggles my simple mind. There is a reason that people who climb it are dropped off by plane or helicopter.
Visiting the toe of the Donjek Glacier on foot is somewhat easier, and there is a network of game trails and very old horse packing paths along the east side of the Donjek River valley that we followed southward from Hoge Creek. Miners swarmed through this area over a hundred years ago, and evidently there was once a bridge across the River that allowed access to the Glacier. The shifting River, with its annual load of flood-borne boulders, eventually dashed whatever dreams the civil engineers of a century ago might have had. There is no longer any evidence of human beings, save for a few old saw cuts made to ease the passage of horses along the game trail.
Without using a helicopter or a plane, I suspect there are few opportunities to find somewhere more remote and wild in North America than this corner of the Kluane Range. Signs of bear and moose were frequent and we spouted ridiculous measures of invented songs to avoid any unpleasant ursine surprises while we pushed through extensive masses of dense willow. Occasionally, breaks in the willow afforded magnificent views across the valley, and we could sense where the Glacier ought to be long before it came into view.
Presently, the snaring tendrils of willow parted into a small clearing, and a vast, mountain-carving river of ice captured all attention and imbued an already dramatic landscape with a sense of wonder. While sitting at a desk at work, commuting, grocery shopping, or walking the dogs, the mind has a way of normalizing and creating routines that slip a veil between the wonder of the world and our perception of it. Here, the golden willows frame an antidote to the mundane - an arresting portal to a primordial possibility.
Tags: Black Spruce Canada Canadian Yukon Donjek Glacier Donjek Route Donjek Valley Dän Shur Fall First Nation Kluane Range Landscape Picea mariana Salix sp. Yukon afternoon afternoon light alpine autumn autumn color autumn leaves backcountry backpacking circular polarizer clouds fall color glacier high country high elevation ice mountains polarizer remote solitude wilderness willow
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