In a span of about 3 hours, I am treated once again to an atmospheric range of moisture in the air: fog, mist, rain, hail, but no snow. When I descended Mount Righteous, I stopped for a nap underneath a friendly deodar. Clouds were moving fast but the sky was blue.
30 minutes later, I woke to the sound of thunder and high-tailed it back to camp. The first drops started falling as I kicked off my boots and slipped under the protective fly. It was short-lived but intense, leaving in its wake a washed and sparkling Island Lake at twilight. When the wind subsided, there was an exquisite hush on the surface of Island Lake, allowing landscapes and rockfalls and pine trees and stratus clouds to come into focus. I thought of the reflections as a portal into another dimension, and thought it both worthy and worthwhile to document their transience.
Sometimes I’d wait five minutes or more for the right moment of clarity, which would pass in a few seconds as another breeze stirred the surface.
So then it was dinner, a quick and quiet affair of rehydrated lasagna that just didn’t taste right. I paused mid-way through to snap the moon coming over the Chrystal Mountain ridge.
If this was a video, I’d start with the moon and then zoom out to show the scene in full…with the moon just out of the picture to the extreme right (a shiny white glow in the sky).
An hour later, this amazingly gorgeous day ended beside a fire, dry wood a challenge to find but how fine to have the warmth and light. The last drink of whisky, final mesquite almonds, the Big Dipper hanging vertically with a slight shift of my eyes.
And as if that wasn’t enough, a single shooting comet streaked across the eastern horizon. I’d gotten up to relieve myself in the bushes by the lake, and had a fine view of the whole sky. The moon was bright of course, but the comet insisted on calling attention to itself.