Sunrise

As I breathe in the crisp morning air, the rest of the world remains asleep, at least for another hour or two. The sky is beginning to lighten, but through a canopy of twinkling lights from other worlds millions of light years away. The only sounds I hear are the ones I am awkwardly making as I set up my camera for a sunrise picture. The trees are still, cradled in the protective blankets of white and a soft mist is rising from the earth. Time seems to stand still but this place is breathing as heavily as I am. The soft tracks of an elk are right in front of me heading into Moraine Park, in the valley below. I follow the tracks with my eye and they lead me first to a deep orange Ponderosa, then back into a cluster of aspen before heading off towards the river. The wanderings of the elk distract me from the bitter cold, my breathe now taking its time to dissipate amongst the trees. A soft alpenglow arrives and I prepare my camera in anticipation of the sunrise. It is now much lighter and the twinkling canopy has vanished. Slowly the sun rises between the trees and a sudden gust of wind turns the forest undergrowth to a collidoscope of white. I try snapping a picture and my camera battery dies. Rather than take the 5 minute walk back to the car, I continue to watch the wind rain snow down all around me, as the sun rises and heats up the Earth. The sun slowly rises through the canopy of trees, bringing with it much needed warmth. I stayed with my mounted camera for 2 hours, until the first early hikers of the day could be heard driving to the Bear Lake parking lot. On my drive back to Cascade Cottages to make some breakfast, I came to the realization that that was one of the best photographs I have ever taken. In the silence of that early October morning, a thousand windows were opened. The landscape danced in its morning ritual of darkness to light and a new day was born. And I could just be. Look, listen, breathe and be. They’ll be time for pictures.