There Be Trout Fishes Here

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This is the Cache La Poudre river, the one that runs downhill alongside of Hwy 14 in what we locals call the Poudre canyon. Non-locals call it that too as that is its rightfully given name but the locals were calling it that first so we get to say it’s our river and the non-locals just get to visit it. Besides they usually say it funny, like Poo-dray canyon or Pooh-Der canyon, which makes us laugh really hard. We’ll trick them into saying it and then just laugh like idiots when they do. There’s lots of knee-slapping fun in talking to the tourists about the Poudre.

You’ve already seen parts of it in previous posts. Most recently while it was covered with snow and before that when it was filled with sunshine, kind of like this picture which was taken the day after the snowstorm. It’s when it looks like this, all sunlit with the water just the right depth so you can wade out into it and see the bottom, listening to the rocks clunk together under water as you slip and slide over them, that draws the fisher-folk out of their cubicles and homes and jobs so they can sneak up here and do fishing. There’s lots of calling in sick on day like this.

This is a particularly good place to go after those trout. That big wide quiet spot in the river above and below the small rapids are where the real fishermen and I guess fisher girls think they’re going to catch that 3 lb. rainbow or that big brown they saw there last week. Maybe they will maybe they won’t. Those fishes are wily. They’re on to a lot of the tricks those fisher types try and play on them. Sending single salmon eggs down through there on a small hook. There hasn’t been a salmon in this river since Haysoose was a lance corporal and they’re still trying to pull that one on them. Lots of fin slapping when they get together in the evening and talk over the days activities.

No the guys who have the best chance of catching something are those boys who do that fly-fishing. They’re the ones those fish have to watch out for. Those old boys tie their own fly’s that look just like a real bug. They use fly’s they’ve tied with names like English Pheasant tail,  Flashback Scuds wet hare’s ear, Griffiths Gnat, Moto’s Minnows, and Bead Head Flash Zonkers and many more, some with strange names. Besides they look like fishermen. They’ve got fishermen suits on and hats with fly’s stuck all over them and they’re confident. They wear suspenders. You got to be confidant to wear suspenders. They all carry nets to get those caught fish out of the water with, and they do something non fly fishermen don’t. After they go through all that trouble of catching that big trout, they look at it, maybe weigh it with a fancy little scale they carry just for that, and then they let them go. Just like that. They set them back in the river, wait a minute or so to make sure they’re going to be ok, then just set ’em free. Cool, right?

Some times even the fly fishermen don’t catch anything. I’ve seen that happen. They spend the whole day fishing and don’t catch a fish. You’d think they’d be mad, but I’ve seen them at the back of their pickup trucks, tailgates down, maybe a beer sitting there, taking off their gear and looking  back at the river with a little smile on their face. They aren’t mad. They’re just thinking about the next time when they come out and really nail that big fat rainbow that was dozing down at the end of the pool. I’ve heard them talking to their buddies in a quiet kind of way saying things like “You know, he was just lazing down there hardly moving, sweeping his fins back and forth and I landed that wooly worm right in front of him. He sorta looked at it and it was like he was laughing or something. I’ll get him though. Next time.”

A photographer’s day is somewhat like those fishermen’s day. Some days we don’t catch a picture, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll get it tomorrow, or the next time.

Snow In The Canyon

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Wouldn’tcha just know it. Yesterday the sun was shining, it was almost hot with the temps in the mid 60’s and today just a few miles away as the crow flies, if he wasn’t frozen and stuck to his perch, it was cold, windy and the temps were in the low 30’s.

This is the Poudre River canyon where Colorado hwy 14 climbs up along the mountain along side the Cache La Poudre river as it rushes down to the flatlands below. In the background you can see the snow heading this way. It’s not a full-blown storm yet, more of a test or a warning that it’s going to be doing this in earnest before you can say “Maui, I want to go to Maui.”

It’s serious though, the storm that is, look back into that dark, opaque gray way up the canyon. Cars were coming out of that with 3 or 4 inches of snow on them. The elevation right here is between 8 and 9 thousand feet and it’s much higher up there where it is really snowing. What that means is the leaves that are trying so hard to change color are soon going to be lying on the ground and floating down the river and all of these aspen* are going to be standing here with their bare little branches sticking out, nude and defenseless until next spring, which is a long, long way away.

The danger here is that snow at this time of year is usually sticky and heavy with moisture and will cling to those bright golden aspen leaves and cause them to fall off much sooner than they would have without the snow. The leaves are in a weakened state and are barely clinging to their branches now and the slightest little breeze will send them flying off into the great unknown.

What that means for a photographer is that if you want color you better get your keester up there and shoot like you mean it for as long as you can, before the leaves are all gone off the trees and it’s game over. So today bright and early it’s off to the now chilly mountains and getting used to shooting with a heavy down coat, gloves and a thermos of hot tea again. With a little luck the storm will have blown through and left some of the leaves on the trees.

But even though the scene is muted isn’t it one of the most beautiful places in the world? Regardless of the conditions and discomfort it is a real treat to be able to be out there, communing with nature, freezing your hiney off, and seeing some of the most magnificent scenery in the world. Someone has to be taking pictures and saving these views for all to enjoy next summer when we’re all whining about how hot it is. Besides if I wasn’t doing this I might have to get a real job and that would really suck.

* Actually these bright yellow trees are cottonwoods. If you turn around and look across the road you’ll see the aspen standing there. Oh wait, this is a picture and you can’t look over there. You better just come along then and I’ll show you exactly where they are. Hurry up we’re going to miss them. And don’t forget your gloves.

A Tree Grows In Wyoming

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It was early in the morning Saturday when I got the call. I had just sat down to do some serious blog writing when the sound of my ringtone “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” blared through the office thoroughly erasing the story from my mind I had intended to write . As you know this is a song by Iron Butterfly from their 1968 album “Songs My Mother Sang To Me” and I chose it because it is seventeen minutes long which gives me plenty of time to decide if I want to answer it or not.

“This had better be good, dogbreath.” I said into the phone. My caller, a spotter I used periodically to notify me if she found anything interesting was too excited to catch my tone and went on breathlessly. “Boss, I found it! I found the tree that grows in Wyoming.”

“Bull Dimples!” I yelled back at her. “You called me at 4:15 in the morning to feed me crap like this?” She never missed a beat and went on to tell me that as she drove along one of the back roads near the Colorado border there it was. The tree.

For years there have been rumors of a tree actually growing in Wyoming. Thousands have sought it out. Whole fortunes have been lost looking for it. Reputations have been ruined and lives wrecked searching for the tree that grows in Wyoming. And now my spotter says she found it. I was skeptical. It wasn’t until she sent me a grainy out of focus image from her BlackBerry that I began to think may be she had found it. If so I needed to be up there and get proper proof before we announced it to the world. The risk of ridicule was too great to mishandle this. I got what details she could give me, told her we’d talk about compensation if the story proved out and immediately began plans to leave.

For the record there are trees in Wyoming but they’re mainly restricted to the western part of the state and found up on the sides of mountains where they’re difficult to get at unless you’re like, a mountain goat or something. What we’re talking about here are trees on the plains of Wyoming. There aren’t any. And as Wyoming is 740% plains that’s a lot of no trees. The natives living here will tell you that isn’t so but tall bushes are not trees and don’t count. So finding that tree is a really big deal. Just think of the tourist dollars that would add to the state’s coffers. The person that brings this discovery to the world will be the next face on Mt. Rushmore even if that is in South Dakota.

I needed to plan my strategy carefully. I decided the best plan would be to ease up on it, kind of like you do at a single’s bar where there is real danger in spooking it off if your approach is too straight forward. I took the southern route leaving the Institute and heading west on Hwy 14 up the Poudre canyon, following the Cache La Poudre river, passing through the small towns of Spencer heights, Gould, and Walden, where I picked Hwy 40 towards Steamboat Springs and on to Craig, Colorado.

I wanted to immediately drive up Hwy 13 into Wyoming. I felt the excitement building, I was closing in on my quarry and hopefully I would soon approach it. However the Bokeh Maru was somewhat fatigued from the altitude change and needed to rest. Craig was a good place for that. In the morning we would take Hwy 70 in Wyoming and begin our stalk. I hoped beyond hope that no one had tipped the tree off and this would not become another hopeless quest. It was a difficult night for me with our quarry so close. The Bokeh Maru slept like a baby. It was like she wasn’t even aware of the importance of our mission.

The next day, after filling the Bokeh Maru’s tanks, we left and picked up Wyoming Hwy 70 which led us to Hwy 130 where we could almost smell that tree. All we had to do was climb Battle pass, snake down the switchbacks until we overlooked Centennial, Wyoming and then if our spotters directions were correct we’d be on that tree before it could shake its little branches and scamper back to its hiding place. That was not going to happen today. Not on my watch.

As you drop down the long sloping highway above Centennial you can see forever. They call it the Laramie plains and for every mile you can think of, there are long rolling hills covered with golden grass waving in the wind. I was thankful for the wind today, as it seldom blows in Wyoming, to cover the sound of the Bokeh Maru as we crept up over the last hill. Being Labor day and a holiday there were practically no cars on the road. Everyone must have been at labor because we alone on the highway as I cut the engine and coasted up to where the tree had last been reported and there it was. The tree at last. That lone green sentinel in a sea of golden grass. I was stunned to my core. I had found it at last.

I immediately took its picture, in fact I took two in case I lost one and then ran up to it and drove a stake through one of its roots pinning it to the ground. This was done in a humane way using recycled stakes and an OSHA approved hammer. This tree was not going to disappear before I could get my image published and the proper officials notified and begin the process of raking in the dough. The only worry that I had as I triumphantly returned to The Institute was that the wind didn’t blow the stake out of the ground and release the tree. There was little chance of that however, because as I mentioned before, the wind rarely blows in Wyoming and then it’s usually just a gentle little zephyr to cool off a hot day.

I couldn’t wait, I had to show you my loyal readers, the picture of the only tree in Wyoming before you saw it on CNN. My meeting with all the most important officials of the State of Wyoming is set for this Thursday and I’ve told them to bring their checkbooks. Now if I can just get an up to date weather report to make sure it’s going to be a calm sunny day I’ll be able  to sleep tonight. I can’t wait to be rich.

Westbound

Westbound6538Pelicans Cache La Poudre river            click to enlarge

Many times an image is more about feeling than detail. Such is the case with this picture of a squadron of pelicans heading west to the nights roosting on the Cache La Poudre river or one of the many small ponds and lakes in the area.

The sun is rapidly setting turning the sky a golden-yellow and the silhouette of the birds leaving the frame gives you a sense of days end. These guys are just passing through our area on their way north to places like Yellowstone in Wyoming, and Montana, Idaho, Utah and the great salt lake and other areas you wouldn’t think had pelicans but do.

Usually you’ll see these birds gliding along effortlessly, saving their energy for the long trip ahead but tonight the air is still and they have to do a lot of wing flapping to get where they’re going. In the morning when the sun rises and heats things up they’ll be rested, probably have a belly full of fish, then they will spiral up on a thermal until they’re the barest little black specks in the sky, then head off towards the north in a long slow glide, eating up the miles, their inner compasses pointing them towards journeys end until they are out of sight.

They’re silent fliers and will often coast pass you without notice. Tonight the atmosphere was so still though you could hear the air passing through their wingtips as they worked to get to the evening’s resting place. They had descended from a place up high where it was still partially day and were acclimating to the sudden darkness. The river would still be lit up with the sun’s reflection, a beacon of gold shining through the evening ‘s darkness, the last of the suns rays guiding them in so it will be a safe landing and still leave time for dinner.

Travel is over for today but tomorrow they start again until they reach their destination. Tonight they’re just a silhouette against the glow of the sky, a moment in time remaining in our memory until the image fades. But for now while the image is strong everything is golden.

After The Storm

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We’ve been getting these snow storms every week or so and one of the perks of living in Colorado is that as soon as they’re over they agreeably begin to melt away and return our landscape to its regular appearance.

This storm came in Saturday night wreaking havoc with the highways, causing white outs and icy conditions and generally making one glad they were inside by the fire eating large plates of spaghetti.

The next day however, true to form, the storm broke, the sun came out and soon it was so beautiful even the most die-hard slug had to go out and work off those plates of spaghetti. Slogging through the snow with a ton of camera gear will help with that.

This is a panoramic* view of the North fork of the Cache la Poudre river drainage area as the storm clouds begin to drift East with plans to visit our Midwest friends. Sorry about that folks. We tried to siphon off as much snow as we could before sending them your direction.

As winter winds down and we get these spring snow storms they are usually pretty intense. Lots of weather drama while they’re happening but the aftermath is gorgeous especially knowing that the sun will be out tomorrow and as pretty as it is, it will be gone in a day or so. I like to think that these are our Camelot snows.

* This image is made up of 16 pictures carefully stitched together by the elves in Photoshop for your viewing pleasure. We do this because if we used a wide angle lens the image would be like looking into the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. Everything would be very small but there’d be lots of it. This is better.