Landscapes

Perched in the Clouds

It was an atmospheric day when I went about on the numerous ferries that plied between a trifecta of villages in Lago Como, a jewel of a lake set amidst the foothills of the Italian Alps. Being part of the trans-alpine route, the shorelines have been dotted with human civilization for generations. Villages with cobblestone streets and red-tile roofed slopes surrounding ancient chapels have now transpired to quaint tourist towns replete with restaurants faring local cuisines and souvenirs selling the ubiquitous magnets of this region, promising imagery quite unlike what I was witnessing.

The pristine blues that is the highlight of this lake was now a murky grey: brooding grey waters under a dull grey sky. The beauty of this lake, while dulled, was still spectacular. For from behind these quaint villages rose steep cliffs rising up to the grey clouds. Fog drifted in and about, smothering the chalky white limestone cliffs. A lonely chapel appeared in a clearing, clinging to the cliffs, an odd sight amidst the rugged and dramatic terrain. I watched this as the ferry slowly drifted away, the scene slowly fading to nothingness as the fog moved in once again.

Menaggio
Lombardy Italy

 

 

Victims of Fire

I certainly don't remember it being this terrible, not to the point where sunlight struggled to get through; not to the point where the air was smoky enough to hinder outside activities, not to the point where the indomitable Rainier, visible even though it was over a 100mi away, could only be observed from its base. While the conjuncture of unlucky weather conditions caused the smoke from fires all over the western North America to accumulate here, the underlying cause - the deluge of wildfires burning through such a large swath of dry forested land is perhaps to blame. And that is not unusual.

With the North American continent becoming dryer and warmer, such events would be more probably, and more intense when they do occur. Only time will tell if humanity takes the right decisions with long-term vision in mind. Perhaps vistas of Mt Rainier, like the one above, will then become more common.

Mt Rainer National Park
WA USA

Mystic mornings in the Pacific Northwest

It was eerily silent on the trail. The dense forest seemed to wrap around ever so closer with every step. The rustle of the wind stopped, the chirp of the bird silenced, and the faint early morning light dimmed. An odd feeling sunk down my spine, sending shivers down every muscle in my body. I wanted to turn back on that pre-dawn hike up Rattlesnake ledge, but the pursuit of photography persevered, and I endured that momentary lapse of rational thoughts. Hauling all of my camera gear, I continued onward, gingerly stepping over the unruly trail in the wee hours of the morning.

And I was glad I did, for the landscape I encountered was like nothing else. Smoke from the forest fires hung low and dark in the valley, while the clouds above were starting to turn yellow, heralding the rising sun. And like clockwork, it crested a distant ridge, a bright glowing ball of orange still suffering from the particulates in the air. The deep blues of the valleys transformed to warmer tones, while the rising mist from the lake below were set aglow by the morning light. And all around, the signs of life were slowly emerging: chimneys on the log cabins below emitting, the birds in the forests around chirping, and sounds of hikers on the trail rising.

Here is one such image of an anonymous hiker enjoying this serene vista.

Rattlesnake Mountain Scenic Area
WA USA

Morning in the Mountains

It had been a miserable evening. The wind never stopped howling. The rain never stopped beating. The thunder never died. The cold penetrated to my bones. And the thin atmosphere at this high altitude left me bereft of sleep. And it was just the first night of my 7-day solo trek into the heart of the Sierra Nevada

By morning, it seems as though the skies above had forgotten the ferment of last night. Foreboding grey clouds were replaced with puffy whites taking on the golden orange from the rising sun. The winds had been swept away, leaving behind an alpine stillness. The thunder had been replaced with the sweet chirps of mountain birds.

I can never forget that serene sunrise where I had sat there by a tarn, reminiscing what I had been through, and the transformation of both the outside weather and rejuvenation of my inner spirits. This calm mountain morning and the glow of the sun were a kindle to my flustered mind. I was now ready for the next six days.

Kings Canyon National Park
CA USA

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The Village Life

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The bus took it's own sweet time, winding through and around the forested mountain ranges in the eastern part of Honshu island. Through the wide windows, the life and landscape of rural Japan sped by: snow-capped peaks waiting for the summer sun with glacial blue waters heading down from them, terraced farms in every available piece of arable land in the valleys below, and bright green buds of the deciduous woodlands standing side by side with the evergreen conifers in the hills above. And in-between were tiny farmhouses with the vestiges of cherry blossoms, the perfect epitome of village life in Japan.

My destination was the village of Shirakawa-go, an old village in the Gifu Prefecture of Japan, that was so set back in time that it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site, partily due to the unique farmhouse style called the gassho-zukuri. And while the day, with gentle spring sun and mild temperatures, was perfect for visiting a place like this, it also drew in a thousand other tourists who all had the very same idea. I wandered through the village, transported back to a simpler era of feudal farming and sericulture. And were it not for the contrivances of modern civilization, I most certainly would have been. To be fair, that is the main draw of this picturesque village set amidst snow-capped peaks.

Here is a sampling of that beautiful timeless village, replete with cherry blossoms and modern selfie-stick carrying tourists...

Shirakawa-go
Gifu Prefecture, Japan

A land of contrasts

I looked up at the trail, now climbing steeply through a dense undergrowth. It wasn't supposed to be a very long hike, a paltry 3/4 of a mile. But it was tiring. The cloudless afternoon sky had left me hot and dry, and shade of the undergowth provided little respite against the afternoon heat.

It had been a long day, driving from the desert sand dunes of central Colorado, across the continental divide, to the crumpled geology of western Colorado, with over 5 hrs of sinuous highways surpassing 10000ft and grand views of the spine of the country. While the scenery was breath-taking, the thin air was taking my breath away. And by the time I had started my hike at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, my body was already shutting down.

The summit of the ridge beckoned, and I mustered every bit of energy to pull myself up the trail. And I was glad I did, for this was when the grand views of the Montrose basin and the San Juan mountains beyond.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park
CO USA

Standing Guard

It was unmistakeable: the characteristic lines formed by boulders being dragged against their will on the hard strata below me. The glacier must have most-certainly flown over this outcropping years ago. And I looked around for more pieces of evidence, the glacial moraine, the barren scree, the U-shaped valley, and it was clear that the tiny Wedgemount glacier has most certainly retreated atleast a mile in the last century.

I turned around, and the vast glacial basin stretched in front of me, dominated by the teal blue Wedgemount lake. Once upon a time, the glacier must have lapped its shores, but all that remains now is the dry rocky moraine left behind by the glacier on its retreat upslope. The line between the vegetation-less slippery scree and the green treeline that extended a mile along the lake traced the original highline of the glacier. Now it is but a shadow of its former self.

Wedgemount glacier still survives, and still remains one of the more easily accessible glaciers of southern Vancouver, but at it's current pace of retreat thanks to global warming, not for long; it's dying embers will tell a story of its glorious past in the glorious mountains of the coastal range, and preserved only in memories and in photographs.

A lone inuksuk stood guard that day over the basin, possibly erected as a memory of Wedgemount's storied history.

Garibaldi Provincial Park
BC Canada

 

Rain and Sun

A sunny and desolate beach. A barren coast with muddy waters. The cold rush of the ocean breeze. Sparse farmsteads dotting the treeless plains around. A distant angry thunderstorm rushing to dump water.

I don't know what attracted my friend and I turn turn our car down the rocky road to this beach. Perhaps it was last spit of land before the frigid Arctic. Perhaps it was the confluence of a vast glacial-carved river valley with the windswept beach. Perhaps it was the only bit of sunlight surrounded by choppy weather.

The Kia struggled to navigate the maze of boulders before it finally gave up. I stood and looked out, gazing forlorn at the vast emptiness of the landscape around. The ominous clouds were primed to dump rain, leaving us but a few minutes to soak in the last bit of light. In the distance, a small clearing lit up a portion of the dark hillside. Whether it was rain or sun, I don't remember.

I was a few photos in, when the breeze became colder, and the first drops made their appearance. I ambled to the car, already turned around by my friend. We waved goodbye to the lonely land.

There was nothing else around, save the car and the open road. Adventures await.

Garossandur
Iceland

 

Rocky Palette

The flowers swayed with the soothing evening breeze blowing up the ridge. It was a welcome respite on that hot dry afternoon atop a ridge in a remote corner of Oregon. But the heat didn't matter, for the landscape was enchanting: an undulating hillscape made special by the multi-colored layers of various metals exposed in the eroding landscape. Spots and lines of black, red, brown and pink made their appearance at various levels along the multitude of ridges. And even after spending an entire day capturing different perspectives of this unique geology, I never got tired of this captivating landscape.

The Painted Hills region of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument is one of the few places were nature's palette is as visible as it is here. And with the late spring wildflowers adding to the kaleidoscope of color that is this region, it was quite a memorable trip to this unique region.

Painted Hills
OR USA

Dwarfed in Iceland

It is easy to get dwarfed in Iceland. Standing on a hilltop on a clear day, panoramic vistas of a tumultuous yet fragile treeless terrain, with creeks and rivers cutting their way from snow-capped volcanic peaks and massive glaciers, can certainly make one inspired by the raw power of the planet's geological forces in action. And vistas like this abound in this amazing country.

Driving along a remote dirt track in the remote Snaefellsness peninsula, my buddy and I chanced upon a trailhead, complete with a steel bridge to cross the creek. With curiousity rising in both of us, we climbed up higher and higher, until the entirety of the Snaefellsjokull glacier stratovolcano came into view. And all around, remnants of its active volcanic past laid bare on the undulating terrain.

It was a sight to remember, especially given the ideal conditions to hike in that are so rare in this beautiful country.

Snaefellsness
Iceland