TEN

Sunrise and Thunderstorms at Artist Point

Morning thunderstorms were rolling in from the west and the sun was getting ready to rise in the pale and clear eastern sky. My alarm had gone off at 4:00 am in our tent. I was camping in Yellowstone with my family and those of two of my brothers visiting from the Midwest. The night before, I had told everyone I was going to get up and go to Artist Point and do some photography if anyone wanted to join me. I had no takers. Quietly as I could, I snuck out of camp and started driving in the dark toward the valley. As is so easy to do in the summer at northern latitude, I had misjudged how quickly the morning comes. As the road emerged from the tall Jackson and Lodgepole pines and into a bison strewn meadow, I saw clearly for the first time what was going on in the sky. Layers of cold front thunderheads were marching from out of the west, and the light from the rising sun would fully hit them as it cleared the horizon. I knew the spot I had scouted would look from the east to the west right over the waterfall and river valley. I also saw how close the timing would be.  I floored it.

Dawn kept getting closer and closer. I pulled into the parking lot under a quickly brightening but still pale sky.  I quickly grabbed my bag and took off down the trail to Artist Point.  I was hiking my butt off to get in position before it was too late. (I later found out I could have drove to within 100 yards of this spot, I just chose the wrong parking place.)  When I finally got there, I was sunk back into the deep shadow of the forrest and fumbled trying to get everything set. I didn't have a flashlight. Then, just as I was finalizing my tripod location and composition, I felt the sky light up as light from the sun, still hidden from me, struck the clouds that were rushing towards me. Then the sky went crazy, I was snapping away like a madman and every time I looked at the LCD on the back of the camera I would do a little dance. But after a few minutes, I just stopped and stared at what was unfolding before me. Nothing, no words, no explanation will ever suffice for describing the scene. It was, truly, a gift. I did come to my senses somewhat and shuttered some more photos, one of which is above. But I almost felt like I had to show reverence for what I was witnessing.

When I opened the files at home, I could see there just isn't any sharpness, the highlights are blown, the detail and color are lacking. I also needed to not have my thumb in the frame on so many shots. I was holding the ND filter I had because I can't afford a holder just yet.  This was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, I was the only one there, and this photo doesn't nearly do the experience justice. It made my momentarily sad. 

That brought up the question, in my mind, of "Why was I there?"   If we are not careful, we can let the non-important things in life crowd out what really matters. I got to witness one of the most glorious displays of natural beauty I imaging has EVER been witnessed on this planet. I am not exaggerating. 

Trying to take a picture of it with a 6mp Canon Rebel with a kit zoom lens and then being disappointed with the results when those images don't fully convey what I experienced is foolish. You don't get to see exactly what I saw. You also don't get to hear what I heard, smell what I smelled, taste or feel or anything else that happened to me that morning. I think that's ok. I got an ok image but that's not necessarily why I was there. On this morning, at this place, at this time, I was there to meet God and He showed me what He is capable of and I am a better person because of it.