Morning view

A knock on my door at 5:15 woke me from an uneasy slumber on a wooden pallet. As I contemplated the reason for the early wake up I knew I was going to have to give up my warm cocoon for the frigid air. I quickly tumbled out, added another three layers to what I was already wearing, tugged a cap over my head, slipped on my mittens and grabbed my camera. As I stepped outside, despite the wind whipping by, I breathed a small sigh of relief. The sky was clear so we should get good views with the sunrise. I clambered up on a rock, trying to position myself for a good view (and photos without other heads in them). There was just a hint of pink on the tip of Kanchenjunga as the sun began its slow rise. Click, click. It seemed every minute I was taking another photo as the light spread a bit wider highlighting more of the range. Now you can see the upper outline they call the sleeping Buddha. Click. Light has reached the lower peaks. A glimpse off to the east and the sun is starting to appear over the pine trees. Duoa, our guide, directs my attention to the west. As I slide down the rock a bit to get around a tree in my sight, I snatch my first glimpse of Mt. Everest. Proudly poking above the clouds, the sun is just now starting to lighten its face. I can't believe how big it is. A mountain above mountains. Yeah, yeah, you know its the tallest mountain in the world, but until that moment I didn't realize just what that meant. The idea that people actually climb to the top flabbergasts me. It seems to remote, so up there, that I can't quite believe that even at this moment there may be a group of climbers pushing to summit. For me, the view from this point is good enough. Well almost. I go clambering down and walk as fast as I can to the upper hill of this camping town, looking for that one spot that will give me an unspoiled view of both Kanchenjunga and Everest. A view that doesn't have trees marring the way. A view that I will hold in my head as we walk all the way back down to road. 

American snapshot: Grand Teton National Park

If you head out of Yellowstone Park to the south you can't help but drive through Grand Teton National Park, the second national park of our summer trip. You can tell that this park is used to people just driving through and wanting to see a bit of what is on offer. When we stopped to get a bit of information the volunteer was able to give us a driving route, with recommended stops, that would take us a few hours to get through with enough time to actually get out of the car and walk for a bit. The entire time you are in the park the view is dominated by the Teton mountains towering over the landscape. I consistently found myself looking west unable to draw my eyes away from the majestic mountains. We stopped for a picnic lunch along the river where we could soak in their towering heights reflected back by the water. Father along we stopped for a short walk near some of the recreational areas (in some ways the park reminded me of a state park in terms of its recreational usage than a national park, although there is no denying that its natural landscape deserves national protection) where the obvious views were still enchanting but I also was absorbed by the northern version of bluebonnets and paintbrushes with their taller growth. A later stop took us to the chapel of transfiguration where the view was the entire focal point of the chapel. Why put in stain glass when a clear window will reveal one of God's masterpieces behind the altar? A turn and a head back into the park by a different road led us to Snake River Overlook, a spot where Ansel Adams took a few of his stunning photographs. You know I had to do my best to capture a piece of that in black and white. On our way out of the park we took a small detour along a dirt road where we happily stopped to watch the buffalo cross, taking their time, rubbing their heads against posts, bending down to nibble a bit of grass and keeping the calves moving. This park definitely has its own unique draw; even if it is often overshadowed by its larger more well-known northern neighbor.