A Tale of Two Days on Lake Pend Oreille
The nice summer weather that has come early this spring has now surrendered to hot afternoons with blooms of thick white clouds over the peaks that evolve to anvil topped thunderheads. The day before yesterday a thunderstorm blew up from the south as I was talking to my neighbor on the drive. When we finished talking I decided perhaps there would be good light in a couple of hours over the mountains and lake as the sun set.
I packed up and drove out to a favorite place, hiked a short distance along the shore then set up tripod and camp chair for the two hour wait for sunset while I watched the light unfold before me. I could filter out the noise of the cars on the highway nearby and experience the best of these moments visually. The shifting light and clouds casting rays onto the slopes of the Selkirks with the lake reflecting from its rippled surface a more muted palette of color and detail.
I grew up hiking in the mountains enough to have weather eye out in these conditions, for today I was between Lake Pend Oreille and the local end of the Cabinet mountains. Growing up in the mountains you understand the surprise weather comes from behind the peaks closest to you.
That day was an excellent example as I watched the clouds over the slope above me brew up dark and ragged. Behind me to the east over the Clark Fork river rain was forming up to make a march across the lake towards me. More rain was coming from across the lake and I could see myself in the center of pincer movement!
Lightening began to flash anonymously from somewhere in the heavens. I toyed with the idea of riding out the storm here on the cliff edge and covering up my gear. Wind on the lake rippled great stripes of the surface as foreshadow; I recalled how fickle the wind can be on the lake and knew it was within the wind’s power to knock everything over the edge of the cliff. I retreated to the truck.
Within a few minutes the rain begins to fall in sparse heavy drops. The sun from the west lit them brightly so they flashed like diamonds, gleaming as they fell from the sky. It was sublime, this warm low sunlight and bright sparkle cascading about me. It is hard to adequately describe and even more difficult to capture with the camera. I did manage to capture one image where I froze a few bright drops in mid-air. They can look more like flaws they are so small. The ones that fell in the range of the camera’s focus sparkled brightly.
The evening ended as the rain began and the sun was lost behind mountains and cloud. The light I wanted did not appear, at least where I was waiting. As I drove home further north the Selkirks were aflame but alas there was nowhere I could get to in time. Such is the nature of ephemeral light in landscapes. You pick a hill to die on and sometimes you do metaphorically. There is this idea in fishing that the one that got away was the biggest or best fish. I rather doubt that but the anticipation and imagination seem to make it seem that way. So too I suppose with photography when you find yourself in a location that didn’t work out.
The Next Day
The next evening we still had clouds and thunderheads from the night before. Again I went out but chose a different location. This is closer to the edge of a lake and an island juts out enough to be an element in some images. The clouds packed in heavily over the mountains as I waited and hoped for some special light.
Nothing spectacular emerged but I managed a couple of interesting images. It was a lovely calm evening to be out on the lake.
