Burned III
Impressions
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Doug Morse
I am perched today at an overlook contemplating my exit from the park. I look out over the vast Tule Lake and the lava fields just below.
I watch as another thunderstorm grows out of the southeast and seems intent on heading this way. A moment ago I parked in the shade to avoid the intense sun but now the storm is making itself known despite being some great distance away. The sun is obscured and a cool breeze blows from the thunderheads as I listen to the distant roar of thunder. And it is here I recall some special moments from this visit.
While caught in a little downpour yesterday near the rim of Hidden Canyon I was overtaken by a wonderful cacophony of scents. There was a strong pine scent from the Ponderosa pines on the hillside and valley floor. Then with a draft of wind I encountered that wonderful herbal smell of the high chapparal. There was sage, and juniper with an intensity no doubt released by the warm day and sudden rain. The rain felt fresh and cool to enhance the senses as a strong wind blew about the forest and rocks.
This morning in camp I was the only one awake as I prepared coffee. At least I thought I was, but a little movement caught my eye and to my right about thirty feet away were four deer. They stole up quietly on soft delicate hooves. They saw me and acknowledged me for they must have seen me long before I saw them. Their coats were ruffled from the night’s heavy rain and were light tan in color with white markings elsewhere. They seemed to think better browsing was to be found inside the camp perimeter. They moved around the edge and entered where there were no nearby camps to bother them. They nibbled on the foliage and continued around the camp. All the while I might as well have been deaf to all the noise they made. Like innocent four-legged wraiths passing through my world.
This morning while returning to a scene that yesterday’s storm prevented me from photographing I noticed some turkey vultures circling the rim of Hidden Canyon. When I had finished my work, I grabbed the binoculars and walked to the rim of the canyon. Just across from me were five turkey vultures sitting on the rim, bright red heads, waiting for the fickle sun to emerge with enough strength to warm them and impart some energy to thermals for a day’s hunting. They seemed unconcerned with my presence and were patiently waiting.
I was walking on a wind-blown rocky plain and was startled by a snake moving through the grass. My initial fear died as I realized it wasn’t a rattlesnake. It was curiously celadon down the sides. It turns out to be my first Western Racer. Such an elegant and beautiful reptile.
