Landscapes

Once upon a Glacier

Once upon a time, a glacier used to run this this massive valley, descending from the mighty Vatnajökull whose eruption brought the transatlantic flights to a standstill. Though this glacier had paled in comparison to its parent, it still had been a voluminous mass of ice, stretching a few miles long and a mile wide. Alas, now this glacier has all but receded to its ice-cap, leaving behind a gorgeous glacier-scoured valley, a meltwater lake and tiny slivers of water that wind their way down to the ocean.

Standing atop this vista overlooking this valley, I can't help but imagine what this amazing sight would have been.

Sakftafell National Park

Fjaðrárgljúfur Canyon

It appeared as nothing more than a small road climbing up to a rolling uplands, a grass-covered green hilly terrain devoid of any trees, with a tiny creek meandering out from a small canyon. A quizzical look passed by my buddy's eye as I urged him to turn into that road that the road-sign helpfully indicated as Fjaðrárgljúfur, a name that would surely stump a spelling bee winner.

But as we got closer, the terrain became more dramatic. The creek still continued its slow course upstream, but on either sides, towering stone walls stood beside finger-like projections of earth. And as we climbed higher and higher, the geology became as twisted and gnarled as its confounding name. Finally, from its very end, I looked back at the twisted walls of the canyon, with green vegetation sticking to every possible slope, slowly mellowing away to the flatlands yonder; I kept wishing I had had time to explore this canyon from the river, a perspective that would have been rather unique. There's certainly more to this  place than meets the eye

Fjaðrárgljúfur
Iceland

A Sunset to Remember

"Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity”
-- John Muir

Another day in the backcountry wilderness of Washington was about to end. I sat on a narrow trail etched into the steep rocky terrain, watching the light slowly fade. As the light beams slowly swirled over the forests below, I felt as far away from the trappings of human civilization as I could ever be.

The sun appeared, albeit for a brief moment, from behind the mass of low-hanging clouds: a blast of bright orange without a mushroom cloud. Plants lit up, trees glowed, and cameras flickered. And then it disappeared. But, in that brief moment of light, it felt as though the mountains were calling to the tired souls inside all of us.

It is time to answer that call, and to go out.

Gifford Pinchot National Forest
WA USA

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Winding down Summer

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As the smoky summer slowly fades to a refreshing fall, I looked back on some of my favorite wilderness outings in the warm halcyon days in the past few weeks. Sunny weekends flew by as the snow melted off mountain tops, converting ski routes into hiking trails, creating space for trees to grow and flowers to bloom; mountaintops became more accessible, making for photogenic treks and indelible memories

This was one such short trek after a volunteering event with WTA, where I climbed up to an stunning overlook near Mt Baker. From atop here, endless mountain ranges carpeted by green conifers and punctuated by deep river valleys stretched in all directions, with the glacier-capped Mt Baker standing proud amidst the northern reaches of the North Cascades

Mt Baker Recreational Area
WA USA

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