Sometimes, you need to listen to that little voice inside your head. Usually, I don’t, but today, I did. And I’m glad.
Day 3 of my Washington State vacation saw me heading toward the Longmire entrance to Mt. Rainier National Park. I had a reservation for two nights at the National Park Inn. I love staying in historic park lodges. No, they aren’t 5-star hotels – they are very basic with no bells or whistles and usually no television or phone and definitely no internet service. But, they are always rich with park history.
April means The Mountain still has quite a bit of snow, making access to many places difficult to well nigh impossible. I’d already stayed at the Paradise Lodge, so I figured staying someplace a little lower in elevation would allow me to hike around without having to resort to cross-country skis (back in the day, I loved downhill skiing, but was a terrible alpine skier).
Naturally, I arrived at the National Park Inn way too early for check-in, having left my Seattle hotel around 7AM that morning (it only takes 2 hours to get to the Longmire entrance). So, I figured I’d try to drive up to the Paradise area to see how it looked covered with snow; I’d visited during the fall, when the huckleberry bushes were brilliant oranges and reds, and the sky was a deep, dark blue.
The best adjective I have to describe the day is: “bleak”. The sky was a hazy white. The cloud cover was high enough in altitude to not hide Mt. Rainer and surrounding mountains, but basically, the scenery was white on white, with a little bit of dark from the treeline and the rocks sticking out of the snow.
I realized I was fighting an uphill battle when my attempt to hike to Narada Falls was a total bust before even leaving the parking lot. The snow level reached above my head and I had no snow shoes (perhaps I should invest in a pair, although I do live in southeast Texas where snow shoes do nothing but make for an interesting wall decoration). Then, I heard a little voice inside my head telling me to head back down in elevation, away from the hues of white, and toward the multitudinous hues of green deep within the shadowy forest.
So, I did.
I parked, pulled out my tripod and cameras, set things up, then just stood there.
The forest is still and silent, yet alive with the sounds of nature: birdsong, wind blowing through the trees, the creak of the trees as they bend in the wind, the drip of moisture from the leaves to the ground, the flow of water from countless meltwater springs and rivulets.
I captured images I would not have thought to photograph had I not listened to that little inner voice telling me to leave the white-on-white.
Do yourself a favor – listen occasionally to that little voice inside your head because it may well lead you to the best images of the day.
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