72" by 36" | Available | Oil on linen
There is a vapour stands in the wind;
It shapes itself on taper skeins:
You look again and cannot find,
Save in the body of the rains.
And these are spent and ended quite;
The sky is blue and the winds pull
Their cloud with breathing edges white
Beyond the world, the streams are full.
-Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844 - 1889, British poet
Hiking into Valhalla Canyon, Alison and I were desperately grabbing at bushes and roots to claw our way up a steep hanging glacier moraine. We gained appreciation for those early mountaineers who did their approaches without benefit of trails, nicely graded switchbacks and signs pointing the way. The primitive remoteness of our campsite in Valhalla was ample reward for our efforts. However a snow storm pinned us down for the next 36 hours and the high winds ripped one side of our megamid stakes out of the ground. Alison clutched the tent to keep the whole thing from blowing down the mountain while I piled big rocks on to reinforce the stakes. We didn't get to climb, but we did get some awesome shots of the North Ridge of the Grand in one of its dramatic and savage moods.
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