The Canadian Rockies: A Retrospective

I’d wanted to visit the Canadian Rockies for quite some time, but for some reason it never seemed feasible.  I’ve been taking photo trips, with regularity, since 2002, but–until this past fall–I’d only flown as part of the travel to my photo destination four times.  And I’d never crossed an international border to do it.  But for a variety of reasons (the details of which I won’t bore you with) it seemed different in May of last year when I was pondering what to do for the autumn.  One thing led to another and I went through the crank turning process of making plans to spend two weeks in the Canadian Rockies during what I hoped would be the fall color season.

Aspen Forest, Muleshoe Picnic Area, Banff National Park, Alberta

If you’ve been following this series, which I began to post back in October, you know things turned out pretty well.  My timing was good as far as color was concerned; I received good weather (mostly–we won’t talk about Lake O’Hara); I had excellent sources upon which to draw and covered a lot of ground without feeling too rushed.

Mostly, I had the opportunity to experience what quietsolopursuits, a regular reader of and commenter upon this blog, has referred to several times as “one of the most beautiful places on earth.”  (I must add that, while I haven’t had the opportunity to see all that many spots on the planet, it’s hard for me to imagine that this characterization is wrong, because it’s difficult to fathom that there are many, if any, more beautiful areas than the Canadian Rockies.)

Moraine Lake from the Rock Pile, Banff National Park, Alberta

Prior to this trip, I had spent almost no time photographing in an alpine environment.  I really didn’t know what I’d been missing, though I suppose I had an inkling.  It didn’t take long before I was deeply immersed in the unique aesthetic facets of this mountainous setting.  And there are some pretty significant differences photographing in comparatively tall mountain chains like the Rockies and much older, shorter ones such as the Appalachians.  The Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee and North Carolina are part of the southern Appalachians and I’ve photographed there–and further north in West Virginia–numerous times, but the comparative experience with the Rockies is distinct, and in some less than subtle ways–ways that are informed by specific photographic choices.

Sunrise, Waterfowl Lakes, Banff National Park, Alberta

I purchased the Nikkor 14-24 ultrawide angle lens when I moved to “full frame” capture at the tail end of 2008, so it’s been in my gear bag for more than six years now.  I can say, with little fear of contradiction, that I used the 14-24 more frequently during my two weeks in the Canadian Rockies than I had in the previous five years and nine months combined.  There’s something about the setting that fairly begs for sweeping, wide angle expression.  That may make sense when comparing shooting opportunities in the Canadian Rockies to my normal haunts in the American Midwest–where broad vistas are few and far between.  But I found the urge to go very wide much stronger in the Rockies than I did in other fairly “wide open” locales, such as southern Utah, Nevada and Arizona.  I used the 14-24 in all of these places, but not nearly as often as I did in Canada.

Sunrise, Mt. Edith Cavell from Cavell Lake Outlet, Jasper National Park, Alberta

The fearful consequence of going very, very wide when shooting is including too much in the scene–something I’m always well-aware of–but to my eye, that was seldom a problem when I looked through the viewfinder with the 14-24 mounted on the camera while in the Rockies.  Unlike anywhere else I’ve ever shot, 24mm simply wasn’t wide enough in a large number of places.

Meeting of the Waters, Athabasca River, Jasper National Park, Alberta

And yet, despite the pull of the ultrawide angle, I found that I was still able to see the landscape in a more detailed, intimate manner as well.  It’s a view I’ve become accustomed to over the years–a function of my copious experience shooting landscapes in tight, cluttered settings, I’ve opined.

Water Reeds, Beaver Lake, Jasper National Park, Alberta

Part of the reason I found this trip to be so memorable–and, quite literally, not a day has gone by in the nearly 4 1/2 months since I returned when I haven’t reflected at some length on the experience–is that, through my photographic choices in the field, I was able to let the palpable grandeur of the landscape speak for itself without compromising my ability to portray it through my own eyes.  At least I think I was able to do that.  (I certainly hope so, in any event.)

Aspen Leaves and Grasses, Preacher’s Point, David Thompson Country, Alberta

This is part of the reason why every shooting day was so full; I was steadily occupied with the attempt to reflect a kind of organic feel that I was developing for the place.  At the risk of getting all ephemeral, it was as if I spent time at each location working to let the Rockies be the Rockies, and reflecting that sentiment through the lens.  Then, when I was satisfied that I’d at least begun to accomplish that task, I’d let my eyes do the kind of seeing that they’ve sort of been trained to do in settings where there was no real alternative.

Mistaya River, Mistaya Canyon, Banff National Park, Alberta

Mistaya Canyon Intimate Black & White, Banff National Park, Alberta

Whatever fuzzy line that might divide these two approaches disappeared in the many meadows that I visited on the trip, something I discussed at length in a “meta” post a few weeks ago.  It was in these marvelous places that all of the elements of wonder seemed to come together so effortlessly.

Mt. Peskett and Kootenay Plains at Sunset, David Thompson Country, Alberta

Above all, there was the peace and quiet.  With few exceptions (the area around the Lake Louise Chateau, for instance), things were peaceful and relatively empty.  On one of the days that I was at Jasper, I took a hike from the Beaver Creek Picnic Area, past Beaver Lake to the First and Second Summit Lakes.  It was an almost entirely clear afternoon, with temperatures in the 60s (F).  The trail was nearly flat and, though it climbed over a number of rock slide areas, was easy going.  The round trip was about eight miles all told, and though it was mostly a bust in terms of photography (despite some decent shots at Beaver Lake on the return trip; the two Summit Lakes had extremely low water levels, the light was poor and the aspen stands around both lakes were fairly picked over) it was still a delightful experience.  After I passed Beaver Lake, I never saw another soul and, outside of the occasional bird call and the sounds associated with a light breeze and the tread of my own feet, all I experienced was quietude.  This was the rule rather than the exception.

Wildland Trail, Jasper National Park, Alberta

What do you do after visiting the Canadian Rockies?  Two things.

1) You spend time, daily, remembering, seeing through your mind’s eye what those two weeks were like.

2) You count the days until you can return–something I hope to do in September of this year. (I have a great deal of unfinished business at Lake O’Hara.)

If that comes to fruition, and I’m increasingly hopeful that it will, I’ll document the wonders of that experience here and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Pyramid Mountain from Patricia Lake at Sunrise, Jasper National Park, Alberta

Thanks for reading about my time in the Canadian Rockies.  In my next post, I’ll return to more topical subject matter.