Photostory: The Misty Morning

I’m fervently working through the 2057 photos I took in Costa Rica, and I hope to start sharing some photostories from that trip soon.  If you can’t wait that long, we’re already sharing some of our travel adventures on our travel blog, BIGtinyWorld.  We won’t be duplicating posts, so you’re invited to follow both blogs!

In the meantime, I have a photostory that’s a bit older.  I’ve been anxious to process these photos, but for whatever reason, I simply haven’t gotten around to them.  I alluded to this story before, but I now have the finished pictures to share in all their glory.

I love love love mist.  It completely transforms a scene into something seldom seen – eerie and magical.  With just the right amount of mist, any mundane location can’t help but be breathtakingly beautiful.

We took a trip to Crater Lake, and we stayed at a nearby campground off of Diamond Lake.  We attempted to catch sunset our first night there, but we found the crater hidden in a snowstorm.  Back at the campground, it was cold and wet, but drying, with low clouds already settling into the valley for the night.

I had a hunch this was the perfect formula for some morning fog.

However, we stayed up late playing games over a few drinks, as a group of photographer friends tend to do while on a photo excursion together.  Needless to say, the thought of crawling out of bed before the sun didn’t appeal to anyone.

I wasn’t fond of the early hour, either, but the thought of magical mist was enough to drag my tired butt out of bed before anyone else.  Sleep tends to vanish, and I’m more willing to do crazy things at the promise of some good photos.

For once, my hunch paid off.

Absolutely no one was around, and I was unsure if I should even be out on the dock.  Not even the fishermen were up yet.  The air was crisp and silent, but the lake was stunningly shrouded in a thin layer of mist.

Magic.

I went to town.  It was one of those incredible mornings where I forgot the cold entirely; I didn’t even notice the frost on my camera bag.  I loved the calm water, the birds all lined up on a distant log, the idle motorboats resting at the dock, the proud mountain serving as my backdrop.  It was gorgeous, and I couldn’t get enough.

Have I mentioned I love the excitement of a perfect photo morning?  Sure, I take pictures all the time.  But times are rare when I’m giddy at the camera, ecstatic to be capturing a perfect moment.  My techniques could be atrocious, and the photos would still be amazing.  This is what fuels my passion; this is what I live for.

I reluctantly packed up my gear once the sun was too high and the magic gone, the early boats just departing from the shore and disturbing the mirror lake.  It was only then that I realized my hands were a bit cold.

I returned to the cabin to share my captures and incite jealousy amongst my sleepy comrades.  They vowed to try the next morning, but after a warmer sunny day, the following day wouldn’t offer the same magic again.  Perhaps next time, they’ll forsake their pillows and come with me.

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