Warm Summer Reign
Mount Hood from SR 35 · Mount Hood Scenic Byway · Mount Hood National Forest · Oregon · USA
Those well-versed with the sinuous Mount Hood Scenic Byway should be plenty familiar with two stretches of it along Hood's southeastern flank where the road takes rather unexpected turns and dramatically careens straight toward the mountain. One length occurs heading northbound on Oregon Route 35 just before the turnoff to White River Sno Park, whereas the image here depicts the view driving southbound (but here actually moving northbound) on the same route a touch farther to the northeast, just after passing the convoluted interchange that leads to popular Mount Hood Meadows. In either scenario, when the clouds adequately part, Mount Hood looms ominously above you like so much detached royalty, presiding with unfeeling rule over the surrounding mile-high foothills. Here you can see how much of a toll the exceptionally warm and dry 2014-15 season’s had on the now barely-there White River and Newton Clark Glaciers, revealing Mount Hood for the imposing pyramid of rock that it is.
Master (Justin) Poe and I were on the way back from a painfully-early-morning scouting trip in a new location where we were hoping to catch the full moon setting atop Hood’s peak right at sunrise, but a gross misread of the ephemeris left us humbly grasping at photographic straws. Unbelievably, it wasn’t me that erred this time...I SWEAR. As it turned out, we were 24 hours late for that particular celestial event, and the moon ended up ‘crashing’ into Hood’s southern shoulder just as the sun was clearing the eastern horizon. I tried to console (suddenly and stunningly human) Master Poe by telling him he could just digitally cut the moon out and paste it into the desired position above the mountain since, as I’ve been reassured, we photographers have carte blanche in surreptitiously manipulating a scene so long as the final image reflects what we “felt” or “experienced” at the time (otherwise referred to as “visual hallucinations” or “delusions” in my medical practice), but I guess he just wasn’t up to sniffing the vapors.
On the drive back, some airy clouds moved in over Hood, and rounding the bend we found the mountain still bathed in some decently warm morning light. I barely resisted the urge to slam on the brakes, instead pulling a U-ie and doubling back to a safe pullout off the road. We quickly but carefully but set up our tripods in various spots on the asphalt and fired off as many shots as we could, dodging the sporadic vehicle coming and going in either direction all the while. You’d think in circumstances like this we’d be concerned about the big 18-wheelers, but those you can hear coming a mile away and are thus easy enough to avoid. No, what struck the greatest fear in my heart was potentially falling victim to a Prius--not because I feared sudden death per se but rather the ignominious Darwin award candidacy that would undoubtedly befall me had my life been taken by one of those blasted egg-shaped Morkmobiles that run whisper-silent and are ostensibly exempt from the all basic rules of the road that the rest of us must follow (things like signaling your intent, the speed limit, yielding right of way to other vehicles, not tailgating, or stopping for pedestrians in the middle of crosswalks). I just couldn’t live (or rather, die) with that particular flavor of infamy.
Getting lynched by an angry mob of indignant Prius owners, on the other hand, I’m totally okay with.
