A morning view on St. Mary's Lake at Glacier National Park in Montana.

In any man’s life there are times when he loses control and feels raw, unfettered emotion. Some experience it more than others. The loss of a loved one, the birth of a child, and the joy of love are a few examples. And for better or for worse, I think my emotions have pretty much always been kept in check. Like everyone else, I have had a few peaks and valleys in my life, but my soul has remained relatively tame.

That all changed for me yesterday.

Call it a religious, call it spiritual, call it mystical…call it whatever you want. But for one of the few times in my life my heart leapt. For a moment, I lost control. And I could not have been any more overcome with emotion than I was at that very moment.

I woke up at 4 AM, which is now a common occurrence for me. I didn’t have specific plans, but I didn’t waste any time grabbing my camera and hopping onto Highway 2. I was headed west…toward the mountains.

The first glimmer of light began to paint the dark sky at about 6 AM when I was somewhere near Ethridge, Montana. A spent the morning tucked between the rolling hills and coulees just south of Ethridge photographing a gigantic field of windmills I found along the way. It wasn’t until the sun began to rise higher over the horizon that I too came out of the valley to see the rest of the world around me. Until then I did not realize how close to the Rocky Mountains I really was.

When the rich, amber glow of the sun fades I usually stop photographing. The higher the sun climbs, the worse photographs become; colors are washed out and subjects loose their definition. But when the sunlight is horizontal and diffused behind all of the crap floating around in our atmosphere right over the horizon, natural light is at its best. That’s one of the reasons I get up so early. The other reason is I often suffer from insomnia. And when I do manage to find the power to sleep, Steve (the cat) usually begins sliding things off of my nightstand in a devious attempt to wake me up. It usually works. Steve is also an early riser.

On this morning the mountains called me. I packed up my gear and continued driving toward the looming mountains to the west.

It didn’t take long to reach the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Somewhere outside of Browning I made a right-hand turn north toward St. Mary. Several times I caught myself gazing at the snow capped peaks as my truck drifted back and forth between both lanes of traffic. Luckily for me I did meet another vehicle at all while I was driving. I am equally lucky I didn’t stray off the shoulder and down a steep embankment. Like in the movies, my truck would have tumbled in some places for a thousand feet before stopping.

I wanted to purchase an annual pass for all the national parks, which is only $80, but no one was working at the large, sprawling visitor center when I arrived. Nobody was on the streets of St. Mary, either. My only option was to stuff $25 into an envelope for a 7-day pass (which didn’t seem like much of a bargain) or cautiously drive through the park and play dumb if a park ranger stopped me along the way.

Only 1-1/2 miles of the Going to the Sun Road at Glacier National Park was open. Workers just began plowing the road, which can have up to 80 feet of snow in some parts. And according to the local newspaper, it won’t be clear until the middle of June. So I figured I would donate 71 cents the next time I return with my annual pass; a pro rated amount given I only traveled 1-1/2 miles into the park.

I parked on the roadside and looked into the valley at St. Mary Lake below and huge jagged peaks flanking it on all sides. It was such a magnificent site. My eyes almost teared up at the sight. Yes, the lighting was horrible, and I was only supposed to scout the park, but I had an uncontrollable urge to do my best and try to make a good photo with the scene God handed me on this day.

I wasn’t dressed to do this at all. I scolded myself for not being better prepared. I was only wearing some jeans, a T-shirt, sweatshirt, and sneakers. The temperature outside was 28 degrees and the winds were howling at well over 40 mph. I was also thought twice about going venturing too far from my vehicle because I saw a sign at the entrance warning everyone that grizzly bears might be lurking in the area. Surely they were still hibernating, no? But if they weren’t they were probably very hungry.

“To hell with it,” I said. “If you want to be an adventure photographer, you better not be worried about something as simple as this.” So I grabbed my gear, pulled the hood over my head, and began a one mile hike through the mostly damp and uneven ground toward the edge of St. Mary Lake and my first real adventure as a photographer…albeit a minor one.

Simple.

TO BE CONTINUED: A Religious Experience (Part 2)