The beautiful irony of this photograph is that I have little memory of where it was taken in Alaska. The tall mountain, offset by thirds from the center, may or may not have a name, and then, it may only be known to the natives. It is tall enough to be the highest peak in a number of the contiguous states, tall enough to catch the cumulus clouds that passed by, hooking them on its summit, and tall enough that it should be memorable–but that is the awful truth of Alaska’s wilderness, the majesty is overwhelming. For nature lovers like I am, it was a total sensory overload. I snapped thousands of pictures, not photographs, but pictures to simply document what I could not trust my visual cortex to process. That I managed to take this photograph and others as beautiful was simple dumb luck. Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn every once in a while.
I long to go back to Alaska with better gear and a better understanding of what to expect. Using kit lenses on my Nikon D40 in automatic mode was like cutting one’s first filet mignon with a teaspoon, ultimately effective, but crude and personally unsatisfying in hindsight. Still, I cannot regret the photographic experience totally. I stumbled on some amazing photographs through the law of averages. When your subject is so magnificent, it is hard not to capture some inkling of the awe, as here with this unnamed mountain, likely passed by in a matter of minutes during our cruise up the inside passage as the clouds passed with equal celerity over the peak, trailing it like a wispy pennant casually waving in the boreal air.