Day three of four in Yellowstone and both cold and good light have been delivered as hoped for. Thanks for the sun dances – they worked. But in the category of be careful what you wish for, it was -20°F at West Thumb yesterday morning and -27°F this morning at Old Faithful. My fingers won’t work at those temperatures; all four cheeks get frozen; lenses seize and don’t want to zoom; my glasses and the viewfinder are constantly fogged and half of the time I can barely see anything at all; and metal contracts in the extreme cold — causing my favorite tripod to eject its head right over the top of a major snowbank. Fortunately, it was retrievable. It is definitely a challenging photographic undertaking; one which moves photography in the direction of extreme sport. Which I usually do not embrace. Basic survival needs are given the highest priority and you just hope you can manage some creativity in the middle of survival mode.
The reward . . . even though both basins were totally fogged in until late morning, the light at West Thumb was spectacular, and the snow and ice formations beyond incredible. We figure there is at least five feet of snow at West Thumb, more than I can remember in many years. The railings along the boardwalks are completely buried and there are lovely cornices ruffled across the tops. On the edges of the springs, snow feathers inches long cover every surface. All of the trees are coated in hoar frost; the ones that rim the thermal pools have morphed into the classic “ghost trees” of the winter geyser basins. They look like a picture out of a winter fairy tale storybook about the Snow Queen. And now . . . my storybook. I am Queen for a Day.
