Places

A place out of the ordinary

Ligia and I made a trip to a place out of the ordinary this past Saturday. Not many people have been there, that I can guarantee you. It’s pretty close to civilization, and you can get there by foot. What was it? The middle of the Potomac River, near Glen Echo, MD.

Our area’s experiencing a drought. It’s not very bad (yet). One side effect of this is that the Potomac River runs fairly low to the ground, and that means one can hop and skip from stone to stone all the way to the middle of the river — if he or she can keep their balance and find their way around.

We found a path that led from the C&O Canal to the Potomac River, and followed it. A multi-hued cover of fallen leaves lined it nicely.

A side branch of the river divided the mainland from a small island. The river bed here was mostly dry, so we made our way over the stones to that island. I spotted the beautiful reflection of trees in the water, and stopped to take this photo.

We trekked carefully over the island. There are snakes in that area, and they usually lie in the shade among the rocks. We didn’t want to give any of them a rude awakening and risk a bite.

Ligia stopped on a big boulder at the edge of the island to rest and take some photos, while I ventured out over rocks covered with dry mud and algae. Shrubs grew among the rocks, taking advantage of the moisture still present in the mud underneath.

As I got farther and farther out into the river, there were less and less plants, and mostly bare rocks. One stray acorn made the unfortunate decision to sprout a little tree on a patch of mud. I wondered what would happen to it when the water level would grow once more.

When I reached the approximate middle of the river, there was no more sure footing, and I didn’t want to risk acting like a mountain goat. That would have been a sure-fire way to get wet really fast and/or break a limb. Besides, I had a great vantage point.

One thing that always attracted me to the Potomac River was the exact same reason that it’s not navigable by boat: the many rocks and boulders that can be found everywhere. That’s something you don’t see in many other places. It’s this sort of raw, untamed natural beauty that makes me think of James Fenimore Cooper novels, and to imagine Indians still roaming the shores. If you look at the photo above, you’ll see this gigantic boulder looming just a foot or so under the water level. That’s really impressive to me. Its sheer mass would crush a boat’s bow to pieces without flinching.

Meanwhile, I was standing on another solid rock. You know how they say 90% of an iceberg is under the water’s surface? Well, this is a good way to illustrate that concept.

I must have stayed there in the middle of the Potomac for at least half an hour, gazing at the nature that surrounded me. The brisk river breeze carried the unmistakable scents of autumn down the river. Ligia came to join me and we sat there together, looking at what you see below.

There’s a peace and a thrill that takes hold of you when you visit a place like this. It’s peaceful because there’s no one around. And it’s thrilling for the very same reason, and for the knowledge that others probably haven’t been nor will be there any time soon.

The golden afternoon sun streamed through the autumn leaves, untamed by the clouds that raced along the sky. This is one of those photos where everything seems to come together to create the perfect capture of a fleeting moment.

The Potomac moved by at a slow, untroubled pace, the water reflecting the sun in a sort of knowing, passive resistance to its power. It knew that power would soon fade as winter moved in.

Just up the river, about a mile or two, I could see the American Legion bridge. I-495 crosses over the Potomac there, and I drive on it every day on my way to and from work. That same bridge has been under repairs for most of this year, and I blogged about the traffic problems that the construction caused. Thankfully, that’s over now. You can see the bridge in the photo if you look carefully. It’s in the top left portion.

As I drove over it each day, I used to look over the side wistfully and imagine myself somewhere in the forest, photographing the river and the morning fog. I can’t imagine how many people pass over that bridge every day and care nothing for the view. I must remember to come back some early morning to catch the fog. It’s a real pity that there isn’t some sort of overlook built onto the bridge itself, to allow people to look down the river. It would be a magnificent sight.

As Ligia and I started to head back, we counted our blessings. We’d just visited an amazingly beautiful place, one mostly untouched by human feet, and we managed to get photographs that would preserve that memory for us for a long time to come.

Places

One perfect foggy morning

Have you ever woken up to the perfect morning fog? I have. We were staying with relatives in a tiny little village in Moldova, Romania. Their house sat between several hills.

As I got out of the house on day, morning was just starting to break. The soft, diffuse light just barely illuminated the sleepy silhouettes of the trees.

A little while later, the sun started breaking through the fog. The empty country road lay out before me, beckoning.

People started to wake up. Here, a man took out his horse to pasture as the sun literally burst onto the scene from top right.

The fog found itself overpowered by the sun, and retreated to the valleys between the hills. As far as the eye could see, little hill tops peered out from among the soft white fog, greeting the morning.

I descended into a valley not yet touched by rays of light, and spotted the sun around the corner. A new day had begun, and there were many miles still to go.

Places

Passing through Cheile Bicazului (part 2)

I realized something after I read through yesterday’s post on Cheile Bicazului a couple of times. I hadn’t included any photos of the actual mountain pass, which made my comments about how it was carved out of the rock seem a bit superfluous. That was an oversight that needed to be corrected.

This time, you’ll get to see what the road looks like. I have to confess I was too much in awe of those abrupt and incredibly tall walls on each side of me to notice the road very much. Maybe I’ll get my head out of the clouds the next time I visit the place. Till then, here’s what I’ve got.

This was taken before going into the pass. You can see the fog and bad weather hovering above the pass a few kilometers ahead. That’s Ligia walking toward me in the photo.

After we entered the pass, my eyes kept wondering upwards toward those impossibly abrupt mountain faces. Not only were they almost vertical, some were even leaning inward. This very next photo reminds me of an impenetrable hold, or fort of medieval times.

It’s amazing how efficient trees are at finding places to grow! You wouldn’t think it possible, but those evergreens managed to find their ecological niche growing right on sheer rock!

I finally managed to get my eyes on the road for this next photo. It’s narrow all through the pass as it squeezes between the mountain peaks, and there are no lane markers. At strategic points along the road, you’ll find shops that sell various folk items such as earthen vessels, carved ladles and other kitchen utensils, sheepskin vests and coats, and other such things.

When I think of how they made the road, this photo comes to mind. Notice the deep cuts in the stone? It was by brute force alone they managed to get through that impregnable granite.

This next photo will get across the sheer size of the stone walls surrounding the visitor. Those are fully grown evergreens sitting on top of that ridge!

Remember the brook in yesterday’s post? That same happy little mountain brook has grown a little wider by the time I took this photo. It winds along through the pass, accompanying the road.

I can’t resist showing that impressive wall of granite one more time.

Once we made it through to the other side, the road widened, and we entered a village. Yes, that’s the very same brook shown above. Notice how high the stone walls are on either side? That bridge is also placed high for a good reason. Our happy little brook turns into a furious torrent when the snows melt every spring. The villagers need all the protection they can get to make sure they don’t get swept away with the water. It’s very possible that even that high wall doesn’t protect them enough, and their courtyards flood every once in a while.

Cheile Bicazului is such a wonderful and photogenic place! I’ll do my best to return there with Ligia in the near future.

Places

Passing through Cheile Bicazului

This is Part 1 of a two-part post on Cheile Bicazului. You can read Part Two here.

During our recent trip to Romania, we passed through Cheile Bicazului, a stunning, narrow pass carved through the Carpathian mountains. We started out on the Transylvania side, where the weather was beautiful and sunny, though we could see the clouds hovering over the mountains far into the distance.

As we got closer, the weather got chillier, and we could see the mountain peaks enshrouded in fog. This mountain meadow was still bright and sunny, though the cold wind made us shiver.

Just a few kilometers away from the meadow pictured above, we stopped at Lacul Rosu, a lake whose origin is uncertain. It seems falling rocks blocked the path of a river, and a lake accumulated in that valley hundreds or thousands of years ago. The trunks of the flooded evergreens can still be seen in the water. Here the weather got even colder and wetter. There was no question about it — we were high up in the mountains.

That same punishing weather proved truly beneficial to my photography. Without it, the mountain peaks wouldn’t have looked quite as good. Here are a couple of peaks seen at the start of the pass.

Here’s a truly majestic peak seen from inside the pass. That fog was just perfect!

The sharply winding road broke through the peaks onto a meadow set in a small valley. I stopped the car and peered over the edge of the cliff to get this photo of the mountain brook passing below us. I love that little wooden bridge, twisted into a precarious position by spring torrents and autumn storms.

There was a group of cabins in the meadow, and off to the side, I found this deserted hut, built out of stone right into the side of the hill. Grass grew on its roof, and overgrown shrubs surrounded it. I wonder what purpose it once served.

That same mountain brook seen just above can be seen in the photo below. The same bridge can now be spotted in the top left corner. I really like mountain streams. They flow fast, and the water’s clean, cold and invigorating.

We weren’t dressed for the weather, and we ended up with slightly sore throats by the time we made it to the other side, but it sure was worth it! It was my first time through Cheile Bicazului. Ligia used to come there with her parents quite often as a child. We want to go back again and hike through those mountains should we get the chance.

Thoughts

Saying goodbye to fall

Autumn is always a bitter-sweet season for me. I still remember it as the time school starts. When I was a child, I dreaded September, because I knew school was coming. Those feelings lingered through college, and they tinge my thoughts even now. Autumn also meant harvest with all its bounty: apples, grapes, corn, potatoes, and so on. How I’d love to help my grandfather pick them from his garden! Maybe I was just happy to get away from homework, but I loved it. His delicious Concord grapes, crisp from the vine, were just the ticket for me on a cold autumn day. My grandmother would beg me in vain to wash them as I wolfed them down in sheer delight. Ah, youth, it’s wasted on children…

Then there are the colors of autumn. Is there a season more colorful than it? Winter isn’t it. Spring may be colorful, but only so in concentrated spots, like gardens with flowers or flowering trees. It’s mostly brown and green and blue. Summer is constantly and mostly green and blue. Winter is just dull. It alternates between the brown of mud and the white of snow, bespeckled here and there with an occasional cardinal bird and some evergreens, to speak nothing of the mostly dreary sky. Now autumn, that’s the ticket for color! Where else will you find different colors everywhere, even in lowly trees you wouldn’t otherwise notice?

I’ve been taking photos of fall colors for a few years now. I probably got some of my best shots this year, and I wanted to share a few with you. Join me in saying goodbye to autumn. In memoriam…