Land of Emperors

Canadian Rockies. Oh, Canada!

Land of Emperors - 4K, 2.35:1 from The Upthink Lab on Vimeo.
In a landscape as immense as the Canadian Rockies, it takes a human figure to help set the scale. In the LAND OF EMPERORS, the mountains rule. And while humans may appear tiny and insignificant, their experience venturing into that landscape is far from meaningless. The journey promises new perspective. From the striking geometry of precipitous peaks forming Canada's hydrological divide to the vastness of retreating icefields and glaciers, it can be an inspiring experience for anyone wandering through this region. This short film reminds us of the striking beauty of the Canadian Rockies and our place, as humans, within those magnificent peaks.

Shot in the beautiful mountain parks of Alberta and British Columbia, Canada. Over 80 miles and 20,000+ feet of elevation gain were traveled on foot to collect these visuals. Primary locations include Kananaskis Country, Banff National Park, Jasper National Park, Kootenay National Park and Mt. Robson Provincial Park. To comply with current regulations, the quadcopter was not operated within the national parks.

Grand Teton 8K

One of my favorite places, but I've never seen it like this. Another wowza.

GRAND TETON 8K from More Than Just Parks on Vimeo.
GRAND TETON 8K is the culmination of nearly a month spent filming in the spectacular Jackson Hole Valley and the foothills of the Teton Mountain Range. Encompassing nearly 500 square miles, Grand Teton National Park boasts an awe-inspiring array of pristine wilderness, glacial lakes, winding rivers, diverse wildlife, and the magnificent Teton Range. Journey with More Than Just Parks as we explore a land dominated by towering peaks, apex predators, and majestic beauty. This is Grand Teton. Filmed primarily in 8K.
To see more National Park films or learn more about More Than Just Parks, visit our website: morethanjustparks.com/
Music: Ryan Taubert "Becoming Human"

"Visiting Mountains" by Ted Kooser

The Tetons and the Snake River, Ansel Adams, 1942

The plains ignore us,

but these mountains listen,

an audience of thousands

holding its breath

in each rock. Climbing,

we pick our way

over the skulls of small talk.

On the prairies below us,

the grass leans this way and that

in discussion;

words fly away like corn shucks

over the fields.

Here, lost in a mountain’s

attention, there’s nothing to say.

"Visiting Mountains" by Ted Kooser from Flying at Night. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985.

Rocky Ford Creek Report: The Last Fish of Winter

Winter has retreated to the high country. There it will make its last stand.

Down along the creek it's already spring even if the calendar says it's winter for one more day.

You've brought your new ties, and over the afternoon each pattern--PMD, Lady McConnell, and Adams variant--brings trout to the net.

You bring one in on a black humpy and discover a nice little mayfly tie broken off in the corner of its jaw.

The afternoon goes from breezy to breezier, in the great tradition of March. The pelicans sail over now and then tilting like kites.

The best fly of the afternoon is the little yellow and quail soft hackle. You trail it in the meniscus behind a high-floating stimulator for awhile.

The sun angles lower. On the last trip, this was the time for a lively evening rise. This time the fish stay down.

You change tactics and present the soft hackle with a brisk strip. It works.

It's on the strip that you catch the last fish of the day and the last fish of winter.

You get home and the moon has a halo around it. Looks like a change in the weather.

Spine of the South

Awesome. And I mean the dictionary definition: "1: expressive of awe 2: inspiring awe."

I discovered this on The Adventure Blog. A permanent link to this doorway to adventure is now in my bloglist in the right margin.

Spine of the South from Overland Collective on Vimeo.

In 2015 Overland Collective photographer Eric Hanson traveled the Andean spine of South America, from Ecuador to Patagonia. For seven months, he traveled almost entirely solo, via a mixture of public transportation, trekking, and a Great Wall Wingle (if you don't know what that is, it's the finest vehicle known to man). Along the way, he took a few hundred thousand photos.

"20 Things Ancient Chinese Poets Taught Me" by Leath Tonino

1. A good staff is handy in the mountains, as is a bottle of wine, as is the rising moon.

2. Dangling a fishhook off a flat rock in the middle of a river for all eternity may or may not be possible but it’s worth a try.

3. It’s better to be addicted to moss than wealth, sex, or fame.

4. Few joys rival walking an old path in new weather.

5. A cloud can eat ten thousand pines, an entire valley, the sky, and your name.

6. A cloud can also be worn as a jacket.

7. Even when clouds are metaphors they remain clouds.

8. Ditto for ringing bells.

9. Trust ferns.

10. On a calm lake at night one can row a small wooden boat across the stars.

11. Watching plum blossoms come and go makes people very happy but also very sad.

12. Ditto for cherry blossoms.

13. Ditto for peach blossoms.

14. When feeling homesick while traveling pay attention to the local birds because they carry a piece of the land you miss in their mouths as a song.

15. Winter is a mood as well as a season.

16. There are places worth visiting that can only be reached by sitting silently in an empty room.

17. A paw print in the mud is enough.

18. A red leaf curled at the edges is more than enough.

19. A book of poems and a pot of tea are almost too much to handle.

20. A ringing bell is a ringing bell.

From Orion Magazine

Pyrenees In Atumn

PYRÉNÉES D'AUTOMNE by CAPSUSFILMS.com from CAPSUS FILMS on Vimeo.

Mountain Trout

Always good to rise above it all and spend some time with these beauties.

"Above Pate Valley" by Gary Snyder

Pictographs, Pate Valley, Yosemite National Park

We finished clearing the last

Section of trail by noon,

High on the ridge-side

Two thousand feet above the creek

Reached the pass, went on

Beyond the white pine groves,

Granite shoulders, to a small

Green meadow watered by the snow,

Edged with Aspen-sun

Straight high and blazing

But the air was cool.

Ate a cold fried trout in the

Trembling shadows. I spied

A glitter, and found a flake

Black volcanic glass-obsidian-

By a flower. Hands and knees

Pushing the Bear grass, thousands

Of arrowhead leavings over a

Hundred yards. Not one good

Head, just razor flakes

On a hill snowed all but summer,

A land of fat summer deer,

They came to camp. On their

Own trails. I followed my own

Trail here. Picked up the cold-drill,

Pick, singlejack, and sack

Of dynamite.

Ten thousand years.

"Above Pate Valley" by Gary Snyder from Riprap and Cold Mountain. © Shoemaker & Hoard Publishers, 2003.

"A Year in Idaho" from Wander Media

Superb.

A Toast To the Trout

On a cold, windy afternoon I took an end-of-the-year drive. I decided to head up the road that has taken me to Trout Lake so many times.

It was a leisurely drive, with many stops to enjoy the sights. I got as far as Fish Lake where I decided to leave Trout Lake for another day. Like saving a present to open later.

The trout up there are tucked in under the ice. So here's a toast to you, Trout, for a Happy New Year and a safe winter. See you, Spring 2015.

Small Stream/Trout Lake Report: Mountains and the Moon

You decide to go back up the mountain for some Redband fishing. There's a wide stretch of creek right by the campground that makes you think about wading.

But instead you start up the trail.

There's elk sign here and there. You keep your eyes and ears open.

Upstream a ways the trail brings you back down to the creek. You have everything you need to fish except a rod. So you take out your Buck knife and make yourself a sweet little small stream rod.

You tie a length of 5X tippet on the rod and knot on a little elk hair caddis. You're ready.

You float the caddis over the first deep hole.

Your brand new rig works just fine.

You work your way upstream.

There's a beautiful pool at the base of a log jam. You come around the jam and pick your way out to where you can sit behind the big log.

The whole pool opens up to you.

You can see fish riding the currents in the deep. The caddis sweeps over them and they dart up to intercept it. You draw them up into the sunlight for a moment, then send them back into the shadowy depths.

You start downstream.

You go past your starting point and find the deepest pool yet. You climb down, stand on a deadfall and hang onto a tree with one hand so you can reach out with the other and let the fly drift into the shadows five feet down from the rock. A piece of shadow breaks off, rises, and takes the fly confidently. It's a big fish, maybe ten inches. You're hoisting it up when it hits a branch, twists, and comes off.

You go back again, and catch the small version.

You climb up to the campground and the truck. You take the fly, but you leave your new rod leaning against a picnic table. Someone else may get some use out of it. When you come back you'll make another. You're thinking the next one might be a foot longer and a bit more limber. It's fun to be a rod designer.

You start to drive on up the mountain. You have another destination in mind. You've never been there, so the trip is an exploration of new country.

It takes longer than you thought, but it's a beautiful drive.

You finally come to the high meadows you were looking for. The place is named Long Swamp, and it's known for its chain of beaver ponds. You have high expectations, but you find the water level way down. The stream is at its widest at the culvert under the road, but the water is shallow and warm.

You squish around on the marshy ground looking for fishable water. You don't find any.

You get back in the truck and backtrack slowly. You find where the ponds would be if there were water, but now they're mostly mud flats. You determine to come back earlier next year.

You start the drive back down the mountain, but you stop at a new stream. It's beautiful.

This time you get out your fly rod and cast down and across to an overhanging bank. You're fishing the cinnamon ant that got no hits the last time you were at Trout Lake. These Redbands love it. Fish pop out and take the fly hungrily.

One of them is the fish of the day. 

After awhile you come to the end of that stretch of creek, so you load up and continue your drive down to the valley. You don't feel that the day should be over yet. There will be a full moon tonight, and you want to be somewhere on or near a body of water when it rises. You weigh your options all the way down.

You aren't surprised to find yourself at Trout Lake. It's mostly on the way home. You settle into the float tube and fish. But the lake is still quiet. Instead of fighting it, you let the peace and stillness enter you.

You still fish, but it's OK if you don't catch anything. You're waiting for the moon.

Darkness falls and the stars come out. Bats flit. A satellite crosses silently overhead, then another. Then you notice that the rock face to the west is glowing. The light of the full moon is beginning its descent to the lake.

Finally the moon reaches the top of the eastern ridge...

...and spills its light over all the world...

...and you. Now you're ready to bring this extraordinary day to a close.