Watching a storm build from tiny popcorn clouds to an enormous rain maker is an amazing sight that can take hours and cover hundreds of miles.  During the journey, you are likely to encounter small communities and other interesting stuff that would have remained a mystery to you, had the storm not been followed.  It is Nature as a tour guide, in a way.

From a photography standpoint,  a thunderstorm adds a dramatic element to an otherwise featureless landscape.  It is important, for many reasons, to keep a safe distance from any large storm.  For one, you want to have as much of the storm in the photo as possible.  There are storms so large that you may need to be 50 miles away or more to get good scaling.  Also, these storms can be extremely dangerous.  Keeping an eye on the weather radar along with making smart choices will lead to an adventure that does not end with a car stuck in the mud or with a hail battered windshield.

Saturday, March 21.  Eastern Colorado

I was in Castle Rock shooting a house in Castle Pines Village.  I figured since I was further south than my usual starting point, I would take advantage of the situation and follow the large storm that had begin brewing over the southern metro area while I was shooting the house.  After refueling, I headed east to Parker then south to Franktown.  From Franktown I headed east trying to stay on the southern flank of the storm, which was heading northeast very quickly.  It took me a couple of hours before I was in a position to get a good angle for photos, it was 530pm and light was beginning it’s dip into golden hour.  I had made my way northeast past I-70, was now heading east on HWY 36, near Deer Trail.  I was equipped with my standard rig: Nikon D300, 12-24mm lens, 18-70mm lens, Garmin eTrex GPS, and iPhone to check weather radar.  I took farm roads looking for interesting subjects to include as foreground for the dramatic storm.  There were various abandoned silos and old natural gas wells that provided amazing texture the scenes.  I found a deserted Conoco transfer station with an enormous radio tower and huge above ground storage tanks.  I took several shots at this area and moved on. By now, the storm was beginning to weaken and the light was beginning to fail.  I decided it was time to turn towards home.

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I was probably only 30 minutes behind the storm, which had dumped a large amount of rain in a very short time.  The roads were uncomfortably muddy.  Visions of a short slide off the road and a long, muddy walk to find help kept my speed down and my nerves up.  It was four miles of muddy, slick roads. I could drive no faster than 15 mph or else the tires would begin to lose traction and the car would lean sickeningly to the side.   The air smelled like new growth and fertilizer, probably a smell that is very familiar to the folks that live near farms but to a city boy it smelled new and it smelled great.  I eventually made my way to HWY 71, then HWY 36, then I-70 to Denver.  I had a good set of photos and an exciting escape.  It was a good day.

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I started with a #8 beadhead hare’s ear, with a very small lead weight approx 8″ up from the nymph, with a yarn strike indicator 6ft from the nymph.  I approached the first seam quietly and began to cast.  Achieving a good drift was proving difficult due to the cross currents and my rusty skills.  I felt like a bit like a bull in a china shop, the line flailing madly and the fly slapping loudly on the water.

After frightening the fish in that area for a few minutes while I got my groove back, I moved to a little riffle.  I removed the weight and adjusted the strike indicator down to compensate for the shallower water.  The casts were getting better, but no strikes.

Over the next two hours, I moved from seam, to run, to riffle.  The weather was beautiful and the sound of the stream is exaclty what the doctor ordered for my frayed nerves.  I was having no luck catching fish, but the meditative quality of fly fishing was in full effect and I was feeling about as balanced as I can be.  I had switched to a #6 beadhead prince nymph a little earlier and I was fishing a relatively deep run along a grassy overhang.  I felt good about this area because I was getting a good drift and easy casts.  I cast four times before the first strike.  And I missed.  I cast 25 more times before the next strike.  Got him.  Photographed.  Released.

I was letting the water rest and just as I was about to make a note in the journal, I heard what I thought was my car alarm going off in the distance.  I clumsily splashed to the bank and ran like a wild man towards the car (what a sight I must have been).  I finally reached the car to discover that it was not my car with the alarm issue.  I was pleased that my car was undamaged, but the meditative vibe was gone.  I was done fishing.  I removed my vest and placed it along with the rod into the car.  I left my waders on because I had a feeling the sunset was going to be spectacular, and I wanted to be on the river with my camera in case I was right.

For twenty minutes the river and forest became filled with light and color.  Bright yellow clouds reflected the low angle light onto the ground, making the river glow with what looks like its own inner light.  I snapped shots and walked, hearing the stream and my own breath.  By the time the sun was down, I was back into my meditative groove, back in balance.

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This MONW excursion covered 505 miles, including the towns of Limon, Hugo, Genoa, Cope, and Lindon.  I left Denver at 11 am, arrived in Limon at 12:30.  I found a deserted motel and quickly snapped a few shots of the slowly deteriorating structures.  From Limon, I headed to Hugo where I found a few prime subjects.  Heading Northeast from Hugo (with the sun behind me), I traveled the county roads, looking for abandoned structures.  On HWY 71 near Last Chance, I found an old farm.  The house was creepy (as most abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere are).  All of the furniture was overturned and falling apart.  Every surface was covered with bird shit, and there were more appliances scattered inside and out than the house originally was equipped with.  This is clearly where people discard old, large objects when they don’t want to go to the landfill.  Up a hill to the west of the house was the farm.  An old truck, slowly rusting farm implements, and several ruined grain silos covered the large grassy area.  The photos of the old truck are definitely my favorite images from this trip.  I hit several other areas over the next few hours, eventually finding myself in Edson, Kansas.  From Edson, I returned to Denver on I-70 arriving home at 830pm.  It was a fun trip, allowing for plenty of time to reflect on the week that had just passed, and the week that was coming.  The experience left me feeling relaxed, focused, and centered.  There is nothing better than a freshly scrubbed brain.

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I was equipped with my standard rig: Nikon D300, 3 lenses, Garmin eTrex GPS.  I arrived at roughly 5pm, allowing approximately 2 hours of walking and shooting.  The weather was clear with scattered clouds, no wind and  mild temps.  It was Sunday afternoon in early March, the throngs of tourists that usually crowd the streets are still three months away.  I parked at the PERA building and walked to the plaza.  From the plaza, I headed east into the neighborhood adjacent to the downtown area.  My goal was to photograph as many interesting textures as possible, I was thinking mostly about windows and doors.   After a nice walk and plenty of strong images on my CF cards, I left Santa Fe.  It was a fantastic afternoon.

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It was a breezy, cool day.  Autumn is definitely on its way in the high country.  I had maybe a dozen strikes throughout the four hours on the river, I only landed one.