About 45 miles southwest of my home is a little town called Harrison. Harrison has a population of about 175 people. Like I said, it is a little town.
As you enter the town there is one sign with an arrow pointing left to Harrison Lake. I have seen the sign many times before but usually I am on my way somewhere else so never got the chance to see the lake itself. I made a point of going there specifically last week around sunset (big surprise, a sunset!).
The lake is filled by runoff from the eastern slopes of the Tobacco Root mountains. It seems to be popular with fisherman and recreational boaters. Fortunately, the lake was pretty much empty except for a few people. At first glance, it's not an attractive lake. There's no trees to speak of, the sun rises and sets at the narrowest ends, no big rocks, just sort of desolate. I wasn't going home empty-handed though.
With my gear on my back I walked quite a bit of the lake and first stopped and set up at the widest point of the lake. The light was flat so I spent some time just looking for the right composition. This was my first image. The Tobacco Root mountains are in the background. If you look closely you can see some cattle grazing and a person in a small boat at the shore in the center. I really like this image for the earth tones and the great reflection.
I have a soft spot for the Missouri River. It actually starts here in Montana and travels 2300 miles or so before it ends in St. Louis, Missouri. It doesn't get near the coverage of the other famous rivers here, the Yellowstone, the Madison, the Big Hole and many, many others. It did play a huge part in settling Montana in the late 1800s as ships brought goods, people and livestock up and down the river long before the trains were brought in.
I've seen quite a bit of this river. It supports an amazing amount of wildlife, assorted vegetation and trees, and lots of recreation. But for the most part, it stays quiet all your 'round. And that's okay with me.
When I first moved to Montana I lived about 1/2 mile from the Yellowstone River. In 2013 I moved to a new location about 1/2 mile from the Missouri River, which by the way, is formed here in Montana before it starts it's 2300 mile journey to St. Louis.
I am a huge fan of moving water, both as a fly fisherman and a photographer. The river is constantly changing the banks that confine it, the flow may change, the flora and fauna that rely on it change constantly. No two days are exactly alike along a river.
At some point the river claimed these two trees and for now they lie together on the shore while the river is at it's lowest point. I climbed between them and looked out at the moving water that had brought them here.
I chase sunsets. Some photographers chase sunrises, some do both. It's an all or nothing venture, and you never really know what is going to happen until it does or doesn't present a brief moment for a photograph.
I went out Saturday at about 4:00 PM in the hopes of finding some nice snow-capped mountains that would reflect the setting sun. I drove two hours west, the clouds thickened, the potential for a colorful sunset diminished. I stopped to photograph some deer, convinced myself it was just nice to get out and at least see that, and headed home.
Passing by this homestead which I have photographed several times, I decided to stop as there were some breaks in the clouds. I took a few hand-held shots about 15 minutes before this image but it wasn't looking promising but decided to wait it out a bit and set up my gear just in case.
The sun dropped below the horizon and I waited and paced back and forth along the barbed wire fence. And as if there was a big switch somewhere, the next time I looked I was presented with this shot. I was grinning the rest of the way home.
I don't know many things about sunsets, but I have learned to wait until you can't see anything in front of you before you pack it up for the day.
After a very dry summer we have had a few welcome days of cloudy weather with a fair amount of rain this week. The trails have been muddy, the dogs have been damp for 72 hours at least, and the nighttime temperatures have been perfect for sleeping.
I stood on my front porch at sunset last evening just as the clouds were beginning to break. For a brief moment I could see the first snow-capped peak of the season ahead of me catching the last light of the day.
My favorite time of the year is rapidly approaching. The summer heat is over, the insects go away, rattlesnakes stay underground, and my two arctic breed dogs can once again breathe easy and run all over Montana. We've got about the next seven months of pure heaven ahead of us!