Rocky Mountain National Park, Staff Journal, 2006by Amy Marquis, Assistant Editor, National Parks Magazine
February 12, 2006
Our bus streams across a flat highway, leading us out of Denver’s sprawling suburbs and into the foothills of Estes Park, Colorado—the gateway community to Rocky Mountain National Park. After a high-energy week of networking at the annual gathering of the North American Nature Photography Association, I’m thankful for this escape to the mountains.
The range glows pink and godlike outside the bus window as the sun climbs higher in the east. So these are the pastels photographers speak of with that glimmer in their eyes. As an editor on National Parks magazine, I see these landscapes all the time—but to finally observe one off the printed page is a completely different experience. It's no wonder Native Americans made this land their religion.
We’re on our way to a nature photography field trip, but I'm not a photographer. So as the bus stops just inside the park entrance, where we spot a herd of elk a football field away, I feel amateur and out of place, my point-and-shoot camera ridiculous next to the massive lenses and tripods. In time, word gets out that I’m an editor at a respected conservation magazine, and I start to remember I’m not so out of place after all. Even so, I stay mindful of the fact that I'm a rookie here, as Rules of the Field fly at me left and right: Stay out of a photographer's line of sight; watch where your shadow falls; and be aware of the ground beneath you—heaven forbid you leave a footprint in the snow and muck up a perfectly pristine picture. Photographers, I quickly learn, can be a grumpy breed when competing for space. So I retreat to a cluster of rocks halfway up a wind-swept hill, where I watch an elk tug on pine needles, moving its floppy, velvet lips with a serious sort of expression that is, at the same time, quite amusing. Our route, led by renowned nature photographers Wendy Shattil and Bob Rozinski, is straightforward: We enter through the Fall River Entrance, loop over Deer Ridge Junction, then take the road toward Bear Lake—lunching beside a frozen creek in Moraine Park on the way. Our return includes a stop at the Horseshoe Park overlook, where we photograph a feisty trio of magpies, and a quick drive by at the Lawn Lake flood area.
I sense my perceptions shifting from a casual park visitor to someone who sees like a nature photographer. I don't just see a mountain, I see an emerald green hill backlit with a cerulean sky and a hawk that's drifting perfectly into the Rule of Thirds--a concept photographers use to frame images more dramatically. This is what four hours in a park with a group of nature photographers does to you. They teach you to analyze the land with technical, disciplined eyes. And before you know it, the f-stops, polarizing filters, and heavy 500mm lens become the art form that stirs your creative soul in ways that casual observing cannot. It's a feeling that I'll recall every time a photographer’s images come across my desk, as I go about the difficult work of conveying the beauty of these special places using nothing more than paper and ink.
IF YOU GO: April is a bit early for wildflowers, but it is still an excellent time to view deer and elk, which still roam the lower elevations easily accessible by car. The mountain peaks are still striking and snow-capped and reflect nicely in the lakes that continue to thaw. Weather in April can be pleasant, but visitation is still low, so it's easy to find a corner of the park all to yourself. Listen at night for great horned owls and their nestlings, and the sounds of coyote packs howling across the meadows. Later in April, birds migrate to the area in preparation for nesting, providing even more opportunities for those with cameras, binoculars, or simply a keen pair of eyes.
