Anatomy of a Composition - Quiet Calamity

What does the river have to say - like the snow fields it is racing away from, the water in the river will reveal its hidden secrets when we’re wiling to listen.

Courses change with the seasons, some seasons more volatile than other, some years the rivers are still impassible and the new bottom belies the old pits and wells. Run-off may have been high or low regardless in mountain language it is the dangerous time to be on the river. Water is fast and cold, murky and littered with debris. Boats punctured, passengers tossed over, fish nowhere to be found.

As summer grows long and the water becomes clear, the fish reappear and traffic builds, only to be wary of impending rains and the unlikely flash-floods. Not far from this spot on the Taylor River, in 1942, a B-24 on a training mission crashed into the mountain side. All onboard were killed. Weather was blamed for the incident and now a simple road side marker recognizes the sacrifices made. The remoteness of this beautiful setting ensured that there were no dead or injured on the ground.

Nature has mostly erased the scars of the crash sight itself, just like the river is renewed each spring. So what analogy do we draw from this small piece of history, other than time allows us to heal and look whole? Possibly, that ever changing currents bring both sorrow and joy? Or maybe the worst of our pain is our own to bear, that a calamity, though distant and so quiet to others, can stop us in our tracks and leave wrenching scars that take close examination to see and will always change the live for those involved.

Anatomy of a Composition - Quiet Calamity - ISO 100 • F/2.8 • 1/6 sec. - 6-Stop ND Filter