Thursday, September 9, 2010

A Norwegian morning ...

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Or so it seemed, as Rio and I made the dawn-patrol stroll up the mesa above Durango. The mountain-chill air and a dense, enveloping fog created an oceanic scene that triggered a body memory of walking a Norwegian fjord.

Or the coast of Maine. Or the Oregon shore. Anywhere but the high-desert country of Durango, Colorado.

But there it was, and there we were, and I could feel it. Especially since I couldn't see more than ten yards downfield as Rio and I wandered uphill through that thick atmospheric filter.

An hour and a half later, as I commuted to work -- walking up that same dirt trail -- the fog was finally lifting under the glare of the rising sun, slowly releasing the familiar landscape from its grasp. And I had a camera ...

Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

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