Crossing Over

Temperatures plunge to five degrees while setting up my tent in a snow swale in Wisconsin. Winter can be challenging for some, but I have gotten to a place where cold weather no longer stops me from being outside. As the Finns say, there is no bad weather, just bad clothing. Preparation is key. 

You may remember my first winter camping trip when I shared my story four years ago. That experience catapulted me into a state of fear riled to survive outdoors in the midwest wilderness with below-freezing temperatures. Upon waking my first morning immersed in the snow, my perspective had changed.

One of my favorite books is The Razors Edge by Somerset Maugham. The story of a man transformed by his experiences during World War 1 and later chose a transcendent path to search for deeper meaning over a conventional life. 

The title comes from a verse in the Katha Upanishad. "The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; the wise say the path to Salvation is hard."

Indeed, many experiences can be challenging but exploring the edge delivers contrasts and makes life interesting. And most recently, I have just been to a hot arid desert and a cold, snowy wilderness, where there is no greater extreme.

I step out of my tent onto a soft pillow of snow into the chilly air. A ray of sunlight delicately crawls along a row of barren trees, a radical contrast to the swale the night before. My camera is on my side, but I do not photograph. I have not yet crossed over, as single-digit temperatures still require a different focus for me. One edge sharpens another and appreciate simply nature's subtleties at five degrees.

Powerful winds kick up a sand storm on my first day in Death Valley. Like a snow swale, it isn't easy to navigate. Is it a coincidence these conditions and contrasts follow me? 

Death Valley National Park is the opposite of cold. The hottest place on earth in summer and an artist's playground in winter. Badlands, canyons, and mineral-rich basins offer varied landscapes of shapes, lines, patterns, and hues to entertain the abstract eye. But watching the changing light on a sea of rolling dunes is the most transcendent of all as nature transforms from peaceful repose to harsh contrast in the blink of an eye.

In the early 20th Century, Picasso and Georges Braque developed a new way of seeing through Cubism. They crossed over when challenging conventional art forms and composing different subject angles to appear fragmented and abstract. Cubism forged a path for all of us to explore outside what the realist's eye can see. Much like the sun's angle when it alters our view, soon you won't see things the same way again. 

Standing in the dark near sunrise, Jennifer Renwick, my morning photography guru, shares her observations about the upcoming opportunities for photographing the changing light on Mesquite Flat Dunes. Her exquisite images reflect years of exploration and experience here. This wisdom provides insight into my quest to catch the sun's spirit as it makes its daily journey.

After a half-mile trek in the dark, we arrive at our lookout over this desert Shangri-la. The wind leaves a dry taste in the air. As the light ascends toward the edge of the horizon, a soft, rippled blanket reveals itself, and velvety dunes transform from blue to pink, then gold. I want to hold onto this serene moment. Then shadows shapeshift with time, creating a ridge, much like the hard edge of a razor, soon crossing over to alter my view.