Cascade in Glacier National Park

After having visited Glacier National Park several times, I was finally able to bring my son with me in the summer of 2006. He was 14 at the time, and I took the greatest of pleasure in showing him all the scenic places I had discovered during my previous trips.

On July 7, we took Going-to-the-Sun Road westward to Logan Pass, and I decided to stop at the Lunch Creek cascade to take photos. As I did so, my son bounded over the rocks and was quickly out of sight.

He reappeared in a moment, pointing excitedly toward the massive stone shoulder of Piegan Mountain on the east side of the creek. “Let’s climb that mountain!” he begged.

We followed Lunch Creek toward Pollock Mountain, climbing stair-like rocks as the creek splashed down past us. Where the creek tumbles over a short cliff, we scrambled up a series of ledges that led away from the creek and toward the south face of Piegan Mountain.

Lunch Creek cascade, with Pollock Mountain as a backdrop

(To see this image in a larger view, click here.)

I was glad to have come up this far. From our vantage point, we could see the peaks of the Livingston Range to the west, and had a much grander view of the valley which sprawls in an emerald carpet from the foot of Reynolds Mountain eastward to St. Mary Lake. No way could we have seen it like this from Going-to-the-Sun Road two thousand feet below us.

This is the best way to see Montana, I realized—getting off the beaten path.

We turned back toward the cirque on the south face of Pollock Mountain. The downhill trek went faster than the upward climb. Before long, we found Lunch Creek and scrambled down alongside the falls till we were back at our SUV. We wasted no time in digging our lunch out of the cooler. Though we were both pretty hungry by then, I resisted the urge to inhale my sandwich, and took small bites while looking at the scenery and resting my tired legs.

“I just realized why they call this Lunch Creek,” I exclaimed as we ate. Corny, but it seemed funny at the time.

Summer Blossoms in Florida

I find it curious that, by June, the heat index in Florida has been in the 90s for a couple of months. Yet, it’s not until June that the crepe myrtles begin to blossom.

Having just purchased a new Nikon camera body and a macro lens, I braved the aforementioned heat index to capture some images of bees visiting the crepe myrtle blossoms in my yard. To view a full-size version of this image, click here.

I've taken many closeup shots of bees, probably because I haven’t been squeamish about being near them for years. About the time I bought my first Nikon body—an FE2—I spent a short time working for a beekeeper. After such an experience, one either loves or hates being close to bees.

Bee visiting crepe myrtle blossoms

However, I’ve had more experience shooting them in the northern states. For reasons known only to God, the little buggers move twice as fast in the South...or maybe I’m just getting older? Luckily for me, my new camera can capture many images in rapid succession, and I can delete the ones that miss the target.

Off the subject, my little bro Mike just returned from out West with some extraordinary images. Head on over to his website and take a look.

An Evening In The Killdeer Mountains of North Dakota

When I lived in western North Dakota, I became acquainted with Tim and Sally Dvirnak of Killdeer Mountain Outfitters, who gave me permission to take pictures on their property in Dunn County.

At the end of May, I spent a full day in the Killdeer Mountains. The area is quite scenic compared to other places in North Dakota, so I had plenty of great photo ops. But, as sometimes happens, I captured my best image at the end of the day, when I discovered a chain of beaver ponds.

A perfect evening in the Killdeer Mountains of North Dakota

To view this image in its full size, click here.

When I arrived at the largest pond, the sun was beginning to sink behind the aspens and bur oaks, and cast golden highlights on the pond. The surface of the water was smooth except for the ripples a lone beaver made as it swam across.

If you're interested in exploring the Killdeer Mountains yourself, contact Tim and Sally at Killdeer Mountain Outfitters.

— Gerald Blank