Archives for July 2021

When it comes to images that represent large, round numbers, I seem to have developed a pattern, where I have in mind that the next threshold is coming and, well, I get too carried away with the camera and only figure it out afterward. That leaves much to chance, like my 500,000^th image, which was of a domineering, sexually perverted cow that had dubious intentions.

Normally, if I had planned well enough to choose an image that would be eminently demonstrative of my style, I would end up with a resplendent mountain image that is like drinking from a firehose: mountains as high as can be, as far as the eye can see, chock full of glorious alpine goodness. In this case, it didn’t quite turn out as I would have chosen, so, without further ado, I present the 600,000^th image that I have taken:

The image was taken just above Trümmelbachfälle, near Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland. It is beneath the Schwarzmönch peak, which is on the flank of the Jungfrau. Had it been sunny, one could crane his or her neck (or tip the airplane over), noting the Jungfrau staring down from a mile and half above. Alas, it was a foul weather day, so that was not to be.

One might ask what I was doing wedged into a steep valley deep in the Alps on a day where the weather was quite evidently marginal. It all started with a business meeting that I needed to have. An associate was in Zürich from the United States, and we intended to meet in the most convenient way which, as further investigation revealed, was anything but convenient. We settled on the fastest compromise: he would ride a rather fast train to Bern airport, and I would fly there.

After discussing business, we had to go flying. Standing at the airport, it was partly sunny to the north over the Swiss Plateau and darkly menacing to the south in the Alps. I pointed to both options and said: “You can have sunny Swiss farms to fly over, or the Alps with scary looking clouds.” “The Alps.” That resulted in this elaborate pre-flight briefing: “if we crash and I am dead, but you’re not, do the following. If we flip over, then take the ELT out. If….” “Has it ever happened before?” “No.” “Let’s go.” Oh, to be 30 again.

The flight itself was pretty basic. Bern to Interlaken, up the Lauterbrunnen valley, then Grindelwald, then into “the Cathedral,” a personal favorite, and back. I hadn’t ever done such a thing in these weather conditions, as it would involve flying west, north out of the Alps, east, south, into the Alps, then reversing it, owing to the fact that such foul clouds over the Oberland block a straight west to east flight to this area. Given the risk and fuel concern, it would be fallacious to undertake such an idea on a marginal weather day. Enter in the stop in Bern, where I could re-assess what I was doing, as well as refuel before heading back, and it worked out.

I tried to go straight back into the Oberland for the return flight and, well, 90 minutes after having flown in that section of the hills, it had turned into IFR and heavy rain, so I followed my steps over farmland, over the Röstigraben to the French speaking side, and then up the Sarine River valley back to the airport. I can chalk it up as one of the handful of times that a meeting or errand has been more efficient in the Cub than other means.

Thunersee and Interlaken.

Interlaken. It is much more fun to say it with a Berner Oberland accent.

Heading into the valley of death (to the right). Brienzersee to the left.

Lauterbrunnen. Image number 600,000 was taken in the ravine to the left. Resplendent weather.

Murren to the left (on the ridge) with Lauterbrunnen village on the center right. Piz Gloria, the filming location for “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” is located well above in the clouds on the left.

Grindelwald below, with the entrance to “the Cathedral” in the upper middle right.

We went into the Cathedral. Obers Ischmeer.

Waterfall coming off of Ischmeer.

Ischmeer.

On the way out of the Valley of Death.

Interlaken again.

Thunersee and the Oberland to the west.

Spiez. Within an hour, it would be heavy rain and IFR here.

As glacier season approaches, I find myself with a pent-up fury, ready to attack and….it is not quite time. My goal is to get every last glacier in the Alps this summer, which is a 50/50 proposition. The largest are done, though quite a few are strewn over a very large surface area, although they are not as long or high as the ones already photographed. A wrinkle in my plans is not always knowing exactly where remaining glaciers are, which requires some excess of wandering around in cirques, bowls, and deep valleys in an old plane to find out what is there.

An ideal glacier photograph is an ideological perversion. The best-looking photograph of a glacier is when it is melting and receding, as seasonal snowfalls are excoriated from the glacier, showing its history in plain view. If it is showing its history, that means the history is melting.

2018 and 2019, my first summers frolicking amongst alpine glaciers, were relative infernos, with prodigious amounts of glacial melt, setting the standard very high for what I expected. As an example, the below 2018 image of the Aletschgletscher is a great point of reference for what I have grown to expect:

Aletschgletscher, 2018 – How I have come to expect glaciers to look.

2020 featured an August snowfall that ruined the party just as it was getting started. I was able to incrementally stab at some glaciers, though a combination of a recent extended maintenance downtime, lackluster glacial views, a pandemic, and the fact that I hadn’t yet declared war on all remaining glaciers on earth meant that the bull in heat aerial attack was more like a peacetime underfunded training maneuver.

Add the birth of the Global Glacier Initiative last winter, and, well, things are getting tense as I wait for my limited annual window to go on the attack. A recent flight to Zermatt furnished a false indicator that the season had begun. A July snowfall put an end to that idea, though it is looking like the glaciers of the southern Alps, in Italy and France, might be calling.

Matterhorn with Matterhorngletscher below. While snow covered, it is showing itself well.

Zmuttgletscher in the foreground, devoid of snow. Most of the glacier is covered by rock detritus, though it is in plain view. 

Tiefmattengletscher, beneath the Matterhorn, partially uncovered.

Gabelhorngletscher, mostly covered except the faces.

Bisgletscher, showing enough.

Riedgletscher, with the tongue fully uncovered and the rest of the glacier still seasonally obscured.

Glaciers beneath Mönch and Jungfrau. At first glance they appear exposed, as the only seasonal snow at the lower reaches is on the glaciers. That is due to the fact that the glacier is rather cold and snow takes longer to melt. Still a 50/50 proposition for photography.

I exuberantly decided it was time to head into the Valais and Italy to get a few glaciers on the eastern side of a range that I had missed, owing to flying in the afternoons when it was shadowed. Unfortunately, recent rains were snows at high altitude, so the images were not ideal. Glacier de l’En Darrey.

Glacier de Tsena Réfien. Even the rocky tongue has snow on it. Phooey.

Glacier du Giétro. One can understand why annual snowfalls render the inherent sophistication of this glacier moot. It was such flat light I couldn’t get a perspective of how high above it I was. Grand Combin lurking behind.

Tongue of Glacier du Brenay, also partially obscured. 

Glacier d’Otemma usually does not disappoint.

A pile of snow hiding the Glacier d’Epicoune.

Glacier du Mont Braoulé, Italy. I only knew it was a glacier because I saw it on the horizon in September 2020 while on a mission to get other glaciers. I made a note to “get it next year” and, well, it doesn’t want to be gotten yet.

Évidemment, a glacier presents well in spite of snow cover if it is quite textured, crevassed, and steep. Glacier des Grandes Murailles, Italy.

Haut Glacier d’Arolla, Switzerland, with the tongue still covered.

Not so bad. Glacier de Tsijore Nouve. There is still ice beneath the rocky surface at the base.

Glacier du Croissant. Oddly, I did not find any croissants there.

Glacier du Valsorey. Another one that fell victim to flying too late in the day.

Les Diablerets, with a small glacier in the clouds. There is a refuge in the center right, just at the edge of the snow field, that was literally covered over its roof in snow in January.

Decided to do the whole Mont Blanc thing. It was squalidly hazy, so the goal was to get above the clouds to get above the haze. On the way, the Glacier du Trient. Most of the plateau will stay snow covered all summer, so presentation is getting reasonably as good as it will for this kind of glacier.

Glacier d’Argentière, France, with Mont Blanc sneaking behind the clouds and the Aiguille Verte hiding inside them.

Mont Blanc. What else is new? It looks like this year round, owing to elevation. What is useful is the view into the Maritime Alps and Italian Alps on the horizon, where I get a clue that in a week or so, I ought to head that way. 

Clouds. They ruin everything for glacier photography.