Barefoot in Chilly Waters
Right Place, Right Time
I’ve been going camping at my parents mountain property my entire life. Possibly hundreds of times as a child. Many of which I have no memory of. My visits as a teenager, felt more like a punishment. As an adult I’ve made only a few trips there with my own family.
The weekend before my 34th birthday, I drove up the mountain alone for the first time. Before leaving home I grabbed my camera I had bought from the pawnshop six months before, that I still hadn’t gotten a chance to use. I’d always had a love for photography and was taking an online photography course to learn the functions of my camera.
After visiting with my mom for a couple days, I was preparing to head home. My sister had recommended a short hike that I planned to stop at. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try out my camera. My expectations for any good photos were very low, due to still not fully understanding all the settings and functions on my camera. Needless to say, I was still very intimidated.
I thoroughly enjoyed the short hike and the waterfall at the end was beautiful. I even felt as though I got a couple nice shots.
But I wasn’t done yet.
This being my first time driving down the mountain alone. I decided to pull over and explore. I had never known what was just off the road I had been on hundreds of times before. I made four stops within the 30 miles to the bottom.
One stop I made, I was shocked to find a stream flowing through a tunnel literally feet from the road. I had never known it was there.
The water was from the melting snow therefore very, very cold. I tried to navigate my way up the tunnel, but my shoes were making this difficult because I was trying to keep dry at this point. I decided to go barefoot. I removed my shoes and tied them to my belt loops with the shoelaces. Therefore I still had use of my hands. I rolled up my pants and stepped into the chilly water.
As I made my way out the other side of the tunnel my feet started adapting to the cold water.
I continued upstream and caught a glimpse of a large butterfly which initially I had thought was black. I immediately knew I wanted to get a picture of this butterfly.
I spent the next hour stalking, and creeping along, back-and-forth in a small section of the stream. I watch. I waited. At one point I saw a group of four butterflies fluttering past me and somehow I took it as a sign. I was going to get my picture. My patience was reset and I continued to wait.
Then it landed.
But as I slowly started creeping towards it, it flew away. When it came back around, it was almost as though it was teasing me. Circling my head, I thought it was going to land on me. Then it flew away and came back to circle around my head again. Flew away and then came back and landed on the log next to me.
Needless to say, I got my picture! And it was totally worth my very cold, red, and wet feet
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