ix AM, solo on the Vernal Equinox - I relish the anticipation of seventeen miles beneath a cloudless sky.
Steeply eroded tread leaves little time to admire the verdant scenery, and soon I descend into a lush canyon.
After lunch break and a dip in this brisk fork, I ascend the main stem. A stiff breeze wafts downstream, masking my scent as I approach her.
Quietly fording to the opposite bank, I remember the camera lashed to my waist strap.
Fatigued from ten miles underfoot, rapid escape is not an option. I can put up a good fight with this trekking pole if things turn sour, but come hell or high water, I'm getting a photo!
Knee-deep in cool clear water, trembling fingers take aim and press hard. The shutter stalls long enough to catch her in flight as she leaps to a rock midstream.
Up-wind and still unaware of her observer, she gracefully struts into alders on the far shore as I nervously back out of the water.
Just as my foot hits land, her ears twitch and she anxiously crouches behind driftwood, casting a glare that evokes equal helpings of fear and respect. For a seemingly eternal five seconds our eyes meet, the stream a welcome boundary.
As tensions near the breaking point, she beats a hasty retreat up a near-vertical bluff. Life hasn't been the same since.
The original photo
Detail of the photo - the lion leaps the creek
