I've lived next door to the Tetons for nine years now. During that time, I have spent hundreds of hours with my camera in and around the mountains, particularly within Grand Teton National Park. 

Why do I continue to hang out there? Everyone knows what they say about familiarity: it breeds contempt. Apathy. Indifference. Boredom. Complacency. 

Certainly there can be some truth to this. But there's a flip side to that coin. If familiarity were nothing but loathsome, how would it possible to sustain long-term relationships with friends, spouses, siblings, and children? Why is it so good to get home after a long trip? And how do some nature photographers continue to produce captivating images in locations they've been visiting for decades?

Maybe there's something to be said for repeat visits to those stomping grounds we already know so well. 

Most photographers I know enjoy exploring new landscapes. However, unless you have very deep pockets and a great deal of scheduling flexibility, if you want to shoot regularly you're inevitably going to end up re-visiting places closer to home. (Of course you don't need a national park in which to make photographs - just locations you find interesting.)

With all due respect to the naysayers, there is plenty to be said for familiarity. With it can come knowledge. Understanding, Affinity. And great images!

Locations that are well-known to you might require extra mindfulness. It can be easy to overlook things when you're very familiar with an area. Details along that trail you've hiked umpteen times can become almost invisible. On some days, it might feel as is you've seen all there is to see. But if you slow down, allow yourself to get in sync with your surroundings, and make a conscious effort to notice things, it's amazing what you can find. 

Think how overwhelming it can be to work a new location for the first time. Exhilarating, yes - but a challenge, too. You tend to see things more superficially than you would if you were more familiar with the place. 

It's a little bit like peeling back an onion: over time, Grand Teton National Park has continued to reveal more of itself to me. As long as I'm willing to listen, the place almost always has something to say.

Another benefit that comes from familiarity with a location is the personal encyclopedia about it which you'll create.

Something catches your eye: you stop to inspect further. It has potential, but this isn't the time to make the photograph. The conditions aren't right, or maybe it's not even the best time of year. The idea goes into the encyclopedia. Over time a great deal of potential is accumulated: many interesting ideas just waiting for the right moments.

You get to know the personality of the place. You become acclimated to its quirks and acquainted with its microclimates; you witness how it responds before, during and after various weather events; you learn where the animals congregate and what type of behavior to expect from them. All of this information goes into the encyclopedia.

As this knowledge is accumulated, you're better prepared to react to whatever Mother Nature has gifted you on any given day.

The image posted above is one such example. I've carried this vignette around in my back pocket for years. Honestly, I think the first time this caught my eye was seven years ago. The idea interested me because with this composition I could depict a wide range of the park's ecosystems: the transition from the sage and other low vegetation which are acclimated to the arid, harsh conditions, to conifers, to a wetland, and finally to a riparian zone in the distance. Then of course there's my favorite mountain, Moran, anchoring the shot.

I slipped this into my personal encyclopedia a long, long time ago. The challenge has been how to pull the whole thing together in order to actually make a photograph. 

Last week I finally got the secret sauce I needed: an interesting sky, fantastic bands of fog, flat, even lighting on the vegetation, with a little bit of sunlight breaking through to create a strong focal point. 

That said, this isn't where I initially landed on that morning. Because it had rained the night before, I expected fog at daybreak, and got it. Even though I knew there was a risk there'd be too much of a good thing, I opted for String Lake, hoping to make a photograph as the fog was lifting. After waiting about an hour, the fog did begin to break; the mountains appeared as lovely apparitions, dancing in and out of sight, and I thought I might get what I was after. 

Just as quickly, though, the developing scene disappeared as even heavier fog blanketed the area. With rain on the way, I knew there was no point hanging around any longer. I love fog, though, and didn't want to give up on it. Away from the lake, I could see that the north end of the park was in the clear, so that's where I headed. 

While en route, the tips of the Teton peaks gradually became visible.

I knew where I'd have a good chance of scoring a great vantage point for fog, because that information is also in my personal encyclopedia of Grand Teton National Park. My ecosystem vignette happens to be located in that general vicinity. Bingo.

For me, familiarity is far from being a dirty word. It's what has made many photographs possible.

In Local News

Having made it through most of the summer without any local fires, our luck turned last week. The Fish Creek Fire in the Bridger-Teton National Forest, caused by lightning, was discovered last Friday. It's located near Togwotee Pass, not far from Grand Teton National Park. Huge smoke plumes are visible from the park, both sides of the Gros Ventre Mountains, the Continental Divide Trail, and from Jackson, Pinedale, and Dubois.

It is currently more than 6,100 acres in size, growing rapidly, and is 0% contained. 

As of last night, the corridor of Hwy 26/287 between mileposts 30 and 35 on Togwotee Pass is under notice to prepare for evacuation. This includes the Brooks Lake Lodge.

In other weather news, autumn is knocking at the door inside the park. An incoming cold front is bringing with it overnight temperatures in the low 30s and highs in the low 60s over the weekend. I saw lots of rabbitbrush beginning to turn yellow when I was in the park last week. 

It's coming!