...is another man's famine, as the saying goes.

Thanks to a dome of high pressure stubbornly ensconced over this part of the country, the 2024 foliage season in Grand Teton National Park has perhaps left many landscape photographers feeling a bit hungry. Meanwhile, those who enjoy the place solely for recreational purposes have been feasting.

C'est la vie.

Mid-September brought significant, widespread precipitation accompanied by dipping temperatures: cold enough to decorate the Teton peaks in white. But that was just a tease; summer has since returned and is apparently reluctant to let go. The last two weeks have been "high and dry" with mainly clear blue skies and no rain. Boaters, hikers, and sightseers are loving it.

Ironically, after two successive autumns with muted color, the foliage this year has been wonderful. I won't lie: the fact that Mother Nature has produced such a high-quality show while making it so challenging to photograph is a little disappointing.

There have been additional factors to contend with, such as very low water levels at both Oxbow Bend and the Buffalo Fork, a tributary of the Snake River (the Bureau of Reclamation has a hand in the former, having reduced the flow out of Jackson Lake Dam), as well as construction at the Rockefeller Preserve which has closed trailheads leading to Phelps Lake. Also, more recently, smoke.

One has no choice but to make the best of it. In situations like this, a line from a long-ago Outdoor Photographer column comes to mind: What kind of photograph can you make given particular conditions?

I don't interpret that to mean every shoot must yield a successful image. Whoever wrote that did not intend to apply even more pressure to "produce something." Creativity can't be forced. Sometimes there are too many factors working against you; the smartest thing might be to put the camera down for a while and just enjoy the experience of being there.

Rather, "what kind of photograph can you make..." is a reminder to think more broadly. Take the blinders off. If you had expectations, let them go. Above all, try to avoid frustration, a guaranteed creativity-killer.

My first multiple-day shoot generated just a handful of seasonal photographs, some only subtly depicting the colors of autumn. Still, they were worth waiting for.

This is first light at String Lake. Some of the snow that had fallen a few days prior remained on the Cathedral Peaks, and the autumnal color is enhanced by the warm light. What made the image, though, was the mist hanging over the water, created by temperatures that early morning in the 20s. There were just enough high clouds to add some depth to the sky. This was the only time it wasn't completely clear at daybreak.

Another photo from that shoot was produced at an unlikely location: behind my campsite at Signal Mountain (in my opinion, the best place to stay inside Grand Teton National Park).

I'd intended to hike a trail above Jackson Lake's shoreline - sans camera - but noticed some cloud activity over Mount Moran. Having struggled with far too many days of nothin' but blue skies, I raced back to grab my gear. This image obviously has nothing to do with autumn, but that's okay. Remember: what kind of photograph can you make...?

By the way, the clouds were short-lived.

After four days it was time to pack up and head home. Since the color hadn't quite peaked, I was already thinking about returning. With high pressure firmly in control, though, I wondered whether there was any point. Each day the local meteorologist predicted the same thing: high and dry. Cloudless skies. Weather Channel and NOAA agreed.

I have an app, though, which begged to differ; it's called Clear Outside. If you aren't using this, download it. It's quite good. And free. Not infallible, obviously, but in my experience, closer to reality than other forecasting tools. On an hourly basis, not only does it forecast cloud cover (low, medium, high and total), but also wind speed and direction, fog, dew point, temperature, and chance of rain. In addition it indicates sunrise/sunset times and the phase of the moon.

Here's a screen grab from Tuesday morning, with Grand Teton National Park set as the location. You can see it's loaded with information (click to view larger):

So in spite of the fact that every other weather resource was calling for zero cloud activity, Clear Outside expected as much as 70% coverage from 7am until about 11am on one specific morning. It would be only a narrow window but that was enough for me.

Back to the park.

At 0-dark-30 on the day in question I saw nothing but stars directly overhead in the campground, but upon arrival at Oxbow Bend clouds were indeed faintly visible in the inky sky. I share the test shot below, made while it was still quite dark, simply to show you the sky. Not only were clouds plentiful, some of them contained rain. Score another one for the weather app.

I turned my attention to the fiery line of foliage to the west. Finding a composition would require some creativity: the water levels at Oxbow are extremely low (reduced flow out of the dam). I've never seen it this low in autumn. Then the breeze picked up. Not a day for big reflections.

As the darkness faded, it became obvious there'd be one more issue to contend with, something Clear Outside hadn't been able to forecast. Smoke.

The previous day, fire activity about 20 miles southeast of Moran Junction in Grand Teton National Park suddenly escalated. A lightning-caused blaze, the recently discovered Pack Creek Fire, exhibited extreme behavior and exploded in size from 450 acres to nearly 12,000 over the weekend (as of yesterday it's closer to 20,000 acres). The smoke plume was immense:

Clearly the impact on wildlife and the forest, the potential for property loss, and the safety of firefighters are far more important than the aesthetics of making photographs.

That said, air quality is a factor. A great deal of smoke from that plume had settled into the valley overnight before I arrived on location. It'd definitely be a consideration. I experimented with a variety of compositions both before and immediately after the sun rose and before the foliage was lit. Most omitted the water altogether, and I used the background haze as a tool to accentuate the foliage.

 After sun rises high enough in the sky to illuminate the trees, they glow with intense color. They look quite different.

Once they were fully lit, cloud cover briefly shaded the Tetons completely. The lack of illumination, coupled with the smoke and haze shrouding Moran, rendered the mountain as nearly a silhouette: interesting contrast between that and the brilliant aspens. Movement in the water "smeared" the reflection; the intense color seemed to be dripping downward from the trees. I included just enough of the river to accentuate the colorwash effect.

Jackson Hole on that morning was so consumed with smoke that visibility was extremely poor. It got much worse the further south I traveled. Clouds or not, it was time to put the camera away. I turned the car back toward Idaho Falls.

While the beautiful foliage in the park this year has been challenging to photograph, it's hard to consider spending time there anything but a positive. What one doesn't capture with the camera can still be enjoyed; the sights, sounds and experience of being there are, as always, etched in memory.