On the other side of Stevens Pass Summit, the roads narrowed into a one lane WTF-drive-faster-you-slow-sh!t highway of sadness and pain, BUT on this particular day, it was okay to crawl: yellow, red, and orange hues caressed our eyes and sang us a lullaby, “Rock-a-bye Hungy on the treetop, when the wind blows, eat a cheeseburger.” Mmm… cheeseburgers.
The morning fog has yet to dissipate completely into the ether, lingering on mountainsides so grand. Parked cars littered the highway with turnouts available seemingly every half a mile. Silly photographers with their tripods formed an ad-hoc brotherhood with a mission to frame and capture the perfect fall foliage shot.
We joined them now and then, fully embracing the insanity that is landscape photography. At one stop, I sprinted across the highway, traversed the dewy high grass, and bounced around like a stag in search of colors. Why am I doing this? Have I lost my mind? A few snaps later and the answer was clear: I’ve lost my mind.