Framed by the three elevators lined up along the town's main street, it looked like a point of light. Through my long lens I could see craters and what looked like vast dusty plains on its surface. As the sun set and the brightness of the day drained from the sky I could see it even more clearly. A bit longer lens and it felt like I'd be able to see the Apollo astronauts' footprints.
I drove on into the gathering dusk to try to take some pictures by moonlight.
The sun had set and a long twilight began as I drove east through Arrowood and on past Shouldice and Queenstown. I saw deer out on the fields in the deepening blue light and came across a rubbish fire burning behind an old farmhouse. It was kinda pretty, the orange glow of the flames rising behind the smoke into the indigo sky.
I hit fog patches at Milo, but I could see the glow of the moon through the mist, so I headed back north again toward Cluny and just before Blackfoot Crossing the sky cleared again.
But it had turned cold. The fog had marked a demarcation between warmer air to the west and a band of cold to the east. My mirrors fogged and I had to crank the heater a couple more notches to keep comfortable.
Bands of cloud covered swatches of the sky now but the moon still shone through and lit the countryside with a soft glow. The whiteness of the snow kicked the light around and there were coloured specks of Christmas lights on farmhouses. I turned off the highway to check out Bassano dam by moonlight.
I drove slowly along the snow-covered roads leading to the dam and watched the countryside slide by in the silvery light. A couple of times I stopped and shut off the truck just to listen. A train was coming from somewhere to the west and I could hear the rumble of the engines long before I heard it sound its horn at a crossing. A dog barked somewhere off in the distance.
There was probably a 20-degree difference between here and the city and the cold filled the truck as I drove along with the heater off to avoid warm air ripples when I stopped to take photos.
By the way, if you decide to drive in the country by yourself on a dark, cold winter night, don't listen to any audiobooks of Stephen King stories while you're doing it. I had 'Salem's Lot going and there were a couple of times when I could have sworn I saw something move just on the edge of the headlight's reach.
Mist was rising from the open water below the dam and swirling in the yellow sodium lights of the spillway. The moon had gone behind a band of thin cloud but most of its light still made it through. The combination of light and sodium vapour lamps gave the frosty cottonwoods and sagebrush a lovely glow.
I could hear geese down on the river calling up from the dark and a light wind generated by the moving water shook the frosty sage. But it was cold standing there waiting for the camera to finish its long exposures. I headed back west again.
I passed back through the fogbank near Crowfoot Creek -- another Stephen King shiver at that -- and was back into warmer air by Gleichen. I paused for more pictures on Hammer Hill.
This time the moonlight was undiminished by clouds and the long exposures rendered an almost daytime look to the scene. Had the horses I was shooting known to stay perfectly still for 15 seconds it would have looked like mid-afternoon. Well, except for the stars in the sky. Moonlight is just reflected sunlight so even though it looks blueish, it actually has the same colour spectrum as daylight.
I drove on toward the city under the light of the last waxing moon of the year. It would have been in its full glory on New Year's Eve just a couple of days later, but the forecast called for clouds and snow. This would be the last moonlight of 2009.
Not a bad way to end the year, driving in the country with the moonlight's silver sheen. But what's that just on the edge of the headlights? Something moving. Something with very sharp teeth.
Just a coyote trying to outrun me. I slowed until it turned off into a field. Maybe next time I better listen to a Christopher Moore audio book. Coyote Blue, maybe?
Welcome to 2010.
MIKE.DREW@SUNMEDIA.CA
Skiing is believingFor your own safety, stay alert and away during snow-removal operations!
