With that, grandma and I bee-lined it to the stairs that led down to the river. The rickety stairs were marked with a bright red “NO TRESPASSING” sign, and the river was already deafening.
“Are your legs healthy enough to bring ya down here?” I asked my grandma over the sound of the river, knowing her legs occasionally went numb due to some neurological issue, “They’re pretty sketchy.”
“Oh yeah…” my grandma brushed me off, “I’ll be fine, especially with this railing here.”
“You can grab ahold of me if you need.” I offered.
“Oh, no. You go right ahead. I’ll meet you by the river!”
“Alright, then.”
My grandma went down those stairs with little trouble while I skidded down ahead of her. I first glanced up at the 200-foot-tall Douglas Firs, not just to admire the trees, but to make sure no bears or mountain cougars were up there waiting to pounce on us. Then I moved to the rocky banks of the river and my heart filled with excitement as fast-moving water roared past with such speed that I could feel its breeze.
Those waters were definitely way too swift to stand in and fish from, so I didn’t feel bad at all about not having my fishing gear or my fishing license. I did, however, have my camera and a filter to take long-exposure pictures of the moving water.
Aside from the breeze generated by the waters, there wasn’t a puff of wind. That made it perfect to take seconds-long exposure shots of the water moving past, while the trees and camera stood still.
I set my bags of gear down on the rocky, river-washed beach, and set up my tripod and camera to face a dead Douglas Fir stump directly across the water. Then, I put a filter on my 55 mm camera lens to darken the light so I could take seconds-long shots of the water as it rushed by. Finally, I connected a remote to my camera, took my seat on a smooth granite boulder nearby, and started clicking the remote to take multiple, 20-second-long exposures of the Elk river.
Meanwhile, I could hear and see my grandma exploring the beach further, keeping an extra eye out for any wildlife that may be around. As soon as I was done taking a set of pictures, I decided to join my grandma in exploring the rest of the beach. As quickly as I had it set up, I had my camera put away and slung over my shoulders. But just before I scrambled my way up some rocks, I heard a strange cracking noise coming from upriver.
Chills shot up my spine as I wondered what could make such a tremendous noise that not even the river could drown out. My mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario: a mama moose charging at us through the trees to protect her calves from us. But before I could panic (yet again), I noticed a full-sized Douglas Fir coming down the rapids, crashing over rocks and smaller logs that had piled up along the shore.
“Wow! Look at that!” I heard my grandma call from the rocks above.
Meanwhile, I just stood still in awe of this massive log as it passed by almost as fast as the water. It was closer to the other side of the river, so I wasn’t in any danger of being wiped out by it. Still, I could hardly believe what I was seeing. All I could do was stand on the shoreline astonished by the power of the Elk river in the springtime, while being glad I was standing on dry ground.
That was until the floodgates in the sky burst open, and began spitting heavy, wet sleet on us. Oh well… it was getting close to dinner time anyway.
Here, I removed my Theology discussion with my grandparents, and jumped immediately to after dinner to keep the tone as-is.
