When Van Morrison penned Into the Mystic back in 1970, I’m almost certain that mountains weren’t really on his mind. After all, the song is about a sailor coming home after a long voyage to his wife. Even so, when I am out hiking, this song is often included in my “sunset” playlist that I listen to during the evenings. The ethereal sound makes for easy listening and really helps connect me with the beautiful scenes unfolding.
I’m no songwriter but for me, the “mystic” in the song can be described as the “unknown” or perhaps the future. The place we all sail off into as we live our lives. This resonates with me every time I head out for some photography, never quite knowing where I am going to end up or what I will see along the way.
One of the most important parts of photography is going, though. You certainly can’t take a good landscape or nature photograph from your couch, it requires heading out. I make it a point to go out, even when other people are very much content staying inside. I take the old saying, “there’s no such thing as bad weather, just inadequate clothing,” to heart.
Oftentimes this attitude gets me outside, not so much in the “mystic,” but it does take me into the mist.
Rain and fog is one of the best times to get out and take photos, albeit a very miserable one sometimes. I can’t count the number of times I have headed out to popular hiking trails in the middle of a summer thunderstorm and passed plentiful cars headed back home. This time of year, you can often find yourself above the clouds at higher elevations. Places like Brasstown Bald can sit high above the sea of fog during strong wedges, and along the Blue Ridge north into North Carolina and Virginia, the same can be seen, as in this photograph I captured on a 42-degree afternoon in May from the Blue Ridge Parkway.
As an avid photographer of waterfalls, I love seeing them at elevated flows after hard rains. I took this photo of Linville Falls in North Carolina, standing under an umbrella. The river was around 4ft higher than normal at this point, and it is the only time I have ventured to the base when the flow was so high.
Arguably one of the best parts about “bad” weather is what comes afterward. For the better part of the last decade, I have spent quite a bit of time chasing rainbows. I’ve been fortunate to witness a hundred or more from all across the Southern Appalachians. My favorite came this year, though, when, after what most would consider far too many attempts, I finally managed to get fall leaves and a rainbow in the same photograph. This was one of those trips where I passed a ton of cars headed back toward town while I was driving uphill in a downpour.
My favorite thing to do, though, is to catch a sunset behind a thunderstorm. The greatest sunset I’ve ever seen came on the heels of a thunderstorm. That wasn’t the only one. The fog that often forms near the ground behind spring and summer storms usually results in a spectacular sunset for someone, you just have to get a little lucky to wind up in the right spot.
The photo that inspired this week’s post is one of those.
I found myself on this particular evening at my favorite sunset spot during the middle of Catawba Rhododendron season. A small gap formed on the horizon, allowing the low clouds above the fog to get lit up pink. As I watched and photographed this beautiful scene I certainly felt like I was going headfirst “into the mystic.”
So, next time it rains, instead of staying inside, take it as an opportunity to head outside and see the world in a different way. Who knows, you just might find yourself solidly in the mystic.
