Blue Hour

The lifts had stopped turning hours ago and it felt like I had the mountain to myself as I ascended, the constant swishing noise of my climbing skins on the snow the only sound filling my ears. As I neared the summit I caught glimpses of the setting sun through the groves of “snow ghosts” - the name the locals give these trees when they are covered in rime during the frigid winter months - and moved quickly to catch the last rays of color from the top. Cold air rushed into my lungs as I breathed heavily and my fingers felt numb as I worked the camera buttons to capture this little piece of magic that formed in front of me.

Note: I am pictured holding a 16 X 20 inch print