There are a least four to five more blogs in the works—the last will be an epilog summing up our statistics, experiences, and feelings about our five and a half month celebration of our 80th birthdays. (We have another milestone in our young lives coming up this year: the celebration of our 60th wedding anniversary over the weekend of September 5th – 7th) [Yes, it’s true, Jean was not “of age” when we were married, but that’s another story—a very interesting story, but one for another time.]
But I digress. If you remember the last location was Scotts Bluff, blog #145.9/20 “A Lighthouse on the Oregon Trail.” There, we weighed the alternatives of a side trip down to Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park at Estes Park or to shoot directly west across Wyoming on I-80 toward Salt Lake City. Although the weather predictions were threatening, we took a chance and headed south for the Park. And this is where we resume our blog.
In mountain parks one always looks for the large mammals. By this time, at the end of September, the bear and sheep were cozy in their winter homes; but the elk were out attracting attention from the few remaining visitors.
On the road into Estes Park,the tourist center for
Rocky Mountain National Park
Moraine Campgroundwas the last one open in the Park.
At the edge of the 8,000 ft. elevation valley, we could see elk through the trees.
Joining the line-up, we started shooting the seemingly unconcerned elk.
“Where are they?”
“There they are! Get out your longest zoom.”
The male guards his harem.
The bugle cry, warning to other males.
“There are too many of these smelly carson the trails these days!”
We had a foretaste of the fall color to come.
