“You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometime you find

You get what you need” ~ Rolling Stones

This morning would have been better for a shot of the setting moon. It was a bit later with more daylight to capture both the details of the moon surface and the snow-capped peaks of the Purcells.
Last night I scoped out a location north of Radium on the Photographer’s Ephemeris (https://photoephemeris.com) to get my selected moonset view of the Purcells.

This morning at 05:30 as the first light of dawn broke over the Rockies and the full moon shone brightly over the Purcells, I headed north. By the time I reached Windermere, it was clear that the cloud cover was building and there would be very little chance of seeing the moonset. It was already running and hiding in the broken cloud to the west. I turned back. There was less cloud to the south around Fairmont.

The moon was only a few degrees above the height of land as I set up beside the pond at Riverside Golf Course. It was beautiful and I hoped to get the reflection in the perfectly calm surface of the pond. Then a cloud drifted in and parked itself above the ridge. “Patience,” I told myself. “Be patient, the cloud will move. It will!”
Then a duck swam across the pond creating multiple tsunamis upon its previously mirror-like surface. “God damn it duck,” I thought. “Why now?” Meanwhile, the clouds above my head were truckin’ along. I was hopeful. I looked again at the slow-mover above the ridge. There was a slight gap forming. I could see the light of the moon. The cloud was drifting perceptibly south. Hope springs eternal. The duck finished its laps and paddled quietly near the far shore. The tsunamis abated. “This will work out,” I told myself. “Be patient!”

The cloud stopped. It even seemed to reverse but that was an illusion of course. It actually grew fatter. A big fat cloud parked illegally between me and the setting moon. I knew it had set. I accepted defeat.

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy! ” whispered Robert Burns from the grave.

“Shut the hell up Burns,” I said aloud. The duck, startled by my disrespect for Scotland’s poet, took another lap. More tsunamis ensued. “God damn it duck,” I said.

Then to the south-west I saw a sliver of pink in the sky. The sun was rising behind the Rockies. Of course it was! “This isn’t over yet,” I told myself. “Be patient!”

As is so often the case, I didn’t get what I wanted, but I got what I needed. Thanks Mick!

My Morning Adventure with Robbie Burns and Mick Jagger

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