THE STORY. . . Most landscape photographers out there have their very own White Whale. It’s that one shot that keeps getting away from you, no matter how hard you try for it. In my case, the Maroon Bells have always slipped through my fingers for one reason or another (not enough snow, not enough leaves, not enough reflection, not enough you name it).

These legendary mountains have been photographed a million-bajillion times, so nothing I ever do will produce a mind-blowing contribution to the world of photography. Still, the hunt continues, and I find myself standing on the shores of Maroon Lake year after year. One of these days, Mother Nature might just throw me a unicorn. Until then, Moby Dick remains on the horizon, laughing at me through his giant White Whale blowhole. . .