We stopped for gas on the way to the next and last hotel. Sitting in the car, waiting for Dad to fill up the tank, I saw a damaged sign and the inescapable volcano through the window. I was compelled to put the one within the other. The tractor-trailers are patiently waiting outside of the hotel, the volcano is patiently towering over all around it. It's the late evening, it's quiet and calm here.
An operator of one of the big rigs asked me if I got his in the shot. He was stocking up on snacks at the gas station. I told him I did and that it looked great, though he never specified which was his. I never asked.
A gas station employee said I could get a better view up a road around the corner. He was correct. It was a clearer, better view there, but also one that made a lesser photo. No image would capture the breadth of the view or the effect of the looming landscape. It's impossible to show scale from a position like that. The buildings in the valley are so small at the distance I was from them. Still, it's hard not to try to make a shot happen. Mount Rainier begs to be shot, interacted with in some way. Its presence is so large, when I look at it, I hear it. The sound is a steady minor dirge, like loud low, bassy brass and gusting wind in my ears.
I am envious of the owners of the houses along the ridge and their view of the valley.