That moment when you’re shooting the full moon, eating a sandwich, and a piece of bacon falls out and you remember there’s a grizzly bear on the other side of the road. That was the other night on Mt. Washburn in Yellowstone.*
Twelve times a year I try to catch the full moon. It was close enough to full this month over the several nights that I was able to find it no matter where I was in the park.
*This was embellished for the sake of a good story. Neither me nor my bacon were ever in any danger. There was a grizzly far atop the opposite slope.