I woke up early Saturday morning and wanted to shoot a beautiful sunrise. It was my 60thbirthday, and instead of sleeping in I wanted to enjoy the beauty of the world I live in. I didn't want to drive far. It's been a long time since I've visited the south shore of Utah Lake. There are beaches lined with reeds and cattails. I thought maybe I could get an image of a spectacular colored sunrise reflected in the waters of the lake with Mount Timpanogos in the background. I've wanted to play with my heavy ND filters that would allow me to smooth the surface of the lake and create an impressionist surface of reflected light. The night before, I checked the Photographers Ephemeris and was happy to see that there was a good forecast for early morning color.

I drove south on I-15 for about 15 miles and then drove west into the flatland south of the lake. It was still dark when I arrived at the shore of the lake. I pulled off to the side of the road and noticed an unusually thick swarm of insects. I stepped out of the car and could hear a continuous buzz, like heavy static of power dancing on the power lines across the road. It was the buzz and vibration of a million insects. The bugs began swarming me and I felt I would soon be devoured. It was just now that I realized these were mosquitoes. Several weeks ago, there were headlines in our local news that the Zika virus was now detected in the state and along the Wasatch Front. Not wanting to become a statistic myself, I dove back into the car. As it got lighter, I became more and more aware of the millions of bugs that swarmed around me. I knew it would be bad news to walk down to the lakeshore. I had repellant with me, but somehow, I felt it would be useless against the millions of predators outside my windshield.

The clouds in the sky were beginning to catch an early morning glow from the rising sun. I decided to drive back towards the freeway and maybe find a scene in the farmlands of the south valley. As I drove back, I passed a column of swirling insects that resembled a tornado, maybe 30' high beside the road. There was no way I would step foot outside my car in this bug apocalypse. The further I got from the lake, the fewer the bugs seemed to be. By the time I was several miles distance from the shoreline, it finally felt safe to pull over, get out of the car, and set up my tripod. It was difficult to find a shot to the east and the mountains that didn't involve shooting through power lines. I crossed a side road that had the poles on the west side of the road and a clear shot to the east. The clouds were beginning to light up, so I pulled over, jumped out of the car, and quickly setup my tripod. It wasn't the spectacular shot over lake I envisioned. On the other hand, I wasn't skunked either.

It's been two days since I shot the above image. Luckily, I haven't detected a single bite from those brief few moments I was out of the car, on the side of the road, overlooking Utah Lake. I doubt I return to the shore of the lake until after the first freeze.