When I pick up a camera for a day of photography in a national park, I sometimes think about Dad, particularly if I am photographing in a location he himself captured so many years ago, prior to my birth or sometime thereafter.  You see, I come by my love of the art honestly, having inherited the photography “bug” from him.

Photographer In the making, Montana / John Latson

Dad started playing around with a camera as far back as World War II.  He continued working with cameras (his go-to was a Mamiya twin lens) after the births of two of his three daughters (1947 & 1951).  When the family moved to Columbia Falls, Montana (where I was born in 1961) he was developing his own black & white photos in the basement darkroom and was also beginning to work with color film and a 35mm SLR.

Dad and his camera during World War II / Photographer Unknown

The Latson family home in Montana / John Latson

Snowy mountains along Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Dad Loved (with a capital “L”) Glacier National Park and the land surrounding the park.  We lived about 20 miles away from the park and during the weekends, he’d either be rafting the North Fork of the Flathead River (the western boundary of the park), or be roaming deep within the park itself, sometimes with the family and sometimes without.  I think it’s because of this national park that he considered Montana rather than Texas to be his birthplace, and he would tell people he was a Montanan.

Plowing through Going-To-The-Sun Road, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Snow at the Logan Pass Visitor Center, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Dad loved to travel (I picked up the travel bug from him, too), and he and Mom would pack us girls into the trusty camper, sitting me in the crow’s nest where I would peer out upon the world (before the days of mandatory child seats and seatbelt laws).  Have camper, will travel.

The Latson family camper / John Latson

Inside the camper: all the comforts of home / John Latson

Ready to travel: Becky In the crow's nest / John Latson

I knew some of the places to which we traveled, but not all.  I didn't realize the extent of Dad's & Mom's national park camper trips until I began rummaging through the boxes and boxes of slides taken by Dad with either his Mamiya twin lens or Pentax SLR.  Note: NEVER store slides in a hot attic because it alters the colors and creates spots - Mom didn't know this but that's what happened when we moved from the cool dry climate of Montana to the hot, humid climate of Kentucky.

From these old slides, I chronicled the family's trips to Dixie National Forest, Carlsbad Caverns, Banff, Jasper, Yoho and Waterton Lakes National Parks.  They even took the Jasper National Park Athabasca Glacier tour that I eschewed this past April (but plan on doing when I next return to that park).  The family drove to Grand Canyon National Park when I was three years old.  I have no memory of that place, though, because Mom was deathly afraid to take me near the edge of a cliff for fear I’d fall off and kept a death grip on my little arm or shoulder each time Dad wanted a photo of all of us near the edge of the path overlooking the canyon scenery.  I really consider my 2009 visit to Grand Canyon National Park as my first visit, since I actually got to *see* the canyon. 

Family photo, Dixie National Forest / John Latson

Mom and my two sisters, Banff National Park (note the outdoor fashions of the day) / John Latson

Mom and Becky at the Prince of Wales Hotel, Waterton Lakes National Park / John Latson

Takakkaw Falls, Yoho National Park / John Latson

Mom and Becky at Grand Canyon National Park / John Latson

Dad viewing the scenery, Grand Canyon National Park / John Latson

The Athabasca Glacier tour, Jasper National Park / John Latson

Drinking from the Athabasca Glacier, Jasper National Park / John Latson

Summer at Lake Louise, Banff National Park / John Latson

Our favorite photos that Dad captured are of the snow ghosts:  trees caked with fluffy snow to the point that they didn’t look so much like trees as they did marshmallow-coated characters and castles and shapes from our imaginations.  Big Mountain near Whitefish was a favorite spot for snow ghost photography, with the mountains of Glacier National Park in the background.

John Latson in the snow on Big Mountain in Montana / Photographer Unknown

Snow ghosts on Big Mountain, with the mountains of Glacier National Park in the background,  I call this photo "Wilma and Fred talking to Barney Rubble"  - see the resemblance? / John Latson

But back to Glacier National Park.  Dad and his camera hiked many trails and many miles deep into the park during the summer, fall, winter and spring.  Sometimes, Mom and my sisters and I would accompany him for hikes or camping trips, but more often than not, he was hiking solo.  Terrible memories of the war continued to dog Dad throughout his life, and we think his sojourns into the park were a time for him to leave behind the mental baggage of the real world and to simply enjoy what Glacier National Park provided:  a place to breathe in the fresh air, observe nature, enjoy the mountains and capture it all on film.

Dad taking a break, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Granite Park Chalet, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Moose In the marsh, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Knock knock, anybody in there? Just checking the outhouse, folks. Glacier National Park / John Latson

Wild Goose Island and Saint Mary Lake, Glacier National Park / John Latson

A mid-1950's view of the Logan Pass visitor center parking lot, Glacier National Park (yes, the women wore dresses back then) / John Latson

Mom and sisters hiking toward Ptarmigan Tunnel, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Mom and sisters at Ptarmigan Tunnel, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Dad and sisters at Hidden Lake, Glacier National Park (note, Dad is holding his light meter which he took with him on every trip) / John Latson

Mom and a friend, Glacier National Park / John Latson

The view from the Granite Park Chalet porch, Glacier National Park / John Latson

Dad hiking the trail, Glacier National Park / John Latson

When I turned 9 years old, Dad accepted a job in Kentucky, far away from this national park he so loved.  By then, my oldest sister was married and gone, and my middle sister was in college out-of-state.  The day before we moved, Mom, Dad and I squeezed into Dad’s new little sportscar, top down.  I sat in the back, wrapped in a blanket and we drove one last time along Going-To-The-Sun Road with the cool mountain wind fingering through our hair.  With age comes wisdom (sometimes, anyway) and now I know it was bittersweet for Dad, but he needed to provide for the family and Kentucky afforded better prospects.

Discoveries mixed with memories of my family’s travels and Dad’s love of photography flood back each time I rummage through all those boxes of old slides pulled from my closet.  Thanks, Dad, for taking so many photos in the national parks you and the family visited (pre- and post-Becky). 

And Happy Father’s Day to all of you Dads out there, cameras in hand, ready to capture your own family experiences within a national park.

The Photographer, himself - a self portrait / John Latson