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Falling Back

Tuesday, November 9th, 2010

“Its only one hour,” I tell myself twice a year.  And, two times each year my poor internal clock gets completely flummoxed by the time change.  I become an insomniac, get grouchy, and hit the snooze button way too many times all in an attempt to make up for that hour lost or gained.

Last Saturday a friend and I went out at dawn to a local wildlife area.  I knew it was my last day to get up and enjoy a late sunrise; the next morning the sun would come up at an ungodly hour again.  Unfortunately, there weren’t many birds flying, but the spectacular sunrise more than made up for it.

Being treated to a sunrise like this almost makes you forget about being a photographer, and just staring because its so darned beautiful.

Fiery Sunrise at Bolsa chica Wetlands near Huntington Beach, California

Fiery Sunrise I

Fiery Sunrise at Bolsa chica Wetlands near Huntington Beach, California

Fiery Sunrise II

Don’t get me wrong; I love being up to see the sunrise at any time of the year, but the week after the time change always murders me.

How do you deal with the time change?  If the majority of comments come in at 2am, I’ll know you’re also suffering from insomnia. 😉

Photo of the Month–November

Monday, November 1st, 2010

I’ve been invoking many of my favorite authors’ perspectives lately: Abbey, Pirsig, and now Frost.

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold,

Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

–Robert Frost

In choosing my November image of the month, a repeating thought I had was, “Wow, autumn seems to have just arrived…its already bending under the weight of winter in some places!”  In California, what seemed for many photographers to be a weekly rat race to the Sierra for fall color photography has come to an end; soon winter will take its extended, frigid hold on the mountains.  While it may seem like a long season ahead, it gives us time to breathe deep and take in the scenery a bit.

Fog moves into El Capitan Meadow on a January afternoon, Yosemite National Park, California

Winter sets in, January 2010

November’s image of the month comes from the final day of 2009; I enjoyed a very quiet and solitary few hours walking around El Capitan Meadow searching for images.  As sunset neared, fog started rising from the Merced River, filling the Valley floor.  This image is iconic, but really brings back memories of that afternoon.  Standing alone at the base of this magnificent monolith was the perfect way to end the year, and–I think–an ideal way to begin November.

Here There Be Witches*

Monday, October 25th, 2010

Although the main draw of autumn in the mountains is the beautiful show put on by (among others) groves of aspens, I think that bare aspens that have dropped their leaves carry a certain mystique as well.  Recently, while spending time in an aspen grove in the eastern Sierra, I noted this group of small trees that had already dropped their leaves.  I loved the interplay between the writhing tree trunks, the naked branches, and the shadows in the background.

A grove of bare aspen trees near Convict Lake in the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains

Spooky, October 2010

To process this image, I manually blended two images: one to accentuate the bright trunks and another to close off the shadows in the background.  I further increased contrast during black and white conversion using Nik Silver Efex Pro and cropped a small amount of the grass out of the bottom of the frame.

*This is also the title of a book written by Jane Yolen; I just thought the image really screamed “spooky” and the name was appropriate.

A path into thin air

Thursday, October 21st, 2010

“In the high country of the mind one has to become adjusted to the thinner air of uncertainty…”–Robert M. Pirsig

Late last week, we decided to take a last-minute trip to the east side of the Sierra Nevada to visit the beautiful fall colors.  Having grown up in the Rocky Mountains, my wife and I both miss the crisp air and changing colors of autumn.  We arrived in Mammoth Lakes late Friday night, and I was able to photograph sunrise at nearby Convict Lake the following morning.  Not only are the fall colors at the end of this image beautiful, but I love the textures present on Laurel Mountain, which is at the western border of the lake.

Sunrise at Convict Lake with Laurel Mountain in the background

Laurel Mountain alpenglow, October 2010

After shooting sunrise, I walked over to the aspen grove you see in the above photo.  These days, it seems like photographers go hand-in-hand with aspen groves in the eastern Sierra.  Some people might argue that the photographers outnumber the aspen trees!  The beautiful thing about this aspen grove was that although small, I had it completely to myself.  I was able to walk through the trees in silence, enjoying their beautiful show.

This time of year, the blogosphere is flooded with beautiful images of fall colors, however I have a confession.  Photographing these aspen groves is difficult for me; while beautiful, Sierra aspen groves feel “chaotic” to me, and making an original composition is difficult.  However, the quote that began this blog post applies to my feelings on my “dilemma.”  One of the best lessons to learn as a landscape photographer, in my opinion, is to not force compositions out of the landscape, but rather to let the landscape guide you.  In other words, when I found myself in this uncertain, chaotic situation, I had to let the landscape guide me, thinking outside of what I normally would do; that’s when the true creativity began to happen.

A path leading into an aspen grove near Convict Lake, Mono County California

Autumnal Path, October 2010

How do you let the landscape guide you toward compositions?  I’d love to hear what inspires you in the comments…

Detail of an aspen leaf in the Sierra Nevada

Aspen Leaf detail, October 2010

Aspen trees and staying close to home

Wednesday, October 13th, 2010

“In the first place you can’t see anything from a car; you’ve got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk, better yet crawl, on hands and knees, over the sandstone and through the thornbush and cactus. When traces of blood begin to mark your trail you’ll see something, maybe.”  –Edward Abbey

In my free time lately, I’ve been rereading Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire; if you haven’t read it, you should.   In going back through the book, I realize how Abbey looks at the whole landscape, not just the pretty view in front of him, but at every burr, thistle and spine.  He mastered the art of bringing the intimate landscape to life through his writing.

This weekend, while the hordes descended upon the “big show” of autumn color in the eastern Sierra Nevada, I stayed close to home by visiting a local aspen grove in the San Gorgonio Wilderness near Big Bear City.  To my knowledge this is the only aspen grove in southern California, and it brought a much needed respite to continued summer-like weather in the lower elevations.

We arrived early in the morning to a shaded canyon and very cool temperatures.  Walking down the trail to the grove, I could see the familiar golden glow Populus tremuloides ahead–a glow that brings memories of autumns in the mountains of southern Colorado back to the forefront of my brain.

Arriving at the grove, I took a breath of the sweet, familiar air present in an autumnal aspen grove and felt the cold bark of the trees.  “Yes, indeed, I needed this!” I thought, smiling.

The grove in the San Bernardino Mountains isn’t large, and because of the relatively low elevation (7500′) and–I suspect–the latitude, the trees hadn’t fully turned yet.  As a result, I chose to focus on the unseen aspects of the grove: the fallen leaves, and the trunks of these gorgeous trees.

A grove of aspen trees (Populus tremuloides) in the San Bernardino Mountains of southern California

Aspen Grove I, October 2010

Black and white seemed to suit these images well as there weren’t enough fallen leaves to really make the forest floor light up.  Converting to black and white made the paucity of leaves really jump out.

A grove of aspens (Populus tremuloides) in the San Bernardino Mountains of southern California

Aspen Grove II, October 2010

While I didn’t come away with the striking, colorful, images people usually associate with aspens, I take some solace in knowing that I found some intimate landscapes that Edward Abbey may have written about.  Indeed, this grove warrants many, many more visits.

Incidentally, David Leland Hyde (The Landscape Photography Blogger) also blogged about Edward Abbey this week.  Take a few minutes and check it out; its a fantastic blog and you won’t regret it!

Photo of the Month–October

Friday, October 1st, 2010

As I wrote in my last post, fall is on its way, and I’m remembering a busy summer in the Sierra Nevada mountains very fondly.  Before this summer, it had been many years since I’d been on a proper backpacking trip, and I had forgotten how many of the day’s activities revolve around water.  Boil water for breakfast.  Filter.  Hydrate at lunch.  Filter.  Boil for dinner.  Filter.

Water really is a central theme on any backpacking trip, whether in the wet Pacific Northwest, or in the dry desert.  On our last backpacking trip, the water at the lake we camped at was especially striking–a rich turquoise blue due to high amounts of glacial silt in the water.  While shooting sunrise, I wanted to get the beautiful sunlit peaks in the frame, but I also wanted to highlight the water, as it was not only beautiful but is so central to the day’s activities.

Because the trip I took this on was sort of summer’s “final hurrah,” I’ve chosen it as October’s Photo of the Month.  Enjoy!

sunrise over mt. robinson, john muir wilderness, california

Sunrise on Mt. Robinson, September 2010

Range of Light

Monday, September 20th, 2010

I’ll be the first person to admit that I don’t really fit in living in southern California.  Although I do commute to my day job, I avoid the commuter culture.  I don’t send text messages unless absolutely necessary.  My idea of high-end clothing can’t be purchased at Nordstrom’s or Bloomingdale’s, and I had no idea who Justin Bieber is until my friend’s 9-year-old daughter introduced me (I still wouldn’t know him if he showed up at my front door).  So, I don’t really fit in here.

Part of that is my fault too: I’ve avoided fitting in.  Perhaps I’ve been afraid I’d actually start to like it here if I let myself.  So it was when I was introduced to the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Within one week of moving to southern California, I was in a car with my new boss driving up the Owens Valley to the White Mountains.  There’s no doubt the Sierra is an impressive range, but was cautious to give it too much credit.

“How cliché,” I thought, “everyone likes the Sierra.”

“What could be so special about this place?”

Eight years have passed.  In that time, I’ve stood in awe at the base of giant sequoias and granite monoliths.  Some of the most amazing geology in the west has been right under my feet.  In 2010 alone, I’ve walked more than 100 miles in the Sierra backcountry, most recently my wife and I took our 2 1/2 year old son on his first backpacking trip to the North Fork of Big Pine Creek (aka the Palisades, or Palisade Lakes).

Sunset from Second Lake, John Muir Wilderness, California

Sunset, Second Lake, John Muir Wilderness, September 2010

We arrived at our campsite, high above one of the glacially-fed lakes about 5pm and set up our tent, and I went to filter water.  One of the most fantastic things about this time of year is that there are no mosquitoes.  I really can’t tell you how happy that makes me.  I got back to camp in time to see the day’s last vestiges of sunlight kissing the tops of the peaks to the north of us.

The following morning, I walked up to another one of the small chain of lakes in this area to photograph sunrise.  I’ve written before that I’m convinced there are no clouds in the Sierra.  My “curse” continued on this trip, with completely cloudless skies.  Alas.

Sunrise on Temple Crag, John Muir Wilderness, California

First Light on Temple Crag, September 2010

After shooting sunrise, I walked back to camp, and enjoyed a morning reading of “One Zany Zoo” and some oatmeal.  After breakfast, we were very sad to pack up and walk back to the car.  Its at that moment, looking up at Temple Crag and the Palisade Crest that it hit me.  This is the place where my son is learning to love the outdoors.  This is more than just a pretty mountain range.  As part of a generation who will be more likely to save trees by sending emails rather than going outdoors to climb them, his groundwork for a sense of place is being laid down right here.

With that in mind, its easy to see why John Muir was so moved by this Range of Light.

shooting photos with dad

"Babysitting", September 2010

Aspen Trunk

Friday, September 17th, 2010

Recently, I noted this aspen trunk, and thought that it would make a good vertical panorama.  Converting it to black and white using Nik Silver Efex Pro seemed to give this already graphical image the punch it needed to stand on its own.

Click on the image to see a larger version!

Aspen Trunk, Populus Tremuloides

Aspen Trunk, September 2010

Roots & Leaves

Wednesday, September 15th, 2010

I noticed this scene recently in San Diego’s Balboa Park.  (I think) these are roots and leaves Moreton Bay Fig (Ficus macrophylla); although there are larger trees like this in the park, this one was rather small.  The roots can become so large on this species that people can sit on them, or walk around in them.

Here, I liked the way the roots seemed to be creeping across the frame.  My wife said this image reminds her of autumn.

fig roots and leaves in balboa park, san diego

Underfoot, August 2010

What does this image make you think of?

(Mis)adventures in Joshua Tree

Friday, September 3rd, 2010

Last week, a friend and I headed out to Joshua Tree National Park to continue our search for kangaroo rats.  Also, partly due to the hot temperatures in the Mojave Desert (110°F+), we also were treated to some magnificent thunderstorms over the mountains and desert.  Indeed, it felt really good being back in some weather.  At times, thunder and lightning were within 1/2 mile of us, and I had forgotten how much I missed the smell of a summer thunderstorm.

A thunderstorm in Joshua Tree National Park, California

August Thunderstorm, Joshua Tree National Park, 2010

As the sun neared the horizon, I got what I had been hoping for: a magnificent sunset.  Even though the light show didn’t last long, it was one of my favorite times as a photographer: a state of suspended animation where time seems to slow to a halt.  It was one of those times when you almost forget to be a photographer and stare at the sky with your mouth open.

Dramatic, fiery sunset in joshua tree national park, califronia

Fiery sunset I, August 2010

Fiery, dramatic sunset in joshua tree national park, california

Fiery sunset II, August 2010

After the show ended, we started a drive through the park, hoping to find some critters along the road…kangaroo rats, snakes, toads, or anything else.  Indeed, we found something very interesting (and unexpected): Common Poorwills (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii).  Poorwills are nocturnal birds that roost on the ground, flying straight upwards to catch insects.  We found several Poorwills in a short distance and decided to use my car to drive close to them, hoping to photograph them.  It was at this point we added the “mis-” to our adventure.

In trying to get the Poorwills to cooperate, I had my car engine off for five minutes but left my headlights on.  Yeah, you can see where this is going.  Or can you?

After doing that, i started my engine and drove around for a few minutes.  I shut my engine off again a few minutes later (headlights also off), while we photographed a Poorwill along side the road.  However, when I tried starting my engine again, nothing happened.  It simply didn’t make sense, but I could only assume that I hadn’t run the engine long enough for the alternator to recharge the battery.  Maybe the starter motor had broken.  Whatever was happening wasn’t good–it was late (about 9:30pm) and we were not on the main park road.

We managed to get the car into neutral and to the main road.  After this, we waited.  It took about 1.5 hours for someone to drive by.  Unfortunately, he didn’t have jumper cables, and I had moved mine to my wife’s car only a few days before this trip.  The gentleman who stopped did offer to call our wives once he had cell service.  At least they wouldn’t flip out when they woke up the next morning to missing husbands!

My wife did call a wrecker, which showed up at our location about 2 hours later.  The driver gave us a jump start, and we were on our way, laughing about lessons learned, arriving home about 3am, without photos of kangaroo rats.

What does one do when waiting for help in the middle of the night?  This photographer takes photos.

night scene in joshua tree national park, california

Waiting for a tow, August 2010

Oh, and just to prove there actually was a nocturnal bird at fault for our misadventure, here you go:

Common Poorwill, Phalaenoptilus nuttallii

Common Poorwill (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii), August 2010