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Photo of the Month–September

Thursday, September 1st, 2011

With September arriving, and–in the United States–Labor Day weekend marking the unofficial end of summer, it seems like people are beginning to turn their attention to the arrival of autumn.

If you’ve been in the high country, you’ve probably already felt the first hints of fall: crisp evenings, the smell of dry leaves, and the slow disappearance of monsoons are all things that–for me–mark the beginning of my favorite season.  Some of my fondest memories in the mountains are at this time of year.  And, while fall hasn’t quite come to the deserts and canyons yet, it will.  There’s nothing quite like laying out on a sun-warmed slab of sandstone on a brisk fall day.  Autumn really is the best time to be in the redrock wilderness.

This month’s image celebrates the transition from summer to fall.  A golden cottonwood leaf rests on clay soil that’s drying after a summer rainstorm.

Peaceful scene in Capitol Reef National Park

Transitional, August 2011

They say the sense of smell is mostly closely tied to memory.  For me, the smells of autumn are what mark its beginning.  How are your senses stimulated when the seasons change?

The need for wilderness

Wednesday, August 10th, 2011

Its my fourth morning waking up in the desert.  Red dirt fills my pores, and has combined with sweat to form a sort of “desert varnish” over most of my body–a strangely welcome feeling that instantly evokes memories of summer on the Colorado Plateau.   I climb out of my sleeping bag, fetch my tripod and camera and walk up the ridge.  Below me, a deer moves through the willows, startled no doubt by my heavy feet.  Moving further up the ridge and out of the shaded valley, the air warms, but last night’s rain has left the smells of dirt and sage heavy in the air.

I am slightly groggy still as I arrive at the viewpoint I scouted the night before.  The sun isn’t up yet, but will begin to break the landscape very soon.  I sit on a rock, surveying the sky–no clouds.  The rain had left me hopeful of a dramatic sunrise.  No luck today.  The distant cliffs begin to light up, bright sunlight working its way down the face, highlighting the subtlety in the elegant Wingate sandstone.   Sitting there, I smile…I’m home.

Describing the Colorado Plateau has always been incredibly difficult for me.  I think this is largely because we all know of its immediate beauty, but the subdued details only reveal themselves with time, after you’ve developed a relationship with the place.  Putting the place you love into words for someone who has never been there (or has been there) is not easy, whether its redrock wilderness, the Oregon coast, the brooks of Massachusetts, or the San Juan Mountains in Colorado.  The only way to experience it is to coat yourself in dust, sit there, and ponder the land.

The clarity and peace of mind that come out of a relationship with the land is the very reason we need wilderness.  Looking around, we see the world changing, at a rapid pace.  It dismays me but the fight to save wilderness will begin soon, if not in our generation, certainly in our children’s.  Not only must we fight to ensure proper the legislation is in place now, we must also foster this sense of place and belonging in our kids.  Thus, to quote Edward Abbey:

It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here.

So get out there and ramble out yonder, and make every moment count.

Sunrise on a ridge in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

Capitol Reef sunrise, July 2011

iFotoGuide: a review

Monday, June 13th, 2011

When I first began this blog, I took a much different approach than I do now.  I shared detailed trip reports, as well as processing ideas, and techniques I’ve learned from my own experimentation, as well as from other photographers.  While I still take a heavy interest in these subjects, the blog has sort of evolved and settled into a rhythm of its own.

This blog has become about place.

Sometimes, however, its necessary to discuss the process of finding those places.  A few posts ago, I wrote about the use of guidebooks, etc, to help guide photography trips.  While I don’t use guidebooks at a crutch for my creativity, I do rely on them, in the same way as I might rely on a friend to show me around a new area.  However, a well-written guide is tough to come by.

A few months ago, my friend Bret Edge and his collaborator Dan Baumbach began publishing several editions of iFotoGuide, an app available for iPod and iPhone, that guides photographers to many of the more photogenic locations in our national parks.  To date, they’ve published three editions: Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Arches national parks.   Bret offered me a download of the Grand Canyon edition, and I had a chance to try it out on my recent Grand Canyon visit.

main menu of iFotoGuide

Main Menu

When you first open up the App, you see a main menu with several options.  In addition to the location-specific options I’ll talk about in a second, a few that really stuck out to me were:

– The sunrise-sunset table. Even though I look up the exact sunrise and sunset times before I leave home, its sometimes nice to be able to look it up in the field.  The table they included in the App was extremely helpful.

– Additional resources. Because I’m so involved with the concept of ‘sense of place’ I very much enjoy getting to a place by reading about its ecology, history, etc.  This link from the main menu gives the photographer a whole host of references to begin looking for new and exciting reading resources.

In addition to these highlights, there is also a ton of information about the region of each park.  There are addresses and phone numbers for several hotels, campgrounds, restaurants, etc.  There is also detailed weather and general information about the parks.  For the traveler who gets stuck with a surprise, these resources could become invaluable very quickly.  Finally, iFotoGuide has partnered with several affiliates, providing the user discounts to their services as well.

The photography-specific resources are also top notch.  There is a comprehensive list of photo locations, organized conveniently and intuitively as ‘sunrise locations,’ ‘sunset locations,’ and ‘all day locations.’  In the Grand Canyon, one must rely on shuttles, and the directions to each of these locations also give shuttle information.  The locations are described accurately, and give suggestions on what might make effective compositions.  The authors also took the time to describe alternates to each location, since in the Grand Canyon, the popular overlooks are just that–very popular.

To me, the most unique asset of iFotoGuide is the interactive map.  What Bret and Dan have done is take the Park Service map (you know those), and they’ve put virtual “pins” in the map, on which you can click and get photos of a location as well as information about photographing that location.  I think this is super cool.  However, its also the root of my biggest (and really only) nit about iFotoGuide.  About half of the time I tried loading the interactive map, it crashed the App while loading.  I tried rebooting my iPod and the issue persisted.  I’m also not sure if its an OS issue (my iPod OS is pretty old).  At any rate, it did prevent me from trying to use the feature more than I would have.

To sum it up, the iFotoGuide is a well-written, convenient and super informative resource for the photographer.  And, at $4.99, it won’t break the bank.

Sunrise at Yaki Point, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Cedar Ridge sunrise, May 2011

 

The Grand

Tuesday, June 7th, 2011

I remember my first trip to the Grand Canyon in 1992–it was not only my first backpacking trip ever, but also my first memorable trip to a national park.  We went over spring break, in late March, and it was snowing hard at the South Rim when we arrived.  I remember being cold and wet the night before our hike began, being completely terrified on the icy (and steep) South Kaibab trail the following morning, and sweating as we walked into Phantom Ranch later that afternoon.  The rest of the trip was rainy, often very cold, and wet.

Despite all of that, I had a great time.  A funny thing happens after outdoor experiences like this one: we seem to forget all of the “bad” parts of a trip, remembering the good things.   Do the bad experiences really go away?  Not completely:  We learn from them.  As a novice backpacker, I learned several things about hiking in poor weather; I learned them the hard way, but I survived.

The thing that stuck in my memory more than anything else from that first trip to the Grand Canyon was the magnificence of the place.  The sheer drops, layers of sandstone, and of course the power of the Moenkopi-colored mud flowing in the Colorado River.  I’ve returned to the Grand Canyon more than almost any other national park.  During my first trip it was simply breathtaking; since then it has become breathgiving.

Vishnu's Temple at dawn, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Vishnu's Sun Salutation, May 2011

Since 1992, I’ve backpacked the Grand Canyon once more, and have camped on the rim multiple times.  Each time I say to myself, “Why don’t I visit more often?”  Yes, its packed with people, especially on the holiday weekends when I find time to visit, but there’s a magnificent peacefulness that surrounds it.    There are small pockets, places, you can go and hide, and despite the hordes, its almost as if you have this huge amphitheater to yourself.

Just like so many other geologic wonders on the Colorado Plateau, there really is nothing like the Grand Canyon on earth.  Although I’ve enjoyed it for 19 years, I just now have images of it.  Click the image or here to see the rest.

 

Wind Song

Monday, May 30th, 2011

If you have never listened to the wind, you should.  It can really have a lot to say.  This last week, it screamed, violently, through the midwestern United States, leaving a terrible path of destruction in its wake.

Some areas are known for their wind.  Medicine Bow, Wyoming (home of the Virginian Hotel, made famous by Owen Wister), for instance is one of the windiest places in the United States.  When I lived in Wyoming, a rancher once told me that the wind doesn’t blow 24 hours out of the whole year in Medicine Bow.  I’m not sure how true that is, but I do know that a still day is difficult to come across.  The wind’s constant howling through the rafters and windows of homes has driven people mad in Wyoming.  Although it can’t be stopped, it can be used.  Wind farms are becoming more and more common in the windy areas of the West as an alternative to coal-powered energy.

However, just as easily as it can destroy, wind can also be gentle, almost loving.  The wind is a vital component of the weather, moving storms the feed plants and animals alike.  The wind is a pollinator, and in polluted areas, it helps to clear the air.

Recently, on a quick trip out to Joshua Tree National Park,  the wind blew all afternoon, and it must have been really blowing in the upper atmosphere, because a breath-taking lenticular cloud formed over the park.  It dissipated before sunset, but these Parry’s Nolina (Nolina parryi) almost looked like they were dancing, sexily swaying their hips, in the late afternoon light.  You can see the tail end of the lenticular in the sky.

 

Parry's Nolina, Joshua Tree National Park
Wind Song, May 2011

The wind is definitely talking.  What do you hear?

Nocturnal

Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

After the grim nature of my last post, I thought I’d share some of the positive wildlife encounters that can be had in the desert.  Last summer, a friend and I discovered huge number of common poorwills (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) that roost on the roads in Joshua Tree National Park after dark.  As a kid I remember nighthawks–another member of the Nightjar family–that would swoop through the evening sky, scooping up insects with their oversized mouths.  So, the discovery of these poorwills was welcome and nostalgic.

 

A Common Poorwill (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) in Joshua Tree National Park, California

Common Poorwill I, May 2011

I assume the poorwills–which are ground-dwelling birds–roost on the roads for a clear view of the sky, and the insects they are hunting.  They fly upwards, grab their prey, and return to the ground fairly quickly.  They can also be quite tame, when approached by a car.  By getting out slowly and crawling on my belly with a short telephoto lens, I was able to get within about 7 feet of this poorwill before it flew away, letting me get a couple of intimate portraits.

One thing that’s evident here is the amazing camouflage these animals have–they blend in very well to their surroundings, making such an open roost probably quite safe.  In addition to that, you can see the large eyes (great night vision) and “feelers” around the mouth, to help locate prey in the very immediate vicinity.

With summer approaching, keep an eye out for these charming birds on the roads!

 

A Common Poorwill (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) in Joshua Tree National Park, California

Common Poorwill II, May 2011

In Memoriam

Monday, May 16th, 2011

This weekend, a friend and I made a last minute trip out to Joshua Tree National Park to search for photography opportunities.  After doing a short hike, we drove into the main park entrance about 5:30pm.  Although the temperature was starting to drop, the asphalt was still warm; it didn’t take long before we discovered this freshly road killed Speckled Rattlesnake (Crotalus mitchllii pyrrhus).  Its a species I’ve always wanted to photograph–just not like this.

Speckled Rattlesnake in Joshua Tree National Park, California

In Memoriam, May 2011

Its always somber to see road killed reptiles, but this was just the beginning.  Not five minutes later, we pulled a very badly injured (fatally, I’m sure) coachwhip (Masticophis flagellum) off the road, and over the course of the evening, we found a gopher snake (Pituophis catenifer), and a red diamond rattlesnake (Crotalus ruber) that had been killed earlier in the day.  It was carnage–easy to see why–with cars whizzing by us at 50-60 mph (25-35 mph over the posted speed limit).

Accidents happen, especially with fast-moving snakes like gopher snakes or coachwhips–they can jump out in front of a driver, with no hope of being avoided.  But, as my friend pointed out, there is no excuse for killing a rattlesnake in a park where the speed limit is 25 or 35 miles per hour.  They’re visible animals, and when following the speed limit, they can be avoided, largely because they are slow-moving.

April and May is peak camping season in Joshua Tree–the campgrounds are full, and people are everywhere.  Right now, that time of day is suicide for a basking snake.

To make it worse, the red diamond rattlesnake we found later in the evening was missing its rattle.  I hate to think about someone hitting the animal purposely to take the rattle (although I know of people who have done just that)–its a despicable act.  Even if a later driver stopped to take it, I wouldn’t want to be that person if a park ranger came down the road!

I know I sound like a real square with this post, urging people to stick to the posted speed limit, but after what we witnessed this weekend in Joshua Tree, its obvious that slowing down could really help to save some beautiful wildlife from needless deaths.

Saguaros in Sepia

Friday, February 4th, 2011

Hollywood and mis-informed artists.

Made the saguaro a Texas Icon.

But the saguaro only grows in Arizona.

Where people’ve got em’ out on their lawn.

The Reverend Horton Heat

Indeed, its true.  Often thought of as a symbol of the American West, the saguaro cactus (Carnegiea gigantea) is confined to the Sonoran Desert in southern Arizona, and southward into the states of Sonora and Baja, in Mexico.  However, despite its somewhat limited geographic range, the saguaro still symbolizes much of what we associate with the American West, like resilience and fortitude.  Saguaros can grow quickly, even in the hot, dry environment of southern Arizona.  On young plants, the spines can grow up to a millimeter a day.  In addition, they’re long-lived.  They don’t even start branching until they’re several decades old.

Even after their death, the skeletons of these magnificent cacti stand strong against the elements, preserved by the dry desert air.  I found a couple of cacti skeletons on a recent trip to Phoenix.  I thought the lines they made were artful, graceful, almost sensuous.

Saguaro Cactus skeleton located near Phoenix Arizona

Saguaro Skeleton I, January 2011

Detail of Saguaro Cactus skeleton near Phoenix Arizona

Saguaro Skeleton II, January 2011

Photo of the Month–January

Saturday, January 1st, 2011

Happy New Year!  I can’t believe 2011 is already here.  While my to-do list from 2010 hasn’t gotten any shorter, I’m very much looking forward to the new opportunities, friendships and collaborations that 2011 has in store.

Over the holidays, we visited family in central Wyoming.  While there, I had the opportunity to visit Devils Tower National Monument in the northeastern part of the state.  Devils Tower (yes, the apostrophe has been eliminated from the name) is an igneous intrusion that arose when the Rocky Mountains and Black Hills were uplifted, allowing volcanic magma to leak through the earth’s crust about 65 million years ago.  The tower is the result of that leakage.

I took this image on Christmas Eve morning; one of the coldest mornings I’ve ever done photography.  The temperature was near 0°F with high humidity; in the hour or so before sunrise I had frost forming on my camera’s tripod and lens hood.  My breath caused more frost to form on my ball head.  But, once the rising sun illuminated the tower, it made the very cold wait worth it.  I thought the setting moon was an added bonus here.

I hope you enjoy this image; have a great January!  Click here to see the rest of my images from Devils Tower.

Dramatic sunrise light illuminates Devils Tower, in northeastern Wyoming

Devils Tower sunrise, December 2010

In Remembrance

Tuesday, December 7th, 2010

We all know what happened at Pearl Harbor, HI on this date in 1941; the events of that day were a major catalyst in the United States’ involvement in World War II.  As a result of the Japanese bombing at the US Air Base in Hawaii, a hysteria ensued and  widespread distrust of Japanese-American citizens traveled across the country, leading to our government sequestering them in “internment camps” at various locations throughout the western US. Its amazing–almost unbelievable–what hysteria, distrust, and fear can lead people to do.

This memorial, made famous by Ansel Adams, marks the cemetary at the relocation camp at Manzanar, near Lone Pine, California, on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada. Mt. Williamson is in the background.

Monument at Manazanar National Historic Site, Lone Pine California

Monumental, October 2010