When Your Eye is at the Waterline...

For years I wanted to coin a quotable phrase of philosophical insight; the kind of phrase like Murphy’s Law, “If anything can go wrong, it will”,  or “Don’t put off tomorrow what you can do today”, or even “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’. I wanted to have my name attached to some memorable quote that would be known perhaps as Handley’s axiom. I pondered on this for months with no satisfying results. As hard as I might try, I couldn’t formulate an original phrase. And then one day right out of the blue, there it was, the result of an extremely trying situation, which had engulfed me. I was under tremendous pressure at work. I was feeling stress at home because of work. Nothing seemed to be going right and I felt I was sinking. The pressure was so intense in fact that it impaired my vision of seeing the end to my problem. I was not able to make an offensive plan because of my defensive position. My outlook was grim because my perspective was shallow. I couldn’t “see the forest for the trees”, and there was “no light at the end of the tunnel”. And that is when the words fell- “When your eye is at the water line, your horizon is not very far off” - what an odd quirky thought. I kind of liked it, and even though I was still stressed and “going under for the third time”, I had to take a few moments and think- when your eye is at the water line, your horizon is not very far off. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself because I knew I had it. I remember at the time that it didn’t really help me out of my then current situation, but it did bring me some degree of satisfaction knowing that I finally had the long sought quotable quote. So, what was I thinking and feeling at the time, how have I developed this thought? Honestly, it did nothing for me at the time except create an image of myself bobbing in the water, head half submerged in a great pool of stress and self-pity. I wrote the thought on a sticky note on my computer screen at work and there it sat for many years. Most of the time I don’t see it because I am used to it being there. But every once in a while, I will clear off my workspace or rearrange my desktop and there I find it and I remind myself, I really ought to figure out what it means.

In the early morning without a breath of wind, the surface of the lake creates perfect reflections of the distant mountains.

How does one establish a horizon line? Once in an art class I learned that the level of the viewer’s eye determines the horizon. In other words, if I am six feet tall, the horizon I look at on a flat plane is about six feet high.  My grandson Gunnar, on the other hand is only about three and a half feet tall- his horizon is about three and a half feet high. How can I change my horizon, to increase my perspective? I can climb a ladder, go up a mountain, or fly in an airplane. From the top of Mt. Timpanogos, I can see from the Salt Lake Valley over to the Uinta’s, down south to Mt. Nebo and over to West Mountain and beyond. By physically raising the level of my eye, I am able to increase my perspective. What is the opposite of this perspective? What is the lowest level I can place my eye and diminish my perspective? I guess it would be to place my eyeball on the ground- not a very easy or comfortable thing to do. That is where I developed a more plausible method to diminish that perspective, by placing myself in the water and sinking my eye down to waterline.

As the sun begins to rise, the sky ignites with beautiful steaks of color.

As with each of us there is a physical body with physical parts and physical limitations, so there is also a spiritual body with spiritual and emotional capabilities.  The perspective I enjoy at my six-foot physical stature may not represent my spiritual perspective at any given time. Indeed, as I get older my kids constantly remind me that I’m shrinking. My boys tell me my spine is collapsing, that I am “over the hill” and on my way down the other side. As my perspective may diminish in one way, I have long felt that it is growing in another. The challenges I face in life, including those my children give me, provide an ever-increasing perspective of the landscape of life and my purpose here. Perhaps my spiritual perspective is ten feet high, or maybe even thirty feet, or even a hundred. How would one quantify a spiritual and emotional perspective?

Perhaps my favorite image of the shoot, the reflection in the water creates a wonderful abstract impression.

As I stood on the shore of the Great Salt Lake Friday near the Bonneville Salt Flats, thoughts of my physical and spiritual perspectives came flooding back to me. Here I was on the edge of a vast sea of water with a distinct horizon in the distance. How could I use my camera to capture the feeling of my eye at the waterline? Try as I might, I couldn’t achieve the perspective I was after without placing my camera physically in the water. I knew the ice-cold briny saltwater of the Great Salt Lake would be devastatingly corrosive to my camera body. The only way to truly capture the idea of sinking would be to half submerge my camera below the surface of the water. I’ll have to return someday with a sealed underwater housing to truly see what that would appear as. In the meantime, I’ll always know what I felt emotionally when my perspective has left me bobbing for the vista when my eye was at the waterline and my horizon not very far off.

Winter Photography

I’ve mentioned this before in previous posts, probably almost any time I’ve written in winter; this is not my best season for photography. I’m not ashamed to say I’m a warm weather kind of guy. But I live in Utah and that carries with it some measure of frosty weather. It’s difficult to balance appropriate dress for the climate with the functionality of managing photographic equipment in the outdoors. I hate operating the controls on my camera with stiff and numb fingers. I purchased a great pair of Vallerret gloves this season that allows the fingertips of my index fingers and thumbs to pop out. My fingers stay warm, but it still adds bulk to work around and I invariably still need to put my hand in my pocket to retrieve something and the glove is still bothersome. Also, photography is not necessarily an active sport. Setting my camera on a tripod and waiting for the light to emerge doesn’t always keep my circulation flowing. It’s cold standing on the edge of a frozen lake before sunrise when it is 16°f, even when I’m wearing 4 layers of high-tech insulated clothing.

Winter sunrise from the shore of Utah Lake

There are advantages however to this time of the year and they will likely continue pulling my lazy butt out of bed long before sunrise on a February morning. Often, landscapes are simpler under a blanket of white snow. An otherwise chaotic scene is rendered cleaner with less distractions. There is less competition in a brilliantly colored sunrise sky when played against a landscape of white snow or ice-covered lake. The warm colors of sunrise and sunset also contrast with the cool tones of winter in a pleasing manner. If nothing else, those warm tones somehow in turn warm my shivering bones.

Late afternoon along the Provo River between storms.

This past week, I managed to be out for several sunsets and sunrises, and each turned out rewarding experiences. Saturday morning, I was tempted to visit the Bonneville Salt Flats, but instead opted for a nearby shoot across Utah Lake. I wasn’t disappointed in our local landscape. There is so much beauty in our valleys and mountains. The best aspect of shooting at this time of year is the convenience that sunrises and sunsets occur at reasonable times of the day. I often arise at 3:00am in the summer to catch a sunrise, but then, I only have to dress in shorts and a tee-shirt. There are always tradeoffs.

Fire and ice along the shore of Utah Lake.

While I was photographing the image of fire and Ice, I began hearing odd and eery noises in the lake. I detected that the ice was beginning to shift and burp. Within about 15 minutes, the ice buckled up and created this mass of ice plates.

Perhaps my favorite image of the day. The sun lifted above the mountains on the southern end of the lake first and lit a band of mist rising from the lake. The reflection of the clouds in the ice and water was fascinating.

It's Cold Outside

And so, it is winter, my most difficult season. It’s as though I’m out of practice using my camera with little motivation to leave my warm home and venture into below freezing temperatures. The best images are at the beginning of day or the end, never when the air is slightly warmed by the low hanging sun. This weekend I pushed against the comfort zone and forced my lazy butt out the door. I drove up Provo Canyon to Deer Creek Reservoir to photograph the backside of Mt. Timpanogos at sunset. I dressed moderately warm and parked by the meadows on the northeast side of the lake. When I stepped out of the car, I faced a cold brisk wind coming off the water. Despite the chill in my bones, I trudged through the snow to the shoreline and set up my tripod. It wouldn’t have felt bad had there been no wind.

Deer Creek Reservoir looking north towards the Provo River drainage

It was a lovely evening and I rather enjoyed watching the sun set for over an hour. I made many images, but my favorites came towards the end of my time when the mountain was rimmed in warm glowing clouds. Because of the wind, the surface of the water was choppy and contrasty. The later I waited, the lower the light level, which allowed me to slow my shutter speed considerably. I added a three-stop graduated neutral density filter to hold back the sky and a six-stop neutral density filter to slow the overall exposure. Holding back that much light, allowed me to use shutter speeds of 15 and 30 seconds. That trick smoothed the surface of the water and gave a silky quality to the clouds. I’m pleased with the images I made.

Deer Creek Reservoir, looking towards Provo Canyon. The southern shoulder of Mount Timpanogos is on the right.

Saturday morning, I awoke early and left my home at 6:30. I drove to the north shore of Utah Lake in the hopes of capturing a brilliant sunrise. Unfortunately, a storm front moved in overnight and obscured any chance of a sunrise. I waited an hour for the clouds to part, but it never happened. With flat and dull lighting, I worked on several compositions of reeds in the water and ice in the distant background. I like the simple Zen-like quality of these images. I’m glad I made the effort to leave my warm bed and walk in the brisk air and enjoy the beauty of my natural world in Utah Valley.

Utah Lake in Utah Valley. This image is from the north shore looking south.

Utah Lake in Utah Valley.

Farewell to 2019

I’ve been off from shooting for almost 2 months. Between being ill, minor surgery, company, and the holidays, my camera has gathered dust in my basement office since November. Sometimes it’s hard restarting after being idle for so long. I had an idea to end the year with an image of the final sunset of 2019 paired with the first sunrise of 2020. But, since we had a snowstorm move in overnight, there was no sunrise today. Maybe when the snows clear out in another day or two, I’ll be treated to beautiful skies once again and I’ll get my sunrise shot. It snowed all day and its quite beautiful now.

Looking northwest across Utah Lake, Utah. Sorry about the jet trails. Depending on the winds, we’re either under the approach to Salt Lake international or under the departure path. Tonight the planes were departing to the south. Sigh!!!

The opening image was made on the eastern shore of Utah Lake last evening, looking south. The lake has a thin layer of ice on top, almost strong enough to support me, but not nearly thick to trust. In a few more weeks I’ll be venturing out once again to capture the beautiful ice shots where the forces of nature push up ridges on the western shore. I wish you all a happy new year. I look forward to the grand adventures that await us in the coming year.

Autumn in Zion

I’ve made three trips to Zion this fall, and maybe with a little luck, I’ll get one more visit in during the Thanksgiving break. This is a lovely time of year to be in the park. During the second half of October the number of park visitors drops significantly. Zion is one of the most visited national parks in the state. I’ve managed to get around the crowds by either visiting in remote locations or accessing the main canyon via bicycle instead of riding the shuttle. One of my favorite parts to explore is on the east side, beyond the Mt. Carmel Highway tunnels. There are many side canyons and washes that offer hours of wandering in secluded areas. I can setup my tripod and concentrate on a single vista without hordes of people mingling in the scene. I discovered a set of slot canyons this fall that I have never hiked in before and they are amazingly close to the highway.

Deep in a wash on the east side of the park.

Utah was hit with a wave of very cold arctic air early in the season. It was cold enough to arrest the usual slow transition into fall colors. Some trees jumped from lush green to dry and brown almost overnight. The maples fared better, and I still found patches of brilliant red and orange. I spent most of my time photographing intimate scenes and sometimes midground subjects. There were few grand vistas that caught my attention. I was mostly in the park during the middle of the day and while the light was good for tighter subjects, it didn’t work as well for the bigger landscapes.

Fall color in Zion wash.

I welcome your feedback if you have thoughts or ideas on what I might do differently to capture the beauty of this magnificent national park.

Vibrant red of big tooth maple in Zion wash. Roots reaching long distance to capture moisture.

Vibrant colors found in Zion wash.

Slot canyon on the east side of the park.

Not a square inch of landscape is wasted in Zion National Park.

Backlit tree and meadow in main canyon of park.

Beautiful fall day in main canyon of Zion National Park.

Wasatch Mountains Autumn

I live on the Wasatch Front in Utah. We are finishing our fall season and quickly heading into winter. We had a cold blast of arctic air this week that served to help terminate fall and remind us of winter’s approach. We’ve already experienced single digits in parts of the state. Sadly, when the temperature drops that low, the leaves freeze, and the pretty fall colors quickly fade to brown and fall to the ground. Over the last few weeks, I’ve made several trips into the nearby hills and photographed many beautiful scenes. Many of the aspen forests near our home have been susceptible to a fungal disease that spots the leaves and also inhibits the color transition. Nonetheless, the forest is still striking. Sometimes I find beauty in the slender white trunks of the aspens edged with fields of golden grasses. In these images, there is still a flush of yellow, but not like we experienced while in Colorado in the San Juan Mountains.

This image was made in the vicinity of the opening photograph, but it is a single frame of an aspen stand.

Aspen leaves quickly transitioning through fall color.

On the other hand, Utah is also blessed with great forests of Bigtooth Maple. These magnificent trees turn brilliant shades of red and orange in late September and into October. The lower flanks of Mount Timpanogos are thick with maple and oak trees. A drive over the Alpine Loop Road allows one to view all these various palettes of fall color. In a good year, when the hard freeze is slow to come, the different groves transition one after the other in a cascade of warm and beautiful colors. I love long slow autumns. This year, it wasn’t long or slow, but abruptly ended.

Red maple on the lower flanks of Mount Timpanogos

Fall on Mount Timpanogos

San Juan Mountains Scenic Skyway

 Every few years, Virginia and I make an effort to visit the San Juan Mountains of southwest Colorado. Sometimes we go in fall and enjoy the wildflowers. At other times we try to arrive towards the end of September to catch the aspen forests as they transition into their fall brilliance. Such was the case last month. When we left on our drive from Utah, it wasn’t our intent to drive the entire loop. We kept an open and flexible schedule because we were not sure what the status of change would be. We had a few highlights we looked forward to, but much of our time was left free. Our jumping off point on the Skyway was Ridgway. We spent our first two nights there. We arrived in the early afternoon and found a camping site at Ridgway State Park Campground, a favorite place to stay.

Palisade overlooking Owl Creek Pass at sunset

Ridgway and its surrounding terrain were used as the film background for the 1969 John Wayne classic, True Grit. That is one of my favorite films. I looked forward this trip to finding some of the iconic locations used in the film. I had heard of Owl Creek Pass before but had never taken the time to explore it. With several hours until sunset and the dirt road across the highway from the state park, we quickly dropped off the trailer and made our way up the pass. As the road winds through the forest, vast vistas of aspen and cliffs opened before us. We stopped at every pullout that was broad enough to fit the 4Runner. We had beautiful conditions of stormy skies and a sinking sun. The road eventually passes by Silver Jack Reservoir, but we never made it that far. There was far too much to shoot lower down and the sunset wouldn’t last that long. There are several stunning film locations on this drive. Perhaps the most famous being the meadow used in the final conflict where Rooster confronts Ned Pepper’s gang in one of the best John Wayne shootouts ever filmed. The meadow has come to be called The True Grit Meadow and is backed by the towering Chimney Rock. When we first arrived at the meadow, I recognized that it would be a killer shot if I could catch it in golden hour light, which wasn’t for another hour. We drove on up the pass and explored more sites, and then returned to the meadow for the last fleeting moments of sunset on Chimney Rock. It was worth the wait.

Chimney Rock rising above “The True Grit Meadow”

Another favorite place to watch for autumn color is on Red Mountain Pass between Ouray and Silverton. This is simply one of the most photogenic locations along the Million Dollar Highway on the San Juan Scenic Byway. We stopped at Crystal Lake early in the morning and photographed sunrise as the light crept over Red Mountain. The drive through Silverton and Durango was beautiful although the fall colors were not as intense as around Ouray. We stopped for the night at Mesa Verde National Park. Because we arrived late in the afternoon, we were not able to acquire tickets to the well-known cliff dwellings. We explored on our own and enjoyed small hikes along the mesa rim.

Patchwork of color near Crystal Lake on Red Mountain Pass

Mesa Verde overlook

The next morning, we continued along the loop, driving up the Dolores River canyon. That drive was equally vibrant and beautiful. I only made a few images in this area because the gorge was narrow and heavily forested. I had a difficult time finding locations where I could capture this magnificent landscape. The road opened up more as we approached Lizard Head Pass. With the dramatic storm clouds once again blowing in, I photographed once again the great San Juan Mountains.

Backlit aspen beside the Dolores River

Approaching Lizard Head Pass as storm clouds move in

Because the reports I read on the internet indicated that the aspen around the Dallas Divide were not looking good, we decided to not continue back to Ridgway and complete the loop. Instead, we left the Skyway after passing by Telluride and took a scenic backroad into Utah and drove through Moab. It was a spectacular weekend drive along one of the most scenic highways in America.

View from Lizard Head Pass

Fall

What a glorious time of the year! This week we had a cold storm move over the state. It left our mountains dusted with a layer of snow and brought a cold nip to the lower valleys. Fall seems late in arriving this year, but I feel like the turn in the weather will hasten the arrival of autumn colors. We’ll be driving to the San Juan Mountains later this week and hopefully be blessed with abundant vistas of golden aspen forests.

Naked aspen

When the storm hit us on Friday, I was busy with chores around the house and yard. I’d periodically look out the window at Mount Timpanogos to the north of us and see its peak jutting out of a cloud layer. Fresh snow covered the top third of the mountain. As the day wore on, the words of John Muir pounded in my head, “The mountains are calling and I must go”. I loved that phrase from thirty years ago, but now it seems trite and overused as it appears on countless posters and tee-shirts across America. The truth is though, that the mountains really were calling out to me. I lasted until about 1:00pm and then I couldn’t take it any longer. I told Virginia I had to go. She’s a good woman. Not only did she let me out of my chores, but she gave me her blessing as well.

A mix of seasons on Mt. Timpanogos

I grabbed my camera bag, dressed for cold and wet weather, and ran for the car. It’s almost exactly a 35-mile drive from my home to Provo Canyon over the Alpine Loop, past Sundance Ski Resort, around Mt. Timpanogos, down American Fork Canyon, and back home. In years past I’ve even ridden my bicycle over the loop. It’s a great ride. I have my favorite pull outs that I stop at almost every time. I’ve done this for over 40 years. It doesn’t matter how many times I stop to shoot, it’s always a different view with different weather conditions. Friday was like no other.

Early changers in the grove

The pullout where I shot these images is one of my favorites. I call it my million-dollar view. Sometimes I share this vista with other photographers. The pullout only allows 4-5 cars to pack in here together. On Friday I had it to myself. I threw my camera bag and tripod on top the car and scrambled up after them. I set up the camera and sat on the roof of the 4-Runner watching the mountain change under the floating clouds for well over an hour. It was indeed magic light. The forest is just beginning to change colors. From these images it might appear that the fall change is well under way. These images give a slightly false reading because the trees are backlit by the sun and appear a bit more yellow than they actually are. It didn’t matter to me. I soaked it in and shot image after image as rays of light drifted across the scene.

On the verge of striking gold

Blue skies have once again returned to the state. But the forecast calls for more storms by the coming weekend. The shorter days and dropping temperature should only hasten the appearance of the brilliant colors. I hope you take the opportunity to make short drives into our nearby mountains, escape the city, and revel in the beauty of autumn.

Threat of winter

Home

I live in Utah Valley, at the foot of the Wasatch Mountains near the shores of Utah Lake. Our little town is called Orem, after Walter Orem from the early railroad days. There are things I like about our city and aspects that are growing dim in my heart. I don’t like how fast the area is developing and the urban sprawl that has occurred since I moved here in 1976. We bought our home in the late 1980’s. Back then this part of the valley was still somewhat rural with apple and cherry orchards dotting the area. Traffic wasn’t bad in those days and it seemed life moved slower somehow. One of the attractions to my home, that I would dearly miss if I were ever to leave, is the proximity to the beautiful Wasatch Mountains. We live at the very foot of Mt. Timpanogos standing at 11,752 feet in elevation, which I gaze at out my front window every day,. The picture above was taken from the Squaw Peak Overlook not more than a 20-minute drive from my home. When I sense a pretty sunset coming on, like the one above, I usually have time to grab my camera bag, jump in the car, and be at the overlook in time to capture its majesty. The night I captured this image last week, I barely had time to set up my tripod before the sun sank behind the mountains on the opposite side of the valley. In the twinkling lights below in the valley I can see my neighborhood, my kid’s schools, the church we’ve attended for over 30 years, our grocery store, etc. When I’m down in the valley I lose my perspective on the area. Up here I see my life in greater perspective.

Sunset over Utah Lake

We’ve had storms move through the state this last week. It was a hot dry summer, so the moisture was a welcome sight. Stormy skies make for much better photography. Between rain showers I once again drove towards Squaw Peak, but instead of stopping at the overlook, I took a dirt road that winds further up Cascade Mountain. In several of the following images, you can see the tip of my valley on the left side. The bulk of the view is of Mount Timpanogos. This is a lovely meadow in fall when the maple trees turn bright orange and the willows turn golden yellow. Fall is late in coming this year, which I suppose should be expected, given that spring arrived late and thus summer was put off as well.

Six image pano stitch from Cascade Mountain at dusk

I look forward to fall and the changing colors almost as much as I look forward to the spring wildflower bloom. Both seasons are magical times of the year for me. I love the warmth of summer, but not as much photographically. And then there is winter. Winter is the hardest season for me. I love the individual storms that blanket the valley and mountains in fluffy dry snow. It’s the long cold days in between that I find difficult. This summer I built a woodshop in my backyard where I plan to pass those cold frosty days warmed by the heat of my woodburning stove I’ll be installing in the coming weeks.

I slowed my shutter speed to blur the motion f the clouds. It was a tranquil scene to enjoy all to myself while the hustle and bustle of life was in full swing in the valley.

Utah has been a good place to enjoy the natural world around me. It was a good place to raise my family. My children all enjoy the outdoors. They were raised on frequent trips into the mountains and deserts. I’m looking forward to my next adventure, which is outside Utah. We’ll be going to the San Juan Mountains of Colorado in a few weeks to see those great aspen forests during their color change. I hope you all enjoy the next several weeks as autumn sweeps across the country.

One final image of storm clouds over Mount Timpanogos. The I-15 corridor can be seen in the left of the image, headed towards Salt Lake City.

Return to Timpanogos Basin

It’s been 2 months since I last wrote a blog post. When I started the blog, I got a super good deal from my work, half off a one-year subscription. I was willing to gamble with a $72.00 investment. I enjoyed writing the posts and sharing my photography. When my subscription came up for renewal and I was faced with a much bigger fee, I had to weigh the value of this experience. I haven’t made a dime off the blog, and while many friends tell me they enjoy my postings, I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend $144.00 to entertain a couple dozen family members and friends. So, I cancelled my subscription. My sister noticed I wasn’t putting anything out, but no one else seemed to miss it. I still had a desire to share my photography, so I opened an Instagram account and linked it to my Facebook page. For the most part, posting to social media has been an unfulfilling experience. Writing short descriptions of a photo doesn’t truly capture the emotion of the full backstory. In short, I missed the blog. Last week I had an epiphany. I wasn’t writing for you, my unknown audience, I’m writing for myself. While I can’t justify spending the $144.00 on friends, family, and a few other readers I’ve managed to lure in, I can easily justify it for myself. It’s an outlet I need.

Indian paintbrush, Cows Parsnip, Fleabane, and Forget-Me-Nots in the Timpanogos Basin

One of the definite advantages to running the blog was a nagging desire to create content, which in turn served as a motivator to go shooting. In my original model, I attempted to shoot Friday evening, process the images on Saturday, and then compose the writing on Sunday and post. Towards the second half of the year, I decided that was too much pressure as it sometimes conflicted with other weekend activities with family or church. I began moving towards overlapping my shoots. I still try to do most of my photography on weekends, but now I spend a full week editing the images and thinking about the writing. Now that I am rebooting my posting, I’m not sure I will stick to any schedule. I want to put more effort into the writing and that will likely require multiple evenings on the computer.

My secret field of wildflowers on Timpanogos. I can be on this mountain with a thousand other people, but always escape the crowds on this side trail.

I always hoped to hear from someone with a comment about the post. Mostly it’s my wife, Virginia who adds a comment. She’s with me often when I shoot. I think her comments are mostly out of charity for me. I don’t think she likes seeing me fling my life into the ether with no response. Since I’ve decided the blog is more for me than anyone else, I think I can be satisfied with the great silence beyond the computer screen. BUT, should anyone decide to make a comment, I would certainly enjoy reading it.

Lupine, Paintbrush, and Mertensia in my “Secret Garden” on Mount Timpanogos

These images were made on the day we celebrated our birthdays. Our birthdays are two days apart and we generally combine them into one day of fun. Neither of us has climbed Mount Timpanogos in a few years and we decided this would be a good challenge. I’m certain the mountain has gotten higher and steeper since I last climbed it. We were two worn out old geezers by the time we returned to the car. I’m usually satisfied with only attempting to reach the Timpanogos Basin and not going all the way to the summit. I enjoy seeing the wildflower meadows above tree line and so I usually make that my goal. We had a very heavy snowpack this year with a late spring melt-off. Because of that, the meadows weren’t uncovered for the usual bloom time at the end of July. We made this trip up the mountain a full month later this year. It was a beautiful bloom, but the plants didn’t seem as full and high as previous years. I suspect that the plants can sense a shorter season and push through to the bloom stage without developing as much stem and leaf tissue. It was a glorious hike none the less. I wish I could have been there for early or late light, but on our birthdays, we also enjoyed sleeping in.

Arrowleaf Balsamroot in the main Timpanogos Basin.

Craters of the Moon, Idaho

After leaving City of Rocks, we continued north to our next destination, Craters of the Moon National Monument. We kept to backroads and passed through small rural towns and miles and miles of southern Idaho farmland. Within ten miles of the monument we came across our first hot spring of the trip. The Milford (Wild Rose) Hot Spring is only about 100 yards from the road. It has a large soaking pool at a nice soaking temperature.

MIldford Hot Spring, also known as Wild Rose Hot Spring

Craters of the Moon is a rugged landscape of vast stretches of lava rock, cinder cones, and sparse vegetation. We found a campsite and then drove the scenic loop, which begins at the campground. We spent the remainder of that day under cloudy skies hiking to a half dozen points of interest along the loop drive. Even though the vegetation was sparse, there were plenty of wildflowers to observe growing among the gravel soil structure amid the lava flows. We did not secure permits to explore the bat caves. We have hiked among the lava tubes in central and southern Utah before and decided with our rapidly diminishing light, to skip that part of the monument. With the sun setting to the west, we used our time exploring the other trails on the loop. The stormy clouds and setting sun allowed me to capture images of the park that reveal the rugged nature without the harsh light of mid-day. It was difficult to find photographic compositions that revealed the delicate nature of the wildflowers and the harsh environment in which they grow. The best I could do, was put my lens as close to the ground as possible to show the delicate balance between life and hardscape.

Bitterroot (Lewisia rediviva) growing from the lava soil on the Inferno Cone

Buckwheat growing in a lava flow below a cinder cone

The harsh terrain where wildflowers find fragile footholds among the scant soil

It’s a small park. There were many parts we did not see, but we felt that an overnight stop was enough to satisfy our curiosity. We slept a peaceful night in the public campground and then awoke early the next morning before sunrise and continued on the road north. Upon exiting the park, we made one more stop at the Milford Hot Spring where we soaked as the sun rose over that vast lava landscape.

Weathered roots overlooking a lava field below a cinder cone

View from the top of the Inferno Cone, Craters of the Moon National Monument, Idaho

City of Rocks National Reserve

Last month, Virginia and I packed the Scamp trailer and drove north into Idaho. As a general rule, I only drive about 4 hours when I’m traveling for fun and vacation. Since we shouldn’t drive the Scamp over 60mph, that puts our range at 240 miles max. Knowing that we could just make it across the Utah/Idaho border, I started looking for someplace near Burley. We also maintain a growing bucket list of places we want to visit in the next 10 years. One of the main objectives is to visit all the National Parks in feasible driving range (we’re obviously not driving to the National Park of American Samoa, among a few others). Since there are no National Parks in Idaho, surprisingly, we are expanding our bucket list further to include National Monuments, National Historic Sites, National Recreation Areas, etc. While we may not make it to every National Wildlife Preserve and Bird Sanctuary, we’ll still see some amazing places tucked away in remote corners of our country. As I was scanning over my road atlas, I discovered an area called the City of Rocks National Reserve. It’s a recreation area of 14,407 acres sitting at about 6,200 feet elevation in south central Idaho.

City of Rocks has several subjects of interest that make it a destination worth exploring. Firstly, it is an important historical area where several pioneer trials converge, cross, and depart. Most notably, it is a section of the California trail. There are places where wagon ruts are still visible in the stone, as well as names signed in axel grease upon the granite rock towers. It was the pioneer immigrants that gave this area the descriptive label of City of Rocks.

Since the 1970’s City of Rocks has developed a growing reputation as one of the best rock-climbing regions in the west. People come from all over the world to climb an estimated 1000 routes. Virginia and I don’t climb, except on the rare occasion when our children take us on an adventure. Our kids work as canyoneering guides and they’ll take us out every now and then when they have the time.

City of Rocks has a great campground system. Instead of a large area set apart for camping, they have small groupings of sites strung along the road. The Reserve takes reservations for camping, but we took our chances and found a nice spot late in the day when we drove in. Access to the park is via a dirt road. We entered from the east, passing through the town of Almo. The next day we continued on through the park to the west and exited on the road through the town of Oakley. It was a beautiful drive through remote and rugged scenery. We bounced along on a graded dirt road for about 40 miles. It wasn’t unnecessarily rough, but it still rattled 6-8 interior screws loose in the Scamp. I’m still attempting to seat those screws better but find they work loose even on paved roads. I’m currently applying glue to the screws when I reset them. It seems to work on some, but not all.

Most of the images in this post were shot immediately from our campsite. I climbed a rock ridge to the rear of our site to capture the opening image, looking down into the “City”. All the images of the sunset were likewise made from our camp. The sunset seemed to last for a good hour. The sky lit up all around us.

The next morning, we hiked the Creekside Towers Trail that then connected to several other trails that looped through the narrow slots and along a gurgling stream. Down inside the cracks of the rocks, it was another world of lush growth, full of wildflowers, birds, and mammals. We felt that we had entered an oasis. On the way out of the reserve, we stopped at many of the historical markers and learned the history and geology of this beautiful off-the-beaten path in southern Idaho.

Our campsite at City of Rocks, Idaho

Spring Run-Off at Scout Falls

Sorry for the lack of posting over the last month. I had a work assignment that took me to China, and I was unable to maintain the photography blog. While I took a camera with me to China, the situation didn’t allow me to pursue the photography craft. At the times when I was at local sights, I had midday harsh light, or I was with a mob of other Americans. Perhaps at a later time I’ll post a few images that I converted to black and white. I enjoyed my time at the Terracotta Warriors and captured a few images that I like.

Last week, I had an itch to see a local waterfall. We had a lot of precipitation this past winter and I played a hunch that the waterfalls pouring off Mount Timpanogos in our “backyard” would be running heavy. Normally the Alpine Loop Road is open by Memorial Day, but it opened late this year because of all the snow. I arrived at the trailhead at about 7:30am, well before the sun had risen high enough to flood the Timpooneke Basin in morning light. The wildflowers were growing lush along the trail and I had a feeling this would be a great hike. Scout Falls is only about 1½ miles from the trailhead on this normally popular route up the mountain. I don’t think the upper mountain will be clear of snow until much later and thus the crowds of hikers was greatly reduced. This year there was far more snow than I have seen in the past. I crossed several avalanche runout shoots before I got to the falls. At the falls proper, I hiked onto the snowfield, which was caused by avalanches during the winter that came over the falls edge. The water flowed under my feet and I didn’t know the thickness of ice I was on. It was a bit unnerving to inch closer the edge of ice where the water plunged under the ice shelf. It was difficult standing on the steep slope. I should have brought my micro-spikes for safety. These images were made with an exposure of about 1/5 second to give me the silky-smooth water flow while maintaining texture in the water. It was cloudy so I had even lighting, the desirable type of light for waterfall photography. The new spring leaves are just beginning to burst forth from the willows in the river channel.

After leaving the waterfall, I continued up the Alpine Loop to the summit turnout. There is a small grove of aspens in a marshy area where the False Hellebore were just beginning to grow. These plants, also known as Corn Lilies and sometimes Skunk Cabbage, make interesting compositions, especially when converted to black and white. The undulating leaves create pleasing lines and textures. I hope you enjoy these images of springtime along the Wasatch Front of Utah.

Squaw Peak Overlook

This will be a quick post for the week. I haven’t had much time to be out photographing and I’m not sure I can connect to my hosting service to put this photo up. While I write this, I am about one hour from landing in Beijing, China, where I will be spending the next 2½ weeks presenting a show and touring to Xi’an and Shanghai. Between rehearsals and getting ready to leave Friday, I drove up into the mountains that surround the valley where I live on the Wasatch Front of Utah. May is a favorite time to see the hills turning green and the wildflowers start blooming. I believe these flowers are arrow leaf balsam root. In the background is Mount Timpanogos. This image was shot with the Olympus E-M1mii. I’ll be spending the next few weeks getting a handle on this camera.

Santa Ynez Hills

This is the final set of images from our California trip last month. We drove through the Santa Ynez hills on Foxen Canyon Road. My objective was to find the perfect oak to photograph. While I don’t believe I found the single most perfect specimen, I can’t deny I found plenty of beautiful candidates. The hills were lush green from the new spring grass. The hills were carpeted in wildflowers. The lupine in particular seem to grow well around the oak trees. The challenge on this trip was to find a giant oak that stood out alone on the hill. There was just enough new growth in the leaves to give each tree it’s vibrancy, but not so much that it hid the magnificent branch structure.

Oak along Foxen Canyon Road

As I photographed these trees, I mostly attempted to isolate the oak trees against the verdant hills surrounding them. This allowed me to better control the viewer’s eye on the tree itself. There was only a time or two that I included the sky in my image. Luckily, I had a dramatic sky that day, so when I did include clouds, it enhanced the overall composition of the image. In this photograph, I did a multi exposure blend to keep the highlights in check, and still bring out the detail in the shadow areas.

Springtime in the Santa Ynez Hills near Solvang, California

This is the same tree as the preceding image, but the composition is different.

This will possibly be my last post for the remainder of the month. I leave for China next weekend for work. I hope to have the opportunity to shoot a few images. Sadly, I’m not on my own schedule and my time with a camera will be limited. At best, I hope to do a little street photography. I’m not anticipating trips into the countryside where I can capture grand landscapes, nor will I be sightseeing at times of the day that will provide magic light. Because this isn’t a photography trip, I will be taking my Olympus kit, which is much smaller and lighter. Every time I switch back to that camera, I face the learning curve once again. I still haven’t gotten comfortable using that gear.

A proper canopy for a field of lupine

An interesting pattern of diagonal lines. New growth of grass with Lupine amid the re-leafing of the California oak.

Los Osos Oaks State Natural Reserve

Not far from San Luis Obispo, California is a small bedroom community called Los Osos. Close to the “downtown” area is a small grove of California Live Oak trees that are set aside as the Los Osos Oaks State Natural Reserve. The scant 90 acres is home to 800-year old oak trees. The small pullout at the side of the road hardly gives a clue as to what one sees by venturing onto the several paths that wind and meander among the gnarled giants.

Sunrise among the live oaks

I first discovered this park several years ago while scouting a location to shoot engagement photos for my son. Because the grove is situated so close to the ocean, it is often shrouded in fog that adds a magical and mystical mood to photographs. When I visited the park several weeks ago, it happened to be on the rare day when there wasn’t any fog present. The lack of fog made my work much more difficult. To manage the terrific dynamic range of the rising sun cutting through the upper canopy of the oaks, I had to shoot the same scene with multiple exposures, blend the images together in software that creates high dynamic range images, and then further tweak the images to make them look more natural and portray the mood I felt on the morning I walked through this forest.

California Live Oak Sunburst

Further complicating my photography that morning was the natural clutter one finds in almost any woods. Here in Utah, I often battle composing engaging scenes in an aspen grove. The chaos found on the forest floor is my greatest challenge any time I pull my camera out in the woods. It’s simply not possible to clear away the fallen deadwood, bracken, and misplaced plant growth. The forest is the given that I work around. I spend most of my time isolating scenes that create a pleasing composition. There is very little “digital cleanup” in any of these images. I might remove a small distracting branch here or there, but no major surgery.

The inner meadow, Los Osos Oaks State Natural Reserve

Santa Rosa Creek Road

Continuing on from our last stop at Soda Lake in Carrizo Plain National Monument, we headed for the coast. On the way, we stopped at Shell Creek Road and the junction with Highway 58 in San Luis Obispo County. There is a pasture that has become quite well known for its luxurious growth of wildflowers in spring. The dominant flower in bloom during our visit was the Tidy Tip with its egg yolk center and creamy fringe. This carpet went on for acres.

Wildflower meadow at the junction of Highway 58 and Shell Creek Road in San Luis Obispo County.

Some years back we accidentally stumbled across a backroad between the seaside town of Cambria and the town of Templeton near Atascadero. The road is labeled Santa Rosa Creek Road. On this visit we decided to drive it from east to west, headed towards the ocean with the intent to catch the late afternoon setting sun as a backlight. This has become a favorite place to visit in early spring as the hills take on a lush velvety green color when the grass is just beginning to grow. It was particularly vibrant this year after all the rain California received. We were also lucky to catch the lupin in full bloom along this drive. I don’t have much more to say about these images. I hope they capture my love for this landscape, and especially for the wildflower bloom this year.

This is an exposure blend of three images on Santa Rosa Creek Road looking west. The road winds down a verdant valley, ending in the seaside community of Cambria.

Field of lupin on Santa Rosa Creek Road. This image is a focus stack of two images, one focused on the foreground flowers and the second on the background hills.

A similar image to the previous one except that I did not focus stack. I chose instead to allow the background trees to drop into a soft blur in order to give more focus to the lupin.

New growth of spring on oak at Shell Creek Road in San Luis Obispo County.

Carrizo Plain National Monument

Last week I wrote about our visit to Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve and the hordes of people flocking to the park. We planned to visit Carrizo Plains National Monument later in the day and spend the night camping in the hills above the valley. I was apprehensive about finding mobs of visitors also in the monument, so I decided to enter Carrizo Plain through the backdoor where we would have the greatest chance of isolation. We left the Poppy Reserve and drove towards the intersection of I-5 at Gorman. There were a few splashes of color in the Gorman area and over the Tejon Pass, but nothing that seemed worthy of further exploration. We left I-5 when it intersected with CA166 and drove west.

Phacelia and Hillside Daisy along the Elkhorn Grade Road. I gave up early at making focus stacks of moving flower heads. In this image I settled for a shallow depth of field to draw focus to the Phacelia.

My family moved to Santa Maria, California in the mid 1960’s. Through my adolescence and teen years, we ventured regularly to Mammoth Mountain, first to ski, and then to take up summer sports. We drove the Maricopa Highway (166) hundreds of times. Through all those years, I never knew the incredible beauty that existed just a few miles off the turnoff at Soda Lake. The sign for Soda Lake never drew us in, if it even existed in those days. It pains me to think of all those lost springs that I could have witnessed massive flower blooms that covered the hills every year. Those experiences were owned solely by a handful of ranchers scratching out their existence in an arid landscape. It’s only been in the last 6-7 years that I have been aware of this area.

Tidy Tips and Goldfields along the boardwalk at Soda Lake early in the morning.

Just beyond the city limits of Maricopa, there is a turnoff onto a dirt road signed the Elkhorn Grade. This is the back entrance to Carrizo Plain. It’s a steep climb over the Temblor Mountains and traverses the length of the Carrizo Valley on the other side. On our drive, we only encountered a handful of other visitors, so we mostly had expansive views to ourselves. On other visits, the skies were clear and uninteresting. This day however the sky was full of puffy storm clouds that added further interest and drama to the landscape and wildflowers.

This image was made on the eastern side of the valley. It is an HDR image made from three exposures. The foreground was easy to capture, but I had a more difficult time holding back the intensity of the backlit clouds.

We spent the afternoon shooting along the valley. On this trip I practiced building panoramic images, focus stacks, and high-dynamic range images. Because we still had wind to contend with, the focus stacks of wildflowers were difficult to create. Moving wildflowers don’t work well in focus stacking, and also makes it difficult for panoramic images. I’ll indicate the various techniques I used in the captions of the photos I use in this post.

Sunset from our camping location on the west side of the valley, above Soda Lake. Yellow Fiddleneck in the foreground compliment the glowing clouds above the lake.

We didn’t bring the Scamp on this trip because we intended to stay with a friend in Arroyo Grande (thanks Cindy). But we did want to stay overnight in Carrizo Plain in order to photograph both sunset and sunrise. Without the Scamp, we slept in the back of the 4Runner and enjoyed a quiet night’s rest. Sunset was lovely but sunrise didn’t happen. We had a heavy cloud cover in the morning. It’s not uncommon for that part of California to be covered in morning fog. We didn’t exactly have fog and the cloud deck wasn’t very high. It allowed me to make beautiful images along the shore of Soda Lake that brought out the brilliant intensity of the flowers growing along the shoreline. I fell in love with Carrizo Plain the first time I visited several years ago, and I remain captivated by it today. I’ve only visited there in the beauty of the spring bloom. Sometime I should return in the off season, likely a more desolate experience.

Low clouds blocked any chance of capturing sunrise the next morning. With no regrets, I embraced the drama the clouds offered. The muted light still allowed the flowers to glow brilliantly and contrast beautifully with the cool tones of the sky and distant Temblor Mountains.

Almost 180° viewing angle from the previous image, this view of Goldfields and Tidy Tips carpet the valley floor along Soda Lake.

Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve

Two weeks ago, Virginia and I made another trip to California. This time we visited the northern edge of the Mojave Desert, Carrizo Plain and then over to the central coast. In this blog post I’m sharing our experience visiting the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve. We’ve been to AVPR several times over the last 5-6 years, always hoping to catch a magnificent bloom. Our timing was never quite right in past years. Even two years ago (2017), we saw a less than spectacular bloom. Wildflowers are fickle. I have to constantly watch the online reports, and when the time is right, I drop everything else, pack up the car, and head out on the road. We left our home at 8:30 in the evening and skirted another storm moving across the state. It seems we’re always leaving town in a snowstorm. We overnighted again in Ivins for a brief rest and then left early the next morning. Several years ago, we timed our travel to arrive at the Poppy Reserve at sun up, thinking that would be ideal lighting as the low-angle sunlight swept across the hills of flowers. We didn’t know then that poppies don’t unfurl their delicate petals until activated by the warmth of the sun about midmorning. We were too early in the year in 2017, and though we stuck around a few hours, the bloom was only developing for that season. This year was quite a different experience.

We arrived in the Lancaster area at about noon. I started to feel a little concerned the closer we got. In the past we’ve only encountered a handful of people at the reserve. As soon as poppies appeared along the side of the road, more and more cars were stopped along the roadway. We had heard reports of bad “floral” behavior with this bloom resulting from the swelling storm on social media. Sure enough, we watched countless people walking through the fields and laying in the flowers. By the time we reached the drive to the park, cars were backed up along the roadside. It was an estimated 1-hour wait from the turn-off to the toll booth at the entrance to the reserve. Hordes of visitors were leaving cars outside the park and walking up the lane. There was a very Disneyesque feeling like standing at the front gate of a theme park.

With the pressing crowds, strong winds blowing the flower heads and mid-day light, we decided we didn’t want to fight our way in. We were a little disappointed, but also relieved. From what we could see from the road, it would have been difficult to compose a photograph without framing other visitors in the pictures. A little reluctantly, we got back into the car to continue our drive to Carrizo Plain. Just as we were passing the reserve, I spotted a dirt road that looked to skirt the western boundary of the reserve. With nothing to lose, we turned off the road and drove down a well-graded road. Before long we were at the backside of the park. We could see the lines of people walking along the paths, but to our joy and excitement, the hills beyond were ablaze in brilliant colors of orange and yellow. The further we drove, the further back we left the crowds. We occasionally caught a glimpse of another car in the distance, but for the most part, we had the most magnificent poppy bloom we ever witnessed all to ourselves.

Everywhere we turned were wave upon wave of brilliant color for as far as eye could see. I mentioned to Virginia that when I posted these images, its likely viewers will think I amped up the color in Photoshop. I admitted that it would be hard to believe colors could be this vibrant. I’m happy I have Virginia as my witness that these colors were every bit as vibrant as depicted here. Very little enhancement was done in Photoshop to achieve these results. A little contrast boost, color balancing, and sharpening is all that was needed. What did I learn this year? I needed to wait later in the year, give the poppies time to wake up in the morning, and go beyond the boundary of the park to really see the very best of that area.

Anza-Borrego State Park, California

This will be the final blog post containing information about our March wildflower trip to the Mojave Desert in California. We returned from California again today after a quick trip to the central coast where we photographed the wildflower bloom in that area. On the way, we stopped at the Antelope Poppy Reserve, Carrizo Plain, Santa Rosa Creek Road, and the Santa Ynez hills. I’m only beginning to process those images and they will be the topic of future posts.

Barrel Cactus and Desert Poppy

This post will include our one-night stopover in Anza-Borrego State Park. It’s tough to cover much ground in one visit when we were in the area for less than 24 hours. Like Joshua Tree National Park, this state park definitely requires a return visit when we can spend more time. Our timing was good. The bloom was magnificent, and the crowds were manageable. We camped on a side road not far from town. They have a great boondocking policy here and we spent a quiet night under the stars surrounded by fields of desert wildflowers.

Bisnaga Barrel Cactus

When we return in future years, we’ll for sure take advantage of the many hiking trails in the surrounding hills. We mostly drove the roads around the town of Borrego Springs and stopped at many popular pullouts. Our hiking consisted mostly of wandering into the hills and looking at the spectacular displays of the many plants in bloom. The area surrounding the visitor center was particularly beautiful. I’ve noticed that flowers in the desert are exceptionally brilliant in color and very aromatic. With a short bloom season, the plants have little time to waste attracting pollinators.

Sand Verbena and Desert Sunflower

It isn’t possible to see the entire bloom in a single weekend. The flowers come in succession and bloom in waves across the valley floor. One must return again and again to see a complete sampling of its many offerings. These images only represent a sampling of what happened to be in bloom this one weekend. We had bright blue skies on our visit and that made it difficult to capture good images in the afternoon. Photography involves a lot of luck, a lot of hard work, and mostly patience. I had one chance at Anza-Borrego this year. I have no regrets, but I don’t think these images do justice to the great potential of this park.

Phacelia, Cholla, and Desert Dandelion