Cedar Breaks to Mt. Terrill

Virginia and I drove to southern Utah last week. On the way, we decided to take a scenic drive up Parowan Canyon and pass through Brian Head and Cedar Breaks National Monument. Last year I wanted to photograph the wildflowers on the upper plateau, but we happened to be too late. There is an annual wildflower festival in July to celebrate the bloom. This year the festival starts July 7 and runs until July 22. So, even though the festival isn’t scheduled to begin until next weekend, we found the flowers at about peak bloom. I suppose the drought in the west and the warmer temperatures have led to an early bloom. I feel we were fortunate to come upon such a beautiful and colorful display early in the year. We hiked the Alpine Pond Trail in the early evening and never saw another visitor along the hike. It amazed me that the monument was so empty at such a beautiful time of year. Perhaps everyone was waiting for the actual festival in mid-July. I’m afraid the wildflowers will be largely faded and gone by then. Along the trail we saw wave upon wave of purple lupin, columbine, larkspur, paintbrush, and various unidentified yellow flowers. The late afternoon light enhanced the colors, softened the mood, and unfortunately, brought out the mosquitoes in the droves.

Cedar Breaks National Monument at sunset

On our way home, we took the long road back. We drove to Fish Lake and then passed by Mt. Terrill on Forest Road 640. I read about the wildflowers at Mt. Terrill several years ago and I’ve wanted to see them ever since. With the beautiful bloom at Cedar Breaks, I figured it would also be a good time around Fish Lake. The pass by Mt. Terrill is at about 10,500 feet, the same as Cedar Breaks. We scored a great visit on our drive and saw gorgeous meadows waving in the breeze. We also figured out the basic area of Pando on this visit. Pando is a large grove of aspen trees that is composed of a single organism. Pando is the largest living organism on the planet. I'm not including photographs of Pando because it will be more beautiful in the fall when the quaking aspen leaves turn brilliant yellow. I'll save that post for a few months down the road. Now that I know where Pando is, I'll return when she is in her blazing autumn glory.

Meadow just off Forest Road 640, Fish Lake National Forest

Wildflowers on Forest Road 640 near Mt. Terrill, Fish Lake National Forest

This is the beginning of our wildfire season in Utah. There were nine fires under suppression in the state this weekend. As luck would have it, the Willow Patch fire wasn’t far from the Fish Lake National Forest. As the sun set to the west, the lighting turned a deep sepia color and softened the highlights. I look forward to more trips into the hills in search of more beautiful wildfire gardens.

More wildflowers by Forest Road 640 in Fish Lake National Forest

Smoke from the Willow Patch wildfire, Fish Lake National Forest

Horsetail Falls, Lone Peak Wilderness Area

I’ve been interested lately in exploring new trails in the nearby mountains. It’s not always easy and convenient to plan the epic excursions to see the grand landscapes. I’m finding there are still dozens of trails leading out of Utah Valley that I haven’t taken the opportunity to explore. I always like seeing a good waterfall. Already this summer, I’ve hiked to a handful of waterfalls and cascades that have eluded me for the 40 years I’ve been in the area. Several weeks ago, I came across a description of one such waterfall called Horsetail Falls. This waterfall lies north of the Mount Timpanogos region, draining from an area in the Lone Peak Wilderness. The trailhead is above the town of Alpine, Utah. It was a steep climb, gaining almost 1600 ft in just two miles. There were a few other hikers along the way, but much of the time I enjoyed the solitude of this hike by myself. I began hiking at 4:30 in the afternoon, hoping to find the waterfall in shade. The trail heads up the southwest facing slope so much of the ascent was in full sun. When I started hiking it was in the low 80° so it was a hot and sweaty climb with a heavy backpack. Some months back I wrote about purchasing a lighter camera system to facilitate these mountain hikes and saving my aging back. Not only am I still carrying my old gear, but I’ve added additional equipment to my kit that only makes my pack heavier. I enjoy the control I get from my Nikon setup. I don’t regret purchasing the Olympus and I get great photos from it. I simply prefer the full-size camera body and all the accessories that come with the Nikon. My latest expansion of photographic gear is a better filter system. I’ve purchased a Lee foundation holder, a set of hard edge graduated ND’s, a set of soft edge graduated ND’s, a 10-stop ND, and a new polarizer. Before the year is out I plan to pick up several more ND filters to complete the set. I find I have greater control for managing the light by using these filters. A lot of the dynamic range problems can be managed in Photoshop and Lightroom, but if I make some attempt to correct for it in camera, I have much less work to do on the computer. But anyway, the bottom line is my backpack is only getting heavier. To counter the weight gain, I’ve taken several items out of my pack that I’m beginning to miss. One particular item I miss is my water filter. After spending an hour at Horsetail Falls photographing the cascades, I wanted to drink some of the ice-cold mountain water. While I could get away with that 30-40 years ago, I wouldn’t do that today without filtering it first. Another item to add back to my pack is my first-aid kit. I could tell on the way down the mountain that my muscles were getting sore and I would have benefitted from some acetaminophen. It was all good in the end though. I had a wonderful afternoon hike to a spectacular waterfall and enjoyed an hour practicing my photographic skills.

I rarely do selfies when I am engaged in capturing the landscape. In this case, I wanted to capture the scale of the waterfall. The only thing I had with me to give it proper perspective and scale was myself.

It isn’t often that I photograph moving water with a shutter speed that freezes the motion of the water. I much prefer to capture the silky quality that implies motion. In most of the images I made Friday, I shot in the range of 1/5 second.

Return to Sleeping Woman

I regret that I’ve neglected the blog the last six months. It’s not that I’ve lost interest in photography. I find it hard to keep up with all I want to do. I would rather spend my time roaming the wilderness and making photographs than sitting in my basement office on a Saturday writing a blog post. When I’m not making photographs, there is always a checklist of chores waiting for me at home. I miss sharing my photography, especially since I’ve left social media. My readership isn’t large, but such as it is I appreciate you taking a moment to look at my work.

I grew up on the coast of California and I loved the ocean. We also ventured to the mountains when I was young; the mighty Sierra Nevada Range. When I was 18 and graduated from high school, I began my freshman year at Brigham Young University. BYU is nestled along the base of the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. North of campus is one mountain of particular beauty and majesty, Mount Timpanogos, sometimes referred to as Sleeping Woman (from a fabricated tale early in the 20thCentury, told to imbue a Native American reference). Within a week of first arriving on campus in 1976, I made my first climb to its peak. Since that day, almost 42 years ago, I’ve loved this mountain. I’ve climbed it, biked it, driven around it, camped upon it, and hiked its myriad trails. On most of those trips I’ve carried a camera with me. I must have thousands of photographs, taken in each season of the year. When I dropped into bed last evening, I lay awake for a while deciding where I would photograph when I awoke in the morning. I drifted off to sleep without coming to a conclusion. My internal alarm went off at 4:30am and I was up and out of bed. I have to admit my motivation was low this morning. I knew I needed and wanted to go out to shoot, but I couldn’t decide where to go. I thought about driving along the Alpine Loop that circles Mt. Timpanogos from Provo Canyon to American Fork Canyon. But honestly, I thought, what does Timpanogos have to show me that I haven’t seen a hundred times already? I sat for almost 30 minutes in my living room before finally deciding that regardless of how often I’ve been to the mountain, I never regret being upon her ground. I was confident that no matter the photographic prospects, I always enjoy breathing the aspen forest air and seeing the rays of the rising sun illuminate her peaks.

Sunrise this morning was at 5:58. The 30-minute drive got me to the saddle of the Alpine Loop Road just minutes before. I walked into the woods not more than 5 minutes to where I found this gap in the aspen trees as the sun burst upon the mountain. I waited for nearly 30 minutes, hoping the clouds would part and the peak would catch the morning rays. I recorded various compositions, however the sun never found that right gap in the clouds. It was incredibly peaceful and stunningly beautiful. I think living this close to Mt. Timpanogos has left me feeling that I take her beauty for granted. Shame on me for that. It’s because of my familiarity with her, and her close proximity to my home, that I am able to discover her thousands of nuances and explore off the beaten path. I think that if I were given another 42 years, she would still find new vistas to share with me. Let’s hope that I can double my existing collection of photographs of Mount Timpanogos before my turn here is through.

Ablaze

Every year our local life science museum sponsors a nature photography competition. Most years I’m not organized enough to submit an entry by the deadline. This year I thought about it often and set my mind to having two images ready in plenty of time. After the Christmas season passed, I began culling through the hundreds of images I made in 2017 searching for the ones that might make the cut. The competition only allowed a photographer to enter two pictures. I narrowed the field to 5 possible. Several of the images were not my most beautiful from the previous year but instead, showed an interesting graphic design. I figured the judges were likely looking for images that were not necessarily ordinary or conventional. I sent my five selections to a local printing shop. I decided to have the images mounted on foam-core at the same time. I wanted to place them side by side in my office and consider them over time to see which of the two resonated with me the strongest. I then narrowed the field down to three images, which I then took to a framing shop for matting. I looked at the three candidates for several weeks before finally choosing the two I would enter.

Carrizo Plain, California

When the day of submission came, I carried them to the museum, paid my entry fee, signed the proper waivers, and left. The museum employees informed me that I would be notified in advance if I was a winner, so I could be in attendance when the exhibit opened, and the winners announced. Unfortunately, this was the weekend of Easter and I was planning to be out of town.

Oak in Fog, Santa Rosa Creek Road, California

During that week, I left for a short trip to southern Utah to spend time with family and enjoy the warmer weather of the desert. Day by day I anticipated a call from the museum, but none came. I quietly accepted the fact that my images were below notice. I was discouraged as I calculated in my head the enormous cost I’ve sunk into photography over the years. I’ve spent thousands of dollars on equipment and outings. Countless hours of my life have been devoted to studying the art of photography. Now I was feeling that perhaps I’ve invested too deeply. Just the submissions alone cost me a fair amount considering the image processing, mounting, matting, and submission fees. The cost is real and the cost is significant.

Seaweed and Limestone, Oregon coast

I reconciled myself to the purpose that brought me into photography in the beginning. I love the outdoors and enjoy attempting to capture small pieces of its beauty and slices of moments in time that are unique. For whatever cost that is spent, the true joy comes from the time I spend outside. I suppose it is enough to have an excuse to go outside, to make that next image. Rarely am I disappointed and regret the time I’m wandering through the mountains and forests. It’s true that I am a fair-weather photographer. Winter isn’t my favorite time of year to be outside. But when I make the effort to go out, I’m always rewarded.

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah

On the day of the exhibit opening, Virginia and I were heading out on a spring hike in beautiful St. George, UT. While driving down the road, my phone rang. It was the museum, informing me that I was a winner and requesting my attendance at the opening that evening. I wasn’t able to return home and be there for the announcement. The secretary wouldn’t tell me over the phone where I placed. I spent a long weekend wondering which image won, and where it placed.

Monday morning, I stopped by the museum on my way to work and pleasantly learned one of my images was selected as first place in the nature category. My second image received an honorable mention. 

A Blaze or Ablaze?

At the time of submission, the secretary that received my entries asked me to title the images. The title I chose for one was Ablaze. She misunderstood and typed in A Blaze. It is a subtle difference and changes the intent of my photo. I chuckled to myself when I saw it hanging in the exhibit hall.

A Carnival of Animals

This week I lit a little ballet called the Carnival of the Animals. The music is by Camille Saint-Saens. Our production was aimed mostly at families with small children and had a very playful nature about it. The context for our program was a group of kids who stumbled upon a rundown circus. An old woman, the proprietor of the circus and her companion, a juggler, magically transform into a circus master and dancing bear. Through the use of puppets, each variation of animals is introduced to the children. It was a charming collection of dances, and the use of puppets made it all the more intriguing to a young audience.

Photographing dance is always a bit of a challenge. Since the light levels are often low, I have to use a high ISO to freeze the motion of the dancers. This often leads to noisy images. I can compensate somewhat by using noise reduction software. Most of my images were shot at f4 and between 1/500 and 1/1000 at ISO 6,400. When I shoot productions for archival use, I generally only create jpg files. RAW files are much too large for the quantity of images I make, about 1,500- 2,000 per show. I lose a lot of latitude in file manipulation by only shooting in jpg, but that is currently my only option. These archival images are only intended for use by students who work on the production for their personal use in portfolios and such. Not having a RAW capture works satisfactorily for this purpose.

Ballet, and any dance for that matter, is a wonderful medium to work in both as a lighting designer and as a photographer. From a lighting designer perspective, nothing compares to illuminating the human body in space. The human form comes to life in an abstract manner. An early pioneer in stage lighting, Jean Rosenthal once said, "Dancers live in light as fish live in water". There is much truth to that reality. For the photographer, there is a great challenge to capture each dance movement at the peak of its execution. There is almost a Zen-like quality of capturing a dancer suspended in space, or in light, for that matter. I often shoot in burst mode to capture a series of movements. Sometimes it's the take off that has greater power, sometimes the peak of flight, and sometimes it's the landing that has the most appeal. Without the burst mode I wouldn't have the opportunity to compare various moments of the dance.

The wonder of live theatre for me is capturing the magic of the imagination; to create drama, ask questions, and seek answers. The world of dance provides the opportunity to blend together the power of drama with the beauty of human movement. Such was my experience with the Carnival of the Animals this week.

Provo River Restoration Project

During the 1950's and 1960's, the course of the Provo River in Utah was altered to accommodate the projected growing needs of the state. The riverbed was straitened, levees were built to guard against flooding, and in a few places the riverbed was dredged. In the process, the natural habitat was disrupted and the plant and animal life was greatly affected. In the late 1990's, the state government allocated funds to restore the river to its natural condition. Where the riverbed had been straightened, it now was allowed to return to its natural meander. The project also acquired an 800- 2,200 foot wide corridor on either side of the river. Levees were set back to once again allow occasional flooding. In all respects the river was once again returned to a natural state. It will take time for plant and animal life to fully return, but for now it is a beautiful and peaceful place to visit and explore.

I arose early Friday morning knowing that I wanted to shoot a sunrise. Since we had a storm the day before, I knew I was likely to have a few lingering clouds. I looked at the Photographer's Ephemeris and saw that the best chance I had for color in the sky without driving a long way was the Heber Valley. There is a parking area north of Deer Creek Reservoir outside the town of Charleston with access to the Provo River Restoration Area, and it was here I decided to photograph. I had a snowy drive up Provo Canyon with patches of fog around Deer Creek Reservoir. It was a cold crisp morning and the air was mostly clear by the river. When the sun began rising there were patches of mist rising off the water. I struggled to find a composition in the chaotic growth along the river until I came across this scene where the sunrise light reflected beautifully off the river's surface. The colors were rich and warm and contrasted nicely with the cool winter tones along the river's bank.

I stayed and shot for over an hour, until the color was gone from the sky and I had weekend chores calling me back to home. I live in a beautiful part of the world if I can be in a setting like this within 30 minutes of my house. Oh, that I could see all this country around me in a grand restoration project. I would dearly love to see the Mt. Timpanogos Wilderness area 100 years ago. Alas I am content to roam the hills and canyons and experience what I can and capture a few images along the way.

Losing Weight

I suppose the subject of losing weight sounds a bit odd for the topic of a photography blog. In this instance however it is very apropos. I’ve known for the last year that my trekking in the out of doors was becoming less enjoyable. The combined effect of acquiring too much photography gear and then placing it on a nearly 60-year old back was having an inverse impact on my joy of the natural world. The solution was obviously a gear diet. Normally when a person attempts to lose weight there are two approaches to the matter; the amount and type of substance consumed. In my case, I knew I had to find a solution that involved fewer pieces in a more compact setup.

I’ve had my eye on mirrorless cameras for almost two years. The problem was deciding which brand to go with. My current kit is Nikon, and they don’t make a mirrorless camera other than a point and shoot, to my knowledge. Whatever my choice would be, it would mean buying into a new family of lenses. Since the lenses were a contributing factor in my “weight gain”, that became an easy consequence to accept. The three manufacturers that caught my attention are Sony, Fuji, and Olympus. I studied the pros and cons of each for months. It proved a much more difficult decision than I expected. On any given week it seemed the choice was clear, only to change for what I felt were obvious reasons the next week. Weight for weight, lens options, price, sensor size were all a concern. Surprisingly in the end, nostalgia had a large influence on the direction I decided to follow.

When I graduated from high school in 1976, my father bought me an Olympus OM-1. It was a terrific little camera that took great pictures for its time. The glass was superb. It was compact and lightweight. It went everywhere with me. It was my hiking buddy on countless trips up mountains and through desert landscapes. My love of photography grew with every photograph I made with that little machine. 16 years ago, almost to this day, I took my last photograph with that camera. I fondly refer to that image as my “Olympus Farewell”. I was standing on the bank of the American Fork River in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah and made a self-portrait. It was a way of recording my joy and friendship with a dearly beloved tool. Two days later, I received my first Nikon in the mail, an 8008s film camera. From there I went on to the Nikon F5, a proven champion in the world of photography, a camera favored by National Geographic photographers. This was at the outset of the digital era and so it was not long after that I acquired my first digital camera, a Nikon D70. For the last five years I’ve been a dedicated fan of the D700; I have two bodies. With my professional lenses and miscellaneous accessories, I’ve been a happy photographer for a long time and for thousands of images.

"Olympus Farewell" January 12, 2002

My decision to purchase the Olympus OM-D E-M1 Mark II felt like a welcome reunion with a friend whom I haven’t seen for many a year. He’s grown up a lot since I last held my OM-1. Of course, there was more to it than pure nostalgia. I knew Zuiko made excellent glass, so the image quality would be top notch. The compact size and weight was exactly what I was looking for. It is less than half the weight of my Nikon. The in-camera stabilization, articulating live-view monitor, silent operation, and many other features will make the joy of photography all the more an excellent experience. The one drawback I struggled with was the sensor size. It took a long hard think to overcome the micro 4/3 sensor. I finally concluded that I wasn’t getting rid of my Nikon gear. I will maintain all the existing equipment for years to come. In fact, I already have my eye on the new D850 body. If I ever need the larger sensor it will be at my disposal, as long as I’m not hiking up a mountain at the time. The truth is, I don’t sell my prints. I only print for home projects. I’m not sure how large I can print from a micro 4/3 file. I’ll always be able to compile a larger file by shooting a panorama and stitching together for higher resolution. The bottom line and primary reason for a new camera was to lighten the load for hiking up mountains and to simplify my life while traveling. I’m speculating that the Olympus camera will suit my needs just fine and give me many quality images in the meantime.

I bought the body in November but couldn’t afford a lens until this month. The 12-40mm lens arrived last week. I took the camera out for the first time yesterday. Just for old time’s sake, I returned to the same stretch of the American Fork River to take my first shot with my new Olympus OM-D camera. On the way up the canyon, fortune smiled upon me and a small heard of mountain goats had come down to lick salt from the surface of the road. It was a quick grab to shoot this image out the window of the 4Runner. I was glad for the in-camera stabilization. The results of my first shoot are quite acceptable. Like any new piece of equipment, there will be a learning curve. But that learning curve is one I look forward to in the coming years. Happy shooting everyone and best wishes for all you who are attempting to lose weight along the way.

Mountain Goat, Mount Timpanogos Wilderness Area

American Fork River, Wasatch Mountains, Utah

Another Reboot

After a two-month hiatus, I am finally back to giving attention to the blog. We passed through a tough stretch. First there was my daughter’s wedding and the company that came to town to help celebrate. Then came the holiday season, which I could have managed if I hadn’t gotten sick. I was down and out for three straight weeks with the flu. After the holidays passed it still took several weeks to regain my strength, but I was also behind in my regular job. So, I’ve been busy up until now. This has been a two month stretch in which I haven’t gotten out to use my camera. Friday, it was relatively warm for a January day along the Wasatch Front. The air was clear and it seemed I would have a decent sunset. With only about 1½ hours to work with, I decided to take a short hike on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail 10 minutes from my house. I didn’t have a specific destination in mind or a particular photo I wanted to make. I simply wanted to be out on the hillside again, walking a trail with camera in hand. While I was sick, I occupied a lot of my time by watching YouTube videos on photography. There is a lot of free material to access, and some of it is quite good. I’ve particularly enjoyed binge watching Thomas Heaton, a bloke from the north of England. I’ve also watched Nick Page, Ben Horne, and most recently Mads Peter Iversen. I’ve learned a lot and I’m eager to be out practicing the craft. Some of the technique I’m learning will require the investment in a few new toys. My shopping is on hold until I have a few more shoots in the next couple months. I drained my business account for a reason I’ll explain in the next little while. There is plenty for me to do in the meantime, and so I’ll share with you where I am now, what I hope to work on this year, and where my focus in photography is going.

From watching three years’ worth of YouTube uploads by Thomas Heaton, I’ve learned there is a tremendous amount of effort that goes into creating a good composition. I’ve known for many years that great photography requires exceptional light, strong composition, and a compelling subject. I can get away with only two of these elements if that’s all I have available, but when one is missing it puts greater pressure on the other two. If I were to rate the elements in order of importance, I would place composition first, great light next, and lastly a strong subject. I’ve seen many wonderful images consisting mainly of composition and good light. Thomas Heaton puts a lot of effort into finding and creating a strong composition. I’ve often been distracted by dynamic light and get so excited that I attempt to make light the subject and assume it has compositional powers. While it is possible to create great composition with light, it usually is most successful when there is subject involved. So, with my limited time on Friday evening, I struck out upon the trail in search of composition. I was confident the light would take care of itself to some extent and I was hopeful to find a decent subject. To reiterate, I wanted to work on composition.

I wandered off trail, up the slope and down the slope, bushwhacked through scrub oak, and in and around various hillside landscapes. As the sun sank lower in the sky, I realized I had to find my composition soon. Without the dynamic sunset light, I would most certainly come home empty handed. Finding or making a good composition is hard, harder than one would think. In retrospect, I should have started my hike sooner, found my composition, and then waited for the light to happen. With the good light fading, I had to force the composition. The best setting I could find was a collection of dried grass and flowers on a southwest facing slope. The backlit flowers looked warm and bright. The grass bent into the photo enhancing the leading lines of the clumps of dried flowers. The setting sun made a nice focal point above the mountains on the other side of Utah Lake. These images are not stunning and I don’t think they’ll qualify for printing. But as an exercise, it was a lovely evening and a good workout. It’s a step in training my eye find composition in a chaotic world. The forecast calls for more storms this weekend. It’s been a relatively warm winter for us and that certainly makes for a more pleasant experience with camera in hand.

A Wedding

We’ve had a crazy several weeks, and so my blog has suffered from neglect. The main distraction that has taken me away from writing was my daughter’s wedding that occurred this last Thursday. Now that it is past, I hope to refocus my energies on other parts of my life that have slipped. As the father of the bride I had many duties to tend to. My primary responsibility was covering the cost of the overall celebration. We chose to cut costs where possible, so we decided that the resident photographer (and father of the bride) would take the pictures. After a miserable failure with the bridal portraits the weekend before, I was a little nervous about shooting the wedding itself. I had several complications with the bridals that all conspired against me at the same time. I scoured the internet for ideas, looking on Pinterest and various Google searches. The idea I settled on was a bit of a complicated strobe setup. I had the equipment to do it, but I lacked the experience and confidence to pull it off. I’ve gotten quite good at shooting with off camera strobe through a white umbrella. It’s a simple look but very classical and elegant. Instead, I wanted to try a dramatic look using a mix of colored strobes. We shot the image in deep shade, starting an hour before sunset in a grove of aspen trees on Mt. Timpanogos. I mostly killed the ambient light by underexposing the image by three stops. I then used a steel blue gel on a shoot-through umbrella at a 45° angle backed off about 30 feet. That would cast a toning light that would suggest a romantic moonlit night in the forest. I hung a second strobe overhead, suspended between two trees to create a downlight on the bride. Since my daughter wanted her fiancé in the shot I placed a third strobe with a grid and dialed way back, behind a tree and shot directly into his face. Since I was using gelled light, I planned to use a tungsten color balance to enhance the blueness of the scene. In my head, it seemed like a great idea. It all started falling apart when my daughter was late to the shoot and we quickly fell into dusk. I had trouble getting the three strobes balanced properly, it was cold, and the overhead light spilled too much on the surrounding aspens. In the end, the effect was more nightmarish than romantic.

Aspen Groves, Wasatch Mountains, Utah

Not wanting to repeat the bridal experience, I chose to retreat to a much simpler arrangement. I knew I would have trouble manipulating a shoot-through umbrella in the chaotic stress of wrangling family and friends for the group shots. I chose instead to keep my strobe atop my camera and use the Rogue FlashBender. I metered for ambient light and dialed the flash back to only softly fill in the eye socket shadows. I was happy with the results and considering what was at stake, it was a much safer solution. We were blessed with an overcast sky, at least from a photographer’s perspective. I’m not sure my daughter felt a threat of rain was a blessing. And since I was both father of the bride and photographer I knew there would be some shots that would include me. For those few images, I placed my camera on a tripod and used a remote trigger to fire the camera. The only thing I lost from this setup was having someone calling attention to the small children that didn’t understand they were supposed to look toward the camera.

The wedding party

It was helpful to research ideas of where to pose the newlyweds ahead of time. They were married in downtown Salt Lake City at a very iconic church setting. By googling wedding photos at our particular venue, I found many ideas I might not otherwise have thought of. My post processing has been simple, mostly because of simple lighting. I spent a few minutes straightening and cropping the images, applying the proper color balance, adding contrast and a slight amount of sharpening. Other than these adjustments, the images are ready to print, or in today’s world, go out on social media.

Zion

Last weekend Virginia and I went to southern Utah. On Saturday we rode our bicycles through Zion National Park. The last few years I've avoided the park during peak season because the crowds are so bothersome. The shuttle system is a great solution to relieve pressure on the park and I support it 100%. Still, I can't help but feel like I'm part of a herd when I climb on one of the trams. Several years ago, we visited Yosemite National Park and we happened to have our bikes with us. Even though it was the middle of summer, on a weekend, and the roads were packed with cars and crazy drivers we stayed largely immune from the stress while peddling through the valley. This summer we decided to give Zion a try via peddle power. It was a wonderful experience. We made our way up the canyon at our own pace, enjoying the massive walls on either side and the wide open sky above. Zion has a policy that bikers must pull over to the side and stop when a shuttle approaches from behind. With a ten minute interval we weren't bothered one bit by a quick breather and a look around. At the peak of summer crowds we only occasionally passed another biker. Everyone else was crammed onto a shuttle. We stopped to photograph where we wanted, found a secluded spot to swim in the Virgin River, and mostly felt we were having a personal experience in the park. I hadn't felt that alone in Zion since I first began visiting in the 1970's.

Between two shuttle stops, Zion National Park, Utah

We decided to give the fall season a try as well on bikes. We parked our car in Springdale, and rode through the pedestrian gate at the end of town. The park was just as crowded now with visitors eager to see the fall colors as any busy weekend in summer. But from atop our bicycles we once again felt that we had the park all to ourselves. This time we happened upon more bikers than that first ride in the summer, Still, it was for me the one and only way to enjoy the canyon. Fall is a beautiful time of year in the park. The air was warm and it was clear and sunny. The sun was low in the sky and brightly illuminated the cottonwoods, maples, oaks, and willows. With clear blue skies, I opted to crop out the sky where possible and concentrate on the brilliant fall foliage, even letting the canyon walls fall off into blackness.

Virgin River, Zion National Park, Utah

The water was chillier now than it was in the summer and we chose not to swim, If you have the opportunity to visit Zion at any time of the year, I heartily urge you to consider bringing or renting a bicycle and ditching the crowds. You'll still meet up with people, but they are much more likely to be gathered at the key bus stops. Riding a bike gives you the luxury of stopping at an infinite number of other locations along the road. One drawback for me as a photographer, was managing the photo gear on a bike ride. I packed a scaled down collection of equipment and regretted leaving some of the pieces behind. Mostly I struggled with my tripod. I used a bungie cord to attach the tripod to the handlebars. It was annoying threading it through the brake and gear cables every time we stopped. In the future I'll hopefully bring a much smaller tripod that will fit in my backpack.

Zion National Park, Utah

Virgin River, Zion National Park, Utah

Gianni Schicchi and Suor Angelica

As much as I love practicing landscape photography, I haven't managed to generate much income in that area. Instead, the core of my private business is photographing stage productions for archival storage. These images are then used by students and faculty for their resumes and portfolios. Most of my business is done with Brigham Young University, the same school where I am also employed. In my regular job at BYU I am a stage lighting designer and I work on plays, operas, ballets, dances, special events, and any number of other programs that take place on the stages at the Provo campus.

Suor Angelica

My most recent assignment at BYU was to provide the lighting design for two one-act operas by Italian composer Giacomo Puccini. The first opera, Suor Angelica, is the tragic tale of a woman who has been sent to live in a convent to atone for sins she committed earlier in life. She is the daughter of a wealthy and noble family, but because of the indiscretion and subsequent birth of a son, the family drove her into exile out of shame. Her aunt, also her guardian pays her a visit at the convent in order to secure her legal forfeiture of inheritance prior to the marriage of Angelica's sister. After being in the convent for seven years, Angelica asks her aunt about the well-being of her son. Angelica learns that her son has died two years previous to this visit. Heartbroken, Angelica signs the document and waives all right to the family fortune and the aunt leaves. Praying to the Virgin Mary, Angelica pleads for guidance. Inspired by her craft of caring for medicinal herbs, Angelica desires to reunite with her son and so decides to end her life by mixing a poisonous drink. Not until after drinking the mix does she realize she has committed a grave and mortal sin. She pleads further to the Virgin Mary to intercede in her behalf and save her. As the opera ends, Angelica lies prostrate on the floor and the audience is left to imagine the fate of a woman who's only thought was being once again with her son.

Suor Angelica

Gianni Schicchi, Brigham Young University, School of Music

The second of the two operas is the comedy, Gianni Schicchi. It is a story of a family come together at the passing of their patriarch, Buoso. The family discovers that Buoso left his vast fortune to the brothers of a local monastery. Enter Gianni Schicchi, a wise and daring friend of the family, also a bit of a scoundrel. Schicchi devises a plan wherein he will impersonate Buoso, call in a local notary, and rewrite the will before word spreads that Buoso has died. Schicchi warns the family that the penalty if they are caught is amputation of the hand and banishment from Florence. In the revised will, Schicchi leaves a piece of property to each of the relatives. The most valuable possessions (the villa in Florence, the mills at Signa, and the prize mule) however, he (as Buoso) leaves to his dear friend Gianni Schicchi. The family is furious, but they are held in check by the threat of an amputated arm and banishment.

Gianni Schicchi

These two short operas have beautiful passages of music and arias to melt your heart. There is a power to music that surpasses the spoken language. In the hands of one of the world's greatest composers, Puccini has created works that transcends generations and national languages. Both operas at BYU are sung in the original language, Italian.

Gianni Schicchi

I have been shooting stage productions for over ten years. It is a very niche market and I find few other photographers who work exclusively in this area. It is work like this that provides my livelihood as a photographer. The assignments are irregular, but I find my workload is about double this year. Over the life of this blog I will likely share other productions wherein I both generate the lighting design and photograph.

Gianni Schicchi

Wasatch Autumn

Virginia and I had been planning to visit the San Juan Mountains this fall. We try to get down there every few years, sometimes in Summer to see the wildflowers and sometimes in fall to see the aspen forests turn gold. I tentatively put it on my calendar for last week. The end of September or first week of October is usually a good time to see the fall colors there. As often happens, life gets in the way. We get busy, the kids need our attention, something comes up at work, and so we never made it. Virginia had an opportunity to visit the grandkids in Washington and jumped at the chance. It’s not a long drive to southwestern Colorado. I can be in Ridgway in 5½ hours. But, I had a photo shoot for hire in town and I didn’t feel much like camping by myself so I stayed at home.

Mt. Timpanogos, the backside, from Wasatch Mountain State Park

That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy some photography time in my own region. The Wasatch Front is a beautiful area this time of year. The maples, oaks, and willows of the lower canyons turn bright orange, red, and yellow. A magnificent tapestry of nature. There is a rich pioneer heritage in the state of Utah. It’s common to see pioneer inspired quilt samples used in various ways; sometimes purely and simply for the sake of art itself. I drove over Wasatch Mountain last weekend and stopped on the upper ridgeline to survey the Little Deer Creek drainage below me. I was immediately reminded of the patchwork quilts I see so often in local craft shows. The hillsides were ablaze in bright colors.

Little Deer Creek Drainage, Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah

During the week, I took short drives in Provo Canyon, only five minutes from my house. It’s often easiest to miss the beauty that’s directly under my nose. I think I am struck so powerfully by the beauty now because this season, of all the seasons, is so fleeting. I enjoy warm colors in spring and summer, but only find them on the tips of pretty wildflowers. In the fall, whole forests turn bright orange and yellow almost too saturate for the visual sense. But it is brief, and before long trees stand bare awaiting the blanket of snow that seems to last forever.

I hoped to have stormy skies this week while shooting in the canyon. Sadly, I was given bright blue skies and wonderfully warm daytime temperatures. It’s actually hard to complain about the conditions we’ve enjoyed this week.

Provo Canyon, Utah

Upper Falls, Provo Canyon, Utah

Provo Canyon, Utah

Utah Fall- Rediscovered

For the 30 years of my career as a stage lighting designer, I have hit my longest and hardest stretch of the year around the first week of October. I produced and designed a production for the University that celebrated the school's heritage and coincided with the annual Homecoming festivities. It was a challenging project and highly rewarding as a professional endeavor. It didn't come without sacrifice however. As I rode my bike to work each day I'd see the hills and mountains around our valley transition into their magnificent autumnal glory. There was nothing I could do but enjoy those few glances as I peddled my way back and forth to work. I longed to be hiking within the Lothlorien forests and photographing each tree, bush, and leaf.

Last year, I finally realized that I had little left within me to offer on this particular project and that it was time to turn it over to younger creative minds. And so I resigned. I still have work to do on other projects, but for now our annual Homecoming production is in the hands of others. That leaves me free to once again flee the valley for a few hours each afternoon and soak in as much as this brief season will allow.

On Monday I drove through Provo Canyon, only two miles from my home. Within minutes I was at the turnout for Bridal Veil Falls. I've seen this waterfall thousands of times over the years, but something about it this year caught my eye. I climbed a hill on the opposite side of the canyon, set my camera on my tripod, and watched the sunset in the western sky. The long shadows of Cascade Mountain and the twisted rock layers of the Wasatch Fault drifted over the waterfall. When it was almost entirely covered, except for a slight highlight at the upper-fall level, I made the image above. Somehow, the 15 minutes of fading light felt like a gift, a long awaited gift for all the autumns I've let slip through my fingers for the last 30 years.

Mount Timpanogos from Cascade Mountain, Utah

Last evening I climbed to the top of Buffalo Peak, near Cascade Mountain. There is a lovely matrix of meadows that offer views across Provo Canyon to Mount Timpanogos. I've shot there before, but it has been a particular joy to roam among the aspen and oak trees this week. It may not be much more than a few more weeks when the first snows blanket these fields and forests. For now they are here for me to enjoy.

Meadow on Cascade Mountain, Utah

The Huntress

Our latest adventure was in southern Utah. Our kids (@thebuslife) who guide and live in the Zion National Park area invited us to experience a slice of their life, canyoneering. Until now, the only canyons in Utah I’ve explored have been ones I’ve walked into with my boots planted firmly beneath me. This is the first time I’ve entered a canyon via a slender rope threaded through a harness on my waist. We departed from Springdale, UT as the sun was just beginning to rise, illuminating the tips of the Eagle Crags outside the park boundaries. We had a beautiful sky of buttermilk clouds. Our guides chose to introduce us to the sport with a canyon not too technical, but high in scenic beauty. The Huntress is a narrow slot accessed from US 89, between Mt. Carmel Junction and Kanab, Utah. They were anxious to get us to the slot, train us in repelling, and make our way through the canyon to a part Matt said would light up like a golden chamber in late morning. I was a little nervous about walking over the side of a sandstone cliff backwards and trusting this webbing system to hold me in place. I put on my best brave face because Matt was pointing a camera right at me. Over I went, and entered a magical world of the Huntress Slot Canyon.

Ribbons of light in The Huntress

The slot isn't terribly deep although the descent required 4 repels and several down climbs. We walked on a sandy bottom that in places was no wider than a narrow footpath. The walls were layered in candy stripes of sandstone. The drifting clouds overhead allowed sunlight to interplay on these stripes reflecting light back and forth. When clouds obscured the sun entirely the shadowy light introduced cooler tones that reflected off the cream-colored layers of sandstone. The camera sensor is able to register colors of light that our natural eyes don't immediately see. I used very modest tone adjustments in Lightroom and Photoshop to bring out the details of the rock. Not once have I pushed the saturation sliders in these images. Most of the color was brought out through midtown enhancements, adding contrast, increasing the vibrancy only slightly, and adjusting the black point of the image.

The canyon serpentined down further and further ahead and we followed each twist and turn with awe and wonder. Sarah and Matt allowed me to take my time to set the tripod and shoot to my heart's content. By the time we reached the final chamber where it was hoped we would find golden light we only found a modest glow. I was confident my camera sensor would pick up subtle nuances of light that our eyes were not entirely aware of. I was not disappointed at what I was able to capture.

We spent three hours on this hike and only travelled about two miles. But those two miles took us into a world unlike anything I've experienced before in my travels through the desert canyons of Utah over many years. That night they took us camping on BLM land beyond the perimeter boundary of the national park where we witnessed a beautiful sunset on the majestic cliffs of Zion National Park.

Snake Creek Canyon

Fall is slowly making its appearance in Utah these days. With the changing weather this weekend, we might see an acceleration. I’ve known about Snake Creek Canyon and Wasatch Mountain for years but I’ve wanted to drive it from the opposite direction. I picked up the rough dirt road from Cascade Springs near the Alpine Loop Road behind Mount Timpanogos. We drove up and over the top of Wasatch Mountain and dropped down into the Midway valley from the top of Snake Creek Canyon. It was a beautiful drive all the way, but the fall colors didn’t begin popping until the lower portion of Snake Creek. I made this image from a pullout. The sun was sinking slowly behind a bank of clouds. While the sun played the edge of the cloud, dappled light illuminated the scene. I waited 20 minutes until the rays of light washed across the only patches of changing leaves. Coming from the world of theatrical lighting design, I like the effect of spotlighting these brilliant patches.

A Family Portrait

Last week I shot a portrait for a family in my neighborhood. This is something I should probably begin doing a lot more. Of the various models one can use to run a photography business, selling landscape photos is not the most lucrative. There’s no question that roaming through forests, over mountains, and walking through meadows of wildflowers is where my heart lays. That is where my passion has always been. But one must also pay the bills. Since I can’t tap the family budget to support the photo habit, I’m left to generate income where I can. My main source of revenue is shooting archival photographs of dramatic productions in local theatres. On occasion, I’m asked to shoot a senior portrait, engagement announcement, or family portrait. Most of these requests come from within my own family network or neighborhood contacts. I enjoyed my time with this family Saturday evening. I’m currently taking a 12-week course in ‘Growing my Business” and it has me thinking about how I might expand my marketing and find new clients. The problem is, I don’t want to accelerate too much or grow too big. Just a wee-little growth would suit me just fine.

So, back to the family portrait shoot. Saturday was an overcast and cloudy day. From the time I got up in the morning, on through the afternoon we had diffuse light. I felt that while this wasn’t the best condition for photographing the landscape, it would serve well for a family portrait. I would have soft and even light for capturing faces. We planned to meet at 6:30pm and drive to a meadow on a local mountain I’d previously recommended to them. Our plan held good. On the way up the mountain, I looked out to the west, over Utah Lake and noticed the sky was clearing and that we would likely have the possibility for some nice sunset light. This started to get me more excited. We had a rough 3-mile dirt road to drive over before arriving at our site. Before, when it was cloudy I wasn’t in a hurry. I felt we had ample time to manage the diffuse lighting. With the chance of interacting with the setting sun, I became more anxious and felt compelled to hurry to set up my speed light. From where we parked the car we had a 10-minute walk onto the meadow to a location where Mt. Timpanogos would provide a stunning backdrop. I quickly set up my go-to lighting, a single speed light with a shoot through umbrella. I attached my wireless trigger for the strobe, under-exposed the background, adjusted the output of the flash for the proper exposure and I was ready in another 10 minutes. By now the sun was dipping below the cloud deck and I was getting streaks of warm light washing across the landscape. I had highlights on the mountain, the clouds were lighting up from underneath, the grass in the meadow was taking on a warm glow, and we were entering that brief but magical time when the lighting is making a star appearance. The next 30 minutes was a rush of moving people in and out of the frame since they wanted different combinations and arrangements. With the light constantly changing I was forced to repeatedly adjust my exposure on the background and then compensate with the strobe. The one thing I couldn’t pay strict attention to was the changing color balance. Since I was shooting in RAW, I felt that could easily be managed in post-production, so I let that slide. For the last 10 minutes of good light, the sun made a grand finale burst of bright color on the western horizon. We reoriented the family and quickly shot additional compositions against the last gasps of daylight.

Sure, I would have enjoyed applying my talents to capturing the landscape that evening. But the truth is, without that appointment I probably wouldn’t have been out shooting at all. It was an enjoyable way to spend my time with dear friends from my neighborhood. Today we have heavy rain, but it should be clearing in the afternoon. With fall in the air, the change bodes well for capturing autumn colors. Today I can be a landscape photographer and I can chase that evening light with forests of red, orange, and yellow. I only have another six hours to make my plans. Where will I go?

White Pine Lake

About ten years ago I was sitting in the doctor's office waiting my turn. As I gazed around the waiting room my eyes landed upon a photograph on the wall of White Pine Lake in the Wasatch Mountains. It was a black and white image of an alpine lake set among rugged mountain peaks. I'd heard of White Pine Lake, but in all my years of living along the Wasatch Front, I had never explored the hiking trails in Little Cottonwood Canyon. When I was young I sometimes skied Alta and Snowbird. That was pretty much the extent of my visits to that area. That day in the doctor's office, I determined White Pine Lake would be on my bucket list. The time to check it off the list didn't arrive until two weeks ago when my daughter challenged us to an evening hike. Sarah is my second child and is very adventurous and outdoorsy. She and Matt, her husband, spend their lives in great adventures guiding up mountains and exploring slot canyons. I admire the freedom they enjoy on their many wilderness treks. At the time of this writing they are living in Springdale, Ut, just outside Zion National Park where Matt works as a guide in the slot canyons. They live in their modified van and can be found on social media at @thebuslife and simplymountainpeople.com.

So, on a warm summer evening we drove up Little Cottonwood Canyon, parked our car at the trailhead, shouldered our knapsacks (me, my camera backpack), and headed up an old jeep mining road. It was a tough hike to be sure. We climbed steadily for five miles gaining 2,600 feet in elevation. The lake sits at an elevation of about 10,000 feet. Looking at it on a topo map this morning I see that it is only about a mile, as the crow flies, across a ridge-line from Silver Glance Lake that I blogged about several weeks back. Silver Glance Lake is accessed via American Fork Canyon.

We had a heavy snowfall last winter and consequently the snowpack was slow in melting back and releasing the upper meadows from the grip of winter. I was pleasantly surprised at the great abundance of wildflowers so late in the season. We reached the lake not more than 30 minutes before sunset. White Pine Lake sits in a granite bowl at tree line. The water is an intense shade of turquoise blue. We had the lake all to ourselves except for a young Colorado man who drove across the mountains just to do this hike and camp on the shores of this lake.

Since we were not prepared to spend the night, we quickly captured our beauty shots of the lake and ate our dinners while we rested from the strenuous climb. Our hike back to the car was mostly under the cover of night, our trail illuminated by the lights of our cell phones. Hiking downhill is often harder on my back than going up. About 1 1/2 miles from the car I hit the point where I was sure I had a knife protruding from my lower left back. As the pain intensified I became keenly aware that my camera backpack and me were not going to finish this hike together. Gratefully, Sarah volunteered to help me out and be my Sherpa for the remainder of the hike. That is a turning point in my photography/hiking career. Never have I asked for help in carrying my burden. That alone causes me great concern and now I face the consequences of my hiking as I enter the golden years of life. Thanks Sarah, for helping your old man out. 

Yant Flat and Yant Flat Cliffs

After I graduated with an MFA from the University of Wisconsin in 1988 I was offered a job in Provo, UT. We packed up our family of two children and moved back west where we were closer to family and familiar surroundings. I earned my undergraduate degree from Brigham Young University in the mid 1980’s. Utah felt like home to me. This is where we would raise our growing family for the next 30 years. Things were tight with six children and a university salary. We learned to have fun the simple way; hiking, camping, and scenic canyon drives. We were lucky in that Virginia’s grandmother lived in a small rural town in southern Utah. Hurricane was ideally situated to allow us to day trip to Zion National Park and other nearby locations. Madge extended an invitation to us to come visit whenever we wanted. And so, we did. We took every chance we had to pack up the kids and drive four hours; winter, spring, summer, or fall. We saw the desert in every splash of seasonal glory. I collected hiking books to guide us through many adventures. One would think that 30 years would provide ample time to explore every nook and cranny in the region. Now, Virginia and I are empty-nesters and we’re still finding new places to explore. Grandma Madge passed on many years ago, but Virginia’s parents live in the area and we still have the best getaway package one can find. It’s the perfect launching pad for our ongoing excursions. Last year I stumbled across a hike description that piqued my interest. Not far from the town of Silver Reef and below the Pine Valley Mountains, is a trailhead to an area called Yant Flat and the Yant Flat Cliffs, also sometimes referred to as the Candy Cliffs. The write-up described it as similar to Coyote Buttes. The cliffs are composed of Navajo sandstone outcroppings; wild undulating contours of ancient sand dunes. This week we made the drive to Mom’s house and day tripped into the hills west of Leeds and Silver Reef. It was an improved gravel road (FS 031), and mostly smooth driving in my Toyota 4-Runner. We found the trailhead without trouble and hiked 1.1 miles through Utah Juniper and Pinyon Pine forest to the edge of the bluff overlooking the Virgin River Valley and desert stretching to the Zion cliffs on the horizon. Yant Flat Cliffs are a swirl of ice cream colors poured over the rolling petrified sandstone hills. Our decent into the candy bowl proved a little challenging. We took the hard way down, the immediate slope below the end of the trail terminus. I later read that a gentler approach is further to the east, which is where we came out of the sandstone basin. I considered this an exploratory visit to allow me the opportunity to acquire a feel for the terrain. Our afternoon light was harsh. My polarizer helped mitigate the harshness a bit, but soft low-angle light would certainly set the swirling patterns off better. The surface of the Navajo Sandstone is fractured in places with hexagonal patterns that give a tortoise shell appearance. We hiked and explored for over an hour before making our way back to the trailhead. This is definitely an area that warrants further photography.

At a Glance, Silver Glance that is.

A little background information is called for to put this post in perspective. In a few short weeks, I will be 59-years old. I have been moderately active as a hiker throughout my life. Living along the Wasatch Front in northern Utah has given me immediate access to trails that lead through meadow and valley, up steep mountains and through various desert environments. In winter, I even take to snowshoeing on occasion. I moved to Utah in 1976 in my late teen years and immediately fell in love with the Rocky Mountains. My constant companion on my many hikes was a trusty Olympus OM-1. It was compact and lightweight. I remember throwing it into my knapsack with several lenses, an apple, a bottle of water, and several other miscellaneous objects, sling it over my back and set off on the trail. Back then my back was strong and I was carefree. Now, many years later, I’ve moved onto more complex camera equipment, and with that comes greater bulk and weight. Sadly, I don’t have an 18-year old back any longer. Though I love my Nikon D700 SLR and a great set of lenses (14-24, 24-70, 70-200), the weight is killing me. Later this fall I hope to purchase my first mirrorless camera system. Depending on the week I lean towards one manufacturer or another. Several weeks ago, I seriously considered a return to Olympus, but I hate to lose the full frame sensor I’ve grown accustomed to. Last week I was swayed back to the Sony a7II. I won’t make my final decision for several more months. In the meantime, my only option for photography is lugging my current system up mountain and down, and hoping my back and knees will make it one more week at a time. This last week Virginia and I decided to hike to Silver Lake, in the Lone Peak Wilderness in Utah County. It was a tough hike. I hoped to continue to Silver Glance Lake, a mile above Silver Lake. Silver Lake is a favorite hike for many in this area and gets a fair amount of traffic. On Friday afternoon, there were even several Boy Scout Troops packing in for an overnight stay. Silver Glance Lake, on the other hand is seldom visited, at least for now. There are no signs marking the way, though it can be found on topo maps. In and of itself, Silver Glance is not a spectacular lake, barely more than a puddle. But boy, what a setting! It would be hard to dream up a more spectacular background than mighty Mount Timpanogos. The trail to Silver Glance Lake is steep, and when combined with the altitude, makes for a bit more strenuous climb. Silver Lake sits at almost 9,000 feet, while Silver Glance Lake lies in a basin 1,000 feet higher. We made fairly good time to Silver Lake and rested for a bit, pumped water from the lake to fill our water bottles, and ate a few snacks. There were a dozen people already at the lake, but I knew the Boy Scouts were not far behind us. I scurried up the mountain another mile and found I had Silver Glance Lake all to myself. It was wonderful. The trail climbed through a valley filled with wildflowers at the peak of their bloom. Once at the lake, I climbed the talus slope on the far side to capture this image with Mt. Timpanogos in the background. I wish I could see it at sunset, but it would be a difficult hike down in the dark. Camping overnight is out because I can barely get up the mountain with my camera gear. There is no way I would make it with all the camping gear too. Maybe I need to find a horse to carry my load…, or a good Sherpa. After making a fine set of images, I set off on a rapid descent to catch up with Virginia and return to our car before dark. While the climb up to the lake was physically draining, the pounding of my knees and back going down hurt far worse. By the time I reached the car at Silver Lake Flat I knew I was done for the day. 

HandleyCraft Reboot

My first post in June was perhaps a bit misleading. I got off on a false start. It turns out I was not ready to begin my life as a blogger. Setting up the web page was far more work than I thought, even with using a starting template. I wasn’t sure I wanted to have a blog, or what I would write about. Now that I have had two months to think about it and the patience the last two days to persevere through the technicalities of going online, I hope to spend a leisurely two hours a week maintaining it. The intent of this blog is to promote my photography business. Along the way, I hope to share the inspiration, skill, and adventures behind the photographs. There is a gallery page associated with this blog where eventually I will sell my photographs, although currently the business is not dependent on that activity. HandleyCraft Photography was organized as an entity to shoot archival photographs of university stage productions. However, my passion in photography coincides with my love of the outdoors. Shooting landscapes is always a good excuse to take a hike. Of particular interest to me are wildflowers, both as specimens and as an element in the overall landscape. I begin chasing the annual wildflower bloom in the high desert of California in late February and finish at the tops of the Mountains of Utah in August, just in time to watch the aspen leaves gracefully fade to golden yellows in September. Winter is my slow season for making photographs, although there is much beauty in the quiet and cold snowscape. I hope you will find enjoyment and inspiration through the images I share on this platform.