Aviation Arrows

Last summer, Virginia and I spent a week on the west coast of Oregon. One of the highlights was visiting lighthouses. When I returned home I ordered several books about the history of lighthouses. I spent almost a year learning about their construction, placement, wild tales, and how they serve as beacons of hope in storm-tossed episodes of life. I am always fascinated by the influence of light in our mortal lives. There are great anecdotal stories and scriptural analogies of how light constantly directs us when our trials seem most hopeless and dark. I collect these stories to use in lessons and various teaching moments.

Not long ago, I came across a piece of aviation history that I found interesting in a similar manner to lighthouses. In the 1920’s, just as civil aviation was beginning, there was a push to develop aviation routes across America that would be used to transport mail. In these early days before radar, the pilots navigated primarily by physical landmarks. That was fine during the day, but there quickly developed a need for pilots to find their way in the dark. This initiated the construction of Aviation Arrows along commonly followed corridors directing the planes where to go. These Aviation Arrows were spaced approximately ten miles apart. They were 50-70 feet long and made of concrete. One arrow pointed the way to the next. In the center of the arrow was constructed a tower about 50’ tall, capped with a flashing beacon and lights that illuminated the arrow. Some of the beacons were electrified and powered by generators, and others were lit with simple kerosene lamps. The history of Aviation Arrows is brief, but an important step in the story of mail delivery.

While reading a local newspaper several months ago, I learned that there are many arrows still to be found upon the landscape, often in remote locations. I was surprised to find that there are 6 Aviation Arrows in and around the area of St. George, Utah, a place that Virginia and I often visit. This last weekend we happened to be in southern Utah and we decided to locate and photograph a few of them.

Aviation Arrow on the Bloomington Overlook.

The first aviation arrow we went to was at a place called the Bloomington Overlook, a steep cliff overlooking the I-15 corridor south of St. George. It was an easy hike to a water tank on a hill above the Southgate housing development. The panoramic view of the area was magnificent. The arrow was not difficult to find and minus the tower, was well preserved. This arrow pointed a northerly direction to help pilots flying from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City. The next arrow, directly in line with the Bloomington Overlook is located almost 11 miles away on a tilted bluff called Shinob Kibe.

Aviation Arrow on Shinob Kibe, St. George, Utah. In the distance is the Bloomington Overlook.

Shinob Kibe (pronounced Shih-no-bee Ky-bee or just Schnobki) is a Paiute name signifying Sacred Mountain (Shinob- Great Spirit, and Kibe- Mountain). It is named for a Paiute deity who protected the native inhabitants from other warring tribes. This butte is sacred to the native Americans. It is a place of worship. There is an ancient medicine wheel atop the butte. Stories are told that Father Escalante spoke to the Indians on this knoll in 1776.  This arrow was a bit tougher to reach. It required a short but very steep ascent to the top of the butte. We reached the top and found the arrow not more than 15 minutes before the sun set. I had just enough time to capture a half dozen images before the light began to fade. With a steep descent to the car, we headed down so as not to be caught in the dark. There is great material for me to work from when putting a lesson together about following the signs, lighting the way, taking a leap of faith and flying through the dark to the next beacon...

A Simple Sunrise in Utah Valley

I woke up early Saturday morning and wanted to shoot a beautiful sunrise. It was my 60thbirthday, and instead of sleeping in I wanted to enjoy the beauty of the world I live in. I didn't want to drive far. It's been a long time since I've visited the south shore of Utah Lake. There are beaches lined with reeds and cattails. I thought maybe I could get an image of a spectacular colored sunrise reflected in the waters of the lake with Mount Timpanogos in the background. I've wanted to play with my heavy ND filters that would allow me to smooth the surface of the lake and create an impressionist surface of reflected light. The night before, I checked the Photographers Ephemeris and was happy to see that there was a good forecast for early morning color.

I drove south on I-15 for about 15 miles and then drove west into the flatland south of the lake. It was still dark when I arrived at the shore of the lake. I pulled off to the side of the road and noticed an unusually thick swarm of insects. I stepped out of the car and could hear a continuous buzz, like heavy static of power dancing on the power lines across the road. It was the buzz and vibration of a million insects. The bugs began swarming me and I felt I would soon be devoured. It was just now that I realized these were mosquitoes. Several weeks ago, there were headlines in our local news that the Zika virus was now detected in the state and along the Wasatch Front. Not wanting to become a statistic myself, I dove back into the car. As it got lighter, I became more and more aware of the millions of bugs that swarmed around me. I knew it would be bad news to walk down to the lakeshore. I had repellant with me, but somehow, I felt it would be useless against the millions of predators outside my windshield.

The clouds in the sky were beginning to catch an early morning glow from the rising sun. I decided to drive back towards the freeway and maybe find a scene in the farmlands of the south valley. As I drove back, I passed a column of swirling insects that resembled a tornado, maybe 30' high beside the road. There was no way I would step foot outside my car in this bug apocalypse. The further I got from the lake, the fewer the bugs seemed to be. By the time I was several miles distance from the shoreline, it finally felt safe to pull over, get out of the car, and set up my tripod. It was difficult to find a shot to the east and the mountains that didn't involve shooting through power lines. I crossed a side road that had the poles on the west side of the road and a clear shot to the east. The clouds were beginning to light up, so I pulled over, jumped out of the car, and quickly setup my tripod. It wasn't the spectacular shot over lake I envisioned. On the other hand, I wasn't skunked either.

It's been two days since I shot the above image. Luckily, I haven't detected a single bite from those brief few moments I was out of the car, on the side of the road, overlooking Utah Lake. I doubt I return to the shore of the lake until after the first freeze.

The First Hints of Fall

It’s been a hot summer, and dry as well. The past week has been slightly cooler and I have hopes that we have finally turned the corner. Looking up at the hills around Utah Valley, I’m beginning to see slight tinges of red and orange. With my knee surgery last week, I know I won’t be going on long hikes with a heavy camera backpack for the rest of the summer. I thought about what I might blog about this week. It occurred to me that maybe I could drive into the mountains and look for an early changer among a summer backdrop. I had an idea to isolate a maple or scrub oak that was already jumping into fall, ahead of its companions.

It's a good day for photography when it starts out happening upon my favorite forest animal.

At the top of the Alpine Loop Road, there is a turn-off to Cascade Springs. Halfway to the springs, there is a dirt road I hadn’t yet explored: Mill Canyon Spring. That was my destination.

A three-image stitch panorama of the backside of Mount Timpanogos from the Mill Canyon Spring road.

To be truthful, I struggled to find that lone maple in fall color. The grasses and shrubs were clearly dressed for autumn and the aspens are still healthy and full of chlorophyll. What impressed me the most about the drive to Mill Canyon Spring, was the amazing and expansive views of the backside of Mount Timpanogos. There is no question I’ll be returning here when the aspens drift into brilliant yellow. With a sunset behind Timp, it could be a spectacular image.

I returned to the Cascade Springs Road and drove further east. As I dropped into Deer Creek Valley, I discovered hillsides of maples and oaks slipping into hues of orange and red. I hiked and bushwhacked through the scrub, and went as far as my knee would allow. I found one orange maple, a decent specimen on a ridge overlooking a draw.

I’m excited for the change in season although it also brings us that much closer to the winter snows. I love the summer and I endure the winter. Living in a land with four seasons is a wonderful experience.

The Art of Making a Selfie

For the sake of defining "Selfie", I'll state that selfies are photographs that don't involve an additional person behind the camera operating the controls. There are two types of selfies I'm familiar with. Often, when Virginia and I are out on our excursions, we'll use the iPhone to capture a quick photo of us in front of a memorable location that we want to share with the kids. These photos are often characterized by several qualities. I’ll use the photo below as an example:

We took this photo at the Grand Canyon last month. iPhone selfies are usually very closeup because my arm is only so long, and I extend it as far as I am able. In almost all my selfies like this, my shoulder is in the bottom right corner. If you look at Virginia, her eyes are directed at the camera. Mine on the other hand, are offset because I’m looking at the control button to snap the photo. These are very presentational photographs. They are formal, they don't necessarily tell a story, and they are usually static. This image captures a moment in time and simply says, "hey, we're at the Grand Canyon".

My daughter Sarah and her husband Matt blog about their life living in a van and traveling the country climbing, hiking, skiing, and anything else that involves outdoor living. You can find them on Instagram at @thebuslife and simplymountainpeople.com. I've enjoyed their posts over the years and I particularly like their selfie compositions. While we were enjoying downtime at a family reunion this weekend, I asked Sarah to run me through the steps of setting up one of her selfies. This type of selfie involves a little more work. First, it requires the use of a tripod to hold the camera, and a self-timer to trip the shutter release. The self-timer is a common control on most cameras these days. Whereas the image from the Grand Canyon was a simple one-off snap, staged scenes necessitate multiple exposures to get everything right. We set the scene up, evaluated the compositional balance, moved objects around, and placed ourselves in the scene. Because the camera is not at arm's length, Sarah and I are more deeply imbedded in the scene. After each snap, we'd run back to the camera, evaluate how "natural" we look, reset and do it again. We repeated each scene 6-8 times before we felt we had a good image, and then moved onto the next.

I chose a career that placed me behind the scenes and not on stage. I've never liked being "the actor". Even a simple exercise with my daughter made me self-conscious before a camera. It was good to have several goes at it to allow me the opportunity to relax. I found these mini scenes to be fun, and a lot more narrative than simply holding up an iPhone. Extra points for using a dog and a 5-year old. Maybe in the months ahead, I'll get Virginia to play along with me.

The West is on Fire

It seems that every summer I hear, "This summer is the worst wildfire season on record". And this summer is no exception. Wildfires are burning in all states across the southwest United States. Earlier this week, Utah Valley filled with smoke drifting in from the fires in California. In the latter half of the week, a fire erupted in the southeastern part of Utah County, near Scofield Reservoir. The California fires gave us a moderate haze, but the fires in Utah proper are now giving us choking smoke that penetrates all building structures, leaving us with health warnings and emergency alerts.

Sunsets are an odd event under these conditions. Of course we get the orange tinted skies like one would expect, but also, the sun becomes a glowing orb that actually records on the camera sensor. Another interesting aspect is that the sun doesn't set at the horizon. Because the smoke in the valley is so dense, the sun fades away to nothing about 5° to 7° above the horizon. The sky simply glows reddish orange overhead for the next 20 minutes.

There is a beauty to these conditions, but I think I would prefer not to enjoy it at the expense of our native forests. I hoped to photograph the Perseid Meteor shower this weekend. I may go out early tomorrow morning. The smoke in our area is quite deep however. Because of other commitments, I can't leave town. The best I can do is drive into the mountains near my home and maybe reach 8,000-9,000 feet in elevation. I'm not sure that will be enough to get me above the level of smoke. In any case, this is becoming our summer norm. I look forward to cooling temps and the return of monsoon storms.

Cascade Meadow, Wasatch Mountains, Utah

Winter in Wallsburg

You may be thinking, "Winter in Wallsburg, but it's only August". I've been crazy busy the last month. Our drive to Minnesota and back, plus the week in Grand Canyon, left us exhausted. I also have a regular day job that needs my attention. So, between being worn out from traveling, catching up at work, and trying to reclaim my yard and garden, I didn't get out to shoot this week. I don't want to skip a post, so I dug into my archives for a shoot I did in February and never wrote about in the blog.

Wallsburg is a small rural community 27 miles from my house. It's a scenic drive up Provo Canyon and past Deer Creek Reservoir to get there. I have visited Wallsburg several times over the years, but never found it photographically interesting until this last winter when it was blanketed in snow. The winter landscape was simpler and somehow more orderly. The graphic images of the fence lines, irrigation pipes, bare trees, and white fields was very striking. Compositions came easy to me on this day. I originally attempted to render the images in color. I later discovered that what little color was present, didn't add to the impact of the photograph. The black and white quality greatly enhances the geometric layout of the fields. In these images, form is more important to the mood of the photograph than the beauty that color adds to the presentation.

It's been hot in Utah. It seems wildfires are happening all around us. The sky has been smoky all week. Several nights ago, we had a beautiful sunset because the monsoon moisture was overhead, and with the added smoke, we had wonderful rays of light that turned deep orange and red as the sun set. Sadly, I was busy that evening with a service project and couldn't run out with my camera and shoot the sky. With temperatures in the upper 90's, it is refreshing to look at these images of snow.

A Week at the Grand Canyon, North Rim

We spent the week at the Grand Canyon. I made a reservation six months ago in the hopes that I would catch the monsoon storms that typically come through the region in late July and August. It’s hard to guess the weather six months in advance. As it turned out, there was a warning posted by the National Weather Service for excessive heat in the southwestern United States. St. George, Utah hit 112° almost every day this week. We were on the North Rim however, where the daytime air temperature was a pleasant 85°. While we didn’t witness the storm activity I was hoping for, there was still enough cloud cover to make for interesting photographs and I shot several lovely sunsets and one very nice sunrise. My shooting during the day was under harsh lighting conditions. I got a few decent mid-day photographs, but they will need to be rendered in black and white to look nice.

Somewhere along the Cape Royal road on our way to watch the sunset on the second evening.

I’m still practicing the proper exposure balance between foreground and an evening or morning sky. Most of these images were made using a 3-stop hard edge graduated neutral density filter. We watched a thunderstorm across the canyon on the south rim one of the evenings. Since I also added a 10-stop ND filter to blur the motion of the clouds, I was hopeful to capture some lightning strikes. During the 8-minute exposures, I recorded several bolts of lightning, but they didn’t push through the exposure well. When I zoom in, I can see them. On the other hand, I had a lot of noise show up in the image. Now I need to study how to eliminate noise on these long exposures.

8-minute exposure to soften the edges of the clouds at sunset. In the center of the frame is an active lightning storm. When I zoom tight, I can see several lightning bolts. They don't read well in the image however. This image is not useable or printable except as a learning tool. There are far too many artifacts and digital noise due to the long exposure.

Detail from the above image. If you can look closely, there are numerous dots and flecks of digital guano that resulted from the long exposure.

The Scamp trailer was a joy to live in and it met our expectations in every way. We laughed to ourselves several times at the juxtaposition of our little compact trailer surrounded by the mammoth 5th wheelers parked around us. The sleeping arrangement is a little tight, but we like each other enough to snuggle the night away. It will take a while to make it feel like home. I think we have ample storage. It’s just a matter of figuring out what all is needed, and then where to put it.

Upon returning from our sunset shoot one evening, our camp neighbor captured this image as I backed into our site illuminating our Scamp with our taillights.

Sunset light on Wotan's throne, Cape Royal

Sunset from Cape Royal, North Rim, Grand Canyon

Sunrise on Mount Hayden, Point Imperial, North Rim, Grand Canyon

North Rim, ablaze in sunset light from Cape Royal

The Life of a Scamp

Last week I blogged about my shooting experience at Devils Tower in Wyoming. Perhaps it seemed a little random to be at that particular location. Devils Tower National Monument is in a remote corner of the state. I suspect that most people who visit there are on their way to some other location and make a short stopover to see the tower. That was the situation for us. We were on our way to Minnesota and Devils Tower happened to be almost exactly the midway point. Why Minnesota? Virginia and I have been looking forward to my retirement for several years. One of the key components is having a travel trailer to allow us to visit all the National Parks and many of the various State Parks in between. For years we’ve used a popup tent trailer when we’ve journeyed out with our children. Now the children are grown and gone and we would like a little more comfort. The downside to a popup is the work involved with getting to your bed. At every location there is 30 minutes to an hour of setting up. We want a trailer that we can park with the bed ready for us to crash into. The tent trailer didn’t offer much insulation from the weather and that limited our camping season. We want to camp year-round and have some protection from the cold, wet, and wind. Our preference is to stay in National and State Parks. Sometimes those campgrounds can get a little noisy with dogs barking, generators whirring, and children playing. A hard wall unit gives us more privacy from the outside world. We’ve been looking into different models for about two years. We immediately gravitated to the sleek fiberglass trailers made by Scamp, Casita, Escape, etc. We studied the different plans meticulously and talked to different salesmen. We went to Quartzite, Arizona in February because there was a fiberglass camper roundup. We wanted to see the different styles and walk inside them. I’m a little tall, 6’2” and I needed to see if I could stand up inside and then also fit into the bed. For two years we’ve stewed over this purchase.

Worn out from three hard days of driving, we spent two nights at Badlands National Park on our way home. The campground in the park was full, but just outside the park, in the town of Interior, we found a nice campground with easy access to the park.

Two weeks ago, our salesman at Scamp called to tell us that they had a 16’ unit in the floorplan of our choice; ready to go. Normally, once you place your order, there is an 8-10 month waiting period for the trailer to be manufactured. This particular trailer was done up for a photo shoot for the new brochure coming out at the end of the year. Jim called to ask if we were interested in buying this one, ready to go. Things came together easily at the bank, and before we knew it, we put down our $500.00 deposit, rearranged our schedules and we were on the road to Minnesota to pick up our new trailer at the Scamp factory in Backus.

The name Badlands conjures up thoughts of an uninhabitable wasteland, void of life. That is unless you happen upon it during the full bloom of the summer wildflowers. Crossing the great prairies of the US, we witnessed miles of grassland interspersed with vast stretches of brilliant colored wildflowers.

It was a quick trip. We drove 10-12 hours each day. I can’t do the long drives like I used to when I was much younger. I have little desire to see America at 70mph through the window of my Toyota 4Runner along the Interstates of the US. At most, I want to put a cap of 300-400 miles/drive and preferably travel the backroads where I can more truly see the land and the people. I didn’t have that choice this week. We did overnight an extra day at Badlands National Park in South Dakota. It was a good rest and a beautiful time of the year to see that park.

The greatest advantage to traveling the backroads of America is happening upon the curiosities that escape the view along Interstate routes. Passing through Alliance, Nebraska we discovered Carhenge where a local farmer decided to recreate an American version of ancient construction.

Carhenge: As interesting a stop as one could imagine of manmade origin.

Set amidst miles and miles of cornfields: Carhenge

Six months ago, I made a reservation for a one week stay at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. We were planning to use the tent trailer. Now, with the new Scamp, we have an opportunity to break into a more refined style of trailer camping. We leave Sunday afternoon. We’ll overnight in southern Utah for a visit at the in-laws, and then on Monday, make our way to the park. My draw to the Grand Canyon in late July is with the hopes of seeing seasonal monsoonal moisture pass over the canyon, hopefully at sunset. With a little luck, we’ll have some terrific storms with lightning and lots of awesome clouds. Happy travels everyone.

Metering at Devil's Tower

We left Utah Valley yesterday morning and drove across most of Wyoming. The I-80 corridor through the southern stretch of the state is endless miles of empty high desert. It’s not my favorite piece of road. We turned north at Rawlins and crossed the great western migration trails; the Mormon Trail, the Oregon Trail, California Trail, etc. We visited the LDS Church visitor center at Martin’s Cove and learned about the Willie/Martin Handcart tragedy. We also visited Independence Rock. The further north we drove the better the scenery became. Our destination for the evening was Devil’s Tower in the furthest north eastern corner of Wyoming. We tried Airbnb for the first time and slept in a teepee on property adjoining the national monument. It was a lot of fun, especially during the rip-roaring thunderstorm that passed overhead between midnight and 1:30am. The rain poured down on our little teepee on the prairie.

I had a great time photographing Devil’s Tower. With all the new filters I’ve purchased in the last six months, I’ve realized a weakness that has developed in my photography. Many years ago, before I began my transition from film to digital, I purchased a handheld light meter. This meter, a Sekonic L-508, measures both reflective and incident light. The more I drifted into digital photography, the less I used my handheld meter. In a word, I became lazy. I learned to respond to the LCD screen on the back of my camera, chimp the photo and reshoot if necessary. Digital files don’t cost a cent and I found it “easier” to refer to my histogram and monitor any clipping channels. While there is nothing inherently wrong with this process, I realize it isn’t the most accurate method to manage light. This problem became very pronounced once I began using graduated neutral density filters. The main problem being, I couldn’t determine which ND grad to use. It was cumbersome using the reflective meter in my camera to take multiple measurements in the scene. The matrix metering mode averaged in parts of the scene I didn’t want included, and the spot viewing angle through the lens that gathers information for the measurement is too wide. Without gathering accurate information off the meter, my eye was unable to distinguish how many stops to hold back the sky. The LCD on my camera didn’t tell me with enough accuracy if I had blended the exposure properly. The LCD screen is only a 3-inch jpg version of my full frame file. It was frustrating to upload files only to find the exposure blend didn’t look natural. I’ve spent the last several weeks re-reading my manuals on handheld metering. The advantage to my Sekonic meter is a very accurate reading either incident or reflective, much more accurate than my onboard camera meter. The Sekonic will give me a 1° angle spot measurement if needed. And nothing is more accurate than an incident meter measurement when the subject is in the same light as the camera. With scenes that require graduated neutral density filters, I can easily spot meter the foreground and the sky, determine the difference in exposure between the two, and choose the proper ND grad filter. I practiced this last evening at Devil’s Tower with a great amount of accuracy. As I use it more, the process will come quicker and more accurate. I felt I was taking more control over my photograph, managing my light in a responsible manner, and achieving a better product. There is a lot to say for the ease of the digital workflow. But there is probably more to say for learning and practicing the craft of creating a photograph and not rely on the computer programming of the machine. On average, the machine, computer, or camera will probably give good and accurate results. On the other hand, art is rarely average. Happy shooting everyone.

Escaping the Heat

It has been very hot around our home, much like it’s been warm throughout the country. We live in Utah Valley, at the foot of the Wasatch Mountains. We often get a cool canyon breeze in the morning. It’s very refreshing. Lately though, that isn’t even enough to make it comfortable. We don’t have central air in our home, just an old-fashioned swamp cooler. It takes the edge off the heat and makes the afternoons bearable. On days that are really warm, like this past weekend, the best medicine is an escape to the mountains. The elevation of our home is about 4,600 ft above sea level. In 30-40 minutes we can be above 8,000 ft. Add to that the cover of an aspen forest and a gentle breeze and we have the perfect escape from the oppressing weather of the southwest desert.

Friday evening, we drove over the Alpine Loop Road, past the Sundance ski resort and around Mt. Timpanogos. At the saddle, before we dropped into American Fork Canyon, we got out for a gentle hike on the Horse Flat Trail. It’s a two-mile loop through alpine meadows and aspen forests. We only encountered two other groups of hikers on our outing, so we also enjoyed a beautiful solitude.

In the forest, the ferns and cow’s parsnip were exceedingly tall. In places these plants towered over my head, and I am over six feet tall. I suspect there were plants pushing 8 feet in height, a true fairyland.

The image above is a focus stack made from three images to give me detail throughout the photograph. I used a polarizer even though the sun was below the ridge to the west. The polarizer removed glare from the leaves and deepened the saturation of the fern fronds. It’s a simple image, but beautifully captures the cool and soothing power of mountain air and a grove of aspen trees.

Lost among the fern and cow's parsnip

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