Theodora

As much as I would like to continue sharing photographs of this beautiful time of year from the mountains around Utah Valley, I didn’t get out this week. Sometimes my regular job gets in the way of having fun. I spent almost every night this week in the theatre and even a very long day on Saturday. I lit the opera, Theodora for the BYU School of Music.

Theodora, BYU School of Music

Theodora was not exactly written to be staged as a dramatic work. It’s more of an oratorio, much like The Messiah. It’s an interesting story and there are dramatic elements, but the presentation is mostly based on choral work and not so much visual storytelling. Theodora is the story of a Christian convert during Roman times. She is persecuted for her beliefs, jailed, threatened with rape, and eventually killed. In the process of her trials, she is befriended by a Roman soldier, Didymus, who attempts to save her life by exchanging clothes with her to facilitate her escape from prison. However, the attempt fails and Didymus is killed alongside Theodora. Although the story has a tragic ending, there are elements of courage, atonement, redemption, forgiveness, love, sacrifice, and honor.

Theodora, BYU School of Music

The music is beautiful and the story is rich in emotion. The only downside of the presentation is a tendency to seem a bit static. Our director chose to stage the opera in a mix between Roman influence and post-apocalyptic times. I kept the lighting stark, a bit cold and harsh in the scenes with the Romans and heathens. And then slightly warmer in scenes involving the Christians. I shot these images at ISO 6400, keeping my aperture low (2.8-4.0), and a shutter speed between 1/500 and 1/1000 most of the time to freeze the action. My white balance was set at 3250.

Waterfall Weekend

I had an itch this week to visit a waterfall. I also had an itch to get out and hike. Lately, most of my photography seems to result from roadside pullouts, drive by shootings. This weekend I longed to hit the trail with a fully loaded backpack of camera gear and visit some nearby waterfalls. Neither of the falls I hiked to were long distances from the car, only a few miles. But simply wandering through the woods again was deeply refreshing to my soul. We’ve had a lot of rain the last several weeks so the ground was well soaked. In places I walked through boggy patches of slippery mud. The air was thick with a rich earthy smell and the trees still dripped occasionally from the high levels of humidity. I don’t think there is a more pleasant smell than that of a well-soaked forest.

Stewart Falls, Mount Timpanogos, Utah

Mount Timpanogos is my backyard, well actually it is my front yard since I can look out the front window of my home and watch it daily. Around its perimeter are waterfalls that drain the upper snowy slopes or runoff from numerous springs. These waterfalls run year-round but are not always easily accessible. In another few weeks the backroads will close and one can only reach the trailheads by snowshoe or snowmobile. So, knowing my time was growing short, I drove to Aspen Groves to hike to Stewart Falls.

In the 1970’s, when I first moved to Utah, Stewart Falls was one of the first treasures I found. It wasn’t nearly as popular as it is now. The population in the valley has grown tremendously since those days. It seems I never visit this falls in the summer because of the crowds that gather. It’s the end of the season now and I only crossed paths with a half dozen other hikers.

Battle Creek Falls, Mt. Timpanogos, Utah

The other waterfall I hiked to was Battle Creek Falls, on the front, or valley side of the Mountain. I arrived an hour before sunset, but because the falls faced directly into the setting sun, I waited for the sun to slip below the rim of the canyon so I could shoot in even light. I shot well past sunset and enjoyed this waterfall all to myself.

Battle Creek Falls, Mount Timpanogos, Utah

These are simple images. It was fun playing with my 3-stop neutral density filter, allowing me to slow my exposure enough to smooth out the cascading water. I shot some reference shots without the ND filter in which I froze the motion of the falls, but the images lack the dreaminess and ethereal beauty of implied motion. Stewart Falls was shot with 1 second exposures. For Battle Creek Falls I used a 4 second exposure.

Changing Seasons

I love this time of year. The changes from fall to winter, winter to spring, and spring to summer are not always abrupt. They transition slowly. But early fall is a different story. The shift is magical and sometimes comes with a surprise. I normally try to shoot at least once a week so I can keep the blog alive and well. This week I ventured into the nearby mountains three times. I say I ventured, but really I was drawn up. The lure was almost irresistible. We’ve had a long hot dry summer. I can’t remember the last rain that fell. This week a series of storms swept over the state and drenched us. They started out as warm storms, but later in the week turned much colder. The convergence of fall colors at peak and a cold mountain storm with snow is guaranteed to bring gorgeous landscapes into focus.

Aspen Groves, Alpine Loop Road, Utah County, Utah

The image above was taken on Wednesday evening at sunset after the first wave of storms swept through Utah. I hoped to witness a beautiful sunset over Mount Timpanogos, so Virginia and I drove up into the mountains after work, hiked a 1/4 mile into the woods to a meadow, and patiently waited for the sun to set. The sky never lit up magically like I hoped. I feared that the next set of storms would strip the trees bare of leaves and this might be my only opportunity to photograph the rich golden aspen against the mountain peak.

Intersection of two seasons on Mount Timpanogos, Utah

But the leaves held on. The next storm was much colder and much wetter. When I looked out the window Friday morning, there were two cloud decks; high billowy clouds overhead and wispy clouds hanging on the lower flanks of the mountain. I was tempted to start my daily chores, but the mountain was calling to me with a forceful plea. I gave in, grabbed my camera gear, and ran for the hills. I only had a few hours because of other commitments waiting at home. I found a pullout on the Alpine Loop Road that overlooks an area I call “my million-dollar view”. The problem with shooting from the edge of the road however was the foreground shrubs and low trees blocked part of my shot. I climbed atop my 4Runner and shot from my roof. That helped some. The real million-dollar view is from a trail on the other side of the road. I hiked there on Saturday morning, but the light wasn’t quite as good. The image at the top of this post was made Saturday morning from the higher vantage point that I hiked to.

Aspen Groves on Mount Timpanogos, Utah

The light I had Friday morning was hard to beat. I had beautiful fall color, a mountain tipped with the first snow of the year, and dappled light across the aspen forest. It’s hard to beat a week like this.

Dappled light on aspen forest

Alpine Loop Road saddle between American Fork Canyon and Provo Canyon.

Aspen forest on Mount Timpanogos

Spotlight on aspen forest

Fall fern foliage in aspen forest

My “Million Dollar View” from the Alpine Loop Road.

High Fall in the Wasatch Mountains

This is a glorious time of year in my area. The mountains are ablaze in color. The lower hills are brightly adorned in oranges, reds, and soft golden colors of the oaks and willows, while the high mountains are crowned in vibrant yellows as the aspen trees turn. We made two trips into the mountains this week. I almost made a third trip last evening, but duties at home kept me tied down. When the season is so fleeting, it’s hard to let a moment pass by. We’ll enjoy the sweep of color across the state for the next month, although it won’t always be at my doorstep as it is now. It begins in the high mountains in late September and gradually works its way down in elevation until it sweeps through Zion National Park around the first weekend of November. For the next five weeks, we’ll likely chase the autumn wave through the state of Utah. It is all the more beautiful when we witness and enjoy the scene under truly magical light of the setting sun.

Mount Timpanogos, Utah

The above image was taken from Mill Spring Canyon looking upon the backside of Mount Timpanogos. Virginia and I drove up there on Wednesday evening to watch the sunset. I had a feeling something nice might happen. I enjoyed making this image, but the real magic happened about 30 minutes later immediately after the sunset. I didn’t even move my tripod between the two shots, only the focal length of my lens has changed. What a difference a half hour makes.

Mount Timpanogos, Utah

We wanted to see the aspen forest at Guardsman Pass on Friday evening, but roadwork was taking place and we couldn’t get to the overlook between Big Cottonwood Canyon and the backside of Wasatch Mountain. We had two choices, drive over the mountain into Park City or backtrack to Wasatch Mountain State Park. Park City is mostly evergreen forest with scattered aspen and lots of condominiums so we chose to explore the State Park.

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah

Wasatch Mountain State Park is relatively young, established in 1968, a mere 50 years ago. Over those years there has not been much development in the way of trail building, infrastructure, and roads. That is probably the best thing it has going for it. It seems to be mostly noted for a few superb mountain biking trails. We parked at the upper lot for the WOW trail and wandered into the woods and through a series of meadows.

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah

We stayed until the sun sank below the ridgeline and plunged the meadow into deep shadow. As we made our way back to our car, we felt incredibly blessed for the magnificent world around us. We dropped into the town of Midway for dinner just as the sky lit up in waves of pink and magenta clouds. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful excursion into the mountains on just another fall day in Utah.

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah

Finding Gold in the San Juan Mountains

I don’t have a lot to say about this week’s adventure. I’ll mostly let the images do the talking for me. Virginia and I first began visiting the San Juan Mountains in 2010 and since then we’ve been a handful of times, sometimes in summer to see the wildflowers and sometimes in fall to see the autumn colors. I think it would be worth our time to explore there even in winter. All last week I was seeing reports coming out of Colorado indicating that the aspen trees were rapidly turning color. I watched in anticipation when the reports came in for Red Mountain Pass, a stretch of the Million Dollar Highway between Ouray and Silverton. Towards the end of last week, the color change was approaching 75% and that it wouldn’t be long before the peak. It was a bit of a last-minute decision to throw a few pieces of extra clothing in the trailer along with enough foodstuffs to see us through the weekend. We climbed aboard the Toyota 4Runner, and headed for Ridgway State Park, our base camp for two days. Ridgway is only 5½ hours from our home and a terrific place to camp. For movie buffs, Ridgway is the setting for the 1969 John Wayne movie, True Grit. Unfortunately, the northern portion of the San Juan Mountains was not as far along in the color change as the area around Red Mountain. We explored CR-5 and CR-7, both beautiful dirt road drives into the Mount Sneffels wilderness area. We enjoyed sunrise on this side of the San Juan Loop on Friday morning. Later in the day we drove down the Million Dollar Highway and stopped in Ouray and Silverton. The real show of the trip was the stretch of aspen forest through Red Mountain Pass; truly an exceptional experience.

From County Road 7, outside of Ridgway, Colorado. Mount Sneffels in the background.

Red Mountain Lake

Red Mountain Pass

After the Burn

When I first came to Utah in the 1970’s, I quickly fell in love with the mountains. One of the first locations I frequented was Cascade Springs, only about 25 miles from Utah Valley. I went there often, sometimes with friends, but more often by myself. Back in those days, it was not very crowded. It was a beautiful place to think and ponder. I would walk the trails, study the flora and fauna, and spend hours listening to the sound of rushing water. Almost seven million gallons of water pour through the spring each hour. The water comes from an underground reservoir and passes through cracks in the limestone structure under artesian pressure. It’s fresh and cool. Over the years I’ve seen bear, moose, and countless head of white tail mule deer drinking in the crystal clear water.

Lower Cascade Springs

When my kids were young, we went there often for family outings. I never tired of that beautiful location. My wife and kids grew to love it every bit as much as me. 15 years ago, in 2003 a terrible thing happened at Cascade Spring. A controlled Forest Service burn got out of control. On that day, an unexpected wind came up and carried embers beyond the control line. The fire burned right to the edge of the spring. In a matter of hours, this favorite spot was lost. My heart sank. I felt that I would never see the springs again in their glory for the rest of my life. I figured revegetation would eventually take place, but it would be far too slow for me to witness. Surly it would take more than my life to see the return of an aspen/maple/oak forest.

Lower Cascade Springs from the footbridge. The colored sky is the result of smoke from the Pole Creek Fire and the Bald Mountain Fire burning in south Utah County.

In 2005, my son was working to complete his BSA Eagle Scout rank. He chose as his project a revegetation of Cascade Springs. I was his Scout Master back then. We worked with the Forest Service to acquire the native plants. It takes a lot of seedlings to regrow meadows and woods. Most of what we planted was wild rose and other shrubs. It was a good project. I felt that we were working to restore a native habitat that could be enjoyed by another generation. I still believed I would never see the old springs again.

Two years after the fire, grasses and wildflowers have already begun to grow. This is my son’s BSA Eagle project. These are four of my kids working together.

Years have passed; quicker than I could ever imagine. I suppose a generation is roughly calculated at about 20 years. 15 years have come and gone, and after my return visit to Cascade Springs Saturday morning, I’m beginning to think I underestimated the power of Mother Nature. In 5 more years, there may just be a full forest again. When I think back to what the springs looked like in the 1970’s and 1980’s, the setting was more groomed and tame. What has grown so far is much wilder and probably more natural. The growth is lush, thick, and full, even despite the years of drought we’ve suffered. I’m guessing that the springs will be managed different in the 21st Century than it was in the 20th.

Cascade Springs in September 2018

The reason I chose to visit Cascade Springs Saturday morning is because currently the #1 and #2 wildfires in the nation are burning in Utah County, my home; the Pole Creek Fire and the Bald Mountain Fire. It’s been a bad year for wildfires. There has been terrible destruction in California resulting from the intense burns. There are fires in all the western states at this time. It’s sad to see so much destruction and loss. On the other hand, there is also renewal and regrowth. Nature is a powerful force, and a healing force. Visiting Cascade Springs reminds me that this fire season will also pass, the forest will heal, and the meadows will once again bloom in a beautiful flush of wildflowers. I’m sad for the loss of human life and property in California this summer. I hope the fires in Utah County will quickly be extinguished.

Upper Cascade Springs in 2018. The artesian water flows from the base of the tree line in the above photo.

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.