Los Osos Oaks State Natural Reserve

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

Sunrise among the live oaks

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

California Live Oak Sunburst

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

The inner meadow, Los Osos Oaks State Natural Reserve

Santa Rosa Creek Road

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carrizo Plain National Monument

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve

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

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

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

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

Anza-Borrego State Park, California

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

Barrel Cactus and Desert Poppy

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

Bisnaga Barrel Cactus

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

Sand Verbena and Desert Sunflower

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

Phacelia, Cholla, and Desert Dandelion

Joshua Tree National Park, First Visit

With the purchase of the Scamp trailer, we are making plans to visit as many National Parks as possible to drive to. Not all parks are within that limitation (American Samoa, Hawaii, and a few in Alaska, etc.). With the desert wildflower bloom now on in its full majesty we planned a trip to Joshua Tree National Park in southern California. It wasn’t so much of a visit as a drive through. We left Ivins, UT and Gunlock Reservoir and drove down into the Mojave Desert. Our primary destination was Anza-Borrego State Park, but we detoured through Joshua Tree and spent the night there first. As a first taste, Joshua Tree is definitely a park we want to return to and explore. There are many great landscapes to see closer up. We only stopped for one brief hike within the park, the Mastodon Peak loop trail in the southern area of the park. It was a 2½ mile hike over hills covered in wildflowers. Sadly, we were there in midafternoon, and the conditions were less than ideal for photography. We knew the Cottonwood Canyon area was going to be a nice place to see the desert in bloom because I’ve been following field reports on the internet. Sure enough, after leaving Mastodon Peak, we continued towards the south entrance to the park at Cottonwood Canyon. The slope leading downhill towards I-10 was fully ablaze in a wild bloom of brilliant color. I spent the next two hours, until sunset, photographing among the ocotillos, barrel cactus, and vast stretches of poppy, lupin, chia, and many other flowers.

Joshua Tree National Park, California

Some years ago, I read an instructional post on the internet of a photography technique the author called meadow diving. This technique is practiced by placing the camera lens at the level of the flower heads, using a long lens and a shallow depth of field, and shooting through the flowers. This method is best practiced without the use of a tripod in order to allow for subtle movements of shooting past flowers in the foreground. Because the depth of field is shallow, flowers that are closer to the photographer blur to an undefined splash of color, sometimes in complimentary to the flower that is in focus. It was windy the afternoon I was there, and I knew the movement of the flower heads would be a problem, which was another reason I decided on a “meadow dive”. With a shallow depth of field, I could get my shutter speed up to 1000/sec, plenty of speed to freeze the motion caused by the constant breeze. I found that for all the images I made that afternoon, my keeper ratio was still quite low. I struggled with compositions. The movement of the flowers, the out of focus foreground, and finding a pleasing out of focus background were difficult tasks to manage. It was glorious nonetheless, to sit amid the flowering meadow with the intoxicating aroma of the flowers, and with the bees and butterflies buzzing and darting around me.

Lupin, Joshua Tree National Park, California

We camped that night on BLM land immediately outside the park boundary. We never intended to begin boondocking in our new trailer because we thought that most of our overnights would be within the national parks. But at this time of the year, Joshua Tree was full, and our only option was dispersed camping. We had a great time and a quiet and peaceful night’s rest. Next week I’ll share my images from Anza-Borrego. This week we leave for another trip to California. This next journey will take us to the bloom at Carrizo Plains National Monument.

Wild Chia, Joshua Tree National Park, California

California poppy, Joshua Tree National Park, California

Gunlock Falls, UT

We began our first California Desert adventure of the year last week with a stopover in Ivins, UT. My in-laws could not live in a more conveniently strategic spot than this small community on the outskirts of St. George. It’s a four-hour drive from our home to their front door although it takes a little longer when driving through a snowstorm (like we were) and pulling our Scamp travel trailer. I’m learning that I can’t drive the Scamp much over 60 mph on the interstate even though the posted speed is 80 mph. If I drive too fast, everything jostles around, and we have mayhem to clean up from our belongings being strewn all over. The trailer handles better at a slower speed. As we begin traveling more and more, a 4-6-hour drive is the maximum I want to spend on the road. So, our warm bed in Ivins was a welcome relief from the stress of driving in the snow.

When we arrived in Ivins, it was a pleasant 55°f and late in the afternoon. The first item on my photography bucket list for this trip was a visit to Gunlock Reservoir to see the spill over into the Santa Clara River. The reservoir dam was constructed in 1970 to provide irrigation water and flood control. There has been a heavy snowfall this year in the Pine Valley Mountains and much rain in the lower elevations. Because of this, the reservoir has filled to capacity. The spillway over the dam creates a spectacular waterfall into the Santa Clara River below. The reservoir only fills during wet years and the last time the Gunlock waterfall could be seen was 8 years ago, in 2011. I have seen many pictures from this occurrence posted on social media this year and I wanted an opportunity to get my take on the event.

I knew going into this shoot that I wanted to slow my shutter speed enough to create a silky-smooth flow to the water. I accordingly used a 6-stop neutral density filter that allowed me to shoot 1 to 2 second exposures. The sun was setting to the west and I had storm clouds in the area. On images that included sky, I added a 3-stop hard edge neutral density graduated filter as well. For the most part, I wasn’t happy with the images that had sky. I preferred the photos that isolated the water and the falls.

I’ve been working on processing these images over the past week. Although I always like color images, especially in red rock country, I found that these images took on a more dramatic impression when converted to black and white. I had to eliminate clutter from some of the images. These falls had a lot of debris come over the spillway, and the riverbed was quite cluttered. It wasn’t a difficult chore to clone out unwanted branches. Unfortunately, there were a lot of people to shoot around also. Those I couldn’t avoid, had to be cloned out as well. Next week I’ll continue this narrative with our stop at Joshua Tree National Park.

The Sunset I Almost Missed

We had a lot of storm activity last week in Utah. Winter is still attempting to hold its icy cold grip. For that reason, I didn’t go out on an adventure. Instead, I stayed home and worked on projects around the house. While I was in my backyard shed workshop, I needed a tool from the garage. Walking through the yard, I noticed a break in the clouds to the west. It was about 6:00pm and I thought, if the sun sinks into that gap, there could be quite a display of beautiful light. I tried to ignore the pending sunset and continue with my woodworking. Back and forth to the garage I went. As the sun set lower, the light began breaking through the clouds. It was a clean bright light, and it was gaining in rich warm color. When I looked at my watch again, it was 6:05 and I knew the sun would set at about 6:25 (this was before daylight savings time started). I calculated that if I grabbed my camera gear and ran for the car, I could be on a hill overlooking the City of Orem in 10 minutes. That would give me about 5 minutes to set up my tripod, mount my camera, attach a neutral density grad filter and quickly adjust my camera settings. I almost hesitated and didn’t do it. But the light kept getting better and better. It was a split-second decision, and I was running for the car. In my haste to set up the camera I grabbed a different filter than the one I intended. I normally use a soft edge ND grad filter because it has a softer (and safer) transition line between filtered/unfiltered. Instead, I put on a hard edge grad, which I almost never use, thinking it was best saved for a virtually flat horizon, like at the beach. Once I realized my mistake afterwards, I feared my photos would be ruined by a harsh transition line. I was surprisingly pleased with the outcome of the above image. Some of my best images come as the result of serendipity, stupid mistakes, thinking outside the box, or simply not thinking. The image above is the first of the series of images I made that evening. The light progressively diminished with each shutter click after that. I’m happy I made the decision to go, I’m happy I was rushed past the point of being analytical and made a filter choice I wouldn’t otherwise have made, and I’m happy to have witnessed such a spectacular sunset on a quiet Saturday evening in early March.

I’ll have more to share next week. We drove to southern California for a few days to see the wildflowers progressing. We spent one night in Joshua Tree National Park and one night in Anza-Borrego State Park. Yesterday we drove through the town of Lake Elsinore and saw the hillsides of poppies for mile after mile. I may break that trip up over several posts because I have lots of images to share and I would rather take the time write about each one individually.

Sleeping....... are Dead (figure that title out)

I designed two shows in the last two weeks, and that has kept me from getting out much. First, I lit the Sleeping Beauty Ballet along with two concert dances and then, just as they were finished, I began the final rehearsals for the Tom Stoppard play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Neither production proved to be very challenging. Because they were feathered on top of each other, I couldn’t give either one my complete attention. My heart longed to be outdoors instead of skulking in a darkened theatre. As I was finishing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, I spent a few thoughtful moments considering what my future design projects might be and how soon I needed to prepare for them. I don’t think I will have a full design project until fall. I’m soon to begin the final academic year of my career. That means I can probably count my remaining designs on one hand. I’ve designed the lighting for about 325 productions over the last 45 years. I know this because I’ve written a journal and I’ve tracked my design work. That averages out to over seven productions a year since I was 16-years old. Two of those years I was in missionary service for my church and I didn’t work in a theatre at all, and in my teenage years I didn’t work at full capacity obviously. So that actually pushes the average shows per year much higher during my years of employment.

The Sleeping Beauty Ballet, BYU Department of Dance

When we had a young family, I realized that most families I knew were surviving off two incomes. We made a choice early in our marriage that I would work to support the family, while Virginia stayed at home and was the primary nurturer for our six children. Since the realization that we needed a second income, and I was responsible for working, my only option was to find additional work. For the bulk of those child rearing years, I worked every freelance job I could get my hands on. It wasn’t always easy, and it certainly wasn’t convenient. I suppressed my desires and longings to be outdoors. I have no regrets for the choices we made. Keeping Virginia at home with the kids was absolutely right for us. Given the opportunity to do over again, I wouldn’t trade the chance to support the family for romping over mountains and through valleys. It was indeed a sacrifice, but I love my family more than anything, and I gave those years and long hours of work for them. Now, I find myself nearing the end of that stage of my life. I’ve banked and invested all these years, and I believe we’re close to reaching self-sustainability from here on out. The kids have all moved out, and while I’m still committed to seeing them through college, they are largely on their own. All are married and almost all are educated.

Walpurgisnacht Ballet, BYU Department of Dance

So, barring unforeseen medical conditions or other emergencies, it’s about time to catch up on lost opportunities to be out in the wild hiking, exploring, photographing, and enjoying the golden years with my lifelong sweetheart.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, BYU Department of Theatre and Media Arts

It’s been a good career. Working in the theatre has been a passion I’ve maintained throughout my life. I’ve enjoyed the creative process, discovering my emotions, and sharing in the artistic experience with those around me. Nothing has brought me more joy than seeing the light in another’s eyes after they witness an uplifting production I’ve worked on. The best of all has been seeing that joy in the eyes of those I love the dearest, my wife and children. The theatre has been a great outlet for me. Most of my life I’ve said, “I’ve got to go to work now”. But what I really meant was, “It’s time to go play again”. There is no justification for spending 10-12 hours a day at work when one is only paid for 8 hours. Many days I clocked 16+ hours a day. Where is the sanity in that? As I look back now, and review the rich experiences recorded in my journal, I know I was rewarded fairly for what I did. Creativity can’t be measured in an hourly rate, nor can one account for the return in growth that occurs from the spiritual aspects of working in the arts. What I’ve seen with my eyes, pales in comparison to what I’ve felt in my heart. That is the true blessing of one’s life work in the arts.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, BYU Department of Theatre and Media Arts

As for now, I have a challenging project that doesn’t involve my design talents that will take me through the next three months. Then I hope to spend a relaxing summer recovering before starting that final year of a working lighting designer.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, BYU Department of Theatre and Media Arts

Of Sandstone and Snow

Two weeks ago, southern Utah was swept with a series of great storms. A lot of snow fell over the area, covering the red rock region under a blanket of white. Ephemeral waterfalls emerged over the sandstone cliffs in Zion and Snow Canyon. Sadly, I couldn’t be there during the storms. The soonest I could get down to the parks was over the last weekend. I drove down early Saturday morning and came home Monday evening. I spent Saturday afternoon and into the evening in Snow Canyon State Park, near the home of my in-laws. The low angled winter sun had already warmed the region sufficiently to melt the majority of the snow. But still, the park was beautiful with a mix of sandstone dunes laced with an edging of snow and ice.

I hiked into one of my favorite areas of the park, known as the ledges. There are petrified sandstone dunes and narrow slot canyons. I didn’t go far, just enough to find a picturesque sandstone fin where I could sit and watch the sunset over the town of Ivins. I photographed from this one spot for over an hour and then made my way back to the car in the rapidly diminishing light. The light was easy enough to manage. I mostly used a 3-stop neutral density grad to hold back the sky. I used an additional 2-stop neutral density grad for a few of the images. I’ve been working at finding more compelling compositional structures lately. In particular, using an interesting foreground subject to lead the eye into the frame. I found an old gnarled tree stump with dried and withered branches that reached skyward toward the setting sun. For other images I attempted to use interesting cloud formations as leading lines.

Snow Canyon State Park, UT

Snow Canyon State Park, UT

Sunday afternoon, I drove to Zion National Park. My hope was in finding waterfalls pouring over the cliffs into the valley. The high country had up to 5’ of snow from the previous storms. I hoped that daytime temperatures were sufficient to cause enough runoff to collect into the drainage paths to form these ephemeral falls. Sadly, it wasn’t warm enough to cause much runoff and I didn’t find waterfalls in the valley. Since it was the weekend, the shuttle was running, and I wasn’t allowed to drive my car into the main part of the canyon. Instead, I drove over the Mt. Carmel Highway into the east side of the park.

On my way up the hill towards the tunnels, I stopped at the first hairpin turn along Pine Creek, where we used to take our kids swimming when they were little. I found this composition where the sunlit walls reflected in the shimmering water of the creek. I attempted to use sandstone boulders in the water to create an implied leading line into the image. The refracted light was beautiful.

Beyond the tunnels, I found a pullout next to a normally dry wash. By afternoon there was substantial runoff from the snowmelt above. I worked this area for about 1½ hours, attempting various compositions. What I thought would be my favorite images of the day ended up not working at all. I used a polarizer to remove the glare on the water surface, but because the water wasn’t deep, it ended up making the water disappear entirely from the image. These photos are a few that showed the water running over the sandstone surface. I used a 6-stop ND filter to slow the shutter speed enough to create a sense of motion in the water.

Granite Flat

Last week I snowshoed to Granite Flat, a favorite campground near our home. It’s hard to find an open site in the summer, but this time of year, I had the whole campground to myself, even on a Saturday. The campground lay quiet under an 8-foot blanket of snow. Just this last summer we held a family reunion there, and even though there wasn’t another sole around me, I could hear the echoes of my children and grandchildren laughing and playing. We’re anxious for the winter to pass and the opportunity to once again be on the open road, traveling with our trailer, and seeing the wide world before us. It isn’t just winter per se that ties us down. True, it is harder to camp in the winter, but it can be done and there are places to go where there isn’t snow. It’s more that my job is always busiest at this time of the year. It won’t be long however, before my employment ends and the nomad life begins in earnest.

Pillows of snow at at Granite Flat Campground

We have loose plans in the next month. Spring is when the wildflower bloom begins. Already, the southern California desert is showing signs of a good year ahead. We can’t make concrete plans to travel because the timing of the bloom is never exact, nor does it occur everywhere at once. We have to play by ear and be prepared to jump in the car at a moment’s notice. There are still some variables ahead that could affect the bloom. About three or four years ago a phenomenal bloom was forecast for the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve in California. And then blistering hot temperatures cooked the young seedlings. Within a week, the entire season was a bust and the bloom nearly non-existent.

Sunset, North Peak of Mt. Timpanogos

This posting will be brief this week. I don’t have a lot to say about Granite Flat. I’ve changed my approach to preparing my blog posts. I used to shoot, edit the photos, and write the post all in the same weekend. It was hard to find the time to be out on a Saturday shooting and edit the photos for my self-imposed deadline of Sunday evening when I send out the post. The last few weeks I’ve edited the photos during the week and write my essay on the next weekend. This gives me a lot more time to spend with the images with less pressure. This weekend I’m in southern Utah again. I spent this afternoon in Zion National Park. I’ll share those images with you next week.

A Sleeping Aspen Forest

I went for a snowshoe walk with my son last weekend. The snows have been heavy this year, but we were on a well packed mountain road through an aspen forest. It’s often hard to make sense of the chaos in a bare aspen grove. Without the leaves, aspens are wiry and scraggly. The trees grow so dense, that the branches interlace. It’s difficult to find an isolated specimen that reveals a beautiful silhouette against a snowy backdrop. The nature of an aspen forest doesn’t allow for single specimens to stand out alone. Aspens reproduce at the root level. Each new shoot is often a direct clone of the parent plant. Therefore, the trees grow in close proximity to one another, sprouting from these roots. Most of the pictures I’ve made this year are at the margins of a grove, maybe at the edge of a meadow or along the side of the road. Since I can’t isolate a single tree, I try to show the grove nature of this tree by including multiple trunks. I don’t normally attempt to include the entire tree. I’m drawn to the perimeter of the grove and show the line of where the grove meets or interfaces with the terrain. The irregular line across the image is the dominant interesting feature for me.

As I mentioned, the snows have been heavy. At times I’m discouraged by three months of a monochromatic landscape. As I walk along mountain roads or wander through groves and forests, I ponder upon the world 6-8 feet below my snowshoes, at the soil line below the snow. My true passion is photographing wildflowers. I wait all winter for the first plants of spring to break the surface of the forest soil and burst into bloom. For now, the flower seeds are peacefully sleeping below the snow for another few months. This period of hibernation is needed to insure a good bloom in the spring and summer. And so, I must patiently continue waiting. The wait only makes the anticipation all the more exciting and the reward more enjoyable. I’ve been watching storms move across California all week. The desert bloom forecast is looking good although there are still many variables yet to come into play. The deserts got a lot of rain this week but some of the wildflowers require moisture in the fall. I’m not sure if these rains will guarantee a good bloom. We had a super-bloom two years ago. Super-blooms are only supposed to occur once in a single decade. With weather patterns seemingly more and more irregular, it’s hard to predict what will happen. March is usually when the magic begins in earnest in the desert.

On the other hand, a heavy snowpack in the mountains bodes well for the high meadows. For the mountain flower meadows, it all depends on how it warms up in the spring and how fast the snowpack comes down. It’s a long game of wait and see.

Pine Hollow Trail

I went for a hike on the Pine Hollow Trail in American Fork Canyon on Saturday morning. Photographically it wasn’t a highly productive day. There was another big storm moving in from the Pacific. The skies were gray, and the lighting was mostly flat. The best part of the hike was the hike itself. It felt good to get out of the house and have some exercise. Since it hasn’t snowed for a week and this is a popular trail, I figured I wouldn’t need snowshoes, that the snow would be well packed. On the other hand, it was uphill, and the ice might have been a problem. Last month I bought a pair of micro spikes that slip over my hiking boot. With those and my leg gaiters, I thought I would do fine. The trail was indeed packed firm 18 inches to 2 feet wide. The problem was drifting off that packed surface and then immediately sinking up to my waist. I tried to stay centered in the trail, but the problem was with the fat tire bikes that came by occasionally. I’d have to step out of their way to let them pass and then I was swallowed by unpacked snowfall. I wasn’t liking the fat tire guys much after a while.

The micro spikes worked great. I felt like I was hiking on a regular trail. I didn’t slip until I started downhill. On the downhill stride I had to learn to plant my foot in a way that allowed the front teeth of the crampon to make contact with the snow, and then I didn’t slide. It took a while to learn that technique.

These images aren’t unique to my library. I’ve shot from this location many times, and in all four seasons. But, no two images are ever the same. Though the location may remain the same, the weather and time of day changes the setting in an infinite variety of ways. The mountain peak remained shrouded in cloud the entire morning, so I decided to make the aspens the focus of my attention. The light reflected off the snow and lit the undersides of the branches nearly as much as the top, so the aspens stand out as brightly lit specimens. The aspens work as a great complimentary element to the dark pines in the background.

We have stormy weather for a good part of the next week. It’s been warmer than usual lately with even rain in the valley. The uneven snowpack increases the risk for avalanches, so I’m not sure when I’ll be back into the mountains again. And so, that’s it for this week.

Mid-Winter Escape to Southern Utah

After a hectic holiday season, Virginia and I finally took a much needed long weekend break in Southern Utah. We left early Thursday morning on the tail-end of a small snowstorm and drove to Ivins, where we enjoyed temperatures approaching the 60’s. It was wonderful to escape the snow and cold for a few days, hike in the red rock country, and hang out with the in-laws. On the way south, we stopped at our favorite hot spring for a 3-hour soak before continuing on our way. I spent Friday exploring the east side washes in Zion National Park looking for ice formations. Many years ago, I photographed ice crystals in this area and after reviewing them several weeks ago, I decided I wanted to revisit them and take another series of images. I’ve improved my photographic skills over the years and thought this would be a good opportunity to make a recapture.

Here I was in the middle of a beautiful national park with towering sandstone cliffs all around me. Magnificent desert vistas filled my view in every direction, with hardly another soul around. Massive walls of rock streaked in desert varnish shaded the drainages in that area of the park allowing ice to linger in the dark narrow depths. With all that incredible scenery, my only interest was capturing intimate photographs of ice crystals at my feet.

In the last 10-12 years of my photographic pursuits, I’ve studied techniques and skills of capturing grand landscapes. When I look at my earlier work I notice I spent more time and attention on the details. I made beautiful compositions from a single leaf, an interesting stone, or a beautiful wildflower specimen. In the drive to master the landscape, I’ve purchased a bagful of camera gear, learned to compose images with sky and clouds, create balance and symmetry, framed photographs with trees and cliff walls. And in all those years I seem to have drifted away from the details that make up the whole of the landscape. I’ve thought about this a lot over the last six months and nurtured a desire to once again look at the intimate building blocks in nature.

I don’t think I’ll abandon the grand landscapes with beautiful sunrises and sunsets, but I’ll certainly give greater attention to individual elements that lay at my feet or within arm’s length along the trail.

A particular phenomenon that I noticed Friday morning was in the layers of ice within the washes. Last week heavy rains pounded southern Utah. These washes must have filled with the runoff. As the temperature dropped, ice formed on the surface. Then as the water receded, another layer of ice formed, and then the water level dropped again either by further runoff or seepage into the ground. What I found on my hike were great ice structures, delicate and beautiful in a tiered formation. It was difficult to capture the dimensional quality of the interlacing ice patterns.

Lastly, my son and his newly wedded wife, also traveled down to Ivins to visit. Because their wedding came about in a bit of a flurry three weeks ago, they didn’t get everything accomplished they wanted. Their reception is in another two weeks and they wanted bridal portraits taken in a warmer setting. Last evening, we drove into Snow Canyon and staged a series of photographs amid the red sandstone petrified dunes. It was a gorgeous setting to make these images. I used a single strobe with a shoot-through umbrella to light their faces. The backlight came by benefit of the natural bright sky at sunset. I underexposed the background by one stop and then balanced the skin tones with the fill flash. It was a simple setup in a stunning environment. It’s been a great weekend and a well-earned rest. And now it’s back to the grind at home and work. We’ll eagerly await the next adventure.

Winter in Utah Valley and the Wasatch Mountains

So, it’s been two months since I last posted in the blog. A lot has happened in these months. I spent a week in China, had some pressing projects at work, had a great time over the holidays with family, celebrated a wedding and a passing, and then the storms began pounding the state. I think I mentioned several posts back that I don’t photograph as much in winter. It’s my busiest time at work and I find it harder to access the mountains this time of the year. We’ve had a lot of storms pass through the state in the last two weeks. Luckily, they’ve come off the Pacific and not out of the Gulf of Alaska. That means they’ve been warmer than usual. Here in Utah Valley, we’ve had most of the precipitation fall as rain. The mountains have received a heavy load of snow, and the avalanche danger is high.

Even though I don’t shoot as much these days, I still watch my favorite YouTube photographers and dream of warmer weather. Lately I’ve been prepping photos for a local museum photo competition. I’ll be submitting my entries in two weeks. I’ll write about that later. I’ve been getting an itch to be outdoors more and more, and an even bigger itch to make photographs. Last week I wanted to find ice formations on a local stream so I hiked along the American Fork River and shot a few nice compositions.

Because we had so much rain and snow this past week, I decided it was time to pull out the snowshoes and head up into the mountains. Yesterday, I drove to the Aspen Grove Trailhead above Sundance Ski Resort on the Alpine Loop around Mt. Timpanogos. The trailhead is the end of the plowed road. With four feet of fresh snow on the road, I put on the snowshoes and began my walk. On the way, I passed a sheriff deputy who was there to warn visitors of the extremely high avalanche dangers that currently exist. There are several active avy chutes in that area. Not too many years ago, several snowboarders triggered a slide there and lost their lives. Hiking up the road however, is a safer route into the area. I didn’t feel a strong desire to get off the road since this was my first snowshoe of the year. The hike uphill kicked my butt. I went about two miles on a steady climb before turning around. I overheated the entire way. I wore my heavy coat instead of dressing in multiple thinner layers. I wasn’t able to regulate my heat except to stop and shoot, at which time I took off the backpack, peeled of my coat, and shot in my tee shirt until my temperature regulated and I started off again uphill. 

At my first stop on the climb, I was jostling my backpack around, lost my balance and fell over. Because the snow was so deep and unpacked, I couldn’t push against anything to get back up. My hiking poles were useless because they just sank in the snow down to four feet. Snowshoes can be a bit awkward to begin with, but add to that a heavy camera backpack and soft snow that offers no resistance, and it was a five-minute ordeal to get back onto my feet. Lesson learned, I was much more careful to keep my balance.

It didn’t take long before I was once again in love and at home in the mountains. It was incredibly beautiful. I only saw two other snowshoers on my trek and so most of the time I was alone. It was a much-needed time to absorb the goodness of the mountains and the fresh air. We have another storm due in tomorrow morning. Since it is a holiday, I hope to get the wife out with me on another snowshoe walk later in the day after the storm breaks.

Hard Drive Dive into Bryce Canyon National Park

I took the week off from photographic outings. I’ve hit it hard for a long string of weekends and I needed a break. My mind never slows down when it comes to photography. So, even though I didn’t journey out, I spent a fair amount of time working through the hard drive on old photos. I feel that my editing has improved over the years. I’m able to return to images that I captured years ago and bring new life to them. I can’t say that these images meet my original intent any better because honestly, I don’t remember what I was thinking when I captured them. But maybe that’s a good way to remain objective. I can see each image from a fresh perspective. I’ve deleted quite a few photographs because I recognize immediately that they are flawed beyond any ability I have to correct them. If I missed focus, there is no way to go back and restore that. And even if a new magical software tool comes along in the next few years, I doubt those images are so valuable they would be worth my time to correct. I don’t seem to run out of beautiful scenery to explore and capture and so I am constantly moving on to new vistas.

Bryce Canyon detail

These photographs are from a trip Virginia and I made to Bryce Canyon in 2014. Vacationing with me is not always fun because I rarely sleep in. If I can be out watching a sunrise, I’ll choose that over lying in bed any day. Bryce Canyon is a magical location, especially at sunrise. The warm glow of the sun strikes the hoodoos in the canyon and bounces around creating a rich warm glow on the surrounding cliffs. The first 30 minutes of sunrise are the most spectacular.

Bryce Canyon sunrise

I’m not sure I’ll be out next weekend. I’ve got some trips planned for the not too distant future. Winter is usually slower for me than the other seasons. I will get out. But I also might dig around in the hard drive for a few of my postings. I hope you enjoy it either way.

Bryce Canyon National Park in winter

5th Water Hot Springs, Diamond Fork Canyon

5thWater Creek is a tributary to the Diamond Fork River, just off Spanish Fork Canyon in Utah. The thermal springs along the creek supply heated water that mixes with the cooler water flowing from the upper reaches of the canyon. From the trailhead, it is about a 2.5-mile hike to the springs with a 700-foot elevation gain. While visiting the springs this weekend, I took the opportunity for an extended soak along with the photography experience. I tried one pool that was so blistering hot I almost scalded my feet. That pool was definitely too hot for me. Lower down the spring water mixes with the stream water and moderates the temperature considerably. There I found a temperature to my liking and I soaked for well over an hour.

This is the actual color of the water at 5th Water Hot Springs, Diamond Fork Canyon, Utah

The cobalt-like blue color of the water is true to what these photographs represent. There is a mild sulphur smell to the water, a second indicator to the mineral content. Over the years, visitors to the springs have built up stone walls to capture the water. Most of the pools are about knee deep.

The rising sun sends shafts of light through the rising steam at the hot springs.

It had rained the day before I visited the springs and so a thick mist wafted over the stream. At times the steam was so thick that it made it difficult to make photographs. The steam added to the mysterious atmosphere of the hike. It was early November when I made the hike, and by this time most of the leaves had fallen from the trees. Still, it was a beautiful autumn setting as the fallen leaves carpeted the forest. Altogether, the hike, the warm soak in the water, and the beautiful setting for shooting photographs made for an enjoyable morning in the mountains.

About a quarter of a mile downstream from the springs, the color has mostly faded.

Day Three of My Southern Utah Fall Excursion

 After the day I had shooting in the Narrows on Friday, I almost couldn’t bring myself to return to the park the next day. Over the last year I’ve watched videos by YouTube photographers who visit Zion in the fall and winter and successfully shoot beautiful images on the east side of the park. Though I’ve driven through that area many times over the years, I’ve never really identified places of unique beauty. The national park service doesn’t publish much material beyond simple descriptions of roadside pullouts like the viewpoint for Checkerboard Mesa.

Sandstone study, Zion National Park, Utah

On the way into the park that morning I stopped at the visitor center to ask for information on where I might explore to find nice fall compositions near the east entrance. I was a little surprised when the park ranger at the information desk declined to offer any information whatsoever regarding anything beyond the tunnels. His comment to me was, “If you explore in any region of the park off a designated trail, you do so at your own risk”. When I pressed further what I would find if I parked my car at an eastside pullout, and explored a wash adjacent to the road, he replied, “Sir, if you explore in any region of the park off a designated trail, you do so at your own risk”. I then asked my helpful ranger if he had a favorite spot he liked to visit in that part of the park. His reply was, “sigh!!!, if you explore in any region of the park…”. By this time, I was finally catching on. I’m sure he thought that he would eventually discourage me from making any attempt to leave my car and risk the dangers that lurk along the park service road between the tunnels and the east entrance to Zion. On the contrary, he fanned the flame of my curiosity and I was all the more convinced that I would find something breathtaking indeed.

Pine Creek Wash, Zion National Park, Utah

I’ve decided that Zion National Park has qualities similar to an onion. It reveals itself to one in layers upon layers. Two years ago, I discovered the magic of the main canyon by shunning the park shuttle and exploring the canyon on bicycle. Now, in an effort to avoid the crowded Narrows, I was forced into the east side of the park. I regret that it has taken me so long to venture into this area. In no less than three minutes of leaving my car, I was wandering in the dry wash of Clear Creek/Pine Creek. It was other-worldly. In the five hours of my exploration and photography, I only encountered a half dozen other hikers. Whereas the Narrows on the day before was overrun with tourists, the east side washes were a photographer’s playground. Every bend of the river offered up new compositions and new subjects to photograph.

Backlit Maples, Zion National Park, Utah

Late October is an ideal time to witness the brilliant colors of autumn. Maple trees in vibrant red, deep orange, and bright yellow lined the wash on both sides. The sun at this time of the year was already low in the sky. The air was crisp and the light sparkled off the many leaves. Because the wash twisted and wound along, the angle of the sun striking the trees constantly changed direction. The light striking the sandstone walls bounced and reflected its soft glow into the understory.

Maple leaves, Zion National Park, Utah

I know now that Zion Canyon has much yet to share with me. I must be patient and persistent in my explorations. A single day in the Pine Creek Wash was not a sufficient amount of time for me to determine that I had “seen” it all. I’ll return next year in late October for further studies and photography. I remember some 10-15 years ago, I wandered into the wash from a pullout in winter. I didn’t hike in the wash either upstream or down at that time. I was immediately stopped by the fabulous ice crystals in puddles lining the wash. I was so captivated by the ice that I never wandered 10 feet beyond that point. Now, I can hardly wait for winter to arrive and once again explore the wash for more ice formations. Zion is a wonderful place where I hope to never run out of things to see and do.

Pine Creek Wash, Zion National Park, Utah

Zion National Park, Utah

Day Two of My Southern Utah Fall Excursion

On Friday, my second day of visiting southern Utah, I decided to make my way to Zion National Park and hike into the Narrows. I’ve done this many times, and I hoped this would be a productive photographic experience. I brought my bicycle with me so that I could avoid the crowds at the visitor center and the mandatory tram. I learned two years ago that next to hiking, the best way to experience the main canyon of Zion National Park is from the seat of my bicycle. The park was full to overflowing and it was difficult finding a parking spot. I eventually pulled off to the side of the road east of the canyon junction just as the road began climbing upwards towards the tunnels and the eastern park entrance. I retrieved my bike from the car, attached my bike trailer loaded with camera backpack and other supplies, and pedaled up the canyon towards Zion Lodge. The crowds are thick around each shuttle stop with dozens and dozens of hikers heading out onto a trail or returning from a hike and boarding the shuttle for the next stop and the next adventure. On my bike, I breezed past these hubs and hives of tourists and enjoyed the solitude of the canyon on those stretches between shuttle stops. I rarely encountered another person as I made my way up the road, until I came to the next shuttle stop. I watched deer browsing along the roadside and enormous tom turkeys strutting among the oaks.

Zion Narrows, Zion National Park, Utah

I stopped for a quick lunch at the Zion Lodge and then continued my journey up canyon. I parked my bicycle at the Temple of Sinawava, shouldered my camera backpack and began hiking towards the Virgin River. The trail was crowded and it seemed there was a constant flow of traffic in both directions. I hoped that the numbers would diminish as I entered the river and wound a few turns upstream and leave the crush of humanity behind. Sadly, it was not the case. I found hundreds of fellow hikers in a continuous stream stretching the entire distance of my hike, past Orderville Canyon and through the heart of the Narrows. I only took a handful of photographs because I rarely found a piece of the river not overrun with hikers. It was discouraging to me.

3 Handley brothers hiking the Zion Narrows in 1977

My first trips to Zion were in 1976 and 1977. My father took my brothers and I there on our way to drop me off at college in northern Utah. In those days Zion was largely unknown. There was no shuttle, no congested parking, no tourist industry in Springdale, and virtually no one else wandering trails into the backcountry. This photograph was taken when I was 18 with my two older brothers. We had no special clothing. We hiked the Narrows in rolled up blue jeans and no special water socks or wet shoes. We waded upstream barefoot, and to my recollection, didn’t encounter another soul. These are special memories to me and I hope never to let them fade away. This type of experience is largely lost to today’s visitors. With no protection on our feet I doubt we traveled very far upriver. I really don’t remember. What I do remember was the absolute solitude, the roar and rush of the river echoing off the canyon walls, the sounds of the birds flying overhead, and the only other persons around were my brothers and my father. For an hour or two, we owned the Narrows.

Detail from Zion Narrows, Zion National Park, Utah

Kanarra Creek

I’ll try to write several posts this week since I shot far more this weekend than I can share in one upload. I spent the last four days in southern Utah and had several days of excellent shooting. The days have been warm, and with the lack of storms, fall has lingered on a bit longer. Driving south and dropping 1000 feet in elevation helped also. In the lower canyons, the cottonwoods, willows and box elders are vibrant yellow and the maple leaves are still hanging on in shades of brilliant orange and red.

Cascade between the upper and lower Kanarra Creek Falls

I pulled a permit for Kanarra Creek on Thursday. This is a 4-mile round trip hike through a non-technical slot canyon. There are two makeshift ladders, the second of which is not in functional repair. A sign at the trailhead states that hikers are not allowed past the second ladder. I suspect this is a liability issue for the town of Kanarraville and I don’t imagine it will be repaired any time soon. The first 1-1½ miles follows Kanarra Creek upstream with numerous crossings. I noticed I was careful not to get my feet wet, and hopped from rock to rock in an effort to stay dry. On the way back down, with wet feet, I sloshed and slogged along without a care. Wet feet are inevitable on this hike and the sooner one gets over staying dry, the easier one’s choices become at every stream crossing. There eventually comes a point where the trail ends at the water’s edge where the stream emerges through a slit in a sandstone cliff. Further upstream progress requires a commitment to enter the water and wade the remainder of the way. This is where I took off my backpack, sat on a rock, and put on my brand-new pair of NRS Boundary socks. These neoprene calf high socks kept my feet warm and dry for the next two hours of my upstream adventure.

Willows and Ash along Kanarra Creek

Midday lighting in slot canyons is perfect timing for photography. The direct sun striking the upper edges and exposed cliff faces reflects and bounces from side to side and penetrates deep down to the stream. The light is soft and warm and creates an illusion that the walls are glowing.

Upper Kanarra Falls with broken ladder

There are two main waterfalls on this hike and numerous cascades and pools in between. With fall at its peak in this area, there were new compositions at every turn of the stream. One of the best aspects of this hike was the lack of other people that so often descend upon the nearby national parks. There were less than a half dozen other groups of hikers the entire time I was in the slots. I never had problems shooting around people or worry that I was in someone else’s picture. The solitude allowed me time to think about my compositions, photograph deliberately, and best of all, soak in the incredible and overwhelming beauty of this extraordinary hike.

Inner passage between two waterfalls, Kanarra Creek, Utah

Box Elder leaves along Kanarra Creek, Utah

Reflected light in Kanarra Creek slot

Cascades along Kanarra Creek

Fall along Kanarra Creek, Utah