This time of year – late May into early June – is a special time in the forests along the Northwest Pacific Coast. During these few weeks you can find wild Pacific Rhododendrons (Rhododendron macrophyllum) bringing joy to the woods with their large pink flowers.
Although the Redwood parks in Northern California may be most famous for these flowers, affectionatly referred to as Rhodies, Washington’s Olympic National Forest puts on an impressive show, too. Last weekend I went out to the Peninsula to see our beautiful state flower on the east side of the Olympic mountains. There the sparse hemlock forest understory was filled with blooming Rhodies! Not long after I found this particularly photogenic “bouquet” the sun began playing hide and seek with the clouds, offering brief moments of subtle spotlighting, adding depth to the scene.
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Wild Rhododendrons : Prints Available
Wild Rhododendrons fill the hillsides with spectacular flowers when they burst into bloom in late May in Washington’s Olympic National Forest.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/22, 1/6th sec
Notes: I used a second exposure (1/20th sec) to control the highlights in the sky.
In Washington we might not have the giants of the Redwood parks, nor the mist and sunbursts that are commonplace there. However, the sheer number of flowers, and the shorter size of the plants, makes up for it. Fives years ago I had the chance to spend several days among the redwoods in Northern California, and almost always wished I was about 10 feet taller. For reasons beyond me, I never did process and share the following image from that trip, so I thought now was an appropriate time to publish it.
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Burst of Life : Prints Available
The sun breaks through layers of morning fog in California’s Del Norte Redwood State Park in early June, when the wild Pacific Rhododendrons bloom amidst the giant Redwood trees.
The Tech: Canon 5D, 17-40mm, 2-stop grad filter, tripod
Exposure: iso 200, f/16, 1/5th sec
For a telemark skier, I don’t know if there is a more perfect mountain than Mt St Helens, which offers an easy climb to a superb view and a 5,000 ft continuous run of fun 30° slopes as the ultimate reward. In the spring there is typically a window of a month or so in May or June when you can get good weather, low avalanche conditions, and great skiing. Permits can be hard to come by after May 15th, when they are capped at 100, so this past weekend provided the perfect opportunity to get out for some turns. Somehow I convinced three of my telemarking friends that getting up at midnight to climb the mountain so we would be at the top for sunrise was a good idea.
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Volcanoland : Prints Available
A sunrise view from the crater rim of Washington’s Mt St Helens, which blew its top in May of 1980. Down below is Spirit Lake, and in the distance Mt Rainier.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 6 sec
Me, on the crater rim of St Helens. Photo by my friend Tim.
Of course, I was photographically motivated, but it turned out to be a great decision independent of that. Climbing at night is a surreal and beautiful experience. All you can see is the 30 feet or so in front of you, illuminated by your headlamp, and if your lucky, some stars above your head. The summit is out of site, and thus, out of mind. Without the movement of the sun (or moon), there is also no obvious passage of time. Just one ski step in front of the other, and before long, you find yourself at the top! Psychologically, it’s a much more pleasant experience, so long as you can stay awake of course.
Waiting for the sunrise near the summit
Having reached the summit by 4am, we could have actually slept in an extra hour. To pass the time we dug a snow pit and took a brief nap. At sunrise, we were rewarded with the spectacular view of the neighboring volcanoes: Mt Rainier (1st picture), Mt Adams (our next ski adventure), Mt Hood, and far to the south, Mt Jefferson. Mt St Helens is most famous for explosively blowing its cap in May of 1980, which, unfortunately for us skiers, removed about 1300 ft from the summit, leaving a deep crater in its wake. My first picture shows the view from the summit rim, looking down into that crater, with a view of Spirit Lake and Mt Rainier in the distance.
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Crater Layers : Prints Available
Colorful layers of rock on the inside of Washington’s Mt St Helens’ crater, seen from the rim.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/11, 0.3 sec
After enjoying the view, we clipped into our skies and enjoyed a fantastic ride down the mountain, past the other 650 people that had gotten a later start than us. It turns out there is a Mother’s Day tradition of climbing/skiing St Helens while wearing a skirt.. next time we’ll come more prepared, but we were very glad to have timed our trip to be well before the crowds.
Tags: mount st helens, skiing
This past weekend it was warm in the Pacific Northwest for the first time in over 8 months, and seeing as I didn’t travel anywhere warm in that time, it was also the first time I could happily wear a T-shirt in so many months. I hardly remembered what 85° F felt like; what an incredible feeling! With all that warmth coming just a week after the last major snowstorm, I decided it would be a great time to see some waterfalls in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest engorged with the fresh snowmelt. And engorged they were. Raging in fact. Or, for the photographers in the audience, roaring as Peter Lik would say.
To experience the maximum intensity our northwest waterfalls have to offer, I bushwhacked my way to see Rush Creek Falls – a truly gargantuan waterfall unlike any other I’ve ever seen. The intense power in such an intimate and isolated arena of moss was an incredibly surreal and special combination. Within minutes of getting to the falls I was completely soaked from the spray. Taking a photograph was naturally rather challenging; it was like trying to photograph in a torrential downpour, with the camera pointed up. Between lots of lens wiping and some advanced processing methods I managed to pull something together that might just capture a small fraction of what it was like to stand there. To complete the sensory experience, just imagine roaring thunder and a face full of recently-melted-snow-water spray.
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Spring Rush : Prints Available
The raging spectacle of Rush Creek falls in Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24mm, tripod, clothes
Exposure (falls): iso 1600, f/11, 1/50th
Exposure (foreground): iso 1600, f/11, 1/13th
Notes: I used 7 exposures to reduce the spray drops. Note the high iso was necessary to freeze the water action, as well as to minimize the time the lens was exposed to the constant barrage of spray.
Immense power is, of course, only one characteristic of an inspiring waterfall. After a good soaking in the airborne Rush Creek, I was delighted to relax in the soothing grace of a calmer paradise.
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Liquid Lace : Prints Available
A complex network of delicate rivulets meander through a maze of mosses, in Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod, polarizer
Exposure: iso 200, f/5.6, 0.3 sec
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Paradise : Prints Available
Warm sunlight in waterfall paradise, in Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod, polarizer
Exposure: iso 100, f/11, 1.6 sec
In my experience, few things can match the beauty and refreshment of cascades sparkling in the sun. That combination brings the warmth of sunlight, the soothing sounds of rushing water, the mesmerizing twinkles of light, and of course the vibrant greenery that adorns such special places.
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Sun Showers : Prints Available
A beautiful waterfall sparkles in the warm sunlight on the first warm day of spring in Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24mm, tripod
Exposure (water): iso 1600, f/16, 1/20th
Exposure (foreground): iso 800, f/16, 1/10th
Notes: two exposures blended to for light and noise control.
Tags: greenery, spring, waterfalls
After a long and dark winter, it’s finally that glorious time of year when the spring wildflowers emerge from their slumber. Together with the sun, they begin in the east, greeting the world with open hearts and smiling faces. This weekend I went out to Wenatchee, on the east side of the cascade range, to enjoy their company.
Take a moment to imagine… it’s early dawn, the air is crisp, and there’s a light breeze carrying the fresh smell of sage. The meadowlarks are singing, encouraging the sun to peek its head over the distant horizon. Finally, the moment comes, and everything is bathed in warmth. The flowers stretch out their arms in joy. It’s a glorious day!
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Wenatchee Wildflowers : Prints Available
Spring blooms of wildflowers including Arrowleaf Balsamroot and Lupine on the eastern flanks of the cascade mountains near Wenatchee, Washington.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 200, f/22, 1/20th
Notes: 3 exposures blended for depth of field with Helicon Focus and touch up by hand.
Well, it was a glorious day in eastern Washington. On my way home through the mountains that afternoon it started pouring rain. That is the nature of this region. Perhaps it’s the many months of winter’s grey, blue, and white, but I find the spring greenery indescribably appealing. Many people look forward to the myriad of colors autumn brings, but to my eyes, spring is just as exciting. Photographing this delightful explosion of life in the forests is a significant challenge, but I think this scene I stumbled on in the rainy Mt Baker – Snoqualmie National Forest comes close.
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Fairyland Forest : Prints Available
Emerging spring leaves adorn the mossy trees in Washington’s Mt Baker – Snoqualmie National Forest.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, polarizer, tripod, umbrella
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 1 sec
Notes: 4 image panoramic stitch.
Hidden amongst the 50 million acres of arid ranch and potato land of Idaho are a few intriguing rocks, and last week my girlfriend Aubrey and I decided to go find them, and climb a few of them. When we told our friends that we were going to Idaho, most of them said something like, “oh, my brother-in-law lives there; he hates it!” Well, after spending 4 days wandering the backroads around interstate 84, we completely understand. Idaho is known as “the gem state,” because nearly every kind of gem has been found somewhere in Idaho. Indeed, rocks – and their geological origin – are just about the only thing of interest there, unless you are looking for sage-fed free-range cattle, or potatoes. Even the geological features of interest are rather scarce, though they are quite fascinating – gems in the own right. Unfortunately the ranchscape between these few gems was so uninspiring to me that I completely neglected to take any images of it, so I’m afraid that I might leave you thinking that Idaho is a spectacular photo-destination, almost on par with Utah and Arizona as far as photogenic rocky features goes. It’s not. Please bear this in mind if you decide to make a similar journey.
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Fairyland of Grotesque Rocks : Prints Available
Colorful lichens adorn the bizzare rhyolite formations in southern Idaho’s Bennett Hills.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 0.5 and 1/8th sec
Notes: 4 exposures bracketed for depth of field, blended with Helicon Focus, and a final exposure for dynamic range, exposed for the sky.
Our first destination was a patch of BLM land known as the Bennett Hills. David Alt describes it best in his book, Roadside Geology of Idaho, as a “fairyland of grotesque rocks”. Instead of the stately formations of brilliantly colored sandstone you can find on the Colorado Plateau, these crumbling “hoodoos” are relatively drab pillars of pinkish Rhyolite, covered in moldy looking black lichens with a few splashes of color. They look like abused and abandoned statues from the age of the dinosaurs, though they are quite a bit younger than that – they did not age very well! On the bright side, the only other visitors we met here were a father and son looking for a place to shoot rabbits (they kindly waved and left us in peace), and a beat up sedan filled with beer drinking farm workers out for a Sunday evening joy ride. No tourists! This was actually our favorite spot of the trip, and we returned for three out of our four nights; the final night being the most successful of our trip between our fire-roasted mojito-marinated chicken tenders and a quiet and lovely sunrise the following morning.
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Basalt Galaxy : Prints Available
Swirls of eroded basalt abstractly resemble a spiral galaxy.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 1/6th sec
Notes: 3 exposures blended for depth of field with Helicon Focus.
Many miles of arid ranch land from here, we found another fascinating patch of BLM land where thousands of years of erosion have carved a spectacular deep slot canyon (well, by ranchland standards) out of ancient layers of basalt. Where, you might wonder, did all this basalt come from in the first place? Well, the theory is that about 17 million years ago a meteorite hit the Earth somewhere in southeast Oregon – what we now think of as the Columbia Plateau – creating a “bruise” that extended deep inside the Earth. As the continental plates shifted above this “bruise” there was frequent volcanic activity that coated the Snake River Plain with layers of rhyolite and basalt. That “bruise” is now sitting under Yellowstone, and over the next many million years it will slowly eat away at Montana and beyond. Basalt often seems to erode into fantastical shapes (here are some from Owen’s Valley, CA: Fossil Falls), but never before had I seen such a deep and extensive network of chocolaty shapes! The reflected light brought some color into the otherwise gray, black, and brown tones – a far cry from the red sandstone of the Southwest, but the fascinating shapes and forms more than made up for the lack of brilliant colors.
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Pliocene Truffle : Prints Available
Bizzare sculptures of basalt formed through thousands of years of erosion can be found in the Snake River Valley in southern Idaho. This particular piece, inside a basalt slot canyon which was likely formed sometime in the Pliocene period about 2-3 million years ago, reminded me of partially melted and eaten chocolate, hence my title.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/11, 0.4 sec
Notes: 2 exposures blended by hand for depth of field.
Our third destination for the trip was the (Silent) City of Rocks National Preserve, where we hoped to do some rock climbing. Unfortunately an unseasonably cold front moved in, and when I crawled out of the truck at 6am to await the sunrise it was 12 degrees F. When I’m out skiing, 12 deg is cold, but actually close to perfect. It means that the snow will be dry, fluffy, and somewhat less likely to slide. But when you escaped Washington for the eastern desert sun and rocks, 12 degrees is very unpleasant. The pools of water in the ubiquitous potholes atop this granite lookout had frozen completely solid overnight.
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City of Rocks : Prints Available
An ice filled bath serves as the foreground for the spectacular view of the sculptured granite boulders strewn across landscape of Idaho’s Silent City of Rocks National Preserve.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 1/4th sec
This area was once an important landmark along the Oregon trail, where those headed for California began to veer south. Now it is a quiet destination only inhabited by happy campers and rock climbers. Since we had come all this way, we decided to climb the famous Bath Rock despite (and in spite of) the cold, but after our feet turned numb in the 35 deg temperatures, we decided it was time to begin our journey back home to Washington. It is always valuable to explore new environments, and although I don’t think we will be back (except to see the mountains and hot springs in the summer some day), we’ve learned a few valuable lessons (ie. that we like living in a place where shooting rabbits, rocks, and road signs is not the primary source of entertainment).
To any Idahoans reading this – please note that my jabs at the landscape and culture are intended to be read with a strong sarcastic tone. The geological gems we came across on our trip were certainly as unique and beautiful as any I’ve seen!
The silence and purity of an alpine glacial landscape in winter is unlike any other place I’ve ever seen. Ice and snow extend as far as the eye can see. Not a single living soul – animal, tree, or human – is visible for miles. Not even a trace. Being the only living thing for as far as the eye can see is an inexplicably invigorating feeling. Somehow it makes you feel even more alive, as if you have to make up for the lack of life around you. And yet the cold air, and your exhausted muscles work against you, trying to freeze your body in place just like the rest of the landscape. Unfortunately these are feelings most people will never experience. Hopefully these images are able to transport you to that place for just a brief moment of time, and maybe someday you will have the opportunity to stand there yourself.
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Winter Meditation : Prints Available
Aubrey amid the endless landscape of snow and ice of the Garibaldi Neve Glacier in British Columbia’s Garibaldi Provincial Park.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/13, 1/10th sec
For this experience, last week my girlfriend Aubrey and I spent 3 days ski touring in British Columbia’s Garibaldi Provincial Park. The initial plan was to ski the classic Garibaldi Neve traverse, however due to avalanche concerns and potentially inclement weather (which would lead to a whiteout on the glacier) we decided to just do the first half. After 11km of skinning up switchbacks through a steep forest we finally reached the frozen Garibaldi Lake, a seemingly endless (7km in reality) slog. But with spectacular views in every direction and soft powdery snow underfoot, the only real difficulty was that we’d brought a rather small bag of trail mix.
Aubrey skiing across Garibaldi Lake, with Guard Mountain in the background.
At last we reached our resting point for the day, the base of the Sentinel Glacier. From here we had spectacular views of the Black Tusk across Garibaldi Lake. The lingering afternoon clouds danced in the setting sunlight as we heated our homemade freeze-dried curry (from a year and a half ago). By 7pm we were fast asleep.
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Black Tusk : Prints Available
Soft evening light on the imposing Black Tusk above Garibaldi Lake in British Columbia’s Garibaldi Provincial Park.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/11, 1/50th sec
At 4am the alarm went off, and we worked up the courage to crawl out of our frosted tent and into the starry night. After a quick breakfast of warm cheesy grits (we forgot the bacon bits – needless to say, that was a huge disappointment), we set out in the darkness, guided by the half moon, a GPS, and my 500 lumen spotlight. Our goal was to get to the beginning of the Garibaldi Neve to watch the sunrise.
Aubrey skinning above Garibaldi Lake, an hour before sunrise.
After an hour and a half of climbing, we finally entered the realm of the alpine glaciers. Dawn was breaking, and soon a pink glow spread across the endless expanse of snow and ice. It was magical. And cold. I was too excited about the views to look at my thermometer, but down at camp it was 10° F, so up on the glacier it was probably close to 3° F (assuming approximately 5° F temperature change per 1,000 feet). While I was out exploring and taking photographs, Aubrey enjoyed the views from the warmth of her sleeping bag. Those first rays of sun were a most welcome warmth in the frozen landscape!
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Forever Frozen : Prints Available
First light on the Garibaldi Neve with endless views of the frozen winter mountains of British Columbia.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/13, 1/160th sec
Aubrey enjoying her sleeping bag view.
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Mount Garibaldi : Prints Available
Late morning light on Mount Garibaldi in British Columbia’s Garibaldi Provincial Park.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 1/30th sec
Satisfied, we began making our way back. The clouds were already beginning to roll in. Someday we’ll come back and finish the traverse when we don’t have to worry about avalanches and whiteouts. The cold snow made for some good skiing back to our camp, where we crawled back in the tent for a much needed nap!
Aubrey makes some turns on the way back to camp.
For our second night we moved camp to the other side of Garibaldi Lake, with a great view of Mount Price. Apparently in the summer time this place is crawling with tourists who come here to ooh and ahh at the turquoise waters and glaciated peaks. It’s hard to imagine how different it must look then compared to the snowy solitude we had.
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Winter Palace : Prints Available
My cozy winter tent, illuminated in the waning twilight hours on the shores of frozen Garibaldi Lake with a view of Mount Price in the background.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, tripod, headlamp
Exposure: iso 800, f/14, 30 sec
Aubrey illuminated the tent from the inside during the 30 second exposure.
Unfortunately we arrived back at the car to find the passenger window smashed in and a bag of clothes and Aubrey’s (insured) phone missing. Fortunately the thieves didn’t bother taking all of our cans of coconut water, though they did steal a half empty box of poptarts. Lesson learned: humans in the winter are just as bad as bears in the summer.
Tags: canada, garibaldi provincial park, skiing, snow camping, winter
Sometimes — feels like most of the time in the Pacific Northwest — the weather forecast is meaningless. You might head out with high hopes of skiing in the sun, above the clouds, but instead get stuck in an endless winter white out. That’s what happened to my girlfriend, Aubrey, and I this past weekend on our overnight adventure to Mt Seymour in British Columbia. When we arrived at the summit we couldn’t see more than 100 feet in front of us (the route to the summit is marked with wands and well travelled, so route finding was no problem). We figured (we hoped) it would clear at some point that afternoon, or maybe overnight. We set up our cozy tent and crawled inside. That afternoon my friend and fellow photographer Adam Gibbs showed up – we had planned to meet here to do some photography. Instead we just chatted for an hour in the mist.
The reason we had come to Mt Seymour was that the trees tend to get covered in more frost and snow than other areas I’ve seen. Indeed, there wasn’t a single part of any tree up here that was exposed. That frost is of course all thanks to the combination of the moisture from the mists and the cold temperatures. By morning there were already ice crystals a centimeter long growing off of our tent and skis! It was a surreal experience, to be surrounded by so much whiteness, with eerie ghosts emerging out of the mist wherever you looked. I took this image on our way out, in an attempt to capture the disorienting and spooky feeling of this authentic Pacific Northwest alpine experience.
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Mountain Ghosts : Prints Available
Frosted trees emerge like ghosts from the misty winter white out near the summit of Mount Seymour in British Columbia, Canada.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, handheld
Exposure: iso 200, f/16, 1/60th
Why is the forecasting so meaningless? Local climate scientist and blogger Cliff Mass has a nice write up explaining the problem: High Pressure Uncertainty. In short, high pressure systems that are usually associated with sunny skies often lead to inversions in the Pacific Northwest, which means temperature increases with altitude, rather than decreasing. This results in low lying clouds and fog, but if you are high enough you can enjoy warm sunny temperatures. Where exactly that layer of clouds is, however, nearly impossible to correctly predict. I’m sure if we had been 2,000 feet higher we would have had spectacular views. To make matters worse, these temperature inversions result in a positive feedback loop, so you can get stuck in these conditions for days on end. The take home message: bring a nice tent, plenty of warm layers, and some games to pass the time in case you get stuck in a cloud. It really wasn’t so bad, it’s just a shame we never actually got to see anything aside from the mountain ghosts.
Aubrey, cozy in the tent.
Me, playing bananagrams in the tent with Aubrey, photo by Aubrey. Yes a bag of bananagrams weighs about a pound, but when you're already carrying 50, might as well bring something fun to do!
Tags: canada, snow camping, winter
Seattle folks – I have a set of prints on display at Cafe Solstice in the UDistrict, through the end of February. They have some of the best coffee, cookies, and atmosphere that can be found in this fine city, so stop by between 6:30am and 10pm any day of the week! Contact me and I’ll try to find time to grab a cup of coffee with you! ~ ~ ~
Some people might think it’s crazy to wriggle your feet into ski boots, put on a 65 lb pack, clip into your skis and skin out into the mist shrouded snowy mountains simply to spend a 16 hour night in a tent with your favorite person, a few pounds of down, and some chocolate mints. Me? I wish I got to do that more often. Actually, skinning is the easy part. I still haven’t really figured out how to make a telemark turn on the way back down with all that weight on my back, though I did manage to stay on my feet the whole time this past trip.
Unfortunately between snow quality, good weather windows, avalanche dangers, and work schedules, those opportunities seem to be far and few between. That makes it all the more important to take a few images so I can relive those moments when I’m stuck at home and in the lab. So here’s one from a few weeks ago when my girlfriend, Aubrey, and I spent a night in our tent at Artist Point near Mt Baker.
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Winter's Blanket : Prints Available
Mt Baker in all it’s winter glory, seen from Artist Point.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 24-105mm, polarizer, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/14, 30 sec
Notes: 4 exposure panorama, blended with PTGui
Me, relaxing in the tent in the late morning. Photo by Aubrey.
Tags: mount baker, snow, winter
Up until 1967 the residents of Fort Bragg, CA, used to dump all their trash over the edge of the coastal cliffs into a small cove. Back then you would have found a smoldering pile of junk, including everything from coke bottles to entire cars. Fortunately they got smart enough to stop the uncontrolled dumping, and over the course of several decades the ocean transformed the horrific trash heap into something miraculous: a beach composed almost entirely of tiny polished pebbles of multi-colored sea glass. It is an inspiring success story of the forgiveness and self cleansing our Earth is capable of. Unfortunately, though, there are limits to this process, and I suspect we will one day find out what those limits really are.
Sea Jewels : Prints Available
Millions of pieces of polished sea glass cover the beach appropriately named ‘Glass Beach’ near Fort Bragg in California.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200mm, handheld
Exposure: iso 100, f/4, 1/1250th
Click image for larger view!
Treasure Beach : Prints Available
Glass Beach near Fort Bragg, CA, at sunset.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, Nikon 14-24mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 400, f/22, 1/25th
Notes: the iso 400 was a mistake. Three exposures blended manually for depth of field. An additional exposure for controlling dynamic range in the sky.
I generally don’t spend my time photographing old man made trash heaps, so the rest of my time on the coast I explored more natural treasures. Anyone who grew up in California (or other areas where kelp forests are plentiful) knows the joys of swinging giant kelp arms through the air. Well, in all my time on the beaches of the Pacific coast I had never seen as large a pile of fresh kelp as on this trip. It was like a gigantic bowl of pacific vermicelli, with natural sea salt flavorings, of course.
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Pacific Vermicelli : Prints Available
Endless piles of kelp on the beach, illuminated by the setting sun.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/14, 1/15th
Notes: 3 exposures blended for depth of field with Helicon Focus
There is something magical about the way that hazy coastal sunlight illuminates vegetation. Be it piles of kelp, lichens, or damp and mossy branches. There is a special quality of life that comes out of the playing light and shadows that I find incredibly appealing. Next time you see the sun glinting through the crisp and damp forest, take an extra moment to enjoy it.
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Glowing Beards : Prints Available
Misty sunlight illuminates a lichen covered tree in Van Damme State Park along the northern California coast.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 1/25th
Click image for larger view!
Crawling with Light : Prints Available
A backlit tree shimmers in the soft coastal light in Van Damme State Park, near Mendecino, California.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200mm, tripod
Exposure: iso 100, f/16, 1/20th
Tags: california coast, fort bragg, glass beach, mendecino
Happy new year everyone, I hope you had a fantastic 2012 and a wonderful time with friends and family over the holidays! Just think about how lucky you’ve been compared to this lonely crow I found sitting outside my apartment last week.
Winter Mourning : Prints Available
A lonely crow perches on the branches of a weeping birch tree.
The Tech: Canon 5D2, 70-200, handheld
Exposure: iso 400, f/8, 1/60th
