I’m no longer the young person I was when I began backpacking at the age of just about 16, nor even the person who was young and footloose and fancy free in the Sierra during college and in his twenties. During the past few years, I and others have noticed a decreasing number of young backpackers compared to what we saw back in our youth. In a recent discussion, the subject of “young people in the backcountry” came up — in the context of noticing that their numbers seem to be increasing again.
During the first part of September I was in the Sierra with a group of photographers “of a certain age,” among whom I may have been the youngest, when we were passed by a delightful young couple on the trail… and they brought back wonderful memories of my own travels when I was more like them in appearance and pace, and when everything in the mountains was new and fresh and unknown. That was a wonderful and magical time! Continue reading The Young and the Old in the Backcountry (Morning Musing 9/19/14)→
Hazy evening light slants across steep granite cliffs and slabs and trees
This was not quite the very last photograph I made on my recent 10-day Sierra sojourn, but it was close. Our exit from the backcountry was scheduled for the following morning, and camp busy-ness (and general end-of-trip laziness) would mean no morning photography the next day, so I went to nearby area of beautiful granite slabs and canyon views and went to work, photographing on into the evening light and eventually stopping only after the sun had set.
We often hear that the vast majority of visitors to Yosemite only visit The Valley, and that they regard that small but spectacular place as being the whole of the experience of the park… and that they are entirely wrong. In a sense I am grateful that most visitors do not crowd into the high country in the same way they do in The Valley, even though a part of me is disappointed that they miss so many other astonishing beauties. I cannot think of a juxtaposition of cliff and slabs and trees in the Valley that is more beautiful than this spot, especially in the evening when the last rays of the sun shine up this valley and illuminate cliff edges and the branches of trees.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
Today I’m going to muse about equipment, and how to respond to the ongoing and inevitable continuing improvements in the capabilities of photography gear. My primary context is the Canon DSLR gear that I use, though the issue that I’m “musing” about is a more general one.
I shoot mostly with a Canon 5D Mark II camera body, typically using four or fewer lenses. (I also use a Fujifilm X-trans camera for situations where small and light gear is more important than having a full frame sensor.) The 5DII is a 21MP full frame DSLR camera and can produce marvelous photographic results, including quite large high quality prints.
Recently Canon-using photographers have become acutely aware that full frame cameras from Sony (such as the A7r) and Nikon (the D800 and D810 models) incorporate important advances in digital sensor technology. These include greater photo site density (36MP sensors) and increased dynamic range (or “DR” in photospeak), and these cameras have gotten the attention of many serious photographers. (Today the issue came up in the context of a forum discussion of a vague and unsubstantiated rumor of a new Canon camera.)
Since photography relies on the technology of cameras and lenses, photographers are almost always interested in technological improvements. In fact, some folks can become so interested in this that the technology becomes more important to them than the photographs, and it be a challenge to keep things in perspective. Continue reading Switching. And Patience. (Morning Musings 9/18/14)→
Morning light on forests and granite terrain along the Tuolumne River on a day of rain and wildfire smoke
After about five days of beautiful late-summer conditions high in the northern Yosemite backcountry we descended to a lower elevation, partly in preparation for our departure a few days later and partly (OK, mostly) so that we could photograph in a different location for a few days. On the morning of our move to the new spot we saw a small bit of smoke in the far distance, over the shoulder of Clouds Rest, but it didn’t seem much different from the other small bits of smoke coming from the usual late-season managed fires. However, as we began our cross-country route down a steep canyon we saw that the smoke had grown and that the plume was now extending over our position. Not long after this, as we neared the bottom of the canyon, the smoke became very thick, blotting out the sun and dropping ash on us. We knew that the fire, no doubt whipped by winds that we experience in our location, had taken off — this was the start of the big “Meadow Fire” that burned in Little Yosemite Valley and which forced a number of back-country visitors to evacuate.
Fortunately, that night it rained — what perfect timing! The next morning we were up to make photographs, and for most of the day we shot between the periodic showers that swept through. Early in the morning I went to a high place to photograph this view down the canyon as light, somewhat obscured by clouds and lingering smoke, broke through gaps in the clouds to strike the forest along the river banks. But further down the canyon another shower was on its way, and before long I had to leave my position here and scramble back to my tent to wait out the next bout of rain.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
