The incoming swell stretches toward that distant horizon beyond a few rocks on an Oregon beach
As we drove south along the Oregon coast in August we passed through Port Oxford. Just below this town the highway briefly curved landward before heading south again, traveling along the edge of a long and wide beach featuring impressive sea stacks and long strings of waves coming in off of the Pacific. I found a spot with a few dark, back-lit rocks to break up the uniformity of the horizontal lines of beach, surf, horizon, and sky, and shot straight toward the sun and its brilliant reflections on the surface of the ocean.
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
Ross’s Geese and Snow Geese settle in for the evening at California Central Valley wetlands
This is a sort of New Years post – the first 2014 photograph to share – but my “2013 Favorite Photographs” post is yet to come. Watch for it later today.
Last year a group of friends decided that we couldn’t imagine a better way to welcome the new year than to assemble along the edge of a San Joaquin Valley marsh before first light, listening to the raucous sound of thousands of geese and cranes, to watch the first dawn of the year through the inevitable Central Valley tule fog, and then to spend the day making photographs. This year several of us resolved to make this an annual tradition and, although not all who came last year could make it, we again assembled at the familiar spot early on New Years Day. (It was a double challenge for me, as I arrived in back California from New York City barely more than 5 hours before my alarm would go off for the drive to the valley. At least the time zone change was on my side, or so I tried to convince myself at 4:00 AM by repeating, “It is already 7:00 in New York!”)
I drove in to the refuge in earliest pre-dawn light and met my friends David and Charlotte, who had arrived a few minutes earlier and were photographing the fog drifting along the edge of the wetlands. We exchanged New Years greetings and listened to the wild sounds of geese and cranes coming from all directions, and then began the (pleasant) work of finding dawn photography locations. We photographed through the morning and then, perhaps because this was a New Years Day “photographers’ holiday” ended up spending an inordinate but very pleasant amount of time standing around talking as the midday light became less conducive to photography. I had decided that I would probably leave for home after the morning shoot, but I succumbed to the invitation to join Dave and Char for a quick lunch in a nearby town, and when we finished eating (and, yes, again, talking a lot ;-) it was late enough that I figured I would make one more pass through the wetlands. I wasn’t certain how the evening would play out photographically, since friends visiting the area the previous day had reported finding few geese and because high clouds seemed to be turning the sky a bit gray and murky. The first good omen was finding a very large group of geese in a pond close to an access road. I stopped here a bit more than a half hour before sunset to photograph the evening fly-in, selecting a location that would place any evening color opposite the geese. Before long the gray sky began to pick up some color and as the process continued more geese arrived. Then, a bit earlier than usual, one of the most impressive events of any evening in this valley occurred – the arrival of thousands of high-flying sandhill cranes, passing overhead and circling in the fading light. A few of them appear against the sky in this post-sunset photograph of the colorful sky, a flock of geese below a lone tree, and the reflecting surface of a flooded field. Soon there was no longer enough light to photograph, and I simply stood by the car and listened to the sound of the cranes and geese until it was time to go.
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
Giant shoreline sea stacks along the Oregon Pacific Ocean coastline.
As we traveled south along the Oregon coastline on the Oregon Coast Highway (US 101) we passed through various towns ranging from quite small to middle-sized. Eventually we came to Port Orford, which did not seem to us to be all the exceptional of a place – though apologies to Port Orfordians, who probably know the beauties of the place far better than some Californians quickly passing through! However, there was one interesting feature that immediately caught our attention. As the highway pass through the town it curves to the left to follow the coast. But at the point where the curve went left, a short section of road continued straight ahead to the top of a hill that appeared to overlook the coast, and a giant sign hand-painted on the roadway almost demanded that we leave 101 and see what was there.
Just over the top of this short side road was an open view of the coast to the south, curving inland right below the town to form a shallow bay. Slightly beyond this we could see a set of large sea stacks along the beach… but no picture in this particular light from our position. We continued on along the highway, curving through town and then back towards the south, and soon came to the spot where the sea stacks stood. Despite some tricky light, including wildfire haze and afternoon intense light, we paused to make a few photographs. First, a large group of pelicans surprised us by slowly flying by into the strong headwind and then landing almost directly in front of us at the waterline. Then I put a longer lens on the camera and went looking for an angle that would let me combine near and far towers with a bit of surf along the wild beach.
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
Returning to the San Francisco Bay Area from a week in the Seattle area back in August, we decided to take the long way back and turn a two-day trip into a four-day trip. After spending a day in Portland, we headed southwest to the Oregon Coast Highway (US 101) and followed that south into the northwest corner of California and then on home.
To my eye, the Oregon coast is in some ways familiar, having some similarities to parts of the northern and central California coastlines that I know quite well. But it seems generally a bit more remote – especially by comparison to the California coast near the San Francisco and Monterey areas – and the ocean seems a bit wilder. The towns are mostly further apart and smaller. Newport is one of the larger cities, presumably due to the large and protected port at Yaquina Bay. The coast highway crosses this bay on the striking Yaquina Bay Bridge, with its beautiful arch shapes.
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
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.
