New snow on ledges and trees at the base of the face of Half Dome
This photograph was made the morning after a Sierra winter storm had coated the high country of the Yosemite Sierra with a fresh coat of snow. The snow did not quite make it all the way down to the bottom of Yosemite Valley, but it covered most of the slopes, fissures, and trees of the walls and peaks around the Valley.
I don’t often photograph Half Dome—I can go days in the Valley without doing so at times—but I did photograph it a few times on this trip. At one point I photographed it wreathed in moving clouds and fog, barely visible. Here I photographed the famous face of the mountain, though I wanted to focus on the combination of new snow and small trees dwarfed by the giant and nearly smooth granite face, and to capture something of the cold, hard feeling of this winter view.
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
A few plants grow on fractured pink and blue canyon rock illuminated by light reflected from nearby cliffs
In my experience, the geology of Death Valley mostly features relatively subdued coloration. While this geology is laid bare by the lack of thick vegetation, the colors are mostly shades of gray, white, tan, with occasional blues and greens from mineral deposits. But you rarely will see here the intense colors of, say, the sandstone formations of the Southwest. (Sorry to disappoint anyone, but if you have seen some photographs featuring intensely colorful deposits in places like “Artist Palette,” you may be a bit disappointed to see the real thing!) This is not entirely bad news, as subtle colors can also be very beautiful, and even these colors can become intensified in the right light… and that does occur in Death Valley.
This photograph perhaps tells a story that is partially about the color of rock and a bit about the light, and is also about keeping my eyes open for the fleeting and sometimes surprising examples of color. I was in a place that is not known for brilliant colors, at least not in the walls of this narrow canyon. As I passed through a narrow and twisting section, two things happened, and even though I’ve been there before this was the first time that I noticed them at this point. First, the steep, almost seems cliff-like wall has fractured layers and slabs that remind me a bit of exfoliating granite that I know so well from the Sierra. These layers alternate pinkish rock (that this non-geologist thinks look like some sort of sandstone) with inner layers that have a blue cast. Second, at the right time of day when the light strikes the upper walls of the narrow canyon, the light reflects down into its depths and warms the color of the light, emphasizing these subtle colors to produce what is, at least for Death Valley, some rather striking coloration.
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
The immense granite face of Cathedral Rocks looms behind trees of El Capitan Meadow in autumn afternoon light
This meadow, located between two of the largest cliffs in Yosemite Valley, is both an obvious place to make photographs – everyone does it – and a place of nearly infinite variations of light, season, and atmosphere. Sometimes when I’m in the Valley I may stop here two or three times during the day. As is the case in other spots in Yosemite Valley, the place changes radically depending upon what the light is doing – soft early morning or evening light, strong light coming down the Valley in the early morning, light blocked by cliffs at midday, strong backlight in the late afternoon. And many of these changes happen very rapidly. As I made this photograph I could virtually watch the shadow move over the trees from the right.
The granite face rising beyond this meadow – one of the two I mentioned above – has always attracted me for some reason. Although not as high as the much more famous El Capitan, in some ways it seems to me to look more forbidding. It seems to lack the obvious crack systems seen on El Capitan, and unlike the larger wall, which is often bathed in sun, this one is often in shadow. In winter it casts a shadow across this portion of the Valley in the middle of the day, though a low spot may allow a beam of light to sweep across this area in the late afternoon.
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
“Autumn Leaves, Reflection of a Monolith” — The face of El Capitan is reflected in the surface of a autumn leaf-filled pool along the Merced River
A book could be written about this photograph, but I promise to keep it shorter than that. The book would include chapters on the role of luck in photography, the importance of patience, knowing places well, looking at things other than the most obvious, not forgetting to look at the obvious as well, the pleasure of finding like-minded friends in such places, the importance of wandering around slowly, and more.
Every autumn, right around the end of October, I like to go to Yosemite Valley to photograph fall subjects. This mostly means the fall colors of cottonwoods, black oaks, big leaf maples, and dogwood trees – though it also includes the beautiful brown, rust, golden, and tan colors of autumn meadows. It also includes the magical fall light of the Sierra. I’ve never been able to quite put my finger on just what it is that makes this light so special, but I am certain that it is different. When the timing works out just right – as it did on this visit – the first snows of the season might have fallen, and there will be at least a dusting along the rim of the Valley. The Valley slows down in other ways at this time of year, too. The visitors to the Valley are different. There are fewer in general, and especially there are fewer of those who might seem to be checking another goal off the list, and more who genuinely know and love the place. Only the committed – or the poor and RV owners – stay in campgrounds, so you can just show up and get a camp site. Interestingly, although there are far fewer people, I’m much more likely to run into folks I know, which seems to be one of the special pleasures of this recent visit.
As I photographed during this trip, I more or less followed the light and my intuition around the Valley. I might get an idea to go shoot some subject, and along the way I would find something else worth shooting… and many other things worth remembering for a later visit. One of the things on the mental list was a single isolated dogwood tree sitting back in a dark section of forest off to the side of the roadway. I passed it several times, each time thinking about coming back and photographing it, and I finally made it there late on my final day in the Valley. I parked – and no one else at all was around – picked up my gear and walked off into the woods. This light in the shadows along the base of the Valley cliffs changes very slowly, so there was no hurry to make a photograph before light went away and I just poked about slowly, looking at the tree from various angles and considering other subjects in the area. I made a few photographs, and just as I finished a car pulled up and I saw that it belonged to a couple of friends.
I wandered back over that way and after the requisite wise cracks and good-natured insults we realized that all three of us had the same idea to photograph on the other side of the road among trees along the river bank. So, still moving at a relaxed pace and talking as we walked, we headed off towards the river through trees and brush. Along the shoreline I came to a spot where a few leaves littered the surface of the water in a tiny, still cove along the edge of the river. This familiar granite monolith stands not far away, and I found that I could, if I put tripod feet in the water, get both the leaves and its reflection in the frame. I made a few photographs and then wandered off to photograph leaves and grass and some trees and more of the river. Eventually, the light began to fail, and I climbed a small hill and started back to my car through the trees. I happened to look up – yes, sometimes I forget to look up for a moment – and saw that the intense sunset light was striking the granite… and it occurred to me that I might just barely have time to get back to that spot where I had photographed earlier and put those leaves into the reflection of this transformed scene. Fortunately, I knew exactly what lens to use, what aperture to set, and where to locate the tripod, so I could move quickly and efficiently to make the photograph before shadow rose from the bottom of the cliff.
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.
