A small rock-filled stream wanders along the bottom of a deep Utah red rock canyon
Yet another bend in yet another Utah canyon! We had hiked a good distance down into the depths of this canyon, finally stopping (most of us, anyway) at a scenic bend with lots of interesting photographic subjects. We held up there to make photographs, to sit and talk, and to eat. A few of us went a bit farther and some went a good distance more, but soon we had all checked our watches and realized it was time to start back..
This spot is just below a narrow section of the canyon where the water flows through a narrow cleft and around a big curve. Here, below that section, it seems like the flow must slow a bit, since a few more trees manage to grow here and the bed of the creek held a lot of river rocks and silt. In the distance the canyon curves more toward the west, and this allows a bit more light down into the canyon, producing a bit of a glow ahead.
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 flock of Ross’s geese flies in front of winter sun in cloud-filled sky
Occasionally, magic happens when out in a place like this, and it makes many days of less-magical photography seem more than worth it. And there was such magic at the end of this long day of winter photography in the San Joaquin Valley, beginning with a predawn arrival and hours of photography in mysterious tule fog, sometimes with birds heard by not seen. Friends were there with us, and as the day wore on more arrived. Sometimes we worked together and sometimes we headed off in different directions, but as the end of the day approached we began to see where the birds would be at sunset and then to pick our strategies for the final light.
Several of us ended up near a very large flock of Ross’s geese that was settling down in a pasture along a gravel road. The birds were gradually moving east, so we placed ourselves even further east so that rows of trees and the western sky would be in back of the birds. We settled in to photograph, occasionally moving a bit to accommodate the flock as it continued its drift to the east. For the most part things were quiet — geese came and went, with groups of them approaching from the west and landing near us. The sun was right behind the birds, which would normally make photography very challenging, but a cooperative cloud bank drifted across and blocked enough of the light to allow us to shoot straight into it as lines of birds came towards us to land.
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 face of El Capitan is reflected in the surface of an autumn leaf-filled pool along the Merced River
A book might be written about this photograph, but I promise to keep it shorter than that. The book could 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. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
Granite boulders line a small rock-filled meadow near the outlet of an unnamed sub-alpine High Sierra lake, Kings Canyon National Park
This is, to say the least, a complex photograph. I am well aware that it violates all of the “rules,” especially those that suggest that a photograph should have a clear central subject. While that is often fine advice – and I often try to use a single aspect of a larger subject to say something about the larger whole – I think that in some cases it may be fine to use a photograph to portray things that are not quite so simple, and subjects or scenes where the core nature of the thing is, in fact, its overwhelming complexity of detail and form.
This was clearly a very detailed scene, and it embodies an important aspect of the character of these high sierra areas that sit just below timberline in the sub-alpine zone. While there is an order to this environment, it is not a simple order and many components work together in complex ways. I made this photograph at the outlet stream of this nameless lake, located at the 11,000′ level a very short distance from our camp. On this morning the lake’s waters were very still, reflecting the rocky surrounding terrain. (The only simple thing in this scene is the bit of reflected sky at the lower right.) The bit of foreground meadow has taken on the late summer and early fall golden and brown tones, and its surface is interrupted by embedded rocks that become more numerous near the lake’s edge and in its outlet stream. The rest of the landscape is largely one of rock – massive chunks of rock such as the dome-like feature along the far shore and the rounded and rugged shapes of the slopes above, along with fractured and shattered talus slopes composed of rock that has fallen down from the peaks above. Aside from the meadow, the only plant life visible in this landscape consists of scattered trees growing among the rocks and small clusters of alpine willows.
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.
