“Morning Clouds, Lake Manly” — Morning clouds drift over Lake Manly and the distant Panamint Mountains, Death Valley.
I made my annual visit to Death Valley this past week. While there I realized that it has been 25 years since my first encounter with the place, and that I have been photographing there every year for about two decades. In addition to the usual attractions, this trip focused on Lake Manly, the temporary resurrection of the prehistoric lake that once filled the valley. The lake reappeared after intense tropical storm rainfall last year and was augmented by more recent heavy rains.
Look past the obvious aridity of the place and the role water played in its creation becomes obvious. Roadways continuously rise and fall as they cross minor and major washes. The mountains are covered with the evidence of water erosion. The extensive playas and salt flats were created by pooling water. But the reappearance of Lake Manly really brings home the role of water in forming Death Valley’s geography.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
The first morning light strikes Manly Beacon at Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park.
Icon alert!
I had more or less promised myself that I would not photograph at Zabriskie Point on this trip – been there, done that – unless the conditions were really special. But I miscalculated my morning start on this day and discovered that I wasn’t going to make it to my intended destination in time. As I passed Zabriskie on my way to the “other place,” telling myself that I still had a half hour before I needed to be in place for the early light… I noticed that clouds above this area were already starting to pick up the pink color of dawn light. I hesitated for a moment – I really wanted to photograph that other subject – but quickly realized that it would make a lot more sense to the shoot the subject that was here in the light that was developing than to drive further and miss out entirely on the first light.
So I turned into that familiar parking lot with its familiar fleet of photographers’ cars and quickly loaded up my gear. I was a bit surprised that I saw so few people up above at the official overlook, but it was quite windy and I figured that perhaps they had just dropped down on the other side of the wall below this spot. In any case, I had a different spot in mind, one further to the right, so I headed over that way and quickly discovered that the wind was blowing almost too strongly to make photographs. I made a couple of shots from a small gap there and then headed up toward the overlook. At the top of the little trail from the parking lot I dropped onto the small use trail to the side of the wall and was again surprised to see almost no other photographers. I walked a few feet farther and discovered that the “usual crowd” was huddled in a small area in the lee of the wall, trying desperately to find protection from the wind.
These days, my main project when I stop at Zabriskie is to find and photograph small, isolated elements of the landscape with a long lens. For the most part – unless truly magical conditions are present, and they weren’t on this morning – I don’t really spend much time on the classic views of Gower Gulch, the Valley, and the Panamint Range. However, since I’m there and know the progression of the light fairly well at this point, I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to get a better image of one of these iconic subjects. So as the first light was about to hit the summit of Manly Beacon I turned my rig that direction and spent a couple of minutes photographing it as the line between shadow and morning light traveled down its face.
