Autumn cottonwood and willow color at the McGee Creek pack station at the base of McGee Canyon
These eastern Sierra Nevada canyons have long fascinated me. My initial orientation to the range came from decades of approaching the mountains from the west, where they rise gradually, beginning almost imperceptibly with small irregularities and hills far out in the eastern portions of the Great Central Valley and then build slowly over many miles to eventually reach the Sierra crest. I “discovered” the east side of the range decades later, and was amazed by the contrast. Rather than beginning in the gentle west side grassland and agricultural areas, the base of the east side is frequently high desert, a spare and dry land of sage and open vistas. The Sierra begins abruptly, and in some cases you can stand at the actual base of the escarpment and look almost straight up to peaks that are many thousands of feet above you. The east side is cut by many short but deep canyons, where steep creeks drain a terrain originally cut by glaciers. In a very short distance — often traversed in a single day — one can move from high desert to the alpine zone.
In addition to focusing on that landscape, this photograph includes an element representing another component of life on the east side, a trailhead pack station. Here, too, my experience was such that I only recognized the role of these outfits more recently. For decades I was primarily oriented to the range as a backpacker and, to be honest, I regarded those using pack animals as representing an intrusion in the wilderness experience that I sought. (On the other hand, I recall many years ago seeing the occasional individual backpacker leading a single donkey along the trail, something you almost never see any more.) A few years ago I began to work with photographic colleagues who use pack trains once each year to get into the back country to photograph in ways that are more or less impossible when traveling on foot, and before long I had my first real experience with packers. I’m less certain of my old disdain for those who rely on pack animals, and I’m now much more aware of the long history of these pack outfits in the eastern Sierra. My perspective has changed. While I think that their place must evolve, I also have come to think of them as an intrinsic part of what makes the Sierra the Sierra, and I have acquired a real respect for the wranglers and the work they do.
A beaver pond floods a low area of McGee Creek below the peaks at the edge of Pioneer Basin.
Unlike some so-called beaver ponds in the Sierra, this one really does appear to be the home of beavers. If you look closely near the far bank of the pond, just left of center, you can see the distinctive peaked beaver den.
This spot was a bit of a landmark on the trail up McGee Canyon on my mid-September backpack trip to Steelhead Lake. Before this the trail mostly crossed relatively dry and open terrain, but starting at this point there was more forest cover, and the valley gradually began to become more rocky and narrower. There is just a bit of early fall color in this photograph. The plants around the pond have obviously gone brown, and some of the aspens and other brush ascending the slopes of the canyon are just barely beginning to change – what I sometimes call the “lime green” stage where it starts to become clear that the real color change is not far away. The distant tall ridge marks the boundary between the McGee Creek drainage and Pioneer Basin. I’m not positive, but I think that the two high points on the ridge might be Mounts Stanford and Crocker, part of a group of four peaks ringing Pioneer Basin that are named after the four “railroad barons, the other two being Huntington and Hopkins.
Unlike most of my mountain photographs, this was essentially a handheld “snap” – though made with a good camera and lens. When I’m hiking I carry my camera and two lenses in a chest strap mounted front carrier so that I can make some photographs while on the move without having to remove my pack. This sort of shot, made at a time of less than optimum light, is an example of the sort of thing that I’ll occasionally shoot that way.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer 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
Morning light spills over a high ridge to back light trees near Steelhead Lake.
This photograph was made from a point perhaps ten feet (or less!) from my bivy sack. We were camped at out-of-the-way Steelhead Lake, up above McGee Canyon and off the main trail to McGee Lakes and McGee Pass. While I had looked up McGee Canyon from the trailhead before – almost every year while photographing aspens, in fact – this was the first time that I had backpacked up this route and had a chance to actually explore the area. We ended up staying at this lake for two nights, providing time to do a bit of exploration and to see certain subjects that I might have missed with a shorter visit.
I had seen and photographed (though in a different way) this little clump of lakeside trees the morning before, but after thinking about them a bit more I felt that I’d like to shoot them again the next morning. The light at this lake is a bit tricky in that there is a very high ridge to the south and east that blocks the light until quite late in the morning. No morning golden hour shots at this lake! The ridge holds two of the four “railroad baron” peaks that surround Pioneer Basin – Crocker and Stanford. (The other two are Hopkins and Huntington.) A few years ago I had investigated Pioneer Basin on a separate trip and had stood on top of this very ridge and looked down towards this year’s camp. In any case, I had an idea to shoot the trees against backlight, and almost as soon as the sun appeared above this ridge I went to work. I had to shoot essentially straight into the sun in order to get the glowing atmosphere in the canyon beyond the first ridge, and even with a long focal length I was barely able to keep my hand out of the frame as I shaded to front of the lens.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer 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
Early fall color comes to McGee Canyon in the eastern Sierra Nevada, California.
I’m going to use today’s post not only as the opportunity to share another daily photograph, but also to share some observations about the arrival of the fall aspen color season in the eastern Sierra Nevada range, where I spent a good part of the past week.
I made the photograph at the very end of a three-day backpack trip up into the McGee Creek drainage, where we settled in at a 10,000+” lake for a couple of nights to enjoy the late-season solitude. (Before starting the pack trip I had spent a couple of days in Tuolumne Meadows, and upcoming posts will concern that part of the trip.) McGee Canyon is an eastern Sierra “type” – a typical trailhead canyon that rises from the high desert, into forests, through increasing rugged and rocky country, and finally reaches the crest of the range at a pass. On this early afternoon we were fortunate to get a few clouds, moderating the intense sun and adding a bit of texture to the landscape. The photo was somewhat casual – still wearing my full pack, I shot hand-held.
About the onset of fall color… I have watched this transition carefully for a number of years. While I have learned a lot about how the process unfolds, I have also learned that many aspects of it defy precise prediction. Every September, those of us who chase eastern Sierra aspen color start to watch for signs that might provide clues about the nature of this season – the amount of snow during the previous winter, how late it remained before melting out, long-range weather forecasts, early color changes in many other plants that can show up even in late August, and more. But, truth be told, in the end every aspen season seems to hold surprises and defy out attempts to know in advance how it will play out. A season may start with early color up high, only to be interrupted by early storms. Or a season may start late and then move very quickly. Or poor early color in one part of the range may lower expectations… only to be followed by great low-elevation later on. Or there may be any number of other possible variations, too numerous to list.
All of this is my way of saying to take my observations with a suitable dose of salt. :-)
Several weeks ago I began to read the typical early September notes about “early color” here and there, especially in portions of the Rockies and some areas of the Southwest. I was intrigued, but not ready to believe it. I read and hear these reports of early color every season – and generally the correlation between what is written and what occurs in the actual event is weak.
This has been an odd summer season for me, for reasons I won’t go into here. As a result, I had not been to the Sierra since early July or so – a very large gap of time for me, since I rarely allow more that a couple of Sierra-free weeks to occur in the summer. I was not there at all during August – which is almost unheard of. I usually catch my first hint of oncoming autumn on one of those late-August visits. It is hard to put my finger on precisely what it is, but invariably (well, almost invariably, since it didn’t happen this year…) there will be a day when I sense “something” in the air that reminds me that summer will end very soon – whether it is a breeze, a quality of light, a change in the plants, I can never tell for sure. But I am sure when I experience it.
Soon there are more concrete signs. The golden-brown dried meadow areas start to expand, the wildflowers are harder to find, corn lily plants begin to turn golden-yellow, bilberry leaves turn dark red (and brilliant red when back-lit) and the leaves of willows near streams and lakes turn yellow. By mid-September all of this is typically underway, and at this point I start thinking about aspen color in earnest. Whether it is because we tend to go to different places to find our aspens or because we have experienced different seasonal variations, individuals will tell you to look for the aspen show to begin at somewhat varying times. I tend to look for real aspen color around the very beginning of October, and to expect a peak roughly a week into the month in the higher country. Except for watching for the odd tree with a branch full of yellow leaves, I don’t expect to seem much real color in September.
But… I just returned from a pack trip that was right in the middle of September… and I saw a significant amount of aspen color. As I drove over the Sierra crest on my way to the east side I was not expecting to see aspen color, and I did not see much. Despite the other sources of fall color, the aspens just east of Tioga Pass and down in Lee Vining Canyon were almost uniformly as green as I expected. When we arrived at our eastern Sierra trailhead, there were a few yellow leaves here and there, but nothing too out of the ordinary. However, a mile or two up the trail I was quite surprised to find large stands of aspens in which many trees were showing color – just a few leaves on some, but perhaps a quarter or a third of the tree in the most extreme cases. In my experience, this is unusually early – but at least a week and arguably perhaps a bit more. (Not all of the color in the photograph comes from aspens, by the way.)
What does this mean? I’m not sure. If I had a bit more time I would have investigated one or two other east-slope canyons to see what is going on elsewhere – it could be that this canyon is somehow out of sync with others. But I doubt it. All I’ll say is the following: Some aspen color is already beginning to appear in some areas of the eastern Sierra. While no one knows when the main show will arrive (or what it will look like), if I were making plans for a visit to the eastern Sierra to photograph aspen color, at this point I would lean toward going a little bit early rather than a little bit late. However, as always, realize that you cannot count on the timing or the quality of the display, and flexibility increases your odds of being there at a good moment.
More articles on Eastern Sierra aspen photography:
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer 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. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.
