“Cliffs, Trees, and Morning Light” — Morning light highlights trees high on sandstone cliffs in Kolob Canyon
The Kolob Canyon area of Zion National Park is less visited than the areas near Springdale, Utah. It is a significant drive away, and the park service has (wisely?) left it relatively undeveloped — a very small visitor center, no restaurants, just a road into a very beautiful area with a lot of trailheads.
We visited this area on a fall morning when the light was just coming over the tops of the tall cliffs to the east and backlighting some beautiful atmospheric haze. Photographing these juxtaposed rock faces and buttresses with a long lens, not only was distance telescoped but the haze softened the scene even more than it otherwise might and muted the colors a bit. There is a lot of small detail in this scene, but most of it is suppressed, with the exception of the thin edges of light on the rock and the backlit trees.
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Morning light on shattered granite ridge reflected in a subalpine Lake
This is another older photograph, made on a late-season solo backpacking trip into the Yosemite backcountry back in 2010 for the purpose of making photographs. This time of year is my favorite in the High Sierra — beautiful weather, fewer visitors, no mosquitos, lovely light. In addition, and perhaps related to some of those other factors, this time of year seems slower and more relaxed.
I hiked in to this group of lakes on the first day, setting up camp late in the day. Over the course of several days I explored this lake carefully and also visited two higher lakes in this group, along with some surrounding high country. I’ve been to this place enough times now that I’ve begun to know its ins and outs, including alternate routes between places, the best times for particular sorts of light and so forth. I made this photograph in the early morning, while on a walk around the edge of the lake. The light was softened by some high clouds, and the surface of the lake was still mirror smooth.
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
Evening light comes to a remote alpine lake in the Sierra Nevada backcountry.
I made this photograph from more or less our campsite on a backpacking trip to this remote area of the upper Kern River drainage in the southern Sierra Nevada back in 2010. It was a trip that combined the familiar and the new, that took me to a spot that I had first thought of visiting decades before, and which provided some surprises. The first few days of the trip covered familiar ground over a couple of high passes and dropped us into the upper Kern on the John Muir Trail. At this point we left the JMT and followed less traveled routes for the remainder of our visit.
Our first departure from the JMT was to head south of northwest into the upper Kern’s more remote areas. We were not so far out on the fringe that there were no trails, but the trails were clearly not well used and we saw very few people. The area is not easy to get to nor is it really on the route between other major points, so those that go there pretty much just go there. Eventually we worked our way over towards the foot of the Great Western Divide, to an area full of intimate meadow/rock landscapes and small lakes. Here we found a beautiful campsite that gave no hints that it had been occupied before. I’m sure it had been, but it is unusual to find such a place in the Sierra that is visited so infrequently that there are not obvious signs of the previous visitors. We set up camp, engaged in warfare with marauding mosquitos, wandered about a bit, and settled in to watch the day come to an end.
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
Sunset light on a tree-covered peninsula as a steep talus slope falls into evening shadows
This photograph from the first evening of a week-long 2010 southern Sierra backpacking trip reminds me of many things, but at the moment I’m recalling a particular feeling that often comes on the first night on the trail, and which is one of these moments that marks the transition away from the other world to the magical world of the backcountry. Arriving at the start of a long backcountry trip requires a fair amount of planning that begins well before the trip. Often months before (those sometimes on the previous weekend!) a plan is hatched and a group of people assembled. Soon dates are set and an itinerary comes together. As the date approaches, we collect gear together and begin to pack and make the plans for our absence. The process accelerates as the day approaches and soon we are on our way to the mountains, often arriving at a trailhead came the night before, where the familiar sensations and rhythms begin to return.
The next morning we are up early, packing away the things we brought for that first campground night and paring down our possessions to only those things we’ll carry on the trail. We tear down camp, check and double-check gear, fill up water bottles, lock cars, head to the trailhead for the inevitable photo by the sign… and we are off. The first point of breaking away (once again!) is at this moment when we start up the trail, but in some ways this is often the beginning of a mental transition that will last all day as we again become accustomed to life on the trail. We climb, we stop to filter water, we eat our first of many trail lunches, the climb becomes harder as we watch for the pass up above. Eventually we reach that pass, where we stop and sit for a while, looking into the world where we’ll spend the next few days or week(s), then we head down the other side of the pass, an act that always seals the feeling of commitment to the trip. We arrive and set up our first trail camp, once again putting specialized equipment to use, remembering just how we set up that tent and operate that stove. Then, once all these tasks are complete, we find what we came for — there is nothing left to do. So we do nothing. We walk slowly around the lake, make some photographs, sit on a rock, and quietly watch the last light on a tree-filled peninsula beneath shadowed talus slopes.
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
