Evening light on the mountains, coast, and incoming fog along the Big Sur coast
Yesterday I shared a Big Sur Coast photograph — looking north and in black and white. Today’s post is a counterpoint to that one — it looks south and is in color. Both were made late on the same day, and in the same general central area of this rugged coast. It was late in the day and I was looking for an ideal last photographic location of the day, and from this particular overlook I could see down the coast… and the light was going to go before I had time to find another spot!
In many ways I suppose the view is typical. The view extends into the distance where it disappears into fog and coastal haze, and the coastline is an alternating landscape of shallow bays and jutting peninsulas where mountain ridges drop into the ocean. Here and there are the remnants of ridges and bluffs that lost their battle with the ocean long ago, and which now remain only as isolated rock and sea stacks set off from the shoreline. One of the most impressive of them in this photograph is right below the camera position where a large rocky formation is cut through by a natural bridge.
UPDATE: As of 2020 I am no longer posting annual updates concerning this subject — and I am editing older posts on the subject in light of the need to be more responsible about not encouraging the onslaught. I also no longer recommend going to the Valley to see it. Unfortunately, too much exposure (yes, I played a part in it, unfortunately) has led to absurd crowds, traffic jams, littering, destruction of areas in the Valley where too many people go to see it… and the park has increasingly — and appropriately — cracked down. Parking options have been eliminated, at least one viewing location has been closed. Good news! The rest of Yosemite Valley is still there and often exceptionally beautiful at this time of year.
The silver strand of Horsetail Fall and water reflecting on surrounding cliffs in late afternoon light, Yosemite Valley, California.
Although it seems like it would be extremely difficult to make a truly original photograph of Horsetail Fall at this point, I won’t completely rule out the possibility, and recently I have seen a few interesting and imaginative photographs of the phenomenon.
The necessary conditions are fairly specific, and even when the basics are in place there is no guarantee that the show will occur on a given evening. To be honest, the odds are distinctly against you, and you are more likely to see something that doesn’t match your expectations.
There must be flowing water in the creek near the east end of the face of El Capitan that feeds the fall. This is not a sure thing in mid-winter. There must be sufficient snow above El Capitan and the temperatures must be warm enough to melt it, or there must have been a recent warm storm that brought some rain to higher elevations.
The setting sun must align just right with a gap in the mountains to the west of El Capitan so that the setting sun (miraculously) casts its last beams right on the face of El Capitan where the fall is located. Roughly speaking this occurs during the second half of February, right around February 20 or so.
You must be in a position such that the fall is back-lit by the sunset light beam. In addition, your position must provide a clear view of the fall – not necessarily a simple thing given the forest cover in the Valley. These areas are now subject to terrible crowding that has damaged areas of the park, and the park service is wisely reducing or eliminating access.
Although photographs make it seem like a huge, overpowering spectacle, it is actually very small. It takes place high on a distant cliff face, and to photograph it you’ll need a very long lens.
Finally, the skies to the west of Yosemite must be clear so that the golden hour sunset light is not blocked. Many tell stories of clouds that made it obvious that the show would not happen or, even more frustrating, developing light that was killed at the last minute when the sun dropped behind clouds to the west, which are quite common.
Any post about the February Horsetail Fall occurrence must include a few other important points:
The event has become so popular in recent years that the experience has been significantly compromised. You will not have an experience of relative solitude such as Galen Rowell likely had when he made the iconic photograph of the subject decades ago. Instead you will likely find yourself among hundreds or thousands (you read that right) of other photographers lined up with lenses pointed the same direction.
This, of course, implies that parking and finding “your spot” may both be challenges. As a result of traffic jams, illegal parking, overwhelming crowds, gross littering, and damage to meadow, forest, and river… the park service is wisely putting several access limits in place, even closing one of the favorite areas as of 2020.
If Horsetail isn’t an option, you are are still in one of the most beautiful and compelling places on the face of the planet for making photographs! Speaking of which, while the crowds are focused on Horsetail, you might consider photographing other things away from the crowds…
The annual Yosemite Renaissance art show typically opens at about this time each February and features the work of photographers and other artists working in Yosemite. The show is in the Yosemite Museum Gallery and the 2013 edition runs from February 22 through May 5, with the opening reception at 5:30-7:30 on February 22. (You can view my work in the show this year.) In addition, there is always something interesting to see at the nearby Ansel Adams Gallery – this year an exhibit of Michael Frye’s photographs opens on February 16.
NOTE: The 2017 edition of the exhibit, Yosemite Renaissance 32, opens with a free public reception at 5:30 PM on Friday, February 24. One of my photographs is in the exhibit again this year. See you there!
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.
Rocky Creek Bridge, Sunset - Sunset light illuminates the Rocky Creek Bridge, winter surf, a natural arch, and a rugged section of the Big Sur coastline.
Sunset light illuminates the Rocky Creek Bridge, winter surf, a natural arch, and a rugged section of the Big Sur coastline.
This is, for me, essentially the prototypical Big Sur coastline photograph. The Rocky Creek bridge spans, not surprisingly, the canyon holding Rocky Creek, located in a bay not far from the well-known Rocky Point south of Carmel, California along the coast highway. This little scene holds most of the elements that we identify with this area: the old coast highway bridge with its curving support structures, turbulent surf, headlands and bluffs, a small beach, steep cliffs dropping into the ocean, and sea stacks, rocky islands, and natural arches.
I have photographed almost this exact same scene many times, but with the variables of season, weather, light, and surf I keep coming back. I have several black and white photographs of the scene that are among my favorites, but I have been trying to get a color photograph for some time. It turns out to be a bit trickier than it might seem. I wanted sun, but not too much sun. In the wrong light, the colors in the scene can be difficult with a lot of neutral gray, brown and dark greens. In the morning the light comes from behind the bridge, in the midday hours the light (when it isn’t foggy!) can be overly harsh, and in the evening fog and offshore clouds can interrupt the light.
On this visit to the Monterey Peninsula area I had several opportunities to photograph this spot in mostly clear weather and near sunset when the light comes from the right side and takes on the warmer, saturated “golden hour” quality. I shot it on two evenings. On one the light went flat too quickly when the sun dropped behind clouds parked well off shore. The same thing almost happened on this evening and, in fact, shortly after I made this exposure the light went flat. But before that happened I got a few moments of this beautiful, warm, low angle light coming from the sun as it dropped toward the horizon and lit up the bridge and portions of the rocky terrain.
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
UPDATE: As of 2020 I am no longer posting annual updates concerning this subject — and I am editing older posts on the subject in light of the need to be more responsible about not encouraging the onslaught. I also no longer recommend going to the Valley to see it. Unfortunately, too much exposure (yes, I played a part in it, unfortunately) has led to absurd crowds, traffic jams, littering, destruction of areas in the Valley where too many people go to see it… and the park has increasingly — and appropriately — cracked down. Parking options have been eliminated, at least one viewing location has been closed. Good news! The rest of Yosemite Valley is still there and often exceptionally beautiful at this time of year.
As more and more people now seem to know, late February is the prime time for the appearance of the “natural fire fall” in Yosemite Valley, when the setting sun may strike Horsetail Fall near the east end of the face of El Capitan, and when viewed from the right angle create a striking light show. I do not plan to be there to photograph the event this year since I’ll likely be shooting somewhere else during the prime time for the fall… and I no longer encourage others to attempt it. I’ll explain below.
The spectacle of Horsetail Fall is now quite well known. The initial renown came after Galen Rowell produced a striking and now-famous photograph of it several decades ago. Eventually others began to photograph it as well. (I read somewhere that several other well-known photographers made images of Horsetail decades earlier, but apparently no one “discovered” the special annual sunset light until Rowell shot it.) Since that time, and especially in the past few years, news of the phenomenon and information about when, where, and how to shoot it has become widespread – especially now that information travels so fast on the Internet. As of this article revision, a plethora of articles (newspapers, magazines, the web) and social media posts have built the thing up beyond all reason, with predictable and unfortunate results.
Twice each year, the setting sun lines up just right so that it casts its final light directly on this waterfall for a few weeks. The phenomenon is ephemeral and dependent on a series of conditions that must all occur at the right time. First, it must be during that short window of time when the setting sun strikes the location of the fall on a high cliff. Second, the waterfall must be flowing. Typically this means that there has been a good amount of snow followed by a warm-up that melts enough of it to get the fall going, though a warm winter rain could accomplish the same thing. Third, the western horizon must be clear so that the sun’s light will not be obstructed as it sets. (Those who have tried to shoot the fall a few times may have experienced disappointment when a crescendo of light potential occurs late in the day… only to be suddenly switched off as the sun drops behind low clouds to the west. To be honest, this happens more often than not.)
The photographer wants where light hits the fall more or less from behind. The number of suitable locations is quite limited and — no surprise — they end up being hugely crowded.
Having said all of this, be aware that it is going to be extremely difficult to get a photograph of Horsetail that hasn’t already been done. I’ve seen a few, but most essentially duplicate existing images. In some ways, I think that contemplating the fact that such a thing actually happens in a place that already contains as many marvels as we see in the Valley may be more rewarding than making another photograph of it.
A downside to the experience is that the popularity of “bagging this shot” has taken off remarkably in the past few years. Yosemite Valley is obviously already a place where it is tempting to run from well known spot to well known spot trying to recreate the well known photographic images that others have produced there. (Ironically, those who take this approach often miss many, many less known subjects in the Valley that can be every bit as beautiful and rewarding.) With Horsetail, the rush of photographers is compressed into a very short time period and focused on a few (mostly only two!) very popular shooting locations. Those who shoot from them on prime evenings may arrive in the morning to reserve a spot… to find a crowd of photographers is already set up.
As of the date of this revision in 2020 the situation has become quite insane, and the park service has had to take serious steps to control the mess. Literally thousands of photographers and others have been arriving in places that used to handle a dozen or two folks. Traffic jams ensued, the experience has been significantly degraded, parking is a mess, and the crowds are damaging park features. As of this year large sections of park roads are now off-limits to parking and one of the two popular locations has been completely closed.
I strongly urge you to NOT go.
I was fortunate a few years ago to have a nearly solitary experience photographing the fall. That winter Northside Drive was closed and all traffic was routed in and out of the Valley along Southside Drive. It had snowed, and one of the locations for photographing the fall was only accessible by hiking across the Valley in snow to Northside Drive and then walking a bit further in the snow to the place from which I shot. I walked over early and spent an hour or more shooting alone in the silent and snow-covered El Capitan meadow! Then, as sunset approached, I walked quietly to a place where I could see the fall and joined a small handful of fellow photographers waiting for the event. We weren’t disappointed.
That is the way I want to remember photographing Horsetail Fall.
(Some of my Horsetail photographs are found here.)
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.
