A dense grove of thick and twisy aspens growing along Dunderberg Road in the eastern Sierra Nevada.
This just may be my final new aspen photograph from the 2010 season in the eastern Sierra. (Then again, I do go through all of my raw files during the final couple of weeks of the year, and who knows what might turn up!)
The photograph was made late in the day along the dirt track of Dunderberg Road in a grove of trees that I have visited in the past. Aspen trees can assume a seemingly infinite variety of forms, ranging from the groves of tall and slender trees growing in near perfect symmetry to stunted and twisted specimens that seem more like shrubs than trees. In this grove the trees seem to have endured some real stress – they have thick and strong trunks, but the trees are not tall and the trunks are gnarled and twisted in all sorts of crazy directions. Often when you see a trunk as thick as this one you would expect the tree to be quite tall… but not here.
This photograph is not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.
Trees and rocks emerge from fog flowing over curving ridges on the rim of Yosemite Valley during an autumn storm.
This may be the final photograph from the “fog shrouded cliffs” series that came from my late October visit to Yosemite Valley during a fall storm. Since I’ve described this series in some detail previously, I’ll try to keep this comment short. I initially had my eye on the pinnacle at the lower left, and it became a more prominent subject in other photographs in this series. But as I photographed it I was attracted to the angles formed by the foreground ridge rising from left to right and the upper ridge beyond rising the opposite direction. (I think it is the same ridge, with the two sections joined directly above the pinnacle.) The fog/clouds were in constant motion, at one moment almost completely obscuring the scene and a moment later revealing portions of the landscape. For a brief instant the pinnacle stood clear of the clouds and bot sections of the upper ridge were visible.
This photograph is not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.
Black and white photograph of two people standing on a bluff above the Pacific Ocean and overlooking a cove and beach near Davenport California.
Although I have continued posting photographs at a rate of one per day, I have only managed to get into the field to shoot a few times since early November. Yesterday I found time to make it over to the Pacific coast late in the day. I was looking for the foggy, misty, and somewhat gray conditions that are common this time of year, at least when the air has not been cleared by a passing storm. I wasn’t disappointed. While the sky was clear overhead, the air was very moist – my equipment became damp from condensation as I worked.
Since my time was a bit limited – the sun was going down! – I went more or less straight to this spot where I have photographed in the past. (At first I considered going a bit further north to shoot from high bluffs, but I realized that the shot I had in mind from that location would be better earlier in the day.) When I arrived the sun was just dropping below the horizon, but that is what I wanted – I wasn’t looking for one of those brilliant “sun dead ahead” shots. I wanted the post-sunset soft light and enough darkness that I could work with longer exposures.
I parked and walked the short distance to this spot at the head of this cove. The composition is sort of tricky. The “right” (in my view) arrangement of the offshore rock and the surrounding bluffs can only be seen from a very small area – too far right or left and elements start to collide. In addition I wanted that little bit of more distant shoal along the right side of the frame to suggest that the coast continues, and I wanted that flat bit of bluff with a bit of post sunset light at the left. It was a bonus when the two people – probably photographers! – showed up on the top of the left bluff and thoughtfully posed for me as I made long exposures!
This photograph is not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.
Morning clouds fill the sky above the Manifold at Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park.
I posted a monochrome version of this photograph yesterday, so there is perhaps a bit less to say about it in this post. To recap briefly, this is a photograph I made over three years ago during a spring visit to Death Valley NPS. This was a bit of a different morning for photographing at Zabriskie Point, if I recall correctly. Usually, photographing here is pretty straightforward – and once you’ve shot it a couple times in “normal” conditions, there is a basic pattern to the progression of light that becomes fairly (though perhaps not totally) clear. Normal conditions here basically mean perfectly clear skies with the sun coming up to the left from the perspective of this photograph or behind in some of the other familiar shots that include Manley Beacon – and light that sequentially illuminates subjects beginning with the highest peaks of the Panamint Range across the Valley and gradually working down into the Valley and finally to the rugged shapes at Zabriskie Point itself.
But clouds can change everything. If I am going to shoot at Zabriskie, I watch for conditions that will bring them. I will generally not stop there if it is “another beautiful clear sunrise” at Zabriskie. (If you haven’t been there before, you should stop and take in this stunning scene, but I’m often looking for something a bit different.) While the results in clear conditions are relatively predictable, they are not at all as predictable when there are clouds. You can end up with something very special… or with a drab, flat, and gray scene. But that’s the thing about special conditions – they wouldn’t be special if they were predictable and frequent!
Thinking back to this morning, my recollection is that it may have been one of those when I arrived to think, “Oh, boy, clouds!” – only to think a bit later, “I wish those clouds would move and give me some light!” I recall some bits of dawn light that were mostly blocked by the clouds. But the very clouds that blocked the hoped-for first dawn light thoughtfully assembled themselves into these impressive forms just a bit later, at right about the time that the warm side-light was getting down into the rugged folds of the Manifold and Gower Wash.
This photograph is not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.
