These trees grow along one of the most exposed coastal locations at Point Lobos State Reserve. Not far behind my camera position s the rugged end of a peninsula that juts out into the Pacific, exposed to waves and wind. In the other direction, beyond these trees, is a cliff that drops to a rocky, narrow bay that where surf constantly washes in and out.
Continue reading Monterey Cypress Forest, Leaning Trees
Our time on the Isle of Skye this past May combined visits to iconic locations. (I’m not against photographing icons that are new to me, or when conditions are extra special.) On this day we did a bit of both. Before we ended up here we had taken a long drive out to the tiny hamlet of Elgol. We returned, stopped for a quick dinner and then (the sun sets very late there in May) decided that Neist Point might be a reasonable objective.
Continue reading Neist Point Lighthouse
Death Valley National Park is a huge landscape, in more ways that one. The park is huge. It is the largest park in the contiguous states. (Alaska, where everything is on a larger scale, has four larger parks.) Within the park we often are able to view huge distances — in fact, Death Valley’s visual scale reminds me of places I’ve seen in Alaska. Here we look down Rainbow Canyon and across the entire Panamint Valley (one valley west of Death Valley itself) toward more desert mountains.
Continue reading Panamint Valley
I share this photograph as much for illustrative purposes as for its value as a photograph — it is, in part, a record of a remarkable light phenomenon that too many people never experience. Indeed, it can be difficult to rise hours before dawn, travel to a remote place in the darkness, and stand on a mountain ridge in the winter. But once you do it a few times and see what happens, you will likely be hooked.
We arrived at a high prominence in this desert mountain range in morning twilight. A band of intense red pre-dawn light glowed along the ridge of the mountains to our east, and the clouds began to pick up this color as we set up our camera gear. A moment later the first direct light from the rising sun struck these rocks, turning them blood red.
Leave a comment or question using the form. (Click the title to see the full article and to comment if you are viewing it on the home page.)
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” (Heyday Books) is available directly from him. Blog | Bluesky | Mastodon | Substack Notes | Flickr | Email
All media © Copyright G Dan Mitchell and others.