A High Sierra stream cascades past forest and meadows and over boulders after summer rainstorms.
This little “almost-intimate” landscape comes from closer to the midpoint of our August backcountry photography trip. The first few days features some challenging weather, including torrential rains on the first day. That rain flooded a lot of the area and raised this creek by several feet. On that first afternoon as we lay in our tents sheltering from the storm we started to hear a roar beneath the sound of rain and hail — it was the sound of this “little” creek growing to a dangerous torrent.
The tumultuous water was brown with suspended material washed down from the higher mountains, and for days the nearby lake’s water was coffee-colored. But before long the creek began to recede and its water cleared. By the time I made this photograph early one morning the water was low enough that I could safely ford the stream. I was about to do just that on my way to some timberline country when I paused and made this photograph of the creek, still in morning shadows.
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, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
A High Sierra waterfall, brought back to life by torrential rains surges over rocky ledges.
I love watching for, observing, and experiencing the typical seasonal transitions. For example, right about now I have my eyes on the first signs of the approach of autumn. In spring I watch water levels in creeks and streams. In winter I track the appearance of birds. However, I’m also fascinated when conditions are abnormal, when something unusual happens that conflicts with our seasonal expectations. The cascade in this photograph, and the “deluge” the caused it, fit into that latter category.
This has been a very dry period in California. Winter precipitation has been far below normal levels, and warmer temperatures have decreased the amount of water released from the snowpack during the warm months. Consequently, the high country has been stressed. Yet… on the first couple of days of our August high country visit we experienced the heaviest and most prolonged heavy summer rain that I have ever experienced in the backcountry. It was heavy enough that we really could not leave our tents for hours, and when we emerged the landscape was drenched and a nearby creek was coming out of its banks. Later on this trip we followed a branch of the stream up into the alpine zone, and along that route we passed this surprisingly powerful waterfall.
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, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
A passing family group on the street in Manhattan.
As scheduled, it is back to more street photography today. This photograph comes from our late-August visit to Manhattan, which provided us with opportunities to simply go out on walks and observe/absorb the Manhattan vibe. That is, of course, a complex thing, being composed of lots of people, lots of motion, the urban canyons, occasional bits of quiet and stillness, and a lot of things that happen quickly and are gone. The latter, of course, is part of the appeal of street photography.
I recommend urban and street photography to all photographers, including those of you who like think of yourselves and landscape or nature photographers. As a general thing, I think it is good for you and for your photography to step outside your primary genre and to be aware of good photographic work done with subjects quite different than your own. On a very practical level, shooting street forces you to see, think, and react really quickly. Quite often subjects coalesce and disappear in seconds or even fractions of seconds. You don’t have much time to carefully consider, so you work on the basis of instinct. And that is a useful skill to develop, even if you usually work at a more sedate pace. Street also reminds us of how we make photographs of things that we don’t have time to fully evaluate or understand. For example, while I call this photograph “A Family,” I can’t know that it is a family group. And while I might make be tempted to make other assumptions about this trio… I have no way at all of knowing whether I’m right or wrong. It is better, I think, to just ask questions.
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, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
Alpine stream, meadows, boulder fieldsEast of Peaks, End of Day— and one tiny photographer — beneath high peaks in shadow as the day ends.
Those of you who see my photography online may have noticed the “continued:” links accompanying my short social media posts. They take you to a bit more information about each image that I post with the original at my website. The story that I’ll share with this photograph is longer than usual, so you may want to click through and take a look! It goes into the background behind this trip, a bit about who participated, and a little surprise in the image that you would probably not otherwise notice. Tempted? Click that link!
This photograph comes from a weeklong trip into the Sierra backcountry with a group of fellow photographers and friends. Almost 15 years ago I was privileged to link up with another such group (informally known as the “First Light” group, after the title of their book) that did trips like this since 2001. There is an even longer history of similar trips going all the way back to Ansel Adams and the Sierra Club. The concept of such trips was to establish a basecamp at a suitable backcountry location for a week or more of exploration and photography. Because no effort was spared to use high end equipment, pack train support was used to bring camp gear in and out as the photographers carried additional gear in backpacks.
This year’s trip included a different set of photographers, though with links to the First Light crew. (Three of us had been on at least one of the previous trips and I’ve been on several.) In fact, we we loosely emulated the predecessor trips in many ways. (“First Light II?” “First Light, TNG?” “Second Light?”) We walked to our destination, packers brought in the bulk of our gear, we established a base camp, and we spent a week exploring and photographing all around our camp in a wide range of conditions. Perhaps best of all, we got to become a little community of backcountry photographers for the week — surviving the Great Torrential Rain of 2022 together, fixing and eating group meals, sharing stories and tips in the evenings and slow midday hours, heading out to photograph in constantly evolving sub-groups, and more.
The group included Michael Frye, Claudia Welsh, Franka Gabler, David Hoffman, Jerry Bosworth, Patricia Mitchell, and myself. Jerry was the initial inspiration for this trip when he responded to a post of mine about a particular Sierra feature and mentioning that it was perhaps a place that he might not get to again. My reply, which was basically “what about a pack train?,” and his enthusiastic response got the ball rolling… and a few months later we were in the Sierra again. It turned out to be an absolutely wonderful combination of personalities.
There’s a lot more I could (and eventually will) write about the group itself and our adventures, but I’ll use this photograph to share one little vignette. I’ve written about the horrible weather we had on the first couple of days of the trip. Finally, on this afternoon and evening, things cleared up and we all gradually headed up into the same area of the high country, following a stream swollen by the heavy rain. Eventually we emerged from forest and into the open alpine country, were we could see the peaks towering above to our west. I made this photograph just before I turned around — the light was starting to fade as the sun had long dropped below the peaks. If you look very closely, you might be able to spot a very tiny Michael Frye among the rocks and meadows.
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, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
Photographer and visual opportunist. Daily photos since 2005, plus articles, reviews, news, and ideas.
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