




Welcome to my photo travel blog. I am a landscape and night photographer who conducts photography workshops in some of America’s most exotic landscapes. I just completed a travel guide to the best landscape photography locations in Southern California, to be available in September 2015.
Fishermen try the Snake River at Schwabacher's Landing.
The view from Signal Mountain in Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming.
I arrived before dawn at the Oxbow Bend viewpoint in Grand Teton National Park. A number of cars were stopped to watch a moose browsing on the side of the road. I pulled over across from him but stayed in the car, as he was not far away. Then he decided that the bushes looked much better on my side fo the road, and he crossed right in front of my parked car! He proceeded to feed on the bushes next to my passenger side window. He looked up briefly as I rolled down the window, then continued on with his business.
This is the standard view from the vista point. Not bad, but compare this the following shot, taken from just down the slope!
Getting here requires climbing over the viewpoint retaining wall, and scrambling down a steep path to a small clearing in the trees about 50 feet below the viewpoint. Working a little harder to get just the right angle, you get much more of the river in.
The Mormon Row barns are another popular place for dawn shots at Grand Teton National Park.
I continued into the Upper Terraces loop road, stopping to hike down and explore the Lower Terrace trails as well. I checked overlook after overlook, walked a lot of boardwalks and climbed a lot of stairs. Most of the lower terrace pools were dry, and bison and elk had trampled many of the delicate travertine structures. I later learned that there had been a drought underway for many years, and that pictures I had seen were most likely from decades earlier when there was far more groundwater coming to the surface. Talk about false advertising! I wondered how many tens of thousands of visitors had driven hours to get to that basin, lured by the colorful post cards and the photo on the Park’s own map, only to be surprised at how few springs and thermal features were actually active there when they arrived.
I ventured briefly out of the park’s north entrance to the rustic town of Gardiner for lunch and to browse for gifts, then returned to the Mammoth Hot Springs Junction to continue my loop towards Tower-Roosevelt Junction and Canyon Village. Shortly after making the turn, slow traffic signals the presence of a herd of elk on the lawns of the church and nearby cabins of this former army post. I find good angles to catch the bull elk in front of the chapel, as if waiting for it to open, and a zoomed shot that compresses him with a camera-wielding tourist behind and a sign that reads “Do Not Approach Wildlife.”.
There’s one wildlife jam along the way that turns out to be for a cow moose and her calf, but the traffic jams get heavy over Dunraven pass. It turns out that in the fall bears climb the pine trees in search of pine nuts. Most of the bears are high in the trees and obscured by branches, but I find one bear in a smaller, isolated tree, knocking pine cones and entire branches to the ground so he can chew on the pine cones to get at the nuts. He’s only about 50 yards from the road, so it’s easy to set up the tripods and catch him on the ground when he lifts his head above the grass that surrounds the tree. The sun is already behind this ridge and at full zoom my 28-300mm lense opens to only f/5.6, and even boosting the camera's sensitivity to ISO 800 I’m left with a fairly slow 1/50th of a second shutter speed. I’m discovering how much of photography depends upon timing, and how much of timing depends upon luck. While expensive equipment isn’t required to take great pictures and certainly won’t guarantee them, when you come across a bear foraging in low light, it sure would be handy to have a lense with a couple of stops more aperture and light available.
This "wildlife jam" is caused by a herd of elk. Most people are marvelling at the herd of cows, and don`t even notice the massive bull lying down a few dozen yards away. One tourist does, and creeps forward with his camera to get a shot, testing the 25 yard limit that the park sets for wildlife encounters. There`s a longer minimum distance required for bears, for those of us who really need more common sense I suppose. The rest of us are watching this guy, who`s wearing a bright red "charge at me" jacket on, and we`re wondering just how good at judging 25 yards the 1000 pound bull elk might be. We`re also curious about how many more yards the guy would get before the elk caught up with him if he got annoyed by this tiny, bright red carnivore who appeared to be stalking him. Poorly. The tourist survived his unwittingly death-defying stunt, and I got back on the road with a few decent shots.
The geyser basins have boardwalks to enable people to get around across the hot, wet muddy soil, so it`s best to shoot in the early morning before you have tons of people in your shots and while you can use a tripod before the boadwalks start shuddering from the passing onlookers. I`m not quite early enough. Some of the geysers look more blue or green under a blue sky, but I don`t have that luxury either. I take quick laps of the boardwalks, snapping shots as I go.
As I scanned the horizon to the north, perhaps scanning for my first tree in over an hour, I could make out a small cloud of dust on a hillside on the horizon. It resembled a column of smoke froma fire... no, perhaps a truck or farm equipment disturbing the dry soil. Over time if grew in size, and I could see by it rotation that it was a "dust devil", a large one. It was growing in size, and another cloud of dust appeared nearby, so I accepted Death's exit and pulled off to watch. The dust in the main column was reaching skyward toward the thunderstorm above, now resembling a true tornado. I was happy not to be in Kansas, where I might actually have something to worry about.
The front edge of this system was about a mile north of the highway, but it was moving south, in my direction. The leading edge of the rain started to arrive. Things could get too interesting in a hurry. One of those funnels could pop into existence over my head. I did what I could with f-stops and shutter speeds in the dim light, until the wind started howling and debris and rain was flying horizontally past. I could go one more exit to the west and watch this mess from the comfort and safety of my vehicle. I stuffed the camera gear into the front seat just before the deluge hit. I crossed the overpass and accelerated down the ramp, wondering at what point a vehicle starts to develop lift. I left Death behind as fast as I could and pulled off at the next overpass, a mile ro two down the road. I had driven out from under the rain. The funnel clouds were no longer clearly visible in the wall of water now coming down, but there was a large mass of dust mixed in the air that still marked their passing. I had no problems staying awake for the next hour or two, and I had already kicked off my multi-week shooting spree in a very unique way. It seemed to bode well for the trip to come.
I went camping in Yosemite National Park over Labor Day weekend and swam in the plunge pools under several of the valley's waterfalls. One in particular stood out. There's little water left in this creek at this time of year, and I found a relatively secluded alcove near where the natural shower was falling. I had a flat rock in the sun, adjacent shade nearby for refuge as needed, and there was just enough water falling to cool off in the refreshing spray.