My approach to photography has generally been pretty traditional. My photos are usually realistic, no frills or special effects except perhaps a little color saturation, which I’ve loved since the old-school film days when I used Velvia slide film and underexposed half a stop to get that rich kind of color.
Reflections on the McCarthy Road
But for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Patti asks us to share monochrome images with reflections or interesting shadows. I have a few monochrome images in my files, and found some that work well with this theme. But I’ve had a bit of fun re-imagining some of my polychrome images, too.
Seagull sunset at Beard’s Hollow, Cape Disappointment State Park
Here are a shadow (silhouette) and a reflection shot from Washington’s Long Beach Peninsula. They’re all about the birds.
Sanderling in black & white
You might have noticed that the seagull scenic wasn’t quite black & white, more of a blue. Monochrome means one color, not greyscale. Here are a couple of colorful monochrome images. Continuing on the bird theme…
a natural living sculptureChristmas morning, 2021Bandon Beach
I think the beach may be my favorite place to make monochrome images.
Secret Beach reflections
But there are so many nice reflections on the McCarthy Road, too.
One from the road, the McCarthy Road in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve.
Here are a couple of pond lily reflections from the McCarthy Road, one in infrared, one in standard greyscale, under different lighting, portraying very different moods.
Infrared in late afternoon lightStandard grey scale at midday
I transformed a pink dawn moonset at New Mexico’s Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge into a nighttime moonrise by going monochrome in this image.
B&W moonset on the Bosque looks like a moonrise.
As I look over my catalog, I see a lot of reflections and a lot of interesting silhouettes, but not that many interesting shadows. Shadows can accentuate texture and be quite dramatic in their own right, but I guess I don’t readily “see” their potential when out shooting. Too much of that polychrome mindset, instead of exploring the possibilities of monochrome. Something I’ll have to work on, now that I’m aware of it. But here is an image where strong shadows help to create an impression. In this phot of Jug Handle Arch near Moab, the shadows accentuate the texture and power of the rock as well as the harshness of the desert sun.
Jughandle Arch
My last image is a bit strange. I was exploring the ghost town of Goldfield, Nevada, which has an infamously haunted hotel. I peered into the window of the derelict building and spied an upright piano sitting amongst the rubble. I really wanted to capture a photo of the piano, but the glare from the midday sun and reflections from the brick wall obscured the view. The image I ended up with, though, looks uncannily like the piano is a reflection or even a mirage, oddly appropriate and haunting for a ghost town.
It’s a long way between towns in the desert, and sometimes the road seems endless and lonely. I love those far lonely drives, so I wouldn’t call it monotonous, but I do have to admit that there are big stretches where nothing especially stands out.
It seems that when there is a lack of natural landmarks, people feel compelled to fill in the blanks. Occasionally strange, off-the-wall objects spark up the view in those empty miles. I decided to write about a few of them for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: Interesting Objects.Â
They’re listening. Is anybody out there?
Highway 60 in New Mexico is one of those highways. Towns are 20, 30, 40 miles apart. And when you do reach a town, don’t blink or you’ll miss it. But there are a few things out there that can shake you out of your highway trance.
One is the Very Large Array, a couple of miles east of Datil. It’s a radio telescope facility. Astronomers use radio waves to capture light in other spectrums and waves besides visible light, giving them a much more complete picture of what’s out there in the Universe than we could see if we just used visual information. The landscape is littered with humongous dish antennas, set out in a long, long line as far as you can see on either side of the highway.
Rural Outdoor Art
A little farther west I came upon this interesting collection of windmills. There were a couple of mannequins included in the display, I guess to give a sense of scale.
Catron County is popular with hunters. In the town of Quemado, I found a Christmas tree made out of deer antlers.
Merry Christmas?
When I drove through Arizona this year, it felt more like the Wild West than it ever had before. I’ve driven through the state many times, but never before have I seen so many signs and storefronts offering guns for sale. I live in Alaska, a state where most households own firearms, so I understand folks exercising their right to bear arms, but this year in Arizona it was over the top. It seemed a bit hysterical. I believe those folks are convinced Armageddon is coming. Or they want to help bring it on. In Wikieup, I guess maybe guns are not enough. They’ve got rockets!
Arizona likes its weapons.
One of the loneliest stretches of highway out there is California Highway 62, between Joshua Tree and the Arizona border. Suddenly, in the loneliest bleakest part of the road, you come to a few burnt-out foundations and crumbling walls surrounded by a broken-down barbwire fence. The fenceposts are decorated with sneakers, thousands of them. They’re mostly sneakers, but there are a few other shoes and gloves included in this bizarre display. Why did this site become the West’s athletic shoe graveyard? I have no idea.
Another rural art installation. This one is anonymous and interactive, kind of like graffitti.
These are only a few of the many strange and interesting objects to be found along those lonely desert highways. Maybe you have a favorite that I haven’t mentioned. Share it with us in the comments.
Thank you, Patti, for hosting this week’s photo challenge.
It got to -40 in McCarthy last week, and almost 20 below in Palmer. It’s been C-O-L-D in Alaska.
Thankfully, I’m not there. I decided to make like a bird and migrate. I’ve spent enough winters in cold places. For me, Warmth = Bliss. I’m following my bliss this winter.
TrustedHousesitters has been quite helpful to me when it comes to following my bliss. They hook up people looking for a petsitter with folks like me. I can check out what life is like in other beautiful places for a week or a month, and the homeowners can rest easy knowing that their home and pets will be well taken care of during their absence. It’s a wonderful trade, a real win-win situation.
Magdalena
I spent the end of October taking care of a sweet dog and kitty in Magdalena, New Mexico. Magdalena is the kind of town that brings those old Western movies to life. Established in 1885, it was a cowtown and railhead, the end of the line for cattle drives from as far away as Arizona.
The cattle drives are over, but Magdalena is proud of its rich history and happy to share it with visitors. This sleepy little town is chock full of art galleries and coffee shops. It’s a fun place to spend a Saturday afternoon, strolling along the sidewalks and checking out all the wonderful creations on display.
Not much left of Kelly
I love ghost towns. One way I follow my bliss is by exploring these glimpses of the past whenever I get the chance. Magdalena is surrounded by ghost towns and near-ghost towns. That old Western movie vibe you feel here? The ghost towns are a big part of that. You get a taste of the Old West as you walk their dusty streets.
Just a few miles from Magdalena is Kelly. It was once a thriving mining community, with a population of over 3,000 people. All that’s left now are foundations, a few walls, and a headframe at the mine. There is only one building left standing in town, the Catholic church.
…except the church
Another ghost town near Magdalena is Riley. Originally known as Santa Rita, the town changed its name to get a post office, since there was already another Santa Rita in the Territory. Riley was a farming community and died during the Dust Bowl in the 1930s when its water table dropped precipitously. The church is still standing here, too. New Mexico is like that.
Lack of water is what killed Riley.
Water is key in the New Mexico desert. I spent most of my time in Magdalena sitting on the porch enjoying the birdlife attracted by a tiny pool on the property.
While in New Mexico, I pursued another passion, following my bliss by birdwatching at Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. Due to the ongoing drought, things were a little different at the Bosque this fall. The shallow ponds that are usually the big draw for photographers who want those images of thousands of Snow Geese and Sandhill Cranes were dry. The Refuge was only flooding those fields that were planted with food for the birds. But there were still many incredible opportunities to observe and photograph dozens of different species. Sunrise at the Bosque is a magical, holy experience and I am thankful that I was able to visit this year.
A whirlwind of sparrows
I’m on another housesit now, a farm in southern Oregon. There’s a lot of birdlife here, too. I found it rather serendipitous that I am here for Thanksgiving, and a flock of 23 wild turkeys has been hanging out on the property off and on all week. Guess they know I have no intention of shooting them for Turkey Day!
Down on the Farm
Watching them though, I can totally understand why the Founding Fathers did not take Ben Franklin’s advice and make this bird our national symbol. Turkeys are really homely birds. Bald heads covered with red bumps, wrinkly and scrawny necks, not necessarily a good look for a national symbol!
This is NOT a sexy bird.
However, I’m enjoying the peace and serenity of country living this Thanksgiving. I’m thankful to be warm and counting my blessings. It’s a good life. That’s my advice for this Thanksgiving weekend – Count your blessings. And remember to follow your bliss – whenever you can and wherever it leads you!
Photography has been my passion for a very long time. I’ve been practicing the “Art of Seeing”for most of my adult life, ever since I first moved to the mountains when I was 23.
That first SLR was a Minolta SRT-201. I LOVED that camera, so much that I bought the exact same model when the first body wore out. That Minolta was my inseparable companion for 25 years. It documented countless adventures, seasons spent in the Colorado Rockies, the Colorado Plateau, the Sierras, Denali. Hawaii and New Zealand.
Above treeline in Colorado
Photography was my zen, my meditation, my passion. To be still, observe, practice the art of seeing. I don’t know who first came up with that term to describe photography. I think it was David Muench. But to me, the phrase defines perfectly the role photography has played in my life.
I’m auto-didactic. I tend to try to learn everything through the school of hard knocks, and photography was no different. I was an avid reader of Outdoor Photographer magazine. I studied the work of photographers I greatly admired – Eliott Porter,Galen Rowell, and David Muench to name a few. I did attend a couple of workshops through Colorado Mountain College. I read a few books. I even took a mail-order course, but dropped it halfway through as I had no desire to do studio work.
I captured countless adventures with my Minolta.
I wish I had the pix from my Minolta to share with you. A lifetime of beauty. Alas, I am in temporary winter quarters and all my analog work is either home in McCarthy or in my sister’s garage in Colorado. I did find a scant handful of poor-quality scans stored on an SD card that will have to do.
Here’s the disclaimer, though. The original slides are SO much sharper, cleaner and have way better color balance. I really wish I could show you what that old Minolta was capable of.
These scans do not do that old Minolta justice.
It was good stuff. Good enough that people urged me to sell my work. So I did, on a small scale. I was co-owner of an art co-op in Colorado, selling prints and notecards, for a couple of years.
When I started selling my work, I upgraded. Although the Minolta was still my main squeeze, I acquired a used Pentax 645 medium format camera.
I fell in love with photography in the mountains of Colorado.
The Pentax took beautiful pictures, but the film was expensive and the camera was heavy. I took it out for special occasions but not often. I wish I had some of those images to share with you, too, but I don’t.
The art co-op didn’t last, and when it went down the tubes, I decided to go back to Alaska and ended up in Kennecott. The tiny ghost town was so unknown then that I would tell Alaskans where I was working for the summer and even they said “Where’s that?”
Kennecott was unknown when I first got there.
There was only one postcard of the place, and it was a terrible shot. All the visitors asked, “When are you going to get some decent postcards?” I told them “Next year.”
I put my life savings, all $4000 of it , into the gamble. I started Wrangell Mountain Scenics, selling postcards, notecards and prints throughout the Copper River Valley, some taken with the Minolta, some with the 645.
I sold postcards and notecards of the Wrangell Mountains.
I eventually reached a plateau with my business. I needed to step it up a notch if I wanted to take it from a good part-time gig to a profession. And an essential part of stepping it up was to have internet access so I could run a business online. McCarthy was still way too remote for internet service at that time, and I was living there year-round then.
I wasn’t willing to give up McCarthy, so I back-burnered photography and concentrated on being a ranger. I put all my money into land and building a house. I had to make a conscious choice – try to take my photography to the next level and spend a couple of thousand dollars on a professional-grade digital camera, or build a house. I couldn’t afford both. I chose to spend the money on boards.
New camera or McCarthy? I chose McCarthy, the ghost town at the end of the rainbow.
I started working winters in Death Valley to earn money to build my house with. I had a fabulous new landscape to explore, and I desperately needed a digital camera. I couldn’t be satisfied with a plain old point-and-shoot given my background. I needed some control over what I was shooting, but I couldn’t afford a good DSLR, so I gravitated over to high-end point-and-shoots as a compromise.
Since I was no longer trying to sell my work, I was pretty happy with these top of the line point-and-shoots, apart from occasional frustrations. I’ve owned both Nikons and Panasonic Lumixs. I do love how light they are, after lugging a heavy fanny pack full of gear everywhere for half my life. Sometimes, though, you need better control and better lenses.
Death Valley gave me a whole new landscape to explore.
During the 2016 Death Valley superbloom event, I was the park’s main flower lady. I wrote blog posts for the park website and provided photos I took on my days off. The photos became public domain, but I got a credit line.
About a year later, my superbloom photos caught the eye of an interior designer. She wanted to feature some of my work in a redesign she was doing for a hotel in the park. She asked if I had other images like the one she had seen and saved. I sold her some images. I was concerned about quality, since they weren’t taken with a “real” camera, but we made them work and I started thinking about getting back into the photography game.
This photo got me serious about photography again.
I eventually purchased a Nikon D7100. I’ve had it for a couple of years now and still can’t use it right. Too many bells and whistles. I probably should have gotten something simpler, more like my old Minolta, but I decided to go big.
I’m taking tutorials right now, both in Lightroom and on my Nikon. There’s so much to learn. I definitely am feeling my age, and my lack of tech savvy. But I am absolutely loving learning more about digital processing, following the art of seeing with the art of painting with light.
I’m having fun painting with light.
I wish I had a coach, like Patti of P.A. Moed has, someone to look at my work with a sharp but kind critic’s eye and let me know what works and what doesn’t, and offer tips and tricks on how to improve. I have so much to learn! Sometimes I feel overwhelmed.
But it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. Through all the hills and valleys, I’m loving the journey. Where will the next fork in the road take me?
The Nikon lets me get closer and take sharper photos.
Thank you, Amy of The World is a Book, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photography Challenge – My Photography Journey.
This week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge is all about sharing some of our favorite images from 2020. I have a lot of favorites, so for this post, I’ll stick to photos I have not yet published in this blog.
Bird yoga
It’s been a rough year. I won’t deny it. 2020 was rife with difficulties, angst, despair, and uncertainty for me. It’s been surreal and dystopian for me, just as it has been for many others. But mixed in with all the challenges were many moments filled with beauty, gratitude, love, and appreciation. I even got some traveling in before things got crazy.
February was the calm before the storm. I landed a dream housesit, 6 weeks in Mendocino County, California, home of redwoods and fabulous wild beaches. I’ve been doing a lot of housesitting the last 3 winters, taking full advantage of my opportunities to explore all the wonders of the West. This one was the best housesit ever. I cherished every day.
Sunset on a wild Mendo beach
The homeowners came back a week early due to fears about Covid. I decided to stick with my original plan and camp out in the desert for the spring. I made an end run to the Sierras to avoid California’s urban areas, where the very first cases were being reported.
Stormy day in Yosemite
I thought I had a good plan – to stay isolated and healthy and still enjoy the flowers. Then they started to close all the public lands. I ended up in lockdown in Las Vegas. This was especially surreal for me, a woman who had scrupulously avoided urban areas her entire adult life.
Desert Sunrise
I was desperate for a touch of nature. The parks in town were too tame and too crowded. I found my wildland fix in some of the wastelands on the edge of town, the neglected and desperate dumping grounds in the desert where people abandon old tires, refrigerators, possibly bodies ( after all, this IS Vegas we’re talking about here). I tried to look past the graffiti-covered rocks and bags of garbage, cherishing the brilliant wildflowers growing there that thrived despite the abuse of the landscape. They were lifesavers for me, helping to ground me when I was overcome with despair.
Bear Poppies
The most important lifesaver, though, was friendship. This pandemic really helped me realize that I was loved and that people cared about me, at a time when I needed that support most.
I’m thankful for my friends.
I headed north again in mid-April. I wasn’t sure of my destination. Some of the public lands were opening up. At least I could get out of the city. I’d been warned that my summer job was canceled due to Covid and I was torn between going north to Alaska, where I had a home and a community but no prospects for employment, or staying south where there was at least some possibility of finding work.
Hanging out in the redwoods
I interviewed with Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park in northern California and spent a couple of weeks camping in northern California and southern Oregon, waiting to hear whether or not I’d landed the job. While waiting, I got a call from my boss in Alaska. There WAS a job for me! I could go home!
I love summer in Alaska!
Summer was subdued but a wonderful respite. One thing 2020 has certainly taught me has been to appreciate every day, every moment because tomorrow is not promised. I am incredibly grateful for all the good in my life. Words cannot express how grateful I am for my home, my friends, my family, my community, and the wonderful life I’ve been fortunate enough to live.
I really appreciate my home – and my view!
With fall I faced the uncertainty and angst again. Should I go south where I would be more likely to find work, or stay in Alaska, where I have a safety net of friends? I hate the cold and dark, but I felt travel was irresponsible and the political chain of events I could foresee that is playing out now tipped the scales. I decided to stay.
The future is still a little foggy…
It hasn’t been easy. I thought I’d landed a job, even filled out the hiring paperwork, then saw it canceled due to Covid. Lodging options I’d lined up fell through twice. SAD syndrome struck, and I’ve had my moments of doubt and despair.
This image is my visual impression of 2020 – wacked -out, scattered, lost and direction-less – but with many beautiful moments, too.
But once again, the love of my friends is pulling me through. I know I’m not alone and that many of us are struggling. I’m doing much better than I was a month ago and I feel hopeful about whatever the future will bring.
We’re in this together.
I think about the lessons that 2020 has taught me. Lessons about kindness and compassion. Lessons about appreciation and gratitude. Lessons about being present in the moment. 2020 has made me realize how much I love and cherish all the wonderful people in my life. I try not to take so much for granted these days.
Winter alpenglow on Matanuska Peak
There have been many moments of great beauty for me this past year, despite the craziness and uncertainty. All the same, I’m happy to see the end of 2020. I hope we all find better days ahead.
The Peak-to-Peak Highway is one of my favorite Colorado scenic byways. My recent sojourn down this beautiful road was an incredible trip down memory lane, scenic but also big on nostalgia.
The Peak-to-Peak is the closest access to Colorado’s alpine for folks living in the northwest Denver/Boulder metro area. Since that’s where I grew up, this road was once my favorite way into the high country.
You can sometimes catch this kind of action going on in downtown Estes Park.
The route starts (or ends) in Estes Park, the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park. I spent 2 summers there in my early twenties, the first mountain town I ever lived in.
In a landscape created by the rubble left behind by ancient glaciers, lumpy ridges and random boulders painted with lichens form the bones of the land. Stately Ponderosa pines and small groves of aspen adorn huge, park-like meadows, superb habitat for herds of elk. Tromping the trails whenever I had a chance, this country crept deep into my soul as I made the transformation from a city kid to a mountain woman.
Long’s Peak
Shortly after passing Lily Lake south of Estes, there’s a turnoff to reach the Long’s Peak trailhead. Long’s Peak is the northernmost fourteener (mountain over 14,000 ft.). in Colorado It was the first fourteener I ever climbed.
It’s a scramble, not a trail, to get to the top. The climb turned into an epic adventure when we were caught near the summit by a quick-moving thunderstorm. Torrents of hail felt like ball bearings under our feet as we charged down the slippery scree-covered slope. I watched a bolt of lightning break off a chunk of the mountain the size of a small house and send it crashing down on the slope below. Intense.
The Peak-to-Peak provides access to many other alpine adventures. Trails in the Wild Basin area near Allenspark travel along creeks filled with cascading waterfalls to pristine lakes. Climb higher, above the treeline, and immerse yourself in a tapestry of tiny tundra wildflowers.
Walk by waterfalls in Wild Basin
Indian Peaks Wilderness
The Indian Peaks Wilderness lies south of Rocky Mountain National Park, just a few miles west of the highway. I remember the challenges of my first week-long backpacking trip as I revisit Brainard Lake and gaze at the peaks and passes beyond.
When I hiked the Continental Divide one summer a few years later, the Indian Peaks Wilderness was one of my favorite sections. I recall how we spent the best day of the entire trip here, up near Fourth of July Mine and Mt. Neva.
Brainard Lake gateway to the Indian Peaks
The Towns
At the foot of the Indian Peaks, you’ll find a smattering of old mining camps, towns like Ward, Jamestown, and Eldora, ghost towns turned hippie havens. The friendliest and funkiest of them all is Nederland.
It’s definitely a hippie town. It’s the home of the Carousel of Happiness. Nederland was the third community to legalize pot in Colorado, just after Denver and Breckenridge. The locals call themselves Nedheads.
Carousel of Happiness
Nederland celebrates the eclectic and just plain weird. Case in point – the town hosts Frozen Dead Guys Days every March. This festival celebrates the attempt by a local resident to practice a little homemade crionics, stashing his grandfather in a storage shed with a bunch of dry ice, holding out for some future date when the miracles of science could bring him back to life. Some of the fun things to do in Nederland during the festival include coffin races, frozen t-shirt contests, and a polar plunge.
Just past Nederland is Rollinsville. This old railroad town once had a fun bar, the Stage Stop (now a restaurant under new owners). I loved dancing on the timeworn hardwood floor to name acts like Tab Benoit.
The Stage Stop used to host good bands.
Rollinsville also reminds me of my first backpacking disaster. I took my little sister and brother with me to teach them the joys of backpacking. Crossing a creek on an old log, I proceeded to teach them how to prevent hypothermia after the log snapped in two and dumped me in the creek. Then it started to snow. Eventually, the snow turned to rain and came down in torrents. It didn’t stop. In imminent danger of being stranded by flooding, we bailed and hiked out to Rollinsville to beg a ride home.
The Peak-to-Peak is one of the most popular roads in the state when the aspens turn gold. Signs on the highway warn leaf-lookers that they are not allowed to stop in the middle of the road when taking pictures of the fall colors.
Fall Colors
The scenic byway ends at the town of Black Hawk. There aren’t many memories left for me here, though. When I was growing up, Black Hawk and neighboring Central City were practically ghost towns, rich in history but with no economic base to support their residents. The towns sponsored a referendum to allow legalized gambling to create jobs and provide some tax revenue for the county. Now there is an economic base. It seems like a new casino opens up every other week here. The facades of a few of the buildings are all that remain of the old towns.
Black Hawk old & new
Although the Peak-to-Peak may not hold as many memories for you as it does me, it is still well worth the travel. Views of the Continental Divide, golden aspen groves, access to wilderness and a host of delightful communities are just a few of the treasures you will find along the way.
St. Malo Chapel on the Rock is a well-known landmark along the Peak-to-Peak.
