McCarthy Road Archives ~ Rambling ranger

February 10, 2023

Monochrome: Shadows and Reflections

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.

Monochrome reflections — 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.

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…

blue monochrome image - living sculpture — a natural living sculpture

Williams, Oregon — Christmas morning, 2021

monochrome Bandon Beach sunset — Bandon Beach

I think the beach may be my favorite place to make monochrome images.

But there are so many nice reflections on the McCarthy Road, too.

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.

Pond lily monochrome — Infrared in late afternoon light

Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve — Standard 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.

Monochrome moonset on the Bosque — 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.

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.

Thank you, Patti, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Shadows and Reflections in Monochrome.

February 4, 2023February 4, 2023

Messages

Sometimes messages are loud and clear and easy to read. We especially try to do this with warnings.

Sometimes they need a little interpretation.

McCarthy, Alaska — But are generally kind, loving people.

Sometimes we read messages from the past, but can no longer understand them.

Dinosaur National Park — These petroglyphs are nearly a thousand years old.

El Morro National Monument — What does this mean?

Sometimes what might seem like a message is just a coincidence.

Radium Hot Springs, B.C. — Truth in advertising?

But sometimes we think a clear message is just a coincidence.

McCarthy Road mudslide — Melting permafrost due to climate change is trouble for Alaska roads.

Nature sends us lots of messages. Some are easy to read.

messages in the sand — A Kangaroo Rat came by here last night.

This message I read loud and clear every autumn.

The view from my front porch — Leaves are falling all around
It’s time I was on my way

Sometimes Nature’s messages need a little interpretation. For instance, when an animal turns its back to you like this, they’re saying, “I’m pretending you’re not there. Now go away and leave me alone!”

Or when the fireweed reaches the top of its stem, it means summer is over.

Summer is over message — Summer is ending!

We ignore some of nature’s messages at our own peril.

Here’s another one we are ignoring at our own peril. Global climate change is real. Sea levels are rising. I awoke one day last month to find that the sea had invaded the yard and the ocean was throwing logs onto the lawn. The homeowners say this has never happened before, but I’m willing to bet it won’t be long before it happens again. Mother Nature is sending us clear messages. You might even call them warnings. We need to pay attention.

Thanks to Wind Kisses for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Messages.

December 31, 2022

Last Chance – Northland Favorites

When Patti announced “Last Chance”, our unpublished favorites from 2022 as last week’s Lens- Artist’s Photo Challenge, I knew I had an embarrassment of riches. Since I took a long hiatus from my blog this year, I had way too many favorites for one post. Since I spend about half the year down south housesitting and the other half home in Alaska, it seemed like an easy way to solve my dilemma would be to split my images into two installments. Last week’s post was “Below the 49th Parallel,” and I’m happy to share my Northland favorites this week.

Any roundup of the Rambling Ranger’s favorites would have to include a flower pic or two. My favorites this year were all taken in ponds along the McCarthy Road. My very favorite flower pic of the year I shared a couple of weeks ago in my “Patterns” post, Bog Beans and their shadows. I mentioned in that post that the flowers were exquisite when viewed up close, so here’s a closer view. My other flower pic is a combination lily shot, both Pond Lilies and Water Lilies growing together. Technically it’s a little messy and maybe not one of my best, but this post is about favorites, not bestest, right? Although sometimes they’re one and the same…

I took a one-day photo workshop through the Wrangell Mountains Center with Paul Scannell and Anna Mikuskova. One of our exercises was to each pick a piece of paper out of a hat, with an intangible concept written on it, then go out and shoot that concept. We were given 15 or 20 minutes to complete the assignment. My concept was “rebirth.” I shared a different image with the group that better illustrated rebirth, but this image was my favorite from that exercise.

Northland Favorites — Think I might call this one “Green”.

Since I spend most of my spare time at home working on the homestead, that’s where a lot of my favorites come from. I thought I’d try a square format on this image.

This B&W image is my very favorite part of the view from my front porch. I don’t know of anyone who has the view of this ridgeline that I do, and in my opinion, it’s one of the most amazing views in the Wrangells. And get this – none of those white mountains even has a name, not even the real high one lost in the clouds. That’s how wild this place is! The dark mountain in front is Mt. Donaho, which blocks this ridgeline from most of my neighbors’ properties.

Wrangell Mountains — My favorite part of my amazing view

The last shot I’m including from the homestead is my favorite aspen tree, the one right outside my front door. The fall colors were fabulous this year.

I spent a little time this fall at the toe of the Kennicott Glacier, less than a mile from McCarthy. It’s an interesting place to be. With global climate change and the glacier melting, the lake at the toe gets bigger all the time. The Kennicott Glacier has a surface moraine and is covered with debris. That ice is moving a lot of rock! Any image you take here is ephemeral. It will definitely look different a year or two from now. Here’s the face of the glacier with some of the surrounding mountains.

I try to make a fall road trip on the Denali Highway every year if I can. This year I went for it, even though the weather was dismal when I left McCarthy. On my first night out, it poured buckets. The forecast called for more rain, but surprisingly, the morning dawned bluebird. I got the best views I have ever seen of Mt. Deborah and Mt. Hayes. Meanwhile, back in McCarthy, it dumped inches. It rained so hard it washed everyone in Kennecott’s water systems out of National Creek, including the Park Service’s! So glad I made the road trip! The feature shot is of the Susitna River with Deborah and Hayes dominating the view.

One of my Northland favorites from that trip became a favorite during post-processing, when I noticed a grizzly bear in the photo. I didn’t see it when I took the picture! It’s over a quarter mile away, in the center of the photo, before the line of trees. Look for the light spot. Fall can be a scary time for a bear encounter in Alaska. They match the fall colors and can be hard to spot.

My last Northland favorite is from Canada’s Cassiar Highway. I camped at a remote lake, where I witnessed possibly the most colorful sunset/sunrise cycle I’ve ever seen. Both sunrise and sunset morphed through every color imaginable, from gold to orange to red to purple to pink. And it was completely still. Incredible reflections and color combos. I couldn’t pick a favorite shot, but this is one of them.

What fabulous images will the New Year bring? I can’t wait to find out!

November 18, 2022November 19, 2022

Neighbors

OK, I’m back. It’s been a while since I wrote a post, more than six months. My Mom passed away and then life got really busy. I needed time to grieve. Something had to give, and with the internet connection challenges of my remote rural Alaska home, it was the blog. But I’m back now, and I wanted to mention a few of my neighbors, who I can always count on to bring a smile to my face.

I’m not talking about just my human neighbors, although they, too, can be counted on to bring a smile to my face. I’m not the only one who’s gotten busier lately. We seldom have time to visit anymore.

I see a lot more of my other neighbors, the wild ones. They visit often. Some of them are practically roommates, like the porcupine who moved in under the house in the spring of 2020, when I was a little late getting back home to Alaska due to Covid. I had to evict that squatter. He was a bad roommate. He chewed up the hose connecting my propane tank to the house.

Pine Grosbeak — Songbirds bring joy to my life.

Some neighbors are always welcome. My favorites are the songbirds. Waking up to their songs brings joy to my life daily.

Another species that I see often in the fall is the spruce grouse. It’s a mystery. I don’t understand it. These birds don’t migrate. They live here year-round. Yet they’re everywhere in the fall, but you NEVER see them in the spring and summer. Where are they? It is a mystery.

The snowshoe hares go through big population boom and busts, too. It’s about an 11-year cycle. Some years you are practically tripping on them, there are so many. Then the population crashes and you can go a whole summer and maybe see one.

Some neighbors can be obnoxious. I’m talking about tree rats, aka squirrels. They have no conception of private property and will trash your house and steal your insulation to use in their own home. Obnoxious. So I was really glad to see a new addition to my neighborhood this fall, a pine martin. He’ll clean out those pesky squirrels!

Another neighbor I’m usually happy to see is the moose. They’re good at teaching ME that lesson about private property. The lesson that there is no such thing. My land belongs to them, too. I hate to have them visit when they are intent on eating the garden or chowing down on that going-to-be oh-so-photogenic patch of head-high fireweed blossoms that would perfectly set off my best view, the day before they would flower.

Black Bear Cubs — Cute, but stay outta my yard!

Then there’s the neighbor that Alaska is famous for, the one I am much happier NOT seeing in my yard. Ever. Bears. I could see either black bear or grizzlies in my neighborhood, although thank goodness not as often as I saw them when I was renting a house in the middle of a soapberry patch. But you have to always be aware, every single time you walk out the door, that they could be there, maybe just around the corner. I mean, I’m glad I live in a place where I can still run into a bear on Main Street, as I did this summer in Kennecott. But I hope they stay away from my house!

I have another new neighbor in the ‘hood, down in McCarthy town, in Clear Creek, where I get my water. We are getting a few, though I wouldn’t call it a run yet, red salmon now coming up Clear Creek. We’ve had an October run of silver salmon for a long time, but the reds have only started showing up the last few years, in August.

It’s because of the dynamic landscape we live in, constantly changing and changing ever more quickly these days due to the glacial retreat caused by global climate change. The hydrological changes in the town of McCarthy are especially striking. Land that was forest when I first moved here is now wetland. The little pond at the toe of the glacier is now a big lake. These changes have made the area more attractive for some creatures, like beaver and salmon, but caused some big challenges for us, the human residents.

Dall's Sheep above Chitina — Dall’s Sheep above Chitina

There are other neighbors living a little farther away, but still in what I would consider the neighborhood. These friends I don’t see as often maybe but enjoy whenever I get the chance. There’s that family of swans in the Chokosna ponds area. It’s always nice to catch up with them, and see how many cygnets they’re raising this year. I might see the occasional bald eagle, or rarer still, a glimpse of Dall’s Sheep in the Crystalline Hills or up above the town of Chitina. Maybe I’ll see a lynx along the McCarthy Road, or a weasel in Kennecott. I’m glad to live in a community with so many wonderful neighbors!

Thanks to Anne of Slow Shutter Speed for this week’s Lens-Artist Photography Challenge, “Wildlife Close To Home”.

January 7, 2022

My Favorite Photos of 2021

I tried to keep it down to 12, but I couldn’t. Here is a baker’s dozen of my favorite photos of 2021.

It was really hard to cut it down to just a baker’s dozen. Reviewing the images I’ve captured over the last year, I realized that what I had were favorite photographic moments, not individual photos.

Alaska alpenglow in the Chugach Mountains — Purple Mountain’s Majesty, a favorite photographic moment.

You know, when you’re really in the zone, actively practicing the Art of Seeing? You might take a whole series of shots and not be able to choose one in the series as the best. That’s how I felt about a lot of these images.

I tried to disqualify images I’d already published in this blog (mostly!) So if you read my last few blog posts, you’ll find a few more favorites I wish I could include.

Alaska alpenglow Chugach Mountains — Knik Glacier

Despite all the darkness and cold, there are some things about winter in Alaska that are really special and that I miss when I’m not there, kind of a reward for those who tough it out. One is the aurora, of course. Another is the special pink sunset/twilight glow in the sky on certain cold, clear nights. Although I got lots of great alpenglow, I didn’t see as many pink light evenings as I have in past winters. But I did get it one evening when I photographed the Knik Glacier.

I went to Homer to see a few birds this spring. The migration was a bit disappointing, but I did get some wonderful eagle shots!

This is my favorite flower shot for 2021. I didn’t shoot nearly as many flowers as in years past, since I stayed in Alaska and didn’t follow the bloom. But I saw two brand new flowers I’d never noticed before in a few ponds along the McCarthy Road, White Water Lilies and Wild Calla.

Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, New Mexico — Sunrise on the Bosque

It was October. It was not yet prime time for birds at Bosque del Apache. Due to the drought, the ponds on the edge of the refuge that are usually the go-to spots for bird photographers trying to catch the spectacle of the Bosque were dry. I wasn’t expecting much. I only had one day to spare. But the Bosque is a magical place and doesn’t disappoint. Having fewer sources of water concentrated the birds that were there. I was surprised to realize that three of my favorite photos for the entire year were taken on that day.

Even though I published the sunrise photo in a prior post, I had to include it since it was probably my second-most favorite photo for the year. Also, I processed it a little differently this time and think it does a better job of capturing the feel of sunrise on the Bosque.

Vesper Sparrows — Every leaf on this tree is a bird.

As I slowly drove by, I realized that all those “dead leaves” on that tree were birds. Then they took off and I was swept up by a cloud of birds. The Bosque is bird heaven!

California Coastal National Monument — Sunset on the beach at San Simeon

This might be my favorite photo of 2021. Except it’s one of those photographic moments, one of a series… I like the vertical images I captured of this scene a lot, too! Both this image and the feature image were taken on the beach at San Simeon in California. The island the cormorants are roosting on is part of the California Coastal National Monument. It is usually just offshore except during a very low tide, like this one.

I absolutely fell in love with the manzanitas and madrones of southern Oregon in November and December. I can’t choose my very favorite madrone/manzanita photo. I have about 20 favorites. But they were my favorite thing to photograph all year. So here’s one I haven’t published.

Cathedral Hills, Oregon — Manzanita Bark

I couldn’t choose a favorite detail shot of that forest, either. I have about a dozen favorites of bark, lichens, mushrooms… But this is definitely one of those favorites.

Skyline Trail, Cathedral Hills, Oregon — What is it?

This is definitely my favorite abstract of the year, though. Can you guess what it is?

This final shot conveys my thoughts and hopes for 2022, that the light burns through the fog of the last couple of crazy years and brings us all many happy blessings. Welcome 2022!

Thank you to Tina Schell of Travels and Trifles for hosting this week’s Lens Artists Challenge, Favorite Photos of 2021.

April 23, 2021

Migration

Not all birds leave Alaska in the winter. Some birds are tough and hardy and stick it out. Some just endure the winter, others adapt. Their very physiology changes to help them contend with the cold a little better.

I wanted to be like them and adapt when I stayed up here this year. I wanted to adapt but I found that I just endured. I’m more like most birds.

Most birds have decided that the best way to deal with winter is to avoid it. They migrate. I like that lifestyle. I can relate. So I am delighted that it is finally migration time.

It’s migration time in Alaska, and we’re all very excited to see our old friends coming back. Swans are everywhere, with reports coming in from friends in Anchorage, Fairbanks and McCarthy. Sandhill cranes are in Fairbanks, although our local Palmer flock hasn’t shown up quite yet. Any day now, though. Maybe when I go out to shoot the sunset this evening they will have arrived. One can hope!

Sandhill Cranes — Maybe they’ll show up today!

Here in Palmer a huge mixed flock of Snow Geese and Canadian Geese was spotted in a farmer’s field, flushed by a passing eagle. The birds are flying north, more every day. Ducks are landing in ponds the minute the ice melts. It’s a birdwatcher’s dream all over Alaska, but there is one place in particular that will surely transport you to birder nirvana.

That place is Cordova. The fishing village of Cordova is the gateway to the vast and pristine Copper River Delta, one of the greatest wetland ecosystems in North America. Ninety percent of the birds migrating along the Pacific Flyway stop here, in the largest wetlands on the entire route. It’s a staging area, spring break for the birds traveling to their summer homes in Alaska from their winter abodes in places as far away as the tip of South America.

Moss Landing — Spring break for migrating birds!

Nearly 5 million shorebirds depend on the Delta to rest and recharge. At high tide on the mudflats at Hartney Bay, endless flocks of sandpipers and dunlins perform an intricate aerial ballet. Look closer and you’ll find dozens of other species. Thirty-six different shorebird species, including the entire North American population of Western Sandpipers, inhabit the shoreline, in terrain varying from silty mudflats to rocky beaches.

And that’s just the beach. The marshes in the Delta are as fertile as the shoreline. Standing on the boardwalk at Alaganik Slough, an overwhelming cacophony of sound will greet you, the mating songs of a thousand birds reverberating through the twilight. The only thing louder than the trumpeting of the swans is the crazy braying of Dusky Canadian Geese. But the strange and eerie sound of a snipe performing its’ corkscrew skydive mating dance is the command performance in this incredible bird opera.

Immature eagle — Cordova has lots of eagles, too!

I was lucky enough to catch that show not once, but twice. But it’s been twenty years. I was hoping to make it back this spring, but Cordova is a bit off the beaten path.

Budget cuts to the Alaska Marine Highway have eliminated ferry service to Cordova outside of peak tourist season, so the only way in now is to fly. Cordova won’t be happening for me this year after all.

But I still want to take a birding trip to celebrate the transition from winter to summer. I need a spring break. I’m thinking about spending a few days at the end of another road, in the little town of Homer.

Homer doesn’t have as many birds as Cordova. Cordova is in a class by itself. But Homer has some great migrations passing through, too. And some of the birds are different. Homer is a lot farther west. I might even see a bird I’ve never seen before.

After that spring break, it will probably be time for me to take flight too, moving from the Matanuska Valley to the Wrangell Mountains and my home in McCarthy. I’ll wait for the snow and ice to melt, then follow those migrating birds, and greet them in the ponds along the way.

Trumpeter Swans — I’ll greet old friends at the ponds along the way.

It will be great to see all my old friends, both human and avian, both the tough hardy ones that stick it out through the long cold and the ones who migrate.

Thank you, Tina, for this week’s Lens-Artist’s Photo Challenge, Taking Flight. It’s migration time. I’m so excited!

Tag: McCarthy Road

Monochrome: Shadows and Reflections

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Messages

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Last Chance – Northland Favorites

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Neighbors

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My Favorite Photos of 2021

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Migration

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