Nature photography and outdoor destination marketing
– Jo Walton
Good advice.
Thanks to Ann-Christine of the Leya blog for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Illustrate a Favorite Quote or Poem.
It’s a year in review, the best of 2023. For this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, we were asked to show no more than 12 of our favorite images from the past year. Wow, that’s a hard choice.
I couldn’t do it. Too many favorites. So I tried to narrow it down from the 112 I’d picked out of my files to just the ones I had never published. I still had far too many.
That’s probably because I’m STILL processing 2023 images and I find new favorites every day. I finally narrowed it down to 15. Culling those last 3 was especially painful, but those were the rules this week. So finally, here it is, my best 12. Unpublished, that is.
The feature image was obviously taken in Grand Teton National Park, under the most amazing lighting. The first big winter storm of the season was due to hit in less than 8 hours. You could see the front coming in. I had to keep moving so I wouldn’t be caught by it, but I got some amazing shots as I was passing through.
The day before, though, the light was horrible in Yellowstone. Yet that harsh, in-your-face glare made this photograph possible. I never would have seen it if I’d had good lighting on the bigger landscape.
I took the Icefields Parkway through Jasper and Banff on my way south from Alaska this year. I’ve included an image from each park. I wish I could have included more. These were the hardest images to narrow down.
My best photo session of the year, though, was Bandon, Oregon. Scenic views, tidal pools… A third of the images in this post are from Bandon, not to mention the photos included in the last two posts. It was a magic couple of days.
The next two images seem like a matched set to me, even though one was from Bandon and the other from Cape Perpetua. I just see them hanging on a wall together.
I was just SO happy to finally visit tide pools and see sea stars!
The landscape at Bandon is so varied, so many views. This next image looked like an alien planet to me, with the grey lighting and minimalist composition. Hard to believe it’s the same beach, and the same day, as the other landscape.
Another great photography day was winter solstice. I’ve included a couple of images from that day. From the base of the Sandia Mountains, I could see the ice blown onto one side of the trees lining the cliff, so I was excited for, and anticipating, this shot all the way up on the tram. I was not disappointed.
This last shot illustrates just how rugged and wild Albuquerque’s backyard wilderness really is.
What will 2024 bring? Ten days in and I’ve already got zen cranes and raptors hunting. I’m so excited to see what’s next! How about you?
Last chance is the theme for the final Lens-Artists Photography Challenge of 2023. Tina asks us to include those photos taken in 2023 that we haven’t published yet, that didn’t fit in with the other themes.
So this post is kind of random, an assortment of images that I like, but that are maybe not for everyone. They’re mostly not the grand scenic stuff. (That’ll be the next post.)
I’ll start with a portrait of Hank. Hank was my favorite of all the kitties I’ve ever pet-sat for. I spent all of last winter hanging out with him.
You’ve seen me post a lot of wildflower images, but not garden flowers. Since I committed to a winterlong housesit last year though, I missed the spring wildflower bloom in the desert and the Sierras. I had to make do with what was around me, and I had fun with the patterns I found in these flowers.
I was pretty antsy and ready for a road trip when I was finally free of my commitment on April 1. I headed down the Oregon Coast, looking for signs of spring, but spring was late in coming. I did find a few signs, though.
In one coastal campground, most of the sites were flooded. Not so good for camping, but great habitat for Skunk Cabbages! (Hey, I’ll take whatever wildflowers I can find!)
I found this sea anemone in a tide pool on Cape Perpetua. I thought it was kind of cute, looked like a heart.
I traveled south all the way to Bandon, where I had one of those perfect days for photography. You know, one of those days when the light is right and every picture you take just works?
This sculpture made a powerful point. It was constructed out of trash washed up on the beach. It was an amazing piece of artwork.
I probably should have just put together a post on the beach at Bandon, so many of these last chance photos are from there. That’s partly because it was the batch of photos I was working on when I first started thinking about this post!
I thought this image was kind of weird and psychedelic but fun. The pink and black rock and the wet sheen made it look like everything was melting. It reminded me of Salvador Dali’s clocks.
The fun in this picture was in the processing. By opening up the exposure I created a high-key image that looks more like an illustration than a photograph!
I spent Easter morning hiking with friends in the Cathedral Hills, in Grants Pass, Oregon. This is another image where I had fun playing with the processing, giving it a misty look, and making it look as much like a painting as a photograph.
Another fun image was captured this fall in Canada’s Jasper National Park, where I had to share the road with a few bighorn sheep. Later during my fall journey South, I also captured the feature image. This was a day when the light was NOT right. I really wanted to visit Yellowstone Falls, but the sun was in the wrong place, mid-afternoon light shining directly in my face when I looked at the falls. Perfect backlight for capturing a small detail, though.
Finally, I had to include one image from last week. I took the Sandia Peak Tram to the top of the mountain to celebrate Solstice, take in the view, and treat myself to a bowl of green chile stew in the fancy restaurant at the top of the mountain. You know, those perfect photo days when the light is right and every picture just works? Uh huh, I got lucky once again. Winter Solstice was one of my best photography days of 2023!
Thanks, Tina, for hosting the Last Chance Challenge. I’m a day late and a dollar short as usual, but it was lots of fun! Happy New Year to you all!
Well, it’s almost Christmas and Winter Solstice is only a few days away. Kind of reminds me of a Dar Williams song, “Christians and the Pagans”. (Give it a listen) There’s a line in that song, “And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere, ”
I’m a pagan at heart, it’s nearly Winter Solstice, and I do find magic everywhere, especially in the natural world. So here are a few of the places and things I find magical.
I’ve always been a mountain girl, and it’s not only the big peaks that are magical. I’m in love with the alpine, the land above treeline. Not just the big views, either, but every little detail. Especially the little details. There’s another Lilliputian world there if you look closely, and it’s a magical place.
.I used to play a game with my visitors when I did Discovery Hikes as a ranger in Denali. I would give them circles of string, about six inches in diameter, and have them enclose a patch of alpine tundra. I would ask them to count all the living species they could find in their circle. Then I would hand out magnifying glasses and have them count again. They always found more the second time around, with that closer look!
Water is life. Literally. Without water, there is no life. It’s a magical substance. And there’s this weird thing that happens occasionally when I photograph waterfalls. Although I don’t see it when I’m making the shot, I will sometimes find a face in the photo (the spirit of the waterfall?) when I open it up to process. That’s what happened in this image. Can you see the face? It’s magical.
There are a lot of magical trees out there. Have you ever meditated with a redwood? Or wandered through the fairyland of a temperate rainforest, like you might find in the Pacific Northwest?
One of the most magical kinds of forests I’ve ever seen are the Madrone/Manzanita woodlands of Oregon’s Siskiyou Mountains, with trees that look like women, decorated with delicate lichens and moss. Magical.
Tide pools are magical places. Especially to me. I’ve been on a mission to find good tide pools, and I’m not always successful. Timing is everything. If you don’t have a real low tide, forget it. But I got lucky last spring, twice; once at Bandon, my favorite spot on the whole Oregon Coast, and then at Cape Perpetua. I scored an awesome campsite with great wildflowers at Cape Perpetua, too.
One of the most miraculous discoveries in my successful tidepooling this spring was that sea stars are coming back! Decimated by sea star wasting disease, it’s been years since there was a healthy starfish population anywhere on the Pacific Coast, but there were a lot of them in Oregon this spring. Brings joy to my heart
Arches and natural bridges are pretty magical, too. I listed them under desert to go with my photo, but you can also find them on the coast, products of erosion, sculpted by the waves. In the desert it’s the wind doing the carving for an arch, and water for the natural bridges.
These nature sculptures are ephemeral. beings. You never know how long they will last. The arch in this photo, Shakespeare Arch, is already gone, collapsing a couple of years ago. I’m glad I saw it when I did because it was a beauty, now gone forever.
Another magical product of erosion are slot canyons. All canyons are magical, never knowing but eagerly anticipating what’s around the next bend as you hike up one. Slots just bring the excitement up a notch, with the beauty of their polished walls and the way they have of drawing you in, deeper and deeper.
A good wildflower season in the desert is definitely magical. To see a landscape that is pretty bleak most of the time, nothing but dirt and rocks, transform into a veritable garden of delight, completely drenched with flowers – well, it’s got to be seen to be believed. Maybe we’ll get lucky this year. Fingers crossed.
Last, but not least, I live in a magical place. When I first came to McCarthy, I felt like I’d discovered Never Never Land. It was a place where you never had to grow up, unique, like nowhere else in the world. That was before social media, before McCarthy was discovered by the rest of the world.
Perhaps it’s not quite so magical now, now that it is on the map. With Instagram, there are no longer any best kept secret magical places. But I’ll bet it’s still pretty magic to people who have never been there before, who are freshly discovering it. And after all, it’s the people who play the largest part in making any place magical, and McCarthy is still filled with amazing, kind, beautiful people, people who keep the magic alive.
Thanks to Ann-Christine of Leya for this week’s Lens-Artist’s Photography Challenge, Magical.
North meets South annually in my life. I migrate. As beautiful as Alaska is in the winter, like the birds and the whales, I prefer to head for warmer climes when the days get shorter.
For years I worked in Death Valley National Park in the winter. People used to tell me, “Wow, you go from one extreme to the other! But I didn’t see it that way.
Sure, there are big differences. In some years I was moving from a park that contained the highest point in North America, Denali, to a park that held the lowest point, the Badwater Basin. But I was actually avoiding the extremes through my travels- escaping the cold of winter in Alaska and dodging the heat of summer in Death Valley.
The predominant colors were different, it’s true – shades of green in Denali and shades of brown in the desert. But the landscapes were surprisingly similar.
In fact, there were far more similarities than there were differences. North meets South, sharing many of the same attributes. When I first applied for a job in Death Valley, an Alaskan friend told me that I’d find it more like home than anywhere else in the lower 48. He was right.
Immense, open panoramas abound in both. The vastness cannot be described, it needs to be experienced. They are landscapes that make you aware of your own insignificance. Death Valley is the largest park in the contiguous United States. Denali is even bigger. In most places, these landscapes seem endless because there are few to no trees. When I worked in Denali, I lived at the Toklat Road Camp, 50 miles into the park. I was surrounded by alpine tundra, not trees.
There are parallels in many of the geological features. Both contain rugged mountain ranges divided by wide valleys. Alluvial fans and glacial outwash plains look surprisingly similar. The raw, naked geology is exciting. The stories that the rocks tell are so much easier to understand in barren landscapes like these.
One aspect that delights me is that both parks are filled with countless nameless canyons to explore. These landscapes invite you to wander.
Sometimes you find similar treasures as you explore these canyons. Did these horns come from Death Valley or Denali?
One way North meets South is through the commonalities of their wildflowers. Both Denali and Death Valley can have phenomenal flower seasons. And plants in both parks use similar adaptations to survive in their harsh environments.
Both Denali and Death Valley pose extremely difficult challenges for the plants and animals that live there. Although one place is scorching hot and the other bitterly cold, they share an element that amplifies the effects of both extremes – wind.
In both places, the growing season is short but intense. In both, you’ll also find that a lot of flowers grow low to the ground. Belly flowers. They often grow closely in mounds or in mats covering the ground, working together to avoid the drying effects of the relentless wind.
Many plants in both places are covered with fine hairs, which keep Denali’s flowers a little warmer and protect Death Valley’s from the harsh sun.
The biggest draw for me personally is that both Denali and Death Valley are incredibly wild, something I’m aching for on tame, benevolent Orcas Island this winter. There is something about the harshness of those landscapes that speaks to my soul. And of course, they’re also both awe-inspiringly beautiful.
Thank you, Amy, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, East Meets West (or North Meets South).
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.
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.
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…
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.
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.
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.