A Change of Scenery – The Redwood Forest

Rusian Gulch State Park

So it’s spring. At least that’s what I hear. In Alaska, it’s hard telling. The days are longer, but temperatures are still hovering somewhere between 10 below and 10 above (Fahrenheit) when I wake up, and it never gets above freezing most days. White is the predominant color. The only other colors you see are the brownish-gray of bark and the deep dark green of the evergreen spruce trees. It will be quite a while yet before the snow melts.

Hatcher's Pass, Alaska
It’s a monochrome landscape in Alaska right now.

I miss color. For over a decade, I spent every March in the California desert, chasing the wildflower bloom. I’m really missing those flowers. My only consolation is that the desert wildflower season this year is a bust because it has been so dry. If I’m going to miss a year, this was a good year to miss.

But I’m still craving color, and warmth. It’s going to be locked in white here, and anywhere else I could drive to, for quite a few more weeks yet. I could use a change of scenery.

Redwood Sorrel
I miss color, and flowers – like this redwood sorrel from the redwood forest.

If there are no flowers in the desert, I guess I should look somewhere else for color. How about the redwood forests of northern California? There’s plenty of green there and a few flowers, too. Might be a nice place to travel to, even if it is only in my imagination!{

Trillium change color as they grow older, turning from white to pink to red.

Redwoods are the tallest trees in the world, over 50 feet taller than any other species. They are one of the largest trees on the planet, too. Redwood trees you can drive through are a popular northern California tourist attraction.

They are fast-growing and long-lived. Although the average age for an old-growth redwood is 500 to 600 years, some specimens have been recorded at over 2,200 years old!

Jedidiah Smith State Park, CA
Redwood trees are massive!

Redwood trees are water hogs. They have to be, they’re so tall. It’s hard for water to make it all the way from the roots to the crown, 100 meters up. Even though they live in a seasonally rainy climate, the trees depend on fog to survive. They can absorb water through their bark and their leaves, and 30% of their water needs are filled by fog.

Mendocino County
Fog is essential for a redwood tree’s survival.

The rainier and foggier it is, the taller the trees grow. The tallest redwoods grow deep in the valleys where the fog settles in. One of the challenges facing redwood trees in these days of global climate change is that there is much less fog than there used to be along the northern California coast.

Russian Gulch State Park, CA
Redwoods need a lot of water.

Once their forests spread for millions of acres throughout California’s central and northern coastal lands, all the way from Big Sur to southern Oregon. Then gold was discovered in 1849.

Redwood trees were a lumberman’s dream come true. Not only were the trees humongous, the wood was really something special. Light and beautiful, it absorbed water and resisted rot because of all the tannins it contained. Low in resins, it was also much more resistant to fire than most woods.

Avenue of the Giants
Redwood trees built San Francisco both before and after the 1906 earthquake and fire.

Less than 5% of the original old-growth forest remains. These forests, which had thrived undisturbed for thousands of years, were decimated in less than one human lifetime.

By 1908, the California Federation of Women’s Clubs presented a children’s petition with 2,000 signatures to the Forest Service, asking them to protect some of the remaining trees for future generations, to create a national redwood park before they were all gone.

Navarro River Redwoods
Redwood bark is resistant to fire.

By 1918 the Save the Redwoods League formed, part of the same conservation movement that created the National Park Service. In fact, Stephen Mather, the first director of the National Park Service, was an integral part of the formation of the League.

However, there was no Redwoods National Park until 1968. Instead, the Save the Redwoods League saved the trees. They raised money and bought up tracts of virgin redwood forest wherever and whenever they could. Eventually, they established 66 different redwood parks and reserves. Many of these groves formed the backbone of California’s state park system.

Avenue of the Giants
Avenue of the Giants

All these facts and figures and history of the redwoods may be fascinating, but there are no words to describe the most important things about a redwood forest.  Anyone who has spent time in the redwoods would agree, though.

These forests are magical. They’re enchanted. Although they have no words, these ancient beings will speak to you if you give them a chance. Call me a treehugger, but a living redwood is a sentient being.

Avenue of the Giants
Can you see the spirit’s face in this one?

Walking in a redwood forest is a healing experience, a meditation.  You will emerge a calmer and wiser soul than you were when you arrived.  I highly recommend it for the next time you are craving a change of scenery.

Thank you, Beth, of Wandering Dawgs, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, “A Change of Scenery”.

Fun With the Letter S

Mendocino sunset

Opening shot: Solitude at Sunset by the Seaside

Mendocino County, CA
Sunrise Silhouettes

Tuscon, AZ
(P)sychedelic Saguaro Sunset

Death Valley CA
Soft sensuous sand dunes

For this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Patti @ Pilotfishblog asks, “What images can you find that feature a subject that begins with the letter S? For an added challenge, capture an image that illustrates a concept with the letter S, such as serene, sharp, spooky, or silent.” So, see if I have succeeded!

Oregon wildflowers
Shocking Pink Shooting Stars

Matanuska Peak
Snowy slopes seem like superb skiing but are susceptible to slides. Stay safe!

Elephant Seal Piedras Blancas Reserve
Surreal seal

Piedras Blancas Wildlife Reserve
Surly snarling seal

Muncho Lake Provincial Park
Sweet Stone Sheep on a steep slope

Death Valley National Park
Snake! Scary slithery Sidewinder sleeping in the shade

Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge
Slender Sandhill Cranes and a swarm of Snow Geese salute the sunrise.

Sayonara!

 

My Photography Journey

The art of seeing

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.

Copper Mountain
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.

Argentine Pass
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.

Eccles Pass
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.

Mayflower Gulch
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, Alaska
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.

Wrangell-St. Elias National Park
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.

Hardware Store McCarthy, Alaska
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 National Park
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.

Death Valley National Park
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.

Nakedstem Sunray
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?

Prickly Poppy
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.

 

 

Stripes and Checks – Lens-Artist’s Photography Challenge #132

Death Valley National Park

This week’s Lens-Artists Photography Challenge is stripes and checks.

When I think stripes, zebra is the first thing to come to mind.

Stripes are easy, I thought. There are lots of stripes in nature. I thought of the multi-layered sedimentary rock that makes up so many of the spectacular landscapes of the desert Southwest.

Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument

There are lines of light and shadow.

Death Valley Dunes

You see stripes everywhere.

Checks, not so much.

These are sort of checks – I guess.

After all, Mother Nature is not really into squares and rectangles much. That’s more of a human thing, in most cases.

This plant is sort of checked.

But there are exceptions. The guinea fowl is the exception in this case. They totally sport the checked look in their wardrobe.

Isn’t biodiversity grand?

 

 
 

It’s A Small World – Belly Flowers

Forget-Me-Nots

Some of my favorite wildflowers are the belly flowers, blooms so small and low to the ground you need to get down on your belly to really check them out. These treasures grow in two of my favorite habitats, the desert and alpine tundra.

Belly flowers
Blackish Oxytrope

I mentioned in my Then and Now post last month that these two habitats, although vastly different, share lots of astonishing similarities.  When Anne Sandler of Slow Shutter Speed chose “It’s a Small World” as the theme for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to expound on one of those similarities, belly flowers.

Belly flowers
Desert Mohavia

The tundra can be incredibly cold and the desert unbelievably hot, but one challenge common to both is the wind – harsh, desiccating winds that will suck the life out of most plants. Laying low is a good strategy for plants that live in these extreme environments.

Death Valley National Park
Desert Star

Laying low is a great strategy, (and one that I can relate to during this crazy winter!) but it’s not always enough. There are other strategies that many of these plants share, too. For instance, most belly flowers hold onto moisture and prevent harm from damaging UV rays by wearing a sweater. In both the desert and the mountains, many belly flowers have fuzzy leaves or even furry flowers. These hairs not only protect them from too much sun, they also help hold in moisture so it doesn’t evaporate as quickly.

Round leaf Willow
Many belly flowers have fuzzy leaves or furry flowers.

Have you ever crowded together with your friends on a cold, blustery day to stay warm? Some plants grow in cushions or mounds for the same reason. Low, rounded cushions do not leave much surface area exposed to the elements. They retain water, soaking it in instead of letting it all run off.  They also catch dust and dirt blowing in the wind and anchor it in place. Since both habitats have thin, poor, rocky soils, capturing and anchoring the minerals and nutrients blowing by is an excellent survival strategy.  Moss campion is the best-known alpine cushion flower. My favorite desert cushion is Turtleback.

Death Valley National Park
Turtleback

Turtlebacks were named after their resemblance to a turtle shell, but those convoluted, gray-green leaves also look a lot like a certain important body part. On one of my favorite hikes as a ranger, I was leading a small group up a nameless, nondescript wash in Death Valley. I was walking with an older, slower visitor and let some of the other visitors take the lead. Around a bend in the canyon, I found a little girl and her father crouched down, intently studying something on the ground in front of them. “What did you find?”, I asked. The little girl looked up, face filled with wonder, and said, “We found a brain flower!”

Turtleback
Brain Flower

Survival strategies are good, but worthless if you can’t pass them on to the next generation. Reproduction strategies are important, too. For some belly flowers, it’s a numbers game. If there are lots and lots and lots of flowers, the odds are that some will survive long enough for their seeds to mature. It may be easy to overlook one or two tiny flowers, but if you have thousands upon thousands of them, the blooms will literally carpet hillsides and paint the entire landscape with their pastel colors.

Denali National Park
Alpine Azalea carpets acres of tundra

Other flowers are more flamboyant, sure to be noticed by pollinators because of both their size and bright colors. The plant lays low, diminutive and nondescript until it’s showtime. Then it’s hard to believe such a teeny tiny plant could produce such a big, showy flower.

Denali National Park
Kittentails are flashy flowers.

Many flowers use yet another reproduction strategy, one that is a great reason to get down on your belly and up close and personal. Attract those pollinators with your irresistible perfume!  Rock Jasmine, an alpine flower – well, the name says it all. Desert Sand Verbena is another one. It has the loveliest fragrance of any flower in the desert.

Death Valley National Park
Desert Sand Verbena

I have a little game for you to play. With so many strategies in common, it could be hard to tell a desert belly flower from an alpine one. Check out the following five flowers. Can you tell which ones are desert flowers and which ones grow in the Alaskan tundra? Leave your thoughts in the comments. I’ll put the answers there in a few days, and also let you know in next week’s post.

Denali National Park
Is this a desert wildflower?

Purple Mat
Or a mountain flower?

Death Valley National Park
Which one is it?

Spring Beauty
Can you tell?

Bigelow Mimulus
Guess!

By the way, it IS a small world. During these difficult times, it’s good for the soul to practice gratitude and express thanks for the little things in life. It helps make dealing with the big things a little easier. Thanks for reading my posts! Until next time, Happy Trails!

A Quiet Moment

Alaska Wildflowers

I’d like to share a quiet moment I recently had on the McCarthy Road. I was chasing rainbows, looking for them, knowing the light was right. Trees blocked my first glimpse, but if I could make it to the pond before it faded…

I caught the tail end for just a few seconds before the shower came back and blocked the sun.

Rainbow on the McCarthy Road
Caught the last glimpse

Usually, this spot is all about the birds. It’s a favored Trumpeter Swan nesting place most years. But this year it’s the flowers.

Trumpeter Swans
Swan & Cygnet

I was hunting for orchids. They love that moist mossy patch of roadside.  I hoped I’d get lucky and spot one or two. What I found was a whole hill just covered with them. (I wished I’d brought  a better close-up lense.)

The Roundleaf Orchids were my favorites. I guess you might say the Roundleaf Orchid is a quiet flower. Like some people I know. Tiny belly flowers, easy to overlook, but if you really focus on them, a priceless treasure.

Alaska Wildflowers
Roundleaf Orchids

There were other flowers, too, over a dozen different varieties. Not big fields like a Mojave Desert superbloom, but scattered here and there through the grasses and the willows.

But I guess it wasn’t a quiet moment after all. A symphony of birdsong filled the air. It was more of a peaceful moment.

Wrangell-St. Elias National Park
Lupines

What was quiet was the road. I stopped for at least 20 minutes and not another car came by going either direction. On solstice weekend!

It reminded me of the old days, before the rest of the world discovered McCarthy, when it was never-never land.

Sparrow's Egg Orchids
The hillside was covered with orchids!

It’s pretty quiet in McCarthy so far this season. There are a few visitors, mostly fellow Alaskans, but no crowds. I like that. It’s the tiny silver lining in the increasingly black cloud of our present-day reality.

But this quiet moment definitely feels like the calm before the storm. Travel restrictions have been lifted. The 4th of July will bring a huge influx of visitors.

A Quiet Moment
Sparrow’s Egg and Roundleaf Orchids

Alaskan villages are haunted by the specter of the last epidemic, the 1918 flu epidemic. Alaska was one of the places hardest hit by that scourge. It completely wiped out entire villages. And it wasn’t the first wave that got ’em, it was the second.

The first wave hasn’t even hit here yet. It could happen again. We’re very far from medical care.

McCarthy, Alaska
Quiet days in McCarthy

But this is also a town with an economy based entirely on tourism. What is the balance between economic survival and the lives of others in your community? That is the question that our village, along with the rest of the nation, is wrestling with now. Even in a community as remote and close-knit as ours, neighbor is pitted against neighbor in this struggle between economic prosperity and keeping people safe.

Personally, I feel that the lives of my friends and neighbors are priceless, much more priceless than that beautiful roundleaf orchid. They’re worth taking a few precautions for, making a few sacrifices.

Historic buildings
McCarthy

If you love McCarthy, maybe for this year’s Fourth of July you might consider giving us a pass and recreating closer to home. If you must come out, do your best to keep us safe. Avoid the crowds. Keep socially distant. Please, please wear a mask. It’s not about politics, it’s about being considerate to others and not passing on a deadly disease that you’re not aware you’re carrying. It’s about keeping all of us here for each other for just a little while longer. Take a quiet moment and think about our community, which like that orchid, is so beautiful but so very fragile.

Thank you, Patti of Pilotfish, for this Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. I’m a day late and a dollar short due to connectivity issues, but better late than never.