Night in Havasupai

Ever wonder what demons come out after dark? They posses the living, steal their rationality. Sometimes it happens to people in paradise as well. The fringes of daylight introduce a different way of looking, and seeing. It all began with an exploration of the night, in Havasupai. I was to meet a couple of friends, and they with a couple of their friends. And eventually a couple more of their friends. I had arrived well before dark. I enjoyed a few beers, and a sandwich. As dusk approached I began to examine Hualapai Hilltop at night.  I prepared a long exposure series featuring the flashlights of hikers emerging from the canyon depths.  The sky was dark, and the only ambient light that fell was from the stars.

Then they arrived. My two friends, and their two friends. I had not met them before, and in the dark illuminated by a simple headlamp, their faces bobbed in and out of unrecognizable clarity. They left no impression on me, and I had no grasp of what they actually looked like.  As it turned out the next morning, they did indeed look completely different.  That's how the demons work, they operate in that realm of uncertainty. The day had come and gone, and we had sunken deep into the canyon.  Darkness is darker in the canyon.  The light from the atmosphere, or moon or stars fail to reach the inner depths. What lies in shadow during the day, likes like pitch at night. Space, unrecognizable space. A flashlight will allow you to move around. It will lead you like an orb through a tunnel.  Another two of their friends arrived. I didn't know them either, a thin girl, and her husband Brian. An impish fellow, an extrovert speaking constantly in different accents. Mostly East Indian. "Very very goot. Very goot."  He was likened to say on many occasions. Shortly after dinner I noticed the moon had broken the darkness. At least on one side of the canyon. The other side still had large voids.  But the clouds. The clouds were glowing. It was unmistakable. A fight had begun between the light and the dark.  The moon had risen and flowed into the canyon, illuminating the clouds, which in return refracted the light into ambient light. It began filling the canyon.  It was time to get to the falls to capture the struggle.

The moon was playing with the clouds, and mist from the falls. The clouds slowly, persistently receding, the water incessantly pounding. This unworldly scene was unfolding, and emoting a peculiar energy. The power and struggle of nature against it's elements. With no regard for me or mankind. I tried illuminating the falls with a flashlight but the mist played games with the wind and light. An odd reaction occurred. The water droplets became lightning bugs. Darting and dodging afloat on the air currents generated by the energy of the falls. It was time to return to camp, my mood elevated. My sense of wonderment deeply affected. As I moved between light and shadow, I was reminded a headlamp was still necessary. Excessive contrast in the shadows hid unseen perils. I could easily turn an ankle. The closer I got to camp, the energy began to change. I heard music, techno music. An impish figure emerged, spinning glow sticks. Strangely out of place in nature, a rave. Fueled by alcohol, and visual candy. A hand began to reach out, grab me and pull me in.

Suddenly a glow stick hit the ground and rolled into a tent. This unleashed an angry creature. A man in the neighboring camp trying to sleep lurched out as if it were a lion from a cave. It attacked the imp. A struggle ensued. Demons fighting between the fringes of light and dark. Rolling on the sand arms were flying, voices raised. "Ken, stop it Ken..." "Brian, No Brian!" As if the needle scratching a record, the music stopped. Campers gathered around the demons in a ring. Dust and fury, legs and arms. It was unclear who had the advantage. Then the movement ended. Ken had lost, and was pinned face down in a Half Nelson. Adrenaline pumping, we all awaited the next move. The crowd began to banter, and for a moment it was unclear if a riot were to begin. Alas the two factions pulled the demons apart, and each returned to their respective shadows. Quietly grumbling until darkness and sleep arrested the camp. I had written before about this paradise of Havasupai. For all the beauty and nature, this little canyon, suffers from the evil spirits of mankind. They lead you down dangerous paths, of mine shafts and murder. Each time I visit I'm reminded how man has become at odds with nature. The balance has been upset. In this microcosm every step has profound repercussions. And I worry about our fate as we propel ourselves in orders of magnitude toward the future. We have become the demons, and I fear that future, and the darkness of that unknown.

The Arches of Alabama Hills- Mobius Arch

Last October I had the fortuante opportunity to join a workshop in the Eastern Sierras with Guy Tal and Jack Graham.  The workshop started in the Alabama Hills area off the Whitney Portal Road leading out of Lone Pine California. We all rose at about four thirty to gather and caravan to a parking area that featured a view of Mt Whitney and the mountain range. Standing in the dark we were pointed toward the range to capture the sunrise.  Once the sun made it's appearance we were led on a trail that encircles three natural arches hidden in this un-earthly terrain. Mobius Arch and  others sit as a surreal frame to the distant snow capped mountains.  The group took turns framing this classic composition discovered many years ago. Hollywood film crews have made the Alabama Hills their backdrop for dozens of movies and commercials.  Many famous photographers have tromped these hills discovering more and more arches.  David Muench, for example has been capturing these arches since the early 50s.  He's discovered hidden arches, and deliberately left them un-mapped and un-named to protect the delicate rock surrounding it.  Galen Rowell has also taken famous images of Mobius Arch.  Although many before me have captured the arch, I was inspired to return after the end of the worshop to make my image.  I've been practicing throughout the trip with light painting and have been making images with dual, and sometimes triple light sources.  The third light source being the moon, of course.  I had been keenly aware of the moon and it's cycles for ten or so days now and had a good feeling of where and when I needed to be to take advantage of this natural light source. I rose at about two thirty in the morning to make the short hike.  I set up a Petzel headlamp behind the arch, and a large Mag-lite on the side below. The different angles and color temperatures of the sources helped make the image a little more surreal. The moon illuminating the mountain range helped make this image possible.



   I repeated the process with another arch, just a few hundred feet away, Lathe Arch.  Earlier in the day I attempted to locate more of the arches, as well as the un-named one, but ultimately failed.  Perhaps another day.  The only other arch I could find, was one nearby as well.  I'm not sure what the arch's name is, but I'll call it Heart Arch.  This was taken during the workshop just as the light was beginning to get harsh.  Some people may ask why bother taking an image that's been done time after time.  Indeed a simple Google search reveals many dozens of renditions of these arches.   I had visited Galen Rowell's gallery in Bishop and have seen these images of his. I guess you can think of it as an homage. What good is Beethoven's music if it isn't performed over and over? Think of this as my personal performance. 

Four Falls - Havasupai

I written a few times about the grandeur of the falls in the quaint Indian Reservation of the Havasupai Tribe in the Grand Canyon.  What started as a crush in high school has become a full blown love affair over time. I've had a chance to study the culture in an anthropology course in college, and backpacked the ten miles to visit four times.  This last time I decided to study the reservation with my camera.  Five beautiful spring days were spent standing in warm blue-green water. From dusk to dawn I tried to capture the essence and moods, pushing my gear and prowess to the limits.  If you browse through the blog here you will find what I have discovered and experienced over the course of decades.   Every once and a while a particular image has to be showcased. Many elements have to come together and be captured to properly portray the feeling felt while standing there.  This image is one of those.  I had spent the day hiking to the lower Beaver Falls, and upon returning I came to this scene, just below Mooney Falls.  A number of times I've tried to capture it, but only recently had the skills and technology to process it to fruition.   I was struck by the last light of day reflecting off the higher canyon wall, not to mention the vantage of seeing four falls in a curious confluence.  The challenge here was to grab the dynamic range between the bright reflection of sunlight to the dark shadows of the canyon. A standard image capture would not be able to properly expose for either the highlights or shadows, so I decided to do a bracketed image. I set the camera to allow it to take three successive images, each at different shutter speeds. One to properly expose the highlights, one to properly expose the shadows and one in the middle to expose the mid-tone ranges.  I chose the initial shutter speed and f-stop to smooth the water, and the camera choose the other two exposures. The post processing was done in Photoshop using a technique called channel masking or luminosity masking. This technique allows the photographer to seamlessly blend the three images together in a more controlled and realistic fashion than using stand alone HDR (high dynamic range) software that does it for you.  Although it takes hours of work, the result more closely matches the scene you would experience if you were standing there.  For more information on the technique see the side bar to the right under the helpful links heading. Another challenge capturing this scene was to avoid other hikers and photographers.  I was standing in the stream for ten or fifteen minutes waiting for the the scene to clear, when another photographer tromps up and sets her tripod directly in front of me.  She says "Oh, am I in your way?" as I stare at her with my mouth open in dis-belief.  "It's a free country," was my response.  It's true, there is no law against being inconsiderate and oblivious in this country, and people take this notion to the extreme.  It's a cultural thing.  Just don't let it get to you.   Tune out those people just like that annoying hip-hop song on the radio. Instead focus on the beauty of nature and the moment you're living it. It will not last forever.

Don't Wade Hot Creek

Hot Creek begins its life as Mammoth Creek flowing out of Twin Lakes, in California's Eastern Sierra Nevada. It makes it's way to the Hot Creek Fish Hatchery and confluences with warmer water from natural geothermal springs commonly found in the Long Valley Caldera area. It eventually flows down to become a tributary to Crowley Lake. As it travels through the Hot Creek Gorge hot springs in and near the stream bed can be found.   As recent as 2006 the geothermal activity in the Hot Creek Gorge has become increasingly unpredictable, intermittently emanating geysers.  The activity produces enough vigor to shoot scalding water as high as 6 feet as well as popping from the steam vents in the vicinity and from in creek itself.    For this reason the Forest Service has closed parts of the area due to its dangerous and unpredictable activity. They posted warning signs to deter the fishermen from wading in its dangerous and scalding water. "Don't Wade Hot Creek."

Its popularity began as a location in many Hollywood films, then continued with anglers, bird watchers, swimmers and photographers alike.  It had been several years since I last visited Hot Creek, and  I wanted to return to capture it during sunrise.   I remembered the winding creek that seemed to flow out from the surrounding mountains. Steam rising up in plumes of alkali mist. What I didn't remember was you couldn't camp with in a mile from the creek.  I scouted and found a forest service road a short distance and camped there, but had to make more of an effort. Especially the next morning. I was able to get there at just the right time for the light illuminate the peak and to skip atop the trees.  After what seemed to be a brief window, the show was over. I returned to the van and prepared my morning coffee and breakfast.   A fisherman arrived just as I had taken the shot of the sign "Don't Wade Hot Creek." I chuckled to myself, "I Waded Hot Creek."  I think he thought I was crazy.

The Moods of Mono

In late October I spent a week and a half in the Eastern Sierras.  I went for a couple of reasons. The first was to attend a Jack Graham/Guy Tal workshop. The second was to spend some time alone revisiting some of my favorite areas. Mono Lake was one of my favorite muses. It's one of those places where the light changes from minute to minute always offering a unique perspective. I returned for sunset and sunrise day after day to feel the lake's moods. Mono Lake is famous for it's tufa columns.  Made from a variety of limestone, tufas are precipitated when carbonate rich source waters emerge into alkaline soda lakes. Emanating from under water springs, tufas build up a travertine stalagmite type column.

The salts and minerals in the water combined with no natural outlet to the lake preclude fish from living there, yet has created another ecosystem entirely.  Brine shrimp are the only animals that can live in these waters, and every year serve the local bird population that feed on them. As you can see in the second image, brine or alkali flies also live along the shores, and the larvae has sustained the native Kutzadida'a people over the years.  That's what those little black dots are, here in the second image.  Throughout this trip the moon played a major role in my photography, both as a subject and a light source. If the moon was low in the sky, it would be included in the composition. If it was high in the sky is served as a large reflector, as you can see here in the first image.  This image was taken at about quarter after five at what is called South Tufa.  Sleep played a minor role in this trip, and revolved around the moon's position and it's moods. 



The third image here was made from the road on the west side of the lake. I was sitting in Lee Vining waiting for the workshop to begin when I noticed the moon rising through the trees. I quickly rushed down the hill, past the visitors center then pulled over at a wide spot on the shoulder. I got off a few shots before the moon rose too high, and out of the frame. Plus the moon is at it's largest the lower in the sky it is due to the refraction of the earth's atmosphere. Capturing the moon can be difficult if the dynamic range of the scene is too great. If it rises and it's after dark already, chances are you'll either have an exposed moon and underexposed foreground, or a bright dot in an otherwise exposed foreground. The best bet is if the moon is rising just as the sun is setting, when the scene is still lit from the glow of the atmosphere.  Here, also you can see the shadow of the earth just above the horizon, trying to catch up with the moon.  In order to provide water for the city of Los Angeles the tributaries to Mono Lake had been diverted, effectively draining the lake as the rate of evaporation had exceeded the inflow to the lake. Conservation efforts to reverse this trend succeeded in 1994 when California State Water Resources Control Board issued an order to protect Mono Lake and its tributary streams.  The water level has slowly risen to pre-1940 levels, but has slowed recently as a result of the current drought throughout the West.  Before human history water levels used to be at the top of the tufas, which is what allowed the carbonate to flow upward and stack into travertine columns.  Now you can walk on around and below the towers like some prehistoric petrified forest, opening it up for a myriad of photographic possibilities. In one shot I used two opposing light sources to light paint the columns and exposed for the stars.  I got this last shot just before the moon rose, again with some light painting.

Source: Wikipedia

Red Mountain Fog

Traditionally Kristi and I have been finding a place to hike on the morning of Thanksgiving day.  We get up early and hike until about noon, then meet with my parents for the holiday family dinner.  We decided to return to one of my favorite wild places near home, Red Mountain. Taking 180 out of town, past the Snowbowl and Nordic Centers, you pass through Kendrick Park and make your way down the hill on the other side. There is a sign pointing to a dirt (or mud) road. Depending how muddy or snowy or frozen it is, you can park near the highway, or continue a half mile to the designated parking area. Shortly before we approached the turn off we began entering a large fog bank.  From clear blue skies to dense fog in less than a mile. 


Fog is a rare occurrence around these parts, so I was excited to experience Red Mountain under these conditions.  A large cinder hill rich in iron oxide has eroded away from the center creating strange conical towers of rusty rock. I have been here before in winter and really liked the contrast of white snow against red cones.  A result of the snow melt, frozen waterfalls drip down each crevasse.  Pine and juniper trees stand frozen in hoar frost. Six inches of snow crunch under our feet as we made the mile and a half approach.  We arrived in total amazement, the sun started shining through the dissipating fog illuminating the back wall and revealing blue sky.



I shot for an hour and a half trying to catch the fleeting light.   Eventually the fog began to settle in heavily, then rise up creating a rather overcast scene. It was time to leave, and soon we drove back into warm blue skies. It had turned out to be one of those perfect holidays to look back on.  A nice hike, a loving girl friend, a walk with our dog, a photographic foray, and a fine family dinner. Among those other things, I was very thankful to have experienced a rare and fleeting moment of light. It's nice to have a day to be thankful for.

They Can't Close the Grand Canyon

While the big children in Washington are still learning how to behave in the sand box, the National Parks have been taken hostage in a spiteful battle against a national health care system. Despite what the Federal Government would have you believe, they don't own and can't close the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon's borders are shared by the Havasupai, Hualapai, and Navajo tribes, as well as the Kaibab National Forest. Those lands are still open and can be visited, though not as convenient as the Park itself.  Hiking, backpacking and camping are permitted on the Havasupai Indian reservation.  Reservations are required, but this time of year you have a good chance at getting in.  Though not recommended, you can hike down there without a reservation, pay a little more, and not be turned away. Just so long as you can find a place to put your tent. I know from experience, as I did that a few years ago.   The Hualapai has the famed, and oft criticized Grand Canyon Skywalk.  This new attraction was built with the partnership between Steve Winn and the tribe.  They installed a giant glass horseshoe walkway that cantilevers over their portion of the Grand Canyon. 
If that thing isn't your style the Kaibab National Forest maintains a large portion of the north rim.  Called the Rainbow rim you can follow forest service roads to five unique 'points.' Parissawampitts, Fence, Locust, Timp and North Timp points offer grand views of  features such as Powell Plateau, Steamboat Mountain, Tapeats Amphitheater and Great Thumb Mesas. The best part of the rainbow rim is the trail that was constructed to connect each point.  At eighteen miles long you can't possibly see the whole thing in a day, so plan your visit over at least a few days.  I've parked in the middle and biked each half in a couple of days.  Be warned, though there is no water, restrooms or any services for about 22 miles to the Kaibab Lodge. Fire Point is one of those epic sunset points that's popular and if you are really lucky you can pitch a tent in one of only two spots right there on the rim. To get to Parissawampitts view point from Hwy 67 turn right on FR 22 for 10.5 miles to FR 206. Turn left and continue on FR 206 for 3.5 miles and turn right on FR 214 and follow it for 8 miles.  Its pretty easy to figure out the rest of the view points, but if there were a fallen tree in the road and you don't have a chain saw you'd be much happier if you had a forest service map, available at most local sporting goods stores. I know by experience on that one as well.   
There is one point inside the park that can be accessed via a forest service road and a short hike, and probably one of the most iconic formations, Imperial Point.  Again, get the forest service map. The road ends at the park boundary, that's where you hike through the ponderosa pine forest, through a burn area, to the parking area of Imperial Point.  Be careful to stay away from any buzzing logs.  It's probably got a nest of Africanized honey bees.  Yes I know that from experience, too. (Run!)   If you are at the south rim and just can't find the extra days to get to the north rim (yes 5 hours) you can still get your Grand Canyon fix at the east rim.  Take Hwy 89a north out of Flagstaff, and follow the signs from Cameron to the Canyon.  Shortly before the park entrance to Desert View you can catch some unimproved roads. This area lies in the Navajo Reservation, and as a general rule, more adventurous.   I can't guarantee you'll be able to make it to the rim, but don't worry they'll be plenty of view to see.  Hopefully by the time you are reading this the jack wagons that we put in  the ivory tower will have had some sense knocked into them and end this petty bickering at the expense of their constituents.  Especially because I'll be around Yosemite at the end of the month. But I'm not going hold my breath.  For more information, and personal accounts of all the once in a lifetime vacations that have been ruined see the Arizona Daily Sun article :Park Visitors, businesses most affected by government shutdown.