Yosemite Cloudscapes

Clouds build over the northern mountains of Yosemite National Park. In the summer, afternoon thunder storms are common, often lasting less than an hour.
Clouds build over the northern mountains of Yosemite National Park. In the summer, afternoon thunder storms are common, often lasting less than an hour.

Recently I made a short overnight backpacking trip to the Ten Lakes region of Yosemite National Park. The trail to Ten Lakes starts at Highway 120 and heads north, into the Yosemite high country. Unfortunately, the sunrise and sunset weather conditions were not optimal for my particular location. With a large cliff to the west of my camp site, I was more or less blocked from the setting sun. Sunrise came with blue bird skies – definitely not what a landscape photographer is hoping for!

However, some of the best atmospheric drama came from the typical afternoon cloud buildup over the high peaks. As my group reached Ten Lakes Pass, we were greeted with a large cumulus buildup, and distant showers, providing a dramatic topper to a never ending mountain range to the north.

There was such detail in the cloud textures that I began thinking instantly of Ansel Adams, and the magnificent work he created on similar afternoons in the high country. I began thinking in black and white, centering my composition on the clouds, and using the mountains as nothing more than to give the photo a sense of place. The stark blue sky above the clouds was turned black by applying a strong orange filter (in post processing of course!), which rendered the isolated cloud bursts below the clouds in lighter grays.

Storm clouds are bottom lit from the setting sun
Storm clouds are bottom lit from the setting sun

That evening, I watched the sun settle with bland ambivalence behind the ridge line to the west. It was not quite yet true sunset, but my world was thrust into shadow. Dark, colorless clouds spotted the sky, but I couldn’t tell if the western horizon was free of cloud cover or not. Just as I was about to give up and pack the camera, the bottom of the clouds lit up in a surreal magenta. With nothing to anchor the shot, I began creating cloud abstracts, loving the way the sun colored the bottoms of the clouds, leaving the upper clouds dark and mysterious.

Although I took many other landscapes on the trip, nothing spoke to me like these two cloud images. I was satisfied returning with these two images and happy memories of being out in the wilderness.

Ghost Trees

White aspen grow in the row in front of a forest of fir trees, Grand Teton National Park
White aspen grow in the row in front of a forest of fir trees, Grand Teton National Park

On my recent trip to Wyoming, I spent quite a bit of time photographing stands of aspen. In one particular grove, there was a nice mix of fir with the aspen. One of the guys I was with found this line of leave-less trees in front of a dark backdrop of thick fir trees. As soon as I saw it, I starting thinking in black and white. I really liked the way trees seemed to flatten out in front of the firs. This was definitely not a fall color subject, but something almost morose or Gothic.

White aspen grow in the row in front of a forest of fir trees, Grand Teton National Park
White aspen grow in the row in front of a forest of fir trees, Grand Teton National Park

I began by processing this photo in color, but realized that my first instincts were correct. This needed a black and white treatment! One of the wonders of digital conversion to black and white is the ability to set luminance settings per color. This flexibility allowed me to drop just the greens close to black, which created an even backdrop from which the white bark of the trees could pop. It’s like using a magic filter with black and white film. Instead of picking a filter color that would lighten one color and darken its opposite color (for example, a red filter would darken a blue sky), I get to pick and choose in post processing which colors I want light and which I want dark.

What do you think? Which do you like better and why?

Mesquite Dunes, Death Valley National Park

Mountains rise beyond the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park
The Mesquite Dunes stretch across the valley just north of Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley National Park
The Mesquite Dunes stretch across the valley just north of Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley National Park

I just spent a week in Death Valley National Park attending a workshop with landscape photographer Jack Dykinga. It was an amazing week catching up with old friends, doing a ton of field work, and trying to soak in Jack’s incredible talent whenever possible. One of my favorite places to shoot was the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, just north of Stovepipe Wells.

Wind and weather carve the Mesquite Dunes into endless shapes and textures, Death Valley National Park
Wind and weather carve the Mesquite Dunes into endless shapes and textures, Death Valley National Park

The dunes provided an amazing array of shapes and pattern with which to craft photographs. It was a place that really clicked for me, and it was a joy to shoot. An hour or two before sunset, the sun was still high enough to provide strong shadows and side lighting.

Death Valley's Mesquite Dunes are a study of form and lines
Death Valley’s Mesquite Dunes are a study of form and lines

At this time of the day, I really wanted to capture strong contrast which let the eye see the huge variety of patterns in the sand.

Visitors to Stovepipe Wells are treated to a view of wind carved sand dunes across Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park
Visitors to Stovepipe Wells are treated to a view of wind carved sand dunes across Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park

As we got closer to sunset, the dunes and mountains to the east began to reflect that sweet magic hour light. Using a longer lens to stack the dunes against the mountains helps to give the viewer a sense of place.

Mountains rise beyond the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park
Mountains rise beyond the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park

My favorite time of day to shoot however, was after the sun had set. The light across the dunes evened out, filling in the shadows and giving the dune contours a milky softness.

As the sun sets, the soft light give the sand dunes a buttery feel, Death Valley National Park
As the sun sets, the soft light give the sand dunes a buttery feel, Death Valley National Park

Black and white photos still worked well in this light. Instead of cranking up the contrast to show those sharp lines, the key here was to keep it soft and lower contrast. I tried to find compositions that allowed the eye to move easily up into the frame, flowing through the dunes.

Soft light across the dunes adds a milky texture to the wind carved lines, Death Valley National Park
Soft light across the dunes adds a milky texture to the wind carved lines, Death Valley National Park

As the valley settled into shadow, the sand was cast in a cool blue light.

In the moments after sunset, the light softens to accentuate the subtle curves of the sand dunes, Death Valley National Park
In the moments after sunset, the light softens to accentuate the subtle curves of the sand dunes, Death Valley National Park

As I had never spent much time photographing sand dunes before, I was thrilled with the experience. It is definitely a subject that offers endless variety and continual learning. These are my favorite kinds of photographic subjects – challenging and varied, forcing me to adapt and grow.

If you are serious about your photography and want to learn from one of the masters, I highly recommend putting Jack on your short list of workshop instructors.

Crater Lake Sunset, Eagle Cap Wilderness (Photo of the week)

The setting sun highlights an outcropping on rock, jutting into the still waters of Crater Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon.
The setting sun highlights an outcropping on rock, jutting into the still waters of Crater Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon.

This week’s photo was taken during a recent backpacking trip into Eagle Cap Wilderness in northeastern Oregon. This was our first night, and the end of a long day of driving and a steep uphill climb of 3000 feet. Even before I pressed the shutter release, I knew I wanted to convert this image to black and white. A small rock peninsula was jutting out into the lake from the opposite shore, and I wanted to accentuate the extreme contrast between the brightly lit rocks and the shadowed forest beyond.

As expected, we had the lake to ourselves. Unlike the famous Oregon counterpart of the same name, this “Crater Lake” in the Eagle Cap Wilderness is small, and is not considered a destination unto itself, but a stopping point as the hiker gets deeper into the wilderness. In fact, this lake is not formed in a crater at all, but a dimple in the landscape carved by glaciers of the last ice age. As this lake is fed by snow melt, its water is crystal clear. Although small, this lake definitely is beautiful, which can be at least some comfort on very cold nights.

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen