A snowy plover just coming into breeding plumage rests in the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1250 sec. at f/8

When I was in Moss Landing recently, I knew it would be a good opportunity to photograph snowy plovers in the sand, because they nest along the beach at the mouth of the harbor. Snowy plovers nest right in the open sand, which is why their nesting grounds are frequently protected along the California coast. It was still a little too early to see established nest sites, but they should be scoping some out.

After some searching, I found a few of them sitting down in the sand. They were just starting to come into breeding plumage. Not wanting to disturb them, I spend a good ten minutes creeping slowly closer, until I could create frame-filling shots like the one above. My tripod legs were fully splayed out in order to get the lens closer to the ground. I was pretty happy with my position and the fact that I had gotten as close as I needed to without disrupting the birds.

After making some shots, I looked up and saw a surfer emerge from the water a little ways up the beach. I thought he would continue walking toward the road, but then he saw me and starting walking in my direction. Unbelievably, he walked directly toward me fully in my lens’s line of sight. And he didn’t stop until he was standing next to me looking down at my prone form! Needless to see, the birds scattered as he tromped through their would-be nesting area. I was just staring at him (probably with a dropped jaw), incredulous that he would have so little common sense or self awareness.

“Getting some good photographs?” he asked.

“Well, I was,” I relied wryly. As the acclaimed bird photographer Art Morris is fond of saying, you gotta love it!

The scattered plovers were not to be refound, and I had to settle for the photos I already had. However, I spent some more time creeping up on some sanderlings and western sandpipers who were busy poking through shells and seaweed that had been washed up on the beach. These photos can be seen below.

I quick word to the non-photographers out there. If you are in a remote area and see someone concentrating on something with their camera, please please please don’t just walk up to them and interrupt without understanding what they’re photographing. This is especially important with wildlife that you can spook. The photographers of the world thank you.

A sanderling calls out as it walks along the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/2000 sec. at f/8

A lone sanderling sleeps on a smooth beach, framed by a distant ocean. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1600 sec. at f/8

A western sandpiper calls out as it walks along the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1000 sec. at f/8

A western sandpiper rests in the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/800 sec. at f/8

A sea otter floats through the water, taking a break. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/500 sec. at f/8

Recently I spent a morning photographing the sea life in Moss Landing, California. The harbor at Moss Landing boasts a great variety of sea birds and mammals, and is favorite spot for many sea otters. I woke early and arrived at the harbor at dawn, hoping to catch some of the wildlife in early morning light. Most of the usual suspects were there, including the common loon.

A common loon swims alone through deep water. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 800. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1600 sec. at f/7.1

Also seen cruising around the harbor, occasionally diving for food were several surf scoters. A male, resplendent with his colorful beak came close, probably to see if I was one of those fishermen who might have some bait to spare.

A male surf scoter swims through open water. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/1000 sec. at f/7.1

And then of course, there were the sea otters, probably the most popular attraction at the harbor. I saw about twenty to thirty of them all floating together, either diving and eating, playfully wresting each other in the water, or just floating on their backs, taking a bit of a nap. One otter in particular had an entertaining way of grooming himself. First, he would lick one paw while rubbing the back of his head with his other paw. Then he’d switch paws, slowly cleaning the back and sides of his head.

First licking one paw, and then the other, a sea otter takes turns massaging his head with each paw. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/800 sec. at f/8

After repeating this behavior for several minutes, it was time for the face massage. Opening his mouth, he’d lightly rub his cheeks in small circles. After a while, he really got into what he was doing, opening and closing his mouth and sticking out his tongue occasionally. Abruptly he stopped, and went back to licking his paws and cleaning his head.

A sea otter rubs its face on each side of its mouth, giving itself a gentle massage. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/1600 sec. at f/8

Sea lions and harbor seals were also in attendance at the harbor. Most of the sea lions were crowded on a pier waiting for fishing boats to return and share their left-overs. Unfortunately, the time of day did not cooperate with the only angle of approach I had, and all of my photos were severely back lit. The harbor seals however were busy traveling to and fro, so I had better opportunities with them.

A harbor seal swims just under the surface of the water, head just peeking out. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering -1/3: 1/800 sec. at f/8

As the morning stretched on, more tourists arrived and the harbor started to get crowded. I was happy to have woken early and arrived at dawn, giving me plenty of time in relative solitude with the animals. Pretty soon it was time to leave. The sun was high overhead, most of the wildlife had scattered, and the otters had settled in for a nice long lazy day in the waves.

With arms folded behind its head a floating sea otter lets out a huge yawn. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1000 sec. at f/8

Wind and water sculpted sandstone creates an alien landscape along the headlands of Salt Point State Park, California

Last week I spent a few days at Salt Point State Park, along the California coast just north of Jenner. The state park encompasses over six miles of shoreline, as well as miles of interior trails through coastal forest. This portion of the coast is one of the most dynamic in the state, made so by acres of sandstone, shaped over time by the strong waves and stronger wind, creating an alien landscape of stone and water.

Although the sky was clear and the sun was out, the temperature never topped 60 degrees. Windy conditions persuaded most people to stay away, entrusting the entire length of coastline to me alone. By early evening, the wind really picked up with gusts between 30 – 40 mph. I had a hard enough time just staying on my feet much less keeping my tripod steady. The wind was only outdone by the strength of the massive waves breaking against the rocky shore.

Waves crash against sandstone headlands, Salt Point State Park, California

A wave blasts a sandstone point as the ocean's energy turns water into a milky froth, Salt Point State Park, California

In the mornings, the wind from the night before had subsided, but the ten to fifteen foot waves were no less fierce.

Huge waves crash over offshore sea stacks, Salt Point State Park, California

The variety of the landscape was impressive. I found myself walking through fields of recently bloomed wildflowers, back-dropped by sheer cliffs plunging to an azure ocean. At low tide, pools appeared among newly uncovered rock, offering a glimpse into the lives of the sea dwellers who live there.

Wildflowers adorn the coastline of Salt Point State Park

Tidepools adorn sculpted sandstone headlands, Salt Point State Park, California

The park was home to a variety of wildlife, from song and shore birds to seals, lizards, and an abundance of healthy looking deer. Ultimately it was a brief few days, but a welcome respite from the bustle of the Bay Area. There was much more to see at Salt Point than time allowed, and I know I’ll be going back there in the future.

A harbor seal clings to an offshore rock as waves splash around it, Salt Point State Park, California

A white-crowned sparrow perches in morning light, Salt Point State Park, California

A white-crowned sparrow forages through fields of wildflowers, Salt Point State Park, California

The sun sets over the water from a view point in Deception Pass State Park, Whidbey Island, Washington

At the northern tip of Whidbey Island sits Deception Pass. Whidbey Island sits just off the coast of Washington State, one of several islands comprising Island County. In the late 1800′s the Deception Pass area was used for smuggling Chinese immigrants into Washington.

I had hoped to catch a nice sunset over the open water to the east of Deception Pass, however, I was met with dense cloud cover about 30 minutes before sunset. Just as the sun hit the horizon, the clouds started to break up, allowing a little of the sunset’s dramatic light to escape. Silhouetted fir trees and the shoreline help to frame the scene.

Pescadero has three separate parking areas off of Highway 1. For photography, my favorite is the middle one because of the interesting rock formations just off the coast. For wide sandy beaches, either the northern or southern lots would be the best bet.

The following two images were taken of the surf swirling around some off-shore rock formations. Because of the very low ambient light, a long exposure was needed, which gives the water that misty smoke look.

Ambient light casts the scene in shades of blue, Pescadero State Beach, California

The movement of the tidal flow is captured by a long exposure in pre-dawn light along the California coast

At this time of the morning, the sun hadn’t yet risen above the horizon, but the eastern sky was reflecting some vibrant oranges and yellows. The image below was taken facing east, in the opposite direction of the previous two photos.

Morning light crests the horizon and is reflected in a shallow tidal estuary, Pescadero State Beach, California

Once the sun had peaked the horizon, the western sky finally was lit up in the reds and oranges of sunrise. The following image was taken just after sunrise, looking west. The light was dim enough to still require a long exposure (though not as long as the first two images), but now the sky and water were a completely different color.

A high tide moves in over off shore rocks at dawn, Pescadero State Beach, California

And looking south, the morning light was even more spectacular.

Pastel oranges and aquas emerge at sunrise, Pescadero State Beach, California

About 20 minutes after sunrise, the entire landscape was well lit. The truly special light of “magic hour” had gone, but with the sun still so low on the horizon, everything was bathed in soft warm light, with no harsh shadows. The following images was one of the last I took before I packed up my gear and headed home.

Morning light touches the orange sandstone cliffs at Pescadero State Beach, California

Early morning light peeks around the cliff, lighting the coastal vegetation with a soft glow

Winter and early spring is a great time to shoot sunrise out at the coast – there are fewer mornings of the dense fog common in the summer. It can be quite frustrating to get out of bed 1 to 1 1/2 hours before sunrise (it is best to be in place at least 30 minutes before sunrise), drive out to the coast, only to find a thick marine layer obscuring your view and all of the good light. However, those special mornings when everything seems to click make it all worth the effort.

Realistically, many people only shoot sunsets, and usually only serendipitously. It can be a great way to capture being in a special place at a special time. The next time you see a beautiful sunset, take a few moments to point your lens at your surroundings, especially if the western horizon is clear of clouds. Sometimes the most glorious (reflected) light will be directly behind you.

The moon sets behind off-shore fog, cast in a purple hue from the rising sun

On a recent morning out at the coast, I was lucky enough to have the conditions of a clear sky, a full moon, and a moonset close to the moment of sunrise. My goal had been to use my longest telephoto lens to zoom in on the moon and capture it setting over the horizon, or behind on offshore rock formation. By using my long lens, the moon would have appeared huge.

However, as soon as I got to my desired location (in the dark of course), I saw that the morning also brought with it the typical fog bank looming just off shore. Once the moon set behind this layer of cloud, it would be gone – long before ever reaching the horizon.

I now had to quickly decide what kind of image this new challenge would allow me. With the rising sun behind me, I was sure to get some interesting colors off of the fog. The telephoto lens would no longer work for this composure because with no strong elements (only moon and fog), the photo might lack interest. I looked around and saw and old fence that could serve well as a silhouetted foreground. I set up my tripod with my 24-70mm zoom just in time to capture the moon before it disappeared behind the fog.

A harbor seal glances up after a rising tide awakens him from his slumber

I took this photo last week in Moss Beach, just north of Half Moon Bay. At low tide, harbor seals can sometimes be seen lounging on the exposed rocks, far away from the beach. However, I was here at dawn, and it was still about an hour away from high tide. I knew the rocks would be covered, and I was hoping I might see some along the beach. Unfortunately, the tide was in much further than I thought it would, leaving only about 20 feet between the sea cliff and the pounding surf.

Not seeing any seals, I decided to focus instead on landscapes. I set up my tripod at the base on the path going down to the beach. As I was setting up a shot, far in the distance down the beach I saw movement. This had to be the seals. I re-evaluated the tide situation, and figured if I gave myself a strict time limit, I should be able to make it down the beach and back before the tide rose to the bottom of the cliff (kids don’t try this at home). Not wanting to get stranded against a cliff and sucked out to sea, I gave myself 10 minutes to get a shot and get out.

I preset the camera controls and got my long lens ready, then did my fastest “stealth” walk I could muster. As I got closer, I saw there was one seal left on the beach, the others having gone into the ocean (I believe this was the movement I had seen when I was down the beach). He appeared fast asleep. Just then, a large wave came in and broke just below him, sending water underneath him, and waking him up. He only looked up once, but I was ready. I got the shot, and knew it was time to get out of there.

Although I did not have my telephoto lens, using stalking techniques, I was able to get close enough with my wide angle to capture this egret and some habitat

The photo above was taken along 17-mile drive near Carmel, California. My wife and I were out for the day with nothing in mind – just being touristy. I had my SLR and a wide/mid range zoom with me – a decent walking around lens that could work for landscapes if needed. As we were driving along the coast, we saw this great egret very close to the road in beautiful light. Immediately I cursed myself for not bringing a longer lens, but I figured I’d try to see what I could do with what I had with me. We drove past the bird and I got out and slowly stalked back along the road toward it, trying to get as close as possible. Luckily the traffic was light this early in the morning. Obviously, I wouldn’t come away with a head portrait, but maybe I could get a decent habitat shot.

I slowly crept forward, hoping to intercept the bird if it kept moving in the same direction. Every few steps I’d stop and stand still, hoping the egret would not get spooked and fly off. Ultimately it payed off – the egret ended up walking very close to my position. I fired off a few shots of the bird with the ocean in the background. Through careful stalking technique, and by not giving up because I didn’t have the “perfect” equipment with me, I was able to capture one of my favorite shots of the trip.

This panorama of Mt. Lassen was composed of 26 separate shots using a long telephoto lens

Recently I was up at Lassen Volcanic National Park and I decided to take a walk around Summit Lake, hoping to get some shots of some forest birds. As a result, I had only my long telephoto with me (not a great walking around lens, as the lens alone weighs 3 pounds!) As I came around to the side of the lake furthest from Mt. Lassen, I found myself in almost the exact opposite situation as with the great egret shot above. I had a long telephoto, but I really needed a wide angle lens to capture the mountain, trees and lake.

At first I tried several compositions with my lens, but it was no good – only a small portion of the mountain was in frame at one time. Then an idea hit me – by combining many zoomed-in photos of the mountain and the surrounding scenery, I could combine them into a single panorama, mimicking the angle of view of a wide angle lens. I had shot panos before, but I was still too close in for my regular panning left to right method. However, if I created several rows of images, and I used a steady hand, it might work. I metered off the sky, set manual exposure and focus, and then spot metered several different areas of my scene to make sure I would stay within the dynamic range possible with the camera.

Starting at the upper left area of the scene I wanted to capture, I started taking photos (hand held), overlapping each by about 30%. Once I got to about the same distance from the mountain on the right that I started with on the left, I moved the composition back to the left, but slightly lower than my previous row of photos. The result was two rows of 13 photos each, creating a single panorama of 26 photos, and a 140 megapixel image. Thanks to Photoshop’s fantastic Photomerge technology, creating the final image was a snap (though my machine took a little time to crunch through the processing).

If I had planned for a panorama of the mountain from the offset, I would have used a much wider angle (and a tripod). However, I was quite happy with what could be done in a pinch with a little improvising.

With landscape photography, if you don’t pre-visualize a photo that you want to create, you’ll end up driving around all day looking out the window of your car until you happen to get lucky – being in the right place at the right time. This can work well for you, especially if you have unlimited money for gas and many years to spend driving around! Let’s put this into practice. Let’s say I want to capture a shot of the sun reflecting across the ocean. I live in California, so that means sunset. Looking at a calendar will give me the exact time to be there. Now I have my time, but what about place? Do I want cliffs dropping into the ocean with the sun lighting them? Do I want a wide beach with waves? Do I want the smooth water of a bay or inlet? Do I want strong foreground elements like smooth boulders or footprints in sand, or jagged rocks jutting out of the sea? First I answer these questions, and then do some research. Obviously the internet is a great tool for finding reference shots of specific places, but topographical maps or applications like Google Earth can help immensely.

Here is a shot in which pre-visualizing the photograph that I wanted played an essential role in the success of the photo. It was a dark, overcast, winter day and the wind had picked up. Definitely the kind of day that you cozy up by the fire with a good book. I wanted to create a photograph to capture how I was feeling – something moody, black and white, and dramatic. Kerry and I decided to head to the coast and enjoy the cold and solitude. Half way into our walk I saw a subject that perfectly communicated what I was feeling – a bent over lonely tree on a sea cliff, struggling against the wind.

Tree and sea cliff silhouette, Half Moon Bay, California

I knew when I took the picture that I was only part of the way to my imagined image. The rest would come in post-processing by converting to black and white, adjusting the levels to really silhouette the tree, and burning the edges of the photo to accentuate the drama of the incoming storm. The result conveyed everything I thought about before I left home. Sometimes it is great fun to head out with a camera and no expectations of what I will find – often times I am happily surprised. But for anyone intent on improving their photographic skill and taking a large number of successful photos, pre-visualization is an important component.