The sun sets over the Columbia River, just east of Portland, OR

This photo was taken in Corbett, Oregon, from the backyard of some good friends. They live high on a cliff overlooking the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge. This panorama was taken at sunset looking west toward Portland.

I grew up in Corbett, and I always enjoy going back to visit. The town is a kind of jewel, sitting close to Portland, close to Mt. Hood, and surrounded by forest and farmland.

Every time I visit, I try to take some time to explore the area with my camera. I don’t have to wander too far to see first hand why Oregon is hailed for its natural beauty.

Please be sure to click on the image above to see a larger version.

These images can be created with any regular digital camera. The images are stitched together in post processing to create large, wide angle views. All of the photos presented here are in the 40 to 100 megapixel range, which means they can be printed very large (at least 30×90 inches). For better appreciation for the detail captured in these photos, please be sure to click on the image to see a larger view.

The sun lights stormy clouds as sets behind the eastern Sierra range, north of Bishop. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/400 sec. at f/8. Composed of 7 stitched photos, handheld.

The sun rises over Hot Creek, as the Sierra Nevada looms in the distance. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 100. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 3.2 sec. at f/16. Composed of 4 stitched photos.

The wall of the eastern Sierra rises over ten thousand feet above the Alabama Hills at dawn. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/4 sec. at f/16. Composed of 7 vertical stitched photos.

An ancient bristlecone pine crouches on a snowy slope, greeting morning's first rays of light, Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/6 sec. at f/7.1. Composed of 7 stitched photos.

A western scrub jay perches in early morning light. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/250 sec. at f/6.3

Recently I was out photographing birds when a western scrub jay landed fairly close to me on a wooden post. Even though this was not a species I was targeting that day, I took advantage of this opportunity, and slowly and quietly swung my lens around to point at the bird. He was so close that his head filled my frame.

I took several tight head shots, and decided I also wanted to capture the entire bird, as I had a great background to work with, and wanted to get as many different types of shots as possible. I used the techniques I described in my thinking digitally post, and took several horizontal slices of the bird, knowing that I could stitch them later.

A western scrub jay perches in early morning light. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/200 sec. at f/6.3

Of course I could have backed up in order to fit the jay’s entire body in the frame, but I didn’t for several reasons. First, I didn’t want to spook the bird by picking up my tripod and walking backward. In this case, the bird came to me, so I hadn’t had to stalk it. Second, being able to stitch multiple frames yields a much larger file size than a single shot, allowing for bigger prints. Finally, being so close to this bird allowed me to capture fine detail in the feathers. If I backed further away, my lens wouldn’t be able to resolve this amount of detail.

At sunrise, a cloud bank moves up out of the valley to the east of Glacier Lake, catching the first rays of sunlight, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

I emerged from my tent half an hour before dawn on the morning of the fourth day a very cold man. My breath had frozen into ice crystals in the mesh on the inside of my tent and the 25 degree night had pushed my 30 degree sleeping bag beyond its limits. Watching the alpenglow emerge on the cliffs above the lake, I warmed myself by jumping up and down behind my tripod. Just as the sun was hitting the top of the peak, a cloud bank moved up out of the valley to the east, catching the sun’s rays.

The first rays of sunlight greet a backcountry campsite at Glacier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The photo above shows our meager, no-fire campsite. Although cold, the entire area was beautiful to behold. With eager anticipation for some warmth, I watched the sun creep down the face of the cliff. The cloud bank continued to move up from the valley to the east, and a new set of much darker, ominous clouds emerged from the valley to the west. Suddenly I began to get nervous about some weather moving in, and we packed our site quickly, skipping breakfast.

Sun peaks over a cloud bank, touching the surface of Glacier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

As we were getting ready to leave, the sun finally hit the surface of the lake, generating steam rising from the frigid water.

The first rays of sunlight heat the cold waters of Glacier Lake, creating steam, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The photo above shows the shoreline silhouetted against darkening storm clouds. The rising steam is backlit by the sun. It was definitely time to leave. I felt a little better that we were packed up, because if it started pouring on us, we could at least throw a poncho over us to keep dry. Packing up camp in a downpour on the other hand, was a miserable proposition.

Snow covered cliffs tower above Glacier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

As we hiked up out of Glacier Lake on our way to Glacier pass, the clouds continued to gather. From a higher elevation, the entire expanse of the lake was visible. The photo above was stitched from five overlapping photos, hand held. When photographing a panorama, the most important thing to keep consistent between images is focus and exposure. Things like white balance can be corrected on the computer later.

The west fork of the Wallowa River drains out of Galcier Lake and winds down the valley to Frazier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Closer to the pass, we got a view of the west fork of the Wallowa River draining out of the eastern end of Glacier Lake, and continuing down the valley to Frazier Lake, which we visited the day before. This photo shows how the entire eastern side of Glacier Lake seems to float high above deep valleys on three sides. It was stitched together from nine vertical shots, all hand held. Whenever possible, I shoot panoramas in a vertical format to preserve the top and bottom of the final image. Often times, the warping of photos by the stitching algorithms can reduce the resulting photo to a thin strip. The vertical format helps to counteract the vertical image loss.

Eagle Cap towers over Mirror Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

We descended from Glacier Pass down to Moccasin Lake, and then a short distance to Mirror Lake. Originally I had planned to spend the night at Mirror Lake, but after talking to a ranger the night before, we decided to push through so our last day was not so long. She told us that there were over 60 groups camping at Mirror Lake the night before. Not wanting to hike for four days only to camp right on top of people, it was a no-brainer.

The peak of Eagle Cap is visible for many miles around, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Past Mirror Lake, we climbed the steep trail to Horton Pass, our exit point of the Lakes Basin management area. Just before the top of the pass is the cutoff trail to the summit of Eagle Cap itself – the omniscient sentry overlooking much of the Lakes Basin. The trail junction offered up-close views of the peak and surrounding area.

At Horton Pass, I thought surely we had seen the highlights of the trip, and we could more or less blast through the descent from the pass to the car. However, Eagle Cap Wilderness had one final surprise in store for us – Eagle Creek Canyon.

False hellebore fills the meadows of Eagle Creek Canyon, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

We left the crowds behind (we didn’t see anyone else until we got close to our car the following day) and started downhill, all of our climbing behind us. As we descended further from the pass, the landscape got more beautiful. False hellebore turning golden and orange contrasted with the greens of the surrounding forest.

The setting sun lights up the cliffs surrounding Eagle Creek Canyon, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Sharp peaks lined each side of the canyon, while Eagle Creek rushed ahead, gathering size and force with every tributary we passed.

Painted cliffs descend to a mixture of fir and pine along East Eagle Creek, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Once again, fast moving clouds created an ever-changing light show on the eastern cliffs. We hiked until the sun set behind the western ridge overlooking the canyon. With several hours of daylight left, we had plenty of time to find a picturesque camp site shaded by a ring of trees. Nearby, Eagle Creek could be heard gurgling away.

Wildflowers adorn the meadows of Eagle Creek Canyon, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The photo above was just outside of the tree ring surrounding our camp site. Wildflowers were everywhere, creating a variegated feast for the eyes. This canyon was as scenic (if not more so) than the Imnaha River Valley we visited earlier in the trip. It was well worth the additional effort of a longer drive and more elevation gain to visit these two rivers, offering more spectacular sights and more solitude than the popular Lakes Basin area.

Wildflowers line the trail through Eagle Creek Canyon, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The next morning, we were up early and quickly broke camp and got on the trail. While we were anxious to get back to the car (and start our 7 hour drive!) we still lingered here and there to enjoy our surroundings. The beauty and variety of the scenery cemented my decision to come back to this part of Oregon for future trips. There is so much to explore here.

False hellebore thrives along the banks of the Imnaha River with Jackson Peak looming above, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Our third day on the trail started in one of the most beautiful valleys I have ever seen. The closer we hiked to Hawkins Pass and the headwaters of the Imnaha River, the more spectacular the scenery became. The trail from our river-side camp site all the way to the pass gave us varied views of Jackson Peak to the west.

Looking south down the Imnaha Valley, one can see Jackson Peak and the mountains beyond, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The bright yellows and oranges of the sun-baked meadows gave way to light and dark bands of green, with gray cliffs towering above. Just below Jackson Peak was a tree-less avalanche field, adding variety to the features of the landscape. Sunlight played through the fast-moving clouds, drawing shadows across the scene. Every moment brought a new mood and a changing picture.

Near its headwaters, the Imnaha River becomes a waterfall, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Just when I thought we had seen all this valley had to offer, the land rose abruptly, turning the gentle Imnaha River into a beautiful waterfall. A short hike from the trail to the bottom of the falls was well worth the effort.

The headwaters of the Imnaha River start in a large, glacier-carved bowl, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

As the trail climbed in elevation, the valley opened up into a large bowl. Glacial snow melt cascaded down the sheer cliffs in tiny trickles, gathering the bowl to form the headwaters of the Imnaha. Darker gray and brown rock was banded throughout the limestone, forming a colorful tapestry of geological history. In this high mountain air, it was hard to imagine that this limestone was formed from the crushed bones of ancient sea creatures and coral. I tried to picture looking out upon vast coral reefs teaming with fish.

A backpacker pauses to admire the impressive view of Jackson Peak and the Imnaha River Valley, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The trail continued upward toward Hawkins pass, switch-backing up a steep slope. This offered us expansive views of the valley we had hiked up that morning. Here is my brother once again volunteering to be my backcountry adventure model. I’d like to think he enjoyed the view as much as I enjoyed capturing him in it. This image is truly a kaleidoscope of nature, with oranges, yellows, many shades of green, all fading into the light blue of the distant mountains and sky.

Two backpackers descend the north side of Hawkins Pass. Eagle Cap can be seen peeking over the ridge, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

After a quick break at the top of Hawkins pass, we were ready to descend into the popular Lakes Basin. Here we met our first people of the trip – an indication that we were entering a very popular area. In fact, from this point on, the trail got much busier (that is until we left the Lakes Basin area the following day!) The view from the pass was mostly rocky steep talus slopes. In the photo above, the wilderness’ namesake, Eagle Cap, can be seen peeking over the horizon, in the center-left.

White limestone cliffs tower above Frazier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

The trail dropped to Frazier Lake, a popular spot to stop for lunch and a quick dip in the water. Once again, white limestone cliffs made an appearance. Here, a trail splits off to Wallowa Lake, following the west fork of the Wallowa River, but we turned left and started climbing again. After a short climb up a narrow valley, we arrived at Glacier Lake, our destination for the night.

Surrounded on two sides by glacier covered cliffs, the water of Glacier Lake turns turquoise in the setting sun, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

Due to their overuse, at all lakes in the Lakes Basin area, it is against regulations to have a campfire. I don’t know why, but when I’m in these regulated areas, mother nature seems to spite me with some very cold nights. As the sun set over the horizon and the wind picked up, I knew we’d be in for a doozy. Staring across the lake at the glaciers clinging to the slopes of the cliff face, I could see where this lake got its name. In fact, this lake is only ice free for two months of the year. After that long night on the lake, I wasn’t surprised a bit.

To see more, be sure to check out the third part conclusion of this trip.

Snow-capped Wizard Island sits in the deep blue waters of Crater Lake

Last month my wife and I got a chance to visit Crater Lake National Park in southern Oregon. I had been several times before, but never armed with the digital equipment of today. Although I knew there would still be snow in July, I was surprised at how much was still there.

Even in July, snow covers the rim of Crater Lake. Formed in the caldera of an extinct volcano, it is the deepest lake in the United States. This depth accounts for the rich blue color of the water.

Snow was several feet deep in the forest, and drifts up to 10 feet deep still had the eastern rim road closed for the foreseeable future. In fact, it even snowed on us while we were there – something I was certainly not expecting in July. Thankfully I have a sensible wife who had booked us into a cabin – it saved us from camping in the mud between the snow drifts that covered the camp ground! And the snow really does add to the scenery.

The cinder cone of Wizard Island sits just off the rim of Crater Lake.

At night, the temperature dropped below freezing, and the wind picked up. While most sane people were in the lodge enjoying an after dinner drink around the fire, I was standing at the rim freezing while waiting for the sun to set. Luckily I got some nice colors that made the temporary discomfort worthwhile.

The orange hues of sunset light the overcast sky over Wizard Island, Crater Lake National Park, Oregon

Crater Lake is most famous for its amazingly deep blue color. This color comes from the clarity of the water (the lake water comes only from rain and snow melt) and depth of the lake (over 1900 feet deep). Blue is the last color of the spectrum to be absorbed as light passes through water. It is this intense blue that is reflected up from the depths of the lake. In fact, Crater Lake is the deepest lake in the United States and one of the clearest in the entire world.

Mount Mazama exploded nearly 8,000 years ago, creating an eruption 100 times larger than Mount St. Helens in 1980. The mountain's summit collapsed, forming a caldera 6 miles in diameter. Over time, rain water and snow melt filled the chasm, creating one of the 10 deepest lakes in the world.

It was a great trip, and inspired us to go back for some hiking when there is less snow. It might also be fun to do a multi-day cross-country ski trip around the rim. In spite of the weather (or maybe because of it), it was a pleasure to see Oregon’s only National Park. See the entire Crater Lake National Park gallery.

The day was overcast and drizzly – perfect for forest photography. The trail out to the falls meandered through a coastal redwood forest, with massive trees on either side of the trail.

The trail winds between massive redwood trees

Eventually the trail meets up with Berry Creek, which ultimately makes several drops on its way to the Pacific Ocean, creating a series of waterfalls, each with their own unique characteristics. The waterfall below is Golden Cascade, which is actually made up of two sections – upper and lower cascade. The upper cascade seemed to glow a dull orange in the soft filtered light of the forest.

The golden-orange color of upper golden cascade derives its name from the brown algae living on the sandstone

At the very bottom of the cascade was a small pool surrounded by a mud bank and the root system of a fallen giant. Water poured over the bark of a long-dead log. Because the mud bank surrounded the pool on all sides, in order to get this shot, I set up my tripod sideways, with the legs sticking into the soft bank behind me. I held the tripod against the slope so that the pressure kept if from moving. From this tight angle, my widest lens couldn’t cover the entire falls. In order to compose the picture, I used a panoramic stitching technique to combine five total vertical photos.

Green surrounds the lowest section of Golden Cascade along the Berry Creek Falls trail, Big Basin Redwoods State Park

Finally we came to Berry Creek Falls, the tallest (and most picturesque) waterfall along the loop. There is a nice observation deck about halfway up the falls that offers the hiker a good view.

Picturesque Berry Creek Falls plunges 40 feet, Big Basin Redwoods State Park

After this point the trail ascends up the other side of the ravine from the falls. There is a point at a bend in the trail that offers a great view of the falls through the forest. The shot below was another panoramic composite of about 7 photos. Once stitched together, it created a TIFF file of over 1 GB (an 81 megapixel image), which allowed me to make a 20 x 60 inch print.

Berry Creek Falls can be seen through the lush redwood forest, Big Basin Redwoods State Park

Finally, the trail connected up to Waddell Creek and followed it up-river. After witnessing the waterfalls, this creek bed was no less scenic. Lush green moss and ferns blanketed the rocks and soil along the creek as the trail wound back up the mountain.

Waddell Creek flows through a green forest along the Berry Creek Falls trail, Big Basin Redwoods State Park

As we climbed away from the creek, a soft rain came down and cooled us on our final ascent. Overall, it was a perfect time of year and a perfect day on which to experience the park. The weather kept most hikers away, giving us long stretches of this normally busy trail to ourselves.

A trio of duckling siblings swims quickly across open water to find a protected spot

New life is appearing all over the Bay Area as the winter rains are finally (reluctantly) subsiding. Birds are nesting, flowers are blooming, and we’ll likely get to enjoy the lush green of spring a little longer than normal this year. As captured in the image above, I’ve spent a few days following one of the first mallard families of the spring. Watching mom and dad protect their young hatch-lings from all the dangers of the world (including other ducks), has been a joy to watch. Hopefully I will follow up with some more photos in the coming weeks.

A Mallard watches over his young duckling as he looks for a hiding place amongst the reeds

Below is one of the first lupine blooms of the spring in Edgewood Park and Preserve in San Mateo County. This lupine was photographed at first light on an eastern facing slope.

A purple lupine blooms in early spring, Edgewood Park, San Mateo County, California

San Francisco floats above a low fog bank over the bay.

This week’s photo is a slight departure from the usual natural history themed shot. This panorama of San Francisco was taken from the Marin Headlands with a 400mm telephoto lens. Shots were taken vertically and stitched together, creating an image in excess of 70 megapixels. A low fog had settled over the bay, hiding the water and giving the city the look of floating, as it so often has.

This image worked well as a black and white, as the tonality of the fog below the city and the sky above matched well, balancing the top and bottom of the image. The high contrast of the buildings partnered with the natural feathering provided by the fog is reminiscent of a pencil sketch.

Check out the Flash gallery below, or click the Panoramas link below that to jump straight to the gallery page on my web site.

Panoramas – Images by Hank Christensen