An ancient bristlecone pine reflects the last rays of daylight, White Mountains, CA
On my recent trip to the eastern Sierra to photograph the fall colors, I visited the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in the White Mountains, part of the Inyo National Forest. I had done some reading about the area from books such as David Muench’s classic Timberline Ancients (out of print), and several of Galen Rowell’s insightful essays from Vision and Inner Game of Outdoor Photography. But actually being there and walking among these trees was a spiritual experience, and one I will not soon forget.
We were blessed with a recent snow storm that blanketed the crest of the White Mountains – not enough to close the road, and just enough to provide a clean contrast to the rough, twisted texture of the bristlecone. We were working an exposed western-facing slope, and after taking a few establishing shots, I climbed to the top of the hill. I quickly remembered that I was at 11,500 feet in elevation, as I was out of breath after only a few steps! My goal in the photo above was to capture the vibrant colors of sunset reflected in the wood of the bristlecone, while also getting the colors in the opposite horizon, as well as the earth shadow as it crept across the eastern foothills and Nevada desert beyond. The warm pastels in the wood are continued in the sunset colors of the sky above.
All lengths of lens work here, depending on your personal style and vision – whether it is to shoot a distant mountain top grove with a telephoto, or to crawl up inside the gnarled spiral of a branch with a fish-eye. The challenge in shooting these trees is to try to decide what to include and what to leave out of the frame. One question I kept coming back to that helped me to focus was, “What is the main point of this photo?” If my answer was “the texture of this branch,” then why include the roots of the tree? If my answer was “to show the desolate environment in which these trees live,” then I knew to shoot wide and and treat an entire group of trees as the main subject.
Below are a few more photos I took while exploring the bristlecone forest.
A bristlecone log frames an upright tree, both of which have lived for thousands of years, White Mountains, CAA bristlecone pine grows from a desolate, snowy mountainside, White Mountains, CAFresh snows blankets the slopes of the White Mountains, framing the ancient bristlecone pines that live there
This is the conclusion of a recent backpacking trip to Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness. If you missed them, check out the first part here and the second part here.
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.
This is a continuation of a recent backpacking trip to Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness. If you missed it, check out the first part of the Eagle Cap journey 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.
Mt. Lassen is reflected in Lake Helen after a morning snow shower, Lassen National Park, California
This week’s shot was taken on my way out of Lassen Volcanic National Park after a failed attempt at a solo backpacking trip. After trying to wait out the rain in the morning, I finally gave up and headed back home after my long drive only the night before. The rain was strong, and the dark clouds foreshadowed the wicked thunderstorm to come.
However, just as I was passing Lake Helen on the main road through the park, the rain stopped and I decided to take advantage of this brief respite. I parked my car by the lake and jumped out with my gear, hoping to make a few quick exposures before the storm started in again. I had the lake to myself, and I didn’t see a single car pass on the road while I was shooting. Although I knew the temperature had dropped the night before, I was surprised to see fresh snow on the top of the mountain. That was my second fresh snow of the summer, the first being at Crater Lake in July.
This shot is actually a combination to two images – a technique I’ve been using successfully for a couple of years. Traditional photographic technique would have required I use a graduated neutral density filter, in order to darken the exposure of the sky so as not to blow it out when I exposed for the foreground. Shooting digitally from a tripod allows me to create this effect later on the computer using two exposures instead of one. This saves the weight of the extra filters out in the field, and frees me up aesthetically.
First, I expose for the foreground light, and capture the frame as if the entire scene was lit evenly. This will result in an image where the sky (and in this case mountain top) is completely blown out and appears white in the photograph. Next (without moving the camera or tripod), I expose for the sky, rendering the foreground very dark, if not black. I later combine both images as separate layers of the same file in Photoshop, using layer masking and the gradient tool to blend them together, getting the best exposure for the sky and the foreground.
Soon after I got out of my car, it started raining again, and I knew it was time to leave. I’m glad I got this opportunity to shoot this area during a break in the storm – the rain could have easily let up somewhere else (or not at all), and I would have driven out of the park without another shot.
