On my way through the Columbia River Gorge last month, I was passing some of the new wind farms in eastern Oregon and decided to get a few shots. The sun was setting and the lighting was very flattering for the massive turbines. Although it is a crowded market, the demand for alternative energy stock photos is large, and it was little effort on my part to stop and take a few shots. In fact, all of the photos below were taken from a moving car on the freeway (don’t worry – I wasn’t driving)!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A couple of weeks ago, I drove up to Lassen National Park for a quick solo overnight backpacking trip. I could tell that wilderness camping in the park was not very common by the raised eyebrows from the ranger when I asked for a permit. “Oh. Did you hear about the weather?” she asked.
Uh oh, I thought. That is never a good sign. She went on to tell me that the temperature was expected to drop by 30 degrees and a thunderstorm was moving in, with rain expected by 11 AM of my first day. I decided to give it a go anyway, and see how bad the weather would get. Before setting up camp at the trail head, I drove north to Manzanita Lake for sunset, where I took this week’s photo.
Luckily, I was blessed with great weather that evening, and had a pleasant hike around the lake capturing different views of the mountain reflected in the deep blue water. Mt. Lassen is probably most photogenic from the north, so this lake is a (very) popular spot for campers. I was happy to see some snow still clinging to the north-facing slopes.
After sunset, I drove south to the trail head, set up camp, and was soon asleep. The rain started at 5 AM and picked up from there. I packed up in the rain, tried to wait out the storm in the car, and finally gave up around 8:30. It turned out to be a good decision, because it rained continuously for the next couple of days. With low, fog-like clouds over much of the landscape, photography was rendered pointless. The handful of photos I took at Manzanita Lake turned out to be the bright spot (literally) of my trip. Overall, the trip was not what I was planning, but it is hard to be disappointed with such a beautiful scene.
