This is a shot from a couple of years ago when I was in Vancouver, Washington. It showcases the importance of always having a photo scouting mentality, as well as perseverance to get the desired shot, even if it takes multiple visits.
I first spied this scene while on a trail run along the creek. It was midday, with horrible lighting. The wind was blowing ripples all through the water. But in my mind’s eye, I thought, “Hmmm, that might look really nice in early morning with calm water and reflections.” The sun rises behind the mountain, so I figured about 15 minutes before dawn could light up the sky, if the conditions were correct.
So I mentally marked down the spot and continues on my run. Several weeks later the weather conditions looked promising. There were going to be mixed clouds (giving the sky a little texture), and clear skies to the east (allowing the rising sun to light the clouds and the sky without obstruction).
The run rises behind Mt. Hood on a cloudless morning, with Salmon Creek in the foreground, Vancouver, WA.
The image above is what I was able to achieve that morning. The windless morning allowed reflections in the calm waters of the creek. However, the clouds in the sky never materialized, and I believe the atmospheric conditions were diffusing the rising sun, giving a dull yellow cast over everything. Certainly not what I had previsualized on my run.
Time to try again.
Sunrise lights up the clouds behind Mt. Hood, reflected in the still waters of Salmon Creek, Vancouver, WA.
My next try was several weeks later – the weather forecast looked promising once again. This time I was greeted by much more successful weather – lots of high clouds to reflect back the rising sun. Crisp reflections and light pastels painted the surface of the water. I spent about 15 minutes in total, just trying different things. The composition I started with however, (the one I had decided on weeks earlier on my run), was indeed my favorite, and the one I went with here.
After I took this shot and processed it to my liking, I didn’t stop thinking about what else this photo could be. I’d love to go back some day after a winter storm and get light pinks highlighting river banks of freshly fallen snow. Perhaps I will some day, but for now, I’m happy with my efforts.
Last year I finally purchased a phone with a camera good enough to take photos I was more or less happy with. So on a backpacking trip late last summer, I decided to put my new phone to the test and pit it against my bulky DSLR and associated gear that I lug along with me on my trips.
First of all, for those who haven’t backpacked before, the best preparation you can make for your trips is to shed as much carry weight as possible. This means light weight backpack, sleeping gear, etc in order to be able to hike further each day and in more comfort. I spend days weighing my gear and making tough decisions about which comfort items to leave behind. That’s why it is so painful when I add up the nearly 9 pounds of extra weight for my camera gear.
For multiday backpacking trips, I typically take the following items:
camera body (including l-bracket)
24-70mm f/2.8 lens
light weight tripod and small ball head
cotton carrier vest (this way I can carry the camera on my chest for easy access along the trail)
extra bracket to attach camera to vest
at least 1 extra battery
Two boulders stand sentinel over a valley catching the last rays of daylight, Sequoia National Park
Because of all this extra weight, I’ve been looking for something lighter weight that could deliver equal or almost equal results as the DSLR. Enter the ultimate multi-use device, the cell phone. A couple of years ago my stand-alone Garmin GPS stopped coming with me on trips (I can navigate perfectly well with pre-downloaded maps and my phone’s GPS), and this time I was testing the new cell phone’s camera to see how it would stack up to my pro gear. I wasn’t expecting parody of features or quality, but if it was “good enough” it would save me about 9 lbs of gear – an incredible amount of weight for backpacking.
As I often do, I set out with my friend Steve to explore a new area of the Sierra Nevada over the next five days. Our destination was Sequoia National Park, departing from the remote Mineral King ranger station. We would be hiking in to intersect part of the High Sierra Trail (becoming much more popular over the last few years as the JMT has been at capacity all summer).
The photo above was taken with my Google Pixel, sporting one of the better cellphone cameras on the market (at the time). This was taken from our first camp at sunset, past Timber Gap. Although the phone shoots RAW, I’ve uploaded the JPG that was processed in-camera to give you an idea of automatic results. To be honest, I wasn’t able to pull much more out the photo through post-processing the RAW file – it appears as though Google’s processing algorithms do a very good job here.
On our second day, we got a very early start, and climbed to the Great Western Divide by 10 in the morning. We quickly dropped down into the next valley, and intersected with the High Sierra Trail. Our destination was further north, nestled at the top of a valley adjacent to several off-trail lakes. Neither of us had been here, but the area looked great for camping and photography based on topo maps.
One of the first things we noticed as we met the High Sierra Trail on this warm August afternoon was a relative lack of people. This was a great sign, as we enjoy the solitude of the wilderness. One of the biggest disappointments in backpacking is to struggle along a trail for hours, only to come to a spot overrun by a loud group. We attributed the scarcity of hikers to the fact that there had recently been a complete washout further up the High Sierra Trial. This caused people to either turn around to go back the way they had come, or to cancel their trips altogether. As we were not through-hiking the trail, it didn’t affect our trip at all. But we got to benefit from this temporary closure.
Wildflowers bloom in the late summer, Sequoia National Park
Our long day ended in a beautiful campsite overlooking the valley we had hiked up. It was difficult to find a good spot to set up tents, but after careful searching we found a prime location. As the sun got lower in the sky, we realized that we likely had the entire valley to ourselves, as we hadn’t seen another soul for hours, and the few campsites closer to the trail were deserted.
In addition to the glorious solitude, we were treated to a variety of wildflower blooms all around our camp. Even though it was already August, these flowers were in peak bloom as we were well above 11,000 feet. The photo above was focus stacked with my 50 MP Canon 5DSr. Although I took the same photo with my phone’s camera, it really couldn’t achieve the quality of the DSLR. Being able to focus stack with my DSLR gave me crisp detail throughout the entire scene, whereas the cell phone couldn’t hold that deep focus. In addition, once you zoomed in beyond regular computer screen size, the detail of the phone camera started to fall away and more digital artifacts and noise were introduced. This would affect the printability of the image, and ended up being something I just couldn’t sacrifice, even if it meant carrying an additional 9 lbs of gear.
Many mountain lakes remain cold year round, showcasing chunks of ice that float from one shore to another, Sequoia National Park
The next day we left our camp set up and day-hiked into a nearby basin dotted with lakes. This was somewhat challenging terrain and entirely off-trail. I had left most of my gear back at camp, including my photo gear, so this was taken with my cell phone camera. This allowed me to be more agile off-trail, while still able to capture my journey.
A waterfall flows into a creek prime for campsite drinking water, Sequoia National Park
A second evening at our camp site gave us more time to explore the area, including this small waterfall just below our site. Once again, my camera gear did the proper job. Mounting the camera on a small travel tripod allowed me to not only focus stack but also to slow down the shutter speed to capture the motion of the water. This shot was far beyond the capabilities of the phone camera.
The Big Arroyo bubbles past the high sierra trail, Sequoia National Park
The next morning it was time to leave our mountain paradise and begin the journey home. Retracing our steps back down the canyon, we hiked past the serpentine route that the Big Arroyo cut through the valley floor.
We spent the night in another valley, in the shadow of the Sawtooth Range, our destination for the next morning. I was a bit nervous for the following day, because we had a pretty brutal climb up to Columbine Lake, at which point the trail ended. We were planning to continue off-trail over the 12,000 ft pass next to Sawtooth Peak.
Columbine Lake sits below Sawtooth Peak, overlooking Sequoia National Park
Our final morning dawned a clear blue sky. With an early start we made Columbine Lake by 10 AM, and rested a bit before venturing over the pass. Although very steep, there was a relatively clear use trail with a series of ducks to guide the way. The only sketchy part of the climb was the need to traverse a large snow bank right before the pass. Class 4+ scrambling got us around it, though my heart was beating out of my chest as there were hundreds of feet of near-vertical scree below us. A slip here would not have turned out well.
Finally we hit the pass and it was a quick 8 miles of decent to get back to the car. As we drove back to the SF Bay Area, we realized that everything we could think of had gone according to plan. We reached our planned destinations, covered the entire Nine Lakes Basin, experienced the ultimate solitude and had a beautiful campsite for two nights.
My final verdict is that while my phone sports an amazing little camera, it couldn’t quite replace my heavier gear. I proved to myself the worthiness of carrying a heavy DSLR and tripod, especially if I expected to make portfolio-worthy wilderness photographs. The camera phone indeed was a great asset during the day while on the trail, making me reconsider how I carry my gear in the future. I might stow my DSLR and tripod away and plan to only use them from around camp during the golden hours. My phone is easy to access from a pocket while hiking, and photos with midday lighting are not as likely to become a quality print. Time will tell, but I look forward to more experimentation with the capabilities of this handy device.
A couple of weekends ago, I had the opportunity to witness one of nature’s most spectacular light phenomenons. For only a few days of only some years, a seasonal waterfall in Yosemite National Park glows like lava as it catches the last rays of waning sunlight. I had long wanted to witness this event in person, but timing or weather had thus far made it impossible. Luckily, my good friend Steve was on the ball, and invited me along. He had already taken care of all the logistics (thank you Steve!) and all I had to do was pack for snow and show up.
Snow covers the floor of Yosemite Valley after a winter storm.
After a morning drive to Yosemite from the San Francisco Bay Area, we soon found ourselves in one of the most beautiful valleys on Earth. A recent storm had dropped several feet of snow on the ground and frosted the landscape, accentuating Yosemite Valley in all it wintry glory.
Snow covers the floor of Yosemite Valley after a winter storm.
As I often do with grand vistas, I not only captured the standard landscape shots, but also used my telephoto lens to find scenes within the scene. Switching to my 70-200mm allowed me to isolate Bridalveil Falls cascading down icy cliffs.
Bridalveil Falls forms an icy sheen on the rocks below, Yosemite National Park, CA.
We stopped off at the Bridalveil Falls trail and scrambled up the slippery path to the base of the falls. Here it became a frigid dance of setting up a shot on the tripod, wiping the icy spray that had accumulated on the lens, and quickly firing a shot. Many times the same shot had to be repeated due to poor wiping skills. Being able to immediately review each shot on the back of the camera was essential for success. With deep respect, I thought of the many photography legends who likely stood in this very spot using much more challenging gear.
Yosemite Falls is reflected in the calm water below, Yosemite National Park, CA.
Throughout midday, we were able to capture some of the valley’s most famous icons, dusted in powdery snow.
Finally it was time to prepare for the main event. Many parking lots in Yosemite Valley were closed due to the several feet of snow on the ground. We parked at the closest lot and then snowshoed about a mile to the principal location at which the fire falls phenomenon could be viewed. We set up cameras and tripods at around 2pm, and waited until sunset, which we wouldn’t see for another three and a half hours (yes, landscape photography requires patience!).
For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.
Finally, just after 5pm, Horsetail Falls came to life. Starting with an intense yellow, the falls turned to orange lava over the course of ten minutes.
The story of the original Yosemite “fire falls” goes back to the early years of the National Park Service, at a time when it was struggling to define the meaning of “attraction” for park visitors. One popular sentiment of the day was that the parks had to entertain visitors, much in the way a circus would entertain audiences through spectacle.  As much of the nation was still rural, the idea of simply having access to wilderness was not as precious as today.
For example, when black bears began to raid the poorly maintained Yosemite Valley dump where all food scraps would end up, the first thought was not the safety of the wild bears. Instead of building proper barricades to prevent the bears from habituating to human food, the park service built bleachers around the dump so that visitors could watch the action. Another such misstep was the nightly building of a large bonfire at the top of Glacier Point. As the fire burned down, the embers were shoveled off the cliff, creating a “fire fall” to wow the crowd below in Curry Village. Thankfully this practice was eliminated in the early 1960s. Little did people realize that nature was already providing a much more spectacular display of its own.
For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.
In 1973, photographer Galen Rowel was coming back from a climb in the valley when he looked up and saw a stunning light display against the shadowed backdrop of El Capitan. Amazed at what he saw, he rushed to photograph it, only to see the light disappear before his eyes. Although he didn’t know if he’d ever see something like that again, the next night he was prepared. Sure enough, around the same time of day, Horsetail Falls (a seasonal waterfall that only flows with the proper amount of snow melt) lit up like a beacon. He quickly composed an image that would become famous, and introduced the world to this amazing natural “fire fall”, which is now photographed by hundreds of photographers annually.
For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.
What Galen Rowel was seeing was the setting sun striking only Horsetail Falls, isolating it against the dark cliffs of El Capitan. There is only about 10 minutes per day where this contrast can be seen, turning the water a reddish orange just before the sun dips over the horizon. In addition, this perfect sun angle that is required to light the falls but not the cliff only happens twice a year for a few days at a time. And only in late February is there a chance that Horsetail Falls is actually flowing. This explains why this natural “fire fall” was such a rare occurrence before anybody knew to look for it.
I was overjoyed to finally witness and photograph this phenomenon for myself.
In August my friend Steve and I attempted a quick four day loop through parts of Inyo National Forest. Our plan was to ascend Piute Pass, head down the other side to Evolution Valley, and loop back up Darwin Canyon through Lamarck Col to complete the loop at North Lake. Sounded pretty simple, and going through some beautiful country. What we hadn’t planned on when creating the trip was how much snow was still in the mountains from the heavy winter. Even though it was August, snow still covered much of our trail.
As our trip date approached, we saw that not only would we have lots of snow to contend with, but also some very wet weather. Monsoonal moisture was pushing up from the east side of the Sierra, looking to drench our trip. After some deliberation, we decided to push forward, hoping for at least one clear evening or morning in Evolution Valley. I’d certainly put up with four days of rain for one beautiful landscape shot to add to my portfolio.
Snowmelt feeds waterfalls on the climb up to Piute Pass, Inyo National Forest, CA.
The climb up to Piute Pass was uneventful, passing a series of lakes on the way to the day’s high point. Glaciers clung to the northern slopes of the mountains, feeding small waterfalls. We did encounter several groups of happy campers who had spent the previous night at some of these lakes. I spoke briefly to a man named John and his son Clay who looked like they braved the nighttime rains in good spirits.
As we got closer to the top, I started seeing small fields of wildflowers. It was the right time of year for this elevation, but given how much snow was still in the mountains, I hadn’t been thinking of wildflowers at all.
Wildflowers adorn the meadows below Piute Pass, Inyo National Forest, CA
As soon as we were over the pass, we were treated to panoramic views of the mountains to the south. We had a short respite of flat ground, before the trail steepened and we descended into forest. As the rain started to fall, I donned my lightweight rain jacket and began to wonder if I was really prepared for potentially four days of rain. Soon we came across our first water crossing. The typical rock hop had swollen to a deep, fast flow, requiring the removal of my boots and a careful crossing. While the water was only up to my mid thigh, I began to worry about the crossings to come, knowing that some were much deeper.
Some days on the trail, the terrain wins the day. This was certainly one of those days. By the time we got to our campsite area, I was absolutely beat, and soaking wet from the five hours of downpour. Steve and I slogged around the area looking for a fire ring. Every spot that looked like it could work was under water. Between the rainfall and melting snow, there was so much water in the area that large pools formed in just about every flat space available. After about 45 minutes of searching, we finally found a place. I set up on a very wet slab of granite, hoping most of the water would run around my tent rather than under it. We heroically got a smoldering fire going, and tucked in for an early night.
The next morning, we woke to clear skies. However, everything I owned seemed to be soaked. Even my down sleeping back was wet on the outside, worrying me about warmth for the next cold night if it soaked through. We sat for a few minutes debating whether to push on, or just abandon and head back to the car. I was tired, wet, and worried about the difficult water crossings ahead. What finally swayed me was the discovery that my right boot was completely separating from the sole. This did not bode well for three more days of rough travel, much of it cross country. Time to head back to the car.
Wildflowers adorn the meadows below Piute Pass, Inyo National Forest, CA
Thus, with heavy hearts we repeated the terrain of day one. I tied some twine around my boot to hold it together and we climbed back up to Piute Pass from the west. Given that we had extra time to get back to the car, we stopped and took in a few beautiful wildflower displays on the western side of the pass.
Wildflowers adorn the meadows below Piute Pass, Inyo National Forest, CA
While we didn’t get to see the glory of Evolution Valley, it was beautiful country nonetheless. Even though it is always difficult when you don’t reach your goals, we still enjoyed a night out in the wilderness, 22 miles of challenging hiking, and some high elevation August wildflowers. Failed trip? Maybe. But it is hard to bemoan getting some solitude out in the natural world. It does much to replenish my soul, even when the going is tough.
