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Braced against the wind

Friday, January 6th, 2012

In Medicine Bow, Wyoming, they say the wind doesn’t blow twenty four hours out of the whole year.  Even in July, the wind is cold, noisy, all-consuming.  One morning, my friend, hiking in the wind near Medicine Bow tripped, and at the last second looked down to see a small prairie rattlesnake strike right between her legs; if she hadn’t stumbled, she would have been bitten.  The wind silenced the snake’s warning rattle.

The wind can be harsh, cold, brutal, and at the same time it can be life-giving, sustaining.  It shapes who we are, and what we have yet to become.  If you’ve lived with it for any period of time, you know what I’m talking about.  It may be much more tangible to see how the wind shapes the landscapes we love so much.  I’m excited to present four new images (See the portfolio here, as well as below) from two of our national parks–Bryce Canyon and Death Valley–that are devoted to the wind that shapes these beautiful, mysterious, and awe-inspiring places.

Bryce Canyon National Park is hugely popular, being part of the “Grand Circle” of the Southwest, and its no wonder why.  Bryce’s hoodoos–formed by the brilliantly colorful Claron Formation–simply glow like no other rock in southern Utah.  In concert with water, the wind shapes the hoodoos into various shapes–from hammers, to broken palaces, to entire cities.  Jagged and raw, Bryce inspires imagination and creativity, and as Ebenezer Bryce pointed out, “its a hell of a place to lose a cow.”

Contrast Bryce’s ruggedness with Death Valley’s seemingly endless sand dunes.  The wind shapes the sand into sensuous, almost erotic, curves that perhaps could be an abstract nude study rather than a grand landscape.  The light plays on the dunes on both a micro and macro scale, providing endless shapes and forms.

Hoodoos in late afternoon light, Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah

Bryce Canyon #1, 2011

 

Hoodoos in late afternoon light, Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah

Bryce Canyon #2, 2011

 

Ibex Dunes, Death Valley National Park, California

Death Valley #1, 2011

 

Ibex Dunes, Death Valley National Park, California

Death Valley #2, 2011

These images signify–in part–the forces that have shaped our national parks.  To help with the continued protection of our public lands, I’ll be donating 25% of the profits from the sale of these prints to the Wilderness Society, which works to make visits to our national parks more meaningful and inspiring.  This is not a limited-edition series of prints, and this offer doesn’t expire–I’ll make the donations forever.  Finally, I am offering special pricing for the purchase of all four of these prints, in any size.  Please visit my purchase page, or contact me for more details.

“The truest art I would strive for in any work would be to give the page the same qualities as earth: weather would land on it harshly, light would elucidate the most difficult truths; wind would sweep away obtuse padding. Finally, the lessons of impermanence taught me this: loss constitutes an odd kind of fullness; despair empties out into an unquenchable appetite for life.”   –Gretel Ehrlich

Desert Sentinels

Friday, November 11th, 2011

In the deserts and canyons of the southwest, water can be tough to come by; as a result, charismatic megafauna that rely on that water are often elusive and secretive.  The desert bighorn sheep (Ovis canadensis nelsoni) is a widespread, but uncommon resident of the southwest.

They truly are sentinels of the desert; on any given afternoon in Joshua Tree National Park,  you might see one surveying the landscape from atop a granite boulder.  In southwest Utah, they return to the canyons from the high country when the temperature starts to fall.  In the desert communities around Palm Springs, they illustrate the interaction between man and nature very well; bighorns have taken to eating ornamental cactus and other plants, so large fences have been erected to keep them out (which is ironic, because some people would pay to see a sheep!).

Desert Bighorn Sheep (Ovis canadensis nelsoni) in Joshua Tree
Desert Sentinel
Desert Bighorn Sheep (Ovis canadensis nelsoni), Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

The interaction between humans and bighorns isn’t a recent thing, though.  In fact, humans have been interacting with them since the southwest was first settled, probably thousands of years ago.  If you take any interest in rock art at all, you’ll quickly find that bighorns were a ubiquitous subject of prehistoric artists.  Indeed, I wonder if the Ancestral Puebloan and Fremont peoples who lived with these animals found them just as captivating as we do today.

Fremont River petroglyphs, capitol reef national park, utah
Badly weather damaged petroglyphs depicting desert bighorn sheep
Wolfe Ranch Petroglyphs, Arches National Park, Utah

In some ways, the desert bighorn sheep embodies the spirit of the west: it is largely solitary, is resilient, and has shown a great ability to adapt to the desert environment.  Its a true steward of the ecosystems it thrives in.  The Desert Bighorn Council is a great resource to learn more about the biology and conservation of desert bighorn sheep (they list links to many local organizations as well).

Photo of the Month–June

Wednesday, June 1st, 2011

In a previous blog post about the San Bernardino Mountains, a local range here in southern California, the comment section filled up with people who believe in finding the beauty in your own backyard, so to speak.  For this month’s image, I chose another from this range, because it represents the happiness of finding something quite unexpected and very photogenic, right in your own backyard.

A few weeks ago, we were driving to the mountains to attend a party my wife’s boss was throwing.  Due to a couple of wrong turns on the way up there, I noticed more and more Pacific Dogwoods (Cornus nuttallii) that were in full bloom.  I’m well aware of the huge flux of photographers into Yosemite Valley and Sequoia National Park for the spring Dogwood bloom, but I had no idea they bloomed so close to my home.

The next morning, a friend and I headed back to the mountains to spend some time with these lovely flowers.

Pacific Dogwoods near Crestline California, in the San Bernardino Mountains

In Bloom, May 2011

Also, I wanted to mention that I’ve put up a gallery of some of my images from the San Bernardino Mountains (click the image, or here).  It really is a pleasing mountain range that continues to surprise me.

Wind Song

Monday, May 30th, 2011

If you have never listened to the wind, you should.  It can really have a lot to say.  This last week, it screamed, violently, through the midwestern United States, leaving a terrible path of destruction in its wake.

Some areas are known for their wind.  Medicine Bow, Wyoming (home of the Virginian Hotel, made famous by Owen Wister), for instance is one of the windiest places in the United States.  When I lived in Wyoming, a rancher once told me that the wind doesn’t blow 24 hours out of the whole year in Medicine Bow.  I’m not sure how true that is, but I do know that a still day is difficult to come across.  The wind’s constant howling through the rafters and windows of homes has driven people mad in Wyoming.  Although it can’t be stopped, it can be used.  Wind farms are becoming more and more common in the windy areas of the West as an alternative to coal-powered energy.

However, just as easily as it can destroy, wind can also be gentle, almost loving.  The wind is a vital component of the weather, moving storms the feed plants and animals alike.  The wind is a pollinator, and in polluted areas, it helps to clear the air.

Recently, on a quick trip out to Joshua Tree National Park,  the wind blew all afternoon, and it must have been really blowing in the upper atmosphere, because a breath-taking lenticular cloud formed over the park.  It dissipated before sunset, but these Parry’s Nolina (Nolina parryi) almost looked like they were dancing, sexily swaying their hips, in the late afternoon light.  You can see the tail end of the lenticular in the sky.

 

Parry's Nolina, Joshua Tree National Park
Wind Song, May 2011

The wind is definitely talking.  What do you hear?

Nocturnal

Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

After the grim nature of my last post, I thought I’d share some of the positive wildlife encounters that can be had in the desert.  Last summer, a friend and I discovered huge number of common poorwills (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) that roost on the roads in Joshua Tree National Park after dark.  As a kid I remember nighthawks–another member of the Nightjar family–that would swoop through the evening sky, scooping up insects with their oversized mouths.  So, the discovery of these poorwills was welcome and nostalgic.

 

A Common Poorwill (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) in Joshua Tree National Park, California

Common Poorwill I, May 2011

I assume the poorwills–which are ground-dwelling birds–roost on the roads for a clear view of the sky, and the insects they are hunting.  They fly upwards, grab their prey, and return to the ground fairly quickly.  They can also be quite tame, when approached by a car.  By getting out slowly and crawling on my belly with a short telephoto lens, I was able to get within about 7 feet of this poorwill before it flew away, letting me get a couple of intimate portraits.

One thing that’s evident here is the amazing camouflage these animals have–they blend in very well to their surroundings, making such an open roost probably quite safe.  In addition to that, you can see the large eyes (great night vision) and “feelers” around the mouth, to help locate prey in the very immediate vicinity.

With summer approaching, keep an eye out for these charming birds on the roads!

 

A Common Poorwill (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) in Joshua Tree National Park, California

Common Poorwill II, May 2011

In Memoriam

Monday, May 16th, 2011

This weekend, a friend and I made a last minute trip out to Joshua Tree National Park to search for photography opportunities.  After doing a short hike, we drove into the main park entrance about 5:30pm.  Although the temperature was starting to drop, the asphalt was still warm; it didn’t take long before we discovered this freshly road killed Speckled Rattlesnake (Crotalus mitchllii pyrrhus).  Its a species I’ve always wanted to photograph–just not like this.

Speckled Rattlesnake in Joshua Tree National Park, California

In Memoriam, May 2011

Its always somber to see road killed reptiles, but this was just the beginning.  Not five minutes later, we pulled a very badly injured (fatally, I’m sure) coachwhip (Masticophis flagellum) off the road, and over the course of the evening, we found a gopher snake (Pituophis catenifer), and a red diamond rattlesnake (Crotalus ruber) that had been killed earlier in the day.  It was carnage–easy to see why–with cars whizzing by us at 50-60 mph (25-35 mph over the posted speed limit).

Accidents happen, especially with fast-moving snakes like gopher snakes or coachwhips–they can jump out in front of a driver, with no hope of being avoided.  But, as my friend pointed out, there is no excuse for killing a rattlesnake in a park where the speed limit is 25 or 35 miles per hour.  They’re visible animals, and when following the speed limit, they can be avoided, largely because they are slow-moving.

April and May is peak camping season in Joshua Tree–the campgrounds are full, and people are everywhere.  Right now, that time of day is suicide for a basking snake.

To make it worse, the red diamond rattlesnake we found later in the evening was missing its rattle.  I hate to think about someone hitting the animal purposely to take the rattle (although I know of people who have done just that)–its a despicable act.  Even if a later driver stopped to take it, I wouldn’t want to be that person if a park ranger came down the road!

I know I sound like a real square with this post, urging people to stick to the posted speed limit, but after what we witnessed this weekend in Joshua Tree, its obvious that slowing down could really help to save some beautiful wildlife from needless deaths.

Photo of the Month–May

Sunday, May 1st, 2011

Its true what they say: sometimes the unexpected surprises are the best.  Although I live a few miles from the Santa Ana Mountains, I haven’t explored them nearly enough.  The Santa Anas are one of the peninsular mountain ranges in southern California, and while they are a coastal range, they are far enough inland to get quite dry and hot during the summer months.

One of the things I love about this range is all of the waterfalls and cascades.  Not nearly on par with anything you might find in Yosemite, these little rivulets are quite charming, and each is a little bit different.  Last year, I spent some time with San Juan Falls, one of the easier falls to access.  This past week, Marc Perkins and I headed back to the Santa Anas to look for another waterfall.

Upper Hot Springs is another small stream, and the falls cascade about 30 feet over some very colorful rocks.  Last year, I attempted to hike to this area, but was turned around because of dense poison oak.  Last week, the trail was much more easy to find, and we found the falls with no problems.  In contrast to the oak and sycamore environment of the stream bed, the area around the falls was covered in succulent plants (whose name I do not know).

The falls on Upper Hot Springs Creek, Santa Ana Mountains, California

Upper Hot Springs

As far as I could tell, the falls don’t live up to their name in that the water wasn’t especially hot.  Oh well.  It wasn’t the best day for a soak in hot springs anyway!

I hope you enjoy the image; you can see the rest of my images from the Santa Ana Mountains here.

 

Mecca Hills Wilderness

Monday, March 28th, 2011

Late last week, we made a day trip out to the Mecca Hills Wilderness, which is located near Indio California in the Coachella Valley.  The landscape twists and turns in a very unique and beautiful way; formed by the San Andreas fault, the Mecca Hills are a badlands with colors reminiscent of the Artists’ Palette in Death Valley National Park, and canyons that would rival even the narrowest of slot canyons in Utah.

While there, we made sure to stop and hike through the popular Ladder Canyon.  Only 3-4′ wide in places and over 200′ deep, Ladder Canyon would be a technical ascent (or descent) if it weren’t for the ladders which give the canyon its name.  Due to the hike’s popularity and proximity to Palm Springs, solitude came in sporadic bursts.  Still, it was great to be in there, making images.

Ladder Canyon, Mecca Hills Wilderness, California
Ladder Canyon, March 2011

A series of unusually strong late-season storms have been hitting southern California for the last week or so, too.  Driving out, the fast-moving clouds from one of the systems had an interesting play on the light over the badlands.

Mecca Hills Wilderness Badlands, California

Badlands & Clouds, March 2011

I’m unplugging and heading off to Utah and Nevada for the week.  Hope you have a good one!

Two Saints

Wednesday, January 19th, 2011

Because much of southern California lies at a relatively low altitude, several peaks in the surrounding mountain ranges are very prominent, and are quite impressive.  Two of the twenty most prominent summits in the United States–San Jacinto Peak (10,834′) and San Gorgonio Mountain (11,503′)–are located here, and are both visible Palm Springs, in the Coachella Valley.

sunrise light on Mt. San Gorgonio in southern California

San Gorgonio Mountain, January 2011

Both peaks tower over the valley by more than two miles, one of the most impressive vertical drops in the United States.  Because of the gap created by these two high mountain ranges, high winds often occur at the entrance to the Coachella Valley.  As a result, a very large wind farm is maintained in this area; some of the windmills are visible in the image above, at the base of San Gorgonio Mountain.

Ambitious hikers can hike San Jacinto Peak from the valley floor–a vertical ascent over more than 10,000′!  Others–like me–take the aerial tramway from Palm Springs to an elevation of 8,500′, making for a much more reasonable hike.  Ultra-ambitious hikers who take on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) must descend 10,000′ down the San Jacinto Mountains into the Coachella Valley, and almost immediately re-ascend almost the same height back into the San Bernardino Mountains (where San Gorgonio Mountain is located).  The constant up and down hiking through southern California’s mountains makes the southern part of the PCT rather unenjoyable for PCT through-hikers.  I can understand why.

Sunrise on Mt. San Jacinto, in southern California

San Jacinto Peak, January 2011

I was able to photograph these two impressive mountains last weekend as we got an early start driving to Phoenix.  We’ve had unseasonably warm temperatures in southern California for the last week or so due to a high pressure system over the Great Basin, but the snow is still heavy at the high altitudes, as you can see in these photos.  The thing I like about these peaks is that you can go from a true desert ecosystem to an alpine ecosystem, while coving a very small horizontal distance.

I hope you enjoy these impressive mountains as much as I do!

The Bone Yard

Friday, December 17th, 2010

Fire is a crucial element in southern California’s ecology and culture.  Every fall, fueled by the Santa Ana winds, fire descends upon the sage scrub communities, cleaning out the underbrush, allowing life to start anew.  The Santa Anas (and to some extent their homologues in other Mediterranean climates) have an almost mythical status, and are the subject of Crime Noir novels (The Underground Man, 1971) and even punk rock (Bad Religion’s Los Angeles is Burning).

I photographed this burn area last weekend (it burned in late July) in the–appropriately named–Santa Ana Mountains of southern California.  While life is starting to spring back up, the area is still largely a bone yard.

Burn area in southern California's Santa Ana Mountains

The Bone Yard, December 2010