Highlights of 2009 Pt.4

"Discover" - Corey peering into a cavern on the edge of the Mendenhall Glacier

To uncover something new is a glorious enterprise, even if it is only new to you. Now I am not an explorer or even an adventurous type when it comes right down to it. Not once do I remember having a restful night in a sleeping bag and tent, so I tend not to get too far from home. Fortunately, I live on the edge of a wilderness that is vast and breathtaking. Discovery is just around the corner, and this summer was full of it.

Corey and I did not get an early start on the day I made this photograph, nor did we take a direct path to this spot. I was hoping that the summer sun would linger on the horizon long enough to cast its light on these waterfalls as we approached, but Mt. McGinnis looms large to the west and casts its shadow early. Not sure we would find a route to the base of the falls at all, we stopped to admire and photograph many of the glacier’s grand displays. Finally Corey determined a course, and we made it to a spot I had seen from a great distance on so many occasions. To witness the water pouring over these cliffs and burrowing back under the ice from mere feet away brought almost uncontainable excitement. I could have held me head under the water, but I was content enough to feel the spray on my face.

Though it seems it would have been a day of satisfaction and completion, the descent to the lake was instead steeped with mystery and intrigue. A cave under the side of the glacier was growing, new and dark, over a mountain stream. In the waning light, I could only dream at what I might find deeper inside.

Highlights of 2009 Pt.3

"Lupine Jewels" - dew drops covering lupine on the banks of the Mendenhall River

On special mornings like the one when this photo was made, some people feel a strong connection to nature. As I leaned over these young lupine plants bathed in light that was just beginning to make its way through the mist of morning, I felt a strong connection to God. It was almost as if I were catching a glimpse of heaven; at least witnessing this world’s perfect design. I thought it was fitting that this piece is up for auction today at a fundraiser to support Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquakes that happened earlier this month. The photo shows a time of newness for a fragile subject. I pray that God’s blessings and protection will bring comfort to the people of Haiti as they try to begin anew.

Highlights of 2009 Pt.2

"Hidden Valley Explosion" - yucca at dawn in JTNP

Well the snow never quite came hard enough to keep a day of work at bay, but I still had time to go through some of the year’s RAW files and finish processing a photo to accent this installment of the “Highlights” series. We’re jumping from a break in work that allows photographing around town to one that almost always involves traveling of some kind. While photography is never more than a secondary aspect of my spring break trips, I worked hard this past spring to squeeze some really exciting excursions in. On three different mornings, I rose long before dawn and drove for hours from my base at the family farm in the Mojave Desert of southern California. Each morning had some similarities (mostly in how hard it was to get out of bed on those chilly windy mornings), but they were also unique from a photographic perspective.

My first trip in the Alabama Hills was to a location I had never visited, and it proved challenging just to know where to turn, where to stop, which direction to walk, or even what my subject should be. Spring growth and flowers turned out to be the surprise highlight in a place well known for its rock formations and mountain backdrop. My second drive was the only one that took me to a spot that I had visited in the past, Joshua Tree National Park. I’m quite fond of what the park has to offer and the way it contrasts so dramatically with my Alaskan home. My previous visits both happened during the second half of the day, so I was almost as lost for direction as I had been the morning prior. Fortunately, that left me open to respond to ideas and subjects as the light presented itself, which is my preferred way of photographing. The best part about my final trip was having some company at last. I had picked up my parents on the way back from JTNP, and my dad agreed to accompany me on a drive up to Death Valley, a place we would both be experiencing for the first time. The Mesquite Dunes, more than any other place I’ve traveled, emphasized to me the importance of keeping an open mind while photographing and responding quickly to the light. The patterns accentuated in the sand seemed to change by the second, but at the end of a fleeting dawn, I was really pleased with my results.

In my mind, nothing compares to the place I call home, but without some escapes from Juneau, I’m pretty sure I would go totally nuts. The change of pace also contributes to a fresh perspective for photography, and I return to the temperate northern coast with a new appreciation after having time to contrast it with other regions. I’m already looking forward to the possibilities of the next spring break trip I have planned. Flights are booked, and I can’t wait.

Highlights of 2009 Pt.1

"Tiny Explorer" - Della at the Brotherhood Bridge Trailhead

I’ve decided to follow the model of countless other “blogging photographers” and put together a list of the photographic highlights from the last year. I have no plans to rank them, and instead of the norm, which is to include a list in a single post, I’ll be adding photographs separately so that I can take some time to talk about each one. I may choose to showcase a favorite image, a personal experience, a new style, or whatever else comes to me. I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure it’s going to be fun for me, and I hope you enjoy it as well.

While I already stated there would be no particular order, Della (my 18-month old daughter) has been without a doubt the premier highlight of my year. The smiles never stop, and she continues to surprise me with her new fun traits and ideas. One of God’s greatest blessings is the opportunity to be a parent, especially Della’s dad. While we can have a good time almost anywhere, I treasure the time my little family spends in the wild, beautiful places around our home. Most of the time, photography takes a back seat, but on this trip to the Brotherhood Bridge Trail, I set out intending to get pictures of my own tiny Patagonia gear model. Photographing a young child has proven to be great practice for if I ever decide to get seriously into the wildlife genre. Della definitely tested the limits of my experience, but it was always a blast.

…anyway, I could probably go on about this subject indefinitely, but I’ll wrap things up. Hopefully I’ll have a second installment of this “highlights” series up in the not too distant future. If the snow keeps up tonight, it could even be tomorrow.

Welcome 2010!

It’s been far too long since my last entry, and I have a back-log of things I was planning to share. I still don’t quite feel like I have time to put together a thoughtful post, so it will just have to be images for now. I had a fabulous time photographing at the glacier on New Year’s Day (really mostly post-sunset). I actually set up the camera very few times during my outing because of the cold, but I ended up being very happy with almost every outcome. I hope your 2010 is filled with God’s blessing.

Without a Bridge

In the summer, it requires a canoe or kayak to take advantage of the alternative route that the Mendenhall Lake provides for accessing the glacier that shares its name. In the cold of winter, as the ice thickens, two feet will serve you just fine. I can’t help but utilize the convenience at almost every chance I get. As a photographer, the freeze provides the added bonus that I can stand and set up a tripod in a spot where I should be treading water (really cold water). A unique perspective is rarely so easy to come by.

A Closer Look

I went out in search of interesting frost and freeze patterns along the shore of the Mendenhall Lake, but at the end of another gorgeous weekend, foot traffic had basically erased that option. Making my way to the far side of the ice, past most of the skating tracks, I found an abundance of undisturbed beauty. The photo shown here is of a subject I don’t usually get involved with because so many other photographers have already done such a phenomenal job recording similar scenes, but I’m glad I stopped and took a chance. I’m glad because I underappreciated how incredible this small patch of ice really was when I tripped the camera’s shutter. Fortunately, the camera does not make value judgements on what is placed in front of the lens; it faithfully records all the details. Even were I paying close attention, I think a majority of those details would be missed by my naked eye, but when I began the processing of this image, the glorious intricacies jumped off the screen. I wish there was a way to share a large print here on this journal. I’m eager to make one, and I imagine that is the only way this city of bubbles will be fully appreciated.

Night Ice

This is basically my second attempt at night photography with static stars. I’ve been looking forward to trying the concept behind this photo for several months, and I believe tonight was the first night of the year that the ice over the Mendenhall lake make access to the foot of the glacier possible. Though the results are at least interesting, I’m not completely settled on the composition. I’m sure I’ll try this again at some point.

For the Beauty of the Earth…

Thanksgiving has long been one of my favorite holidays, not for the sake of the various foods prepared, but because I find a true joy in being grateful. Though it can be supressed or misdirected, I think gratitude is probably the most natural response humans have to God. Expressing gratitude has such a wonderful way of benefiting both the recipient and the person sharing it, which is why it feels so right. The reality of my own photographic style is that I am often completely caught up in the moment and my surroundings, but when I take time to contemplate the act, I recognize my underlying goal to show appreciation for the experience of living. The camera allows me to be consistently conscious of the multitude of blessings that surround me, even when I don’t have it in hand.

Last Sunday afternoon (because that is when the sun goes down these days), my wife, Breea, gave me the gift of time to hike out into the winter wilderness. I was hopeful that the increasing clouds on the horizon would not interrupt completely the light of the setting sun, and I hiked the trail above the west side of the Mendenhall Glacier to a spot that gives a stunning view over the ice and of the surrounding peaks. The sky was plain in the direction I wanted to focus, and my tripod was unwieldy on the steep slopes and snow, so I composed all my photos with a long lens using IS. Shooting handheld is unusual for me, but I love the incredible freedom it gives to respond quickly to the ever-changing light on a varied landscape.

I almost always hike to my destination enjoying my surroundings but with my camera remaining in the backpack. But because of the fickle light, I forced myself to stop when I got to a place on the trail that offered a clear view of a scene I had been enjoying through the branches of the trees. Indeed, the light only lasted for about a minute after I stopped. What I found special was the role warmth plays in this photograph of snow and ice because of the way the warm light reflects back and forth in the crevasses.

The contrast of warm and cool became something of a theme through the rest of my outing, and each subsequent image would show the combination in a new way. The photo below was not one I knew I would like as much some others at the moment I tripped the shutter, but I wanted to make a record of the impressive lighting and features. While later viewing the image, I grew more and more fond of the lines and colors. Sometimes we don’t appreciate something the way we should at first, but when we take time and give consideration, the value that was initially misjudged becomes apparent.

I saw the paths of light and shadow from this next photograph leading away from each other within the scene, and I thought it made a poignant statement about the paths of thought we choose to follow. When we perseverate on the darkness that surrounds us, and everyone faces their own challenges, there’s a tendency to become despondent or even despairing. When I instead count my many blessing, it’s a way to follow the light path toward a place filled with peace that is easily missed. In the end, I know that the metaphor is a bit of a stretch, and the photo doesn’t quite capture the response I had to the scene for some reason, but I still like the concept.

This broken section of glacier where the edge of the ice is falling over a steep bank has always caught my attention on visits to this location. Theres a fanning pattern and a sharpness in the edges of the ice that continues to conjure up images in my mind of tongues of flame. Even as the light faded on this afternoon, I got that same impression. Again, it connects to the theme of pairing cold with hot in an unexpected way.

In the final photo from the set, direct light is completely absent from the scene, and yet there are some ways that a subdued warmth covers an even greater percentage of the image that in any of the previous pictures. It’s about perspective, and I controlled the white-balance settings to reflect my impression that the cold didn’t take over the scene after the sun set. It’s like the part of the classic movie, Pollyanna, where the main character claims she can find something to be thankful for in any situation with a list of examples that border on the ridiculous. This may, in fact, be my favorite photo of the group.

I find that the beauty of the Earth is an inspiration to be thankful for a great many things with more significance than a stunning landscape can possibly have. It’s a hook that pulls me in and reminds me to consider all the blessings of relationships that will be more permanent than glaciers or even the mountains and valleys that they shape. This morning I have plenty of other inspirations for a grateful attitude: my daughter, Della, crawled into my room about an hour ago and asked me to tell her if her feet were stinky after I took off the brace she wears on them at night; I talked to my brother on the phone yesterday just hours after the birth of his twins; I’m looking forward to an evening of celebrating this holiday in the company of most of Breea’s immediate family. I could go on and on, but I will do that in my own mind over the course of the day and those to come.

Thanksgiving is a state of mind that is much more easily attained with knowledge of God’s greatest gift to each of us. When Jesus paid the price for every wrong we’ve ever thought or done, God showed us a love that was beyond anything we could merit. The only reasonable response is thanksgiving, and eventually we learn to love in return. Every good gift comes from God, and I would like to close these thoughts with a line from the chorus of the song from which I borrowed the title for this journal entry. “Lord of all, to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise!”

Remember Summer?

Anyone who has been around Juneau for long is sure to remember this past summer as one of the best ever. The sheer number of sunny days and the comfortable temperatures were a stark contrast to the typical climate, and many residents took advantage of the chances to get outdoors. After the time-change on Sunday, the official end of my workday has shifted to after sunset, making it more and more difficult to find opportunities to make new photographs. That is part of the reason that I was thinking back to the last trip Corey and I made out to the glacier together before summer ended. I was planning to share some of these photos in another venue, but time has not allowed it. Every time I review them, I get a little excited (ice climbing is just so exhilarating), and I hope they do the same for you.

This first photo gives a unique perspective on crevasse climbing since it’s much more difficult to get a camera into position at climber level than it is to photograph from above. The image also showcases quite well the distinctive blue of deeper ice.

The next photo betrays my location somewhat, showing that I was not down in the crevasse with Corey. I was actually standing on the other side of a much larger crevasse and photographing with a telephoto lens to get the first image’s up-close perspective.

I like this last one because it shows off the massive area in which Corey was climbing with no rope. I was more than just a little uneasy about it at the time, but he has just continued to shrug is off as no big deal whenever I’ve brought it up.