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Today was our last day at Olympic and we spent it back in the mountains.  We learned a couple things today - weather changes fast, you can't predict sunrise or sunset light conditions, lightening storms in the mountains are loud, small clouds turn into big clouds, and it takes far longer to cover four miles with a camera than it does without one.

We hiked a trail called the Grand Valley Trail and the views were definitely grand.  We had to cross several snow banks and we walked along a ridge line with a great view of the mountains literally on all sides of us.  Every direction you turned - more mountains.  I think I took a photo of the same mountains every ten feet as the view changed.

It started off as a beautiful day - 48 degrees and the sun shining.  It rose quickly into the fifties and sixties.  It was the perfect combination of warm sun and cool air.  We had a snowball fight on one snowbank (I won) and rested on top of one of the most picturesque spots we have seen.

Then, as we were preparing for some sunset photography, the weather changed quickly.  And a lightening storm came down the valley.  The image above is from the early stages as the clouds rolled in.  The sun was still out at the other end and providing some great light.  It got worse than this and the lightening and rain chased us down the valley (we were in the car).  There was even some sleet mixed in with the rain.  So while we didn't get the typical sunset photos, we had a great day anyway!

The first photo below is an early morning view of Lake Crescent as we drove back to Hurricane Ridge.  And the other photo is what the same mountain range looked like during the nice sunny part of the day.

Hope you enjoyed the Olympic National Park photos as much as I enjoyed making them!

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We spent the entire day today hiking the coastal part of Olympic National Park.  The coastal part of the park is made up of many rocky beaches with offshore "sea stacks".  There are also lots of tide pools and marine life.  And we saw five bald eagles and some otters.  We also saw a mother deer and two fawns walk down onto the beach.   

Once again we got up at 4am and headed out to photograph the sunrise.  But this time the weather did not cooperate - we got to Rialto Beach and stared out at a thick fog cover.  But we made the best of it and hiked and photographed anyway.  The difference between high tide and low tide along the Washington Coast is amazing.  It was high tide when we hiked back around noon and that forced us to walk two miles on loose stones rather than hard packed sand - not the most pleasant thing to do in hiking boots!   We then went to "Second Beach" and hiked along the coast and finally ended back at Rialto Beach for the sunset.  All told, we hiked about ten miles along the coast today and my feet are really killing me!  The lead photograph above is from sunset at Rialto Beach.

The photo of the starfish below is one we saw clinging to a rock during low tide.  For hours each day they hang in until the tide comes back in and they get covered in water.  And the other photo below is one of the sea stacks on Second Beach.  It really is an incredible place to see!  

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It is the end of Day 2 and I am enjoying a dinner of goldfish crackers and pretzels as I write this blog.  With 17 hours of daylight and the need to be out before sunrise and after sunset, there isn't time for a real dinner.

The weather here changes often, changes quickly, and is hard to predict.  It's been in the fifties and sixties both days but we froze this morning on the top of Hurricane Ridge during sunrise.  It rained on us during our hike in the rainforest (I guess we shouldn't be surprised by that), and it was warm enough to walk in the water along the coast during the evening.

We had a very full day.  We raced up the mountain and saw the full moon set at 5am over the top of snow-capped mountains.  We then photographed the sunrise only to be swallowed in fog so thick you couldn't see.  Then we headed for the rain forest and had perfect conditions - overcast and light drizzle.  The trees were huge and covered in moss and everything was so green.  And finally we went to Ruby Beach which must have been the only place on the Olympic Peninsula where the sun was shining.

The main image at top is from the Hoh Rainforest.  The sunrise photo below is from the top of Hurricane Ridge.  And the beach photo is from Ruby Beach.  

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Some of you know that I am at Olympic National Park in Washington for a four day photography and hiking trip.  I've been looking forward to the trip for awhile now and Rich and I have just had a very full first day.  

The weather forecast for Day 1 was the worst of the four days - cloudy and a couple showers.  After some whining we decided to get up at 4am anyway and drive to the top of Hurricane Ridge for sunrise photography.  Sunrise isn't so great on a cloudy day, but we were rewarded with an incredibly clear morning sky and I photographed the fog rolling over the ridges.

We hiked around some incredible mountains in the morning before our eight mile hike of the day.  During our eight mile hike the weather forecast turned accurate and we got rained on a couple times.  We hiked walked along a 6000 foot ridge top literally in the clouds.  It was eerie.

It was too cloudy for sunset at Hurricane Ridge so we drove down to the coast and spent a little time photographing there.  Tomorrow is Day 2 in the mountains and then we switch it up and spend two days on the coast and in the rain forest.

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If you were outside on Monday at 8:35PM, you witnessed something special.  Yesterday, I saw the sun set and the full moon rise on the summer solstice on the North Lookout of Hawk Mountain.  The last time the full moon occurred on the same day as the summer solstice was 70 years ago!

I watched as the sun dipped below the horizon on the longest day of the year.  And within five minutes, directly behind me, the full moon rose over the ridge known as the Pinnacle.  It was very quiet and very still.  I sat and enjoyed the sight even though I knew I had a thirty minute hike back on a rocky trail illuminated only by my headlamp.

The Native Americans called this full moon the "Strawberry Moon".  People gather at Stonehenge on this day each year.  And it is said the Mayans pushed people off the pyramids on the solstice to appease the gods.  None of that happened at Hawk Mountain last night - it was just another routine sunset and moonrise.

I hope you all got out and saw this special event.

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I was riding my bike on my normal training loop and spotted a fresh field of hay. I've ridden past this field of hay very often but on this early summer day it must have been just right. The rows of grass moving in the wind with the fuzzy seed tops caught my eye enough for me to make a mental note to return later in the day.  The field faced west so I also knew the low, early evening sunlight would hit it perfectly.

Early evening came and my inner voice reminded me about the possibility of a nice photograph. But by then, I was relaxing in a chair on the patio enjoying the best part of a warm, breezy summer day.  I rationalized that it was windy and so the pictures probably wouldn't come out good - maybe tomorrow. There's always tomorrow. My inner voice said "Get out of the chair!"  I resisted... I'm in the middle of a good book and I love reading outside. And besides, I did a three mile walk, cut the grass, and did an eighteen mile bike ride. I wasn't lazy today.  Again... "Get out of the chair!".  I shifted in the chair to silence that voice since it's so hard to read when you are distracted. I kept reading to the point where blinking becomes very slow - almost indistinguishable from sleep - only to be awakened by "Get out of the chair!"  

This time, for some reason, I listened and sprang out of the chair and raced the car to the field I saw earlier in the day. There was only about 30 minutes of good light left and I started photographing quickly. I ended up with a couple pictures that I really liked. They are the kind of pictures I want to do more of - as much about line and color and shape as they are about the "thing" being photographed. I was glad I got out of the chair!

(Historical Note... If FSA photographer Dorothea Lange had not followed her inner voice and turned her truck around and drove 19 miles back to the sign for the "pea pickers camp", we would not have one of the most impactful photographs ever!)

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This is what late spring looks like after weeks of sometimes warm, endlessly overcast, and often rainy weather.  The eastern forest is a wet, deep green color punctuated by white blooms.  I've always liked the way dogwood trees look in the wild - odd shaped splotches of white among the deep green leaves of the forest.  This year, the dogwoods appeared especially vibrant - the white ones in the wild along with the white and pink trees found in suburban landscapes.

Have you noticed the distinctive look of the flowers on the dogwood tree - especially when they first bud out?  All the flowers seem to sit on top of the branches.  The flowers are like small cups opening upward from the branches below.  It seems orderly compared to the haphazard blooms on other spring trees.

I noticed this small section of woods while Marilyn and I were on our way to dinner one night.  We've driven by it a hundred times or more.  But this time the light was dim, everything was a wet deep green - except for the white that jumped out and caught our eye.  I went back the next morning, and wandered around in a light drizzle in this small section of woods, hoping to capture the feeling of dogwoods in spring!

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When I left my house in the morning, it was the height of Spring.  Tulips of every variety replaced the daffodils which had already faded away.  And the magnolia, plum, and pear trees gave up the spring blooming responsibility to the dogwoods and flowering crab apples.  There was color everywhere!  Bright green new leaves were on many of the trees where only two weeks ago white and pink blooms caught your eye.  And the forecast called for bright clouds - a perfect day to photograph the waterfalls amid the fresh green and blooming color of Spring at Ricketts Glen.

There was only one problem - Spring had not yet reached Ricketts Glen!  I knew there was a small difference in temperature, weather, and seasons between my home and Ricketts Glen.  But when I got there, it looked like I had stepped back three to four weeks in time - maybe more.  There was no hint of green on the tall hardwood trees and the dominant color was the brown of last season's leaves - accented by the light grey of the water reflecting the bright cloudy sky coming easily through the forest canopy.

I did see a few early flowering shrubs, but I could count them on two hands.  So, it was time to focus on rocks and water again (sorry Bill G!).  And I guess you'll know where I'll be three to four weeks from now and what the May Blog post might be!

Happy Spring!

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I took advantage of a mid-50's weekend in March (courtesy of El Nino again!) and did some hiking along a stream in the Pocono Mountains.  I had photographed some water reflections on the same stream this past autumn and I wanted to see how different the colors would be in the winter - or even if there were any colors.  Not surprisingly, the colors were not as vivid as they were in October.  But there were interesting patterns and I carefully framed the photograph looking for the best combination of colors and swirls.

And when I viewed the image on the back of the camera to see if the exposure was correct, I couldn't believe what I saw.  I certainly didn't see the face in the water when I made the photograph.  I quickly looked back into the viewfinder and there it was - and then it was gone - and then it was back again.  The moving water made it flicker in and out of existence.  Was it really there?  Did it really exist?  It was a little strange to be honest!

The photo sequence below gives you an idea of what I saw in the viewfinder.  These are three sequential images with the camera in exactly the same spot on the tripod.  First the face is there, then it disappears with only a trace of features remaining, and then it starts to come back.  I can still remember the strangeness of it.

There is a road along the stream where these photographs were taken.  I'm guessing less than 10% of the people who drive that road ever get out and walk along the stream.  And I believe less than 10% have truly looked closely at the water to see the shapes and colors that swirl about.  And maybe nobody has ever seen the face in the stream!  It reminds me of why I photograph - I do it to look more closely, to see things I might otherwise not see, and to share them with friends and family.

Enjoy!

Fifteen years ago today, on March 12, 2001, I took my first photograph with a digital camera.  It was an Olympus 3040Z pocket size digital camera with an amazing 4 megapixels of image quality.  At the time, it was simply amazing.  It made photography magical again.

It also marked the beginning of my second phase of photography.  I can remember my interest in cameras at a young age and looking back at old high school yearbooks I see evidence that photography was a major interest of mine.  But then college came, and then work, my wonderful wife and kids, responsibilities, and other interests.  And I forgot about photography.  That is until I learned about this new technology of image sensors and megapixels.

After fifteen years, much practice, many trips in the field to photograph, lots of reading, and too much money spent on equipment - my enjoyment of photography is stronger than ever.  Looking at the photograph today makes me cringe a little - it's just a picture of a pine cone.  The composition is poor and about the only thing it communicates is the idea that I like the outdoors.  I feel my photography is much better today than it was back then.  Years ago, I photographed "things" that caught my interest.  Now I try to photograph "ideas" or "visual feelings" that I want to share with people.  I'm not always successful - the lure of photographing a beautiful sunset and sharing it with friends and family is strong.  But that is the fun of photography!

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Hawk Mountain sits in Northern Berks County in Pennsylvania - along the Blue Mountains and the Appalachian Trail.  It's a world renowned sanctuary for the protection and study of raptors - hawks, eagles, and other birds of prey.  It also happens to be fifteen minutes from where I grew up.  So I come here often to photograph - at different seasons and under different conditions.

Hawk Mountain is not a wilderness area.  A fifteen minute drive in all directions will reveal farmlands and small towns.  And on weekends in the fall it can be crowded on the lookouts.  But if you get here early in the morning, you can have the mountain to yourself.  Walk a few steps on the trails and it feels like you are in nature as it was hundreds of years ago.  

That feeling is amplified on a misty, foggy morning - when the height of the ridges is just enough to rise into the low layer of clouds.  All you hear is the constant dripping of water from the soggy trees and branches overhead and an occasional brush of breeze.  Today is not a day for looking out over the many rock outcroppings that make the mountain famous - unless you enjoy staring at a blank, white, slightly disorienting view.  Today is a day for moving slow, listening, and for appreciating the mystery of the trees and rocks and trails as they are enveloped by constantly shifting fog.  Hours of quiet hiking and mesmerizing scenes are there for anyone willing to get up early on a foggy winter day.

See the full photo essay here... A Foggy Morning on Hawk Mountain.

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So much for the warmth of El Nino here in the Northeast.  This past weekend brought the area's first snow of the winter - and in grand fashion.  Between two and three feet of light fluffy snow blanketed the entire region.

I didn't brave the full strength of the storm with my camera on Friday night or Saturday.  Like many people, we stayed inside and read a book or watched a movie.  It's interesting how many people were looking forward to being locked inside for a day with all obligations cancelled.  The storm provided what we're often unable to give ourselves - a relaxing weekend day with nothing to do.

While the storm was a full raging Nor'easter on Friday and Saturday, we awoke on Sunday to that special feeling of a sunny day after a snowstorm.  The sky is impossibly clear and blue.  The sun is bright and warms your face even though it is only 32 degrees.  There is no wind - everything feels calm, still, and quiet under the blanket of snow.  And, if you are up early enough, no tracks anywhere - just an expanse of smooth white snow.

After digging out, I spent a little time photographing at the Unami Creek.  I found out how hard it is to climb down a 20 foot bank filled with three feet of drifted snow - only slightly less hard than climbing back up!

The image above comes the closest to conveying that "feeling" of the day after the storm.  The landscape is simplified.  The mounds of snow only give hints at what is underneath.  There are so many shades of white in a snowy landscape - and the shadows are unmistakably blue.  Next time it snows more than a foot - get up early, go outside, and really see and feel what is out there.

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The photograph above is from my "Second Annual December Hawk Mountain Hike".  Yes, I know it's a young tradition, but everything has to start somewhere.  Hard to believe this image was taken on a December day - not a snowflake in sight in the air or on the ground.  Compare this to the lead image in the blog entry from a year ago in exactly the same place - the North Lookout of Hawk Mountain!

If you are reading this in the Northeastern part of the US, you know by now that we are in the middle of a strong El Nino.  We've worn shorts in November and December, we've cut the grass in December, and we haven't stopped cooking on the grill or bicycling.  I say bring on El Nino every year!

I grew up about fifteen minutes from Hawk Mountain and over the last five years it has become one of my favorite places to visit, hike, and photograph.  I visit in all seasons of the year and each time it looks different.  The light on the skyline trail in winter with no leaves on the trees is completely different than in spring.  I have a Hawk Mountain Gallery of images posted and will add to it over the coming months and years.  Have a look at the gallery and enjoy some images from all seasons on Hawk Mountain.

This also marks exactly two years of my website and blogging.  Twenty four months without missing a single one.  Some months it gets close to feeling like "work" as the deadline approaches.  But it has caused me to photograph more regularly rather than just occasional trips to far off places.  

I hope you have enjoyed the two years and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!

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And here is a little extra bit of information. ..

Hawk Mountain recently conducted a photography contest and I thought I would enter just for the fun of it.  Turns out, the image at right won first pace in the Scenics category.

It is shown on their Facebook page and will be printed along with the other winning photographs and hung in a small exhibit at the Hawk Mountain Visitor Center starting late January!

Link to entire Hawk Mountain Gallery here.

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I think trees are so much more interesting to look at when there are no leaves on them.  And while I prefer the warm weather of summer for almost everything I do, I prefer winter days to photograph trees.

This is a tree of I have seen hundreds of times.  It is on my normal bicycling loop and every time I pass it, I marvel at how tall it is, how it twists and spreads out against the sky.  And in the winter, the low sun angle lights up the stark white branches of the sycamore against the deep blue sky.  On a recent ride I decided I had to make the time and come back and photograph it.

The day I made this photograph was the best of both worlds - a warm 63 degrees on the day after Thanksgiving.  And while I was photographing I came to learn that others have noticed this tree also.  The man who lives across the street offered to let me photograph from his driveway if I wanted a different angle.  He told me this tree has been in Pennsylvania Magazine multiple times.  A woman in an SUV slowed down along the road and proclaimed her admiration for the tree.  And I could overhear the word "tree" and "amazing" in two conversations among runners taking advantage of the beautiful warm November day.

What word would you use to describe this image of the Sycamore?  Stately?  Majestic?  Grand?  Those words were what I had in mind.  My daughter Amy's first reaction was "creepy".  I guess everyone gets their own interpretation!

Happy Thanksgiving!

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I just can't help it.  I really enjoy photographing water - and I especially like photographing water in motion.  I spent a weekend in October doing some hiking and photographing in the Pocono Mountains of PA.  I timed the color almost perfectly in the Poconos.  

After a day of hiking I stopped by a stream and waterfalls in Childs Park - part of the Delaware Water Gap area.  It was late in the day but the colors were great, so I decided to come back the next day and get there earlier so I would have more time. My plan was to start in the park and hike upstream and see where it led me.  I never got out of the park.  In fact, I spent about five hours in a section of stream that was probably not more than 100 yards long.  I must have been a good sight too - black rubber wading boots up to an inch below my knees and shorts down to an inch above my knees.

Normally when I photograph water, I include some anchor point, like a rock or leaves.  In many of the photographs that day, I went for a more abstract look and eliminated any anchor point.  And when I took the photographs above, I had in mind the idea of combining three images together with different patterns and a similar color palette.

I didn't expect much from the fall colors this year since it was so dry during the summer.  But I found lots of color, went hiking and photographing five days during the month of October at places like Ricketts Glen, The Poconos, Hawk Mountain, and the Unami Creek - and loved every minute of it.  I have a few more photographs I may share in a final autumn blog post.  

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Most people know that I am a "planner" - I seldom leave anything to chance.  It's helps me in my job and it's hard to turn it off when I am not at work.  So it wouldn't surprise anyone to know that I planned my latest trip to Ricketts Glen perfectly.  You need cloudy weather for great waterfall photography, and last Friday was the perfect forecast - cloudy, slight chance of showers late in the day, no wind (can't have the leaves moving) and the thunderstorms were only supposed to form far south of the park.

I'm a bit of a worrier with lightening (I blame my mom) and I'm sometimes concerned about being on the trail, hours from the car and any shelter, when a storm comes.  The showers arrived on schedule and unfortunately so did some thunder.  I cowered under a rock overhang - I mean I stood defiantly under a rock overhang only so my camera gear would not get wet - and waited out the storm.  It wasn't much of a storm.  And when I calmed down a little I started looking around.  And I saw this one leaf - at the very end of a branch - getting pelted by the rain shower.  The background was made by the distant trees with different color leaves and I thought it might be one of the best images of the day.

The lesson... be open to whatever situation presents itself.  Make the best of whatever you have.  If I hadn't had to wait out the short storm under the rock overhang, I would never have seen this leaf or made this image.

Oh, and I learned one other lesson that day.  Never eat Mexican food for dinner two nights in a row before an all day hike - not good!

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Summer officially ended about a week ago.  And while it was a long great summer, I really didn't want to see it end.  We didn't travel to far off locations, we didn't even take a family vacation.  But it was a very special summer.  Both our daughters graduated - one from college and one from high school.  While Gina was preparing for college, Amy was studying for the CPA and preparing for work.  We spent a lot of time together, practically lived and ate every meal outside on the deck, and just enjoyed the slow pace of summer as it unfolded for us.

The image above reminds me of the summer that just ended.  It's a simple photograph;  it was a simple summer.  It's a photograph that I enjoy viewing and makes me feel calm; it was a summer that I enjoy viewing in my memory and makes me content.  

Ironically enough, I took the image above on our first weekend as "empty-nesters".  My roommate from college came to visit and it was a throwback to thirty years ago when Rich, Marilyn, and I had just graduated from college and we would embark on weekend adventures.

It was a great summer - and I hope you all had as nice a summer as we had !

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It's back to the Unami Creek again.  This is the fourth blog post in three different seasons for this small creek ten minutes away from my home.  You won't find the Unami Creek on any list of National Parks or even State Parks - but this small creek with the large boulders and sycamore lined banks is a great place to explore and spend an afternoon.  I can't wait to do some fall hiking and photography on the creek.

One Saturday earlier this summer, Gina and I packed a lunch and went to the Unami.  We hiked out onto a flat boulder in the middle of the creek and enjoyed our lunch, the sounds of the flowing water, and the view.  A couple weeks later we took a blanket and a book, found a different giant rock, and spent two hours reading on the stream.

A week later my friend Rich came for a visit.  After a bike ride and three hours of kayaking, we hiked the Unami Creek.  We had to climb large rocks, jump from one boulder to another, and backtrack to get from one side of the stream to the other.  We climbed, sat and enjoyed the sounds, took pictures, and hiked some more.  We hiked the rocks up the stream for three hours and what seemed like miles.  Imagine our surprise when we walked back along the road to the car and it took only 7 minutes!

The creek has turned into a local favorite place for me and it proves you can see something different in the same place every time you visit.  Enjoy!

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When we travel to a far-off place or an exotic location, we change how we see.  We are tuned in to every detail in the landscape - everything seems new, exciting, and fresh.  I remember seeing a farmer thrashing hay in a field at the foot of the Alps on our family vacation to Europe two years ago.  I remember being amazed at the patterns and lines the fresh cut hay made in the field.  And I remember seeing the details of the tractor and the farmer driving it.  I took countless photos.  Earlier this week on my bike ride I went past the same scene 15 miles from where I live (minus the Alps of course).  No photos, hardly a look, and certainly no slowing down the bike!  And perhaps because I was thinking about this blog post, I realized it was exactly the same scene from two years ago - I just wasn't seeing it the same way.

The images in this post are from Hawk Mountain - 10 minutes from where I grew up.  It can't get more close to home than that.  The image at the top is from two years ago and the images at the bottom are from several trips this month.

My goal has been to make repeated trips to Hawk Mountain and see it as if I had traveled hundreds or thousands of miles to get there.  See it at sunrise as I did this past weekend.  See it at sunset waiting for the full moon to rise over the valley like we did three weeks ago (unfortunately too cloudy for the moon!).  See it in the snow, see it in spring with the mountain laurel in bloom.  See it in autumn with the trees turning red and orange and yellow.  See everything there is to see in this relatively small area of wilderness.  See the exciting in the normal.  

Try picking a place that is close to home for you.  And try seeing it as if you traveled hundreds of miles to get there.  I'd be willing to bet you start to see some things you've been missing for years!

A work-in-progress gallery of images from Hawk Mountain is shown here... Hawk Mountain Gallery.

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I almost never make photographs of flowers.  I look forward to the colors of spring and photographing at that time of year.  But it's just hard for me to bring a unique view to flower photographs.  Then I started thinking, why don't we ever see photographs of flowers in the later stages of life?

Notice I didn't say dead or dying flowers.  I think back to a weekend when a friend visited and somehow we got into a long discussion of when something transitions from living to dying.  With people and animals we almost never refer to them as dying.  We refer to them as living right up to the last moment and we celebrate living right up to the very end.  But with plants and flowers, we're quick to refer to them as dying.  The first brown blades of grass show up in the lawn after three weeks of no rain - and the grass is dying.  We have a vase of flowers on our countertop in the kitchen - and when that first wilted leaf appears Marilyn is ready to throw them out because they are dying.  The Kousa Dogwood blossom in the photograph above is living - it just happens to be in a later stage of life.

I've always said that one of the reasons I enjoy photography is it shows me (and my hopefully my family and friends) things they wouldn't normally see.  Few people, including myself, look at "dying" flowers.  But when you pause and look closely, you will still see the very interesting shapes and forms and lines that make flowers beautiful.  They just happen to have a few brown spots and some curled edges.  In many ways, it makes them even more interesting.