It’s hard to believe 2021 is drawing to a close! It’s been a rewarding year for me, even if it was also a bit atypical. I had some incredible experiences getting up close and personal with truly amazing locations: the Redwoods, the North Cascades, Death Valley, southern Utah, in addition to finally making a long sought after trip to southwest Colorado happen. As usual my wife and son were with me on many of these trips. For a few of the others I was able to meet up with some good friends within the photography community. So thank you to Matt Payne, Kane Engelbert, Paul Bowman, Eric Bennett, Adrian Klein, Sarah Marino, Bryan Swan, and Trevor Anderson. Thanks for all of the laughs, thought provoking conversations, hospitality, adventures, and inspiration. I sincerely hope we get to do it again in 2022!

With that maybe it’s time to pay tribute to 2021 and review a handful of images which did speak to me, and helped me continue down this little journey of mine.

Winter

Snow Globe is a good example of what I consider to be “found” photography, images I had no concept or premonition of before leaving the house (or camp) in the morning. My family joined some friends for a midwinter hike through a rather nondescript and typically uninspiring central Oregon forest. Intermittent snow showers were forecasted for the day, and wind driven clouds continually blocked then revealed the sun creating dynamic lighting conditions in their wake. This at least gave me a reason to grab my camera and a single lens for the outing. I didn’t expect to find something interesting enough to actually photograph. As we hiked brief yet intense snow squalls passed, almost always blocked by sun dampening clouds. Then conditions kind of all aligned at once — sun and heavy snow occurring simultaneously. This bit of magic lasted probably thirty seconds, just enough time to quickly find a composition before firing off a few exposures. It’s this sort of image, which materializes seemingly out of no where, which leaves me with a lot of energy and keeps me motivated to keep pushing deeper.

Another “found” image. The destination for this day was a dune field within Death Valley National Park. High winds were blasting the dunes, creating just the conditions I had wanted to work with for several years. As I parked my car a large bank of stratocumulus clouds snuffed out the light, a critical ingredient. A stood by my car weighing whether to subject myself and my gear to being sand blasted for a few hours or pack it in and head somewhere else. The latter option won out. The route back to my rental house in a nearby town climbs over five thousand feet. The temperature dropped and snow began falling, even though it was 73 degrees at the dunes when I left. A dusting accumulated in the higher hills creating, for me at least, a unique experience. Joshua Trees dot the landscape in this section of the park and I knew their solitary forms would be a perfect element to add to the scene. A quick stop, a few releases of the shutter, then back down to town. The frame is not technically perfect (a result of me not wanting to bother getting the tripod out), but the slight softness works well enough in my eyes.

This image came at the end of a day filled with a frustrating series of events, chief among them a flat tire which occurred in a random place. Too long of of a story to recount here. So, with our car rolling on a newly installed donut tire, my family and I were determined to make the most of the last hours of the day. I’ve photographed this area of badlands a couple of times, but never felt like I did them any justice. A clear sky allowed soft glowing light to spill over the eroded formations creating good conditions to photograph a scene like this. After wandering around for a while I finally noticed this composition. A long focal length compressed the various ridges in a way which allowed each to carry a nearly equal amount of visual weight. This was the last composition of the evening before heading back to camp. In the dying light I quickly stowed my camera gear, folded the tripod, then walked back to the car with my family, marveling at the bizarre geologic wonder quickly falling into darkness. A sweet, soul soothing memory after such a stressful day.

Spring

An aerial photography trip over the northern Cascade range has been near the top of my bucket list for several years now. This past April my friend Paul Bowman finally made it happen. Shooting aerials has a steep learning curve since you’re photographing from a fast moving, constantly vibrating plane. By mid-flight I had some techniques at least half way dialed in. Using a high shutter speeds is essential, a task made more difficult in the dimming late afternoon light. High ISO’s were the name of the game. The ninety minutes we were up there went by quickly, my focus completely immersed by the spectacular mountain terrain speeding past the planes window. Just as sunset color started really lighting up the higher peaks the sun dropped below a layer of clouds. I managed to capture a couple images before it did, including the one showcased above. A return trip is hopefully going to happen in 2022.

A good photography friend stayed at my house for a few days before and after he led a workshop in Olympic National Park. On one of the days we tossed around ideas to go photography locally but I couldn’t really think of anything exciting. He suggested this semi-well known waterfall in Mount Hood National Forest and it made perfect sense. It just felt right to go there. I hadn’t been there in several years but knew the place held potential for images. When we arrived at the falls there were people EVERYWHERE! It’s super hard for me to get into the right frame of mind when other people are around. Soon I found myself in a pattern of stepping forward for ten or so minutes, making some images, then retreating to the back of the crowd to steel myself for another foray. The scene was interesting enough and light conditions gave us just enough to make me forget so many others were around. This image was my favorite from the outing, and is on the shortlist of images I enjoy most from the past year.

In May I jumped at the chance to make the drive down to the Redwoods to connect with two Colorado based photography friends. I had visions of dense fog, glorious light, and prime spring greens. Only thing I found was prime green springs. Most days were clear so photography was mostly confined to morning and later in the afternoons. I’m more patient these days, accept the conditions given and find ways to make images. In fact, photographing during non-”prime” conditions is a sure way to push out of your creative comfort zone. It forces you to reimagine how you put together images and in the process expands what are creative mind believes to be possible. This image, conceptually not especially unique, was captured during less than stellar lighting conditions for forest photography. Minimal clouds, a high sun, and penetrating light all combined for high contrast photography. Compose anyway, expose for the most important highlights, let the background fall in to darkness. Simple concept and rather easy to pull off but surprising that many miss seeing this opportunity because of some preconceived notion of what constitutes “good” light for forest photography .

Summer

This summer my family and I spent two weeks on the road hitting various locations in Utah and SW Colorado. Our second stop was the canyon lands of eastern Utah. It was hot, 104 degree hot, so we forked over money for a hotel in a nearby town. I had no plans on photographing anything, but the forecast and cloud set up were too good not to make a last second run to Dead Horse State Park. The light and colors that afternoon were special. An intense sunset spread out over the huge canyon, even a rainbow arched into the deepest part of the canyon. The whole scene was one of those exhilarating, uncommon moments nature lovers dream of experiencing. As I worked my way along the canyon rim looking for a good angle to shoot the display I decided to take a quick glance behind me. A cluster of boulders and trees were lit up with the purest, most welcoming warm red color I’ve seen, complimented above by the deep blues of a threatening sky. This color combination instantly made me forget about the canyon. Behind me was the real show. As often is the case the light faded after just a few minutes. The image above of a lone tree which resembled an archer drawing his arrow with bow outstretched was the only one I was able to photograph. But it works, at least for me.

So, some thoughts on the decision to not photograph an extraordinary sky and color display over the iconic Dead Horse State Park. Having photographed enough intense color displays over the years I felt the intense color would so dominate the image that the nature, composition, details would be lost. The image would undoubtedly be about the sky, not the nature before me. Contrasted against the image above, which feels focused and complete with its beautiful warm to cool color transition, textured sky, and suggestive “figurine”, my decision feels sound. One small example of the valuable roll experience plays.

The last stop on our summer trip was Capitol Reef National Park. I’ve visited or driven through this park a dozen times. It impresses me more each time. Even though I often strain my neck up at the high sandstone walls, I find the park’s trees most interesting. It’s curious to be surrounded by such geologic wonder only to focus almost entirely on trees which provide little hint of their dramatic setting. This particular visit to Capitol Reef was my first during the summer months. I prefer photographing the skeletal forms of the park’s cottonwoods and box elders in winter and early spring when their leaves have long dropped and the visually captivating lines of their branches are on full display. How would it work to photograph these trees when flush with summer leaves? I was happy to find that instead of obscuring their form the greens actually added mystery and tension by breaking up the lines formed by branches — a good thing!

Perhaps my personal favorite image from 2021. The ghostly and imposing figure of Mount Rainier rising above the foothills of the southern Cascade mountains. Mount Rainier has played a significant role in my life, in fact it’s on the shortlist of reasons why I decided to move to the Pacific Northwest twenty five years ago. In the intervening years I’ve hiked and backpacked in the park untold numbers of times, including backpacking the 93 mile long Wonderland trail which circles the mountain and climbing to its icy crown five times. Mount Rainier was even the place my wife and I first started to make a connection beyond mere friendship. To this day seeing the massive bulk of Rainier from any vantage creates a feeling seeing friend who knows me just as well as I know them. Rainier is a place I’ll return to for as long as I’m alive.

Autumn

Those of you who follow my work my have seen some images of the oak forests of Washington and Oregon. Much like their wetter, more moss and lichen laden western counterparts, these drier forest are a challenge to photograph. They’re often convoluted and the ground cover is often lackluster or barren, making it often necessary to remove it from any composition. What I find does work well is a tighter framing focused of the character-filled branches. This image was created during prime fall color. Burnt orange and yellows were most common but this section of woodland also contained some nice reds, punctuated by pale lichen. After struggling for an hour or more I noticed this colorful cross section of forest and immediately knew it would be my favorite images from the day. It’s busy and a bit convoluted, but my eye finds these chaotic yet simultaneously organized images to be visually striking and challenging in a good way.

Some Behind the Scenes videos and images from the 2020