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Entries about photography

The Long Road to Idaho: The Montana Sessions

Breakfast of Champions, Ten Degree Air Temperature, The Boiling River Hot Springs, To Idaho

sunny 10 °F

Saturday February 4th: Elk, Hot Springs, Bozeman, and a Return to Idaho

I woke up before 6 a.m. It seemed excessively early, but I got up anyway. My plan was to head down to Yellowstone national park to take a soak in the Boiling River hot spring. I left just after six, stopping at McDonald’s for coffee, and a grocery store bakery for some donuts. It was a breakfast that I have researched extensively. I have run many trial tests, and have decided that this combination meets my high standards for my nutritional needs.

I was heading south, flying fast through the Yellowstone Valley, the sky lightened closer to dawn. A large range of mountains to the east blocked any chance at seeing the sunrise. I listened to my book, sipped my coffee, and I felt good. I love road trips, and my van (Marvin, who is a she) and I have traveled these roads many times. It is to the point where I can say to her, “Marvin! Go to Montana!” and she will take off heading west, smoothly and sweetly. I think she likes road trips as much as I do.

I reached Yellowstone National Park just as the sun was edging over the mountains. A crisp white light lit up the elk eating their breakfast on the distant hillside. I pulled out my national parks pass, showed it to the ranger, and proceeded on into the park.
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I drove slow, watching the foraging elk for a while, before driving to the trailhead to the hot spring. I parked, noting that the temperature was 10 degrees (F), grabbed my backpack, zipped my keys inside and headed up the trail.
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For as many times as I had been here, I’ve never brought my camera. Today is the day to remedy that, and I pull out my camera to photograph my way up the trail. It isn’t long before my fingers are frozen. It is COLD out. My thin down jacket isn’t enough, and I realize that I really didn’t dress properly for the cold. Not a big deal, but I know that I would not last long if I had to spend a lot of time out in the cold. I pick up the pace, and as I near the pools, I see a huge billowing cloud of steam emanating from them. I hike the last 200 yards, rounding around the seep in the earth where the Boiling River emerges from the earth.
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The billowing steam inundates everything, and a thick hoar frost has formed on the boardwalk, wooden rails, and grasses around the river. It’s very beautiful and fragile. I compose a few photos, before my frozen body cannot take anymore, and I head to the first pool. The first pool is in my mind the best pool. For one, it is close to the trail, and when you visit in 10-degree weather, it’s good to be close to the pool. Secondly, it is a lot warmer than the lower pools. Actually, that is not quite right, the lower pools are very nice, but they have more flow from the Gardner River, which sends more cold currents through those pools.
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I strip down. My body is cold, and very clammy to the touch. I’m shivering, and my fingers have lost their dexterity. I manage to get down to my shorts, decide to leave my beanie on my head, and step into the pool. It’s very painful. It hurts, and I have to sit on a rock and pull my legs out of the hot water. I realize that there is probably a hundred degree difference between the air temperature and water temperature. I dip my toes tentatively, and then my ankles finally my knees. I can stand the heat, and I wade out to a good sitting spot and begin to lower myself in.

My first thought, is that this feels amazing. I love hot springs, and this one has always been one of my favorites. Then my nerve center in my chest seems to flicker, like a slight interruption in electric service, and I think to myself that this might not be such a good idea. It feels like there is a thunderstorm going on in my body, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Hot springs are known for their therapeutic properties, but this seems a little extreme. I figure I either added three years to my life, or took away five. I’m still not sure.
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It was a good soak. I wanted to stay until the first rays of sun hit me, but it was not to be. The conditions were too extreme to last a long time. Either I was overheating, boiled like a potato, or frozen solid. My arm hair would freeze if I left it out of the water for too long. I planned my moves, and got out of the spring. I dried off, put on my socks, boots, shirt and jacket. I left my wet shorts on, as I had planned to change in the van. The park service prohibits nudity at this spring, and it was just as well. I probably would have fallen over trying to hop into my underwear and froze instantly to the ground. Not a pleasant thought.

I began to walk back to the van. My shorts froze. They became a solid chunk of ice that began to wear against my thighs. It hurt, and I realized I probably was going to get frostbitten on my legs if I didn’t hurry up. I looked around for buffalo, and didn’t see any. This was a relief, because I really didn’t want to have to either wait on them to move off the trail, or bi-pass around them.

I saw a bird fly out to a rock in the middle of a river. It was a small bird, and I knew it had to be an American Dipper. For some reason, I see a lot of Dippers here on the Gardner, almost every time I visit. This one seemed to be showing me up, as it took a sip, and then dunked its entire body into the freezing river water before emerging and doing it a second time. I think that its chirping had an offensive tone to it, probably calling me a pansy.

I got back to the van, and changed into my warmest clothes. I put on long johns, jeans, my wool socks, and my Nepali wool sweater with reindeer dancing across the chest. I jumped into the driver’s seat, and pondered my next move. I decided to go to Bozeman to get a bite to eat before I knuckled down and drove the last stretch of highway that separated me from my destination.

I stopped in Bozeman, and was really looking forward to eating at my favorite restaurant. When I pulled in there was a sign that said they were not open until 4 pm. Damn! I opted for Burger Bob’s, which “offers same day service. At Burger Bob’s you get the food you ordered the day you order it.” I can appreciate a man with a sense of humor. I had a burger and a beer (I’m such a dude), and headed back onto the highway. It was a beautiful day to burn some rubber. The sky was blue, and the sun was out. There before me lay hundreds of miles of high plains valleys and mountains. My chariot was running smooth, and a ribbon of asphalt was my golden ticket. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

I drove to Kellogg, Idaho some two hundred miles distant. I met my landlord, and moved into my new temporary home. I turned my thoughts to skiing, and settled in for the night.

Posted by Rhombus 18:31 Archived in USA Tagged birds rivers hiking photography trails yellowstone hotsprings montana roadtrips Comments (0)

The Long Road to Idaho: The North Dakota Sessions

North Dakota's Frozen Splendor, A Twelve Hour Drive

semi-overcast 27 °F

Friday, February 3rd: North Dakota’s Frozen Splendor, American Road Trip Realities

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Who knew North Dakota could be so beautiful? Well, in truth, I did, and this morning proved it once again. I had left my hotel at 8 a.m. It was still gloomy, the fog still hasn’t burned off. The air is cold and fresh. The parking lot is a little slick, and I step into the driver’s seat and settle in. I stop for a cup of coffee, set up my mp3 player to listen to a book, and head out onto the freeway.

After a snork or two of coffee, and a few miles later, I really start enjoying the view. It is beautiful out! The fog has frozen onto everything, leaving everything encrusted in a thin layer of delicate frost. The thick mist still holds over the prairie, and the crispy grass and rolling landscape lines fade off into the clouds.
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I am enthralled. I take the first exit that I can, and pull over on a small dirt frontage road. I grab my camera, and step out into the cold. I see a barbwire fence covered in frost. I set up a few photos with the fence as my leading line that leads to the dull gold glow of the rising sun obscured by the fog. It is glorious.
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I love starting my day with a good morning photo shoot. I jump back in the van and drive along the dirt road. I see a grove of trees on my left, and in them resides a cemetery. I pull over, get out and begin exploring the trees for possible angles. The frost has softened the world, giving the landscape a sepia like feel to it. I spend twenty minutes out in the cold, and my hands are freezing by the time I get back in the van.
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I drive back to the freeway, and accelerate back onto I-90 west. It isn’t long before the sun breaks through the thick fog, and above me, a bright blue sky is forming above the clouds. It is too much for me to take, and I get off on the next exit. Just south of the freeway are long rows of cottonwood trees. Cottonwoods are among my favorite trees, commonly found along the streambeds of the American west. They are huge trees. They have charisma and charm in their trunks and branches. I find they often photograph very well.
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I head south along a crunchy frozen farm road and take in the magical landscapes all around me. It’s beautiful. The crisp white branches of the cottonwoods made for a pleasant contrast with the high blue sky of northern winter. For the first time in three days, the sun came out, and brought a cheerful brightness to the long landscapes. I got out of the van, and began walking up and down the road, composing and shooting, thoroughly enjoying my impromptu photo shoot.
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Satisfied, I saddled up once again, retraced my way to the freeway and headed west. I made one more stop at a rest area to use the loo, but after that, I didn’t make any recreational stops for the rest of the day.
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For those of you who have never driven across America, let me say that America is huge. I drove for 11 hours today, and covered 630 miles. I’m still almost 500 miles away from my destination. Most of this distance will be crossing the broad plains and river valleys that weave between the “island” mountain ranges of western Montana.

I bring this up, because I as an advisor on TravellersPoint for the United States, I often get asked how long it will take to drive across the country. There are many people who have three weeks of time to spend in America, and they want to see everything. I have to tell them that they are going to be spending a lot of time in a car. That’s where I was at today, burning up the miles, listening to two books and music in between. Today I listened to “The Day of the Jackal” by Frederick Forsythe and “The Atlantic” by Simon Winchester. Both are very good books.
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Eventually the boredom set in, and I let my mind wander. I tried talking to my manatee who is riding shotgun on this trip. He seemed more interested in looking out the window than conversation, and I eventually left him in his brooding silence. I don’t think North Dakota has much to offer a manatee, and I suppose that is why he was so gloomy.

I sang along with my music, I yodeled, I took pictures, I ate cheese and crackers for a snack, and had a bologna sandwich for lunch. Steady Rolling. I rambled on, and on, and on. I passed through an entire weather system, crossing underneath a cloud that stretched for 450 miles between central North Dakota and Billings, Montana. I watched the sunset, and was almost blinded by the intense last light of day that lined up perfectly with the road ahead of me.

At dusk, I still had another hundred miles to go, and I figured out my plan for the next couple of days. I've decided to stop my photo shoots every 100 miles. I would still be in North Dakota if I kept that up. I like the idea a lot, but it isn't worth it on this trip.

Tomorrow, I’m going to take a detour off the beaten path, and head down into Yellowstone National Park. I want to soak in a hot spring, and I know just where to find one.

“The enjoyment of an idle life doesn’t cost any money…It must come from an inner richness of the soul in a man who loves the simple ways of life and who is somewhat impatient with the business of making money.”
~ Lin Yutang

Posted by Rhombus 21:37 Archived in USA Tagged trees winter landscape driving roads ice photography frost philosophy fences roadtrips Comments (0)

The Long Journey to Idaho: The Minnesota Sessions

A Photo Shoot Every 100 Miles, The Power of Pizza, Abandoned Parks in Mist, Asleep at the Wheel

overcast 31 °F

Wednesday February 1st - A Photo Shoot Every 100 Miles, Friends

While traveling south along Minnesota state highway 23, I noticed my odometer was nearing 210,000 miles. An idea popped into my head to make this trip more interesting, and I decided to stop every 100 hundred miles and make a photo shoot of whatever was there. I became excited about the idea, and when the odometer turned, I slowed down and found a safe place to park on side of the road. I stepped out, and began looking at my options. As it was, it was a very gray, overcast day in Minnesota, and a feeling of contented quiet held over the entire state from the shores of Lake Superior in Duluth, all the way down to the suburbs of St. Paul.
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I stepped into a low lying wetland area, looking at the puffy tubes of cattails, and found my shot.

Mileage 210,000: "Cattails" Somewhere in Pine Co. Mn
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Satisfied, I climbed back into the van and headed south another hundred miles, which happened to be a small roadside park near Lake Josephine in the northern suburbs of St. Paul. I became enamored with the oak trees that resided on a small hill, and found my new lens to be just the thing to take pictures of the dried oak leaves still on the trees.

Mileage 210,100: "Oak Leaves" Near Lake Josephine, MN
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I found my friends in St. Paul. We spent the day hanging out, enjoying good conversation, with a field trip to the Como Park Greenhouse, and Como Lake. The greenhouse was so beautiful, full of flowery scents and reminders of the warm greens of summer. After our lark, we returned to the house. In the evening, I made homemade pizza, and we spent a wonderful evening talking, eating delicious (if I do say so myself) pizza, and drinking wine. It was such a good day.

Flower Detail
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Pizza Party
I love making pizza. I also love making pizza for other people when i'm travelling. If you like pizza, and meeting roving vagabonds, drop me an invite, and I might bake you a pizza!
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Thursday February 2nd - Oh, Brother! Freezing Fog and a Sleepy Driver

I woke up very early, slipping out of the cool, dark house well before sun up. It was dark, and very foggy out, a moist heavy feeling to the air. I started up the van, and rolled out heading westerly to the small town of St. Michael, MN. My brother Karl resides there, and as I have not spent much time with him lately, I was excited to take in his company.
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After getting some tea from the local coffee shop, we drove out to a small park on Lake Beebe. Soon we were wandering around in the airy mists, of an abandoned park. Karl and I are quite close, and it wasn’t long before we were lost in compelling conversation. We discussed the park, girls, the beauty of mist, the good air we were breathing, brain exercises, the stupidity of television, three year plans, the beauty of the trees we were walking around, cutting a moat around an ice fisherman’s shack as a practical joke, the sick system that is American politics, good sitting spots, how hungry we were (which we soon remedied), Artificial Intelligence, and other nonsense.
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We went back to his house so I could get my long board skateboard, and after awhile, I said, “Seeya later, Bub.” And with that, I drove away. I hadn’t driven very far, when I realized that I was very sleepy, and I really had to use the bathroom. As I had planned to drive well into North Dakota, my sleepiness was going to be a problem. I resorted to my old tricks to stay awake: I slapped myself in the face (this doesn’t work), I rolled down the windows, I yelled at myself, and drove on.

Mileage 210,200: "Ice Droplet" Riverside Park, St. Michael, MN
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I finished one book on my mp3 player (Al Capone Does My Shirts) and started another (The Atlantic: by Simon Winchester). I love listening to books while I drive.
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The fog came back just before I crossed into North Dakota. It was beautiful, and completely obscured the sun that was getting low in the sky. Finally, it grew dark, and the temperature gauge read 30 degrees (F). It was just cold enough to allow that fog to start freezing on the roadway and on the van. Not good. I looked at distance signs to the next sign, and it looked like Bismarck was the next major city of any size, and it was another two hours away. I sighed, and went through another round of slapping myself, attempting to stave off sleep for another ten minutes.

Then, I noticed a big billboard on the side of the road advertising a couple miles up the road. There were more of them, and I grew excited. JAMESTOWN! I had forgotten about Jamestown. It was the equivalent of getting out of jail a year early; I happily exited the freeway, and followed the signs to a hotel.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in my room, feeling good about myself. I knew that a hot shower, a delicious dinner of homemade chili and a beer followed by a good long sleep in a quiet bed. Ahh… Is this not happiness?
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The journey continues tomorrow when I take on the western side of North Dakota, and decide on where to play in Montana. Stay Tuned!

Posted by Rhombus 19:35 Archived in USA Tagged trees fog parks ice friends mist photography pizza minnesota roadtrips Comments (0)

The Mexican Saga Continues

Snorkelling At Puerto Escondido, Climbing High on Santa Catalina, More Gorgeous Sunsets, The Morning in Santa Rosalia

semi-overcast 72 °F

A Morning at Puerto Escondido

I have the morning off. I know this, but I get up at 6 am anyway. I love mornings, especially when you don’t have to work. Why would I sleep in? I’m not in Mexico to sleep, and I when I get up to the crew lounge, I find a “Dirty Chai” waiting for me. The early morning crew is taking good care of me.

I sit down, drinking my chai, and finishing a book. It was perhaps the best book I have ever read, and I was quite satisfied.

The dawn came and went. I enjoyed it. I went up to the top deck to stretch out with a bit of yoga and breathing focus. Relaxed, I made my way down to the breakfast table for some vittles and conversation with some of the crew.

It’s warming up a bit, and so I meander my way up to the snorkel lockers and get some gear. My plan is to snorkel right off of the break wall. I had done this last year on the recommendation of the chief mate, and it turned out to be some of the best snorkeling I have experienced. I wanted to go back and see some more.

I walked out to my makeshift launching point, scrambling over the rocks down to the water’s edge. I test the temperature, and it’s cold. I don’t mind. I’m used to cold water, and I put on my fins, secure my snorkel and launch myself into the moment.
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For the next forty minutes, I am lost in a watery world full of interesting characters. I see a wide variety of sea creatures, all of them quite charming in their own way. The beauty of the Cortez rainbow wrasse blew me away. These small fish are beautifully decorated, taking on bright yellows, reds, blues and purples, all glowing brightly under the strong morning sunlight.
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It was safe to say I was quite satisfied with my efforts. I started to shiver. Then I began to shake, and I knew the end of my snorkeling was near. I swam back towards my take out point, I really wanted to stay in the water, but I was frozen.
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I hauled myself out, and sat on the hot black rocks soaking in the sunshine. My shivering began to die down, but I was still quite cold. I decided to get up and go take a shower, and as I crawled back on the dock, I met the security guard. He was a very nice guy, and knew enough English to be able to hold a simplified conversation. We talked of Michigan, snorkeling, and Puerto Escondido. I offered him a cup of coffee, but he preferred a coke. I brought it out to him, wished him a good day.

As the hot water ran over my clammy body, I thought of my morning and smiled. I could get used only working six hours a day.

Santa Catalina High Peaks
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I had a couple of hours of freedom and set my sights on one of the few high points that I hadn’t climbed yet on the southwestern side of Isla Santa Catalina. Looking at the terrain, I opted for a route I hadn’t tried before, walking up a desert wash, climbing to the top of a small ridge that reached up to the shoulder of the mount I wanted to summit. It would be steep, and probably sketchy, but I knew I could make it.
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I love long views from high places. Atop this mount was a clump of cardon cactus, which looked beautiful in the afternoon light.
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The descent was sketchy. I precariously placed my feet hoping that they would hold, because if they didn’t I’d be sliding down with only the spiny arms of a cactus to catch my fall. Not a pleasant thought, but one I was willing to face. I love hiking in a vertical desert world, and besides, I like this kind of thing.

Amazing Sunsets
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When the skies are overcast on the Sea of Cortez, the rising and setting of the sun in an event not to be missed. For three days straight, the coming and going of the sun has been gorgeous. Sure, there are pretty sunsets almost every day, but the addition of a few bands of clouds, increase the beauty exponentially. I was moved, happy to be experiencing these incredible light shows.
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Water and Clouds
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I had a two-hour break to position a zodiac to a deserted beach. It was awesome. I stretched out and did some yoga and breathing exercises, then sat calmly in the water up to my neck. It was very refreshing. I finished my break off by taking a nap on the pontoon of the zodiac for an hour, floating and listening to the water chuff along the rocks. There are some days where they could pay me with sand and I would still go to work.
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Santa Rosalia Mornings
DSC_0078__2_.jpgDSC_0033__2_.jpgSanta Rosalia is a small mining town on the eastern coast of the Sea of Cortez. The mornings here remind me of days long past on Lake Superior. Quiet mornings, a palette of subdued light yellow, pale blue, grays, and white. There were fishermen in the distance, hoping to catch some luck, and a pair of osprey ate their breakfast fifty yards from the boat, perched on a telephone pole. It was a very good morning for photography, at least until the sun broke above the clouds.
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All is well here in Mexico. I have one week left before I turn my sights northward, restocking my toys and heading to the northern Rocky Mountains to ski.
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Posted by Rhombus 18:49 Archived in Mexico Tagged wildlife hiking cactus towns deserts sunsets oceans photography Comments (0)

Project: One Good Photograph A Day

Attempting to capture one good photo, Ocean Scenes, Island Scenes, Desert Scenes, and Dolphins

sunny 73 °F

I like to think I take one good photograph a day. Now, I realize this idea is purely subjective. When I say this, I realize that not everyone would agree with me on what a good photograph would consist of, or agree on my choice of “good” photographs. However, I am the only judge in this competition of self-satisfaction, and so I only have to please myself to place in this contest.

That being said, I offer you my subjects for the past week. I do not take photographs everyday, some days I am either too busy, or nothing of interest caught my eye. On other days, it seems like I take up my camera at dawn and set it down after sunset. This week, there were only two days that I didn’t take out my camera, and so offer other satisfying pictures I captured to balance out my week.

These photos are of various subjects on the Sea of Cortez, east of the peninsula of Baja California Sur.

LONG BILLED DOWITCHER
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I was strolling along the boardwalk near the beach one early morning after work. The human-like early birds of La Paz were all out, walking, jogging, biking or sitting. La Paz is a friendly city, and I nodded to a lot of people, offering a sincere, “Buen Dias” and receiving the same with a smile in return. The sidewalk neared the edge of the sea, and I noticed this Long Billed Dowitcher foraging for its morning meal. I stopped at a bench, took out my camera, and took this photo of the bird.

ON THE CUSP OF SHADOW AND LIGHT
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I had spent the afternoon perched on a bluff high above the emerald green waters of San Juanico. It was an amazing place to hang out. Turkey vultures soared by riding the wind currents not more than 35 feet away from me (probably an exaggeration). I was exposed to the elements, and therefore in my element. Upon descending (also known as skidding recklessly down) the trail, I was making my way back along the beach to the land when this scene appealed to me. I have always loved shadows, especially when I can position myself on the very edge of dark and light. In this zone, the light moves very quickly, but I find these scenes to be quite alluring compared to full on shadow or full on light.

ORGAN PIPE CACTUS ON THE NORTH RIDGE OF DANZANTE
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I went for a hike on Isla Danzante (Island of the Dancer). This is a great name for an island. The Spanish supposedly name it when they found the island. There was a clutch of native folk rejoicing in their way-- dancing up a storm. I was performing my own dance on this beautiful island. I had climbed my way to the highest point on the north end of the island. It was a scramble up a steep loose gravel trail. It was mildly taxing, but not that long. I had climbed to this point last year, and when I reached the top, I decided I wanted more.

Looking southward, I saw another high point that I had never climbed, and it sparked my interest. To get there, I was going to traverse the north ridge of Danzante. This was no easy task. The entire ridge looked to be made of crumbling rock along a narrow knife-edge. I pondered my moves, and held firm to my one spot of good footing. I decided that I would only take one step to see how it was. If I didn’t like it, I could take one step back, and call it a day. So I took that step, and it held true. It turns out, the worst looking part of the traverse held the best footing. I would have never known, if I hadn’t tried. Halfway across the ridge, and finally on better ground, I found this attractive clump of organ pipe cactus. It was an easy composition, and I decided upon a sepia exposure, as there just wasn’t much color to the scene. When there is not much color in a scene, why try to make a color image?

FIRST LIGHT ON PUERTO LOS GATOS
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To me, the Sierra de la Giganta, are among the prettiest mountain ranges in North America. Their dramatic backdrop has improved many of my photographs, and I’m longing for the day when I can spend an entire month roaming along their rugged peaks and deep arroyos.

We were on approach to our morning anchorage just as the sun came up. I had time to take these photographs of the beautiful morning glow that reflected off the sandstone to a gentle orange blush.

ANIMALS IN FLIGHT
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I am lucky. I’ve been blessed with very good photographic timing, and I offer this shot as my proof. I had never taken a successful picture of a magnificent frigate bird before this shot. We were watching a feeding frenzy take place on the surface of the ocean just off the rocky point of Los Gatos. This frigate bird flew by fairly close to where I was standing, and I panned my camera along with it in flight shooting the whole way. I didn’t know the common dolphin was airborne as well, until I looked at the photo on my computer. When I saw it, I laughed aloud. How lucky can a guy get?

This is my favorite picture of the week.

FEEDING FRENZY
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As I mentioned, we were watching a full-blown feeding frenzy take place not more than a hundred yards away from the boat. There were common dolphins driving the bait to the surface, and the sea birds were getting in on the action. It was interesting watching the various techniques used by the birds, the large brown pelicans would fly above the mass and dive missile like into the ball breaking through the surface with their large beaks. The frigate birds don’t like to get wet, and would streak in, hovering briefly to snap up a fish with it’s beak before snapping its wing and gliding away. The frigate bird looks to be the inspiration to the skydiver’s spandex wing suit. It has a forked tail, and narrow, yet very maneuverable black wings. The gulls would simple land, and swim nipping at the bits left by the others before squawking and moving on.

It was awesome to watch this kind of behavior first hand, and not on a nature documentary.

SUNRISE OVER ISLA SAN JOSE
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Looking at the pre-dawn sky, I knew the sunrise had potential to be a good one. It isn’t often that there is a nice layer of scattered clouds over the eastern horizon on the Sea of Cortez. As the sun climbed closer to the horizon, the most brilliant oranges I have seen in some time began to erupt over the island. I finished my duties as quickly as I could in order to have time to grab my camera and document this amazing display. The last zodiac full of guests was heading directly into the fiery sky, and it was an easy leading line into the scene. I shot my fill, and then went up to the highest point on the ship to drink this scene into my memory.

CARDON CACTUS OVER ENSENADA GRANDE
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Having worked a full day, all I wanted to do was go to the beach and go for a swim. This seems like and easy enough task to accomplish, but in reality, it wasn’t as easy as it sounds. During the full moon, the tides on the Sea of Cortez pull a little higher than normal, and the shallow bay of Ensenada Grande is victim to them. I could not get a ride to the shore, I had to get out and shuffle my feet a hundred yards or so to get to the beach. From there, I took off my life jacket, and proceeded to walk another hundred yards along the shore back out into the bay to find water deep enough to sit down in. It felt good, and I sat there with my body immersed up to my neck in beautifully clear green water. Satisfied, I stepped out of the water and air dried. Who needs a towel in the desert? Not me. As I was about to make my way back to the populated beach, I noticed a cardon cactus with some character perched high above me. I thought about it, and figured with the right angle, I could make a compelling scene of the cactus and the bay. So I went rock climbing. How did going for a swim get so complicated? Anyway, I love spontaneous decisions, and my hunch was well rewarded.

I couldn't resist one more.

DOLPHINS TAKE FLIGHT
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Cheers to a great week down in Mexico!

Posted by Rhombus 13:14 Archived in Mexico Tagged birds islands wildlife hiking mexico deserts sunrise oceans dolphins photography Comments (1)

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