Chasing my Tent

It's windy in the Inland Northwest. That wonderful area of Washington and Oregon that is high in sunshine and low in rain. We are talking prairies plateaus, deserts, and sagebrush. The wind can whip through the landscape as if scouring the land of any ability hold forest roots and create a nice wind block. Even when trees are rooted in the soil, they sway in the wind, bending to it's will.

It was this wind that I traveled into on my recent road trip through Eastern Oregon. A wind so strong, it felt as if it might suck the moisture from the soil.

My 1st night was spent in the Columbia River Gorge. Known for it's winds that attract sail-boarders and wind surfers from around the world, I should have expected the wind swirling around the wind-breaks in the campground.

But there I was staring at the wind - looking at it as it pressed against my face as if I could stare down the gusts. I was trying to put up my tent. I sighed and started the task, in the wrong order - stake down first THEN put in the poles. I however, erected the tent 1st and then tried staking it down. I barely had the stake in the ground when a gust happily snatched the tent away from me and started dribbling it like a ball across the lawn. I took off at a run to steal my tent back and played tug of war with the wind back to my tent-site to finally get it secured into the ground.

My second bout with wind came as I was driving through the Malhuer National Wildlife Refuge south of Burns, OR. The winds huffed & puffed against my car from the west. My car labored to move forward and between gusts shot forward in it's freedom. I the distance I saw a dust cloud stretching from a plowed field across the highway. I have driven through dust storms before and smoke from forest fires - I never enjoyed them as your sight is limited even farther than most fog I had grown up with in the Snohomish River Valley. I soon entered the cloud and my heart immediately began racing. "Holy SHIT!" No visibility. None. if I continued I would crash and die. If I stopped, someone would crash into me & I would die. But the wind, being fickle, lifted the dust cloud enough to keep me moving forward. My heart continued to beat fast as I raced beyond the dust cloud to my next destination . . . and more wind.

I have enjoyed images of the Alvord Desert for a couple of years and wanted to see it for myself, so my road trip of course included a stop here and hopefully I'd be able to catch star trails and a tranquil desert sunrise. What I get was wind gusts coming across Steens Mountain that jostled and shoved my car all night. I set up my camera to try & catch  the last light of day on the clouds that hung over Steens Mountain to the west. But when I turned my back to grab a filter from the car, a gust pushed the tripod with camera over into the cracked & crusted soil. Damn! My camera is already held together with pink duct tape! but the camera was fine. The tripod however, the one I borrowed from my boss, was broken. I had the pink duct tape stowed in my car and quickly tried my best to stabilize the head, but any ability for real long exposures for the rest of the trip was gone. No star trails. No cotton candy clouds in the sky. No silky waterfalls. And I had to figure out a way to apologize to my boss.

My morning project, I wanted the sun peeking over the distant hills. When I woke up, clouds screened out the horizon. But I watched as the sun rose behind the clouds and I was able to make the image above. I stood between the worst of the gusts and the camera & tripod. Even with the issues I experienced or maybe because of them I am just as happy with this image than if everything had gone according to plan.

Icons

What do you think of when you think of iconic images when you about to head of on a trip? Do you think of those images that describe the "Place?"

The view from Kerry Park on Queen Ann Hill of Seattle with the Space Needle in the foreground and Mt Rainier in the background?

Yosemite Valley with Half Dome looming at the far end?

A palm tree shading the beach on Hawaii?

How about an image that describes the experience?

Several years ago while I was on a road trip, my first in the southwest and on my own after getting married, I was driving along a highway through the mountains of Southern Utah. Snow, blown by the wind against my windshield, made me wonder why I was out here in March. It looked damned cold outside and I had several more nights in a tent before heading home. I was trying my best to look at the sights around me without becoming a traffic hazard, when I viewed this little abandoned cabin set back in the woods.

I suddenly became that traffic hazard I was trying to avoid being. I made a u-turn right in the middle of the highway (luckily it was a lonely stretch of highway).

That cabin became the meaning of my trip. If I took no other image during my drive, I would have been happy. There was a loneliness to the cabin that described what I was feeling at the time. And yet there was a protective encirclement of trees, a safety of sorts for the cabin. And I knew there was one for me too.

Since that lonely trip so long ago, I have gone through several life changes. A divorce, financial hardship and a severe bout of depression had taken their toll. Through it all though, I could get lost in my viewfinder to see the good and beautiful in the world.

It was time for another road trip.

I chose Eastern Oregon, a long time favorite destination. This time I was going to a few old faves (John Day Fossil Beds, Bend) and a few new places (Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, Smith Rock State Park). A week on the road, exploring and photo-ing. Just me and the turtle.

I looked forward to the time alone. The time to think. The ability to go where I wanted, when I wanted. Sing badly at the top of my lungs.

I turned onto this road early one morning while driving through southeast Oregon. It was straight, cutting through the prairie like a knife and seemed as if no one was there with me.

I loved the lonely, the silence. I loved the straight road leading me on, beckoning me to move forward to something new and something comfortable. The road and the image above became the icon for my trip.

The image below is the cabin I shot so many years ago in Utah.

Westport Sea Lions

Each Mother's Day weekend, my family meets at Grayland State Park for a weekend of camping, beachcombing and, in some years, clamming. Normally on these weekends, I have some amazing hike planned and cant join them. But this year was different - I purposefully left the weekend open so I could join them.

Not only would I be able to spend time with my family relaxing by the beach, I would also be able to work a little on my Washington State Parks project as many of the beaches along the southern part of the state are publicly owned. I also figured I could work on a few special photo techniques while there. It would be a good weekend even though the weather reports didn't sound promising.

I got the 1st text from my cousin sometime Friday afternoon. She had gone earlier to the campsite and stopped by the harbor town of Westport. The text read - There must be 50 sea lions on the docks right now!

Whoa! That's a lot of sea lions even for the fishing port of Westport.

Westport is a fisherman's mecca. A large protected harbor on the south arm of Greys Harbor, fisherman, both recreational and commercial, moor their boats here. Clean their fish here.

As a protected harbor, Westport also provides several nice calm haul-outs for sea lions, ie, docks. And May is the beginning of breeding season for them. So by the time I got there on Saturday, about 50 sea lions were pilled on the dock, sunning themselves, barking, fighting, sleeping. Several swam around the docks and spy hopped to watch us as we watched them.

I spent some time in the morning photographing before heading to meet the family. And then after lunch, we drove back up for more photos.

I may not classify myself as a wildlife photographer, but when presented with such easy subjects even I will pull out my long lens to play.

Progression of Sunset

You've got a grand idea - take a road trip someplace to capture sunset. You've been eyeing this place for some time thinking that this will be a great place for sunset. So after packing a picnic because it will be dinner before sunset and you plan on eating at your special place, you drive a few hours to be in position. And sure enough, it's a great place to photograph sunset as you watch a crowd gather with chairs, blankets and their own picnics to watch nature's light show.

The sun sinks to the horizon. 

You shoot a few images, playing with exposures and apertures. 

The sun begins to fade behind the horizon.

You shoot a little more.

The sun disappears. 

The crowd applauds and disperses.

What do you do? Do you pack up and go home too? Or do you stay a while longer to capture the colors of twilight.

The following images are of the same sunset taken from Rosario Head at Deception pass State Park, but in two of the images my camera was pointed directly where the sun was going down. The other two, I pointed my camera more Southwest of the sunset to capture a different light.

The sun sinks behind the horizon.

And is gone.

Looking southwest just after sunset.

And about 20 minutes after sunset.

Do you know when it is time to go home?