Let Go

We met in college, my 1st husband and I. He was nice and paid attention to me, a shy girl who rarely went on dates. We started dating and a few months later he proposed. I said yes.

After we were married, the problems started. The warnings were there prior to our wedding, but I had ignored them not really knowing any better. Life was supposed to get better after marriage, right?

I knew I would never give him children when he woke up in the middle of the night and threw my cat against the walk because Checkers walked across him.

His dream was to be a photojournalist. I encouraged him to follow his dreams because that's what wives do and I stood by him while he pursued his dream. We went to Ohio so he could attend a top school.

It was there that it really got worse. Everything that went wrong in his life or that he imagined went wrong, was my fault. He didn't get the class he wanted - my fault. He didn't pass a test - my fault. The river flooded us into our rental home - my fault.

Jealousy followed me everywhere. His professor mentioned once I was a better photographer then he was - he put my photography down at every opportunity. I even quit photography to make him happy. If he saw me talking to a male classmate I must be having an affair. I withdrew from having friends.

Sadly, none of that helped. He had his own demons he was fighting. He decided one day to use his fists on me to fight them. The day I showed up at a friends in tears and bruises and she escorted me to the emergency was the start of my freedom from his terror.

The journey to freedom would take another 20+ years.

I tried for years to let go of my resentment for him and how he treated me to no avail. I held onto it like a frazzled old teddy bear that had long ago lost is usefulness in keeping me comfortable.

On this last day of 2016, while driving over Stevens Pass I began thinking about the progress of my photography from those early years in film. And I thought of my 1st husband and how at time he struggled with photography and wondered how he might be doing. I wondered if he had finally found a path that would give him joy. I hoped that he was happy and doing well in his life.

And realized that I had finally forgiven him and let go of my anger and resentment.

I smiled for myself and sent a little wish of well being to him, wherever he is.

My Favorite Photos from 2016

A Baker's Dozen

Twenty-sixteen was at times a stressful year, at times busy and always an adventure. Here are my favorite images from 2016, in no real order. Hope one of your favorites made the list.

1. Little English Daisy - composite image - I continued my journey creating composite and textured images of flowers this year. It's exciting for me to create these images as if a real artisic potential exists. This was one of my favorites this year.

2. Moon and Silos - while journeying into Eastern Washington with a group of fellow Mountaineer photographers, we stopped in this little town known for it's old crumbling schoolhouse. We were hoping to photograph stars above the schoolhouse. As we waited, a truck drove by us on the dirt road kicking up dust that spread a bit like a fog near the silos. I liked the color in the sky with the moon and the added "atmosphere". 

3. Stars above Umatilla Rock - on the same trip as the image above, after we left the schoolhouse we made it back to camp at Dry Falls State Park. I ventured out to capture the stars above Umatilla Rock and Voc Meyers Lake.

4. Autumn Ptarmigan - sometimes walking alone in the wilderness can lead to some serendipitous moments. But this was along side the road near Heather Meadows at Mt Baker. I startled her and her family. As the others ducked for cover, she watched me with a wary eye as I snapped a few photos. A perfect moment, perfect exposure, perfect background.

5. Mt Rainier in Autumn - for me this image captures the magic of autumnal change in the mountains. As the lower slopes are brilliant with color, the upper slopes are quickly covered in snow.

6. Silver Fox - talk about another serendipitous moment. While I was photographing a scene on San Juan Island this little guy snuck up behind me to watch what I was doing. I turned around and he trotted off a bit then looked over his shoulder at me. We hung out for about 20 minutes. It was a special moment that I will always cherish.

7. Hailee - this was an image that I imagined the minute Hailee agreed to meet me a Lake Sylvia State Park for her senior photos. The park has a wonderful old rustic covered bridge the I thought would have some great diffused light. With Hailee's long neck and legs I knew she'd be beautiful here.

8. Cooper - this was just a fun photo of my friend's dog while we were playing in the snow. Cooper just looked so happy on top of the hill.

9. Gather Together - spring in a marsh will often have ducks and ducklings swimming around. I rarely consider myself a wildlife photographer, just don't have the patience for it. But when I'm given an opportunity of ducks casually hanging out in the same area as I am, I can't resist. 

10. The Colors of Spring - Eastern Washington in the spring is filled with colors. This Skeleton of a barn sat at the base of a hill with the flower-filled hills beyond. A scene from a pastel dream.

11. Zillah - while on a backpack through the Buckhorn Wilderness in the Olympics, we took a brief break to admire the scenery. Zillah on the other hand decided to take a catnap in one of the most scenic areas of the trip.

12. Sunset at Illahee - talk about a perfect setting. Two sailboats moored offshore from Illahee State Park, almost perfectly framing Mt Rainier when ferry passes. Great timing with beautiful evening light.

13. Wild Turkey - This year seemed to give me ample practice in wildlife photography. Often serendipitous moments as I stumbled across critters. This turkey was no different. As I was driving along the road at Dry Falls State Park, I spotted him next to the road.

Standing atop Mt Constitution, the highest point in the San Juan Islands, the wind whips around me tugging at my clothes. It’s a cold wind. I pull my hood tighter around my face then jam my hands depply into my pockets; my camera hangs on a strap from around my neck.

I face east waiting for sunset. The sun, setting behind me, will hopefully light the clouds clinging to the Cascade Range to a vibrancy of the last remnants of an autumn day. The clouds are stock-piled along the mountains – scoops of atmosphere reminiscent of scoops of ice cream piled together in a sundae cup. They move with the wind jostling for position along the horizon at times exposing peaks then in a moment covering them again.

My eyes wander over the scene to the islands lying in Rosario Strait between Orcas Island and Bellingham. They rest in the shade of Mt Constitution as the shadow from the mountain stretches across the strait. The water gradually becomes a dull silver in the growing darkness.

The slow descent of the sun has quickened as it heads towards the horizon to the west.

The clouds across the Cascades begin to shift in color from white to a hint of yellow.

I shift my weight on my foot, rocking back and forth trying to stay warm. I adjust my hood so it’s covers more of my head and neck. Keeping my eyes on the scene in front of me, I rub my hands together then jam them once again deep into my pockets. The clouds have parted slightly around Mt Baker and I become fixated on the photographic possibilities.

Snow had recently fallen on Mt Baker, coating her slopes white. A smile broadens my cheeks.

Color in the clouds shift further as the sun sinks below the horizon – from a soft yellow to a muted grey. Then almost magically they become pink puffs of cotton candy clinging to the slopes of Mt Baker.

This is my scene.

This was worth the wait in blowing autumn wind with a winter chill.

Heidi's Hotspots: Lake Crescent

There are some pretty spectacular lakes in the Northwest: Crater Lake, Lake Chelan, Stanley Lake. They are set in stunning mountain scenery and visited as destinations in their own right. Ranked right there with them is the gem of Lake Crescent.

Located in the northwestern corner of the Olympic Peninsula, Lake Crescent is an easy destination for daytrippers and vacationers. And the trip will not disappoint. The heavily forested mountains on the north of the peninsula cradle the crystal clear blue waters creating beautiful views from any vantage point.

Highway 101 hugs the southern shore of the lake and there is no shortage of all those beautiful views. It's one of those winding roads motorcyclists and sports car drivers dream of, but be careful. The speed limit is 35 for a reason. Bicyclists ride on the narrow road and the lake has a long history of people driving off the road, the most notable is Blanch and Russell Warren who drove into the lake in the 20's and no one really knew what happened to them until 2002 when their car was found by divers.

But I would hate to drive fast on this road and miss all the opportunities for gawking at the views and pulling off at the ample pull-outs along the way.

And when you're done driving Highway 101 along the lake shore, head to one of the trailheads for the railroad grade trail and meander along the "backside" of Lake Crescent. It's a fairly flat 4 miles one way and leads you past Devil's Punchbowl - a very popular swimming hole.

When is the best time to go? Anytime. Spring brings new growth and roadside waterfalls. Summer brings recreationists playing on the water. Fall colors line the shore in autumn. And of course winter capped mountains are a must see, reflected in the still waters. I've never been disappointed by my favorite lake.

A Northwest Autumn

The skies are grey today. The onset of a northwest winter when it's darker more than light, the rain drizzles through the air and bright colors look dim.

It hasn't gotten to that yet - that will be near the end of January.

Now, the bright orange, red and yellow leaves on the trees add a colorful contrast to the grey sky.

They flutter and waft through the air, the leaves, to rest in the gutters and the occasional umbrella. In the mountains though, snowflakes are already starting to fall to cover the fall foliage in its winter coat.

Soon the color will be covered or gone and we will be left with grey.

That is winter in the northwest, but golden is what we see now.

These Serendipitous Moments

We were camped at the edge of a lake along the Pacific Crest Trail, the only campers there – just me and Zillah, my faithful hiking companion. We had hiked all day and by evening were ready to snuggle into our tent. Expecting a warm evening, I had left the rainfly unzipped on the tent to hopefully catch a breeze during the night. But that is not all that we would catch. As dusk settled over the little lake Zillah leaped up, hackles raised and with her nose pressed against the bug mesh of the tent let out a low rumbling growl. Bear! I peered out the tent wondering what I should do to protect us both. The splashing from the lake told me that it was coming across the lake for us. Squinting against the darkening light I saw not a bear coming at us to tear us apart, but a herd of elk playing in the lake. They splashed in it. They chased each other. They squealed elk squeals of delight. Danger averted, Zillah and I settled back into bed and listened to the elk playing until we drifted to sleep. The next morning, I looked across the lake and one lone cow stood at the opposite shore. She trotted off into the forest when she saw me. At that moment I realized I alone had experienced that marvelous interaction.

After several years, I still treasure that evening near Fish Lake and I was reminded how special it was recently on two wildlife encounters.

The 1^st encounter occurred while walking around the grounds at American Camp in the San Juan National Historical Park. I had received advice from a couple who lived on the island regarding which fork in the trail would be the best. Their advice took we along the top of the bluffs overlooking Haro Strait towards Grandma’s Cove. The cove itself is well worth the walk but as I was just finishing up trying to capture the beauty of the cove, I turned to look into the brilliant brown eyes of a silver fox. She seemed to recognize that I was no threat to her at all and meandered around on the same bluff as I was on for 20 minutes while I happily photographed her. Finally, I decided it was time for me to head back and she decided to try hunting on another part of the bluff. All the time we spent together not a single other person joined us. It was my little moment with this beautiful creature.

A few days later, I was attending an artist and photographer retreat at Mt Baker. While many of the participants were spread out through the meadows with their easels and tripods or hiking in groups to see cloud enshrouded views, I meandered through the meadow talking to photographers and artists about the colors and inspirations. After a bit – close to lunchtime – I started back to the lodge along the road and surprised a couple of ptarmigan taking refuge in some bushes beside the road. Cars passed by as I quickly created a few images of one little gal eyeing me before jumping off her little rock. I couldn’t wait to get back to the lodge and look at the images and smiling to myself. 

Deer Gangs

The deer in Moran State Park, and indeed all of Orcas Island, are very well behaved. As I drove the roads, they stayed on the side of the road. Rarely did they walk in front of my car or stand dumb-founded as my car approached.

Not like the deer in the Methow Valley. There’s something wrong with those deer.

As you drive along highway 20 from the North Cascades, you will see a sign that gives the number of deer killed in car collisions. Some years it’s a very high number.

I’ve wondered as I’ve driven past that sign, “wouldn’t all the dumb deer be killed by now?” With the high deaths of deer deaths of dumb deer meandering in the middle of the road (I’ve seen them do that along the highway). At some point, only the smart deer who know how to stay off the road would survive and teach their young to do the same. One would think, right?

A few years ago I found the answer – Deer Gangs. Adolescent deer hang out together by the side of the road daring each other to walk in front of cars.

Now hear me out.

A few years ago I was spending some time in the Methow. A few friends and I rented a cabin where you turned off the main road near a blind curve. And it was a blind curve, not only did it turned but as it turned it dropped down a hill.

One evening as I was headed back to the cabin, I slowed down to turn onto the dirt road when I noticed a group of deer hanging out in the blind of the curve. One started into the road as I came near but then backed away and went back to the small group of deer. It was if they were daring each other to walk in front of cars.

“Hey Jeff. Here comes a car. Walk out there and see what happens to this one.”

I could almost see cigarette butts hanging from their mouths and tattoos on their arms.

Not the Moran deer. They were more like “How do you do? I’m sure you’ll enjoy the view from the top. We certainly do. Carry on.”

The Moran deer were far more courteous.

The People You Meet

Several years ago I sat in on a talk given by National Park Historian Alfred Runte while at Mt Rainier National Park. He spoke of the treasures that our National Parks are for us – not only do they protect our wilderness, our history and our culture. They are meeting places of the world where we can meet people from other cultures and share in the experience we might not have otherwise shared. Our National Parks have the ability to bring people together.

I was reminded of his talk recently while on a trip to the San Juan Islands to visit a couple of Washington State Parks and the San Juan Islands National Historical Park.

I first met John and Louise, a retired couple who now live on San Juan Island near Friday Harbor. We met while walking around the prairie at American Camp of San Juan Island NHP. John built the white picket fence surrounding the old parade grounds. He had worked for both the park service and forest service in his time and Louise had built the reputation of always ready for adventure. We chatted about the park, bicycling and what views could be seen on the loop trail I had chosen. It saddened me to part with them but as I watched them walk along the trail, I smiled at having met them.

Later in camp, I met Rainier and his wife who had decided to go on a road trip with their Prius and, wanting to save money, were experimenting with sleeping in the back of the car. They slept very well (it was the larger Prius). They had travelled from California to Washington visiting friends and family along the way. She informed me that her daughter runs the Driftwood Inn in Yachats, Oregon – so if you’re ever in town I understand all of the food is made from scratch including the bread.

It was just a chance meeting with Marly while we walked to get water in Moran State Park. She and her friend had hiked in Obstruction Point Park that day while I spent some time at the top of Mt Constitution. She asked about the view as they were headed up the next day. Of course it had been a wonderful view and at sunset the clouds parted enough for Mt Baker to show herself. And in the last light of the day the clouds took on a look of pink cotton candy clinging to the mountains slopes. The next morning, she gave me a packet of dried vanilla leaf because my story of the cotton candy clouds touched her so.

To end my solitary week, I spent the weekend at the Mountaineers Lodge at Mt Baker for an artist and photo retreat. A bit of a shock to my system when I am surrounded by 60 people who are all creative in some way. There was Erwin whose photography I’ve admired for some time. Brooke whose abstract plein-air paintings and exuberance sparked my imagination. Watercolor masters from Canada and plein-air painters from Washington shared their work all weekend.

And finally Nancy who we both realized may know the same Marcia and we laughed at the small world and our interconnectedness. A community where we didn’t know existed.

Bucket List

Yes, I have one.

Publish my books.

Go on an African Safari.

Tour India.

Photograph the Aurora.

Summit Mt St Helens.

This year I was able to cross one of them off . . . permanently . . . with a big ole black marker.

Eighteen years ago was my 1st attempt only to be turned around by weather and an insane guide who mocked me of my fears of being blown off the rim by the storm that was bearing down on us.

Since then, I had planned and purchased 5 more climb permits only to be turned away by weather, injuries and insecurities.

But this year I finally made it.

I didn't go alone. My sister gathered a group of friends who trained with us and climbed through boulders and pumice to celebrate our achievement on top of an active (ish) volcano. I doubt I could have done it without them.

From Mark's glee at finding a new passion to Evie's determination to not let a bunch of boulders get in her way to Andrea's magical cooling rags to my sister's insistence that she would kick my ass if I didn't get to the top, I found the ability in myself to overcome the heat and self-doubt.

Every step was worth it - to watch as the landscape changed with every ridge line - to accomplish a goal so long in the making - to share the accomplishment with new found friends.

I look forward to the next accomplishment especially with my friends - old and new, near and far - supporting me along the way.

And of course a sister who won't hesitate to kick my ass to get it done.

Love you all.

A Little Pocket of Paradise

I found my little pocket of paradise this past week.

It's not much. No grandiose views although it is a bit photogenic.

Nothing earth shattering in its location or history.

It's just a pocket and a quiet little pocket, just what I needed and what I didn't know I was looking for.

When I found my pocket I knew though that my heart and soul would forever think of this place when in need.

In times of need when I want to envision my happy place, I think of an alpine meadow shrouded in fog. I feel protected and at peace.

But here on this little knoll looking out into a meadow nestled between basalt bluffs, I felt at home. Beyond protection and peace, this place was comfort.

I could have stayed there forever yet I have no desire to encroach on the landscape by building a home. Maybe in that corner over there so I could have this unspoiled view to myself.

Shared with the deer wandering through the meadow, uncertain of me yet also unafraid.

This is my little pocket of paradise.

The Scent of Green

Green has a scent.

Green smells like spring in a Pacific Northwest forest.

As the ferns unfurl their fronds reaching out for new life, you can smell it.

As the Salmonberry and Thimbleberry leaf out and blossom preparing for their juicy summer fruits, you can smell it.

As the undergrowth replenishes through warmer air and moist days putting forth sparkling gems of wildflowers, you can smell.

As the moss drips with rain water from the sturdy boughs of the trees surrounding you, you can smell it.

As the Big Leaf Maples and the tentacles Vine Maples spread their palmated leaves to collect the sun and rejuvenate their roots, you can smell it.

As streams rattle and crash over rocks and through banks of glorious and vibrant greens, you can smell it.

As you walk through a Pacific Northwest forest in the spring, you can smell it.

You can smell green.

Have you smelled it?

Hiking the Upper Dungeness River

Beautiful partly sunny February days don't happen very often here in the Northwest. But when they do, you better know that folks will line up to hike the low land snow-free trails - unless the trail is a 3 hour drive from the Seattle.

Welcome to the Upper Dungeness - or any trail on the north end of the Olympic Peninsula. A magical place where the crowds just don't go, at least not early in the season. By the time we parked and got our boots on, we saw no other cars in the parking lot.

The Olympic Peninsula is a magical place for me. This is where I first learned about the wonders of the natural world. It's also where I learned about hiking and backpacking. Even old familiar trails are new and wondrous for me with each passing season.

So when I have the chance to share my favorite places with others I leap at the chance. I get to spend the day in the wilderness with friends as they explore nature and themselves. What could be better than stopping by a river and having a snack in camaraderie of fellow travelers?

And when you're hiking through the shadow of ancient trees on a chill February morning, stop to feel the sun on your face for a brief moment and become spellbound.

What's Your Secret?

Will you tell me your secret? 

Ooh. That's a cool old barn that you photographed. Where did you find it?

Wow! Great lighting! What technique did you use?

Have you been asked these questions? Or asked them? What was the response? 

Oh, I found that barn on my latest road trip. The technique is natural light. And is that all the response given? It's as if the photographer is afraid to tell you too much for fear that you'll then know his or her secret?

Well let me tell you a secret of my own. Don't tell anyone, ok? Just between you and me.

There are no secrets. 

Let me repeat that - there are NO secrets.

A recent exchange on Facebook left me wondering why some photographers are so hesitant to share their knowledge. I can understand trying to protect a place as a fellow photographer lamented the destruction of vegetation near a waterfall as photographer's clambered to get just the right image. But sadly once a place has been found, it will not remain secret and our next step in protecting the place is through education and Leave No Trace policies. Sarah Marino wrote an excellent blog post about this very thing.

But beyond protecting a place from overuse is there another reason? Is it a fear of not being unique anymore? Not having that one of a kind image?

Another friend of mine was helping a wedding photographer for a year when he finally "discovered" how that photographer achieved a certain look in his images. Why not ask? Was it because photographers have a heinous reputation for guarding their secrets?

Just do me a favor. Open your browser to Google and type in that place or that technique you think only you know. See what happens. I will lay even money down that there will be several entries for your query. So why do you keep it secret.

What's a better solution? Teaching. For those special places we hold dear, teach the next photographer you see how best to preserve the environment. For the person who wants to know how to light a subject, guide them through the steps.

I promise, you will be all the better for it.

Oh and if you're interested in where the above image was made. I created it somewhere is Eastern Washington. ;-)

A Mother's Touch

Mother's Day.

It's been 25+ years since I thought of celebrating this holiday by giving my mom flowers or an African Violet or an owl figurine. Mom died far too early in her life and mine.

As a young woman heading out toward life, I missed her presence, her advice and her love. I was only 24 when she died from complications due to Type 2 Diabetes. She was 57. I had just gotten married to a man I did not love and he knew. He demonstrated his frustration through his fists.

But Mom didn't raise me to be a punching bag. I knew it. He knew it. And after an emergency room visit with friends we were divorced. Thoughts turned to returning home to the safety of family as at the time I was in Ohio. But Mom would have wanted me to follow my dreams and so I stayed in school and became an educator.

Not liking the public school system, I taught college level courses and, later, extending education for adults. And when I look at what I teach (hiking, navigation, photography, the natural world) I see her influence.

Mom taught me about the natural world, life cycles, love of being in nature and a vision of the art in everyday life. She taught me to look at the more minuscule world even as I gazed in wonder at the grand views. And she showed me that helping others find their view is the most rewarding. 

And so, without even really thinking about it I will be celebrating Mother's Day in the world she taught me to love and to share. This Mother's Day I'll be backpacking with friends and new hikers sharing my love of this natural world with them. 

Thank you mom. I miss you.

Big Doug

They call you Big Doug an I wonder if you like the name or are oblivious to the hikers who come to gape at your size as I have. Is it rude to stare at a tree?

I sit at your base, on roots of a tree seen in any other context could be considered grand yet nest to you it seems small and insignificant. Your stature reaches toward the sky with branches only near your crown - they appear to be arms outstretched to welcome the sun.

The stories you tell are in the cracks of your bark. Burn marks from a long forgotten wildfire scar your trunk, the bark seemingly more fragile than the rest. small shrubs have started to sprout from the debris in your crevassed bark.

You're an old being, an Ent taking the time to tell your stories. To whisper you wisdom on the breeze. Living a life of quiet contemplation among your peers conversing through the creaks of your stems, the sway of your limbs and the buzz of life around you.

What shall I call you you other than venerable?

Washington State Parks: St Edwards

Has this ever happened to you?

You pull into the parking lot for an evening of photography and as you do spot the perfect photo.

Oh, that light.

As you hurriedly park hoping you don't ding another car and actually get your car between the lines, your thoughts are focused on equipment, camera settings and the fading light.

Oh. That light.

You envision your composition as you fumble with lenses and setting. Oh wait, the tripod. Screw the tripod - get that light.

You scurry across the parking lot trying to avoid cracks in the pavement, other pedestrians and cars.

Oh my Gawd, the light!

You compose, focus the camera, focus your mind and press the shutter. Once. Twice. And your perfect light is gone, obscured by clouds.

You spend another hour meandering in the light of fading day creating several more images that make you smile until it is time to go.

Of course the 1st image you look at is the 1st image you made and your smile becomes a thought - I don't suck after all.

Won't you join us?

Each of us has our reason. For me personally it's the photos. Not the ones I created but the ones I see on environmental websites. I'm sure you've seen them.

The turtle wearing a plastic six-pack ring that is girdling it's shell.

The dead bird - starved to death because it mistook colorful plastic bits as food.

Yeah, you know the photos.

I started volunteering with the Olympic Coast Cleanup back in 2000. Over the years I've gone to pick up marine debris by myself, with family, with friends (one all the way from Oklahoma) and other volunteers (one couple who was visiting from France and decided to join).

I collected trash from easy beaches to access to others requiring an overnight stay.

And I watched as more volunteers joined, more beaches were added and the coordinating group Washington CoastSavers develop from a small group of like-minded folks to an internationally recognized group with high ambitions to keeping our oceans and beaches clean of debris. They have reached beyond the one spring clean-up a year to three cleanups - Earth Day, July 5th and the International Coastal Cleanup.

It's not just the core group of committee members who have this dedication, but the army of volunteers who devote a day or two or three to pull debris off the beaches - our friends and family. Just last year, 1200 volunteers carried 19 tons of marine debris off Washington's beaches during the Earth Day cleanup.

We're about to do it again.

On April 23rd this year, 1000+ volunteers will again spend the day cleaning our states beaches. Will you join us?

Even before the 23rd cleanup, there is an opportunity to help CoastSavers by attending and Evening of Music, Art and Adventure on April 9th. There will be a surf rock band - The Echo Devils - providing the music, live and silent auctions and refreshments. I would love to see you there.

What will be your reason for helping?

A June Lake Snowshoe

Barely 2 miles from the trail head, I had to ask.

"Did you check the trail reports?"

The reason I asked was that we were almost to the snow park and there was no snow.

"The last report was from 2 weeks ago and the gal complained about all the snowmobiles out on the road."

That was another sign we might be in trouble - I had yet to see a truck hauling snowmobiles. Our snowshoe might just turn into a hike.

We pulled into the parking lot to find that yes there was snow, but it was crappy snow. It hadn't snowed for several days so there were bare spots in the trees and tree debris on top of what snow there was.

It wasn't an auspicious start to our adventure, but we'd make the most of it. We always do.

The "we" here was me, my Sissy, a friend of ours, and an intern at Sissy's company. The intern wanted to get out and about as much as possible before he headed home to New York. What better way to see the state than a snowshoe through the wilderness on the backside of our volcano.

Clouds hung low through most of the day so we weren't able to see the crater rim. But anything could happen, right? We set off down the snow covered road avoiding the few snowmobiles enjoying each others' company and sharing stories.

About a mile along the road, is the turn off to the lake. Snowmobiles aren't allowed on the trail and since there weren't that many, we didn't leave any hectic traffic jams behind.

Heading up through the woods, I realized I am in far worse shape than I imagined myself to be. This should be an easy jaunt yet here I was dragging behind and huffing and puffing. I have a lot of work to do to get into shape for climbing Mt St Helens.

It didn't take long for the rain to start and I have to say it - I hate snowshoeing in the rain. It's miserable. I'd rather have blowing snow than rain. Ugh. We soldiered on and in no time we were at the lake. A pretty sort of a lake especially in the snow with snags and a waterfall on the far side. In the summer, this place serves well as a starting point for the Loowit trail - the 30+ mile hike around the volcano. In the snow it's an enchanted land of snow queens and fairies. At least in my fantasy.

We shared a big tree near the edge of the lake that served well to shelter us from the rain and ate our lunch before heading back to the car in the rain.

It may be a long drive, but I do enjoy snowshoeing to June Lake. I just wish the rain could have waited a little longer.

And This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Summer of 2013 found me excitedly exploring Point Reyes National Seashore for the first time. I camped just outside the park in Point Reyes Station and drove most days through the small community of Inverness and their iconic shipwreck, the S.S. Point Reyes.

The S.S. Point Reyes has been stranded on a sandbar in Tomales near town for as long as anybody in town remembers. Photographers and tourists stopped to photograph this very picturesque derelict of a ship.

That is until recently.

Oh folks will still be able to stop and see the wreckage but the wreckage is greater than it used to be because of some unthinking fools who thought a cool picture was worth the risk. Read an article describing what happened here.

Steel Wool Spinning has gained in popularity over the years as a photographic gimmick. Set fire to steel wool and spin it around on a string as sparks fly of in arc - it creates really cool photos that get lots of likes on FaceBook and Instagram.

The problem is, well, those sparks. They spinning is casting off sparks of molten hot steel. They burn when they land on skin. They burn when they land on dried wood, grass and other burnables. They don't just evaporate into thin air. And when they land on something, they don't just disappear.

All too often, photos of spinning steel wool are made in our wild places. Places that are protected, places that are sensitive, places that could burn. And even if the sparks from spinning steel doesn't set off a fire, there is still the matter of the bits of steel left behind. This is basic Leave No Trace Principles - leave a place as you found it.

A friend once posed this question (and this goes towards biologicals too). Ask yourself - would this/these bits of steel wool be here if it wasn't for me? If the answer is no (and generally the answer to this question is no) then it doesn't belong there and you need to pack it out. Period. Little bits of steel left behind are littering and damaging. Even if you can't see them, they're still destructive by adding elements to the land that weren't there to begin with.

But if you find you must spin steel wool for a cool photo, do me a favor. Look around you and imagine this space as your home. Would you spin burning steel wool in your home? Then maybe you shouldn't spin it here either.

At this point the National Park Service is considering removing the S.S. Point Reyes as it's now a safety hazard. And that is sad for photographers, tourists and residents alike.

The Distraction of the Camera

SPOILER ALERT!!! If you have not seen The Secret Life of Walker Mitty stop reading right now, head immediately to Netflix to watch one of the most endearing films in recent years. Then you can come back and finish reading this blog post.

In the movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, Walter played by Ben Stiller heads out on a quest to find renowned photojournalist Sean O'Connell played by Sean Penn. When Walter finally finds Sean, he is sitting watching the den of a snow leopard, lens pointed towards a mass of rock. During the ensuing conversation, the snow leopard appears. They watch as the leopard emerges and looks around. Finally Walter asks Sean if he going to take the picture. Sean replies "Sometimes I don't. If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don't like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it."

That line resonated with me and is one of several reasons I fell in love with the movie. (Not the least of those is Ben Stiller's performance - there's nothing like a grizzled man in a parka to make me smile.)

It's a statement about being in the moment. Enjoying what is there - the sights, sounds, emotions.

How often have you set aside your camera to watch the sun set below the horizon? Or stopped washing dishes to watch the kids play tag? Sat in silence watching how the sun sparkles off the leaves around and above you.

Be in the moment. Don't worry about camera settings or your to-do list. Believe me, most every destination you're heading toward will be there when you get there. And certainly if you want to catch the emotion of a scene in your photography, put the camera down and feel. Immerse yourself in the moment. Then and only then do you lift your camera back up to create your image.

I was reminded of this on a recent trip to the Skagit Valley to see the Snow Geese. Every winter 10's of thousands of Snow Geese descend on the farmlands of the Skagit Valley to feed before heading back to their nesting grounds near Russia. Their numbers turn the fields white. With so many the noise is almost deafening. Their high notes are the honking of the geese communicating to each other. The base is a humming as they graze - a sort of yum-yum-yum-yum as they eat. An eagle flies near and as one they honking becomes higher as they lift off away from danger, circle around, land and graze some more.

I stopped photographing them after a while to just listen to their song and watch as they moved past me. Leaning against the fence protecting the birds from us, I watched as a story of life played out before me. And every now and then one goose would stop to watch me too.

February Foto-Challenge

A portrait photographer friend of mine has a fun little tradition every February. She asks her clients, friends and family to join her on a creative adventure - a photo a day for the month.

She gives them a list of topics/subjects/ideas - one per day - and those who take her up on the challenge have the creative license to interpret the daily task as they see fit. They then tag her on social media so she can see what they do.

It's so much fun, I wanted to put one together myself with a twist. If you are a photographer, artist or writer join me a get your creative juices flowing.

So I hereby challenge you my friends, my family, my followers. The creative souls who inhabit this space with me. Here is the 1st annual HIWalkerPhoto Foto-Challenge:

Day 1: Safety 1st                                        
Day 2:Shadows                                          
Day 3: Red                                                 
Day 4: Building Blocks
Day 5: Out the Window
Day 6: Snow Day
Day 7: Secrets
Day 8: Wake me Up
Day 9: Reach for the Sky
Day 10: Cravings
Day 11: My Family
Day 12: Good Friends
Day 13: A Good Pair of Shoes
Day 14: X's & O's
Day 15: Dead Presidents
Day 16: A Duck's Life
Day 17: Life's Imperfections
Day 18: Textures
Day 19: Laughter
Day 20: Where I'm Going
Day 21: Where I've Been
Day 22: Monday Morning Blues
Day 23: Contrasts
Day 24: Life is a Playground
Day 25: I Ate What?
Day 26: My Happy Place
Day 27: Fast Food
Day 28: Early Spring
Day 29: I Love You Because . . .                            

Cooper

I've always been a bit of a sucker for big brown puppy-dog eyes. My dad was a dog person so we always had dogs around. My first real friend was Lady, a German Shepherd with a taste for rubber squeaky mice. Oh how she loved to gnaw on them until the squeak was gone. She was my playmate, confidant and protector.

As a child, I would have most likely identified with being a cat person. I couldn't wait until we moved to the farm to get a cat (or several - it was a farm, you need lots of barn cats, right?) But dogs were always present.

Now I would consider myself an animal person. I would have a menagerie if I could. In the meantime, I will love on the critters I meet.

That is how I got to go for a walk with my friend's Golden Retriever Cooper. I had gone to Cle Elum for a business meeting, staying in Michelle's vacation home at the Suncadia Resort. Cooper was there too, keeping his favorite human company.

While she worked on a few things before our meeting, I decided to go for a walk to stretch my legs after my drive. I coaxed Cooper to come with me. A little reluctant at first, he soon became enthusiastic for the adventure. He trotted off ahead of me on the trail, a very large doggy smile on his face.