Looking at the World a little Differently

Sunset reflected, Cape Meares Lighthouse, Tillamook, OR

Have you ever looked through images of a place you're planning a photo trip to and notice that so many of them look the same? Do you begin to wonder if you'll be able to add to the images already created? How can you create an image that both defines the place you're heading to and your vision?

The idea here is to explore your vision and creativity.

I do advocate that you look at images from other photographers (both professional and amateur) who visited an area. This gives you an idea of what has been explored before.

When you arrive, don't be afraid to follow in their footsteps. There is a reason art students often copy works of the masters - it helps them explore their own style.

While you're photographing the scene, keep an open mind and an open eye. Watch how the light is moving across the scene, look for a different vantage point, get closer (zoom in with both your lens and your feet if possible). You might find an image worthy of your vision.

The story behind the image above is one of timing and watching the light. We arrived at the Cape Meares lighthouse near Tillamook, OR as the sun was rapidly setting between clouds and the horizon. I noticed that I might be losing the light I wanted on the lighthouse so sped up a bit to try and catch the light without losing my friends. Then, looking up the hill behind the structure, I came up with an idea - catch the last light THRU the lens housing! I ran up the hill and composed an image but the light wasn't really as I had hoped. But I did notice the reflection in the window panes, re-positioned and recomposed for the above image. A slightly different view of a popular lighthouse.

Now it's your turn to look for an image that speaks to your artist's eye.

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?

The right time, The wrong light

When it comes to Photoshop, I've heard it all. Is that real? Did you Photoshop that? Using Photoshop is lying. I especially love the last one. Since when is photography not lying or distorting what is seen. We compose in camera, use certain lenses and filters to show the viewer only what we want them to see. I could go into a dissertation as to the similarities between digital post-processing & analog post-processing, but wouldn't want to bore you.

Saying that, I have one confession to make. Yes, I use Photoshop.

I use Photoshop to enhance images. There are not many images I create that are not put through my Photoshop workflow. And since I shoot in RAW I really need to have a workflow in digital post-processing.

Most images don't need much work. Others however, as shot are not what I envisioned as my final image. I knew at shooting that I would be adjusting colors, enhancing contrast, removing that little distraction I just can't seem to get out the frame.

When I showed up for a sunset shoot near Eunice Lake in Mt Rainier National Park, I had grand hopes of glorious alpenglo on The Mountain.

What I got was drap.

Boring, even.

So I knew, when I got home I'd be playing a little in Photoshop. And play is what I did.

I had taken several exposures for the light tones, dark tones & mid tones in the scene knowing I would blend them later. This process often brings out the colors. But my image was still a little lackluster. Not at all what I had wanted.

Now in the old days, I could have added a colored graduated density filter to add more color to the mountain. Now, with Photoshop, I don't need all those expensive camera filters. Photoshop has them pre-programmed for me.

I chose a nice purple lens filter for the mountain.

I like purple.

And it enhanced the mountain to a vision. A piece of art.

I was able to take drab light and still make a nice image.

And now you know the truth.

Lyle Cherry Orchards

The vision was in my head. I knew what I wanted in my photograph, but would I be able to catch it? I knew that from where I stood, the sunset would be truly amazing. The real question was did I have the fortitude to wait for it? One more frigid blast of wind gave me my answer - I would come back some other time.

I had climbed to the Lyle Cherry Orchards late in the afternoon with the plan of sitting & waiting for sunset after exploring the "orchards." Ok, there are really only about 3 cherry trees left of the century old orchard, but the views they have a stunning. High above the Columbia River looking east towards The Dalles, a homesteader with a great eye for the dramatic planted a cherry orchard. Today the homestead is nothing more than a clearing with a few trees left, the surrounding oak forest fast encroaching upon the scene. (OK, not that quickly, not as we would judge.)

I had picked the spot for my perfect sunset image. But I had misjudged both my time and my perseverance to endure the icy wind.. I tried, I really did. But that last blast shook the desire right out of me - I wanted something hot to eat & I wanted it now! Forget the sunset & forget hiking down in the dark. I rounded a switchback & stretched out before me was a golden light over the bench below, filtered by the clouds. I quickly shot a few images then continued my hike down towards hot food.

Maybe I didn't need to stay for sunset after all.

Kissed by the Setting Sun

When heading out on a photo trip, I will sometimes set myself an assignment - work on macros, play w/ depth of field - whatever might work for the destination. If I'm heading to a mountain meadow, I might play with macros for the wildflowers or I might play with depth of field highlighting one flower with soft focus all around, or sharp focus for the whole scene. For a recent trip to the Oregon Coast, I set myself an assignment of playing with shutter speed and the waves. I love the look of smooth waves that you get when you have a slow shutter speed and the Oregon coast is perfect for that. I will share some of my images from that self-assignment in another post. What can also happen while I'm out shooting is that I'll give myself another assignment - one I hadn't thought of previously. This second assignment was capturing sun stars.

Another photographer in the group was working on capturing sun stars which gave me an idea. While waiting for the ideal light just after the sun sets, why not see if I could create sun stars? I had already positioned my camera well before the sun came close to the rocks, but as I watched its progression along the sky I began to get more excited. Will the sun really "touch" top of the sea stack? Could I really be that fortuitous? I waited, I'd like to say patiently but I wasn't. I watched the sun's progress, the waves swirl around rocks below, a sea lion's head popped out of the water, a seagull flew between the sea stacks. Then finally! The moment I had hoped for - the sun began to slide behind the top of the sea stack. I had already set up my camera for the shot.

I knew from lectures and articles that sun stars are created when you stop down your aperture as far as you can. The star is made from the high amount of light -it leaks through the leaves of the aperture itself. The farther your aperture is stopped down the more intense the sun star. So I closed my lens down to f/32 and set my shutter speed to compensate. I metered off the clouds as they were the closest to middle grey in the scene.

I ended up adjusting my exposure slightly as the sun went down, but the end result was something I had hoped for and luckily got.

There's a big hole in the tire

Memory - Crater Lake

Early in our relationship, Michael & I started road-tripping. We both enjoy the open road and find you see so much of the world while exploring the roads throughout the countryside. Our first weekend together was spent driving the North Cascades Loop. A few weeks later we drove to Alaska & back in three days - but that's another story. And that is in fact one of the things we collect while on road trips - stories.

This story begins on a Labor Day weekend. We had 3 days to play and the open road before us. The Oregon Coast sounded like a good place to head, but wait, I had never been to Crater Lake before and Michael hadn't been there for years. We had the time - no schedule actually - and turned off the highway to drive into the South Cascades towards this wonder created by nature.

As we drove along the road around the crater, oohing and aahing at the scenery, Michael forgot to mind where he was going and for a brief second drove off the road. He quickly recovered but the damage was already done - volcanic rocks are very sharp and they cut right through the tire. The sun was setting and I wanted to be up at the overlook for the color show. Michael pulled out the donut tire and jack while I grabbed the dog and camera to head up the road to the overlook, hopefully making it before sunset.

I made it and just as the sun was setting, so did Michael. But there was another problem - the donut tire had very little air in it. The best wee could do was drive 5 miles an hour around the rest of the crater and hope , just hope, that the gas station at the park village had air. Time and dark scenery seemed to go on forever. We were saved at the park village as they did have air, plus we were able to get sandwich fixin's for the trip to Medford. Hopefully we could get our tire fixed there.

Ever try and get a tire fixed in a smallish town on a Sunday? Forget it. We had to continue the rest of our road-trip on the donut. Stay tuned for that great story.

Obstruction Pt - Deer Park

9/24/06 - 7.6 miles

Good things do come to those who wait. I have been wanting to hike this trail for a little over two years now - more than any other in Olympic Park. The descriptions are so enticing, talking about views that last forever above treeline closer to the clouds than one could imagine.

This 7.6 mile trail is usually done as a thru-hike starting at one trail head and ending at the other, so having two cars is necessary unless you want to do the complete 15 mile round trip. We had attempted the trail last year in late June with my sister but were thwarted by mud & snow on the Obstruction Point road so opted instead for the High Ridge trail and the abundance of wildflowers there. When June/July rolled around again this year, I couldn't find anyone with an available day and an extra car to hike it with us so we only hiked out to Elk Mountain then back through Badger Meadows - a fabulous hike in its own right. However, that day was cloudy and we only were given hints of the beautiful views that lay beyond.

After Michael & I bought up our second car, we had a good excuse to try it ourselves. We left home early and drove around to park one car at Deer Park then headed back out and around for Obstruction Point. Michael later figured that the driving between both trail heads for the day would be well over 100 miles - not to mention the drive from Auburn & back. We didn't even start hiking until noon. (We did stop on the way to eat breakfast and pick up lunch.)

The flowers that had decorated our trail only two months before were now dried and colorless. But we were not saddened by their demise. I wonder if we would have noticed them if they had been in bloom. The mountains that rose to the south of us drew our attention away from what lay at our feet. Sitting stately in the center with its crown-like peaks was Mt Olympus reigning over the other but no less stately mountains of the Olympics. We steadily climbed up the hillside, each step revealing more of the mountains and enticed us with what was over that ridge to our north. It wasn't too long before we were able to look upon the splendor to the north. Mt Baker rose from the mists on the other side of Puget Sound, but it was not Puget Sound we were looking down upon.

We saw at our feet the peninsula cities of Sequim and Port Angeles and their distinctive sand bars. Beyond was the Strait of Juan de Fuca with Victoria and Vancouver Island just beyond. Lunch was eaten at the top of Elk Mountain, looking upon the same view with the inside passage sparkling just beyond Vancouver Island and the snowy peaks of the BC cascades beckoning us to explore. Off to the east, the trail wound its way around another hill before descending back into the trees. After lunch, we descended sharply, continuing our way to Deer Park. Several years ago I would have turned back at this part of the trail - the descent was narrow and worked its way across a shale slope. But I confidently set my feet and poles and slowly worked my way down. I was a bit saddened when we lost our northern view, but our southern view was still spectacular - revealing hidden gems in the valleys as they reached up to the rocky faces above. It was about this point when we came across the swarms of gnats - so thick they became a black cloud blocking my vision.

I began to notice after we made it to treeline that spring must be wonderful down here. There were remnants of heathers, lupine & lilies speckling the forest floor. The floor must be covered in either avalanche lilies or glacier lilies during the spring. (Mental note to self - get back & do this during the flowering months.) The descent through the trees was farther than either of us expected and we were not looking forward to what must be a steep climb back up to Deer Park. Boy were we fooled. The trail here follows an old roadbed and the climb out was as gradual as the climb in and in no time we were back on the road to pick up our other car. We waited for sunset near Obstruction Point and made our way home again.