Best 10 of 2011

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I anticipated this moment of truth -- participating in Jim Goldstein's end-of-year blog project -- with a certain hesitancy. For one thing, it's always hard to pick your own "best" photos, much less whittle down those 11,572 NEF files to an easily digestible 10 pictures.

For another thing, I've been on a little guilt trip because my blog (now five years old) is still called "Natural California" even though I've hardly traveled at all during the last year. That means the vast majority of my photos were made within a fairly small radius from my home in San Francisco.

Although I did little traveling, I had an interesting year of showing my work outside the confines of the blog. I had a photo in a juried art show in Mendocino County, had a nice group of photos published (including the April-June cover) in Bay Nature magazine, and most recently had a photo essay on Mount Tamalpais in the December issue of Marin Magazine. 

Winter's half-way mark has arrived. A new year is just around the corner. In the spirit of taking stock of the past before forging ahead, I hereby present, in chronological order, ten of my favorite photos of 2011.

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The first time I saw this bobcat hunting meadow voles on a grassy hillside (January 7th) he was in his prime. I hadn't even thought of naming him at that point. Then I met another photographer, Joe Brady, who told me he called a different photogenic wildcat in the area "DeNiro" after the charismatic actor, Bob(cat) DeNiro. When I thought about the very "rufous" coloration of this particular Lynx rufus, I hit upon "Redford", after Bob(cat) Redford. Unfortunately, Redford was struck a month or so after I made this shot with a debilitating illness, some sort of parasite that caused him to lose much of the weight that made him an alpha male. He remained charismatic despite his weakness (even frightening some local hikers due to his increased lack of shyness around people). I kept hoping to see him improving, but I never did. On April 29th, I photographed him for the last time.  

Shooting the sunrise from Drake's Beach at Point Reyes has been done many times. I wanted to try a little different take on it so I made my way to the top of the bluffs in the dark, passing through a cloud of skunk-scent on the way. I stepped carefully to avoid falling to the beach below while seeking out the best iris with the best view, then waiting for nature to take its course.

As these bull elk with velvet antlers stopped to keep an eye on an encroaching photographer, they ambled into a circle and completed  the scene with its verdant carpet of grass and freckling of purple iris blossoms. The moment lasted only a few seconds before the magic circle was broken.

I almost didn't include this image because it's somewhat alarming -- an aesthetic harmony, a beautiful sadness, that most would prefer to turn away from. The mystery of life feeding on life is a central fact for us all, a kind of axis around which we build our lives. I'm grateful to have been able to photograph such a quotidian moment in the life and death of these two animals.

If I hadn't gone up the coast to Gualala to hang a photo in a gallery exhibition I might not have visited Salt Point State Park at all this year. Thankfully I arrived at the end of May to witness a fantastic wildflower explosion, perhaps made all the stronger by the first wet winter in four years. What made it stand out even more for me was spooking up a killdeer that had been sitting on four speckled eggs in her nest. Here, she has scuttled away from the nest, pretending to have a broken wing in order to entice me away from her brood.

Ever since I was a kid in Hawaii I've loved the underwater world, and this past year I visited Fitzgerald Marine Reserve probably more times than in any other year. I still feel like a novice photographer on that reef. It's often nose-runningly cold, slippery, wet, salty, windy, too dark, too bright, and just downright difficult trying to work out  there. The number of keepers I generate can be depressingly low, but every now and then the elements come together and offer the chance to photograph some tidepool magic.

I was a little too early for the Kokanee salmon run on Taylor Creek when I stopped by with a friend after a Sierra backpacking trip, but I went back with my wife a month or so later and was almost too late. Many of the salmon had already spawned and died, but there were still healthy numbers of fish. I'd looked forward to once again photographing a thickly populated group of the colorful salmon, but my favorite shots turned out to be of single fish, including this portrait of a spawner swimming above rounded pebbles in crystal-clear waters.

After visiting the salmon, Pam and I headed over to the Eastern Sierras to check out the fall color. Instead of going to all the popular spots (which we've been to before and will certainly visit again), we took it easy and spent most of our time in the relatively small area of Lee Vining Canyon. While Pam painted and worked on her journal I scouted the fishermen's trails along the creek and felt like I'd reached Shangri-La when I entered this forest of warmly glowing aspens with its thick, cool carpet of ancient equisetum.

The skies were clear when I left home to check out the sandhill cranes off the interstate south of Sacramento. I ran into heavy fog on Hwy. 12 out of Suisun City, but out along my destination of Woodbridge Road it wasn't too bad -- for a while. It was still dark when I arrived, and mostly clear, but as the crescent moon and, finally, the sun came up, so did the fog. Even a foggy day with the sandhill cranes is a good day, though, and I was happy to be out there. I've been waiting for a chance at some clear weather ever since I made this photo in late October, with no luck so far.

I couldn't post ten favorite photos without including at least one macro image. This elegant, dew-laden moss sporangium must have been the first of its cohort to sprout. Usually where there's one, there are many, and I don't believe I've ever seen one so nicely isolated on its leafy bed. I created a 16-image focus stack to keep the finger-like leaf tendrils in focus along with the sinuous stalk, while keeping the depth of field shallow to minimize the background's distracting elements.

That's it. Ten photos. I didn't get to include anything from my Ansel Adams Wilderness trip, from my interactions with DeNiro the bobcat, or even my first-ever snow on Mt. Tamalpais. So it goes. For many more of my favorite photos of 2011, please check out my online gallery at Zenfolio.

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