Iris in the Rain

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The coyote was my last frame of the day, shot on the way out to Drake's Beach at Pt. Reyes National Seashore. I saw him from the car as he was hunting in a beautiful iris-filled meadow. I pulled over and put my long lens on, then stepped out of the car into a light drizzle, propping the heavy lens on a fence post. Unfortunately, the coyote spotted me right away and I got just two shots off. It was my second coyote sighting of the day. The first had been out on Tomales Point, where a very furry fellow crossed the trail maybe fifty feet in front of me, soon followed by a small herd of elk. It was raining, and visibility was extremely low at the time, and I probably cut a frightening silhouette with full rain gear and umbrella.

A friend told me last week that Pierce Point had way more wildflowers than Chimney Rock, which I had just visited with my wife. He wasn't lying. There is a very good iris bloom going on just south of Pierce Ranch.

It was raining constantly, so I had to do my photography from beneath an umbrella. Handling a tripod and umbrella at the same time, being very careful to keep droplets off the lens, is not my favorite way to approach a subject. It's an unwieldy process, as you can imagine.

I had hemmed and hawed a little bit from home as to whether I should even make the long drive out to Point Reyes. It can be a fun trip if you don't get stuck behind a pokey driver who won't use pull-outs to let people pass, and I had mixed luck on that score, as usual. But a couple other factors weighed in favor of going. First, the forecast was for very light wind. The storm wasn't going to be a howler and make it virtually impossible to work under an umbrella. Second, although I would love to have had great light and good visibility to photograph the meadows and landscapes, this moody and broody stuff is what Point Reyes looks like much of the time. Indeed, by the time I got back from my hike, the fog in this area had reached total coverage, reducing visibility to maybe thirty meters.

The beginning of the Tomales Point Trail drew a thin line between thick meadows of wild mustard and radish which are still just waist-high. They'd have made a nice foreground for landscape shots -- if only the background of the landscape had been visible.

There were some iris patches out there too, but nothing like the profusion in the elk sanctuary on the approach to Pierce Ranch. There were lots of California poppies and cream cups, species that only open when the sun comes out, so I could only imagine how gorgeous the hike would be on a clear day.

I saw quite a few elk cows, but no bulls or calves. I think the fog's limited visibility made them extra spooky. I had to wonder about the coyote I saw because it had been much closer to the elk than I was, yet I (not the coyote) had spooked them. Had they not seen the coyote? Or were they simply unconcerned by its presence? The coyote was big, with a thick, healthy coat, but would probably be no match for a grown elk.

The rain let up for about fifteen minutes near the end of my return hike, so I thought I'd check out a nice patch of low-growing fiddleneck near the parking area. It soon started raining again, so I had to continue working under an umbrella, this time on the soaked ground with a macro lens. With rain pants and jacket, though, I hardly noticed the wet ground and was able to keep my attention on holding the umbrella over the camera.

Shooting in the rain is not my favorite thing, but once I had the hang of it my only regret was that there were so few species to photograph.

There was just enough of a breeze to make things more difficult, so extreme close-ups with focus stacks weren't really an option.

This sign on this weathered old post above Tomales Bay State Park caught my attention. I wonder if "protected" means no huckleberry-picking.

Fog had greatly reduced visibility out around Pierce Point, so I thought I'd drive over to see if it was any better out at Chimney Rock. I knew from last week's visit that Chimney Rock didn't have the spectacular iris show that Pierce Point does, but there is still a nice variety of wildflowers all the way out at the point. Out there with my wife I only had my point-n-shoot, and I thought I'd like to go back with my real camera to photograph the wildflowers with the cliffs in the background.

I made a short side trip up Mt. Vision Road, and a ranger stopped where I'd just parked on the roadside and was gathering my photo gear. I'd been reading on the West Marin Feed's Facebook page that there have been a few car break-ins lately, so I'd stashed all my gear in the trunk when I hiked out on Tomales Point. The ranger also warned me about break-ins and said there'd been another one just that morning. 

I stopped briefly at North Beach and saw a few surfers out. The waves had probably been much better at low tide. I took another detour down to Drake's Beach, figuring if I could see Chimney Rock, then I'd buy a snack at the store and continue on out there. The fog was thick, though, so I decided to save that trip for another weekend.

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April Fool

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I'm an April fool, and same goes for the rest of the year.

Poking around a mountain to see what I might find.

Found most of it before, but it's always new.

I stop shooting just long enough to go out of my mind.

And then I find . . . resistance is futile.

Flowers too small to photograph, or at least I thought so at first.

Too cool to be fooled, Elizabethan leaves.

The monk of Potrero Meadow noting that the geocache remains stashed in its allotted space.

The pontiff of Potrero Meadow, adorned with moss, waits for azaleas to bloom.

Sunshine warms the lupines and perfume wafts into the air.

A fool and his lupines are too soon parted.

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Season of Renewal

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It's always good to be able to push away the obstruction, come out of the cave and embrace a new day. Especially if you can do it with someone you love in a place you love.

Among other projects of renewal this season, I finally broke down and bought a new computer. Because Adobe no longer supports CS2, my upgraded version of CS5 Photoshop became useless, so I subscribed to the CC version and have already fallen in love with the content-aware fill tool. So much better than the clone tool for cleaning up dust spots.

The new machine is also so fast that I no longer have time to brush my teeth or do laundry while HDR operations run, and focus stacks run so fast I can't quite believe it. 

I've also moved my entire image library to a single 5TB external hard drive (my old drives will be used for back-ups). I haven't been able to fit all my images in one place in years, and it's great. I re-imported everything into the CC version of Lightroom and now have a well-structured and complete catalog.

We saw a couple of wild turkeys and several deer today. Seems like it's been a while since I saw any deer out enjoying the hillsides. I guess a few years of drought have been hard on just about all the wildlife, so it's good to see things being back to the "old" normal (while still feeling anxious about the "new" normal). 

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Winter's End

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I hesitated to get up this morning and didn't arrive at the gate until after 7 a.m., so I'm not sure if this was as good as the sunrise color got, or if I missed the peak. The combination of clouds and fog gave the sun just a little window to shine through.

There were several other photographers already there when I arrived. It used to be rare to see anyone else first thing in the morning, but that has been changing over the last year.

I checked out the calla lilies again, having noticed from a distance last week that there were many more blooms on the patch, but it's already gone well past its prime. When I saw that the lilies were a mess I hurried back to hang out with the lupines. What a brilliant morning.

I spent a lot of time just taking things in without taking any pictures. I was surrounded by bird activity, from chickadees to flickers to acorn and pileated woodpeckers, wild turkeys, band-tailed pigeons. And so much green.

It's really a great time to get up there. I think if you rarely go for a hike on Mt. Tam, this is the time to do it, especially along the Coast Trail. There's also still plenty of water in the creeks, so you could pick up a waterfall if you chose the right route.

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March Rain Falls

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I waited for the rain to let up at home in San Francisco, checked the weather radar, then drove up to Mt. Tam to see the water flowing. Get it while I can.

It started raining again once I was on the mountain. I parked above Laurel Dell and faced the car into the wind so I could enjoy being in the middle of the storm while remaining warm and dry. It wasn't long before the rain let up and I took my chances. There was no possibility of using an umbrella up on Bolinas Ridge, but the wind wasn't too bad once I got down to the creek.

It didn't actually rain while I was down there, but I needed the umbrella to protect my camera under the dripping forest.

It's always a treat to see the falls really going off. I saw two more banana slugs eating lichen, but I didn't try to photograph them this time. They don't extend their eye-stalks all the way out because the branchy lichen recoils and jitters after they try to rasp some into their mouth.

Kind of cluttered, but I wanted to show the falls through a "normal" 50mm lens.

The rushing water was so loud that I kept being surprised to turn around and find someone standing a few feet away from me. Quite a few people hiked down to check out the falls.

Back up topside I couldn't resist walking among the rolling green hillsides. I might have to shoot this vantage point again some clear day at sunset while the grass remains green.

Looking out over the vista point at McKennan Gulch I could see more rain heading inbound, and I just got back to my car in time to stay dry. I love the green of March on Mt. Tam, before the grass gets tall and the thistles come out. Maybe we'll have a good bloom of sky lupine on the hills this year.

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Petals & Glyphs

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It's been two or three years since I drove so many miles in so little time, but it was worth a little seasonal insanity to finally see this iconic petroglyph site, complete with the snowy peaks of the Eastern Sierra in the distance. 

I drove out of San Francisco at 3:30 in the morning and was in Death Valley in time for lunch.

It was a pleasant 75 degrees, so I found a likely spot to pull over and mosey around. There was quite a bit of Mojave desert star and desert fivespot to be found, but all the fivespot blossoms had resident mites (Balaustium sp.) (Bug Guide link).

Some blossoms had hordes of them, and they were often speedily scuttling around. Were they chasing each other or just feeling a bit of a nectar rush?

The desert star and fivespot were just tiny plants that you had to walk around to notice, but a lot of people were drawn to Death Valley this year because of a large bloom of desert gold. With so many showy yellow flowers all over the place, it was nice to find this purple phacelia (Phacelia crenulata).

The desert gold was nice too. The "super bloom" was farther south and is probably over by now. I started to drive down there, but the pickings were getting very slim even south of Badwater. Right now it's best between Artists Pallette and the Beatty Cutoff. I'd heard that it was quite crowded but I was surprised just how crowded it was, even on a Tuesday.

Unfortunately I no longer have the Jeep Cherokee, and my Mazda 3 was not going to get me very far off the beaten tracks. I parked on the shoulder north of Daylight Pass and walked east to escape the rush for a while.

One of the more memorable and enjoyable things I did was to spend a half-hour or so just lying on my back in a sandy wash. Ah, peace at last -- and no bugs!

I'd planned to stay overnight in Death Valley, but I was quickly worn out by the unexpected crowds. The sun went down as I drove west across the Panamint Valley.

I spent the night at a motel in Bishop and got an early start the next morning to look for my petroglyph site. Bishop has the most stunning view in the morning. As I was getting coffee in the motel office I mentioned to the lady behind the desk that I often look at the Bishop web cam from my desk in San Francisco, and it was great to be seeing it in person.

The last time I went looking for these petroglyphs I walked up the wrong trail, so I didn't get my hopes up too much when I started up this other trail. Up at the top of the bluffs I picked up some recent sign of a hiker with his dog and followed the tracks to the base of a jumble of boulders. I climbed up toward the top of the jumble and was soon looking back down on a massive, flat boulder face covered with prehistoric rock art.

Once I climbed up to the "canvas" I took some time to just take in all the art before digging into my camera pack. I made a few images and thought about what I was seeing. Had there been a practical purpose to these marks painstakingly pecked into the rock? Did it have spiritual significance in the way the images related to the landscape? What was the cultural significance of this place? Was the art here serious or whimsical, or maybe a mix of both? The images are deceptively simple. However, there were a few places nearby where modern people had made marks on the rocks, and seeing their pathetic, juvenile works raised my esteem for the enigmatic work of these ancient artists.

I'd driven down through the San Joaquin Valley, crossing the southern Sierra at Walker Pass, and now I headed north on I-395, planning to re-cross the Sierra at Lake Tahoe. I made a couple of short side-trips up to McGee Canyon and Convict Lake. Although I had a pocket camera on me, I had to run back to the car to get my D800 when I saw these cool little ice floes. The wind had just come up and broken them loose, and in another 15 minutes that whole ice sheet in the distance had blown to shore.

The Mono Craters had a nice dusting of snow. In fact, many of the mountains in the farther distance east were covered with snow, and someday, not too many years from now, I hope to do a lot more exploring out there. 

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