Traveling Light

Fence Lizard Shows Off His Blue Belly

I couldn't have asked for a nicer day to ride my ebike up to Mt. Tam to try out the Panasonic FZ-80 point-and-shoot camera I just bought. Thursday was sunny but not too hot, and I headed north around 9 a.m. with a light tail wind, which thankfully hadn't turned into a raging headwind by the time I left the mountain a little after noon. I spent about an hour hiking a short distance to set up my trail camera, then poked around with the FZ-80.

The first digital camera I ever got was a Panasonic FZ-5 which I eventually lost at Carrizo Plain. It was so small it must have fallen out of the car or something without my noticing. The FZ-80 is bigger, but still quite small, and the electronic viewfinder is probably bigger and better, but it's still a major concession compared to a DSLR. I found it difficult to see small lepidopterans like blues and skippers in the viewfinder, and I hoped in vain that the camera was focusing on those subjects, but alas it focused on the backgrounds. I'm somewhat confident that I'll be able to sort that out with a little practice. Unfortunately I find the rear display too unwieldy for any kind of telephoto work.

The highlight was spotting a couple of juvenile California Giant Salamanders (Dicamptodon ensatus) lounging in a creek. I once stumbled on a huge adult down at Potrero Meadow without even knowing we had such monsters on Mt. Tam, but it escaped so fast I had no chance to photograph it. 

As always, you can click on the photos to see them larger.

Juvenile California Giant Salamander with Water Strider Shadow

Grappletail Dragonfly

High Noon at Rock Spring Meadow

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Morning Walk

San Francisco Sunrise

Once again I was thinking about the morning light from time gone by when I ventured out to photograph the sunrise this morning. A few weeks ago I was on my morning walk when the sun was coming up farther south, and its rays lit that haze over the bay with a fiery orange glow. Foggy mornings ensued, precluding any chance to see it again, but when I saw a clear deck with just a few clouds in the sky this morning I excused myself from my usual exercise regime and hiked my camera gear over to Grandview Park in the hope of a pleasant surprise.

Gazing out over the city skyline it was immediately obvious that the sun was coming up too far north to create the blaze of glory I recalled. The sunrise changes so quickly, coming a little earlier each day, and a little more from the north. Soon it will reach its northern zenith and head back the other way, so I'll keep an eye out for the next big sunrise flare event.

I was disappointed that the SkyStar Wheel in Golden Gate Park wasn't lit up as it sometimes is, but I photographed it anyway with Angel Island in the background and a little bit of orange swirl in the sky. It made me think of a song by Journey.

As the sun climbed above the bank of clouds it brushed the landscape with its light, from the lupines and monkey flowers at the park, to the ridges of Mt. Tamalpais.

Wheel & The Sky

View Toward Mt. Tamalpais

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East Side

View of East Peak with Flowering Toyon

When you exit the 101 freeway onto Highway 1 to go up to Mt. Tam, there's a brilliant California buckeye next to the road just past the Holiday Inn Express, on the Coyote Creek side of the road. Just a couple of weeks ago, that tree was at its showiest peak, its crown completely covered with pristine panicles of white flowers. I still had that vision of loveliness in mind when I decided to revisit a trail on the east side of Mt. Tam that I last hiked in May of 2014, where I photographed a ravine with a river of buckeyes that were flowering but had yet to reach their peak.

I was pretty sure the peak was going to be over by now, but I decided to go up there anyway yesterday morning. The approach took me past Phoenix Lake, and I tried to discern anything unusual out there due to either the drought or the surprise rain we got over the weekend. Some dead trees along the edge of the lake seemed unusual, but had probably been there a long time, maybe having been drowned by higher lake levels. I couldn't detect many noticeable effects from the rain. The trail wasn't dusty anymore, but the ravines that crossed it were dry.

Even though it had been eight years since I last hiked out that way, the trail seemed familiar, and I immediately recognized the ravine of buckeyes that I was looking for. Unfortunately, the sweet-scented flowers were well past prime. I made a mental note to remember this hike next year, and I'm thinking that a photograph at sunset could be great if there were some interesting clouds to catch the color. Getting a nice sunset in the second half of May could be a tall order, though.

Wiry Snapdragon
(Antirrhinum vexillocalyculatum)

East Peak from Buckeye Ravine

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