See the image larger.

Yesterday was a first. It was the first time that I specifically set out to use my boat as a shooting platform for my business, as opposed to a recreational escape. For my current book project, I’ve been photographing things related to California and history. A recent news story caught my attention whereby it was stated that the 50+ old WWII ships parked in Suisun Bay are supposed to be sent off for cleaning and eventual recycling.

Since the turn of the century, the Mothball Fleet had a new flagship with the arrival of the historic USS IOWA Battleship (BB 61). Since that time, this proud warrior ship, and defender of many U.S. Military personnel has sat idle, bididng her time, and waiting for her final disposition. My son went with me on this trip, and even helped steer our boat into position while daddy took pictures. (Read: Went to work.) As we cruised around the area working various water-bound vantage points, this became another great chance to work in a life-learning lesson for my son. When I told him they want to scrap the ship, he asked why no one wants to save it. It wasn’t an easy answer to explain why the people of San Francisco turned down the chance to save this ship as a museum due to a culturally-based political bias against the military.

Now I’m as peace-luvin’, granola & Big Mac eating, anti-war type as they come, but that doesn’t mean I’m anti-military. I have the greatest respect for all members of the military, including members of my own & extended family that have served. I also feel it’s important for all of us to at least show due respect for something that played such a vital role in our country’s history, something not lost on any member of what Tom Brokaw called the “Greatest Generation“. It’s like if you ever go to visit the Memorial for the crew of the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor; pro-military or anti-war, there’s just something about it….

I remember when I was a kid, just about the same age as my son, I got a chance to tour the USS Massachusetts. It’s a memory that stays with me today more than 30 years later. Apparently there are a couple groups trying to save the USS IOWA, and I truly hope they succeed. To see such a proud and mighty vessel sitting quietly is one thing if she’s serving as a rememberence, a reminder, and a teacher. But it’s something all together different to think she’s quietly biding her time before being towed off to be chopped up and melted down as nothing more than mere scrap.

For more info, check out: SAVE THE USS IOWA and Historic Ships Memorial at Pacific Square.

Oh yeah, and as for my son and I, we spent the rest of that November day on flat calm water and almost summer-like weather with temps hoovering near 80 degrees, fishing. The only thing missing from this perfect day was… the fish.

It was a long time coming; almost eight full months. As I drove, I kept hearing that old cowboy song reverbarating over and over in my head, “Back in the Saddle Again, Yes I’m back in the Saddle again.” It was a good feeling.

Ever since my accident, falling off that cliff in Death Valley back in late February, I hadn’t yet had the chance to go off and do a real working photo trip. Yes, I made several short ’single-subject’ trips related to my current book project, and I even took my kids to see the Grand Canyon. But I hadn’t just jumped in my truck and taken off on a multi week, work-related photo shoot. That is, until a couple weeks ago. The kids were back in school, my wife’s big work project had cleared a major hurdle, and my deadline was starting to loom on the horizon.

I bolted over Tioga Pass road to beat a major seasonal storm that would surely close that pass, and started my shoot at Bodie State Historic Park. From there I went to Bishop, in part to hold up in a hotel while the storm passed, and to revisit the Mountain Light Gallery – as per my last post. While in Bishop, I connected up via email with friend and fellow photographer Jim Goldstein, and learned that he was heading to Death Valley, a place that had been on my mind for nearly all of this year. I know being over in the Eastern Sierra, I would be just a hop, skip, and jump away from Death Valley, and gosh if I wasn’t dead set on going back to where I had my accident, and seeing if I couldn’t find my old pair of glasses that I lost during the fall. I also wanted to finish the trip I’d been on back when I had my accident. (OK – I also found a reason or two to go there for my book project.)

I must admit, I had those nervous butterflies in my stomach as I drove toward “the spot”. Not only did I get a good look this time of where it happened, but I found both the bush where I had my midnight campfire, as well as my glasses at the base of a bush along the bottom of the fence.

Photos: The bush and campfire ‘ring’ near where I ‘woke up’ on the desert floor in the middle of the night. The ‘cliff’ and where I parked that night. In the light of day, I figured the total fall was closer to 35′, rather than the 40′ I guestimated looking upwards in the dark desert night.

When I finally got back in my truck and drove out of the park, and I was able to reflect on the shots I’d gotten in the park on this trip, I felt like I’d conquered a quiet little demon. Finally, I was on the road working again, and making new images. My perspective once again renewed; I’m glad to still be here, and so happy to share my images with everyone.

“Spirits in the Air” – Cloud rising into blue sky, Eastern Sierra, near Bishop, California

It’s hard to explain; yesterday I spent an hour at the Mountain Light Gallery in Bishop. It was the first time I’ve been there in years, and only the second time that I’ve been there since the plane crash that killed Galen & Barbara Rowell. As I walked around the gallery, there was such a flood of memories, that I could almost sense their presence. More than that, I could almost hear their voices.

Galen was the closest person to a surrogate father figure outside my family, and especially after my own dad had passed away. I’d always felt it was my dad’s hand from beyond that guided me into the door at Mountain Light back in 1990.

I know that both Galen’s kids take great pride in their dad’s achievements, and they’ve done a great job preserving and continuing his legacy. But Barbara had no kids. The gallery in Bishop was her “baby”. I know how much of her heart and soul she put into that place, making it the absolute best it could be. As I walked out the door, I said silently under my breath, “It’s still here, Barbara. Your baby’s still here.”

This morning, while shooting sunrise in the Buttermilk Region, I was focused on the mountains in front of me, covered in the first real seasonal coat of snow. Then something made me turn around, and this is what I saw. “Holy nuts!” I said as I quickly framed the scene. I only had time to burst off a few frames before the cloud had completely disappeared. At this instant, while looking through the viewfinder, all I could think of was Galen’s famous shot of the Split Rock & Cloud which he’d taken within a mile of where I was standing. When I chimped back through the frames to see what I got, I was instantly hit by the feeling that this image was a gift, an acknowledgment perhaps of my own acknowledgment the day before.

What it was that made me turn around at that exact moment, who knows? I have an idea… Once again, all I could say was, “Thanks.”

See the image larger here.

Footnote: This was actually the second time in the same area that I walked away from a shot with that same feeling. The other was when I took this image, the morning of Galen & Barbara’s memorial in Bishop.

One of my photographer friends, Guy Tal, posted on his blog, er… web journal, yesterday that he was perhaps one of the last people to ride the photographic coat tails of Ken Burns’ recent PBS documentary film series on the National Parks.

So as to not be the only photographer left who hasn’t made a post on the subject, here’s mine:

I thought the film was great. But as I watched it, one scene stuck out for me more than most others, in part because of my current book project on California’s history. They presented an archival photo of Hetch Hetchy Valley, that was widely considered to be the ‘little sister’ of Yosemite Valley. Last week I was at Hetch Hetchy to photography the reservoir for my book. I also hope to use the same archival shot to show what now lies submerged beneath the water.

As I walked across the dam, that archival image was etched into my brain. It was all I could do to look out over this body of water, and think to myself that what laid before me was done to feed the thirst of a city, San Francisco. It was that thirst, the need for water by a rapidly growing population, that brought men to dam and flood this beautiful haven.

There continues to be a strong environmental push to undam the lake and restore Hetch Hetchy Valley. It’s a nice thought, but I’m afraid I just don’t see it happening anytime soon. The cries of a thirst-ravaged city makes for a powerful political lobby Besides, where else would San Francisco get all of it’s water from? It’s too bad the technology for desalination of ocean water doesn’t exist yet. Oh wait, it does. Must be dollars and NIMBY-ism that keeps Hetch Hetch a flooded shell of it’s former, and natural beauty.

Two great tests today. The first is this test of the hosted embed widget from my PhotoShelter Archive. (It works.)

The second, and much more significant venture, is more akin to that Anakin Skywalker’s trek over to the Dark Side. This is my very first HDR processed image I’ve posted in public.

I never had a problem with people working to increase the dynamic range of an image. However, I’ve stayed away from the automated HDR processes, preferring to have more manual control. I shot this image a number of years ago, specifically with enough brackets to produce an HDR file. So, today the stars aligned, and an unseen force pushed me to hit the until now rarely touched “Merge to HDR” button.

I’ve seen a lot of bad HDR, and I’ve seen some very good HDR. For myself, when I use the term HDR, I specifically refer to an automated computer process, vs. more manual methods like blends & multi-processed files. And by BAD HDR, I mean some really garish, hyper-haloed, day glo-colored, and mostly unnatural looking shots. I certainly don’t have anything against photographers who process images like that, but it’s just not my visual cup o’ tea. My hope is to keep a more natural look and feel akin to the visual palette that I grew up with (photographically speaking), mostly in look and feel like my old velvia slides.

So will I continue to use HDR. I dunno… we’ll see. (Heard: faint voice of the Dark Side calling.)

And as as footnote to that last ‘look & feel’ comment, I always like to point people to my portfolio and see how easy it is for them to guess which are slide-based, and which are digital-based images.