There’s been a lot of discussion lately in adventure circles about the use of GPS (Global Positioning System) and PLB units (Personal Locator Beacons) for wilderness navigation and safety. While I have a portable GPS system that can be used in my car or handheld, I find its true value lies in showing me the drive time to the next shoot location and when the sun will rise or set rather than every bend in the trail.

On backcountry ski trips I’ll mark important waypoints like camp and water locations or a critical landmark in a tricky mountain descent, but then I’ll turn it off until that information is needed. Adventure by design requires an element of uncertainty and I feel that there is already enough technology in the wilderness between digital cameras, batteries, solar chargers and radios that I prefer to leave as much as possible out of the equation.

Having said that, it’s still nice to have a small piece of insurance tucked away in the pack in case things don’t go as planned. A PLB is one option, which is basically an “all or nothing” device that sends a distress signal with your coordinates via satellite to the local emergency or rescue service. Unfortunately, these units don’t allow any type of communication as to the nature of the situation and are too often deployed accidentally putting an unnecessary strain on emergency services.

Satellite phones are another option that allow for direct communication almost anywhere in the world however they are too expensive and heavy for the average user and are typically used only by large expeditions. Fortunately the SPOT personal messaging system has bridged the gap with a small, cost effective unit that allows static messages to be sent to any e-mail or phone via text using GPS and ComStar technology. It’s three transmitting options include a personal message with a link to your exact location in Google Earth, a personal (friends and family) help message which can be used to notify of a non-emergency delay in the trip, or a full emergency call similar to a PLB.

This image is from the summit of Bear Creek Spire at nearly 14,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada Mountains where my SPOT is sending a message home. It had been a beautiful climb with good friends Vic and Amy, but several delays had caused us to reach the summit late in the day followed by a technical descent in the dark. Although this was not an emergency situation, my wife Maureen was glad to see when we had reached the top and even more relieved when she received another message showing that we were safely back in camp.

Tucked away in British Columbia’s Yoho National Park, Lake O’Hara is one of the crown jewels of the Canadian Rockies.  But this alpine wonder is easily overlooked with the majestic scenery just to the east in adjacent Banff and Jasper National Parks.  Just seven miles west of Lake Louise on the Trans-Canada highway, Lake O’hara’s pristine setting is preserved in part because it’s located at the end of a seven mile dirt road accessible only by reserved shuttle or foot. Limited accommodations are available at the lakeside lodge, the nearby campground, or one of several huts run by the Canadian Alpine Club, but reservations are required and fill up quickly in the summer months.

In the fall, the turquoise water of this glacially-fed lake is a beautiful contrast to the golden larch trees that dot the surrounding cliffs. Like many of the lakes in the Canadian Rockies a high level of glacial silt (also known as rock flour) gives the water its incredible blue hue. Wildlife is abundant in the area and mountain goats can frequently be seen on rocky slopes and ridge lines above the lake along with hoary marmots and pikas. Nearby Lakes Oesa, Opabin, and McArthur are equally breathtaking if you have more than a day in the area and are accessed by an excellent network of trails. For the photographer, the stunning alpine scenery of the Lake O’hara basin is a world-class setting on par with any of the more famous sister parks of the Canadian Rockies

Each year during the first week in October something special happens in the skies above Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’m not referring to the glowing fall aspens or the fiery sunsets over the Sangre de Christo Mountains, but a sea of giant orbs floating gently over the landscape the likes of which you’ll see nowhere else on earth. It’s the International Balloon Fiesta where over 600 aviators from 20 countries around the world bring their brightly colored and uniquely shaped envelopes to sample what is known as the Albuquerque Box – a unique set of wind currents that will carry a balloon in any direction depending on its elevation.

For spectators and photographers in particular, watching a mass ascension at dawn is breathtaking. Silent except for the murmur of the crowd and the occasional jet burst from the burners, the balloons slowly fill and lift into the morning sky gently “kissing” each other as they jostle for air space. This is one location where you can leave the tripod behind as the sheer volume of people and balloons covering the enormous grounds and the constant activity makes it a hazard. In years past shooting film was a challenge, but today’s digital cameras with low-noise sensors are perfect for the constantly changing light as the sun rises.

In addition to mass ascensions that usually occur on the weekends, the balloon glow is another spectacular event held in the evenings. The balloons are tethered to the ground and kept inflated with their burners, which cause the envelopes to glow like the famed luminarias of the region. The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is the largest gathering of hot air balloons in the world and is something everyone should experience at least once.

The transition from summer to fall can be a sudden explosion of color or a subtle change in hues depending on how quickly the temperature drops as the autumnal equinox approaches. Equally dramatic is the first snowfall signaling the coming of winter. It might be a light dusting on leaves and branches adding a new dimension to the autumn landscape, or a large storm that blankets the slopes at higher elevations in stark contrast to the bold colors below. This image from the San Juan Mountains in Colorado exemplifies the later and is a prime example of seasons competing for attention – and for the photographer’s eye.

The ghost town of Bodie in the shadow of the Sierra Nevada Mountains near Bridgeport, California is perhaps the best preserved icon of the gold rush days of the American West. Kept in a state of arrested decay by the California State Parks, this national historic landmark is a rich source of photographic inspiration and a colorful step back in time.

In its heyday of the 1880s Bodie’s population grew to nearly 10,000 and an estimated 100,000 million dollars of gold was culled from the surrounding hills. Gunfights occurred regularly in the streets after long days working the mines, the gambling halls and brothels thrived, and the bad men from Bodie quickly became legend across the country.

Today Bodie is quiet except for the occasional tumble weed blowing down Main Street and the creaking buildings that look as if they may collapse at any moment. But as you look through a window at the stocked shelves of the Boone Store or the open books in the school house it’s not hard to imagine the challenging life of the pioneers who flocked to this remote valley in pursuit of that precious metal.

I consider this more of a public service announcement than anything (insert wink here).

On the mainland the season is finally in full swing with brightly colored leaves, a crisp change in the air, and perhaps even a touch of snow at the higher elevations. But things in our 50th state haven’t changed much at all since last season, or the season before – in fact, they haven’t changed much in years. The temperature is still a constant 82 degrees, with light trade winds gently blowing the coconut palms. Dolphin frolic close to shore and the golden sun sets into the azure sea most every evening.

So while we’re all excited about the new look in the rest of the country, let’s not forget some things (and places) never change. And in the case of Hawaii, that’s just fine!