(click image for larger view & details)

Rime ice on pine tree, San Bernardino National Forest, California

Dawn light on Mount Whitney from the Alabama Hills, Sequoia National Park, California

Crescent moon and dawn light over the Big Sur coast, California

Fall color and fresh snow at Lake Sabrina, Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

Sunset at Soberanes Point, Garrapata State Park, Big Sur, California

Barrel cactus in bloom, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California

 Backcountry skier in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

Peninsular Bighorn Sheep, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California

The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

Rime ice on pine cones and branches, San Bernardino National Forest, California

As 2011 comes to a close I’d like to take this opportunity to say thanks to everyone who has supported my work during the past year. From the clients who have been with me for years, to the new friends from around the world who have connected through social networks, I appreciate our relationship and I hope you all have a very happy holiday season.

Thoreau’s famous words apply as much to successful landscape photography as life itself. Often when we first approach a classic scene we’re inclined to capture as much of it as possible in hopes that nothing is left out. Many times a wide angle view is the best perspective for those grand vistas, but it still must be carefully composed in order to guide the viewer’s eye through the frame. The problems arise when there is too much information and the image becomes cluttered and confusing. It’s time to go long and distill the elements down to their essence.

As with taking on too much in our lives and missing the forest for the trees, sometimes we need to simplify the scene to make it stronger. By carefully cropping out distracting elements and focusing on light and form we can create images with much more visual impact that connect with our audience on a higher level.

It always amazes me how fast the seasons seem to change this time of year. Feels like summer was just here and already fall is giving way to winter. By most accounts it was an unusual year for fall color with mother nature not quiet sure what she wanted to do in many parts of the country.  The Sierra Nevada provided another bounty for us in the west although not quite as dramatic as last year. I hope everyone got out to enjoy the colors in your local woods and maybe preserved a few visions of your own from this most colorful season.

As another Thanksgiving approaches I’m reminded of how much we have to be grateful for. In this often crazy world, nature provides a constant source of inspiration and renewal (photographically and in life), and is often as close as our own backyard. I’m looking forward to gathering with friends and family in the days ahead - then exploring the great, white wonderland of winter as soon as the snow starts to fall. Have a safe and fun holiday weekend everyone.

Climbers on the classic traverse of Matthes Crest, Yosemite National Park, California (click for larger view)

Exploring the high peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California is a magical experience. The Range of Light, as John Muir affectionately called it, is essentially in my backyard (just a few hours drive away) and I try to make the most of it throughout the year. Winter is a fantastic time to discover the vast solitude that awaits the backcountry skier, late spring and summer provide ample opportunity to backpack to secluded lakes and hidden valleys, and autumn, my favorite time of year, is perfect for sharing the lofty summits with good friends.

Many of the peaks in the range average over 13,000 feet and the views stretch far and wide. Photography in the crisp, clear alpine air needs no polarizing filter to faithfully reproduce the deep indigo hue that looks as if it must have been tweeked in Photoshop. My go-to lens in these high and wild places is the Nikkor 16mm, which has a wide field of view, provides maximum depth of field with extremely close focusing, and is very compact making it especially easy to climb with.

Climbing photography is challenging as vantage points are often limited and safety always comes first. But the heightened sense of awareness that is a requirement when scaling the peaks has a dual benefit - that of visual clarity. Great shots have a way of presenting themselves, and capturing those images is often just a matter of living in the moment.

Fall color and fresh snow, Sierra Nevada Mountains, California (click to view larger)

Making great images of fall color obviously starts with the seasonal changing of the leaves. Where and how this happens is dependent upon elevation and temperature and no two years are ever the same. The higher mountains of the west begin in mid-September, eastern hardwoods in October, and the lower red-rock country of the southwest in early November. Once you’ve settled on a destination and found that great grove of trees the next step is to consider the light.

It might seem like the vibrant reds or yellows before you would be faithfully reproduced by your sensor no matter what time of day, but understanding the quality of the light can go along way towards guaranteeing your success. Using backlight or sidelight when the sun is low on the horizon and illuminates the leaves from behind creates a wonderful warm glow, especially when set against a dark background. Softlight is another great light source (illustrated above) that occurs when the sky is overcast and acts like a giant studio softbox. Under these conditions, it doesn’t matter what time of day you’re shooting as the shadows are eliminated and the uniform light both reduces the contrast while intensifying the colors.

So when the scene presents itself, consider the light and don’t be too quick to trip the shutter. A slight change in position or a little patience could make the difference between a good image and a great one.

Peninsular Bighorn Sheep, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California

Wildlife photography is not my specialty, but I never pass up the opportunity to add a dynamic element to my landscapes when the local fauna is easily accessible. On a recent trip to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park I had heard that the endangered Peninsular Bighorn Sheep were frequenting the canyons, so I made a point of seeking out these magnificent animals. Still after three days in the park and many miles on the trail I had plenty of great images of blooming succulents and lush oasis, but not a single animal.

Then shortly before leaving the park I decided to make one last trip up Borrego Palm Canyon where, just a half mile up the trail, this handsome creature appeared on the ridge above me. Assuming I might only get a glimpse before he darted up the canyon wall, I took my obligatory insurance shots then waited to see his reaction. Much to my surprise he wasn’t in a hurry, so I left the trail (in a wide arc giving him plenty of room) to get a better angle. At first he was attentive to my movement but not agitated as I crossed the ridge and moved closer, then he seemed to accept my presence and for the next hour provided me with an amazing one-on-one photo session that I won’t soon forget.

Now I would have loved to have ended the day on that note, but unfortunately as the title of this post suggests, my luck had run its course. Not twenty minutes after heading down the trail, I somehow managed to slip on a rock (something I haven’t done in 35 years of traipsing through the wilderness), fell hard on my right side, and watched in horror as my Nikon body and 70-200mm lens lay in five pieces not far from my head. Fortunately I wasn’t injured and my equipment was insured. In fact, the great people at Rand Insurance (who underwrite my Nanpa policy) were so efficient that I was able to replace the equipment within ten days – just in time for an upcoming trip to Europe.

So if there is a moral to this story, it’s to keep taking those insurance shots when opportunity presents itself (and with a little luck you’ll come away with much more). And above all, make sure your equipment policy is up to date!

Fall aspens at South Lake, Inyo National Forest, Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

It’s September 1st – the days are getting shorter, and there is a crispness in the air that definitely signals the close of summer. This is my favorite time of year when the crowds give way to the colors of fall, and the natural world seems to come alive once again with a riot of color.

It’s always hard to predict just when the peak of autumn will occur, and temperature changes play a large part in this. Higher elevations in the western mountains tend to peak late September to early October, the eastern hardwoods around mid-October, while desert canyons such as Zion typically show their full colors in early November.

Indications are that 2011 will be another big winter, which means the season may be cut short as early snows cause the leaves to turn brown or drop prematurely. But if your timing is right, you can have the best of both worlds with one season visually ushering in another.

Skier under Banner and Ritter Peaks, Ansel Adams Wilderness, Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

Backcountry skiing in the Sierra Nevada is a perfect winter counterpart to the Desert Solitaire of Edward Abbey’s Utah. This popular and often crowded summer destination takes on another form during the shortest days of the year where deep in the wilderness that rare form of quiet is still plentiful. 

Whether you want to ski your own private bowls or just enjoy the tranquility and unique photographic opportunities, it’s all there for the taking. Proper equipment and skills are obvious requirements and outdoor retailers like REI not only sell all the appropriate gear, but also offer classes in technique and safety.

Evening light on tufa towers at the south shore, Mono Lake, California

The Mono Lake Tufa State Natural Reserve, which was established in 1982, is one of 70 parks, historic buildings and monuments that California State Park officials plan to close by the end of June 2012 due to budget restraints. The famous south shore tufa will still be accessible (as will the rest of the lake), but the visitor center and information kiosks will likely close and with them a valuable educational resource that has helped keep Mono Lake alive.

Since the early part of the 20th century, the water rights along the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains have been hotly contested with the construction of the Los Angeles aqueduct. The classic story of how Mulholland bought up the ranch lands of the Owen’s Valley to build his dream and bring water to the desert of Southern California is well-documented in the movie Chinatown, and the subsequent LA Department of Water and Power has been in court many times over the years as a result.

Mono Lake has no outlet and its proximity near the start of the LA aqueduct makes it critically dependent on the naturally flowing streams that feed into it from the nearby Sierra. Its highly saline waters are a perfect breeding ground for brine shrimp, which in turn are the staple diet for over 2,000,000 migratory birds that visit the lake each year (including the second largest nesting population of California gulls in the US).

Fortunately we’ve had a couple of very wet winters and Mono Lake is receiving the water it needs for now. But with the growing demand of a rapidly expanding and thirsty west, its future remains uncertain.