High Rock Canyon, Nevada is an isolated, inhospitable, yet beautiful hunk of geology in the remotes of northwest Nevada.  I first traveled the canyon via horseback in 1992, retracing the historic route of the Southern Route of the Oregon Trail.  The canyon is located southwest of Surprise Valley, California, via Vya, Nevada.  Maps of the area are available at the BLM Cedarville office and Floating Island Bookstore in downtown Cedarville.  The route from Surprise Valley to and into the canyon offers endless photo opportunities.  It is not a route for cars. A four-wheel vehicle is just about a necessity although’ I drove through once in my old two-wheel drive suburban, but it was an iron mechanical beast to be reckoned with. I’m sure that Beulah (the suburban’s appointed name) still has aches from that adventure!  Bring plenty of water and food and a good walking staff.  There are camping areas along the way.  Stevens Camp is at the canyon’s entrance and can be used on a first come- first serve basis.  The fascinating multi-colored geologic rock is mindful of areas in Utah.  The canyon’s walls rise as high as 800 feet.  Wide angle lenses are a necessity here, but with a telephoto, you might be able to capture a bighorn sheep, too.

The debris field of rocks, like tears, spills and flows off the steep slope of Lake Annie, a surreal lake sequestered away in the far northeast corner of California where I’m camped.  Cloud shadows sweep across the western slope of Lake Annie Mountain, like shades opening and closing, allowing light to come and go.  I see the shadow of the osprey first, before my eye transitions to the left and the osprey comes into view…  shadows of wings, like memories, as I’ve come back to this lake a year later.  Nostalgia sets in as I think of my former partner who I had spent much time with here.  I tell myself that I must let it go tho’ and move forward.  Forward like the cloud shadows, and sun, and the forever spinning earth.  Lake Annie and Mount Annie are power spots for me—a hidden gem in the solar system of my experience that I will always come back to…just as I will to my beloved encampment on the Chewaucan River…and to the garden in Malin.

Lake Annie Mountain rises steeply.  It is naked and alive.  No trees.  It is a small mountain that has the character of a grander mountain.  It holds court over the beginning of the Great Basin…the first throne at the base of Bidwell Mountain and the Warner Mountains.  Lake Annie is its’ subject, a gem tucked away at Lake Annie Mountain’s base in a barren plenty.  West of Annie are the Warners, jewels unto themselves: a land of wildflowers, butterflies, mountain lion, abundant birdlife,  solitary buckaroos, seasonal waterfalls, snowfields, aspen glens, forests and meadows, and a scarcity of humanity (thank goodness).

I’m a fly fisherman.  One of the reasons that I come to this lake is to exercise trout for my own selfish needs.  I come, too, for memories connected to landscape and for new memories to be made with the landscape. This is a wonderful landscape for solitary walks and explorations.   Because of our wet spring, this year the wildflowers resonate on the landscape, a vibrant and robust song of color from the high desert to the mountain tops.  The winged life is rich and varied, too.  Among my daily sightings are meadowlarks, orioles, willets, terns, gulls, osprey (they fish right in front of my camp), golden eagle, bald eagle, red-tailed hawks, ravens, blackbirds, great egret, ducks, night hawks, swallows and warblers.  Twice, I saw bull snakes swim across the lake.  I’ve seen rattlers come through the camp in previous years.  In the warm evenings during insect hatches, bats, nighthawks and swallows rule the sky with their darting silhouettes.

The Western grebes are the sentinels of the lake, always to be seen, no matter the direction one looks.  Yesterday, twice, I viewed two different mating pairs as they performed their mating ritualistic dance on the water—a poetic water ballet if one has the fortune to witness this rarity.  In the morning I watch the osprey as they glide above the lake’s surface stealthily, locate a fish and dive, sinking their talons in the trout flesh, and if successful, they fly back to their nests to feed their fledglings and themselves.  Many times they are unsuccessful as I’ve seen the osprey marks on trout which I’ve caught.  Camera technique on capturing osprey: open lens all the way, fast shutter speed, multi-frames a second, spot metering and auto tracking…and luck.

The summer solstice sunset was glorious with unique and varied cloud formations framing the lake, mountain and Surprise Valley.  A two-thirds waxing moon and a room with a view.

A parting thought from writer Dorothy Richards from her essay End of the Beginning: “Each person born into this world has a right to everything he needs.  His right, however, is bound up with that of every other creature and gives him no license to grab everything he can without allowing a share for others.”

Happy summer solstice everyone.

It’s just the duck and I on the dock now. No one on the lake.  No neighbors.  The storms and gray weather has chased everyone away, or has not encouraged them to come.   Fickle June.  I’ve found religion.  I’ve always found it here, and anywhere connected to wildness and the garden.  I’m a creature disposed to solitary things.  Meanderings through the forests, streams, deserts and less inhabited zones of life.  Hence, my love for the solitary cowboy and buckaroo in open country with a view.

I have loved deeply and I have lost deeply.  But I have never lost my love for any kind of a room with a view.

All week—except one glorious day—has been of gray, wind, rain…an unsettled and angry weather temperament.  Just now, in the late afternoon light, an opening came, prompting me to leave the cabin top the dock, where I sit as these words are penned.  A female mallard duck—I call her Judy’s duck; she was here last year and Judy Story provided some easy feed, so she has returned, as we return with memory to favorite places and kind people—landed in the lake beside me.  My camera was ready (important rule, you photographers; always be packin’ or you’re slackin’) and shots were taken.  The undulating water with light gathered and mixed on the surface—coming from the trees, the boat house, sky, chairs, clouds and an orange wheelbarrow—created a wonderful backdrop for the wild lady.  With a few wing flaps, she landed on the dock and waddled toward me, mere feet away, waiting my offering.  I gave none as I had none.  She flew back into the water and started foraging for food on the surface.

Knowing my light window was narrow, I quickly—well, not that quick; I did make a small margarita—went into the cabin and found some treats for Lady Mallard.  Then I left her and went back to gather the sun and to continue reading essays from one of my favorite books Sisters of the Earth.  My tranquility was abruptly interrupted out of nowhere though by two loud, loquacious young men who do not know the essence of solace.  They came to a nearby dock and started yappering, punctuating their sentences with as many F words as they could.  They started powerbait fishing but when you’re really fishing, there is no talking or very little.  They were so plugged in that they sounded like one of those really obnoxious reality television shows: no content, lots of  bull___!  Thank heaven for poor fishing.  They soon left.

After sunset, I retreated into the cabin and built a toasty fire.  I set up my camera tripod and snapped several 30 second time exposures, experimenting by using a variety of white balance settings with the ISO rated at 100.  The following morning, the sky was clear with wisps of high clouds, making for some dramatic hand held 17-35mm wide angle photography, both in color and black and white (using the red filter).  In the Picture Style settings in your camera, experiment with the landscape and standard modes.  Within these modes, don’t be afraid to play with the contrast, saturation and color tone ranges.  To get a truer natural color, I often back off  on both contrast and saturation…but if you really want rich shots, crank up the saturation.

Later in the day, I had two nice surprises: a visit from my son and one from my nephew Steve Neumeyer, who was paralyzed in a car wreck at age 25.  Both spent the night.  We had a nice meal of wild morels, steak and greens.  We played the card game called pitch until after midnight.  Steve woke up at 4am, wheeled himself to his rig and took off to the Rogue River for a day of salmon fishing.  He has caught salmon there many times.  He mentioned that one time someone had to hold him by the collar while he fought a wild fish as the strength of the fish had nearly pulled his non-motorized wheelchair into the water.  He graduated from Oregon Institute of Technology last year and is making his way in the world just fine.  He even gardens from the wheelchair.  I’m proud of him.

I do not live my life in quiet desperation.  I live my life in quiet hope.  Just now, with a phone call to my brother, hope was reaffirmed.  Diagnosed with cancer last year and multi surgeries later, hope was reaffirmed today as his Portland doctor called and said that the most recent ‘spot’ on the surgery area is not cancer.  He does not have to report back to the Doc until summer’s end.  ‘Made his summer and made mine, too, along with all of our family and loved ones.  I lost my wife to cancer 10 years ago.  Serious stuff.  But quiet hope, at this moment, rules the stage…and hopefully will for some time.

Today was a lovely day.  At the lake.  The cabin.  Great time with family and friends.  The Lake of the Woods run was yesterday with three family members participating.  I walked to the Lodge area where the race began, picking morel mushrooms along the way.  ‘Walked back, too.  Met some old friends.  Photographed the race’s beginning.  ‘Set myself up perfectly at the entrance sign to the Lake of the Woods Resort to get the runners coming by, framed by the sign.  Wide angle lens.  ‘Caught the end of the race with the same 17-35mm lens (at the finish line).  ‘Walked back to the cabin. ‘Photographed my brother-in-law Rod playing with his dog Nick, using multi frames a second and a fast shutter speed.  ‘Also, shot some abstracts of the lake’s undulating surface.  ‘Important to use a fast shutter speed and if you want a greater depth of field, close the lens down and up your ISO.  I opted for the lens wide open tho’ for more detail, but in the process, I gave up depth of field as I was using a 100-400 L lens. A lovely night of food and camaraderie and games.  After a stormy week, the lake settled.  I was the last to leave the dock, deep in the night, with a starry sky.  Everyone had gone to sleep.  ‘Took some time exposures (30 seconds) of the campfire, Mount McLoughlin and the Lake.

The long walk today was filled with wildflowers (trilliums and bluebells), mushrooms (morels and snow), birds (western tanagers, warblers, bald eagle, osprey, gray jay, stellar jay) and the poetry of quietness.  The sun finally broke out near dusk, bathing the land and skyscape with a rich textured fabric of light and 3-D dimensions.

Leaving Carefree, Arizona.  Arriving in Las Vegas.  Leaving Last Vegas tomorrow.  The journey back home…is helping my friends Tom and Jeanne Molatore as they leave their winter Arizona home for their summer Klamath Falls, Oregon home.  This is a rare type of traveling that I do, whereas normally I stop and photography along the way images too compelling to pass up.  I always tell aspiring photographers that when you see, feel and sense a photo, stop and take it because never again will that scene appear the same.  This journey is basic from point A to B, few stops between.  You see, Tom has an advanced form of muscular dystrophy.  He’s strapped into his wheelchair passenger side seat the entire way with a neck brace to stabilize his upper body.  His head movements are limited.  His frame of vision possibilities different than mine or Jeanne’s because he can only move his head a limited distance.  His vision is great though.  Constantly he brings things to my attention from his frame of vision.  His mobility is changed when he is freed from the van to roam in his motor powered wheelchair.  But Tom can only barely move his two hands…just enough to hold onto his wheelchair joy stick.  We have to lift his arm and hand though onto the side of the controls.  Same with his lapboard.  We have to place it on his lap.  Once we place his hands around his cell phone, his computer mouse, the television remote or his Kindle (an e-reader), he can use his fingers to connect to the outside world.  When properly placed on his lap board, Tom can hold a cup and drink a beverage with a long straw.  At the end of the day when we pull into a motel, Jeanie and I set up what Tom calls the ‘meat hook’, a system placed over the bed whereas we can lift him from the wheelchair and position him in bed.  Tom has a tracheotomy.  Several times throughout the day and night, Tom’s trach has to be suctioned to rid secretions from his trach as his muscles in that region (all regions of his body for that matter) are not strong enough for him to cough.  With the sling transfer (meat hook) system, motel ceilings can’t be over 9 feet high  (most modern motel ceilings are 10 feet) so research finding the right size room is critical when they travel.  Some cute stories, too (Tom has a lively mind, quick wit; he even has a M.S. in clinical psychology from Portland State).  Jeanne’s brother Jim, who normally helps them out on their switching homes journey, had a memorable encounter with them in Vegas.  At a Motel 6 in Vegas one night, there was a knock on their door and Tom was suspended in the air in his meat hook.  “I think the guy was a pimp,” says Tom.  “My brother-in-law opened the door and when the guy saw me in the meat hook, he exclaimed ‘I think I’ve got the wrong room.  You’re already busy for the night’.”

I cannot pay enough respect and homage to Tom and Jeanie.  What we take for granted in everyday life is monumental everyday and night of their lives.  They’re an inspiration to all.  Tom is an activist for the disabled.  He knows what it is all about.  He lives it day in and day out.  It is because of Tom’s activism that there are curb cuts in Klamath Falls.  In the Terravida community where they live in Arizona, his activism led to hand rails in the recreation area, automatic door openers, more handicapped parking and other accessible issues.  The strength of our character as humans is in what we do to make the world a better place for all, especially for those who have the least control over their individual world…and in doing so, our world becomes richer, and that has nothing to do with how much money that you have in your pocket.

An old (actually she’s not so old; two years younger than I but I’m not telling my age, just acting it) high school underclass mate of mine was the subject of my visit to the University of Arizona yesterday.  Joy Winzerling (the youngest daughter of Stan and Alice Johnson of my hometown of Malin, Oregon) is the department head of nutritional sciences at the U.  Her PHD is in nutritional sciences and her M.S. in biochemistry, both from the University of Arizona.  We had a lovely lunch and conversation in the Geronimo Courtyard of the University, catching up on old times from Malin High School and new times as our lives have developed since our graduations way back when.  She gave me a tour of this lovely campus and also of her research labs.  She is doing research on iron metabolism in the mosquito disease vectors with the ultimate results leading to the reduction of malaria, dengue and yellow fever throughout the world.  Among her current lab studies, she says is “the effects of airborne iron particles on iron metabolism of human lung cells.”  I felt like I was back in the chemistry lab at old Malin High School, except magnified thousands of times.  Great job Joy.  It was good to see you after all these years.  You and your staff are making a great contribution to humanity.

After the fascinating tour of Joy’s labs, I bid her adieu and walked over to the Center of Creative Photography on campus which is the vault to some of the world’s greatest photographer’s negatives and prints, including Eugene Smith and Ansel Adams.  The current Center’s main exhibit is New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-Altered Landscape (www.creativephotography.org).  Arrangements can be made through the Center to view original work of the masters.

Prior to departing the campus, I had the pleasure of meeting Anaceli Amador (and her brother Ernesto) just before her graduation ceremony with a B.A. in early childhood education.   The pride and promise of youth exuded from her being.  I wished her well on this happy day of achievement and her journeys to come throughout life, made even brighter by the securing of a college degree.  I photographed her brother photographing her as I have an ongoing book project on photographer’s photographing.

After one cold beer in the pleasant Tucson late afternoon, I walked to the vehicle and proceeded to downtown Tucson where I finished my day photographing the Saint Augustine Cathedral and other attractions.  My last night in Tucson.  Tomorrow’s destination: Carefree, Arizona.

Kitt Peak National Observatory, a 75-minute drive from Tucson, Arizona is like being on top of the world, looking into worlds beyond planet Earth.  The Observatory is the site of the world’s largest astrological optical telescopes (25) and two radio telescopes.  Located in the Tohono O’odham Nation, this is the place to come if you are interested in nebulae, galaxies, star clusters, planets and nebulae.  It is a place to go if you want a 360 degree view of southern Arizona’s Sonora Desert.  I drove up the five mile climb from the parched desert floor just before the 4pm closing time.  After a hurried visit of some of the facilities, slowly I drove off Kitt Peak, periodically stopping to admire the views and photograph.  The layering of the light as the day fades into evening brings this land and skyscape alive, revealing landforms and textures that are concealed by the blaring mid-day sun.  The land became alive before my eyes, exposing dimensions and delineations that were camouflaged on my drive up the curvy road.  The metaphor of looking into ourselves and discovering aspects of our character and beings could be used: our multi-dimensional characters, our depth, our layering, our poetry and pain are exposed as it is being exposed now in and within this landscape.   In every direction I look, I see desert and mountains, bajadas, alluvial plains: the craggy face of a long lived human, old and weathered and yet still with a glean in their eyes, coming from spring in the desert with trees, scrubs and cactus blooming.

I will come back to Kitt and participate in one of their nightly programs.  Reservations are required but still can be made up until 3pm the same day if space is available (512-318-8726).  During the Nightly Stargazing Program, one can peer into space through the Visitor Center telescopes.  An overnight program is available, too (www.noao.edu/outreach/aop.com).  Kitt Peak’s operation is handled by the National Optical Astronomy Observatory (NOAO) and funded by the National Science Foundation.  It has the world’s largest solar telescope.  Kitt is noted for having the clearest night skies in the continental United States.

The Arizona Sonora Desert is ablaze with color right now.  The daisy like saguaro cactus blooms—clustered at the tops of the stately ‘desert trees’—are abundant; the beginning of what will be a spectacular saguaro bloom year after some abundant winter rains.  The lacey scarlet red ocotillos fame the saguaros nicely, especially against definitive blue skies.  Adding to the desert artist palette are the yellow flowering prickly pear cactus (peach colored as the bloom fades) and the flowering palo verde and mesquite trees.  Cholla cactuses in the morning and evening light create desert halos, adding even more dimensions to the framings for photographers.  Early walks are especially nice in Saguaro National Park West before the desert snakes, scorpions and Gila monster lizards become active.  But then again, if you want to photograph them, go during the heat of the day.  I like being wise, wearing full clothing and a large brimmed hat, shielding as little human skin as possible to the blistering heat.  It was 95 degrees here yesterday.  Take plenty of water, sturdy walking boots, a walking staff, a map and food for desert treks.  I don’t use a GPS, but if you’re one that gets lost easily, it might come in handy.

Some recommended explorations in this fascinating zone are the Catalina Mountains (Sabine Canyon, Catalina Park, the road into Mount Lemmon and Pima Canyons, just to name a few which a friend and I explored) and both Saguaro National Parks West and East.  Soon I plan a trek to Mount Kitt Observatory and the Coyote Mountains Wilderness.

Several of these hikes to explore and photograph the blooms can be easily accessed from Tucson, all (except for Kitt and Coyote) less than 20 miles from downtown Tucson.  Take a close-up lens for flower work, a sharp wide-angle lens for landscape scenes and a telephoto for animal and bird life.

A must see for anyone that journeys to this great American desert is the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum (www.desertmuseum.org, the best $13 you’ll ever spend.  It is world class with great exhibits of the flora and fauna of this zone.  I’ve never been to a better living museum anywhere.  ‘Best to take two days for seeing all of the exhibits.  Photographers: be aware.  Make sure that you have plenty of cf cards, the bigger the card, the better.  Thursdays and Sundays, the museum offers a unique opportunity to have interpretive walks with the animal keepers, providing a more in depth perspective behind the scenes in caring for and learning about the animals, including the mountain lion, ocelot, bobcats and others.  The tour is fully accessible to wheelchairs.  Founded in 1952, the museum is open 7:30am to 5pm this time of the year.  June through August, the museum remains open until 10pm every Saturday.  I plan to go back soon to spend more time in the enclosed hummingbird aviary and the walk-in aviary.

Leaving Medford, Oregon, the big metal bird flew me and others to Portland.  I always, if possible, get a window seat so that I can photograph the sky and landscape from the air.  Some key photographic elements here: a wide angle to medium sharp telephoto lens, open your f-stop all the way whereas you get minimal window smudges and use a combination of the fastest shutter speed with the lowest ISO rating as possible.  Photographing through an airplane window is challenging, but with some practice, you’ll get some great images.  The following day, I flew to Seattle and switched planes for a flight to Tucson.  It was a remarkable day in the air as I was able to capture some publishable images of Mount Rainier, the Grand Canyon and other land/sky forms…many more abstract in nature.  I switched the camera settings back and forth from color to monochrome, using the red filter setting for the monochromes to get more contrast between clouds, sky and land.

The night in Portland was spent with my three wonderful nieces.  Actually, more like my daughters, as I helped raise them.  The three sisters, all living together, all with nice college degrees and all vibrant with life.  We celebrated Sissy’s (Alexander) 24^th birthday at a Moroccan Restaurant, The Marrakesh.  A sumptuous meal, consumed by sitting on colorful pads, eating with our hands.  The multi-course meal begins with a communal hand washing and ends with such, too.  Rose water is placed on the hands before desert.  We drank a bottle of Moroccan red wine, the only one on their list.  A belly dancer entertained us and Sis received her first belly dancing lesson.  I’m still waiting for my first!

The first light of dawn awakes me.  From the comfy bed, I see the eastern sun’s offering on the Sierra peaks south of Mammoth.  Coffee is made.  Another log is placed into the metal hearth.  A bath is drawn. The soak.  Preparation for the ski day ahead.  The gray and blue light of the previous three days has turned warm, bright, defining features on the landscape previously undefined by the early spring storm.  Opening the veranda door, I have to be extra careful not to let the fresh white overnight buildup fall onto the carpet.  I get the snow shovel and I make a path to the veranda’s railing, tossing the light, dry powder snow over the balcony onto the several feet of snow which carpets the earth below.  The boys sleeping in the lower floor bedrooms awaken soon after and prepare for an epic day of skiing Mammoth Mountain.  My friend and I will ski June Mountain, less than 30 miles to the north.  The local’s mountain, as the locals say.  My son and I had skied it last year.  A rare find in the ski world with ample terrain, stupendous views and no crowds.  Our blue bird ski day would be perfect.  The rare late season storm had brought offerings not to be declined.  We skied until our legs ached, and then we skied more.  The Sierra Nevada Mountain offerings were too satisfying to say ‘no mas’ to.  I was the last skier on the mountain’s highest lift.  I slipped into the trees and took my time, finding untouched powder pockets in the lodgepole and aspen tree glades.  I didn’t want it to end, but I knew that the last lift bus out would close, so I slipped out of the trees into a main run and then to the small old time two-seat lift that transported me to the north side where I skied to the chalet where my friends were waiting.  We had a beer on the western deck of the chalet.  Someone said, “This feels and looks like Switzerland.”  Just before departing the deck, a young boarder turns and chides her male buddies, “I’ll beat all of your asses off of the mountain.  I’m a 6-foot chick with an attitude.”  I believe her.  She straps on her board—her ridin’ pants are half way down, exposing the baby blue panties covering her butt—and with a friend bales off the expert only black diamond face that leads to the parking lot.  The bright spring sun was rapturous and complete.  At the table on the deck, Stan and I were the last skiers to leave.  A courteous June staff gentleman says, “Well guys, if I had my way, I’d sit down with you and stay until sunset…but it is closing time, so we have to have you finish your beer and either take the lift down or ski off.”   I down my locally brewed brown nut.  We ski off, all the way to the highway where our ride awaits.  The last pitch was only our tracks.

Photography notes:  I made a mistake today, failing to charge my Canon 5D Mark 11 battery, and a bigger mistake by not bringing a spare battery.  My photography day ended soon because of this.  I had plenty of 5D (the first 5D camera put out) batteries but they do not work in the 5D Mark 11.  Shame on Canon for this.  The first model 5D batteries should have been made compatible for the 5DMark11.  Since I’m on my rant, when will Canon make a pop up flash for the 5D?  When?  For us that carry minimal gear into the field, the pop up flash would come in handy on many occasions.  Since I’m on a ski sojourn, following are some ski/boarding/snow photography tips: 1—shoot on the manual setting (which I shoot on practically 100 percent of the time anyway since I want full control over my light settings) 2—if shooting ski action, place camera setting on multi frames a second and on auto servo whereas while tracking a subject, you can keep the subject in focus  3—open up your lens all the way and use the fastest shutter speed possible unless you want intentional blurred effects 4—play with the white balance for effect.  Use the cloudy day setting if overcast to warm the image.  Sometimes, even in sunshine, I’ll use this warming application.  I’ll also use either the incandescent or fluorescent indoor setting outdoors if I want the blues to predominate, just as I did this morning with ice cycles  4—turn off auto stabilizing since you’re using high shutter speeds and shooting multi frames a second.  Use the auto stabilizing in low light and the  need for greater depth of field situations.