Revisiting the Alpine Lakes Wilderness

My love for nature preceded my love for photography. One of the places that connected the dots for me was the Alpine Lakes Wilderness of Washington state.

The Alpine Lakes Wilderness protects more than 400,000 acres of craggy peaks, mountain lakes and forests in Washington’s Central Cascades — an area that stretches between two busy mountain passes. Its proximity to civilization was what initially brought me there.

An hour after leaving Seattle you can be in a wilderness where even bicycles aren’t allowed. It was convenient. It would have taken me at least three times longer to reach Mount Rainier National Park. But after my very first hike in the Alpine Lakes, its beauty became its primary draw.

The wind blows again

As I wrote last month, wind can seem like an impossible concept to capture in a still image. But just a few days after posting about my experience in the wind in Pinnacles National Park, I found yet another opportunity close to home.

My latest wind image came on a day when I had set out to photograph nesting kingfishers. The birds weren’t cooperative, but because I had just written about the wind, the image at the top of this post practically jumped out at me.

For me, the image illustrates more than the wind. It also shows how assigning yourself ongoing projects can help you to break through creative logjams.

In honor of Mountain Light Gallery

While I learned the art of nature photography through independent study, there’s no question that Galen Rowell was my professor. We had never talked and he had likely never seen any of my work. He died 15 years ago, just before I landed my first major publishing credits.

But about 10 years ago I got an opportunity to visit his Mountain Light Gallery in Bishop, Calif., which had become a museum for his life’s work. In addition to showing his classic prints, there was even a display case housing one of his lightweight Nikon 35mm cameras. I’m heartbroken on hearing the news that the gallery will close within the next few weeks. Everything — including the last prints bearing his signature — is priced to sell.

To be an artist, it’s imperative that you find your own voice, but you start that journey on a path others have laid.

Behind the scenes: 2 minutes and 24 hours

I was one of millions who braved traffic and potential gas shortages to drive to the middle of nowhere to see the total solar eclipse earlier this month. If there were any doubts as to whether the effort was worth it, they vanished the moment the sun disappeared behind the moon.

The two minutes and 10 seconds where the sun’s corona was visible in the midday sky were truly spectacular. But it was also only two minutes and 10 seconds. There were many more photographic opportunities during the 24 hours I spent chasing the eclipse. And I tried to take advantage of as many of them as I could.

Where do you find your vision?

I’ve spent more time thinking about my photography — why I do it and why my images look the way they do — over the past three months than I probably have over the preceding decade. I’m still doing interviews about my Rainbow on Haleakalā image, featured on a Forever postage stamp to commemorate the centennial of the U.S National Park Service. I’ve learned a lot about my approach to photography through the process of doing these interviews.

A few of the interviews focused on the thought process and effort behind the image (my favorite.) A few others concentrated on equipment and camera settings (my least favorite.) And a few fixated on the fact that I’m “self-taught,” I didn’t study — in fact, I detested — art in school. I think it’s really easy to take the latter the wrong way.

He who seeks beauty will find it

Since the announcement of the commemorative postage stamp featuring my Rainbow on Haleakala image, I’ve been asked a lot about my approach to photography. One quote that kept coming to mind each time I answered the question is the title of this blog post: “He who seeks beauty will find it.”