This video is worth watching — and sharing. It’s not at all cheerful, but it’s honest.

The image above is certainly more cheerful — it’s a view of Glacier Peak from the ridge above Blanca Lake.

It was hard to get the reflections just right, because I was standing just about at the edge of the lake (which was hard to find under the snow), and I ended up shooting from a fairly high angle in order to shoot over the reeds in the foreground.

The combination of black basalt, snow, and pines against a cloudless sky made the scene almost completely monochromatic to begin with, so I used Ilford Delta to get this black and white image.

The hike begins with a brisk walk through a second growth forest, until a short distance past the Wild Sky Wilderness boundary. From there, the switchbacks begin, grueling and relentless.

We split the group into two, with co-lead David Porter taking the faster group, and I the slower; the three young ladies in my group had never hiked before, and we were concerned that they would not make it to the lake.

They didn’t give up.

Three and a half miles in, we reached the snow-covered ridge above the tiny upper lake. Torn between watching our footing and gazing at majestic Glacier Peak, we scrambled and slid down the snowy hillside, pausing for lunch on a log above the small lake.

From there we descended 600 feet to the cirque, containing the lake. After all the toil, we finally got to see beautiful Blanca Lake.

We made it. In spite of the steep climb, inexperience, and inappropriate gear (Shirley was in tennis shoes, not ideal for snow), we made it.

A few of us descended to the lake shore to get some water, the rest of the group waiting up on the bluff above. David, having sent his group onward, returned to begin the trip back with us.

After too short a pause to enjoy the beauty of the cirque, with the collection of waterfalls coursing into the lake, we began the trip back up to the ridge. Climbing the snowbank was interesting, especially for the beginners who were not confident about their ability to slog through the snow without slipping. In the top picture, Marya and Darian are helping Shirley complete the ascent, while I paused to photograph it. I don’t normally carry my digital SLR when hiking these days, but this is one time I’m glad that I did.

On the way back, Shirley commented that this was the most worthwhile thing that she’d ever done.

The first thing to go was the Nikon D300. With it and a fairly basic 3-lens kit (28mm f/2.8, 50mm f/1.4, 105mm f/2.8 VR macro) and a teleconverter, it ended up weighing almost as much as my 4×5 with its 3-lens setup (80mm f/4.5, 135mm f/5.6, and 300mm f/8) and 4 cut-sheet film holders.

Next I started working on the shelter… I carried a 3-pound, 2-person tent, a Big Agnes Seedhouse SL2, which doesn’t much of a vestibule. Now I’m using the setup shown here; a Grace Duo from Mountain Laurel Designs, and a Serenity net tent from the same.

The combined weight of the entire setup is around 18 ounces, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. Having the sides up so high isn’t required, but when you’re in a warm desert clime, the breeze feels rather nice.

The tarp is shaped, with Catenary curves along its ridgeline and edges. It’s designed to pitch in an A-frame shape like the one shown here, and it only took around 10 minutes to get a decent pitch, which isn’t bad given that it’s my second attempt at pitching it. The odd fabric is in large part the secret to its light weight. It’s made of a fabric called Cuben, which is very popular with sailmakers because of its high strength and low weight, plus its complete lack of elasticity. As far as shelters go, it also has the advantage of being entirely water and windproof if you pitch it properly, and since this model has a taped ridgeline rather than stitched, it doesn’t even require seam-sealing.

The road curved sinuously through this aspen grove, so I asked Bailey to walk out toward the curve while I framed the shot. Even though it was mid-day, the light was pretty soft under all those trees, so I didn’t need to worry about dynamic range. The hardest part about this shot was communication, though. Bailey was pretty far away from me, and the road wasn’t far from the Rapid River, so we wouldn’t hear each other over its roar. We had to make do with gestures and a bit of luck

I have a black and white version of this image shot on 4×5, that I will post after I get the scanned image cleaned up to my satisfaction. I also learned that I am probably not loading my cut-sheet film holders correctly, leading to my chromes being underexposed by what looks like 3-4 stops, and also showing some severe (red) color casts, not at all typical for Astia. So I’ll fix that before I shoot again

This weekend I’ll be camping in Yakima, so I’ll be trying out my new camping gear; I’ve only pitched my catenary tarp once, and it was a pretty lousy pitch. Hopefully, I’ll get a better pitch out of this time… because the following weekend it’s going to be my shelter for a trip from Rainy Pass through Cutthroat Pass, and out to the Pasayten Wilderness. There should be plenty of photo opportunities on that trip!

For anyone interested in an easy, pretty desert hike, I’m going to be leading a photo safari in Cowiche Canyon on Sunday (info here).

The surf on the Pacific Ocean crashes onto the rocks at Cook's Chasm on the Oregon coast

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a protest organized by Sierra Club member Kit McGurn. We set up signs along 45th Street, on the overpass above I-5 just as rush hour began.

We were protesting against oil drilling. We got quite a few compliments, as well as a lot of honks and waves from passersby.

I walked along Cannon Beach while the sun dipped toward the horizon. Since I was shooting with the 4×5, I was a little bit too late to catch the sun partially hidden by a sea stack, so instead I decided to experiment with silhouetting them against the setting sun. I was pretty pleased with the result.

This is another image from my trip to Oregon, specifically from Bandon Beach, at the Oregon Islands National Wildlife Refuge.

It was a cloudy evening, so the sunset wasn’t particularly intense. The cloudy sky cast a blue color over the scene softly and evenly, making the exposures pretty easy, though a bit on the long side (seconds, at this point).

To get the leading line, I walked around and watched the patterns that the waves made after the broke. The receding water flowed around rocks and other hard objects in the sand, forming graceful curves like the ones in the foreground here. Since the light was so soft and even, I didn’t need to worry about burning out parts of the image, so I was able to pull in some detail in the sea stacks without needing to use things like HDR. This image didn’t require much editing — mainly dust spotting (I suppose I should clean my sensor).

A lot of people were out taking advantage of the beautiful weather and the deep snow at Mount Baker. The parking lots were full, and yet the lift lines were surprisingly short.

There were people on showshoes, skis, and snowboards everywhere, and even some tents behind a snow wall.

The weather was beautiful, with a clear blue sky and mild temperatures — at least, until the sun started setting. Also as the sun set, the color and light on the mountains was a sight to behold.

In this image, photographed from Kulshan Ridge near Artist Point, is Mount Shuksan, with the Shuksan Arm extending to the right. I used a Nikon 105mm f/2.5 manual focus lens on my D300 (shot wide open, at 1/800th of a second), and captured 14 images, panning handheld. I stitched the image in Photoshop CS4.