Creative High Ground

Brilliant wildflowers, azure skies, dancing clouds and sweeping landscapes can all be found in Paradise.

As inscribed on the steps near the Paradise Visitor Center in Mount Rainier National Park, John Muir in his nineteenth century travels said that the natural gardens that cover Paradise are, “the most luxuriant and extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings.” Today, nature lovers and tourists flock in droves to see these enchanting alpine gardens.

And they leave their mark.

It is here that I get on my soapbox.

The above photograph of my husband Darin was taken at Paradise in August of 2014. I love this photo for many reasons. In a talk I gave to Shorecrest High School’s photography classes I used it to demonstrate compositional elements such as the rule of thirds and the placement of a human subject. Earlier this year Washington Trails Association asked to use this image on a batch of their thank you cards, I assume in part because it has a handsome hiker, a famous mountain, and a well maintained trail as part of its composition. I tell Darin that he is so attractive that one of our favorite outdoor organizations put him on their cards.

But this image saddens me as well. What isn’t apparent until the image is inspected more closely is the evidence of human presence. I’m not referring to my husband, or the trail, but instead the trampling of the garden. As I scanned the ground searching for wildflowers on our late summer evening hike to Panorama Point, I saw smashed plants from feet stepping off trail for whatever reason. I saw picked wildflowers in the hands of those eager to take some of the beauty physically with them. It made me think there is a reason that the ground two meters from the trail has more green than the dirt that lines the trailside. I wish I could see what it looked like when Muir was there.

We’ve seen many more violations of Leave No Trace ethics. Last March at Heather Lake in places the trail was inches deep in mud. When we stepped to the side of the busy trail to put my camera back into my pack, a few hikers shouted, “excuse me” as they walked by us - off trail - to avoid the mud. Darin and I looked at each other and he facetiously said, “I guess they are just widening the trail.” We visited Heather Lake again last Friday and found fireweed picked and thrown onto the trail. On one hike we carried out an entire shredded emergency blanket that we found caught in the bushes. On others, plastic water bottles and Clif Bar wrappers.

Fireweed found picked and thrown aside at Heather Lake

At the Eagle Creek Trailhead in Oregon last April my friend and I saw a couple carrying a large bouquet of wildflowers to their car, essentially removing next year's seeds from the trailside. It is a privilege to hike, especially on beautifully maintained trails. I think this privilege demands respect for the other people who will come afterward.

This is a plea to all those who venture into fragile environments. Please, please respect nature for its power and fragility. Coming down off Ingalls Peak last year we spotted a trio of mountain goats near Lake Ingalls that were being encircled by vultures taking the form of hikers and photographers; phones and cameras out and within arms length of the wild animals. Goats can, have, and will kill people. The hiking trail is not a zoo, nor should it become one.

This is not to say that I have never violated Leave No Trace ethics.  I dropped my lens cap on Ruth Mountain and it proceeded to slide down the glacier. I'm sure I've forgotten to secure trash at some point and a wrapper may have blown away. I imagine if a critic followed me around they could find things I do regularly that aren't following Leave No Trace. I see the plank in my own eye, but I will continue to take the creative high ground.

At Ingalls I was fortunate enough to find a goat farther down along the trail, and get this shot from a distance with a zoom lens.

The majesty of nature is what I aim to capture because I value it and want to share that passion. I understand that some of my social media followers follow me for ideas and inspiration for their own photographs. Take the creative high ground. Ultimately, I believe the challenge of getting an ethical shot is so much more rewarding than getting the desperate, damaging shot - rewarding to you, to your clients, to humanity and to nature.

A friend who works for the US Forest Service says that this is why they expend resources to maintain wilderness trails. If there isn't an established trail, people will make many.

Three Traits Photography Has Developed In Me

I was first drawn to landscape photography as a child. My parents are both artists by hobby, and Dad would take me to visit art fairs every summer. Our perennial favorite was the Bellevue Arts Fair, where I always wanted to stop and look at the many gorgeous landscape photography booths.

I never bought anything. A hundred dollar print is out of your price range when your allowance is 50 cents a week and you’re saving up for American Girl doll clothes. But staring at these vibrant images made an impact on me. Spending time looking at those beautiful prints must have contributed to the sort of eye and style I’ve developed.

As I’ve transitioned from being a nine year old with a disposable film camera, to a tween with a reloadable film camera, to a high schooler with a (3.1 megapixel) digital point and shoot camera, to a college graduate with a compact dSLR to now a full frame dSLR, I have learned so incredibly much. The following are three specific traits I think I can accurately credit to my obsession with photography.

Patience
The more I shoot the more I've come to find that landscape photography is much more complicated than just being in the right place and then pointing and shooting. The more I do it the more I appreciate the effort. It's easy to get a few lucky shots when you're in the right place at the right time, and I definitely do. Everyone will. As my husband likes to quote, “A camera in the hand is worth two in the pack.” This is definitely true in many cases.

Consistently getting great shots time and time again, however, is another story. I don't necessarily get a winner every trip. So much goes into scouting and waiting for the right light, the right clouds, and the right season.

By nature I’m not an incredibly patient person. My husband politely describes me as “efficient” and by this he means I don’t put much effort into something unless I think it’s necessary. So basically I get things done very quickly and only to quality level I deem necessary. You should see the difference between how we pack our backpacks. He’s so methodical and diligent. I sort of throw stuff in there.

With photography, especially fine art photography, mere efficiency really can't make the cut. Especially with my printed art, I am constantly looking for ways to make it better, whether by better materials, a different medium, a different printer, a more creative presentation, the list goes on. The art forces me to slow down and get lost in it.

Respect

Respect for People

I've watched photographers nearly get into fights. I'm not kidding. At Rialto Beach, Darin and I were sitting on some rocks, waiting for good sunset light, and across the rocks on the beach a photographer had set up to shoot the silhouette of one of the seastacks. Along came another photographer who planted himself directly between the first photographer and his subject. The waves drowned out the conversation, but judging by their body language it was an altercation. We were wondering when they would start throwing punches. Thankfully the second guy moved on.

Rialto Beach

I'm slightly ashamed to admit (if you know me personally I rarely raise my voice) that at Mesa Arch in Utah I raised my voice at a tourist who was shoving their iPad in front of my lens and in the process knocked my tripod over. My camera probably would have broken had I not caught it as I fell.

Mesa Arch, THE classic photography spot in Canyonlands National Park

There definitely are vibes certain photographers send out, sometimes quite overtly, that they are ticked off that so many other photographers are around. I understand this. We have this goal of getting “the best” shot of something and it annoys us when we are copied or won't have the only shot of something.

Landscape photography is a ridiculously competitive field for those of us that market our work, so we’re always looking for something beautiful and unique. Sometimes I find an incredible spot, post a picture, and then get several messages from people with a profile picture of themselves behind a camera asking me where exactly it was. I figure they’d want the GPS coordinates if I had them. I will give the trail or area out of respect and trying to not appear stingy, but exploring is part of the challenge and part of the art. I get annoyed when people set up right next to me to copy my shot on a large beach where I’m sure there are other angles. I’m not perfect.

But I try to keep in mind when I’m getting frustrated with people the words of astrophotographer Brad Goldpaint when we ran into him in Arches National Park, “Life is too short for that.” Ultimately treating them as people and not just as an annoyance is the healthy, mature, professional, respectful way to go.

Respect For Nature

Nature is powerful and should be respected as such. Nature is fragile and should be respected as such. Nature is my favorite subject, whether a mountain, river, wildflower or waterfall. Growing up, most of the family vacations we took were to national parks, with my parents being very intentional about developing in my brother and I an appreciation for nature. We did Disneyland once to say we did it. My fondest memories however are of seeing a moose in the Tetons, watching a nursing bison calf in Yellowstone, going for a horseback ride in Glacier National Park, and waking up before the rest of my family just outside Zion National Park to step outside and see massive sunlit red cliffs. We had arrived at our motel in the dark and had no idea how majestic a cathedral we had just slept in.

A friend who works for the forest service likes to say that this is why they maintain wilderness trails. If there isn't a defined trail, people will make many.

Too often when we are out hiking we find evidence that nature has been disrespected. Often, photographers are to blame. Earlier this year a high profile outdoor equipment company published an image by a professional photographer featuring a campsite pitched directly on alpine wildflowers. They glorified it because it looked awesome. Yes, it looked awesome. It looked awesome because up to that point no one had camped there. Up until that point visitors had respected the fragility of those plants and hadn’t trashed them. It broke my heart knowing thousands of people were seeing this and I worried some would be inspired to repeat that mistake just to get a shot like that.

Mountain goat at Lake Ingalls, shot from a distance.

Nature is powerful. For the same reason that I refuse to take portraits on railroad tracks, there are some nature shots I will not try to get. I love thunderstorms, but I do go to unsafe places to shoot them. Many shots I see look to be taken from viewpoints on hills, probably on a metal tripod. I just won’t do that.

I will not approach wildlife. Coming down off Ingalls Peak last year my husband and I spotted a mountain goat herd near popular Lake Ingalls being encircled by several vulture hikers and photographers. They had their phones and cameras out at and were within arms reach of these poor goats. Goats can, have, and will kill people. The hiking trail is not a zoo. I did get a goat shot further down the trail. The goat was at a distance and I used a zoom lens.

Tenacity

I have (and do) have dry, discouraging months where I don't sell a single print. But then the next month I’ll sell several. I don’t live solely off photography (not even close) but I love it enough that during those dry months I still enjoy shooting. I think this comes from the inherited artist side of me. There’s so much satisfaction in creating and sharing that it gets me through the frustrations of not being able to afford better equipment or software.

North Twentymile Peak

It's not every Saturday that we feel like going for an obscure thirteen mile 4400' gain hike, but yesterday we went. Darin's dad had seen this peak in his hiking book a few months back and asked if we'd do it with him sometime. So, this was the weekend.

It was hot. If not for the steady light breeze we might have turned around. And there was not another human soul for miles.

North Twentymile Peak is in a few of our hiking books, but appears to be a very unused trail. We saw one set of footprints in places, and one set of horse tracks, and evidence that someone had come through recently with clippers to get rid of trees growing on the trail, but that was about all the evidence of recent human presence we could find.

The 1920s cupola style lookout was my favorite part of the hike. It had so much character, and the door was unlocked so we went inside. Darin and his dad found the shiny new weather station and 1940s lookout pretty cool too.

From the summit

Charred

Quite the view

Inside the Cupola Style Lookout

1940s Lookout

Lupine

Fallen Pine

Marmot Pass and Buckhorn Mountain

I'm not really sure how neither my husband nor I had ever done this hike before. It's so beautiful, even in the clouds.

The trail along the Big Quilcene winds through lush, beautiful forest with trilliums at the trailside, and then the steady climb begins and continues all the way up to Camp Mystery where we set up camp before continuing on to Marmot Pass and Buckhorn Mountain. The snow near the trail is completely gone. We brought our ice axes for any lingering snowfields on the way to Buckhorn Mountain but we had no need for them. Just a quick use of hands up to the summit closest to Marmot Pass, which our mountaineering guide lists as the tallest of the arêtes.

The trail is in amazing shape, and the steady climb isn't steep, which was a welcome to our knees on the way down.

And, upon our return, our adventure cat Hobbes demanded to know why we didn't bring him. He's pictured at the bottom hiding in our rain fly.

Our summit

Marmot Pass

Along the trail

Wild rhododendron in the fog

Hobbes, our adventure cat

Eagle Creek

I had the pleasure of spending a night hiking with my friend Kiri on the Eagle Creek trail in Oregon last week. I understand it is one of the most hiked trails in Oregon, and we definitely understood why. The trail is lined with wildflowers, and we joked that we were sick of seeing waterfalls by the time we made it back to the car. I have never seen so many spectacular falls on one trail before, and we only hiked it to Tunnel Falls at six miles in.

Punchbowl Falls is one of the most photographed spots in Oregon and the feature of many of its calendars. I had made the first two miles of this hike with my family when I was in elementary school because my dad wanted to see the source of the picture he had hanging in his college dorm room. It was fun to return to see it again, and with a better camera! I have disposable film camera pictures of this falls, and I might find, scan and share them too for comparison. My skill has improved quite a bit in 18 years, at least I hope.