Bighorn Sheep!

That was the call from the backseat as we meandered slowly through Zion National Park.  I insist that when we’re in a national park, the kids need to put the books and iPads away and help me look for wildlife.  We made a contest out of it in Yellowstone and it had the desired effect.  Most of the time Parker is a less-than-reliable spotter but something in his voice this time caused me to immediately pull over and scan the surrounding hills.  The fact that he’d managed to spot a female, so high up the mountain and lacking the signature curled horns was nothing short of miraculous.  But he did, and he was right about it being a bighorn.  I didn’t even realize he knew what they were.

We all alighted from the old Indian and I grabbed my telephoto lens from the trunk, figuring I might be able to pull in a distant shot of one of these elusive animals from high on a rocky outcrop.  As we waited, a second appeared, then a third, and then a whole herd began to descend the mountain towards the road.  Within a few minutes, we had wandered with them almost a quarter mile down the road and as they eyed us cautiously, I had a problem that I rarely have photographing wildlife—they were almost too close for my 300mm lens.  I snapped away as they posed patiently for pictures from nearly every angle, finally crossing the road to the shock of passing motorists.  Then, almost as soon as they had appeared, they vanished into the canyon below and the relative safety of the underbrush.  Parker won the overall award on this trip for wildlife spotting and I got the shot.  Bighorn sheep are his new favorite animal and it’s easy to see why.  They’re powerful, majestic and confident.  They’re hard not to admire.

Like our last day on Man vs Machine III in Mesa Verde, our last day in Zion was rainy, but it didn’t matter.  When the grand scenic photos don’t present themselves, it’s best to look closer.  Sometimes it can be so alluring to capture the expansiveness of these parks that one forgets what is up close—streams, small waterfalls, formations of rock and birds.  Near the end of the day, as the rain retreated, I spotted a Blue Heron in the Virgin River and that capped off the last hours of our last national park whistle stop on Man vs Machine IV.  From here we have a short drive to Las Vegas for some needed R&R and then on Sunday we drive the last leg through the scorching desert back to Los Angeles… and home. 

A ram poses confidently for photos in Zion National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 300mm lens, ISO 250, f4.5, 1/2000 sec.

Tree roots reach for nourishment around waterfall above Middle Emerald Pool in Zion National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 24mm, ISO 100, f13, 1.3 seconds.

The Grotto, Zion National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 24mm, ISO 400, f8, 1/30 sec, -2/3 stop exposure adjustment.

Rain shower recedes over Watchman Peak in Zion National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 48mm, ISO 200, f6.3, 1/400 sec, +1/3 stop exposure adjustment.

A blue heron hunts for fish in the Virgin River, Zion National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 120mm, ISO 200, f8, 1/500 sec, -1/3 stop exposure adjustment.  This shot would have been better at f4, but in the heat of the moment I was glad just to bag it.

The Background Becomes the Subject

We got cell service along the side of the road in Yellowstone just long enough to get the message that Quimby’s closing got pushed out a week so she was taking option A—a flight from where we’d stranded her in Whitefish to Jackson Hole to spend the weekend with us.  The kids let out a yell and we headed out the west entrance to Yellowstone for a long drive through Idaho.  A large wildfire was burning between Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park, so the road that connects Yellowstone and Jackson Hole, 50 miles to the south, was closed.  The only way was a circuitous route to the west.  It added 200 miles to our journey and took away the scenic drive I’d been anticipating, but our spirits were high nonetheless.

The weekend with Quimby in Jackson was leisurely, the way we had hoped it would be in Montana.  We had some nice lunches and dinners and worked in some horseback riding and a long hike around String Lake in Grand Teton.  As I finalized plans for our next leg on Sunday night, I realized that the campground/waterpark in Salt Lake that was scheduled for Monday and Tuesday was closed for the season, so I scrambled to make alternate arrangements.  Remembering how we had enjoyed Bryce Canyon last summer, I hastily made camping reservations and we set out on Monday for a longer-than-expected drive—almost 600 miles—south to Bryce Canyon.

We had already seen it, but I figured we’d do some swimming, sleep in a teepee and maybe, just maybe, I’d come away with a photo that rivaled the gorgeous shot I took last summer of the old Indian in front of the teepee with the Milky Way streaming out above it.  It was a signature shot if ever there was one and I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that with the car parked in almost the exact same spot, I tried it again.  It’s an important lesson in life that you can't focus on the past.  If you have success, celebrate it, but then go try something new.  I don't know why I thought I could improve upon that shot but after the first few exposures I recognized the futility.  I won’t show you the outtakes; maybe I should, because it illustrates the point, but once I saw them I knew that I needed a new shot, one that took the beautiful sky that is the background of that shot and made it the subject.  I decided right there to try it the following night, even though it required dragging my kids out to the edge of a cliff well after dark and setting them up on their iPads.  It was two hours past their bedtime when we hiked back through the trees with a flashlight but I came away with a new killer shot.  The background became the subject.

The Beck Gang is on the loose!  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 30mm, ISO 400, f9, 1/800 sec.

Pronghorns look cautiously at yours truly in Grand Teton National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 300mm lens, ISO 640, f10, 1/800 sec.

View from String Lake in Grand Teton National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 24mm, ISO 200, f8, 1/640 sec.

Parker and Samantha play in String Lake, Grand Teton National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 120mm, ISO 200, f4, 1/600 sec.

Dad sets up his gear on the edge of a cliff in Bryce Canyon National Park waiting for the sun to go down.  iPhone 6s.

The background becomes the subject.  The Milky Way reaches above the southern end of Bryce Canyon National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 17-35mm lens @ 17mm, ISO 1600, f2.8, 15 seconds.

Yellowstone

After shivering in our sleeping bags all night long, we woke up early on Thursday morning in Yellowstone.  The temperature had dipped probably a half dozen degrees below freezing the night before and a hard frost covered the car, the picnic table and the top of our tent.  I had packed most everything the night before, so all we had to do was quickly roll our bags and mats and break down our tent.  I wanted to get out while the morning light was still good.  The frost was just an added bonus.  

Yellowstone can make an average photographer feel like a hero.  It's epic view after epic view.  If the cars are pulled over taking pictures of elk on one side of the road, you can literally turn around and shoot the opposite direction and come away with another killer shot.  It's can't-miss photography.  So here you go...  Yellowstone in all its beauty.

Milky Way and the Andromeda Galaxy setting above our campsite at Canyon Village in Yellowstone National Park.  There are few darker spots in the lower 48 than Yellowstone.  Just amazing.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 17-35mm lens @ 17mm, ISO 2000, f2.8, 25sec.

Frost covers the scrub as fog fills the Yellowstone River Valley yielding a monochromatic landscape.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 120mm, ISO 200, f8, 1/1600 sec.

Yellowstone Lake.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 120mm, ISO 200, f13, 1/1600 sec, -1 stop exposure adjustment.

Steam rises over the Yellowstone River south of Canyon Lodge.  The river is thermally heated, so on cold mornings, it creates a moody layer of fog.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 62mm, ISO 250, f13, 1/1000 sec.

Canadian Geese swim across the Yellowstone River shortly after dawn.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 70mm, ISO 200, f10, 1/400 sec.

The old Pontiac breathes in the early morning cold in Yellowstone National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 120mm, ISO 200, f8, 1/125 sec.

Water spills down a hillside from a thermal feature on Firehole Lake Drive, Yellowstone National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 46mm, ISO 250, f9, 1/800 sec.

Glacier

We arrived in Whitefish, MT on Saturday night after a nearly 600 mile haul from Mt. Hood.  Quimby landed at 9:15pm and we arrived about 15 minutes late.  This part of the trip had been booked knowing that Quimby had a deal that was set to close at the end of August and we knew that she would most likely need to work during the days but the plan was that I would entertain the kids during the day and we would meet up for dinner and spend our evenings together.

When we picked her up at the airport, Quimby needed to do some work so we checked into the hotel, grabbed some sandwiches, quickly scarfed them down and put the kids to bed.  I checked out the Bulldog Saloon down the street and then slipped back into the room around midnight.  Quimby was still working.

Quimby had an early call, so we vacated the room early and left her to her work.  We had breakfast and then I took them to the local ski resort where in the summer they have an alpine slide.  We spent the early part of the afternoon whizzing down the mountain on skateboards that resembled sleds and then caught a 4pm showing of Kubo and the Two Strings.  Quimby was still working but she managed to free herself for dinner before the three of us crashed out.  Quimby went back to work.

On Monday morning, I took them to West Glacier for an all-day whitewater rafting trip followed by a short jaunt into Glacier National Park to see Lake McDonald.  We arrived back in Whitefish about 7:30pm and found a local pizza place.  Quimby wasn’t sure she could join us, so while we waited for the pizza I decided to see if I could make lemonade out of lemons.  Quimby had planned to drive with us from Montana, through Yellowstone and the Tetons, and then spend the following weekend with us in Jackson Hole, but since she had been glued to her computer, I didn’t want to pull her away to remote Montana and Wyoming where she’d be without cell service for two days.  Plus, it’s no fun to hang out with lawyers while they’re slaving away (there’s an obvious joke to be made here but I’ll leave that to you).

I found her a flight from Whitefish to Jackson, and we decided to shove off a day early without her, leaving instructions that if work permitted she could meet us in Jackson or if it continued full bore (no pun intended) she could simply fly back to LA.  So on Tuesday, a day ahead of schedule, we pulled out and pointed the old Indian east toward the “Going to the Sun Road”, an engineering marvel that cuts directly through the heart of Glacier National Park, up the sheerest of cliffs, over the continental divide and down into eastern Montana on the Colorado Plateau.  Many years ago I had the opportunity to do this drive and chickened out.  It turned out not to be as treacherous as I’d feared but it also wasn’t as spectacular as I’d hoped.  Much of the drive is above the treeline, so while the views are top-of-the-world, they also lack the interest in terms of foliage and wildlife that are afforded at lower elevations.  On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a seven. 

After we crossed the divide, we headed another 250 miles south to Livingston, MT to position us for our part of the lemonade, a bonus night of camping in one of my favorite places in the world.  The first, the biggest, and arguably the best national park in the entire world—Yellowstone.

Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 38mm, ISO 100, f8, 1/500 sec.

Parker skips stones on Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 120mm, ISO 100, f5.6, 1/500 sec.

Stones along the shore of Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 86m, ISO 100, f8, 1/160 sec.

Westward view near the top of Logan Pass on Going to the Sun Road, Glacier National Park.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 24mm, ISO 500, f8, 1/640 sec, -1/3 stop exposure adjustment.

View to the west from just outside Lake Mary entrance to Glacier National Park through fire-scarred forest.  Much of Glacier is a forbidding place.  You wouldn't want to be here in the winter.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 38mm, ISO 500, f13, 1/640 sec, -2/3 stop exposure adjustment.

You Can't Leave a Bunny Behind

We awoke just as the sun began to illuminate our motel room in Longview, WA.  I had forgotten to pull the shades the night before, so the first rays of dawn awakened Parker, and once he begins to stir, it’s game on.  I handed him the remote and hoped he would find something appropriate to watch, but he couldn’t figure out how to turn the TV on.  I unwrapped the pillow from my head and helped him find the local PBS station.  It was too late—I was wide awake.

We packed our belongings and surveyed the complimentary breakfast—egg pucks, undercooked breakfast sausage and four varieties of Post cereals.  It wasn’t great, but it did the job and allowed us to get on our way without a second stop for breakfast.  We headed to the local Safeway to pack our cooler with hot dogs, Gatorade and eggs and then we pulled into the liquor store to replenish Dad’s supply of scotch, which had been dangerously depleted the day before.  They weren’t quite open yet, and as we burned down the clock, Samantha announced that she had left Bunny and Doggy (her lifelong stuffed animal companions) on the bed at the motel.  For those of you who either don’t have kids, or don’t have kids who have best friends of the fabric and stuffing nature, let me assure you that this is tantamount to leaving your wounded army buddy in a foxhole as it’s being overrun.  No way, no how.  Not happening.

Bunny and Doggy have been with us now for ten years, across multiple continents.  Their passports, if they had needed them, would be in extra pages by now.  They are part of the family, and the prospect of losing them now, in this backwater suburb of Portland, Oregon was almost unthinkable.  I confess I had winced in the opening moments of Man vs Machine IV when I saw Samantha carrying them proudly to the car because I didn’t want the associated responsibility, but they had been with us on every trip thus far.  I reluctantly decided that one more trip wouldn’t hurt.

I dropped the shifter to reverse, and sped back to the hotel, screeching to a halt in the porte cochère opposite the office.  We asked for the key back and I sent Samantha back to the room like a commando.  She ducked in while I reconnoitered in the lobby, keeping one eye on Parker and the other on the open door.  It was taking too long…  Just as I was about to go in, she emerged, ashen and shaking.  The beds had been stripped and Bunny and Doggy were nowhere to be seen.  We spread out down the hallways looking for a maid, and when I found one and explained the escalating situation, she took one look at Samantha and led us straight to the laundry room.  It was a rare glimpse into the seedy underbelly of the hospitality industry, with industrial washing machines churning away and heaping piles of laundry waiting to be processed.  Staring into one of the giant machines churing away in soapy circles, Samantha began to cry.  The maid earnestly insisted that she hadn’t seen them and that if we left our names and numbers she would do whatever it took to return them to us if they were found.  As Samantha sobbed, we returned to the car to have one last-ditch look through the luggage.   As we dismantled the trunk, possessions strewn about the entrance to the hotel, at last we found them at the bottom of a bag of clothes.  They weren’t in the foxhole; they made it onto the chopper.  We threw everything into the trunk and Samantha clambered into the back of the car, clutching Bunny and Doggy close to her chest.  We fired up, circled the parking lot in a sweeping arc and slowly lifted off.  Cue Barber's Adagio for Strings.

After the rescue mission, we turned north to visit Mt. Saint Helens, about 50 miles northeast.  If you haven’t been there, I recommend it.  There are multiple visitor centers on the way up the mountain and each one is a moving tribute to the terror that ensued in the wake of the eruption in May 1980.  Most moving was a video clip of Dave Crockett, a reporter for KOMO television in Portland who was trapped under the falling debris moments after the eruption.  It’s one of the most unbelievable pieces of footage I may have ever seen.  I won't spoil it, check it out on the video link below.

After St. Helens, we headed back south, over the Columbia, and east to Mount Hood.  I had reserved a spot at Camp Creek, just a few miles from the base of the mountain.  I didn’t have great expectations for this particular spot but when we pulled in, everything changed.  It was built as a work camp for the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1936 and nearly every site had a hand built stone chimney nestled under old growth pines, covered in moss.  We spent the evening playing in the river a few feet from our tent and roasting hot dogs and s’mores.  It was everything the camping is supposed to be.  Beautiful, epic and so, so hard to leave.

Bunny and Doggy.  iPhone 6s.

Camping at the base of Mt Hood.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 32mm; f8, ISO 280, 1/30 sec, -1/3 stop exposure adjustment.

Stream and rocks at Mt. Hood.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 44mm, f22, ISO 50, 4 sec, -2/3 stop exposure adjustment.

Samantha and Parker at Mt. Saint Helens.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 48mm, ISO 200, f5.6, 1/1000 sec.

O! the Joy!

We made it as far as Florence, OR Tuesday night and then stopped to do our laundry and get some dinner.  On Wednesday morning we headed north into the heart of the Oregon coast.  Beautiful doesn't begin to capture it.  The land undulates between mountain and beach, between pine and seagrass, between expansive wide beaches and rocky coastline.  US 101 alternately cuts into the mountains and then dumps you back out into breathtaking views of lighthouses perched high upon volcanic rock outcrops.  I insisted that Wednesday would be a "device free" day so that the kids would have the opportunity to see the spectacular views out the back windows.  They rose to the occasion and we stopped several times to view lighthouses and look for starfish, crabs and urchins among the crashing waves and driftwood.  I had remembered this portion of the coast as being special and it delivered.  And then some.  It is reminiscent of the coastline of Maine but it's more accessible and the beaches are some of the most beautiful you'll find anywhere.  And if we needed a bonus, the fog that had shrouded our views the day before lifted almost as soon as we fired the old Pontiac to life.  Luck dealt us some face cards.  Right on time.

By late afternoon, we headed inland to Tillamook, a small town about 75 miles south of the Columbia river.  In case you've been living under a rock, Tillamook is famous for cheese.  And, apparently, ice cream.  Unable to resist a cheesy roadside attraction, we pulled into the visitor center at the Tillamook factory to sample some of the cheesy comestibles.  Pepper Jack?  Check. Sharp cheddar?  Check.  We watched them package big blocks of cheese through the observation windows and then retired to the commissary to have ice cream.  Mint chocolate chip and Oregon hazelnut.  I confess that for the first few days of Man vs Machine IV, we struggled to hit our stride.  I packed too much driving into the first few days but on this day, I remembered what it was all about.  Slow down, turn of the electronic babysitters, play in the ocean and say "cheese."  Not bad.

Just before nightfall we turned the corner at Astoria, OR, the farthest northwesterly point on Man vs Machine IV.  200 years ago, Lewis and Clark, at the behest of President Thomas Jefferson, trekked four thousand miles across the continent and reached what is now Astoria.  When they finally gazed upon the Pacific (well, actually it wasn't the Pacific, it was an estuary of the Columbia but who cares), Lewis wrote in his journal "O! the Joy!"  It's amazing that they made it.  We've only gone half the distance they went in 1804.  Sure, by modern standards we've done it the hard way, but really.  They walked.  And paddled.  And froze.  And then once they reached Astoria they built a fort and then had to turn around and do it all again just to get home.  It defies all conception.

On Thursday we'll begin our journey east to Mt. Hood and then on to Glacier National Park, traversing much of the same route they would have followed--up the Columbia River and then the Snake.  They wouldn't have made it without the help of some friendly indians.  And just like Lewis and Clark, we'll have an old indian is guiding us as well.

We paused for a photo op under the Astoria Bridge that connects Oregon to Washington over the Columbia River.  Our old indian deserves a medal.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens, ISO 100, f4, 1/800 sec.

Hemet Head Light.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 50mm lens, ISO 100, f8, 1/500 sec.

Samantha and Parker play in the tide pools.  Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-200mm lens @ 24mm, ISO 160, f11, 1/160 sec.

Yacquina Lighthouse.  Nikon D800 Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 86mm, f11, ISO 160, 1/400 sec.