Category: Free Roaming Photography

During the editing process of Reclaiming the Night: Preserving the Dark Skies of Jackson Hole, Wyoming, I was confronted with a bit of an issue: I had no music. I knew how important music is to a film, but I had no budget to license tracks, let alone hire someone to create an original score, even if they were a friend. I was left with only two options. I was either to pirate music or make my own.

Being a content creator myself, I wasn’t about to pirate any music for my film. So, with absolutely no music production experience, I tried to create my own. – Read more

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January

I had no idea just how much my life would be shaken up through 2014. It all started much the same way as 2013. I was frequently showshoeing up Blacktail Butte in the frigid dead of winter to see what new tracks awaited me, and if any critters would be out while I was.

On an especially windy day, I was exploring late in the day and noticed on the other side of the butte a lone bull elk, likely noticing me as well. With the wind howling over the Teton Mountains behind him in late afternoon light, I knew I’d have at least a decent black and white image. The wind and snow blowing off the Tetons came out beautifully and the ridgeline and the mountains in the background did a great job of dwarfing such a majestic animal.

February

February saw a number of white-out blizzards storm through Jackson Hole. I was driving home to Kelly from Jackson during one in particular where the wind-blown snow and the intense dumping of much more created almost zero visibility conditions. With no shoulder to park on and no certainty of anyone in front or behind me, I made several quick stops in the road before heading home. I caught some nice black and whites from that day, but this one in particular stood out from the rest. The snow that stuck to the smoothed, dead cottonwood trunk created an uncanny sketched look, which still confuses people who see it in print. It was another addition to a renewed interest I was finding in black and white photography.

March

Though technically early in the season, many people were beginning to hope for bear sightings as early as March, myself being one of them. I made a few trips up to the Oxbow Bend area eager to be the first to find a great grizzly out on the prowl for some much needed nourishment. Though I struck out in March, I was still able to come away with this bald eagle at Oxbow Bend, captured in flight above a break in the water. The simplicity of the shot and gracefulness of the eagle made for a nice black and white.

April

With April came the emergence of several bears, though one in particular captured the hearts of everyone in Jackson: Grizzly Bear #760. He was one of the first out and frequented many areas near the road, causing many to suspect that he was related to Grizzly Bear #399 or her daughter, #610. Early in the season, he was noticeably afraid of the water, an unfortunate circumstance since here he was lingering near an elk carcass submerged in a creek surging with snow melt. He was never able to pull it up and eventually moved on, though never too far from the public eye. He quickly became a very loved bear and many would argue that he seemed to enjoy the attention.

Unfortunately, that was his last spring. After simply loitering near a residential area, he was relocated to completely unfamiliar territory on the other side of Yellowstone National Park, where he was almost immediately put down by the Wyoming Game & Fish for reasons that still have not been made clear. Naturally, this caused an uproar in many locals as they demanded a satisfactory explanation, something everyone impatiently waits to hear. It was a tragic end to a loved bear that did absolutely nothing wrong. His only “crime” was showing how easy it is for humans and predators to coexist peacefully. DNA tests eventually did confirm that he was an offspring of 399.

May

In many ways, it’s quite tragic how many of Grizzly Bear #399’s offspring have either been put down or killed. Yet she continues to thrive and is still the most beloved bear in the area.

One day in May, I was simply on my way home from Jackson when I noticed a car pulled over on the road. I had assumed it was just a moose given the specific area, but when I looked back to make sure, I saw a grizzly bear with two cubs! Sure enough, it was 399 herself. I wasn’t at all prepared in terms of the clothes I was wearing to stand out in a wet snow storm for multiple hours photographing bears. The above freezing temperatures combined with a persistent snow would certainly leave me soaked and frigid with hypothermia, plus I was only about 10 more minutes from home. So, like a wise photographer, I jumped out and began shooting. It was only a matter of minutes before she climbed up on a small ridge and shook off the accumulating snow from her back. Had I driven home, I would have missed it.

June

Snow was melting and the mountains were calling! I made several short backpacking trips throughout June, a couple of times accompanied by my new girlfriend who was just as eager as I was about getting away from the roadsides and into higher elevations. Along with her, the night sky was also beginning to take a higher priority in my life. With nights being so short though, night photography was hard to come by, especially while trying to work full time. Regardless, I still was able to capture my tent under the Milky Way on a short backpacking trip near my home in Kelly.

July

July was when I noticed many priorities and interests shifting in myself. In a short time, I was fed up with the drama that occurred whenever a bear appeared by the road. Likewise, I wasn’t inspired to shoot the same photos that dozens of other people were also shooting. I had moved to Jackson years ago to hike the backcountry and still hadn’t done as much as I had hoped. At the same time, I was advancing in dark sky efforts and had by this time gotten a few interviews that I had begun to assemble into a short film. I also had purchased some astrophotography gear that I was beginning to feel more comfortable with now that nights were getting longer again. In between it all I was trying to work a full-time job as a wildlife safari guide.

This all contributed to me having a very stressful and confusing July. As a result, I didn’t capture much photography other than on the safaris, from which this pronghorn is from.

August

It wasn’t until August that I finally got over the learning curve of astrophotography with the gear I was using. The first successful image I captured was of the Trifid and Lagoon Nebulae, aka, M20 and M8, respectively. The next few images I captured thereafter came out significantly better than anything I was getting prior. I was shooting as much as I could, but also learning quite a bit of what not to do in the process.

It was also this month that the short documentary film I was working on began to consume me. I had to finish it before the fall, and so I cut my hours at work quite a bit to make sure I would have it done before starting a more ambitious project in the fall.

September

September became even busier than I could have guessed. I was hard at work getting my short film done as quickly as possible, and also found out that I would be giving a TEDxJacksonHole talk the next month, so the vast majority of the days were spent preparing and rehearsing, or working on the film. At night, if conditions were right, I would set up the astrophotography gear and gradually become more familiar and knowledgeable about the processes required to capture a nice deep space object.

The North America Nebula was one of my nicer ones from another month that saw limited shooting.

October

In October, I successfully gave my TEDxJacksonHole talk. The next week, I finished my short film, and then the very next day, left for the southwest. It was only my first morning on the trip when I captured this shot. Having driven through southern Wyoming along Highway 191 many times, I had always thought it was be a great place to camp for a night. Something about the vast open distances and remote high desert landscapes had always seemed alluring. I finally got the chance on my first night out. The sunrise that I woke up to did not disappoint and ensured that I would return one day, though next time getting much farther from the highway.

November

Though not as relaxing as I would have liked, the trip was a success. I gathered interviews from many different people and perspectives and was ready to return home as temperatures began to drop around the southwest. Before heading home though, I was called on an errand for Wyoming Stargazing while in Sedona, Arizona. The executive director had just bought the 20″ telescope that one of my interviewees was selling, and I was to make a quick detour to Santa Fe to pick it up. Along the way, I stopped off at El Malpais National Monument for what turned out to be an outstanding sunset! My only complaint was the ranger at the Visitor Center who had nothing good to say about the area, which was a shame considering how unique and interesting the geology of the landscape is there.

December

I spent much of December settling back in and not getting out as much as I would have liked. I made a trip up to Moran earlier in the month to pick up a few things from a friend that lives there. I got there shortly before sunset and decided to kill a little time by going for a quick walk along the dam. To my surprise, Jackson Lake still had not frozen over due to the unseasonably warm temperatures the area was receiving at the time. Shortly after parking, the low sun began to light the backs of the storm clouds that were hanging on the Teton Mountains. The calm water created a perfect reflection as a single duck flew from nearby the dam to a quieter location in the distance. It was probably one of the moodiest winter scenes I’ve ever witnessed.

Reclaiming the Night – Preserving the Dark Skies of Jackson Hole

I’ve always had a fondness for the film industry and movie-making. With the technology now readily available in nearly every camera, I finally had the tools to make my own film, but finding a subject for such a project always seemed daunting and out of reach. It wasn’t until I became more involved in dark sky efforts here in Jackson that the subject all of a sudden seemed so obvious. I wasn’t wondering anymore if I could do it, I simply had to do it. Inspiration and ideas were flowing and I was desperate to make it happen.

I began collecting interviews from people that I thought would give good insight and offer a valuable perspective for the finished product. I spent much of the latter part of the summer editing it together and finding the right progression and timing, where I discovered exactly why good editing takes so much time. The plus side was that I loved the entire process of it.

Once I had most of the film finished though, I ran into a significant problem. There was no music. It wasn’t in my budget to hire someone, which I would have liked to have done locally, nor could I have even afforded to license tracks off the internet. With no other alternative, I downloaded a free (to try) digital audio workstation (DAW) called Reaper and tried to make my own music for the film with absolutely no experience in music production. To my surprise, the friends that I showed rough cuts with some music incorporated to was very positive. I also didn’t mention that it was mine until after they watched it to make sure I was getting honest feedback. I scored the rest of the film, made some final tweaks, and after uploading it, set out on a road trip to start shooting a feature-length documentary.

TEDxJacksonHole – Restoring the Night Sky For a Healthier Future

I attended TEDxJacksonHole in 2013 and thought how much fun it would be to give a talk that was important, original, and relevant. With no idea at the time what my talk would have been on, I let the idea go and didn’t think much of it. When nominations for speakers for 2014 were announced, I was deeply involved in dark sky efforts in Jackson Hole and knew right away that that would be a great fit to the Imagine theme that they had announced.

After an adventurous weekend in the Wind River Mountains with my girlfriend, I came back to town to find out that I had just enough time to get the forms filled in before the deadline. I rehearsed and refined my talk all of September and into October with the help of two different coaches, as well as my girlfriend’s invaluable insight. The day finally arrived, and I gave the talk above.

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My travels with my girlfriend across the southwest took us to Las Vegas, Nevada, easily one of the largest polluters of the night sky in the continent. Our first night in the area, we were camped at the campground near Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, to the west of Las Vegas. A friend we met up with remarked that it was like watching a sunrise all night long, stuck in that moment in time. He was perfectly accurate. As we were getting ready for bed that night, the glow had us anticipating a gradual increase in lightness from the east. – Read more

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During my trip to the southwestern United States this past fall, one of my destinations was Chaco Culture National Historic Park, or more commonly known as, Chaco Canyon. Turning off the highway overrun these days with traffic for the oil and gas industry, I began the winding journey down the back roads to Chaco Canyon, only to find 15 miles in that the campground was full. An amazing thing about Chaco Canyon is that it’s in the middle of nowhere. A downside to Chaco Canyon is that it’s in the middle of nowhere. The nearest lodging, assuming I wanted to go that route, was over two hours away and I wasn’t quite sure just how far back the oil industry was destroying our beautiful BLM lands, so camping anywhere nearby was out of the question. I pulled out my atlas and found two national monuments still in northwestern New Mexico, but neither of them terribly close, either being a good bet for camping though. I went with the closer one, which wound up being Bandelier National Monument.

Driving in from the east, I began climbing into the Jemez Mountains, home to ancient volcanoes buried in vast ponderosa pine forests between high desert regions. A fascinating natural landscape along the way that I was interested in exploring was the Valles Caldera National Preserve. This is the heart of the ancient volcanoes that are scattered throughout the mountains. Today, it’s an enormous open valley with large elk herds that frequent the area. My wish for the area is to reintroduce native species, such as gray wolves and bison, to create a healthier landscape that could easily rival Yellowstone National Park’s Lamar Valley, Serengeti of America. Desperate for a campsite however, I continued onward to Bandelier National Monument.

I arrived at the campground at sunset and had much of it to myself, allowing me to secure a spot conducive to capture some night photography before sleeping off the extra driving time added to my day.

I woke up early the next morning shortly before sunrise and excited to explore my new surroundings. I immediately got up made my way into the main area of the national monument. Along my drive to the Visitor Center, I found a few mule deer browsing on some breakfast before I stopped at a scenic overlook to watch a foggy, though beautiful sunrise above what I was soon to learn was Frijoles Canyon, the primary destination for visitors to the park. I continued my drive into the canyon and parked at the Visitor Center. Still closed. So, I had a quick breakfast in the nearly freezing temperatures and began hiking toward some ruins, which as I found out is apparently what the park is known for.

I soon discovered that the interesting thing about these ruins is that they were built directly into the eroded holes and crevices of volcanic tuff. All of a sudden the site took on a new life for me as I eagerly followed the trail, zig-zagging through complexes and taking spur trails up a ladder into a natural cavity in the rock. Thanks to my early arrival, I was free to take my time composing shots and experiencing the ruins in solitude and peace without the screaming apathetic adults and iPad-withdrawn children running up and down the pathway doing the insulting, stereotypical Indian call. That all came as I was hiking out, thankfully.

Past the the Big Kiva, Tyuonyi, and the Talus House, I found myself at the Long House as I noticed one or two people appearing on the trail far behind me. Undeterred, I kept my pace as I tried to find a decent composition of the Long House in the limited space I had to work with.

Still feeling the enjoyment of the moment, I descended from the ruins into the autumn cottonwood trees and found a fork in the trail. Left would bring me back to the Visitor Center, right would bring me to the Alcove House. With a few people already heading to the Alcove House after skipping the main ruins, I decided to take advantage while it was still relatively quiet.

The hike became more scenic as the trail quite gradually ascended up the canyon. The gradual incline ended though at the spur to the Alcove House which climbs up a cliff via four ladders. For those with a fear of heights, find a comfortable rock and grab a snack while your friend(s) get a picture for you. For those without a fear of heights, the trail climbs beautifully up the cliffs of volcanic tuff, each ladder happily exposing a new view of the canyon below. The reconstructed Alcove House itself sits tucked away modestly in a large alcove (for lack of a better word) carved away by erosion and time, a nice escape from the clustered ruins downstream.

I had a nice stroll through the fall cottonwoods on my way back to the Visitor Center to get more information about potential hikes and answers to general questions. The rangers gave me a wealth of information, but neglected to mention that if I drove out, I wouldn’t be allowed to drive back in, something I learned the hard way after running a few errands in the nearest town. With no alternative, I parked at my campsite and evaluated my two options for how to enjoy the rest of my day around Frijoles Canyon: take the shuttle back to the Visitor Center, or hike back to the canyon. I found the latter to be a more refreshing choice, probably aided by the fact that I had been reading Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey at the time. In fact I think I felt Abbey’s ghost slap me for taking so long to evaluate the two options. I packed up, and headed down the Frey Trail, passing a very bored looking group waiting for the shuttle. Good call, Ed.

I was pleased to have the trail to myself. After all, why cut yourself off from the outside world with roads and cars when you can immerse yourself in it simply by taking a few steps? The solitude gave me the enjoyment of watching distant storms roll off the mountains as thunder murmured from the large clouds far away. Birds chirped and squirrels raced home in anticipation of my crossing their territory as the trail approached the canyon and the view down was nothing short of spectacular. It continued for the entire length down until I was back where I was this morning. I crossed the canyon floor and this time began up a long trail that rose up the hill on the opposite side of the canyon. It was this trail that caused me to briefly regret not being more prepared to get a backpacking permit earlier that day. My appetite to explore deeper and deeper into the monument was whet with every new opportunity to peer farther up the canyon.

Instead, I reached the top of the hill and wandered about the trails for a mile or so before heading down to the canyon, and ultimately, back to camp. The highlights included an unexcavated ruin site, a large ant hill, and a tarantula, all of which may make an appearance in my upcoming light pollution film.

My hike back to camp was a longer one, not so much in distance, but in time. A few time-lapses, audio recordings of crickets, and just a general natural contentment contributed to my carefree course back to camp. By the time I got back, the sun had set long ago and I had only enough time to eat a quick dinner before it was dark enough to shoot a couple of night time-lapses before bed.

The next morning was spent down at the Visitor Center in pursuit of a creature that had intrigued and eluded me the day before: the Abert’s Squirrel. It’s similar in many ways to the standard grey squirrel found across the country, but with a pure white underside and large rabbit-like ears. I spent about 45 minutes stalking and sneaking through the trees trying to catch at least a halfway decent shot of one, only to have them taunt and laugh at me from the tree tops. At least, it seemed that way from my view. I was able to catch a bit of video of a pair chasing each other around, but good still photography shots were lacking. Abert’s squirrels 1, me 0.

Later that morning I drove over to the Tsunkawi section of the park on my way to Santa Fe. It contains another unexcavated ruin site sitting atop a butte made up of more volcanic tuff, though surrounded much more by high desert terrain. For those needing immense drop-offs and enormous mountains to be entertained, skip this section. For those that can find subtle beauty in a landscape while appreciating the culture and history found literally beneath your feet, this is not to be missed. The hike around the butte is quite scenic (in the subtle way) and contains many more ruin sites and of course, petroglyphs. Get there early in the morning or more toward the evening for the best photographic opportunities.

The next time I visit Bandelier National Monument, I hope to have at least a week to spend exploring its backcountry. Though I saw all the main sites, I know I only scratched the surface of the wonder and natural beauty spread throughout its 33,000 acres.