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I N S P I R A T I O N  *  I N F O R M A T I O N  *  I N V I T A T I O N S

M A Y  2 7,   2 0 1 5

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SPRING COLORS, JAPANESE GARDEN, PORTLAND, OREGON

Warm greetings. I hope all is going very well for you as we arrive at the start of summer. The year is moving fast.

Memorial Day weekend brought an opportunity for me to join a good friend, Tim Wier, in Portland and travel to southern Oregon for a four day tour. I jumped.

Tim lives in Texas with his family and shares my love for wild, open space and a passion for photography. With his Texas roots and a great sense of humor, he trumps me in glorious storytelling, abundant technical skills, travel research, and other valued talents. Fortunately, he is a generous and able teacher and a great travel companion for long days of exploration. When we share the road, we tend to laugh often at ourselves and the many bumps in the journey.


MERLIN'S CIRCLE, SEA STACKS, BANDON BEACH, OREGON

After a night in Portland we made a dash south along the coast to Bandon Beach, where we spent two nights. In Bandon, the weather was dark, damp, and cold.

The first afternoon, evening, and early next morning held minor grumbling and mumbling about the lack of both light and color. It's easy to feel disappointed when the sun doesn't shine and the big gray fog machine seems omnipresent.

After a day of this experience, Tim took the rental car and left for a short trip to a waterfall in another part of Oregon. I stayed in Bandon and explored the coast. After all, I had my lucky rubber boots with me - important beach wandering tools. I had a desire to witness the tides (which change about 8 feet from high to low this time of year) and get closer to the strange and mysterious rock formations that dot the coast.


FACE ROCK, BANDON BEACH, OREGON

That morning (Friday), I walked alone on the beach in the light mist for about five hours. Solitude allows reflection.

At times, when I travel, I feel disappointment and wish for change, yet oh so often wonder and possibility are right in front of me. In this case, I slowly let go of my weather hopes and went with the moment. Even in the fog, the rocks and coastline are truly incredible. Moody and dramatic. I studied the tide charts, walked up and down the beach for about six miles, and scurried about with my tripod and backpack. The three images of the sea stacks shown in this newsletter were produced that afternoon.

Before I arrived at Bandon, I envisioned red and orange sunsets and warm morning light on the rocks - perfect for classic beach photography. It took a bit of repositioning (in Silicon Valley terms, a "pivot") to recognize the dark, wet, foggy weather could actually be a positive element in my experience. I sensed the scene might be conveyed with long exposures and the power and emotion of black and white imagery. This notion set off a new creative exploration. I pushed toward simple, distilled compositions. As a photographer, one tries to express the feeling and emotion beyond the scenery. As always, this was a learning experience. Enjoyed.


THE GATHERING, BANDON BEACH SEA STACKS, OREGON

Throughout the day, an
endless series of waves splashed on the oddly shaped sea stacks. I can sit for a long time watching the flow of the ocean. Meditation.

On Saturday, we left Bandon and traveled east about four hours to Crater Lake National Park for a day of exploration. When we arrived at the rim of the crater, thick fog and mist arrived with us.


THE MISTY RIM, CRATER LAKE NATIONAL PARK, OREGON 

My first view of the clouds spilling over the rocks reminded me of San Francisco and the Marin Headlands in the afternoon and evening. Mesmerizing.  
 


FOG AND MIST COVER CRATER LAKE NATIONAL PARK, OREGON

On the first day in Crater Lake, we were able to view the rim of the crater for about ten minutes. We chuckled as we discussed the distance traveled and the outcome. The entire rim of the crater disappeared. Gone. Vanished. A white, swirling soup emerged. Later, we were told the lake, which sits at over 7,000 feet in elevation and receives roughly 500 inches of snow each year, had been covered in clouds for two weeks. Wow.

We spent the afternoon and part of the evening climbing a snow covered hill to watch clouds flow over the lake. No epic photography. Tried. Just drizzle and short, blurry views of the lake. We met some great people and embraced the National Park experience. I spent the night on an air pad with a sleeping bag in a small room near the edge of the lake. Warm and comfortable. Last minute arrangement. Lucky. Slept like a happy dog ... I mean log. 

Sunday morning, we awoke before 4 AM and drove to the edge of the crater in pursuit of a sunrise. It was dark. The wind had settled. The stars glimmered in the sky. The water was mirror like. Across the lake, to the east, a slight, orange glow began to appear. We felt a sense of possibility.

When we reached the vantage point we targeted the day before, an area below Watchman's Point, we were alone. The sky held promise. There was urgency in our effort given the rapidly rising sun. I put on my storm gear (to stay warm) and climbed down a small ridge on loose rocks to gain a vantage point. Two hours later, I shook my head with a sense of wonder.  

FIRST LIGHT ON THE RIM OF THE CALDERA, CRATER LAKE, OREGON

The colors in the sky that morning were stunning. The warm, orange tones of the early morning light, feathery clouds, dabbles of white fog on the surface of the lake, dark black rocks on the edge of the crater's rim, dribbles of snow and patches of dark green trees on Wizard Island, and the blue soul of the deep, deep water in the lake seemed to interact and embrace each emerging moment together. Memorable.

When the first rays of light hit the fog on the far side of the lake, the white layer of mist woke up. It literally spread from the corner of the lake where it slept to slowly cover the entire surface of water and surround Wizard Island below us. The rays of the sun lit the snow covered peaks and bounced off the clouds and onto the still, deep blue water. The entire transition from dark night to bright daylight, the start of this special morning, was filled with glowing color across the sky and a smooth reflective lake surface. I LOVED the full transition. These are moments that make all of us grateful to spend time in raw nature. There is something inside us that connects to the awe and beauty of open space and the daily patterns of light we experience on earth.

After our sunrise venture, we went in search of two key goals - a large, warm breakfast and much needed gas for our vehicle (which is only available in one location within the Park). Next, we repacked our gear and headed north to the Portland airport. I was home in San Francisco that Sunday night. Magical moments from this short trip linger. 


JAPANESE GARDEN, PORTLAND, OREGON

If you have not yet had a chance to visit southern Oregon, I recommend you place this region on your list. It's filled with rolling farmland, fascinating coastline, snow capped mountains, waterfalls, rivers, and deep forest. All of the locals and transplants (yes, there are people in this region of the world) we met were warm and genuine. Oregon is a special place.

One quick note ... if you make it to Bandon and seek a morning meal, consider the "Minute Cafe." I sampled a large stack of pumpkin, banana pancakes. Twice. Smile. So good.

Hope you enjoyed this missive. Take care,

Jeff


PS: I sat near the tranquility pond in the interior of the Japanese Garden in Portland for a while. The Koi (brigthly colored, Japanese "brocaded" carp) swim in slow, beautiful patterns. I wondered if it might be possible to convey a touch of the feeling one has while watching these unusual fish move through the dark water. Tranquil. If you watch the Koi for a while and then close your eyes, it's like a blurred, colorful tapestry - soft lines of orange, white, red, and yellow. The image below - a six second exposure of the fish moving through the pond - reminds me of the experience.


KOI IN MOTION, JAPANESE GARDEN, PORTLAND, OREGON