The Terra Galleria Blog – QT Luong

updated Aug 18, 2003

A few weeks ago, we ventured into the northernmost of the Florida Keys, Elliott Key in Biscayne National Park. Today, we visit the Key situated at the opposite end of the chain. Dry Tortugas National Park, 70 miles of Key West, Florida, like Biscayne is mostly an underwater park. The land area consists of seven diminutive islets, totaling only 40 acres of sand.

Few people visit Dry Tortugas, because of its remote location, however it is a unique place with one unexpected sight. There are two ways to visit Dry Tortugas National Park: by ferry, or by seaplane.

For my first visit to Dry Tortugas, in December 1997, I wanted to see the islets from the air, since this would provide an interesting perspective on this very flat terrain. At that time I was still so fond of large format photography that I tried to shoot everything with my 5×7 camera, including aerials. I have to confess that lacking the experience and technique of a Brad Washburn or William Garnet, none of those images turned out to be even competent. This helped teach me “horses for courses”, using the right camera for each situation.

The big downside was that while a trip by ferry would have let me spend five hours on the main island, Garden Key, or even camp overnight, the trip by plane gave me only a little over two hours there (note: as of 2010, full day plane trips are available, but they cost twice as much). The island is so small that if I was just sightseeing, I could easily see every nook and cranny of it in that time, however photographing it was another matter. Since the park has two components, nature and history, I tried to capture both. I first focused on the Caribbean atmosphere on the sandy beaches, then rushed inside Fort Jefferson, the massive brick structure (largest in the Western Hemisphere) that takes up much of the surface area of Garden Key, and milled around the courtyard and galleries, looking without much success for a defining image of the place.

The fort is so large that two-thirds of it drops directly into the water, just protected from the ocean by a low seawall, the spot that I had missed, because of its unusual position. With less than ten minutes left before the departure time, as I took a quick look there, I saw instantly the image that captured what I felt to be the essence of the location: the geometric meeting of the luminous sky, turquoise waters and the brick walls, at the same time so incongruous, but so integrated into this environment, with the slight curve of the seawall leading the eye into the image. As there was not enough time left for a large format photograph, I settled for a quick shot with my 35mm camera, already planning to come back by ferry.

Since this blitz trip I’ve returned three times to the tiny Dry Tortugas. This particular spot has become my favorite in the park, almost a “signature image”. The seawall may look symmetric, but I prefer that particular corner (situated NW) of the fort for shooting mid-day, or the previous one (situated W) for shooting at sunset, because of the open views over water, and the angle under which the sun strikes the wall. Others just don’t work as well for me. The West corner has the advantage of being un-interupted, while the North-West corner has an opening which allows the water to flow between the moat and the ocean, which can be distracting while shooting with a very wide angle lens. At sunrise on the East side of the fort, because of the orientation of the walls, it is not possible to get good cross-lighting. This leaves mid-day to sunset as the best time to photograph on the West and North-West side.

Despite photographing there on each of my subsequent trips, I have not been able to duplicate the mid-day “quick shot” taken on my first sight of the moat. Not that nature hasn’t been generous in her variety: I’ve witnessed overcast days, stormy days with gale-force winds, sunny days with clouds. However, only an almost cloudless day (that some declare to be uninteresting) with a mid-winter sun made it possible to create the stark and minimal composition with the pointed shadow that initially caught my eye. As the year progresses, the higher position of the sun produces a shadow that becomes less and less interesting. It is still acceptable in late winter, but in summer is just too flat.

On my third trip to the island, an unexpected storm moved in. As waves washed over the seawall, I had no choice but to create a monochromatic composition with a long exposure, at dusk. Because of the cloudy sky, sunset and night photographs would have to wait for a fourth trip, which I made in the summer of 2013.

Which one is your favorite ?

View more images of Dry Tortugas National Park

(More pictures of Lost Lake and the Diving Board)

The Diving Board is the prominent rock in front of the face of Half-Dome. The location offers one of the most impressive views in Yosemite. On the West, you see the whole Valley, below you is a 30 feet overhang and a 1500 feet vertical face almost straight above Mirror Lake, and on the East, you are treated to the most glorious view of the face of Half-Dome. I find the view much more interesting than the one you get from the Half-Dome summit itself, from which you do not see the face.

Like the previous entry, Fern Ledge, the Diving Board is the site of a well-known photograph by Ansel Adams. This photograph, “Monolith”, has always been considered by Adams himself to be one of his most important, because it was first time he was able to pre-visualize the final print, while shooting the last of the twelve glass plates he carried that day. It is the first image included in his book Examples: The Making of 40 Photographs (by the way, one of the must-read books for any serious photographer). As an homage to Adams, there was no way I was going to leave my 5×7 large format camera in the car. Adams made the outing a day hike, but as I was going to photograph in color, I planned to stay overnight to catch the last rays of sun. I made sure to take plenty of film in order not to find myself in Adams situation !

Before getting to the description of the route, I must tell you about an eerie coincidence. Just two days before I hiked to the Diving Board, I attended a lecture about Ansel Adams by the great black and white landscape photographer John Sexton, who was one of his assistants. John happened to show footage of the Adams group on the Diving Board in 1927, shot on a movie camera brought by Virginia, who during this outing was his fiancee. As it was April, they were crawling on snowy slopes in decidedly unoutdoorsy-looking gear, holding on to a rope by hand (not harness) on the final slabs. I was surprised by Adams diminutive build, especially for someone who was lugging so much gear. The footage was set to a recording of Ansel playing the Prelude No. 1 in C major from Johann Sebastian Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier (digitized by Charles Cramer, himself a pianist and a extraordinary photographer). Being myself a former violonist, the Prelude is the only piano piece I can play at this moment.

After branching off from the Half-Dome trail, my brother-in-law and I did not see anybody until noon the day after, when we ran into veteran rock climber Clint Cummins and his friend near Lost Lake. It had been more than a decade since I last saw him, so this was a surprise to meet him in the middle of nowhere. They were going to climb up the Snake Dike route on the West face of Half-Dome, then rappel down a steeper route to replace old climbing anchors, part of an on-going project from the American Safe Climbing Association. His friend is camping close to the Diving Board (variation B below) to work on the project all summer. Talk about dedication !

I made my photographs of the face of Half-Dome with a 110mm on my 5×7 camera, about the equivalent of 24mm on full-frame digital. Since I had brought zooms covering all the focal lengths from 17mm to 300mm for my two Canon 5D mark2 cameras, I could choose any focal length in digital, yet I also gravitated towards 24mm. When I came home, I was a bit surprised to see that Adams apparently chose to frame the face tighter than I did. However, a re-reading of Examples showed that Adams regrets that the 1/4 top of his negative was lost due to a fire damage.

Download KMZ file (Update 2018: KMZ/KML format appears to have changed in the while, please let me know if you are able to convert it to current format
Update 2023: the file works in Gaia GPS. )

The hike does not require technical skills, nor is it exposed (that is, until you arrive at the Diving Board, where the sheer drops impressed my brother-in-law, even though he is a accomplished rock-climber). However, some scrambling, bushwacking, loose and steep terrain, and difficult trail-finding make it quite more difficult than the distance (about 6 mi) or elevation gain (3500 feet) would suggest. Allow about 6 hours up, 4 hours down. There are good bivy spots right on the Diving Board. Personally, I have hiked the Half-Dome trail only down, not up, so I could not compare it, but my brother-in-law who had done it both ways rates the Diving Board as a harder hike than Half-Dome.

There are a few places on the internet where directions can be found, however, after reading them, I felt slightly confused. I subsequently understood that this was because they do not describe the same route. For the sake of clarity, I will therefore describe the most simple route first, and then mention the two main variations, which are more technical shortcuts.

1. From the Happy Isles Trailhead (altitude 4000 ft), follow the Half-Dome trail past Nevada Falls (JMT 4mi or Mist 3mi). About 0.6 mi from the new restroom, watch for a metal sign pointing to Merced Lake and Little Yosemite.

2. 100 yards after that sign, leave the main trail for an unofficial trail marked by a cairn, ascending a small ridge on the left (N). From the top of that ridge, you’ll see a view of the rounded face of Half-Dome before descending in the forest.

3. Follow an easy trail for 0.4mi, heading WNW, then step over a small creek to your right (Latitude:37.734380 Longitude:-119.528297). If instead of crossing the creek you continue straight, you’ll meet the gully between Broderick and Liberty Cap (see variation A).

4. After 0.1mi, skirt the south shore of Lost Lake, then continue for 0.4mi until you reach a rock bench forming a saddle between Broderick and Half-Dome. Continue straight (W) towards the end of this bench for 0.1 mi (Latitude: 37.735775 Longitude -119.538625 altitude 6232.0 ft).

5. The trail becomes more difficult to follow, although it is still marked with cairns. Cross a gully dropping down 150 feet, heading W, then after 0.2 mi, follow the line of steepest ascent in the forest, heading NNW on loose slopes with heavy underbrush, staying on the left. This is a steep section, as you gain almost 1500 ft in less than 0.5mi.

6. The forest becomes less dense, thanks to burn zones, but there is still a lot of manzanita to trash through. Before reaching a less steep slope, in early summer you may see a wet area with a small spring, where you may have to straddle a burned tree while walking accross a fallen tree. You eventually reach a plateau covered by a forest with almost no undergrowth. The Diving Board (latitude 37.742358 longitude -119.541180 altitude 7513.8 ft) is within sight, on the left of Half-Dome, directly directly NNE. You can also follow the ridge on the left instead of hiking up sandy slopes.

Water sources

• Merced River after Nevada Falls (1)
• Creek at route junction before Lost Lake (3)
• Lost Lake, swampy, but large enough (4)
• Spring on manzanita slopes below Diving Board, probably seasonal (6)

Shortcuts:

A. instead of circling around Liberty Cap, follow the gully between Broderick and Liberty Cap (class 3, difficult option that only experienced climbers/scramblers should attempt).

B. From the Broderick/Half Dome saddle rock bench, instead of heading W and dropping down, follow up the base of slabs towards the right (NE), then traverse left (W) on exposed ledges above those slabs below the base of Half-Dome until you turn the corner and then wade through manzanita.

Part 3 of 6: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Check out my book: Spectacular Yosemite

You may have noticed the new theme. This change was on the occasion of the first anniversary of this blog. In that first year, I’ve posted exactly 99 articles, the majority of which has been about specific locations, although I have written about a range of topics. To continue, I need your input. Please tell me what you’d like to see on this blog for the next year !

If you do not see the questions above, click here.

If you look carefully at the Upper Yosemite Falls wall, you will notice a tiny horizontal ledge protruding all the way to the waterfall, around 1/8 of its height. This is Fern Ledge. I had read about it before, but my curiosity was rekindled when I saw an episode of The National Parks, America’s Best Idea where it was mentioned that John Muir crawled behind Upper Yosemite Falls on Fern Ledge to see the moon through the waterfall. The position clearly offers a tremendously close view of Upper Yosemite Fall, but I was a bit worried about safety, until my friends Tom Lambert and Theresa Ho assured me that this was one of their favorite hikes, one where they often take friends. John Muir narrowly escaping death crawling on the ledge, but you do not have to try to get behind the fall. You can just stop at a safe distance and still enjoy the proximity of the vertiginous waterfall.

I will first of all refer you to Tom’s excellent description of Fern Ledge. While you are there, be sure to check the site for other places to explore in Yosemite. I had no difficulty finding the route using Tom’s notes, but since sometimes having an alternative viewpoint can be useful, I’ll add a few comments, as well as two pictures of the route. I am also providing an unedited KMZ file (Update 2018: KMZ format appears to have changed in the while, please let me know if you are able to convert it to current format). It is missing the Fern Ledge proper (the Trackstick GPS chip easily looses the signal), but there are still some useful waypoints.

View of the route from the NPS stables

The most challenging part for us was getting lost … in the “concrete jungle” of Yosemite Village. The volunteer lady sitting in front of the visitor center had no idea of where the NPS stables are, nor had she ever heard of Fern Ledge. However, once we asked a ranger, she promptly pointed us to the NPS stables. From the visitor center, continue past the Museum, then make a right at the first main road. You will arrive at an area with lots of maintenance buildings, and few trees. From the stables, which are at the edge of the forest, the starting talus slope will be obvious.

The easiest way to find the talus slope is to start at the NPS stables, however, as can be seen in the image below, there is only one such slope in the area, so you can also get there and find it by hiking the trail between Yosemite Falls and Yosemite village, which will cross the base of that talus slope.

View of the route from Glacier Point

At the top of the talus slope, after turning a tight corner where you have to use your hands, you will be on the forested terrace above Sunnyside Bench, a long cliff East of lower Yosemite fall. Follow a user trail which is almost level. Although easy, the first part of this trail is the most dangerous portion of the route, as it traverses steep dirt slopes right above the cliff. Be sure to read the warnings on Tom’s page where one hiker reports that his son would have died if not roped. Please stay on the user trail to minimize meadow damage and do not knock rocks down, as the Sunnyside Bench below is used for rock climbing. Close to the end of the terrace (about a 1/3 of a mile from the tight corner), a short scramble over steep but easy rocks leads you the final slopes, a mix of sandy trail and low-angle slabs.

On that trip, I went with a friend from college who was visiting Yosemite for the first time, but wanted to avoid the crowds. Since I was mostly interested in a back-lit photograph of Upper Yosemite Falls, we started at about 12.30 after a brunch at the Yosemite Lodge. We reached Fern Ledge around 3.00, which was a good timing for that image. However, in retrospect, I think it would have been interesting to start earlier to have more time to linger at the lush suspended meadows above Sunnyside Bench, and arrive in the morning to also see the rainbow in the mist.

Part 2 of 6: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Check out my book: Spectacular Yosemite !

Canon makes two wide-angle zooms for full-frame cameras. Both are L-lenses, reasonably well-built, with fast USM autofocusing, a non-rotating front element, and an environmental rubber seal. The 17-40/f4L was introduced in 2003. The 16-35/f2.8 L II, released in 2007, replaced the 16-35/f2.8L of 2001, which itself replaced the 17-35/f2.8L of 1996. I have not used the 2001 lens, but I can say that both current lenses are a significant improvement over the 1996 lens.

The 16-35/f2.8 is twice the price as the 17-40/f4, and the weight difference, although small, is noticeable on a body such as the Canon 5D. The 16-25/f2.8 also requires uncommon 82mm filters, while the 77mm filters for the 17-40/f4 can be shared with the 24-105, 24-70, 100-400, 70-200/f2.8, amongst others. Is there any benefit, besides the faster maximum aperture, and what is it useful for ?

Based on Imatest testing on a full-frame 5D mk2 (one of the most reliable methods to measure lens performance, see this post for details) both lenses yield comparable image quality, with no lens besting the other consistently across the focal range. Contrarily to what has been reported by others (whom I suspect got sub-par copies of the 17-40) I did not find any definitive advantage for the 16-35. Please note that I have tested 3 different samples of the 16-35, finding the sample-to-sample variation to be, for once, quite small. Full results for focals 17mm, 20mm, 24mm, 28mm, and 35mm are below. Click on any graph to enlarge.

The 16-35 has a slight advantage at short focal lengths, mostly in terms of edge sharpness, while at the longer focal lengths, the 17-40 has a slight advantage. I do not consider those differences to be that significant. Both those lenses yield good center sharpness, but are not so good near the edges, in particular when used at f2.8-f4.

Because in the past I have almost always used the lens stopped down to at least f8 for depth of field and better sharpness, the f2.8 aperture wasn’t that useful for me. Even if what you are after is out-of-focus blur, not much is generated by the additional f-stop, since the focals are so wide. Therefore, I think that for the majority of photographers and situations, the 17-40/f4 will do just as fine.

One specialized situation has came up recently, as I got more interested in night photography with star fields. In photographing stars, one is almost always using the highest acceptable ISO, as stars are faint light sources. Shutter speeds are limited by the movement of the earth. A shutter speed longer than 30s will cause stars to be renders as streaks rather than points. This leaves no choice but using the widest aperture available, and one f-stops makes a big difference here. If point stars are not involved, the 17-40/f4 might otherwise be the better choice for night photography, because its simpler construction make it more resistant to flare.

The results at f2.8 are sufficiently poor to warrant using a fixed focal length instead. I have tested, amongst others, the Canon 24/f1.4 II and the famed Zeiss Distagon 21/f2.8, which are both better at wide apertures, but this will be the subject for a different post. If one is carrying such a lens, the f2.8 aperture of the zoom becomes kind of useless, and therefore the 17-40/f4 would be a better choice.

There are situations (such as backpacking or light travel), where one would not wish to carry a separate lens just for a few night shots. Some photographers also do not want to own several wide-angle lenses. In my opinion, the 16-35/f2.8 is mostly useful for those situations when a single fast and versatile lens is required. In other words, get the 16-35/f2.8 if you plan to shoot wide-open, and it will be your only wide-angle lens, otherwise get the 17-40/f4.

Summary:

	16-35mm f/2.8 II	17-40mm f4
Maximum aperture	f2.8 extra stop mostly useful for night astro photography, brighter view, easier to focus in live view, faster AF	f4.0 adequate for most applications, since lens is likely to be used stopped down for DOF and optical performance
Focal range	16mm slightly, but noticeably shorter than 17mm	35mm-40mm likely covered by other lenses
Close Focus	0.9 ft./0.28m, 0.22x magnification	0.9 ft./0.28m, 0.24x magnification
Sharpness	Slight edge < 24mm, see graphs	Slight edge > 28mm , see graphs
Distortion	16mm: 3% (barrel) 20mm: 0.5% (barrel) 24mm: 0.6% (pincushion) 28mm: 1.2% (pincushion) 35mm: 1.4% (pincushion)	16mm: 2.8% (barrel) 20mm: 1.5% (barrel) 24mm: 0.3% (pincushion) 28mm: 0.5% (pincushion) 35mm: 1.1% (pincushion)
Chromatic Aberation	comparable (0.06/0.05/0.06/0.04/0.02)	comparable (0.06/0.05/0.04/0.03/0.02)
Other		More resistant to flare
Lens construction	16 elements, 12 groups	12 elements, 9 groups
Filter size	82mm	77mm
Size DxL	3.5 x 4.4 in/88 x 111mm	3.3 x 3.8 in/83 x 96mm
Weight	1.4 lb / 635g	1 lb / 475g
Price (08/2010)	$1520 @ BH $1518 @ amazon	$750 @ BH $730 @ amazon

I have been spending quite a bit of time in Yosemite, and posting quite a few images for a project I’ll talk about later. To celebrate its completion, for the rest of the summer, I will be describing a few Yosemite locations that I visited recently. Their common characteristic is that they are out of the beaten path, yet each of them offers truly unique sights. I’ll start with a trilogy of “wilderness hikes” in Yosemite Valley, and then highlight a few high country locations.

Plunging from a cliff west of El Capitan for 1,612 feet (491m), Ribbon Fall is the tallest single-drop waterfall in North America. Yosemite Falls is considered higher (2,425 feet), but it consists of three sections, whereas Ribbon Fall is a continuous waterfall.

Another reason why Ribbon Fall is unique in Yosemite is that it flows into a high amphitheater of vertical cliffs to which you can hike, so that you would be standing right at the base of the fall, looking up directly at the amazing drop, surrounded by rock walls. The depth of the cirque cannot be appreciated from the road.

Hiking there feels almost like a wilderness experience, something so rare in the Valley. For the whole afternoon, I didn’t see anybody there. The rangers told me that there is no trail to the base of Ribbon Fall, so I didn’t look for one, heading straight up the slope on the right bank of Ribbon Creek. As the forest undergrowth is relatively sparse, I didn’t really need to do any bushwhacking, taking maybe two hours to reach the fall. The terrain was quite steep, but not exposed, being located entirely in the forest, with no cliffs. However, on the way down, I found a relatively nice user trail, well marked with cairns. To catch it, park on a pull out off the main loop road, a short distance West of El Capitan Meadow, then walk to the very end of the left (W) branch of the forestry road, and you’ll see a cairn marking the beginning of the trail.

Although it was quite warm in the Valley, I packed a sweatshirt and a light rain jacket, in case of a drop in temperature at the base. This drop was way more than what I expected. It got so cold, wet, and windy that I almost became hypothermic as I was waiting for the wind to blow in a different direction. The constant spray made it difficult to get a sharp image. When the wind would ease a bit, I’d point quickly the camera for a single shot, after which the lens would be soaked. I held as long as I could, more than one hour, then decided to leave the amphitheater when I began to shiver in an uncontrolled way.

If I was to come back, I’d start earlier in the day (the fall is best lit at noon), and pack a mountaineering-grade shell and a fleece jacket. Note that Ribbon Fall is seasonal, like Yosemite Fall, so you’ll probably have to wait until next spring to try this hike.

Part 1 of 6: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Check out my book: Spectacular Yosemite !

More images of Ribbon Fall

Last week, we waded in the water in a Everglades cypress dome. We will continue walking in the water this week, although in a different environment.

The Florida Keys form a chain of barrier islands beginning offshore of Miami, and extending for more than 130 miles to Key West. While almost the entire chain of Key Islands south of Miami is developed and linked by the amazing Overseas Highway, the northernmost of those islands, Elliott Key, has been preserved from development by the establishment of Biscayne National Park. Elliott Key is reached by a daily short cruise starting from the Biscayne National Park visitor center on the mainland.

As a barrier island, Elliott Key separates the Atlantic Ocean from Biscayne Bay. The two shores of Elliott present a drastically different character. While only rugged plants grow on the wave-battered ocean side, the bay side is lined up by the longest mangrove shore on the East Coast.

Even in February – a month with low humidity, heat, and mosquitoes – as I stepped into the water from the landing beach, it felt warm and inviting. The soft sand continued under my feet, even as I turned a corner, and the pier quickly disappeared from view. I could now see an unbroken line of trees with their dark green leaves reaching almost to the water, a sight much more interesting than from the island interior, where the trail was rather unremarkable. The mysterious place reminded me of the jungles seen in old movies. As I got closer, I observed between the water and the leaves an impenetrable tangle of prop roots, arching from the tree’s trunk to the water.

In order to be able to work easily, for a long time, with my full range of equipment, including my large format camera, I had brought a small inflatable boat. It was just the kind used by kids, but it was sufficient to hold my camera bag, providing me a platform from which to switch gear. As I towed it behind me, it glided effortlessly in the calm evening water. The setting sun illuminated the whole bay side shoreline. I set up my tripod in thigh-high water for one last long exposure, the camera just slightly above the water surface, then headed back to the beach around the impenetrable mangrove forest, as the light was fading.

As I retreated to the pleasant, grassy campsite close to the landing, I made sure to rinse thoroughly my carbon fiber tripod with freshwater, since I had been told at the Gitzo factory outside of Paris that my previous one had been ruined by that lack of maintenance. The lights of Miami began to shine across the bay. Yet the silent island felt like a world apart.

View more images of Biscayne National Park

On Saturday, I took a break from my work on Yosemite (more on it latter).

I first headed to 49 Geary, a building near Union Square, where several floors are occupied by world class art galleries, giving you the opportunity to see a variety of art in a single location.

The main draw of the day was a book signing with Michael Kenna at the Stephen Wirtz Gallery, which had also a great exhibition of his work, presenting classic images, as well as new work from Venezia. Book signings are a strange exercise, on both ends of which I’ve been before (although more often on the receiving end), where you are given the opportunity to a conversation of just a few minutes. As some of them have been crowded and rushed affairs, I appreciated the relaxed atmosphere, which let me enjoy an interesting exchange with the legend. By the way, Michael’s Kenna handwriting turned out to be as artistic as his imagery.

Browsing the building, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Modernbook Gallery had just moved there, after ten years on University Ave in Palo Alto. Their owners, Mark and Bryan, are the most friendly, approachable, enthusiastic, generous, and helpful people in the gallery business. Their unexpected move was a great coincidence, as their current exhibition was of Fred Lyon work, who has been photographing the city for 7 decades.

Mark pointed to some other galleries not to be missed. Amongst them was an exhibition of Miroslav Tichy at Robert Koch Gallery. I had been intrigued by his story for a while. Using cameras he made himself from recycled garbage, with lenses of plexiglas, for decades, the eccentric and mysterious Tichy wandered every day the streets of his hometown of Kyjov photographing women surreptitiously. While I could appreciate the uniqueness of the story, as well as the “contemporaneity” of the blurred and off-kilter one-of-the kind tiny prints, I must admit that after looking at the work in person, I came away slightly perplexed by his meteoric rise in the art world, as an 80 year-old reclusive. That is, until I found, the next day, this article (in French, although with an English abstract) L’ Invention de Miroslav Tichy.

I then headed towards the Cliff House, site of a “Photo Walk” lead by Jim Goldstein ( see his photos). It took place at the Sutro Baths, a remarkable meeting of man-made and natural environments at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Although it was one of those foggy evenings that must have inspired Mark Twain’s saying “The coldest winter of my life was a summer in San Francisco”, there was quite a bit to photograph. While normally I prefer to work alone, I was pleased to see several friends there, and had mostly a good time catching up with them. I actually liked to see photographers crawling all over the place. I even made … a few photographs ! To stay with that day’s mood, I am presenting two of them as a modest homage to Michael Kenna. I’ll let you guess about the third one.

On my first visit to Everglades National Park, I focused on the wildlife, the wading birds and alligators. Nowhere else in North America are the birds that diverse, abundant and easy to observe and photograph along one of the parks famous boardwalk trails.

The scenery at first appeared flat and monotonous, so I was content to find a few locations over water to photographs sunrises and sunset. However, as I took the more careful perspective of a landscape photographer, I recognized a variety of ecosystems that includes marshes, sawgrass prairies, pine forests, tropical hammocks, mangrove swamps, coastal beaches, and cypress domes. In this post, I will concentrate on the latter, since I believe that they offer one of the most unusual experiences in the National Parks, yet one which is accessible to almost everybody.

I first walked up the Pa-hay-okee observation tower to survey the swamp. Cypress are one of the most unique trees in the South, as they grow out of the water, forming swamp forests, called “cypress dome”. The term, “cypress dome” refers to the phenomenon that the larger cypress grow in the middle of the dome, and then get progressively smaller as one goes out from the center. The conditions for growth are more favorable in the center as opposed to the edges. Pa-hay-okee is the area of the park where many of the cypress domes grow.

Next, I picked up at random a nearby cypress dome, and parked on the side of the road at an unmarked spot. From a distance, the cypress dome looked like regular woods. As I stepped tentatively into the water of the “river of grass”, wearing long pants against the sharp blades of the appropriately named sawgrass, I was surprised to feel a solid ground underneath my feet, instead the mud I was expecting. I was walking directly on the hard underlying limestone bedrock of the Everglades, although I couldn’t see my feet through the dark water.

After a few hundred yards, as I began to get used to this strange feeling of “wet hiking”, I walked with more confidence. By that time, the road was no longer in sight. Instead, I was surrounded by a dense cypress forest rising from black water. As it was winter, the branches were bare of leaves, yet the trees were covered with bromeliads and orchids. Such a beauty and lushness just couldn’t have been anticipated from outside the dome. Although it has been only a short time, I felt like I was the only human being to have ever set foot on that primeval patch of water-covered ground.

Working from a shoulder bag, I set up my tripod in the water and began photographing. The overcast morning that I chose provided even illumination in the swamp, but I was careful not to include the overly bright sky in the images.

Everglades National Park is best enjoyed during the dry season, in winter. Although summer brings out dramatic thunderstorms clouds, the high temperatures, humidity, and mosquitoes make it uncomfortable. If you are hesitant to venture by yourself into the swamp, the rangers organize regularly guided walks. Do not miss such a unique experience, hidden to most visitors, although so close !

View all images of Everglades National Park
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The Appalachians, largest mountain range in the Eastern US, culminates at its southern end in North Carolina and Tennessee. Those two states split Great Smoky Mountains National Park, which preserves one of the finest virgin deciduous forest in the world.

The top of Clingsman’s Dome is the highest point in the Park, at 6,643 ft (2,025 m). The only (slightly) taller mountain East of the Mississippi is Mount Mitchell 6,684 ft (2,037 m), northeast of Ashville, NC. Clingman’s Dome is extremely easy to access, as a 7-mile spur road, branching from the Newfound Gap Road, leads to a large parking lot near the top, from which the best photography spots are found.

From the peak, located almost at the center of the park, I found large gaps between trees – just at the edge of the parking lot – that framed great views over forested ridges, extending to the horizon. The Great Smokies were named for the fog that often hangs over the range. This fog is the result of warm humid air from the Gulf of Mexico cooling rapidly in the higher elevations of Southern Appalachia. It made the views more special by allowing me to create compositions with layers of ridges fading in the distance. Their progressively lighter tones provides the strong three-dimensional clue named “aerial perspective”, first used in paintings from the Netherlands in the 15th century, and then in the Mona Lisa.

The light is fine both at sunrise and sunset. At sunrise, I prefer to set-up the camera at the east end of the parking lot, while I find the west end preferable for sunset. I walked once to the top of observation tower, through a half-mile paved trail, but the view from the rounded summit wasn’t as interesting, that is unless one is interested in surveying dead trees.

Fog is more likely to be found in the morning. I set up my alarm one hour and half before sunrise. It took more than half an hour to drive there from the campground (same as from Gatlinburg). In the spring and fall, the temperature on the top often drops below freezing at night. I noticed icicles forming where streams drop onto the road Clingman’s Dome road. Arriving at the top 40 minutes before sunrise, as I stepped out of the car, I was greeted by temperatures much colder than at the campground. However, there was no temptation to retreat into the car, as an intense orange glow lit the eastern horizon, contrasting with the blue ridges. Since those ridges were backlit and quite darker than the sky, I used a graduated neutral filter to keep the contrast in check. After the sun came and illuminated the entire landscape, I switched to a wider lens, including foreground trees into my compositions. Although the sun got higher in the sky, I was still shivering from standing for a prolonged time in the cold, although by the time I drove down, the icicles had started to collapse.

Great Smoky Mountains it the most visited of all National Parks, so summer crowds can jam the roads, although it is usually pretty quiet before sunrise. Spring sees less visitation and a variety of blooms. With all this variety of deciduous trees, autumn offers a spectacular sea of colors which in general peak at mid-October at the higher elevations. However, I prefer to photograph the colors from the Newfound Gap road, where closer trees in fall foliage provide a more harmonious foreground. The Clingsman’s Dome road is closed in winter and doesn’t re-open until April.

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View more images taken from Clingman’s Dome