Eureka Dunes, Death Valley Trip Report

The suspension on my wife's VW Jetta was getting a real stress test as I bouncing through brain-jarring wash board on Eureka Valley road in Death Valley National Park. The rocky ten mile long track is known for shredding tires and is probably best suited to 4x4 trucks. I'll probably be in trouble when she reads this, because before leaving I had promised I wouldn't leave the pavement.

On my previous four wildflower photo trips to Death Valley I had been skunked by drought conditions, and the timing of infrequent storms did not produce good results. My expectations were probably unrealistically high considering that the first two visits to the park were in 1998, and 2005, both of which were "once in a lifetime" El Nino blooms. So when I saw a friend's photos online I knew I had to act immediately. Like a California ice climber, the photographer's best piece of equipment is a fast car. The blooms are ephemeral and won't wait for late comers.

Eureka Dunes, one of the largest in the US, is in the remote northern section of Death Valley and best accessed from Big Pine in the Owens Valley. The drive from where I live in Sonoma County is about ten hours and I only about 36 hours to get there and back. I loaded the car friday evening and left the house first thing Saturday with wife and dog in tow. We had to drop off some prints at Mountain Light Gallery in Bishop, so did that and got a hotel Saturday night. The next morning I got up early and drove alone out to the dunes while Arienne caught up on sleep. I'd only have a couple hours to make images.

The sunrise came and went as I bounced along the road at an agonizingly slow pace. Ga-dunk, ga-dunk, ga-dunk! The drive was tedious but when the fields of flowers began appearing around me I knew it was worthwhile. The desert was alive!

Fortunately there was some cloud cover, so the sun didn't just glare into the scene with a bald sky. This gave some precious time to find a few nice landscapes where the plant densities were most concentrated, and I knew there would be time to shoot closeups after the clouds blew over.

I was frantically wandering around vast fields of flowers, with stunning beauty in every direction. While this may sound blissful, it actually caused a fair a bit of stress because I was short on time and the light was changing fast. I had to tear myself away from some beautiful scenes because it just wasn't possible to take every shot. All too soon the time was up.

The drive back on the terrible road seemed to take even longer now, because I was running late. Finally I hit the pavement and hauled ass back up over the pass, enjoying a magnificent view of the Palisades and Sierra Crest as I sped toward home. This was my first trip to this part of Death Valley and I'm sure I'll be back to spend more time at a less hurried pace.

-Jerry Dodrill

Red Tide

A few weeks ago I was driving up the grade on Highway 1 north of Jenner on the Sonoma Coast. Just before dropping down toward Fort Ross the morning fog broke away and I was aghast at the sight of the ocean. It looked like a biblical prophecy had been fulfilled; the water had turned to blood.

At the first chance I swerved into a pull out and got out the camera. Was it a major oil spill like the Deepwater Horizon? No, it was the most extensive red tide ever seen on the Sonoma Coast, and its effect on the salt water ecosystem has been devestating. 

A red tide is a harmful algal bloom of dinoflagellate plankton that occurs when ocean conditions are warm and calm. It can contain a neurotoxin that poisons, suffocates and kills shell fish. This same little plankton also causes a wonderful display of bioluminescence that I photographed last november. While red tides are not uncommon, some sources suggest that this year's El Nino event, warming sea water temperatures, fertilizers, and pollution may have contributed to severity of the current event.  

Within a week vast numbers of red abalone, mussels, sea urchins, sea stars and other invertebrates began washing up on Sonoma County shorelines. The major die-off is like nothing ever seen here and yesterday prompted the California Department of Fish and Game to enact an emergency action to close the 2011 abalone fishing season. 

 

Yesterday, September 15, I returned to Salt Point State Park, and walked cove after cove of rugged shoreline. Normally I am excited to find a single perfectly shaped shell on the beach, but there is no joy in discovering large mounds of skeletons - the bones of our delicate oceanic neighbors. 

For more information visit the Department of Fish and Game website.
© 2011 Jerry Dodrill Photography

Autumn in The Valley

Where has the summer gone? Autumn leaves are falling, and what better than a rainy day with a fire burning in the fireplace to catch up on things. Here are some images from the most recent of many excursions over the last few months.

This past week I had the good fortune to watch the turning of the fall colors in Yosemite Valley while teaching a photography course for Elderhostel. When I drove in on Saturday the dogwood trees were bright red, maples yellow, and oaks gold.



Milkweed Eruption, Cooks Meadow


Smoky God Beams near Wawona





Sunrise, El Cap Meadow


Maple, Merced River Canyon




Trippy Autumn Reflection

Majestic Oaks



River Sunrise and color in El Cap Meadow.


The class went well and everyone was excited. As we broke after the final meeting, a great gust of wind blasted the Valley. In ten minutes the Autumn Glory was blown to pieces. Drifts of brightly colored leaves covered the ground, pine needles piled up on the road, and the first winter rain began to fall as I drove home. A perfect week.

Join me for a photo workshop in 2009! May in India, June at Lake Tahoe and October back in Yosemite! More dates announced shortly.

-Jerry
http://www.jerrydodrill.com

Sonora Pass Wildflowers

Arienne and I just got back from a quick trip up Sonora Pass. Thought I'd post a couple photos of the outrageous wildflower display before heading out again to spend a few days in the high country at Thousand Island Lake with my old friend Jared Chaney. Stay tuned next week for a report from that trip. Hopefully we'll get some nice photos and catch big trout!
Until then...
...Motivate. Instigate.

-Jerry

http://www.jerrydodrill.com
© 2008 Jerry Dodrill

Tahoe Workshop Trip Report

Five days seemed like an eternity to spend with ten strangers. How would I keep everyone focused? What would they be like? Where would we go for our field shoots? Would the light work out? I'd done my prep work, but still felt the anxiety of anticipation. If I were climbing, I’d have stopped to shake out, focused on breathing, smiled, and put my head back together. But I wasn’t climbing, I was preparing to teach a photography workshop in Incline Village at Lake Tahoe’s Sierra Nevada College.
The jitters of the first day quickly subsided and the group settled into a nice groove. After orientation and introductions, we had a couple lectures, and the first of many delicious lunches in the cafeteria. By late afternoon we were in the field photographing near Sand Harbor. Next morning we were up early to shoot sunrise along the north Shore. Group dynamics are always an interesting part of the workshop experience. You want a mix of women and men, ages, and experience levels, and a healthy sense of humor. This class certainly had that. Of the ten participants, four were women, and there were four climbers. This was great and added an instant sense of brotherhood to the group. The age range varied nicely, with the youngest being seventeen. Of all the workshops I've done over the years, the energy of this group was among the best I've seen. With fifteen hours of sunlight, it quickly became apparent that sleep deprivation would be part of the program. The sun set at about eight thirty and rose at five. We were out late at night, up and out the door again by four or four thirty each morning. My philosophy for field sessions is to put people on location at the right place and right time so they have the opportunity to make exceptional photographs. I try to be available to help folks with their gear and equipment, answer questions, creative advice, and offer one-on-one time as participants work. I roam the area seeing if anyone needs help, but of course, also want to make some great images and feel obliged to bring quality work back to the critiques. So as the light begins to peak I’m often running from one location to the next, trying to bag my shots.
After our morning shoots we ate breakfast, downloaded and edited our photos and prepared for critique. The critiques are probably the most important part of a workshop. It is here that what we discuss in lectures, see in the field, and capture in-camera all come together to be evaluated. There are always amazing and unexpected images. You can put folks together at the same place in the field but will never see two images alike. In evaluations, people always say that they learned the most from critique, not just of their own images, but in observing and participating in the critique of what everyone else did as well.
When I was in college I was often frustrated by some of the soft-ball critiques art teachers would give to work that was obviously crap. Then, while working with Galen, I saw a whole different method. In his workshop critiques, he was always encouraging, never cruel, but dead honest in evaluating images. He would focus on the potential that an image had to become a finished piece. In this way, he found a positive way to give a tough critique that would inspire rather than intimidate a young photographer.
As we got deeper into the workshop, the participants really hit their artistic stride and the quality of their work increased with each critique. We all got accustomed to working creatively on limited sleep.
One direction I’ve been pushing is digital storytelling, and how we use photography as part of the way we tell stories and document our lives. So as the end of the workshop neared, we each worked on a final assignment to tell a story in pictures. I wasn’t sure how this would work, but with the mounting pressure of final critique, everyone went deep into the “zone” and came out with amazing projects. (I'll have to post some of those at a later date). All too soon, the class was over. Someone produced a case of Fat Tire (thanks Carol!), we toasted our new friends and parted, each in our separate ways. Over the five days we had a profoundly bonding creative experience. I want to thank all of the participants for a great workshop. I hope to see you again some day and will always cherish the time we shared chasing light on the shores of Lake Tahoe.
-Jerry Dodrill
http://www.jerrydodrill.com