Tag: geological wonders

Desert Vigil: Creosote and Brittlebush Against Valley of Fire’s Red Backdrop Picture of the Week - Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada

Creosote and Brittlebush dotting the red desert landscape of Valley of Fire State Park under a clear blue sky
Desert Vigil: Creosote and Brittlebush Against Valley of Fire’s Red Backdrop – An array of creosote bushes and brittlebushes spread across the red sandy floor of Nevada’s Valley of Fire State Park, standing resilient under the vast blue sky.

Welcome back to the grand finale of our Valley of Fire State Park extravaganza. This week, we’re taking a stroll through the park’s living tapestry, where life’s tenacity is as clear as the desert sky. If you’re like us, you’ll never see any of the animals on the brochures, except maybe a big-eyed rabid chipmunk with its hand out begging, “M&Ms for my baby.” Usually, the daytime has too much traffic and noise for wild animals, so if you’re hunting for a game, grab a campsite or come early and stay late.

Valley of Fire, renowned for its blazing sandstone formations, is also a sanctuary for various desert flora and fauna. Amidst the rugged terrain, the creosote bush reigns supreme; its waxy leaves a testament to its survival prowess in the harsh climate. Accompanying it is the brittlebush, its silver-gray foliage contrasting starkly with the red sand beneath. These two species flourish in the Nevada desert; they show off with yellow flowers in spring.

Wildlife enthusiasts might try to glimpse the desert bighorn sheep, masters of rocky terrains and cliffs. They usually hang out on ridgelines and cliff faces but come down for water in the mornings and at day’s end. The park is also home to the clever kit fox, the industrious black-tailed jackrabbit, and the elusive coyote, each playing their part in the desert’s symphony.

Photographic Pursuits Amongst the Desert Blooms

As a photographer, capturing the essence of this diverse ecosystem is both a challenge and a delight. The dance of light and shadow across the landscape breathes life into each image, from the delicate interplay of creosote branches to the fleeting moments of a bighorn sheep in motion if you’re ready with your long lens.

The park’s biodiversity extends beyond the reach of my lens, inviting visitors to look closer and discover the beauty in the details—the pattern of a lizard’s skin, the flight of a raven, or the vibrant hues of wildflowers that defy the desert’s aridity.

Red sandstone rock formation known as Red Turret amid desert shrubs in Valley of Fire State Park
Sentry of the Desert: The Red Turret’s Silent Watch in Valley of Fire – Amidst the sea of creosote and brittlebush, the Red Turret rises as a natural monument within Valley of Fire, echoing eons of geological artistry.

Beyond the Jackpot: Valley of Fire’s Call

So, next time you find yourself in Nevada, yearning to escape the neon lights, remember that just a stone’s throw from the buzz of Vegas lies a world abounding with natural wonders. Valley of Fire State Park offers a chance to reconnect with nature and experience Nevada’s quieter yet equally thrilling side.

Pack your hiking boots, bring your sense of wonder, and don’t forget your camera. The park’s trails await, ready to reveal the secrets of the desert. It’s an experience that promises to be as rewarding as any jackpot—perhaps even more so.

I have uploaded a larger version of this week’s featured image. You can see them on my website using this link < Jim’s Web> and on my Fine Art America Page by clicking here <FAA Page>. I hope you enjoy seeing them.

Next week, we begin a new project, and this time, it’s not a place but an event that motivated me to grab my camera and get out of the house.
Until our next adventure, may your curiosity be as endless as the desert skies and your spirit as resilient as the flora and fauna that grace this fiery valley.

Keep exploring, keep laughing.
jw

Techniques: Capturing the Desert’s Essence

This week, let’s discuss capturing the subtle textures of the desert. I focused on the interplay of textures and colors when photographing the resilient creosote and brittlebush against the sandstone backdrop. The key is to find the right angle where the light enriches the colors without overpowering the delicate details of the plants.

In post-processing, I often use selective adjustments to enhance the flora’s vibrancy without losing the terrain’s natural ruggedness. If you get carried away with the adjustment sliders, you can overwhelm the subtle plant colors with too much contrast and saturation. It’s a delicate balance that, when struck, transforms a photograph into a window into the soul of the desert.

Sculpted by Time: Whitney Pocket’s Sandstone Wonders Picture of the Week - Mesquite, Nevada

White sandstone rock formation at Whitney Pocket, similar to Zion National Park, in the Gold Butte area of Nevada.
Sculpted by Time: Whitney Pocket’s Sandstone Wonders – Amidst the rugged beauty of Whitney Pocket, this layered sandstone formation stands as a silent witness to the artful touch of natural forces, its contours and colors a desert echo of the famed cliffs of Zion.

Before we even packed the Turd for our Nevada trip, I studied all of the Whitney Pocket YouTube videos I could find like they were a final exam. Packing the Turd for the trip felt a bit like preparing a stubborn mule for a mountain trek—full of hope but expecting surprises. When the morning of our exciting adventure finally came, I had my checklist ready. After a hardy breakfast at Peggy Sue’s Diner, we topped off the gas tank and checked the tires. Part of these exercises was taking precautions and waiting for the visitor’s center to open so that we could buy maps and get free first-hand advice.

The people who answered our questions and the Friends of Gold Butte group volunteers were constructive. With a lack of park rangers, they’ve stepped in to fill that role. After reassurance that my SUV would be capable of the drive, the guide offered one last bit of advice. “Be sure to tell someone where you’re going and when you expect to be back. No cell phone coverage exists, and you could be alone out there.” Anne and I glanced at each other, wondering who we could call—we were alone in Mesquite and didn’t know anyone in town. We decided to call her sister—Jane— in North Carolina and panic her, “If you don’t hear from us by 6:00 pm, call the police.”

After the long drive on the awful road I complained about last week, we made it to the end of the pavement—Whitney Pocket. When I first got out of the truck, I felt disappointed. With our backs to Virgin Peak, we scanned the southern horizon, which went on forever in the clear, dry Mohave Desert air. Except for a few lumps of sandstone close by, there was just a sea of yucca and creosote running endlessly downhill to a thin line of blue, which we identified as Lake Mead. Where were all the majestic sandstone formations in the videos I watched?

We were here, and I would make the best of it. Our map showed a petroglyph site three miles down a side road that we passed, so I drove a quarter mile back and started down what I jokingly call a road. The road was passable, but only if I kept the speed under ten mph. The Turd’s front sub-chassis sounded like it was about to fall off as we dodged the football-sized pavement rocks. In comparison, the entrance road was a freshly paved Interstate.

As promised, there was a parking area with a kiosk and pictures at the three-mile mark. Go to the right and see the Falling Man petroglyph, but there would be a large panel of petroglyphs if I went in the other direction. The guide told us that the Falling Man was a longer hike and tricky to find, so I set off toward the easy shot while Anne and her Kindel kept each other company.

After a half hour of scouring the rocks for rock art, I realized I had missed the trail, was lost, and needed to find my way back to the truck. The trail had been pronounced, so I don’t know how I messed up. I started the hike back using my old tried and true method: ” This looks familiar.” I noticed the rock colors and layers as I searched for the trail. They’re more subtle and muted than you find in Bryce or Zion—almost a pastel quality. Then, I crossed over the surface stone patch and found my trail. I stopped, looked around, and discovered that the trail zigged right while I went left. Ah, the old let’s lose the geezer on the hardscrabble trick.

Water or ice erosion exposing red sandstone layers beneath the surface in Whitney Pocket, Gold Butte area.
The Art of Erosion: Exposing Whitney Pocket’s Hidden Hues – Nature’s artistry on display: The intricate dance of erosion carves through time, uncovering the fiery red heart of sandstone beneath the desert’s sunlit canvas.

Now that I was un-lost, I started taking pictures of the stones and capturing the muted colors washed out with the early afternoon sun. My trip back to Anne and the truck was more deliberate as I spent more time shooting and exploring along the way. As we drove away on the rock road, I turned to Anne and said, “I don’t think we should risk running the Turd down these roads until we get new shoes for him.” Anne’s ‘Oh, thank God’ was laced with so much relief that I suspected she might start a Thanksgiving parade there.

While the grand formations played hide and seek with our expectations, the true majesty of Whitney Pocket revealed itself in a serendipitous encounter. This week’s photo—Sculpted by Time—captures a lone formation made from the same limestone that capped Virgin Peak (last week’s shot), one that almost seemed to beckon for attention amidst the vast desert. Its white, streaked face looks unremarkable at first, but if you look closely at the lower-right corner of the image, you’ll see a joint (not that kind, you stoners). This is where a layer of the Navajo Sandstone is popping its head from the ground. These are the same petrified dunes seen in Zion National Park, and we showed you in Utah’s Snow Canyon State Park last year. This shot was a dance of light and texture, a moment where time stood still, and the story of the earth was told in a single frame of layered rock.

Here is evidence of rising ancient seas and covering the dunes up. Over eons, the skeletons of shellfish collected on the seabed and covered the dunes with a layer of their own. I think that’s cool, not to mention that I like the natural window in the upper center, too.

Next week, we’ll return to Whitney Pocket, but our focus will shift to the ‘Dance of Light and Shadow’ this time. We’ll explore how the changing sunlight angles transform the sandstone from mere rocks into a canvas of nature’s art. Expect tales of how the sun brings out different personalities in the stones. If you’d like to examine the rock layering closer, you can stop by my Web Page < Jim’s Page> or my post on Fine Art America <FAA Link>.

Till then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

Erosion and Elevation: Arizona’s Basalt Playground Picture of the Week - Wikieup, Arizona

A sun-kissed Arizona landscape showcasing erosion patterns on basalt rock formations, a tear in the earth, and desert flora like Palo Verde and Saguaro.
Erosion and Elevation: Arizona’s Basalt Playground – This striking photograph captures the complex topography along Arizona’s US 93. Late afternoon light bathes a basalt outcrop and highlights the intricate erosion patterns, casting dramatic shadows across the earth. A tear-like ravine carves through the landscape, bordered by softly rolling hills and rugged cliffs. The terrain is dotted with native flora, such as Palo Verde trees and Saguaro cacti. Above this awe-inspiring scene, cumulus clouds meander across the sky, echoing the earth’s undulating forms.

Well, folks, it’s week two of our September golden hour stint along good ol’ US 93. Last week, we dabbled in the architectural nuances of silt cliffs—kind of like the Las Vegas Strip but without the neon lights or questionable life choices. Today, we clambered back into the truck, waved hasta la vista to the Big Sandy River, and headed south like snowbirds in reverse. After scaling what can only be described as a geographical hiccup of a hill, we’re greeted by the brooding spectacle of a lava dome. Not the explosive kind, mind you. This one’s been dormant long enough to warrant a picture.

This is one of those places that has escaped my camera for decades because I had been rushing to somewhere else, the light wasn’t right, or the ‘T’ on my typewriter sticks. Pick any excuse; it doesn’t matter. The truth is that I never made myself stop until this afternoon’s trip.

Have you ever driven on US 95 toward Goldfield, Nevada, and thought, “Gee, what this place needs is more cactus”? Well, welcome to Arizona’s answer. Trading Nevada’s coarse, scratchy sagebrush for a verdant army of Palo Verde and Saguaro cacti is far from the barrenness one might expect—like trading in a Ford Pinto for a Mustang.

Don’t be fooled by the lush desert life clinging to these hills. Forget garden-variety potting soil; what you’re laying eyes on is rugged, unyielding basalt—nature’s bedrock. Yep, volcanic rock is hard enough to make diamonds jealous. Another meandering mile down the asphalt ribbon, and we’ll find ourselves hovering on a bridge over a canyon so deep, it could swallow a 30-story building, where Burro Creek has sliced the basalt like it’s a hot knife through…well, rock. Nature’s got its own set of carving tools. It’s such a pretty place that you may want to spend a night in the campground at the bottom, where the song of the semis pounding on the bridge’s expansion joints will lull you into a deep sleep—or give you a headache.

Today’s photography menu featured a main course of Golden Hour light, served up like liquid gold spilling across the jagged landscape, and boy, did it deliver. This week’s photo offers a unique lens into Arizona’s oversized playground. You look at the flora covering these slopes and think, “Ah, a lush, manicured lawn.” But no, that’s not grass. It’s full-sized saguaro and palo verde trees, so don’t go planning a picnic.

What’s more, the distribution of the saguaro says a lot. They’re abundant on this ravine side but scarce on the far side. This is where an imaginary frost line is. That’s Mother Nature’s version of police tape preventing the saguaros from marching north and overrunning Reno. This line in the sand is the boundary between the Sonoran and Great Basin deserts.

Alright, time to hightail it back to the trusty truck; ominous storm clouds are massing in the southern sky, ready to let loose with a downpour. Before you know it, we’ll navigate a basalt slip ‘n slide. Please take a moment to check out larger versions of this week’s photo—Erosion and Elevation—on my website (Jim’s Site) and Fine Art America (FAA Page). Be sure to tune in next week; who knows what wonders—or calamities—we’ll encounter next.

Till next time
jw

Techniques: The Rule of Thirds and the Quest for Visual Balance

The Rule of Thirds is a fundamental principle in photography and art, but its origins are a bit murky. Some trace it back to John Thomas Smith’s 1797 book “Remarks on Rural Scenery,” while others connect it to broader theories of divine proportions. Regardless of its origins, the idea is simple: divide your frame into a 3×3 grid and position the subject or critical elements along those lines or at their intersections. Doing so generally leads to more dynamic, balanced compositions that are more engaging to the viewer.

In this week’s photograph, the basalt butte is a textbook example of the Rule of Thirds in action. It straddles the right vertical line, grounding the image, while its peak touches the lower horizontal line. This positioning does more than “look good”—it directs the viewer’s eyes around the frame in a natural progression, from the butte upward to the cloud lines.

Moreover, using the Rule of Thirds for the butte leaves space for the towering clouds overhead, which adds drama and scale to the photograph. This mirrors the real-life experience of being dwarfed by nature’s grandiosity. It also serves a practical purpose—making room for those clouds allows them to act as another compositional element, filling the frame without crowding it.

The Rule of Thirds isn’t an ironclad law—sometimes breaking it produces strikingly original work—but it’s useful for photographers looking to up their compositional game. Understanding and utilizing the Rule of Thirds can transform a ‘pretty view’ into a compelling visual narrative for a landscape photographer like myself.

Shadows and Spires: An Afternoon on Big Sandy River Picture of the Week - Wikieup, Arizona

Two sedimentary cliff prominence eroded to form preliminary hoodoos, captured during the golden hour near Big Sandy River, Arizona.
Shadows and Spires: An Afternoon on Big Sandy River – Captured during the golden hour, these eroding cliffs along the Big Sandy River reveal nature’s ceaseless artistry. With preliminary hoodoos and soft evening light, it’s a visual spectacle that evokes the grandeur of Bryce Canyon on a smaller scale.

Have you ever heard the saying, “Necessity is the mother of invention?” Let me tweak that: “Frustration is the father of discovery.” A couple of weeks ago, Queen Anne and I were on a quest to pick up her “new-to-us” car from Henderson, Nevada. Ah, the optimism. The plan was simple: drive up, sign paperwork, and zoom back to Congress. We were convinced we’d be home by 3:00. But reality had other plans: car dealerships—the black holes where time and patience vanish. So, our speedy mission morphed into an all-day ordeal, and instead of a quick casino lunch, we settled for an early Mexican dinner in Kingman.

Life’s little curveballs aren’t all bad. The Universe threw us a photographic bone: we were heading back during the golden hour. Of course, I’d left my camera back at the ranch. Insert a string of inventive curses here. Cut to a few days later, and I’m driving that route again, camera in hand and tank full of liquid gold, catching that magical golden hour. Trust me, the encore was worth every cent and expletive.

Situated just a stone’s throw south of Wikieup—Arizona’s self-proclaimed ‘Rattlesnake Capital’—we stumble upon an intriguing spectacle: silt cliffs carved by nature’s endless waltz of wind and water. But the real artist here? The Big Sandy River has been doing its chisel work for millennia, crafting an earthen canvas rich with geological stories. The formations boast early signs of hoodoo development, but erosion’s speedy pace keeps them from becoming full-fledged, free-standing wonders. Think of them as Bryce Canyon’s more humble cousins.

Veteran followers might recall a rookie error I made some years back: driving out here in the dead of night to shoot these west-facing cliffs at sunrise. Yeah, not my brightest moment. But this time, bathed in a warm honeyed glow, these cliffs were showing off for my camera. The low sun cast deep shadows, revealing the intricacies of erosion and the potential of fledgling hoodoos—sort of like teenagers eager to bust out on a Friday night.

Thanks for tagging along on this picturesque journey through Arizona’s road to Sin City—remarkable US 93. This highway, often buzzing with travelers darting between Phoenix and Las Vegas, has hidden gems that’ll soon vanish as Interstate 11 takes over. So catch these scenes while you can! For a high-definition experience, check out the larger version on my website (Jim’s) or peruse it on my Fine Art America page (FAA Page). And join us next week, where we’ll explore another sun-kissed snapshot from the drive on US 93 (boy, wouldn’t ‘drive on 95’ have rhymed so much better?).

Until next time
jw

Techniques: The Art of Capturing the Golden Hour

Ah, the golden hour—nature’s very own Instagram filter. This fleeting window right after dawn or before dusk can magically transform even the most drab scene into a masterpiece. Unlike the harsh glare of the midday sun, the golden hour bathes everything in a soft, ethereal light. It’s like Photoshop, but Mother Nature is at the helm.

Wake up early or set an alarm for the evening. Please make sure you’re in position well before the golden hour begins because, let me tell you, this light waits for no one. I’ve made that mistake before, and it was as frustrating as finding a rattlesnake in my boot.

Personal Note: On our Alaska expedition, I discovered that as you venture away from the equator, the golden hour stretches, much like a cat in a sunbeam. That hour of perfect light can become two during summer, and it’s an all-day thing north of the Canadian border in winter. However, it’s over in the blink of an eye in the arid southwest deserts, as if someone flipped off a celestial switch. Timing and location can throw some delicious curveballs into your golden hour captures, so be prepared.

And remember, while nature’s giving you a fantastic light show, your camera still needs some fine-tuning. Since the light is dimmer than mid-day, tripods can help stabilize long exposures, and a wider aperture can draw focus to your main subject. So, pack wisely, set up carefully, and prepare to create magic.

The Dells’ Drama: Light, Shadow, and Stone Picture of the Week - Prescott, Arizona

A sunlit canyon at Granite Dells with angular rock formations, highlighted by shadows and a blue sky backdrop.
The Dells’ Drama: Light, Shadow, and Stone – On the Constellation Trail at Granite Dells, angular lines of sunlit rock formations converge, telling tales of erosion and time. Amidst the rugged terrain, trees rise, contrasting against the textured granite, all under a vast blue Arizona sky.

Thanks for joining us on the Constellation Trail in the Granite Dells this morning. Of all the paths I’ve dared to tread, the Constellation Trail welcomes both the adventurous explorer and those of us who occasionally confuse a hiking boot with something you’d wear to a dinner party. Located off Arizona Route 89, it’s a sizeable, well-marked loop with several cross trails that make it easy to tailor your hike to your abilities. As you know, I’m not too fond of physical exercise, but I know that my best photos come from getting out of my truck, and once I’m out in nature, my senses become heightened. Last week’s photo showed an example of the views you can see along the trail’s high points, while this week, we explored the shadows on canyon walls where the trail cuts through the Dells’ ravines.

In the heart of the Granite Dells, life thrives against all odds. Amidst ancient boulders that are silent witnesses to millennia gone by, scrub oak and sumac tell a tale of nature’s indomitable spirit. They’ve evolved to survive and flourish, sipping sustenance from the unforgiving granite, striking poses of raw, untamed beauty against a backdrop that laughs in the face of gentleness. As the morning sun casts the canyon in a gentle glow, their silhouettes emerge sharper, paying tribute to nature’s ability to find pockets of life even in the most challenging environments.

Interestingly, the Granite Dells aren’t just a feast for the eyes but a geologic wonder. Estimated to be around 1.4 billion years old, these ancient formations are composed of a type of rock known as Precambrian granite. What you see on the surface only scratches the surface of their actual complexity. These stones have witnessed countless eras, weathered innumerable storms, and survived the ever-changing dance of geological forces. As a photographer, capturing these ageless guardians feels like stepping into a time machine, where every click of the shutter connects you with a history that transcends human comprehension. While the vibrant hues and shadows make for stunning imagery, the timeless wisdom in these stones adds an ineffable quality to the photographs. That’s the unseen charm of the Granite Dells, a joy that plays hide-and-seek with your senses and challenges you to see beyond the obvious.

The path lured me to a breathtaking cataract surrounded by boulders that must have been hand-placed by giants. Navigating through the canyon was as easy as following a breadcrumb trail—if the breadcrumbs were the size of small cars and strewn by a mythical creature with a flair for drama. Surprisingly, navigating through the canyon wasn’t challenging, thanks to the downward trail. I found the perfect vantage point on a ledge after clearing the gorge. From there, the sunlight playing on the rocks created an arresting visual that resembled a mighty fist. I had toyed with the title “Pow” but felt The Dells’ Drama: Light, Shadow, and Stone captured the essence far better.

I have posted two larger versions of this image for your enjoyment. The first is on my Website, of course, and you can see it by following this link (Jim’s Weblink); the other option is the page I made on my Fine Art America page, and the easiest way for you to get there is via this link (FAA link). Each click will transport you deeper into the heart of the Dells’ magic. Queen Anne and I want to thank you for stopping by this week. If we’ve piqued your interest, tune in next Sunday. We’ll uncover more mysteries of the trail, provided I don’t get lost or distracted by something shiny.

Till next time
jw

Technique: Saturation as a Photographer’s Opioid

In photography, playing with saturation is like walking a tightrope – thrilling, daring, and slightly less likely to end in a dramatic tumble. When applied with precision, it can elevate an image, adding depth and vibrancy. Yet, the temptation to overindulge can be difficult. Excessive saturation risks rendering photographs unnatural, pushing them into the realm of ‘Disney-chrome’—a world where colors are too intense to be accurate. This impacts the aesthetic appeal and can be problematic when printing. Over-saturated photos, significantly beyond a medium’s color gamut, lose their subtle gradations, often resulting in blotchy areas that mar the final product, like a print or book.

Hue and Saturation Pallet with this Photoshop tool, you can add saturation to a photo until it had day-glow colors, or you can remove the color to make the image pastel or even black and white.
Hue and Saturation Pallet With this Photoshop tool, you can add saturation to a photo until it has day-glow colors, or you can remove the color to make the image pastel or even black and white.

For the photography enthusiasts, here’s a peek behind the curtain: When tweaking the saturation in this week’s photograph, I worked with values that might seem conservative to some. The overall saturation was subtly lifted to a value of +5, while the green hues were enhanced a second time using a slider value of +10. These numbers aren’t pulled out of a magician’s hat but result from countless trials, errors, and what some might call an unhealthy obsession with color balance. Like a chef’s secret recipe, these values are part of what makes the image uniquely mine. Feel free to experiment with your concoctions, but remember: With great power (or slider control) comes great responsibility.