Boyd & Kathy Turner Photography

Journal

Stories and pictures about our travels, our photography and the outdoors.

 

Columbia Gorge Sojourn

North bank near the eastern end of the Columbia Gorge

In November 1805 the Lewis and Clark expedition passed through the Columbia Gorge for the first time. The Gorge was much different then. With no dams, the Columbia River was a wild river with dangerous rapids and rocky shoals. Now the river is a series of impoundments, bracketed by high speed transport. But the walls of the Gorge are still mostly wild. The many waterfalls and streams, indeed the source of the name of the mountain range, still tumble down the steep slopes toward the Columbia. We visited the Gorge 215 years to the month after Lewis and Clark. And it wasn’t our first trip to the big gorge through the Cascades. For this trip we “enjoyed” stereotypical Oregon November weather: cloudy with rain. And though we wore goretex rather than buckskins, we were moved by the landscape in a way we think Lewis and Clark may have been. Large trees, falling water, the threat of the onset of winter and shortening daylight haven’t changed in 215 years. Although the accommodations and variety of food have gotten somewhat better. We hope we can share with you some of what we saw and felt as we travelled the Gorge.

Fall at Bridge of the Gods in Cascade Locks.

Cas cade (ka’ skad)
1. a small waterfall, typically one of several that fall in stages down a steep rocky slope
2. a process whereby something, typically information or knowledge, is successively passed on

We think the small streams do pass on information: they carry traces of the lands above to the great river below. Has there been a fire? The streams carry woody debris. Is fall coming? The cascade of water cascades leaves downstream.

wa ter fall (woder fol)
a cascade of water falling from a height, formed when a river or stream flows over a precipice or steep incline.

Readers of this journal will know that we are fascinated by details. In the Gorge during fall, leaves are obvious details but not the only ones.

Although we love details, sometimes you just have to enjoy the big picture.

We hope you have enjoyed this little sojourn. You can click on any of the images for a popup/lightbox version.

Boyd TurnerComment
Thank You

Wave of the Wizard

I wanted to publicly thank Brooks Jensen and Maureen Gallagher for choosing the above image for inclusion in their book: Our Magnificent Planet 2020; Single-Image Celebrations from LensWork Readers. I am honored to have this image be one of the fine works in this book. Unfortunately this will be a posthumous thank you to Maureen who recently passed away after succumbing to cancer. My condolences go to her partner Brooks. I am sure it was incredibly difficult to complete this book while Maureen was in the last stages of her illness. Although I will never have a chance to thank Maureen personally, I hope to someday be able to thank Brooks in person. Again, humbly, thank you.

Boyd

Boyd TurnerComment
Black Forest/White Snow
Black Forest/White Snow

After a historic season of fire across the western United States, winter snows have begun to fall. The cycle begins again. Fire. Water. Growth. Death. Fire. For millennia fire has been a part of the forest. Sometimes with a gentle hand, sometimes with an apocalyptic blow torch. As you may know, we have a personal relationship with fire. (If you didn’t know - scroll through the journal or look at the Land of Fire Gallery). We have seen things others don’t get to. Although we are no longer on the front lines during the summer, there are still many stories to tell after the fire is over. With the winter snows, comes another story: the arrival of water. We journeyed out to one of this year’s fires as the first snow began to lay down a carpet of white over the black vegetation and the scarred soils. We hope you find this visual story interesting as you contemplate another northern hemisphere winter or the beginning of a southern hemisphere fire season.

Boyd TurnerComment
The Land Between the Rivers

North Central Oregon is one of those long place names that makes sense as a string of words but may not be so easy to find on a map. Or maybe too easy to find on several maps. The problem being, that depending on the map, the boundaries may be wildly different. Does North Central Oregon extend as far north as the Columbia River? As far east as Heppner and Boardman? South to Bend or should we draw a line at Madras? Maybe at the Crooked River?

We aren’t geographers; although we love well drawn maps. And Boyd can be down right fussy about them. (“Where is the date, datum, and scale?” he has been heard to complain.) But this isn’t a blog about maps. It is about photography. In this entry it is about the land between three defining rivers: the Columbia, the Deschutes and the John Day. Because we are not geographers we can choose our own boundaries for North Central Oregon. And we can choose to call it a more descriptive name. The Land Between the Rivers.

Hope you enjoy a look at some of the landscapes in this often ignored part of the Great State of Oregon.

You can click on each image to open in a new window.

Boyd TurnerComment
McKenzie Spring

We hoped to have a bunch of new stories by now. But then came Covid-19 lockdown. But with things easing up and spring in full swing, we managed to get out on the McKenzie River on the Willamette National Forest of Oregon. With it being spring, on the west side of the Cascades, it was a little “damp.” But a little “Oregon sunshine” can make for some good days in the forest. We found beautiful flowers, interesting plants, and lots of image opportunities. Hope you enjoy our little taste of McKenzie Spring.

Boyd TurnerComment
Santiam snowshoe

It was a mild day. February isn’t supposed to be “mild”. It’s supposed to be cold, stormy. The time of the year when the indoor chores get done. Not this year in Central Oregon. We have had a lot of sunny days with relatively mild daytime temperatures. On one of these days, we took a snowshoe hike in the area of the Santiam Pass on the Willamette National Forest. We found a land of textures, glare and shadows between Mt. Washington and Three Fingered Jack. Here’s a visual summary of our Santiam snowshoe.

Boyd TurnerComment
Kathy's Favorites from 2019

Hi. It’s Kathy. I don’t write here that often but since Boyd posted his top 15 I thought I should put my Top 15 up also. And yes, it was a big flower year!

As Boyd said in his post, we are trying something new. These are just a portion of each image. Click on the thumbnail to see the whole image.

Boyd TurnerComment
That went quick.
That went quick.

Seriously we try to post at least once a month. This has not been achieved as we only posted 9 times in 2019. We will try again in 2020. But we are already a month behind. Wow. Where does the time go?

For now here are Boyd’s 15 favorite images from 2019. This is kind of an eclectic mess. But we have plans for some interesting places in 2020, so hopefully more interesting stories and images will follow more frequently.

I’m trying something new. These are just a portion of each image. Click on the thumbnail to see the whole image.

Boyd TurnerComment
Tarde en El Morro

We recently found ourselves in the Caribbean with some time to explore old San Juan, Puerto Rico. And old means really old. Back to the days of shortly after Columbus old. We took time on a very warm day to walk the Morro and the Cristobal forts. Built in the days of Dutch raiders and English privateers the Moro protects the entrance to the strategic port of San Juan. After 400 years of invaders and hurricanes, that the structures still stand is a testament to the effort that went into their construction. We were so impressed with the structures (and the 87F heat and 87% humidity) we thought we should share our afternoon at El Morro.

Tarde en El Morro

Esperando la Flota

Puerta a la Luz

Borde del Nuevo Mundo

Boyd TurnerComment
Frame rate or what the tree saw
Frame rate or what the tree saw

Let’s start with the second part of the title first. Trees can live much longer than humans. The average pine tree in the western US might have a lifespan of 300 plus years. An oak tree might also be good for a couple of hundred years or more. Bristlecone pine can be 2,000 years old, or more. What if trees have a perception of time? Would they perceive a day or an hour or a minute in the same way as a human? Us humans perceive motion with a certain frame rate. If you go to the cinema the film in the old days showed at approximately 24 frames per second. Video generates around 30 frames per second. Trees potentially live 30 times the lifespan of a human. What if their frame rate is a thirtieth that of a human? What would that look like? What would a tree see if it was growing alongside a river? What if I slow my camera down so that I’m taking one frame every 4-6 seconds. Would it be what the tree saw? Look at the images below and see if you can see like a tree.

Beard of the Wizard

Carnal Curves

Drop to Enlightenment

Laminar Darkness

Release to Turbulence

Strands of Silver

Tresses of Namakaokahai

Ok the titles might be a little fruity or nutty. But I think trees may be serious thinkers and would give serious titles. After all they have deep roots. And time.

Boyd TurnerComment