Stories and pictures about our travels, our photography and the outdoors.
Sometimes you don’t have to travel far for a photograph. The flowering trees in our yard provided the flowers and a rare (for 2021) rain storm provided the water drops. Hope you enjoy.
As usual, if you click on any of the images they will open in a separate window.
In the wilds of eastern Oregon there exists a mysterious feature. A place where walls of basalt have been riven apart by mysterious and powerful forces. With seemingly no warning, the traveler is lead down, and down, into a place with little resemblance to the world of sage and juniper that exists above. Journey with us into Crack In The Ground.
It begins with what appears to be an innocuous path. A place between some rocks.
As we enter we soon notice large pieces of rock thrown in precarious positions. Might a rock fall at any time smashing us between rock and more rock? Is this some sort of troglodyte trap?
But being the intrepid explorers that we are, we forge on.
Past mysterious slits in the wall. Are these sealed doors from whence Orcs might spring behind us?
What horrific forces have been at work here that caused rock to run and bubble?
As we continue our descent, red streaks and strange patches grow on some surfaces. Remnants of the surface winter accumulate on the occasional flat surface.
As our descent continues, more red streaks are seen. Are these the embedded stains from the bloody event that created this rip in the solid rock? What horrific clash of forces occurred here?
Deeper we trudge into the chasm. The footing becomes ever more treacherous and slippery. The light ever more dim.
The texture of the walls becomes rough. With the treacherous footing, a fall here could lead to horrific avulsions of our lightly protected integument. But onward we trudge.
The light begins to fail completely.
I hear a voice. Is it calling my name?
Boyd
Boyd!
Boyd!!!
Boyd I think we need to cut back on our Netflix streaming. Your prose is getting a little out of hand.
Maybe you are right Kathy. But it is a Crack in the Ground.
(ˈbärk) noun (1) the tough exterior covering of a woody root or stem
specifically : the tissues outside the cambium that include an inner layer especially of secondary phloem and an outer layer of periderm
(2) The photographically interesting outside of a tree
Click on the individual images to see them in full frame.
Kathy thinks I’m better at writing these blog posts then she is. I don’t know about that. I do know Kathy is an incredible photo editor who makes my work much better. I also know that her own work is pretty darn good too. I hope you enjoy these highlights from Kathy’s 2020 photo efforts.
Note: These images are all letterboxed which means if you click on them they will be shown in a separate pop-up window. Depending on your device screen this may make the image easier to view.
Basalt and Water
End of Spring
Metolious Froth
North bank of the eastern Columbia Gorge in Fall
Leafy Cascade
Breaking Bud
Dogwood Single
Mushroom Trio
Sunrise Quail
Chipper
Extrusion
Saturn Rising
Snow Cone
Multnomah Falls
Suspended
2020. Not the year we had planned. And by we I mean the planet. But we, Kathy and I, tried to take opportunities as they presented themselves. We think we managed to make some interesting images this year without traveling to far away lands. All of the photos in this collection, and the follow-on one with Kathy’s favorites, were taken within a day’s drive of Central Oregon. So good bye 2020, hello 2021 and hopefully we all will find more opportunities for good light and enlightenment. Boyd
Note: These images are all letterboxed which means if you click on them they will be shown in a separate pop-up window. Depending on your device screen this may make the image easier to view.
Irrelevant Remnant
Carbonite
Solitary
Needles, Snow and Rock
Crossed
Blackberry Cluster
Light in the Fog
Spring Day on the McKenzie River
Bark and Fern
Reaching Pink
Fall Evening at Cascade Locks
Falling. Between Leaves
Last Leaves of Fall
Separation
Lonely Leaf
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
