point of land…

on the Oregon coast where the Salmon River enters the Pacific Ocean.

nothing to anchor…

vintage photo of the remnants of an old fence line in Northeastern Oregon…

chasing the moon…

the Super Moon…the moon, that had not been so super since the year I was born…1948. Portland was socked in with rain coming. Weather forecasts in all directions showed clouds and rain coming by early evening. There was potentially a ‘sliver’ of hope to the East…about a 100 miles East. I took off East and bypassed hopeful vantage points (Crown Point, Cascade Locks, Hood River, The Dalles, Celilo Falls) that were socked in with spatters of rain. I pretty much lost hope as it looked cloudy as far as I could see. Coming upon Rufus, Oregon I saw a road that seemed to wind up above the Gorge (Columbia River Gorge) so I took the road and ended up high above amongst wind turbines and not another person in view. I drove around the area, snapped some shots of the turbines and prepared to leave when I saw a bright, wide ‘sliver’ of light penetrating the dark clouds and darkness. I turned around and headed toward the NE, where the light showed. I bailed out, set the camera atop the tripod and prepared to shoot. I neglected to adjust my ISO after having shot the wind turbines in the emerging darkness. As the Super Moon barely emerged amongst the clouds, it shined very bright. It was indeed huge…’super’. I had about 60 seconds as it emerged upward through the strata of rain clouds. I snapped away but, I had been in too much of a hurry and had not been prepared to adjust the settings as the arrival took me by surprise. It was a fun, private event atop the Gorge.

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between the trees…

An elk bedded down…

“The elk that you glimpse in the summer, those at the forest edge, are survivors of winter, only the strongest. You see one just before dusk that summer, standing at the perimeter of the meadow so it can step back to the forest and vanish. You can’t help imagining the still, frozen nights behind it, so cold that the slightest motion is monumental. I have found their bodies, half drifted over in snow, no sign of animal attack or injury. Just toppled over one night with ice working into their lungs. You wouldn’t want to stand outside for more than a few minutes in that kind of weather. If you lived through only one of those winters the way this elk has, you would write books about it. You would become a shaman. You would be forever changed. That elk from the winter stands there on the summer evening, watching from beside the forest. It keeps its story to itself.”  Craig Childs, The Animal Dialogues, Uncommon Encounters in the Wild

time to think…

“The greatest gift of life on the mountain is time. Time to think or not think, read or not read, scribble or not scribble — to sleep and cook and walk in the woods, to sit and stare at the shapes of the hills.” Philip Connors

swinging the fly…

in the Deschutes River Canyon…chasing Steelhead