Diver’s Cove

A favorite scene from last week’s road trip to Laguna

Diver's Cove, Laguna Beach California

All The Way Up

Certainly one of the highlights of visiting The Big Island was the drive up to the top of Mauna Kea. It summits at 13, 796 feet above sea level (4205 m) and it’s possible to drive all but the last 50 feet or so. It has to be one of the more, if not mo,st accessible peaks in existence. (I stand ready to be corrected.)

The Mauna Kea Road

The Mauna Kea Road

There are 13 observatories up here supported by a collaboration of 18 nations. If you’re a stargazer, there is probably no better place on earth, certainly none as open as this one, to practice your obsession.

When we left the visitor center – at 7000 feet (2134 m)  – the temperature was about 55 degrees F  (13 C) and we expected it to be much more brisk on top. It wasn’t. The temperature rose about 10 degrees F. Bright – very bright – and balmy.  It did not take long for the change in altitude to work its effects though so we spent less than an hour on top.

There are lots of things to see and do on Hawaii but this was the highlight for me.  This is on the go-back list.




Mitzi & Diana

Mitzi & DianeIMG_0325


Kuhakuloa Head, Maui

Along the northwestern shore


Forbidden Bay

This One’s For Mo

Forbidden Bay


Iced Exotic


Blue Ridge Sunset

No, I’m not back on the East Coast yet, though if I were I’d be in Lexington with David Toczko at the Rolex Three Day. It was a highlight of my year in 2012. This particular picture was a backdrop for another type of highlight in 2010, the sort that comes ones way just as they’re falling over the edge of a cliff. The good with the bad you know. It was taken in North Carolina. And like the song says, for a while falling can feel like flying.  It looks much more appealing to me today than it did in the days shortly after it was taken. Still….

I’m throwing it up because for the last couple of years I’ve been shooting craggy western peaks and the sunsets that seem to crash over them on their way to Australia and beyond. The eastern mountains that I grew up with have a more soothing effect. The peaks older and smoother and  covered with evergreens dotted with patches of deciduous trees here and there: Just enough to ensure a colorful display each autumn. The ridges interlock with one another creating corridors that zig and zag and invite you to explore further. They draw you in. This particular sunset was especially hypnotic and on the day it was taken was all but intoxicating. The results were so predictable – to everyone but me.


I miss these vistas. They can be replicated to a degree by the mountains that surround the northern boundaries for the Los Angeles Basin, the Santa Monica hills to the northwest and the San Gabriels immediately to the north and east. Given just the right amount of haze they take on that blue aura so familiar too habitués of the eastern mid-Atlantic. But sage brush and juniper give the illusion away. They have their own appeal of course and I’d be the first to tell you that it is no less compelling an environment than the one with which I am most familiar. Just not the same.

When you stand on the Blue Ridge and look west you’re gazing at the long-held promise of America. Everything you see for as far as you can see constitutes the portfolio of freedom that has stood at the core of our existence since before we were a nation. What you see is the tangible vision that fueled our drive to explore and discover and claim and capture and hold dear. It was not always a clear vision. Not at all. Our saving grace has been that it prevailed.

When I stand on the mountaintops here in California and look west I see the periphery of the largest ocean on earth. For decades it provided a boundary that protected our endeavors and a sea upon which we could pursue more diversified interests than were available to us otherwise. But to my mind it never ever drove us to achieve the way that Blue Ridge promise did. The ocean has always been something we could take or leave – at least so far as our national identity is concerned. In fact that is not true; in feeling it is spot on.

I wound up where I am now for many of the same reasons that our ancestors did. I am working on gaining a greater understanding of the tagline Mr. Thurber provided for this blog. I’m grateful for the trails my predecessors blazed. They certainly made it easier for me to get here. But it’s left to me to figure out why. And to take in any sunset anywhere for what it’s really worth: the promise, though not the guarantee, of a new day to come.


Back In San Francisco

Drove up to San Francisco for the weekend to participate in a Google+ Photographers Photo Walk led by Chris Cabot and Dave Powell. Dave authors ShootTokyo.com, a blog I’ve followed for quite a while and I jumped at the opportunity to meet him and quite a few other people who I’ve only know electronically. I also got to see my brother Pat for the first time in more than eighteen months.

Weather is gorgeous if a bit windy but what the heck: it’s The City. Hard not to just enjoy being in a place like this.

I ran across the Golden Gate to the Marin Headlands on Saturday evening for shots of Pt Bonita, Rodeo Beach and of the GG Bridge at night.

Here’s are a couple of iPhone pics of the beach and the point with a gratuitous cable car thrown in for good measure. The others are still processing through DxO. But I can tell you, the bridge shots are simply soectaclortous!

We’re shooting in the Marina in the afternoon. Some of those later.




Sometimes Sunsets Are Silver

Sometimes Sunsets Are Silver




I couldn’t bring YoYo along on this trip and I miss him every day, especially in the mornings: he is great to wake up to. Big smile. Tail wagging. Reminding me that no matter what I have a purpose – and a friend. And that he’s going to have a wonderful day and I’m invited to tag along should tag along.

I checked in on Yo a few days ago. He’s doing great. I doubt he misses me. Dogs are enlightened beings – unlike their humans.

I’m not without a four-legged friend though. I find them everywhere when I’m out shooting. They particularly like beaches and seem to like people with cameras. Sometimes I’m not sure whether I’m looking for them or they’re looking for me.

I ran into this guy roaming round Malibu with his humans. He was much friendlier than they were. Dogs are like that. So are humans.