During one of our drives on US 550 between Ouray and Silverton, we noted an unmarked gravel road heading towards a mountainside, but it appeared to end after a short distance, so we initially ignored it. On a subsequent trip past it, we decided to check it out.
After driving a short distance, not being able to see the road ahead and concerned there might not be a place to turn around on the narrow road, we decide it might be best to park at a wider spot in the road and walk ahead. We did not have to walk far to the end of this road, but it was mostly uphill. Fortunately, it was not very steep.
We passed a small, cascading mountain stream, which crossed the roadway.
Even though this was not a big stream, it was attractive and captivating as most such streams tend to be.
The road ended at what appeared to be a minor mine exploratory site. A mountain stream with a long section of it visible going up the mountain side ran past the site. I made a number of images shooting down onto the stream nearest the roadway, but I could not get any attractive compositions that way.
Scrambling down rocky ledges away from the roadway and up the stream, gave better views of the stream and the wildflowers along the stream edge.
The photo above is an example of including too much in an image. The stream acts as a leading line, but there is no center of interest in this photo. My eye goes to the most prominent part of the cascade in the lower left; but when my eye follows the stream towards the upper right, I do not see anything of great impact. I was zoomed in as much as possible with the 24-70mm lens, so I could not isolate anything any better from my view point. I could try cropping this image on portions of the image and maybe make a more interesting one; but the composition cannot be changed via cropping. Getting closer to a portion of the stream might have been the only way to get an impactful image here.
In the distance I could see a waterfall. I think the image below is better, but the waterfall in the upper right is maybe too distant to have real weight. Still I think this image has some intrigue, making one want to know more about what is in the distance down the stream.
It was beginning to rain lightly and we were not wearing rain gear, so we decided to head back to the vehicle and save exploring along this stream up to the waterfall for another time. It began raining harder as we walked along. I put my hat over my camera to protect it, which resulted in my getting more wet. Fortunately, it was not a Texas type rainstorm.
I hope these post on photography in Yankee Boy Basin are not getting boring. Initially, I had only planned for two posts, but those got longer than I expected. This will be a short post with only a couple of photos to review.
These two images are from our last evening to shoot here. The weather report indicated a smallish chance for rain, so we thought we would get lucky and have a tremendously beautiful sky at sunset. It did not turn out that way. The sky was heavily overcast all around and it began to rain shortly after we got into position to shoot, so we cut our outing short.
The composition above, I thought at the time, was just a desperate attempt to get something, as it began to sprinkle, before we had to retreat. I had reservations about even spending time editing this image or showing it to anyone. After letting this one sit for awhile before editing it, I remembered why I made this image.
The tops of the yellowish-green vegetation, running diagonally from the bottom left corner, leads the eye to the dead, leaning tree trunk, which in turn points to the overcast, threatening sky, as if to say, “you better hurry and shoot now”. So, I think, this composition worked better than I expected, when I was hastily making this image.
This final image is again one that I still have reservations about. I’m trying to show the drama in the sky and soften it with the wildflowers in the foreground set below the rugged mountain peaks. The softness of the wildflowers is enhanced by motion, created by the wind and a slow shutter speed. This is usually not the kind of image I prefer. Often I would increase the ISO under these conditions to get a fast shutter speed to freeze the motion in the vegetation and in the clouds. If there had been some side lighting on the wildflowers this would have been a much more impactful image.
Please feel free to critique my images. Your feedback is always welcome.
Porphyry Basin, Colorado is accessed via a narrow, steep 4WD road off of US550 between Ouray and Silverton.
My oldest son drove us up the road to the basin in July, 2020. On the way up the mountainside, we passed a canvas tent with a stove pipe jutting from the top. It was obvious that someone had set up that tent for a long term camp. Upon arriving at the end of the 4WD road at an old mine site, it became apparent who was living in that heavy duty tent. First we saw a large flock of sheep spread across the high mountain meadow, then a horse staked out nearby the roadway, two sheep dogs, and a lone shepherd watching over the sheep.
We wandered around the old mine site with its collapsed wooden structure and other scattered debris, being careful to not step on old rusty nails or other potentially harmful items lying around on the ground.
The basin is beautiful with an abundance of wildflowers, a mountain stream and a waterfall. It was bright daylight so I hand held my Nikon D850, shooting with a fast shutter speed to freeze the motion of the flowers. It was too bright to get a long exposure of the waterfall for that silky, flowing water effect.
Higher resolution images can be viewed on my Flickr page by clicking on the images in this post.
Yellowstone National Park is a truly amazing and one of a kind natural wonder. I’ve only passed through it briefly on a couple of occasions, when the primary objective was Glacier National Park in Montana. Yellowstone and Grand Teton were in the road travel path, so passing through those, it made perfect sense to utilize a stop over at one or both of those parks on the way to Glacier and back.
Spending only a day or two in this very large park in no way allows one to see all that it has to offer; but it is possible to see most of the commonly visited sites. In addition to the really big features and geysers, there are small features that are interesting and hardly ever mentioned and I expect not observed closely by most visitors.
This post is about one of those minor features, which can be observed from the safety of board walks. There are areas where the hot water and steam escaping from underground creates mud puddles that are dynamically pulsing, but in a much smaller way than the eruptions of the major geysers.
It is fun to watch these tiny eruptions of mud spewing just a few inches into the air. The expelled mud takes on random, fleeting, geometric shapes. These shapes can be captured in photographs, if one has patience to spend a few minutes observing and learning how to time shots. I think the best approach is to watch and anticipate the eruptions and shoot in burst (continuous) mode with a fast shutter speed, capturing a quick series of images during the eruption. Thumbing through the images one may find really interesting and intriguing shapes.
Here are a couple of the best ones I managed to capture in the few minutes I had to observe and shoot.
These small features are so fleeting that one usually does not have time to mentally process the shapes as they appear and evolve so quickly, but photographs freeze the shapes, allowing for a greater appreciation of natures temporary artwork.
So, if you get a chance to visit Yellowstone, enjoy the big geysers and colorful pools, but don’t forget to observe the smaller events.
A few years ago, tired of the unending job of trimming large Ligustrum trees in a back corner of our yard, I decided to take out those trees and create a tropical landscape, that would look more appropriate behind our large pool.
I had already taken out a number of large Crepe Myrtles that were a year round nuisance, requiring severe pruning several times a year, clogging the pool skimmer with blooms, staining the pool apron, dropping leaves and seed pods, putting out shoots and trying to take over the neighborhood.
The Ligustrum trees were a similar maintenance problem. Knowing that birds frequently built their nest in these trees, I looked for nests before beginning the removal process, finding nothing but old, abandoned nests. So with my electric chain saw and pruning tools, I began removing limbs, working my way towards taking down the main trunks.
This process took some time, as I removed limbs, trimmed them to manageable size and dragged the trimmings to the front curb for pickup by our trash service. I was feeling quite satisfied, when I got to the point of removing the top of the last tree. My feeling of progress and accomplishment, as the tree top crashed to the ground, was quickly dampened, when I heard the frantic cries of baby birds and spotted their nest from which they had just been ejected. The babies were very young and did not yet have feathers. Feeling guilty and responsible for their plight, I gathered them and placed them back into the nest, while wondering how I was going to make amends.
There was a main trunk of one tree still standing with a stub of a branch, to which I managed to secure the nest. Realizing that the babies were totally exposed to the sun and elements with no tree foliage for protection, I retrieved an old umbrella and fastened it, with zip ties and twine, to the tree stub to provide some shade and protection of the nest.
I’m sure my neighbors, who could only see the top of the umbrella above the fence line, wondered what craziness I was up to, cutting off the top of a tree and replacing it with a dilapidated umbrella. Had the umbrella been visible from the street, I’m sure my aggressive HOA would have demanded that I take the umbrella down.
I waited and observed from a distance to see if the parents would return to the nest. The parents soon returned, but were very cautious, spending much time watching from a perch on the privacy fence near the tree stub, fluttering near the nest, but not landing. After an extended period of caution, the parents finally accepted the new location of the nest and resumed caring for the baby chicks.
As the chicks grew, I began to take a few photos, documenting their progress. The photos are not great, but serve to illustrate this event.
The chicks developed, growing feathers, becoming more vociferous in their demands for food and beginning to venture just outside the confines of the nest.
One day, I found one of the young birds on the ground. I could not leave it there for fear of neighbors’ cats, that frequented our yard, finding and making a meal of the young bird. I picked up the foundling, which complained loudly, as I tried to place it back into the nest, while being attacked by the parents, with all the baby birds screaming for help. While I managed to get the one bird back into the nest, another one was frightened out of the nest and onto the ground.
Realizing that any attempt to put the second baby bluejay back into the nest would probably result in another one jumping out, I decided that I had to put those that left the nest into something other than the nest, from which they could not easily escape and hope that the parents would still take care of them.
I had several plastic bins supplied by a recycling service, so I decided one of those would by suitable. I could not leave the bin on the ground, where the baby birds would be easily accessible to the neighbors’ cats, so I secured the bin to the tree trunk. This arrangement worked – for awhile.
Eventually, all of the chicks ended up in the recycle bin.
We lived in an area subject to heavy rains and tropical storms. Late one night one of those strong thunderstorms blew in and I knew the baby birds were getting pounded by the rain. The next morning I went out to check on the birds. Much to my dismay, they had all perished in the storm. There was standing water in the recycle bin, which did not have drainage holes in the bottom. There was not much water, but apparently enough that the exposure was fatal for the young birds that could not escape from the death trap that I had unwittingly made.
This was a great disappointment. Those babies were so close to being ready to take flight on their own and my stupid mistakes had resulted in their deaths.
Such a simple experience, but it remains with me, in a Bluejay purgatory.
I am reminded of the words of the poet, Robert Burns:
“The best laid schemes of mice and men go often awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain, for promised joy!”