Hard to believe this was just three weeks ago. Snow flurries were on the mountain, thunderstorms were rolling through town. Now the spring/summer temperature yo-yo has begun. Not for long, I’m sure, as summer is inevitable.
To all the mothers out there, Happy Mother’s Day!
This year will probably be different for most of you, but hopefully all the sons and daughters will be able to show mom some extra appreciation today.
A number of years ago, my significant other was in a routine of visiting antique shops. While I went through hoping to God that none of that stuff was coming home with us, something actually caught my eye one particular trip. There was a small stack of predominantly black & white photographs. Subjects were mostly people, some in uniform. Almost all had older buildings and many included vintage cars. Most had borders, including a few with the textured edges. Some had hand written notes on the back, some had dates stamped on the front. Three had the Kodak Lab stamp on the back, with dates going back to 1945. Every single one of them was older than me. Although these were taken by everyday people, they all seemed to capture a moment in time. Perhaps because it cost money to click the shutter back then, people put more thought into what they were shooting. I think the stack was $10, so I had no hesitation in buying them.
Just one more thing guys, in case you’re taking mom on a hike. Don’t take her on a steep trail with steps cut into the rock, and handrails on the sides, and tell her it will be like walking through the mall. Give her a chance to dress appropriately.
When I was about thirty years old, I thought I was in pretty good shape, as most thirty year-olds would. Then, one day, I got a dose of reality. I had an assignment to photograph a hiking trail further north. The trail started at an elevation around a mile high and finished close to 6000 feet. It was about as smooth and evenly graded trail that you could ask for. I had a backpack full of camera gear and a tripod, but nothing I wasn’t used to carrying. It didn’t matter, because this mountain had kicked my ass.
The following week, I was determined to get in better shape. There were two nearby mountains in the city that had trails to the top and were fairly close-by. I started with the easier of the two, and the first few times felt like an effort, but then got easier. Soon, I was reaching the summit and didn’t feel I needed to rest. I saw that some others were repeating the hike, so I started doing the same. One day, I did it three times, and got comments from almost everybody I had lapped. To me, this environment wasn’t real hiking, but it didn’t matter – I was building my endurance. Afterwards, I concentrated my efforts to the other mountain, which turned out to be far more demanding. This one even involved some upper body work, especially on the detour routes. It took many times before I could make the summit without stopping. After a few months, my endurance was vastly improved, and I started doing this hike twice. A few months later, I started throwing on a backpack filled with forty pounds of weights. People looked at me and asked, “Are you getting ready for a Grand Canyon hike?”
“No, just preparing for life.”
Somewhere along the way in those years, I also started doing something I hated in high school. Jogging. Much like my hiking routine, this started quite pathetically. The block I lived on was exactly one mile around according to my odometer. It felt like five. Eventually, I made it around the block without stopping. Then twice, then thrice. I ran in some 5k’s and a couple 10k’s. The running built up different muscles and endurance than the hiking. I never once set foot in a gym, but I was as close to being a professional athlete as anyone might get.
About a year later, I was asked to photograph a story on mountain biking in the mountains of eastern Arizona. There were two men who joined me there. One was a professional mountain bike racer. The other was his best friend, riding partner, and writer for the story. I had gone to a local bike shop and rented what was probably a $300 bike, they both had titanium framed bikes costing about ten times that much.
The elevation was about 9000′ above sea level. One morning we headed out for the trails, and for whatever reason, I was the lead bike. The trail started up a moderate hill, and after several minutes, I heard them talking, but all I heard was my name and the word fast. I really thought I was holding them back, so I stood up on the pedals, and proceeded a little faster. There was a loud collective moaning behind me. I stopped and turned around and repeated what I heard and thought. “No” they replied, “We were trying to figure out how someone who has never mountain biked, and riding a pos bike, could be making us work this hard to stay even!”
Shortly after that trip, I purchased a mountain a mountain bike, which I have not really used like it was intended. I like uphill rides, but would ride the brakes most of the way downhill. Even before YouTube existed with its plethora of bike ride fails, I knew this law of physics:
Speed + Gravity = Pain
I once had a dog that could run at forty mph. I knew taking him on a ‘walk’ was not what he needed, so a lot of my bike riding experience was taking him through the neighborhood. Fortunately, we had some open spaces and dirt paths, so the bike was perfect for this situation.
Fast forward a few decades to my situation a couple months ago. As I started physical therapy, they put me on a stationary bike. I couldn’t operate it as it was, so they had me pedaling from a chair at the back of the bike. It wasn’t until about week four that I was on the proper seat. Another couple weeks and I was back on the real thing. Yes, I still own that same bike.
About the photograph.
I now live in a neighborhood that is mostly flat. No dirt roads. No dog. Although most would prefer a street bike to a mountain bike, I look at it differently. The tread of my bike offers more resistance, providing a better workout. I deliberately lower the air pressure for even more resistance. I have discovered during this quarantine, that empty parking garages make great hills for a workout. On one early morning ride, I took a different route and came across this garage of a building that was closed. There were a couple cars in the bottom level, so I had a feeling I might attract some attention. Up near the top level, the sun was streaming in and created long shadows. I took this with my iPhone because I had a feeling I wouldn’t have the opportunity again. Sure enough, as I reached the bottom, security was there asking me to kindly leave. That’s ok, I know of several other garages where I can still ride. With stay-at-home restrictions probably coming to an end soon, my bike rides will likely become a little less adventurous.
Cooler weather has made its way to the desert, and soon it will be time to start climbing around these sandstone hills again. This unique perspective of Red Rock Canyon is a panorama stitched from four frames. I was always pleased with the way it came together, but just recently tried converting it to b&w, and I think I like this outcome better.
I made a return to the upper Midwest last week, and although I didn’t have time to explore the region, being there was enough to make me wish the trip was planned a little differently. The photo is from a previous visit, from one of Minnesota’s State Parks. Although I make my home in the desert, and love it, the area around Lake Superior still ranks very high on my list of extraordinarily beautiful places in the US. If I could only put up with the winter…..
Slot canyons are amazing places in the way water can cut so deeply and intricately without removing the materials further out and above. They are also great places to hang out when the temperatures are soaring. Fortunately, we are heading into fall, and the relief factor is yielding to the fun of just exploring the desert. This week’s photo comes from Cathedral Gorge State Park in eastern Nevada. Unlike slot canyons in sandstone, these crevices don’t run very long, and are so narrow you have to side-step in a couple places to get through.
September 23rd marks the first day of autumn this year, but that is normally an irrelevant day in this part of the US. This morning I had the air-conditioning turned off and the doors open for the first time in a while, so perhaps this season will be different. I read a few months ago that the El Nino currents were still in place, which would account for a lack of a summer monsoon season. Another wet winter and spring would certainly be welcome, especially if followed by another spectacular wildflower season.
The cooler air also means we’ve made it through the worst of forest fire season. Our forests have been spared from significant sized fires. Surprisingly, of all places, the worst one this season was in southern Arizona. The Woodbury Fire lasted for about a month and consumed over 120,000 acres. Rugged terrain, inaccessibility, and summer heat were the contributing factors keeping that one from being extinguished quickly.
My closest mountain retreat, pictured above, did not have to deal with closures or fires this summer. Every autumn, I keep feeling like we just made it through another round of Russian Roulette. So many dry years, and just enough careless people visiting the forests push the odds in favor of the fires. Let’s hope for a few more El Nino winters.
I find that many photogenic boulder locations tend to be in lower deserts here in the southwest. Joshua Tree National Park comes to mind when I see what other photographers like to cover. The boulders there may receive more attention than the tree the park is named for. There are much better Joshua Trees to see than the ones there, so I completely get this one.
The subjects of my photo come from the cooler, higher elevations of Prescott National Forest in central Arizona. The tree at the back is what caught my attention here. It provides a nice contrast and an element of scale for these massive rocks. The clouds drifting into the frame completed the scene for me.
As summer drags into its last month (in theory), we here in the desert are looking forward to a change. Normally the seasonal monsoon rains have their rhythm going by now, and lowered the fire danger and temperatures (ever so minimally). Even if the rains are few and far between, the clouds offer some relief as well as photogenic backdrops. On the occasions we have had clouds and rain, the storms started early, and were finished early.
This time of year, it’s nice to get away to the mountains for some relief. A lot of other people have the same idea, so when I go, I usually find some rough, isolated road to get further from the crowds. Because the fire danger throughout the west remains high, and most fires are human caused, I no longer feel comfortable doing this. I never make campfires wherever I go for environmental reasons, and I don’t understand why anyone would need a fire when it doesn’t get below 50 degrees. I think this was a tradition started by people in old western movies that needs to go away.
For now, my photo trips have been limited in number and almost exclusively on paved roads. These photos are from late spring in the desert of western Arizona. The yuccas are the last thing to flower in the desert, with the blooms taking place over an extended period, depending on the right conditions for each plant. As I approached the plants below, there was a definite buzz in the air. The bottom photo is a crop of the one above it, so you should be able to see the bees more clearly. Ive photographed these plants in spring before, and never remember encountering a single bee. About 100 feet away was a similar plant with fresher blooms, but no bees. I guess this is what happy hour looks like if you’re a bee!
Last autumn I was in Seattle, and had the chance to walk around downtown under mostly dry skies. I found these trees to be dynamic with their color, but it wasn’t until recently that I had time to convert these to b&w. In the original, the two trees are completely different in color, but by changing the individual color values in the conversion, they appear similar, making it a stronger image.
This is my contribution to Leanne Cole’s Monochrome Madness, having the theme of Seasons this week. To see what other photographers have contributed, or instructions to join in, please visit Leanne’s website.
Antelope Canyon is one of the most photographed spots in the southwestern US. As you wander through this tight canyon, you can’t help but eventually look towards the sky which is no longer visible. Light tries to find its way to the bottom, and as it does, highlights the textures of the smooth, twisted, sculpted walls.
This is my contribution to Leanne Cole’s Monochrome Madness this week. Being the first one of the month, there was a theme of From Under. To see what other photographers have contributed, or instructions to join in, please visit Leanne’s website.
For this week’s Monochrome Madness, the theme is wild. I have been to several places so remote, not even the governing agencies could answer my inquiries as to trail conditions or water reliability. And although these remote places are seldom seen by people, images captured there may not necessarily reflect the feelings of isolation.
Bryce Canyon, the location of my photo, has spots that you can hike to that will give you a feeling of being in a wilderness, but most of the trails will have you hiking side-by-side with a bunch of strangers. Despite that, it is still the wildest looking place I have ever been to. This is my contribution to Leanne Cole’s Monochrome Madness this week. To see what other photographers have contributed, or instructions to join in, visit her website.
Steve Bruno Photo 
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