Divide Meadow Bobcat

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A friend at work told me at least a couple of months ago that he'd had a fairly close encounter with a bobcat at Divide Meadow in Pt. Reyes, and then he told me it happened again just a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday I felt that I couldn't spend another five-day workweek in an office building, so I took the day off to bike up to the meadow, with a plan to look for the bobcat and afterwards ride to the end of the bike trail then hike down to the coast where Arch Rock used to be.

I spotted the bobcat right away. Unfortunately, he was way in the back of the meadow. I watched him for a few minutes and it looked like he was hunting and would likely be in that same spot for a good while. I parked my bike and hiked up along the edge of the woods to try to flank around him, not wanting to make a direct line toward him. 

Steller's jays were squawking like crazy as I got near the point I'd last seen the cat, so I sat down and waited to see if he'd show himself. A slight skunk scent wafted over the whole meadow. My shoes and socks were soaked from walking through the dew-covered grass. The cat didn't show up, so after about a half hour I hiked back to my bike and continued the ride.

After checking out the collapsed rubble that once was Arch Rock (it looks much the same as it did last year) and picking three ticks off me, I rode back to Divide Meadow and waited maybe half an hour before the bobcat showed himself again. I caught him pouncing after his prey, but he missed. He looked back at me as if I'd messed him up, then scuttled away in the other direction. I spotted him again a short time later and got the second shot before he strolled into the woods and was gone.

A few people I spoke with at the meadow had all seen the bobcat before and enjoyed a chance to see him again.

There were trillium along the Coast Creek trail, and even a small patch of bleeding hearts.

Seems like everyone is seeing great patches of miner's lettuce this year. The stinging nettle is just getting started and is still just barely knee high.

This is the view up Coast Creek from close to where it used to flow beneath Arch Rock. The old Arch Rock trail no longer has a sign or construction barrier to warn hikers away. Instead, the old trail has been completely decommissioned, covered up with plant material. The sign at the trailhead no longer mentions Arch Rock either. It just points to the Coast Trail.

Three ticks! The first was crawling on the back of my left hand. I plucked him off and checked my legs. Sure enough, I found two more. When I walked back to the main trail I spotted what looked like another tick hanging out near the tip of a dry stalk of grass with its legs splayed out. I put on my glasses to get a better look, and sure enough, there he was. After that I very gingerly continued along the trail to Miller's Point.

From Miller's Point I could see with the aid of binoculars that Alamere Falls was going full blast onto the beach which was covered by a receding high tide. Breakers were splashing right up against the bluffs. I've been thinking about getting out to Alamere Falls again, and just yesterday I tried to reserve a camping space at Wildcat Camp for my wife's spring break next month. No dice. The week is already booked up. 

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Snow on the Mountain

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Sometimes it doesn't pay to be early. The Pantoll gate was locked when I arrived, well after 7 a.m., and probably closer to 8 a.m. I pulled into the campers' parking lot and got out to pay the $8 parking fee when a beautiful downpour of small hail turned the place into a wonderland. On second thought I decided to drive down the road to park for free, then walk back up to hike out the Matt Davis Trail. While I was setting up this shot of my first shooting stars of the season, a park ranger drove down Pantoll Road and opened the gate. It was about 8:20.

I walked a little farther along the trail to see what I might find in the woods and came across a bunch of calypso orchids. I was seeing calypsos three weeks earlier last year. Maybe they've been waiting for the rains to ease up. After shooting the orchid I hiked back to the car and drove up to Rock Spring, then headed out along West Ridgecrest to look for mushrooms. I was still finding quite a lot of fungi at this time of year in 2014, but my usual haunts on the mountain haven't been producing much this season, and I found very little of interest.

Instead of mushrooms, I found lots of Indian warrior.

Out in the open I found quite a bit of Lomatium getting started. As I was taking my time to poke around I realized the sky was getting interesting, so I headed back to the car to drive out to Druid Rocks.

My thermometer said it was a balmy 49 degrees, but the windchill was something else. A strong and steady wind was howling over the ridge, and I kept ducking behind big rocks to get out of the finger-nipping cold.

It wasn't long before I'd had enough of the cold, so I hiked back to the car and drove it to a nice overlook to await the incoming storm. I could see huge curtains of precipitation falling to the north and figured they would soon drift south toward me.

What I didn't figure was that the precipitation would fall as snow! It didn't stick, but it was still a beautiful thing to see. I posted a little bit of video at the end of the post.

Once the snow let up I drove back to have a closer look at one of the very few mushrooms I found all morning. Like a waxy cap I recently found, this was another stalked mushroom that seemed content just to put its head above ground and go no further. 

Here it is, pried loose to show its very short, fluted stalk. I took a picture then tucked it back from whence it came.

I shot this hand-held from inside the car, so it is what it is.

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Carson Falls

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It was a beautiful morning for a hike up to Carson Falls. Fairfax-Bolinas Road is still closed at Azalea Hill, so I had to hike up the Pine Mountain Fire Road instead of using my preferred route through the woods up Liberty Gulch. The whole valley above the falls was still in shade and covered in frost when I arrived. The falls themselves weren't going off in any big way, and the light was quite uneven, so I didn't even pull my camera out.

From a high rocky perch I glassed the falls for foothill yellow-legged frogs and saw only one. I hope there were plenty more out of sight. 

As I continued down the trail to the lower falls I bonded a little bit with some of the trailside trees.

They seemed happy to have some human company too.

The view of the lower falls in 2008 was considerably less obstructed than it is now.

As you can see, the flow volume, while nice, isn't anything special despite all the rain.

There was lots of serpentine spring beauty in bloom.

This is the view looking back toward Azalea Hill and Mt. Tam from Pine Mountain Fire Road, with spring beauty blooming like crazy just off the trail.

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Chain Fern

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I was looking for something else in my picture files when I noticed a fern I'd photographed last year that was growing on the tip of a small island in the middle of Cataract Creek. Because of its unique location I realized I had just recently photographed the same fern, a giant chain fern (Woodwardia fimbriata). Although I've been a little disappointed at the number and variety of fungi I've seen this year despite all the rain, it's good to see this fern growing back to its full stature. 

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Change of Plans

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I guess it's safe to say that the days are over where I am the only one waiting at the Pantoll Gate for the 7 a.m. opening time. I arrived way too early this morning, but there were already a couple of cars ahead of me. Instead of getting in line I pulled into the Pantoll parking lot and took my coffee for a short stroll along the Matt Davis Trail. Opening time came and went, and a ranger finally came by and said there'd been a mud slide, so the park gate was closed for the duration.

We all drove a short way down toward Bootjack and parked along the side of the road. I headed up toward Rock Spring to do the hike I'd originally planned for the day. I'm not that familiar with the south side of the mountain, but I figured I couldn't go wrong simply by heading up. And up. And up!

No complaints though. It was a beautiful morning.

I couldn't resist taking a picture of the Rock Spring parking lot, still empty on a sunny Saturday morning. That doesn't happen very often.

I hiked out the Simmons Trail toward Barth's Retreat, then detoured onto unmapped trails to reverse a hike I did not too long ago. The throne rock is still there. I'd planned to have a relaxing sit on the throne to take in the view, but the seat was still in cold shade and looked downright uncomfortable, being made of rocks.

I was quite disappointed in the afungular nature of the woods. Today is collecting day for tomorrow's Fungus Fair out in Pt. Reyes, and I can only hope the woods up there are looking a lot more lively than Tam's.

It wasn't too hard to backtrack my last hike. I did veer off the wrong way at one point, but I soon corrected myself and in short order I was in recognizable territory. There was the little meadow in which I'd briefly been snowed on. There were the mossy rocks where I took a rest stop. The big tipi sculpture is still there.

I thought I had the whole mountain to myself until I saw, way off in the distance, a couple of bicyclists riding along Bolinas Ridge. They must have been loving the day with no cars to worry about.

As I began my descent toward Cataract Creek I was surprised to hear human voices. Sure enough, there was some kind of huge hiking group heading toward Laurel Dell. I saw a few more people on the trail as I circled back toward Rock Spring and figured the rangers must have finally opened the gate. 

Nope! The parking lot was still empty, but there were a few hikers here and there, and I ran into some trail runners who'd just cruised up the Old Mine Trail. Besides great lungs and strong thighs, I figure they must have knees of steel, as I was feeling some wear and tear even while descending at a walk.

With another sunny day forecast for tomorrow, I'm thinking another southside hike might be in order. Maybe loop out around West Point Inn or something. Get it while it lasts.

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Treasured Lands

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My copy of Treasured Lands, the magnum opus (more than 20 years in the making) of photographer Q.T. Luong, finally arrived, weighing in at an impressive 7.2 pounds and standing about 10 inches tall by 12.5 inches wide. Its 455 pages dwarfs my 175-page Circumannuation of Mt. Tam. This is one big book!

When I first heard about it I wasn't sure I wanted yet another photography book on the national parks. A couple of things convinced me to take the plunge (unlike Blurb books, this is very reasonably priced, and the reproduction quality is much better). First of all, Treasured Lands covers all 59 U.S. national parks. Second, I love that a lot of QT Luong's work is shot in large format (5x7, if I infer correctly). I am a sucker for large format photography even when it's displayed in the smaller print size of a book as opposed to a gallery wall.

The images are mainly landscapes, frequently photographed in really gorgeous light. You can tell a lot of planning went into the making of these images, and Luong readily shares his hard-won information. Indeed, the book is meant to be a guide as well as a collection of images. Luong shares personal notes about each image, along with trail information and seasonal tips. I'm the kind of photographer who likes to explore places on his own rather than being guided to someone else's special place, but I admit I would be tempted to check out some of these spots. I also liked that he shows some of these parks in more than one season.

Not all of the images in the book were shot with a large format camera, but that doesn't hurt the overall book. In fact, my favorite landscape image was shot from a floating canoe, hand-held, using a 35mm camera (Cedar Creek in Congaree National Park, p. 338). There aren't many wildlife images in the book, but my favorite is a pair of baby owls in a Zion slot canyon (p. 146) that was also shot in 35mm. My only nitpick in this outstanding book is that Luong does not indicate which images were shot in large format. He must have had his reasons for leaving that out since this is a photography book targeted in large part for other photographers.

Treasured Lands is a unique and worthwhile addition to anyone's photography collection. I thumbed my way through the whole thing the first day I got it, then went back several times over about a week to go through it more slowly, the better to savor each impressive image.

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In The Green

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We drove up for a quick nature fix this morning. Pam wanted to do some watercolor painting down by Laurel Dell, but we first wanted to have a look at Cataract Falls. The water is finally flowing more like it ought to in winter. While Pam looked for a good spot to settle down and paint, I poked around the general area to see what I might find. It was nice to just be out in nature and immersed in the green.

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Northside Closure

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Fairfax-Bolinas Road is still closed at Azalea Hill, where I made the image above on a similarly wet February day back in 2010. Carson Falls is another good destination from Azalea Hill.

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Art of Conservation

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I shot this picture in July 1994 during a backpacking trip in the Carson-Iceberg Wilderness. My friend is holding a book called "Deep Ecology" while sitting on the edge of a fire ring in a horse-packer's camp that is overflowing with discarded metal grills and other detritus. We found some of the grills in the fire pit, but many of them had been tossed into the surrounding bushes. It amazed us that people who use horses to pack all their stuff into the wilderness can't be bothered to pack it back out. Shameful behavior from entitled, spoiled people.

I wouldn't load heavy camera gear in my backpack to hike into wilderness areas and photograph the ugliness left by hunters, horse-packers, cattle-ranchers and cows, and until I encountered the idea of "eco-porn" I never did. Eco-porn is basically a derisive term used for nature photography that people like to look at. It's the images that sustain the illusion that all is well "out there" somewhere beyond the teeming hives of civilization. But of course it's not just pristine nature out there. All the natural resources required to sustain civilization are extracted from out there. All the crap we throw away gets tossed out there. 

One day we're going to use it all up, which is why we're so interested in mining other planets, moons, asteroids. We know we're going to use up this beautiful Earth. Whether we can protect enough wild places from our insatiable needs and desires until we come to our senses remains to be seen, but it's worth maintaining the effort even when it seems to be going against the odds.

Sometimes a little bit of the wild shows its resilience even in the city I live in, but I'm glad I still have access to wilder lands without having to travel too far. If I bring my camera along on those weekend excursions, I will not attempt to document the man-made crap I find (or dog-made, left in bags along the trails). I will not ignore it, but I won't let it ruin the one day a week that I have to commune with nature and share my vision of the wild through the art of photography. My work is self-expression through an art form, and maybe some people would call it eco porn since it isn't directed toward a conservation goal. But I hope I'm not contributing to a false sense of security. All of the protected natural lands in which I do photography were fought for. The lands are enjoyed by everyone, but they were won by conservationists. 

In any event, the idea of "eco porn" was a wake-up call for nature photographers. The International League of Conservation Photographers (iLCP) was formed just a short while ago, in 2005. I'm glad there are so many professional nature photographers now working, like other well-known photographers before them, for conservation goals, producing compelling images of what we still have left "out there." Even so, let's all contribute what we can to the art of conservation.

(P.S. Thanks go to Ed Hamrick at Vuescan for helping me get my old scanner fired up! I bought a license back in 2002, and Ed still had the receipt info I should have kept myself. The scanner drivers are built right into the software, and it now runs 64-bit. Sweet!)

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Wowed By Nature

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The February 2017 issue of Lenswork opens with an editorial inspired by Brooks Jensen's encounter with a gallery owner in New York who was dismissive of landscape photography. Apparently there's even a pejorative acronym going around--ARAT--for "Another Rock, Another Tree."

I was thinking about that as I poked around among the rocks and trees along Lagunitas Creek. I thought of several possible explanations for the attitude of those gallery owners, but in the end I figure they are business people, and if they don't have a ready market or can't figure out how to create a taste for landscape photography, they are going to blame the artwork.

Interestingly, Brooks Jensen does much the same thing. Even though the gallery owner snubbed him and sniffed at Lenswork as being a ghetto of landscape photography, he nevertheless blames photographers for missing the mark. I imagine the dismissive gallery owner feeling a sense of satisfaction for inducing such self-flagellation.

"Cameras make wonderful copy machines," Jensen writes. "but if that's all they do, the resulting photographs may not rise to the level of art.... Art is something you make, not something you merely record." After delivering this scolding he writes that an artistic image is "unique," "wonderful," "insightful," and "inspiring."

However, even if the photograph possesses all of those attributes, the gallery owner who can't sell it is still going to dismiss it. All those qualities that make an image "art" are subjective. An image that moves you might not move the person standing next to you. A landscape image that connects you to an inner sense of what is simultaneously beautiful and sad about life might make the person standing next to you yawn. The image of a moment captured in time might suddenly bond you to the eternal stillness deep within your own being, while the person next to you looks at you like you're nuts.

In the editorial, Brooks does defend the aesthetic of landscape photography, writing, "It's not the rock nor the tree that are important, but the meaning, the expression, the connection that counts." This isn't the first time I've heard such sentiment, and I couldn't disagree more. The rock and the tree are crucial. If you're out there with the idea that the landscape and all the living beings, seen and unseen, that occupy it--all the movements of wind and water, of energy from the sun and nourishment from the soil--are unimportant, why bother? And if you are just copy machine who nevertheless makes the gallery owners go "Wow!" over you, are you an artist?

My wife was telling me about a middle-school student who is bereft over being rejected for admission to San Francisco's School of the Arts. I hope that student is able to remain true to her artistic self when she enters a high school full of people who yawn an art, or who turn away from art they can't make money on. Hopefully that student will find a few sympatico friends and even a grown-up or two who can help her keep that lamp lit and bring out her inner mounting flame.

When I look at the image at the top of this post, I see an exuberant chaos of life that nevertheless embodies a compositional order that I can only discover for myself, and which gives me profound joy. In all the years I've been publishing this blog, I have been trying to share my sense of being wowed by nature, and also to spark that recognition, that mysterious conjunction of outside and inside, that makes art out of rocks and trees--and thee.

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Storm Wrack

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I tried to drive out around the north side of Mt. Tam this morning, but Fairfax-Bolinas Road is closed again. There must have been more storm damage -- and so soon after they reopened the route! They were closed for months last time, and the closure this time begins in the same place, up by the Azalea Hill parking lot. 

I turned around and went for a drive along Lagunitas Creek, making a pit stop at the Cronin Fish Viewing Area. I crossed the street to check out the Ink Wells and almost went back for my camera. I couldn't quite get the angle I wanted, though, so I just took a brain picture. Sorry I can't share it. I did not see any salmon splashing up the falls or anything like that. Just a lovely scene that was a bit too cluttered in the foreground.

I continued past Sam Taylor Redwoods and was struck by the beauty of the forest along the creek. There's often nowhere to pull over at such times, but this time I was able to park at Devil's Gulch and walk a short way back along the road until I found a place to drop down to the creek. I followed a set of raccoon tracks in the sand and stopped to make a few photographs. You can see the big dam of flood debris in this image and the one above it (the lower image is cropped from the upper one). Note the debarking of the standing alders. That'll give you an idea how high the creek flooded.

I didn't go far upstream because this nice open area soon morphed under a darker tree canopy.

This buckeye seed was rooting into very shallow soil on a boulder patched with lichen, moss and polypody. It would be interesting to check up on it again in a few months to see how it fares.

Just as I was about to cut away from the creek and up to the road I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. It was a deer skull with only one antler still attached and most of its flesh peeled off. It's grisly business to get caught in a flood. Hopefully this buck was already dead when it got swept away.

I took this selfie just to make my wife jealous. She is the one who found this huge bay laurel in Bear Valley, and it instantly became one of her favorite trees. Mine too. In the fenced field behind the visitor center I scouted for badgers to no avail, but counted twenty-four deer browsing in the grass. Closer to the visitor center building, over by the electric car charging area, there were more quail than I could count, either pecking along the ground or sunning themselves on the wooden fenceposts.

Although I did stop at the tree, I wasn't really in the mood to do a whole Pt. Reyes thing without my wife, so I circled back toward Mt. Tam and drove up Bolinas-Fairfax Road. Chilly offshore winds were howling over the ridge, and I scouted in vain for bobcats or coyotes. I parked to take a walk in the woods and spotted this little banana slug pushed up against some mushrooms. It sensed my presence and seemed in no hurry to actually start feeding, so I took a quick photo and continued on my way. When I finally returned to the car maybe a half-hour later, the slug was about two inches away from the apparently uneaten mushrooms (I didn't check the gills, which is the part slugs often relish). Life in the fast lane.

This toothed jelly fungus was just about the only fungus I saw on my little walk. This guy is probably about an inch tall. It's not super-wet up there despite all the rain. I'm disappointed that I couldn't get a look at Alpine Lake to see if it's full. Last time I was there (Nov. 20), the bathtub ring was at least twenty feet high.

Here's a crop of the jelly fungus showing its teeth. They have been known to bite, so they should always be treated with care. I was surprised as I continued my walk to have my trail crossed by a group of four women who didn't know where they were or where they were going. They were just having a ball, out exploring. I told them the road was one way, the creek the other, and they charged off toward the creek.

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