Mammoth Hot Springs at Yellowstone National Park

Besides the steam rolling in the atmosphere, this large stone formation is the first thing one sees when arriving at Mammoth Hot Springs.  Many of these formations stood hundreds of feet tall in the river beds and deep canyons.

Past the rock is Artist's Palette, which is a colorful formation of algae growing on the mineral deposits that are melted by the hot water and pushed up to the surface of the Earth.  The hot water streams are way beneath the ground and it takes a great deal of heat to melt the hard calcium.

Closer in, one can see the different rivers of color and the crusty texture of the delicate surface.  Dead trees add to the interest of this landscape and become the dead amongst the new living.

As a photographer, every shot leads to a different angle and a different crop.  There are no finite numbers of compositions in these mounds and pools.

And, occasionally, the wildlife add to the landscape of the hot springs and even run off some of the photographers that might be in their way.  As is the case of this young bull elk when he decided to join me on the boardwalk, while I was on my belly and shooting in the opposite direction.  My shooting partner had the wits about him to shoot the entire episode and to not warn me before the elk was about two feet away and staring me down.  Pretty crazy being two feet away from an elk and to have him keep advancing on you!  I obviously didn't have time to shoot the event.

The steam rising above the hot springs and into the deep blue sky, added a sense of mystery to the mounds and pools.

This tiny little pool was gurgling and spouting and I became fascinated at trying to capture the bubble of water coming out of the earth.

I guess that anyone who has been away from Yellowstone for many decades would not know what to expect upon their return.  My childhood memories consisted of the black bears walking up to the car window and asking for handouts, and of a landscape my child's eye could not grasp - nothing more that was good.

I didn't know if the country's first national park would be so commercialized that the roadside animals would be sitting around in cages, or if any of it would still be wild.  Much to my surprise, this park has been well maintained to suit the wildlife, as well as the visitors.

One hears about Old Faithful but to tell the truth I did not think about geysers and hot springs before my arrival with Jersey Boy, a photographer friend who'd never seen the wilds of the West.  But as we entered the park and began to notice shapes of elk and bison dotted on the landscape, there was also these large, orange mounds with steam rising from them.  Shooting steam fascinates me, particularly when I combine it with colors of orange and aqua blue.

Rivers of color everywhere and with every shot was another one.  Starting out wide and working my way in to capture the abstract formations of something I did not understand.  It is difficult to not be fascinated and curious by what one might imagine as a moon type landscape.  Small craters of water bubbling and running, steam rising and blowing over, or away from us.  The smiles of people that walked the boardwalk for a closer look.  Everyone had the look of awe and amazement.  Almost like they'd discovered a secret and we were the only ones who got to see it.  A complete respect for this new type of nature.

We spent a great deal of time at the hot springs on the first day and are glad that we did because against a grey sky and without the wonderful morning light, they are not so interesting.  Not to photograph anyway.

Afterwards we did a loop around the northern half of the park, stopping to see a bland by comparison, Old Faithful, waterfalls, landscape, some grizzly bears and cubs, a black bear, elk, bison and birds.  Silent in my mind, I noticed the perfectly shaped cones of the mountains and contemplated the volcanic activity that must be strong in the pocket of that universe.  Only the area along Yellowstone Lake, with its tall stand of trees that were older than most because of the many fires, was uninteresting.

For being wildlife photographers, and of course enjoying every encounter with a wild beast, except when they were attacking us, we seemed to be most in awe of the hot springs, smaller geysers and pools.  There was no line of black bears at the entrance, waiting for chunks of Wonder Bread.  There was much more than one young little mind could've have ever comprehended and retained all those years ago, particularly now because those memories exist only in the form of black and white photographs.  

I've only scratched the surface of Yellowstone National Park and plan to return every Spring and Fall that it is possible to do so.  The babies in the Spring and the Rut against the backdrop of bright yellow Aspen trees in the Fall.  Now that is a dream plan for every nature photographer and one that is played out by many others each year.

Where the Buffalo Roam by Deby Dixon

Bison scattered along Lamar Valley in Yellowstone National Park

And sometimes up close and personal along the roadway

And in the roadway, creating endless traffic jams and photo ops

Baby Bison resting amongst the sagebrush near Mammoth

This bison ran the coyote off so that they could have a moment of silence for their fallen friend

Everywhere in Yellowstone National Park, the buffalo roamed

And so did the wildlife photographers...

The sun rose behind a full night of driving as we sped home from Yellowstone National Park for a 6:30 a.m. flight out of Spokane.  My shooting buddy heading back to New Jersey and me, back to school.

When my friend, Tom, told me that the babies were wandering around Yellowstone and that this was the second best time to be there for photography, I didn't know what we would find.  Musings about wishes to find wildlife and would they be there in sight or would we have to hike off deep into the forest to find them.  More than anything was the excitement of the unknown.

I didn't realize that "Jersey Boy" had never experienced the landscape of the west and was quite amused by what I termed, his "drive by shooting."  He oohed and ahed over the mountains, the sky, the clouds, and everything else that crossed our path.  I pretended not to be impressed but the truth is I've never quit being in awe of our landscape.

There was no shortage of wildlife in the park and the photo ops were endless.  From early morning until after dark each day, we roamed and shot, filling endless gigs on flash cards and bogging down our computer hard drives when we returned at night.  Sleep, some eating, driving, shooting, downloading, a few edits and crashing, were our days and there were no complaints, just desires for more.

On the last day, we'd planned to make one last, quick trip into the park before heading towards home at around noon but bison, elk, bears, antelope, coyotes and moose kept popping up along Lamar Valley, along with other enthusiastic photographers.  The sun was once again setting when we finally headed west and back to our real lives.

Now, it is time to play catch-up, as deadlines loom near but the excitement of wildlife and landscape photography in the country's first national park, still dance in the crevasses of my being.

Secret Waters at Lilliwaup, WA by Deby Dixon

Lilliwaup Falls

Shadows and moss upon the narrow walkway into another world

The gated entrance to Lilliwaup Falls

Boy and girl playing next to the stream

Around the curve, under the old tree to the falls

The sprays of freshly melted snow

I romanticize the discovery of secret water dancing deep in the forest, spilling over rocks worn smooth from the continual caress of its cold freshness.

I'm made of fire and burn with it from deep inside and so my love of fresh, clear water has always been a mystery.  As a child, once I learned to hold my breath and go under, my parents rarely saw me on the lake's surface.  A splotch of blonde, a thin wiry body and the flip of tiny, white toes, leaving behind only a splash and a ripple for mom to see.  I prided myself in how long I could hold my breath and search for treasure along the bottom, or simply swim  and feel like the wild wind was whipping through my hair.

Last weekend I had a chance to see the hidden waterfall in Lilliwaup, Washington - the same one that local residents have been waiting years to see - and so ventured behind a tall wooden gate that I'd never seen before and walked the thin narrow plank into another world.

A winding stream running under a bridge, past a house, another bridge, and curving before the old large tree that bends upon the water's surface.  At the end, falling over tall cliffs that formed a bowl, was Lilliwaup Falls running strong from the spring runoff of melting snow.  The crashing and roaring of wetness never-ending - a sound that I could listen to forever, in sleep and while awake.  Small birds chirping and darting from the old tree and skimming for bugs.

As I made my way closer to the waterfall I could smell the forest freshness of newly melted snow as sprays covered my face and camera lens.  Bright green moss danced over dark edges, and evergreens on the cliff glowed in the brightness of sunlight.  Small ferns protruded from rocks and large smooth stones tumbled beneath my feet.  I crouched beside a steep wall, beneath bare limbs that came from somewhere up above, unable to hear myself breathe, and adjusted the ISO, the f-stop and the light meter on my Nikon D700, in hopes of some slow-exposure action in the water and wishing that my tripod wasn't in the car.

Others around me, were holding their breath and walking silently, as if they were afraid of breaking the secret spell, while trying to capture their own vision of the beauty that surrounded us.  Adults stood and admired the scene in its entirety, while talking amongst one another, and dogs lapped at the water.  Two small children playing at the stream's edge, throwing a long stick for the black labrador retriever that patiently awaited their movements.  

I made my way back towards the tree, the curve, the bridges and that tall wooden gate, stopping for images at every turn, and out into the world beyond the hidden falls.

Frustrated Photographer Syndrome

Sandy, you are are shooting in the wrong direction...

The girls are much cuter...

      

Oh look, there is still a bird left on Fernan Lake!

And a mad one in Harrison!

Just some random guy standing on a remote country road with his horse...

And double trouble on Fernan

Deby, it is snowing, don't you think it is time to go home?

Friday afternoon, while sitting in class, my friend Sandy called and said that she had the rest of the day off and was heading towards Fernan Lake to shoot the Osprey.  For a change it was me, stuck behind a desk, when there was blue sky and bulging bright white cumulus clouds adding depth to the landscape, while my friend went out shooting.  Suddenly I knew how she felt.

Still, when class was over I realized that it was "frustrated photographer syndrome" that I was suffering from and that it could be a deadly disease.  I hadn't shot anything, in what seemed like weeks - not anything worth my while - and this feeling of desperation threatened to choke me.  I'd been out on Fernan that morning, before class, but nothing was going on.  So, as I drove down I-90, my D700 rested on the steering wheel while I punched the shutter button.  That was interesting.

And, back out at Fernan, after being tied up in construction traffic for more than 30 minutes, there were no birds, or ones that were cooperating.  I went home and decided that it was best to concentrate on school work anyway.  That is until Sandy emailed and asked if I wanted to go shooting on Saturday morning.  YES!  Getting out into nature and practicing my photography, feeds my soul.  It is like drinking water and breathing air.  I had to go and like Sandy says, "It's my thing."

We headed East, down to Rose Lake in Idaho and took the road to Harrison, stopping to shoot elk and birds along the way.  The days was psycho, going from sunshine, to clouds, to rain and finally to mushy snow.  It was cold and warm but we rarely seemed to notice, particularly when the horses began running in the pasture.  Both of us are hungry for some frolicking equine photography.  The man with the horses was polite and allowed us to shoot him and his horse.  

By Harrison, it was raining, which meant it was time for lunch.

"The rain will be gone by the time we are through," I told her.

And it was.

Onto Osprey and Eagles, fast flowing streams and back to the Heron on Fernan.  My hunger fed for the time being.  One thing is certain though, with my new busy schedule, "frustrated photographer's syndrome," will raise its head, probably lasting until it is no longer possible for to raise the camera and push the shutter.

Calling all Birds with an iPhone

Photo Story laid out with inDesign

(revised)