Why would anyone take a black and white photo of the famous Red Rocks? Well, there must be a zillion color pictures of this very spot, but this is the only black and white one I've seen. Truthfully, I think the clouds are what make it special. It's hard to take a bad picture in Sedona, color or otherwise. I took this photo while mountain biking with friends; this was one of the stops on my cross-country train journey.
The mesa in the background resembles the American southwest, but the fairy chimneys—the cones in the foreground—make you think you're on another planet. Welcome to Cappadocia, a magical region in the center of Turkey. People have been digging caves, churches, and homes in this region's soft volcanic tufa for thousands of years. The room I slept in for four nights was actually dug into the bottom of a hill; it was a perfect place to catch a long nap after the arduous overnight bus trip from Istanbul to the small town of Göreme.
This is a popular swimming hole in Hamilton Preserve, about 30 miles west of Austin, Texas. There is a deep, semicircular grotto behind a 45-foot waterfall, and this photo is shot from inside the grotto. It's rare that you see young boys simply lounging around, especially when there's splashing and rock-skipping to be done. But I'm glad they were there, because this picture is really more about them than the waterfall itself. For me, this photo evokes the ultimate in relaxation and freedom from responsibility.
I was living at the Black Range Lodge when I took this picture. I forget if this was Christmas Day or the day after, but I remember that there was a huge family staying at the lodge to celebrate the holidays. We didn't get much snow that winter, so everyone was thrilled to have a white blanket on everything this day. Off in the distance is a tiny straw-bale house, which you wouldn't know if I didn't tell you.
This was taken the same day as the photo above. Barbed wire fence seems to be everywhere in New Mexico, but this particular stretch is the border of the Gila National Forest. The fence is there not to keep people out, but to keep cows in. Until very recently, ranchers were allowed to graze their cattle on this particular piece of public land, much to the detriment of the plant life. Public lands ranching is an extremely controversial subject in the Southwest, and I am only showing the tip of the iceberg here.
Emory Pass is the on-road route over the Black Range Mountains between Kingston and Silver City, New Mexico. (Kingston is the little strip of dirt visible in the valley at the low center of the photo.) At 8,228 feet, Emory Pass is the highest point for cross-country cyclists taking the route between San Diego, California and Saint Augustine, Florida. Many cross-country cyclists stayed at Kingston's Black Range Lodge while I was there, and I personally cooked dozens of sourdough waffles for them before their next day's ride.
This is the morning view facing east from Inn Serendipity in Browntown, Wisconsin. Or maybe it's the evening view, facing west. I honestly don't remember, and it's difficult to tell from the photo. I'm pretty sure it's the sunrise. In every direction there are either hundreds of acres of corn, or hundreds of acres of soybeans. Obviously, this picture is all about the clouds.
I lived in a tent in the woods for five months while I worked on a straw-bale house, and I walked by this stump every day on the way to and from my tent. I always liked it, and named it "ol' stumpy" at some point. Eventually the sun's angle was such that it bathed the stump in beautiful light at about 8 in the morning, and one day I brought my camera down the trail and captured ol' stumpy for posterity.
I'm not sure what it was about this log that made me stop to take its picture. Maybe that it was missing a perfectly shaped wedge? Or perhaps the serpentine grain structure? I still don't know. What do you think?
Just about every set of photos from the redwoods includes at least one shot from this perspective. This one is special to me because, well, I was there. My friend Boo Radley and I camped for 3 nights among the redwoods, and the third night we slept without tents under the shelter of this tree. It was a truly magical experience.
This fallen redwood was within a hundred feet of the tree in the picture above. I could go on about the circle of life, how little redwoods were growing out of their fallen ancestor, etc. But really, I just saw it on the side of the trail and thought it looked cool. I wonder how it got so flat on top?
This is shot from a bridge on New York's Route 8, the legendary shortcut between the center of the state and the Champlain Valley. I've driven this route many times, and this spot isn't far from where I got my first and only speeding ticket when I was 19. I think this photo shows the stark dreariness that can set in towards the end of Adirondack winters.
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