The White Forest

Winter slammed Central Oregon as hard as any day this winter. Right up front here I'll apologize for being on the weather theme for another day, however, it was only late in the afternoon as I was working on a book project for Diane when I made the effort to get out of the house and out into the the thick of it. Snow, unlike rain in Sacramento that disappears down a storm drain, is simply beautiful. It stays around and dresses the trees in fluffy gowns and, when the wind is benign, a magical calm occurs in the forest. Highway 20 west of Sisters was closed for avalanches on Santiam Pass and the only traffic heading toward the roadblock was the locals going home to Black Butte Ranch or Camp Sherman. Hello February, the quiet month.

Getting out, white-out.

This winter has not disappointed those in the area who love the snow. Since my trip last week up Gobbler Knob the sun hasn't been seen much. It's continued to be cold and snowy. Today was rougher than days past. Trucks were stopped just outside town taking off tire chains after making it over Santiam Pass as the snow and wind turned the scene into a white-out within a few minutes. Just an hour before I was in a cycling spin class at the Sisters Athletic Club looking out the window and there wasn't any snow falling. The Cascades have a major effect on storms and once over the crest of the range the full fury is unleashed. It's ironic that I now describe weather events in the area when I detested the amount of newsprint and manpower that my former employer used on a daily basis to report the same thing. I chuckle to myself but keep shooting knowing that I can't photograph scenics or weather exclusively (many photogs around here do). I am working on a project that involves people, however, it's not appropriate to post them yet. For now then, the winter scenes are beautiful and I photograph with my inner purpose of documenting whatever happens as I move on in my life.

Gobbler's Knob

Temperature, -2º. No wind, so being out actually is not uncomfortable as Brent McGregor and I tromp through the hard crusty snow up a small hill known to some locals as " Gobbler's Knob." I can't tell from being there why it's callled that. Suffice to say that it's the best view of the mountains within 30 minutes of my front door. Our purpose for going out was to watch the full moon set over the Cascades but a low cloud bank scuttled that. To the east, however, was a magnificent sunrise and to the south of the clouds Mt. Washington glowed in the early alpenglow. I've slept late many mornings this winter, so getting out at 6:30am, seeing a new place in the neighborhood, and being back in the comfort of a warm living room by 8:30am is a great start to the day.

A small adventure

With a series of winter storms passed, sunny days have pervaded over central Oregon. Although temperatures aren't much more than low 40's, yesterday was a day to get out of the house and overcome that creeping sensation of cabin fever. My friend, Brent McGregor, invited me to go out on his snowmobile in the late afternoon to photograph the sunset from Big Lake located on the crest of the Cascades. The lake is frozen solid and provides access and views impossible in other seasons unless you're sitting in a boat. The adventure was on. Some background on Brent and his snowmobile: Brent is an fantastic woodworker (juniper is his specialty), seasoned mountaineer, and exquisite landscape photographer. On a recent trip to Canada he was offered a 30-year-old snowmobile for $200. He gladly bought it thinking he could use it to get to places in the winter, normally inaccessible or, at best, extremely time consuming to photograph the wondrous Cascades. I know nothing about snowmobiles and I was intrigued by going out to Big Lake. I'd never get there in winter on my own. The lake is about 2+ miles from a parking area near the summit of Santiam Pass, one of the major routes over the Cascades. We packed a sled behind the snowmobile with our photo gear and headed off. It was immediately apparent that snowmobile technology has evolved tremendously as newer and faster machines with much wider ski base passed us with ease on the groomed trail to the lake. Our ride was meandering and at one point where the track was slightly angled we made a slow-motion rollover, losing nothing but a small bit of pride. Once out onto the lake we got what we came for. Magnificent views of Mt. Washington and Three-Fingered Jack. The unexpected bonus was a layer of mist on the lake from an inversion layer that acted as a diffusion filter. The alpenglow light on Three-Fingered Jack was mesmerizing. We repacked the sled and headed back across the lake and then the rest of the adventure began. A footnote: my definition of adventure is a "well-planned trip gone bad." Brent and I have each experienced that more than once. As soon as the snowmobile made it to the edge of the lake, the engine sputtered, smoked and quit. No amount of coaxing or minor repairs could get the engine running. Our good fortune, however, was the appearance of two other men on their machines from the youth bible camp on the other side of the lake who were out for a twilight run. They offered their mechanical knowledge to no avail and watched the final indignity when Brent pulled the starter rope and it snapped off in his hand. There is an unwritten pact among snowmobilers, so we're told, that you help out anyone in need. And they did. Brent took the nylon cord used to lash the gear to the sled and made a tow rope. One of our rescuers towed Brent and the sled and I rode on the second machine back to the cars in the darkness. On the way back to Sisters we could laugh about the experience. You can do that when everything turns out o.k. The situation could have been far more unpleasant. Although we had snowshoes, the trek out on foot would have been tortuous for me on my feeble knees. We are grateful to the two guys who saved our butts.

Sir Edmund Hillary, 1919-2008

Namaste,
Sir Edmund Hillary, the man who made the first ascent of Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world, died today. He was 88. I never met him and yet he still he had a major influence on the course of my life. Certainly he had had that effect on countless numbers of people, many who more vastly benefited by his accomplishments as a mountaineer and humanitarian. When he and Tenzing Norgay, his Nepalese Sherpa, became the first to climb Mt. Everest in 1953 the face of mountaineering changed forever. No summit anywhere was impossible. The feat was celebrated throughout the world and I learned of it through radio and National Geographic magazine. My parents, fenced in by their Protestant and dutiful lives of post World War II, did not notice the achievement, however, they did subscribe to to the NGS magazine. I know that my mother, who always yearned to see more than north Denver, mandated the magazine's monthly arrival in our mailbox. When the issue describing Hillary and Norgay's ascent of Everest arrived, I read it over and over began to look at maps of Nepal and the Himalayas. I memorized the heights of the 10 highest peaks in the range and dreamed of the day I would set foot in Nepal and see for myself the biggest mountain range on Earth. In the ensuing years I developed a deep love of geography and wild places. My father took me fishing with him on our family vacations in western Colorado, and no pun intended, I was hooked. I was a student in the first Outward Bound School course in North America in 1962 and then an instructor in 1971 after my Peace Corps tour of duty.

Yes, I did get to Nepal. In 1970 I trekked up the Kali Gandaki valley through Jomsom and Muktinath and back to Pokhara. The views of Annapurna and Dhaulagiri were mesmerizing. I never got on a Himalayan expedition and quite frankly my mountaineering career was unremarkable. I continued to climb in Colorado and Wyoming with my old climbing partner, George Bracksieck in the 70's. When I moved to Louisvlle, KY my climbing went dormant. There was a brief resurgence in 1989 through 1991 when I had opportunities during my book project to climb on El Cap and Lost Arrow Spire in Yosemite. I will always remember those nights in my Denver home reading with awe about Hillary and Norgay on Everest. I was even more entranced with the accounts of the American Everest Expedition in 1963, especially the astounding West Ridge ascent by Willi Unsoeld and Tom Hornbein. Geography, adventure, exploring the world through photojournalism, for me, all began with Sir Edmund Hillary. Thank you, thank you, Sir.

Winter absolutely

The holidays are done. Some of our neighbors have packed their mobile homes and headed south. The "year-rounders" remain and most are excited with the prospect of more snow. "Bring it on," deeper is better" they say. This is a mind-set I'm not used to hearing coming from a place where the worst winter weather flowed out through storm drains. Yea, I grew up in Colorado, spent years in the Ohio valley where cold clammy winters weren't unusual so I'm still getting used to the concept that people here are invigorated by the forecast of big snowfall. January doldrums? Not here. Central Oregon was spared the wrath of the recent storms that pummeled California. Tonight may be a different story. Snowshoeing, cross-country and downhill skiing discussions are overheard in the grocery store checkout lines. There may be ominous skies overhead but there is optimism in the air.

Resolutions

New Year's resolutions are, for the most part, ephemeral. Like a hickory wind they blow in with hope tinged with an underlying truth that not much will change. Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers and Bowflex dangle personality carrots to entice their potential customers. The regular list of resolutions always include better relationships with family and friends, financial gain, and a more diligent pursuit of health and happiness. For those of you who know me, including a few skeptics, the issue that has dominated my personal and professional quality of life, is my arthritic knees. In the past five years the contest has been between the gradual deterioration to the total absence of knee cartilage and my efforts to minimize the discomfort and pain with meds and exercise. Cycling has saved my knees thus far yet the eventual outcome was always going to be total knee joint replacements; it was simply a matter of when I felt that surgical risks would be worth a greatly improved life style. That decision occurred rather nonchalantly at a New Year's Eve dinner party with friends as we talked about the special things we want to do, rafting through the Grand Canyon being at the top of our lists. I want to fully enjoy that experience and two good knees are as imperative as a good boatman. I realized that I'm tired of talking about the pros and cons of waiting another two or three years. Today I scheduled the surgeries for both knees this year, June and October. My New Year's resolution is to become bionic. How often does one get to do that?

My favorite images from 2007

The Amgen cycling Tour of California zipped through Davis, CA in February and it marked the end of my 20-year tenure at the Sacramento Bee. In May I documented the Sacramento Ballet on it's first-ever foreign tour to Shanghai and Beijing, China. As soon as I returned home Diane retired from the University of California at Davis and a great party was held in her honor by her colleagues. Her three sisters came for the event but it was the unannounced arrival of her brother Bill that completely surprised her. After our move to Oregon we attended another surprise 50th birthday party in Portland for Randy Olson, then to Louisville, KY in July for Jesse and Carmen's wedding. They visited us in September with Alton and we took a a "little tyke" hike on the Metolius River. The dramatic weather changed in October and through the end of the year and photographing that was fascinating.

Flutograph

Got a flu shot in October. Got the flu today. No sympathy necessary. I've got nowhere to go, snow is piling up outside and there is non-stop football on t.v. This too shall pass.

Enchanted forest

The Monday morning snowstorm subsided leaving a blanket of pristine powder. Allison and I drove out to Camp Sherman and along the Metolius River. The wind in the trees kept blowing the snow off the branches and with the sunlight filtering through to the forest floor the scenes were magnificent. I'm still getting used to the fact that I live in an area where the environment is in constant flux. I was hoping to photograph the full moon and got up very early for two days only to have the cloud cover obscure everything. Yesterday was the reward for perseverance. Here's to a Merry Christmas from central Oregon.

White Christmas

Snow has arrived for Christmas. Allison came from Sacramento yesterday and was disappointed that it was only raining so she is excited this morning waking and looking out to the white forest from her upstairs bedroom. Last night was the annual cookie baking event. Several of the cookies were unaccounted for and presumed lost in the operation. We are going out later this afternoon on a photo expedition. Allison is taking a photography class and will get an individual tutoring session.

Winter solstice

After leaving a friend's home last night following a winer solstice dinner I couldn't resist grabbing the Canon 5D and a wide angle lens to make a photograph of the night sky. The moon is not full until the 24th though the photograph makes it appear full. I had plans to go out this morning to photograph the moon setting over the Cascades from a spot called Cline Buttes. However, in the 5 hours since I made this image the clouds rolled in and obscured the sky. If you want to see the picture larger just click on it and it opens up.

Songs of the season

Photo by Henry Dilz
The holiday season brings out all the traditional symbols including all the music you only hear during this time of year. My head and heart have been full of songs but not "Silent Night," I'll Be Home For Christmas," or..., well you know them all. Instead, I'm hearing all the songs of Dan Folgelberg, the singer and songwriter who produced twenty great albums from 1972 to 2003. The leader of the "soft rock" generation died last Sunday at his home after battling prostate cancer. He was 56. I've been playing all his songs constantly for the past few days to hear the quiet simplicity of his voice and the eloquent lyrics that still choke me up. I'm saddened again as I was when other music artists I've enjoyed over the years have died too early: John Lennon, George Harrison, Jim Croce, John Denver and Kate Wolf. I wanted to hear them write and sing about the changes in their lives as they got older and wiser in order to help me along my own aging path. What we are left with though is no small gift. The music of Dan Fogelberg and all the past great artists is there to hear anytime and the truths in the songs will not change. Unfortunately, there is no season especially for the musicians I think of as kindred souls. This year "fa la la la la" and "pa rumpa pa pum" don't resonate. I prefer this song in particular to describe this season of music for me:




"Only The Heart May Know," a duet with Emmylou Harris:

Silent sea
Tell this to me:
Where are the children that we used to be?
Silent sea:
At picture shows
Where nobody goes
And only the heart can see.
Starry skies
Soft lullabies
Where do they go when their melodies die?
Starry skies:
To a day
Far, far away
That only the heart may know.
Friends we knew
Follow us through
All of the days of our lives
Love we shared
Waits for us there
Where our wishes forever reside.
Falling tears
Memories' mirrors
Where are summers
Oh, where are the years?
Falling tears:
Carried far
To a wandering star
That only the heart may know.
Friends we knew
Follow us through
All of the days of our lives
Love we shared
Waits for us there
Where our wishes forever reside.
Starry skies
Soft lullabies
Where do they go when their melodies die?
To a day
Far, far away
That only the heart may know.

Thanks Dan.

Dancing with the clouds

I live in a Ponderosa forest, the sweet spot between the juniper covered high desert and the Cascade mountains. The majestic peaks are just out of view for the most part. I can walk out to a spot on the road bordering my home where a peek-a-boo view of North Sister is sometimes visible. So, if I really want to see the mountains I have to get out and away from the trees. Today, I had some errands in town and on the way in (all of three miles) I could see the cloud and mountain dance in full swing. I turned around, returned home, got the cameras, and headed out to a location I know to watch an approaching storm front from the northwest make it's way over the peaks. Three-Fingered Jack on the north, Mt. Washington, then North, South and Middle Sister and Broken Top on the southern end of the panorama dealt with the clouds in their own way. Diane has been suggesting I get out to photograph the mountains for several days and I kept saying that although they were striking with blue skies the visual potential wasn't there yet. No drama in the sky. Today the grandeur of Central Oregon reminds me once again of the special place I live.

Sixteen years of holiday images

I began making personalized holiday greeting cards to send to family and friends in 1992. I had a good selection of seasonal photographs from Yosemite National Park since completing my book "Yosemite, A Landscape of Life" in 1990 and I continued to add to that body of work over the next few years. For the 1999 card I chose a photograph from a Sacramento Ballet performance of the Nutcracker and entitled it "Dancing With Glee Into The 21st Century." So far it has been the only image of people. Some years have been hard to select an image, mainly due to my old residence in Sacramento where winter doesn't look very nice. A rare snow event in the Sacramento Valley saved the 2003 edition. Diane accompanied me on a snowmobile for the 2000 and 2001 photos and also alerted me to the incredible rainbow which became the 2004 image. Allison was with me for the 2005 and 2006 pictures made near our home here in Sisters. The moody image of Mt. Jefferson above the fog was quite unusual as the region was covered in an ice-fog but for just a moment the clouds moved and the mountain was visible. This year's photo was another lucky break when the geese became airborne as I approached the flock with my camera. The process of making the cards has become one of the most pleasant parts of the holidays for me and now that I live where future images will be easier to find I'm excited about continuing the tradition. To see larger images of all sixteen photographs move your mouse pointer over the lower right-hand corner of the slide show and click on the link to the Picasa web album. Happy Holidays to all!

The holiday cat

The tree is up and our little wild one lost no time in claiming the apron as the new best place in the house to hang out. I think I need to get out of the house more regularly.

Goodbye little friend

Our oldest cat, Gracie, a companion for 16+ years, has been in the final stage stages of her life in recent months. Although she would have hung on, we knew it was time and did not want her to suffer. Our littlest friend is gone.

Gracie came into my life in 1991 in Sacramento when I found her at an animal shelter while on a "pet of the week" photo assignment. She was 10 weeks old and all gray so I didn't know she'd turn out to be a calico. I named her "Gracie."

Gracie was always as much Allison's cat as mine. She loved to sleep on Allison's bed throughout the day and kept her company while she did her homework. Gracie was quite playful in her early years and constantly tolerated my playing "cat hat" with her. When we acquired our other cats, Noire and Puss, she became somewhat jealous and mischievous. It was her way to tell us she was the queen of the house and we'd best not forget it.

It is hard to see an animal decline in health knowing the outcome. The vet looked at her and said we were right in our decision. We held her and stroked her head and ears as we said farewell. We kept telling her she was a good kitty.

Cute sweet Gracie, you are in our thoughts and memories tonight and forever.

A minor anniversary

Six months ago on a hot June morning we unloaded the 26' U-Haul and the cat-transporting Subaru at our new home. A long list of home repairs are completed, we've entertained visitors and family, traveled a bit and now enter the holiday season grateful to be here. Our home is comfortable and peaceful. Stringing the lights in sub-freezing temperatures, however, was a bit challenging. Such is life in a four-season environment.



One of the predominant factors of life in Central Oregon is the weather, like it or not. In summer there is always fire danger; in winter its snow, rain and ice. It's been 21 years since I live in a place where snow is guaranteed. While Sacramento had it's share of weather issues, snow was not one of them. What was peculiar was mowing grass in January. The most interesting aspect of the weather is watching the storms try to get over the Cascades immediately to the west. The "rain shadow" effect caused by the mountains gives us our dryer and colder environment. Last week was typical with the clouds and mountains performing their meterological pas de deux.



Yesterday I went out to the Metolius Preserve where members of the Deschutes Basin Land Trust were cutting trees for their holiday celebrations. For a $10 donation people wandered out into the forest to find "wild" trees unlike the "farmed" variety. The most heard comment was "this really begins our holiday season." Although our house has been decorated, we still don't have our tree yet. Maybe today...

With temperatures hovering in the 20's during the day and the teens at night I've been thinking about the nature of change. It's actually quite reassuring to see seasonal changes even if it makes life a little uncomfortable. One simply adds more layers of fleece and uses the Jotul stove more hours in the day. Change on other levels is harder to understand and more difficult to accommodate. Two areas are on my mind: health, which is personal, and the current state of American newspapers which all seem to be in free-fall toward demise or irrelevancy.

Follow this link for a good read: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wpdyn/content/article/2007/11/18/AR2007111801390.html?sub=AR (you may have to plug in a username and password). If you can't open this link go to washingtonpost.com and search for Howard Kurtz and his commentary about changes at the San Jose Mercury News.

I concern myself with these topics because both have impact on my life. Health, obviously, is what determines how comfortable retirement is and will be. Newspapers, because they defined nearly all of my professional life and I still have many friends in the industry who will be affected by the rapid changes occurring daily. Neither of these topics are as predictable as the weather outside. So for now, cold days are of little importance.

Thanksgiving has been a great time with Jesse, Carmen and the perpetual motion child Alton. Diane and I howl at his antics and admire the absolute unconditional love that Jesse and Carmen have for him as young parents. I understand more intimately now why child rearing is one of those great life tasks one gets to do at an early age. Participating as a grandpa is exciting, tiring, and comforting to see Jesse and Carmen raise Alton. The great pleasure and pride only a grandpa can feel is the best. I'm also glad to have been there done that.

I hope your holiday season is off to a great start. Cheers!

Fall is struggling to hang on. A sunny day is followed by rainy one and each succeeding nice day is cooler with temperatures barely reaching 50 degrees. The Metolius River is running steady and cold and late afternoon light plays on the Ponderosas in the forest. Yet it is refreshing to get out on the bike and see the magnificent Cascades covered in fresh snow. A week or two more and the rain that comes now will be snow later as the snow level drops. Now it's around 5000'. We're at 3100'. Thanksgiving is next week and we're anxious for Jesse, Carmen and Alton to come for the holiday.