Self-improvement

 

Dawn at the Byrne Preserve, Los Altos Hills, CA

What would make me a better photographer? I asked this question of Jerry Dodrill, a treasured mentor, as we settled down for pastry last week after a busy morning photographing on the Sonoma Coast, his home. 

Fog and lichen-covered rock near Goat Rock CA

We talked about lots of things, like risk-taking.  Everyone has their own level of risk tolerance.  Jerry’s is admirably higher than mine.  It does me good to think about hazard. Physical risks, like climbing to that precarious place, can gain a unique perspective.

I can sometimes be lazy.  For example, I might not get out to shoot when I’m tired or would just like to relax.  I sometimes take the shorter hike, potentially missing what’s around the next corner.  I might resist getting out in difficult weather, which is often when the magic happens.  Jerry says that Galen Rowell, who he worked for, emphasized that these are the times when it’s most important to get out there.  I’d be well-served to remember this.

Getting out of my comfort zone, taking creative risks, can create new perspectives of a different kind.  Julia Cameron talks about the willingness to make bad art.  It’s a risk, but a small one, really. What’s the worst thing that can happen? This mindset defeats perfectionism, shifts focus away from results and toward process, and builds a bridge to good art. 

Emotion: Russian River Valley

We also tackled the topic of storytelling.  I often find myself presenting images whose story is primarily “that’s beautiful.”  While there’s value in beauty, I feel driven to strive for more. Why do I do the work and share it with you?  The “why” conversation with myself can engender a perspective change as well. I strive to better present stories of the natural world or of emotion. You know, a thousand words.

We spoke of technical things, valuable but much too dry to detail here. He shared some thoughts about legacy; about what will remain when we’re gone and how to best curate that. My 12-book project was a first step in that direction.  I’m wondering now what’s next. 

The "Fog Machine", Sonoma Coast CA

That very morning, we had roused ourselves in the dark and Jerry took me to witness what he calls the “fog machine,” where the moist air pours down the Russian River Valley and over these hills.  The spectacle in predawn light evoked a rare sense of awe. 

Inspired by an image at the Dodrill Gallery, I crouched at the beach and played with fast shutter speed shooting the shore break foam.  This is a low-return proposition; I came home with several hundred images and liked just a couple.  Oh, and the risk in that was to be so engrossed with the project that I might get swamped by a wave.  Yes, that has happened but not this time. 

Spooner's Cove CA

Landscape photography requires persistence and research, pursuing that lucky light that makes all the work worthwhile. Coastal light is completely different from what we see in the desert.  Marco, Gypsy and I walked to Spooner’s Cove from the Campground at Montaña de Oro State Park, mostly to shake off the cobwebs from a long drive. As this scene developed, I felt grateful to have schlepped the camera gear.

Birds were plentiful and photogenic.

Cloudy and stormy days had me focused on details on the beaches.

The predawn glow affords lovely, subtle light to photograph details.

Out in the Mojave, just a half-day short of home, I put up the drone before dawn at Amboy Crater.  With volcanic rock crunching under my feet in the singular quiet of the desert, I appreciated the dry, clear air after a long visit to the coast.  The full moon setting energized me and showed me a hint of my intrinsic lunatic.

All this photography was blessed with a backdrop of great beer and wine, Dog-friendly beaches, and the company of good friends.

My plan for self-improvement is to keep at this craft mindfully, gratefully accept mentorship, and trust that there will always be things to learn.

There’s more from this trip in the Autumn 2026 Gallery on the website.

Parting shot: Gull at Doran Beach

‘As age comes on, one source of enjoyment after another is closed, but Nature's sources never fail. Like a generous host, she offers here brimming cups in endless variety, served in a grand hall, the sky its ceiling, the mountains its walls, decorated with glorious paintings and enlivened with bands of music ever playing… Fears vanish as soon as one is fairly free in the wilderness.” ~ John Muir

Pushing Back

 

Cliff Castle, Mesa Verde National Park

There are two kinds of fear, the kind we should move away from and the kind we should explore.  My first ever writing workshop was clearly the latter.  I’ve admired Craig Childs’ writing for some time; I’ll read about anything he writes.  So, I had a deep inhale and signed up. 

Cliff Castle, Mesa Verde National Park

I just got back from the three days in and near Mesa Verde National Park.  It was a great learning experience.  Really, I’m a beginner at creative writing. It’s easy to crush a beginner, but Craig managed to give me lots of good feedback which left me excited to write more.

 

We were a lovely group, a safe place for each other.  I laughed when I looked around and saw most of the women wore no makeup.  My tribe.

 

The plan is to intersperse some themes and ideas from the weekend with my responses to the writing prompts (italicized.)

 

Almost 40 years ago I was here at Mesa Verde.  I remember nothing, so I started again.  Braced against the cold wind at 8500 feet elevation, I’m listening to Craig’s voice, paradoxically resonant in the open air, and multiplied by the landforms he points out.  This he does clockwise, like walking with the Buddha, he says.  These are place names familiar from Tony Hillerman Novels of the Four Corners and the Big Rez; Shiprock, Chuskas, Lukachukais, Sleeping Ute.  Legends and stone.

 

Mesa Verde National Park, Ca 1990. That's me on the left.

On that first trip we were allowed to touch and crawl through some of the cliff dwellings.  Here I am with some friends doing just that in 1990. 

Each morning Craig greeted the dawn as the morning sun hit Mesa Verde.  We had a great view from our rental across the valley. He’d play his Shakuhachi flute as we gathered around, hushed. He said later that ceremony was currency to the Ancient Puebloans, and that it remains so. On the first morning, I had no words to describe the magic, and worried that this was an inauspicious way for a beginner to start a writing workshop.

 Raven wings slice through the air and stir the scent of pinon. Music ascends and embraces us. I’m searching for points of connection with the ancient inhabitants of this place.  Slickrock. Heartbreaking blue skies.  Evidence of the universals of human life and hunger. Granaries. Kiva benches. Rock art. Connection.

 Connection.  Archeology sites have always felt distant and abstract to me.  Craig knows a lot about the subject and has a way of helping us find a more personal connection with the people who built these structures.  I consider the metaphor of aspen trees, connected to each other underground. One writing prompt asked us to tell a story about finding something ancient. 

Camped at Triple Alcoves, I pry myself out of a hammock strung between junipers and walk toward the rim of Marble Canyon.   Limestone chips crunch under my boots and the scent of cliff rose arrives on the breeze. I’m distracted by a lone Indian paintbrush bloom, and then again while squatting to photograph it. I see, or maybe sense, a triangle of black and white pottery, tucked under a downed piñon trunk. It could nestle easily in my palm.  I’m stunned by a sense of connection with the woman (because surely, it was a woman) who had made, used, and eventually cursed when she dropped and broke the pot.  Did she carry water in it? Store corn? Did it ride repeatedly on her head? I feel an intense desire to pocket the treasure. Why don’t I? Perhaps because I’m a rules girl, or maybe I’ve mollified myself sufficiently by taking photographs. I replace the gem, pay respects to my 13th century soulmate, and move on.  I know they will both be there when I return. 

Procession Panel, Open Source Image

Craig talks about the ancient, instinctive human need to gather in circles, as we’re doing in modern-day Mancos Colorado. He mentions ancient rock art known as procession panels, which show people carrying burdens, coming from all directions.

Coconino National Forest, AZ.  Mushrooms!

I think quite a bit about the beginner’s mind; the child’s mind.  Craig talks about animism in these ancient cultures.  I’m thinking of the way I sometimes talk to trees, wildflowers, and mushrooms. I can get very enthusiastic about mushrooms. We all did this kind of thing as kids, yes?

Craig made a particularly poignant point about writing, that its creating something from nothing. He says that it pushes back against destruction. That’s a thought worth pondering.

I did this trip in the van (driveway camping in Mancos) and had a few stops before and after.

Coconino National Forest, AZ

The bigtooth maples were turning red in Mogollon Rim Country on the way up. 

San Juan National Forest, CO

With the better part of a day to kill before the workshop started, I explored parts of the San Juan Forest and had conversations with some aspens.

From Moran Point, Grand Canyon National Park

After a harrowing drive in high wind (an RV was blown off the road an on its side) I happily pulled into a “thank god” camp and Grand Canyon’s South Rim. Storm light there was an unexpected bonus.

There’s more on the website in the Autumn 2026 Gallery.

Portugal

 

Nazare and the Atlantic

There were lots of firsts on this European marathon.  I thought quite a bit about how to present them and decided to keep it simple and stick with the photogenic highlights.

 

The Viking Gyda on the Douro River

This was our first cruise.  Opting for a peaceful experience, we chose the 105-passenger Viking Gyda on Portugal’s Douro River. We loved the food and easy access to several destinations, and we made some new friends.  This last accomplishment is remarkable because we’re increasingly antisocial as we age. 

 

Open bridge with the captain

I reverted to 10-year-old mode when Captain Alves let me honk the horn from the bridge.  Sometimes it’s the little things.

 

Another ship exits a lock as we wait out turn

I was surprised at how much I enjoyed traversing the five locks on the Douro.  The trip was out-and-back from Porto, so we experienced each one twice.  I hadn’t understood much about how they work, and so I loved experiencing them from various ship decks and from our cabin.  I’ve written more about that here, in case you’re interested.  Alves told us that his grandfather was also a captain on the Douro, and he showed us some harrowing footage of sailing the river when it still had rapids, before the dams and locks went in in the 1960s. This video is similar.

 

Porto at night from Gaia, across the river

This trip was also an experiment in another way.  Toward the goal of not checking bags, I committed to shooting only with my iPhone 17, a tabletop tripod, and a circular polarizing filter.  I certainly appreciated traveling light.  Mostly it worked out well, but the phone is still a camera with a very small sensor, and there were a few technical issues that made me miss the big girl camera.  If you’re interested in this geeky stuff, I’d be happy to talk with you about it.  We’ll just spare my more normal readers those drawn-out details.  The image above is an example of the usefulness of the tiny tripod, shooting city scenes at night.

 

Riverside villa and vineyards

The Douro region is all about wine and olives.  Terrain is steep, and the photogenic terraces date back many hundreds of years. I loved shooting these images from our cabin veranda with a white port and tonic cocktail in my other hand.

 

Looking down at Lamego from the Sanctuary

Lamego was my favorite of the day trips from the ship.  The Santuário de Nossa Senhora dos Remédios is striking, connected to the town below by over 600 steps, which pilgrims traditionally climb on their knees.  We walked down, on our feet.  The views were striking, and we also enjoyed a stroll through the Thursday market where, among other things,  live chickens can be purchased.

 

Lello Bookstore, Porto

I very much wanted to go to Lello Bookstore in Porto, where JK Rowling is said to have hatched the idea of moving staircases at Hogwart’s.  The place has become annoyingly popular, requiring timed entry tickets, about 100 every 15 minutes.  Photography was challenging, but it was still a place worth the visit.

After a week living on the ship, we connected with some friends from the UK and covered a remarkable amount of ground in five days.  It helped that he had run a business in Portugal, but we managed to see a few things that were new even to him.  It was a great gift to see some beautiful places relatively off the beaten path.

 

Silhouettes in Braga

Braga was striking and quiet and, in the early morning at least, mostly populated with locals.

 

Tomar.  I did my best to minimize the dredging of the river

Tomar was a favorite.  I had mostly shaken an annoying virus by then and was able to resume my habit while traveling of early morning walks.  I’m sure I make my best images then.

Pegões Aqueduct

There were delightful surprises along the way, including the 17^th century Pegões Aqueduct, built to supply a convent.

 

Tourist gondola in Aveiro

Aveiro is referred to at the Venice of Portugal.  I’m not sure about that, but I did find it quite picturesque.

 

Óbidos

Finally, we stayed just outside the walled Roman city of Óbidos.  Fog was a great photographic gift during my morning walk there.  Like so many places in Europe, my sense of architectural history in the US was dwarfed again.

 

Delicious stairway detail,  Convento de Cristóbal, Tomar

Just like any epic adventure, it left more questions than answers in my mind, and a longer list of things to see.

There are more images in the Portugal 2026 Gallery on the website.

Locks

 

Watching another ship exit before we started our upstream trip

Until the 1960s, Portugal’s Douro River was populated with sizable and treacherous rapids.  Five dams with locks were constructed during that and the next decade.  The locks made the river much more navigable.

Satellite screenshot of a cruise ship in the lock

 I had no idea how exciting the ten trips (the cruise went out and back) through locks would be. 

Thirty Centimeters clearance on each side

Douro River cruise ships are built as large as can fit in the locks.  There’s about a foot of clearance on each side of the ship (especially exciting when viewed from the stateroom veranda), and some traverses require that the sunshade and bridge roof on the top deck be lowered to fit.  

One bridge, at least, required that the crew measure the clearance with a stick.

Sailing into the trash compactor

Giant door behind us beginning to close

Coming upstream, we pull into a chamber reminiscent of the trash compactor scene in Star Wars: A New hope and watch the massive doors close behind us. 

Gravity feeds water and floats us up to the new river level.  The tallest lock had 115 feet elevation change. Once we’d reached the proper level, a door dropped vertically, and off we went.

Just before the bathtub drained on the way down

 

Of course, the procedure was reversed during the downriver part of our journey.

When Life Gives You Mushrooms

High above East Clear Creek, Coconino National Forest, AZ

Our priority was solitude.  I haven’t camped much this season, for lots of reasons, and the three of us wanted to get out for a few days while we could.  Mogollon Rim Country provides the shortest drive to high-altitude camping, a must in summer. 

While there are grand landscapes available there, this part of the Coconino National Forest is also the closest to Metro Phoenix, and it gets crowded, especially on the edge of the rim where the views are.

We chose some quiet spots, enjoyed the cool temperatures and hammock naps, and I shot mostly little things and what’s often called intimate landscapes.  These scenes are smaller than the grand ones.  They offer several advantages, including an opportunity to do more original work. Many photographers have shot those long views, but maybe none has done justice to that one amazing tree.

Graphic Intimate Landscape, Coconino National Forest, AZ

I call the little things “details.”  This year has been a wet one, and everywhere I looked there were mushrooms.  You likely don’t know that I worked in college and during a gap year afterward in a mycology (fungus) lab at UC Santa Barbara.  I’ve always had a soft spot for the little buggers.

This was a good opportunity to get re-acquainted.

One thing we didn’t anticipate was that the long weekend ("amateur weekend" for camping) began on Thursday, apparently.  Thursday was our last night.  Yes, I’m grateful that, as retired people, we can be out there on weekdays.  Some people have no choice but to be out there on Labor Day weekend.  Still, when driving around in circles looking for a quiet spot, I’ll admit to feeling a little annoyed.

Ferns in a burn scar, Coconino National Forest, AZ

This trip was sandwiched between commitments for us, too.  Despite the frustrations, I was grateful to be out.

There’s more on the website, closing out the Summer 2026 Gallery.

Stay tuned for something completely different later this month.