Mount Sanford. Looking toward Mt. Sanford, across the broken boreal forest of the Copper River Basin in the Wrangell Mountain Range, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska.

Mount Sanford, taken one cold morning back in the winter. Down in the lower right hand corner you might notice a small building. That’s the outhouse next to where the truck was parked, at Rock Lake. I didn’t dwell here for long, the wind was biting cold, and I had hot coffee waiting back down the hill.

Cheers

Carl

Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Wrangell Mountains and the Kuskulana River, Kuskulana Glacier, near Nugget Creek mine. Winter, Alaska. This photo is a closer look at the ice wall on the Kuskulana Glacier, from the photo I posted last week. I probably spent about an hour or 2 here, checking out this fascinating place. Please click on the image above to view a larger version of this photo.

Hey Folks,

My friend Guy Tal posted (as usual) another great read on his blog; “Photography and the Environment”. I urge you to read his treatise; it’s a solid piece. Guy has a great knack for writing on particular topics without seeming to offend those who disagree with him, which makes his a powerful voice. At the same time, he’s not wishy-washy. that’s a hard line to toe.

One question Guy asks in the article is “Will another photograph on a web site in a stock library truly change public opinion? How about another thousand? Another million?”

I’d suggest, however, that this is the wrong question to consider.Turn it around; what if there were to be no more nature photographs? What if nobody photographed another sunset, another bald eagle, glacier, forest grove or great bear? What if no writer touched pen to paper to draft the next essay on climate change, the next article about mountain top blasting, or open pit mining, or overgrazing? What if poets stayed their ink, and said no more? What if musicians ceased their social commentary, singers fell silent? Cinematographers made no more nature films?

How might THAT change public opinion? I’ll submit here that art DOES foster culture. The voices of writers, photographers, musicians, painters, dancers, film makers, etc, are worthwhile. The art we create moves people. Expression, both collective and individual, reinforces and shapes who we are, what we value, how we feel, how we think, move, talk, how we treat ourselves, each other; in essence, how we live.

What if the voice for concern were left only to those who have none? What kind of culture would arise from a world where the only representatives of the natural world were those interested in nothing more than extraction and coin? This is precisely the kind of world that made the John Muirs, the Henry Jacksons, etc, so desperately critical. Rivers caught on fire and the greatest herds of wildlife the planet has ever seen are no more. Even given the great work of those luminaries, we still produce undrinkable water and unbreathable air; the skies rain acid, the ice melts and the  polar bear vanishes. It’s frightening to contemplate where we might be today if these giants of conservation, artists all, stepped away from the fray because they wondered if their work might make no difference.

No thanks; give me a world where “champions of the natural world” isn’t a phrase pertaining to competition and conquest, but a tribute to the voice of love and compassion.

Consider the work of great artists as part of a greater coterie; the voice of Bob Dylan, of Rachel Carson, Henry David Thoreau, Ansel Adams, Henry Jackson, Art Wolf, Wendell Berry do not arise from a vacuum. Those voices are certainly some of the loudest and most poignant; fine soloists indeed. But even Aretha Franklin sings with a choir. These legendary artists arise from a bed of creativity, a giant web, that includes, many, many other artists. It is this bed that generates great art and great artists, and it is this bed that might precipitate social change. The universe didn’t give us one Jimi Hendrix. The universe gives us hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of kids growing up playing guitar, making music, making art; and Jimi’s incredible performances are part of that, an outgrowth of that web.

Furthermore, artists don’t create single works. Artists make art, and maybe, sometimes, if we’re lucky, just one of those creations might generate public comment. Photographers shoot literally hundreds, thousands of images, in the vain, oft-concealed hope of possibly making one really great image. Cartier Bresson said “Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.” So if your photo isn’t enough to truly nurture a change in public opinion, shoot another. And another. And yet another.

The last point I might make here is a more personal one. My photography might not, probably will not, ever, “truly change public opinion”. But my photographic pursuits have changed my opinion; the ways I see the world, the things I care about, the respect I feel for the world around me, have all grown in leaps and bounds through artistic engagement, and continue to do so. That alone makes the quest meaningful.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

A lil’ holiday spirit. As this is published, I’m probably somewhere right around here:

A black and white photo of the boreal photo in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, wintertime, Alaska. Please click on the image above to view a larger version of the photo. And Happy Holidays, everyone!

Cheers

Carl

Winter travel through the boreal forest, in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve. Hiking on snowshoes through the snow-covered taiga, white spruce forest in winter. Please click on the image above to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

Well, Fall’s well and truly over, now. I skied through a whiteout this afternoon, over in the Chugach Mountains, and decided winter’s here. So I think I’ll welcome the new season with a trip to “the park”, as I call Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve.

The plan is to head over early this week and spend a few days on the north side of the park, snowshoeing and skiing around in the forest. I took this photo last winter on a trip to this same area; it’s always a treat to return and wander through the silent whiteness.

Winter is such a fascinating time of year in Alaska, so stark and silent, yet completely amazing. It lacks the vitality of the summer, but owns a kind of sublime depth that simply isn’t present at any other time of year. It’s very alive. Right now it hasn’t yet got down to the crazy winter temps of -40˚, but there should be plenty of snow around.

Tomorrow I’ll spend part of the day packing for the trip. Even though I’m only going to the park for a few days, colder weather means more gear, and more careful packing is required. Then, Tuesday, it’ll be off to Wrangell – St. Elias National Park to see what I can find to photograph. If nothing is on offer, I’ll just spend the time skiing a few areas  want to explore a little more, snowshoeing through the forest, and enjoying the greatest National Park in the world.

Cheers

Carl

The Copper river and Mt Drum, from Simpson Hill Overlook. View of the Copper River basin and Wrangell Mountains, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Please click on the image thumbnail to view a larger version of this photo.

Hey Folks,

OK, enough with the waterfalls already! Here’s another image from my spring trip earlier this year, from Simpson Hill Overlook, off the Richardson Highway, near Glennallen, Alaska. This is a scene I’ll never tire of; looking down the Copper River, with the Wrangell Mountains in glorious sunshine. The mountains you can see in this image are Mt. Drum on the left and Mt. Wrangell the broader, dome-shaped mountain on the right in the background.

Just out of sight to the left of the frame is Mt. Sanford, and  Mt. Blackburn to the right. How many vantage points do you know of in North America where you might choose to exclude from your photo two mountains both of which stand over 16 000′ high? That speaks volumes, in my opinion, about how amazing this viewpoint is. The 5th (Blackburn) and 6th tallest peaks (Sanford) in the US and they don’t make the photo? Craziness!

The Copper River is pretty grand too. Not to get bogged down by meaningless numbers and superlatives, but the Copper River is 300 miles long, and the 10th largest river, by volume, in the US. The Copper River is also the north and western boundaries of Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve, coolest park in all the world! It’s perhaps best known, however, for its nearly infamous Red Salmon run, usually over 2 million spawning salmon, loaded with fatty Omega-3 oils that make for some delicious supper.

I was really hoping for some sweet delicious alpenglow on this particular evening …. but ….. alas, such wasn’t to be my fortune. The light faded soon after I shot this – the boreal forest in the foreground grew dark, and the mountain light ebbed and dwindled; distant dim clouds low on the northwestern horizon thwarted my efforts at capturing some rich color on the snow-capped peaks, as seems to be the case all too often.

This scene is one of the very few ‘roadside‘ vantage points from which to photograph some of the big mountains in Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve. Willow Lake is another. The views on a clear day from these places rival anything I’ve seen anywhere else. The problem, I guess, for photographers is that the clear days are few and far between. Enjoy ‘em when ya can!

Cheers

Carl

Morning reflection, beaver pond, Wrangell St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Please click on the thumbnail to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks

Here’s a quick shot from my recent few weeks in Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve. I’m leaving in the morning for the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and will return in 2 weeks. I’ll try to post something from that trip then. Until that time, I hope you enjoy this scene.

This photo was taken maybe an hour after dawn – around 4:30 am.

Cheers

Carl

View of Mt Blackburn from the Nugget Creek outhouse, winter, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Please click on the image to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

How’s this for a view from an outhouse? 16 390′ tall Mt. Blackburn towering over the Wrangell mountains. I took a little spring soiree recently over to Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and ventured up the Kuskulana River and Nugget Creek area. I’ll be back there this summer hiking a couple of routes in the area, one of which I did last summer. There is a great public use cabin at Nugget Creek, which I stayed in for the week. The outhouse, which you can see here, looks directly at Mt Blackburn. It’s kind of a nice view to take your mind off things, so to speak.

Unfortunately, I chose a week of cloudy crappy weather, which I meant not a lot of great photo opps for me, but some good skiing and snowshoeing time in the area. Me and my Karhu skis went up the hills, down the hills, up the river, down the river, over the glacier, over the moraine and through the woods. I really enjoyed the trip.

I’ll try to post a little over the next week and catch up a bit; it’s always kinda weird coming back from the quiet of the woods to the social media world of blogs and facebooks and tweets and whatnot. Rather than come back inspired to write, I often come back inspired to “not write” - the quiet and stillness of the northern winter seems to steer me in a direction that is a little more ‘internal‘ and a lot less ‘external‘. It doesn’t do a lot for my blog, but it does a grand job on my soul.

Anyway, I hope you all had a great March, and here’s to spring!

Cheers

Carl

Snow covered spruce trees in the boreal forest, Wrangell St. Elias National Park, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

This photo from my most recent trip to Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve, over the Xmas- New Year. The note below was penned one beautiful evening last winter, by candlelight in a tiny cabin in the Alaska. There’s nothing quite like the silence and the cold of the boreal forest in an Alaskan winter.

The Paradox of Silence and the Cold

Silence is the aural equivalent of stillness. Both appear related to time, or at least our perception of it. Winter in the north seems to be abundant in both. The northern winter, often so harsh and unrelenting, is also the time when the place becomes still and silent.

Sometimes it feels so still, so beautifully still, that I am sure time must have paused. Time, perhaps, rests, fatigued after the frenzied bustle of summer and the frantic world of countless reproductions eases. The textbooks tell me that such is not possible, but maybe, just maybe, they’re wrong. I remain unconvinced. Time just may well pause here in the north.

How can they say time doesn’t stand still? Surely even the slightest of movements would be apparent in this world of calm and yet there is none. Nothing moves here, why time? The air, so still. A fresh layer of snow muting even the slightest of sounds, mutes even movement. The sun, ever low on the horizon, hangs, and it too pauses, before continuing its journey to the next of days.

The depth to this stillness is the exclusive domain of winter – no other season holds time quite like this – not a breath, a whisper, a thought to break the silence. The air is too brittle, so thin it’s almost fragile.

The cold, so lifelike at times; a sinewy, shy, elusive fellow, comes in the night to greet me in the morning. His welcome is my solace – without it, who alone could tolerate this stark, silent vastness? The cold becomes my friend, I can accept him or resist him; the latter is clearly a path toward my discontent. Rather, like a lover, the cold is best embraced, accepted, and loved. Without my shivers for company, what solace could the cold know?

Like an old friend, I open the door when he knocks, for I know his approach well, as he, in turn, anticipates, my opening the door. A greeting, the cold, I embrace, you bring me warmth.

Cheers

Carl

Fall in the boreal forest, aspen tree trunks, Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska

Hey Folks,

A quick visit back to September; the boreal forest is a melange of color in the fall. The vibrancy of the Alaska woods in the fall is a function, perhaps, of the speed at which the dramatic changes take place. The green foliage of summer glimpses the oncoming winter and is gone in the blink of an eye; one last hurrah of color before settling in, nestled beneath the whites of winter.

Cheers

Carl

Winter landscape of sunset over Mt. Wrangell and the Copper River Basin. Mount Wrangell, Mount Zanetti and snow covered boreal forest of the Copper River Basin, Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Click the image to view larger version.

Hey Folks,

“We had a remarkable sunset one day last November .. It was such a light as we could not have imagined a moment before, and the air also was so warm and serene that nothing was wanting to make a paradise of that meadow. When we reflected that this was not a solitary phenomenon, never to happen again, but that it would happen forever and ever an infinite number of evenings, and cheer and reassure the latest child that walked there, it was more glorious still.

The sun sets on some retired meadow, where no house is visible, with all the glory and splendor that it lavishes on cities, and, perchance, as it has never set before, …. so pure and bright a light,  …. so softly and serenely bright, I thought I had never bathed in such a golden flood, without a ripple or murmur to it.” – Henry David Thoreau, “Walking”.

For those of you perhaps unfamiliar with this essay, my advice is to read it carefully; those who’ve read it previously will do well to re-read the piece; it’s a classic.

Though many are familiar with perhaps what is Thoreau’s most oft-quoted line, “in Wildness lies the preservation of the world”, “Walking” is filled with myriad gems of equally critical insight. I’ve always loved the description of light toward the passage’s closing, quoted above, and frequently thought how fitting it might be to try to make a photo that may accompany his poetry. Perhaps the softest of alpenglow on Mt. Wrangell one gelid, tranquil evening last week is Thoreau’s light of “an infinite number of evenings”.

Taken in sub -30˚F temperatures, the photography was rewarding. The frigid winter is an amazing experience, though difficult to describe; the unity of the air, the mountains, the light, the landscape, the silence, the uni-verse, is apparent with a clarity unlike any other time of year. The cold, not the cold air, but the ‘cold’, becomes a thing, omnipresent, like space itself. This is where wildness lies.

I won’t go on, but will leave with Thoreau’s opening lines from ‘Walking‘:

“I wish to speak a word for Nature, for absolute freedom and wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture merely civil, — to regard man as an inhabitant, or a part and parcel of Nature, rather than a member of society. I wish to make an extreme statement, if so I may make an emphatic one, for there are enough champions of civilization: the minister, and the school-committee, and every one of you will take care of that.” — Henry David Thoreau, “Walking”.

Your homework is to read the rest of it.

Cheers

Carl

A note about the image; the broad hulking mountain is Mt. Wrangell, a 14 163′ still active volcano. The cool little peak off to the left of Mt. Wrangell, the cone-shaped pinnacle, is Mt. Zanetti, slightly lower at 13009′. The summit region of Mt. Wrangell is over 10 square miles. The view here looks across the Copper River Basin.