the anatomy of an image.

Okay I have never done this before and this is admittedly sort of giving away some secrets but maybe someone who reads this (does anyone actually read this? quien sabe) might find it helpful. I have certainly written enough blogs (or maybe not) for a group on Flickr that kind of discuss in some detail various aspects of color management and using it in Photoshop and raw workflows and such. And apparently I'm doing a presentation at the worldwide PIA Color Management Conference in Phoenix this year on color-managed raw workflows so this ties in nicely and maybe I'll just flash up this blog post at the conference and take off for Zion.

But anyways, I'm going to dissect a recent photo I took when J and I backpacked to Cathedral Peak a month ago on our annual pilgrimage-of-a-summer-vacation to the hot and sunny state of California to bask in the Sierras. Maybe this will be useful to see how much (but really how little) is done to an image to take it from being 'eh' to hopefully at least slightly more than 'eh.'

First of all, I still have to blog about our vacation. But just for this post I am going to throw out there I have wanted to backpack to Cathedral for a few years namely because it is just an über-picturesque peak. It's weird how certain mountains are just beautiful while others are just, well, not. Cathedral is beautiful. Probably one of the most spectacular peaks in the Sierras–at least in my humble opinion, but I have far from traveled throughout the Sierras so many might disagree. Anyways. It is.

So the story goes that on this trip (and this is the short version) I left the rainfly back in Oliver's trunk gambling that it would not rain. A thunderstorm overtook Cathedral that afternoon. I set up the tent as far under a clump of trees as I could until it (the storm, not the tent thankfully) blew over. We stayed mostly dry. The storm broke up around five in the afternoon. The sky was full of, well, quite incredible clouds. The light was for lack of a better term, um, stellar. About seven J and I took off to a) find a good spot for reflection shots of Cathedral for later in the evening and then b) scramble up eight- or nine-hundred feet along a ridge that overlooked Cathedral Lake, Tenaya Lake and the high Sierra in every direction. I took some pictures of the mountains and of J. Like this. And this. J took one. I asked him after why he didn't take more!? He didn't really know. Maybe he was too busy climbing. After that bit of fun, we hurried back down to set up the tripod and await the show.

Uh, and what a show. It's funny looking through my collection on Bridge cos you can see in the tiny thumbnail filmstrip how the light went from good to better to best. Or from blue to pink to purple. When it was all done, J and I wound our way back around the trail to our campsite to sit on a rock and watch as the light on Cathedral faded more and more to just about completely dark before we made our way back to the tent. It was an incredible evening and one I know I will not and hopefully he will not soon forget.

But anyways, so onto the image at hand. For which I just aimed at Cathedral and pointed. I had nothing to do with the light. I swear. And just a couple of things to keep in mind before I dive into it:

• I try to keep my Photoshop work fairly consistent for my landscapes and at a minimum because ...
• a good shot requires a, um, good shot–which is just to say shoot it right when you're there so you start with a good file that just needs some slight tweaking like making sure nothing is blown out (or only slightly blown out because you can recover some of it in Photoshop)
• shoot in raw–yes, do not shoot JPEGs if you really care and your camera can shoot raw (I'll attempt to show there's lots of things you can do in Camera Raw that might be surprising)
• for morning/evening/reflection shots there is little chance of actually not blowing something out or blocking up shadows without either a) using graduated neutral density filters (as I did for this shot) or b) shooting multiple exposures–I do not attempt to shoot multiple exposures (bracketing in-camera) because things tend to move (like the water in this shot might have)
• if you don't have one already go out and get a polarizer filter–there, I said it–and use it for just about every shot you take, especially of water and skies (here, you can see the bottom of the lake because the polarizer cuts through the glare off the water and really brings out detail you would never get without one–the current version of Photoshop cannot create the bottom of Cathedral Lake)
• use adjustment layers–never ever ever make an adjustment without one

Okay, that was way too preachy. I take it all back. Do and shoot as you please of course, but that's just what I do and did for this shot to get what I got. But like I said I just point and shoot. Sometimes get lucky.

So onward we go, starting with the original capture (meaning not yet adjusted in Adobe Camera Raw–ACR from here on out) and histogram (click on any of the following images to open a larger version) -

Notice the composite (RGB) diagram at top–nothing blown out, nothing plugged up. I shot this with a circular polarizer and a 0.9 (3-stop) graduated soft-edge neutral density filter (well, actually 0.3- and 0.6-stop filters combined) on a tripod. And since I'm getting this granular, what the heck–it was shot at f11 for 0.5 seconds at ISO 100 using a Canon IS 18-55mm lens on a Canon 20D (in raw mode of course, no extra JPEG). My workflow then consists of downloading all my .CR2 raw Canon files to a folder and then pointing the Adobe DNG Converter to convert them all to open-source .dng files (as opposed to the lame proprietary Canon files). Once they're converted, I move the .dng files into my folder hierarchy on my server which more or less mirrors the folder structure the 20D creates (a hundred files per folder–like 0400-0499 etc.). The server is backed up daily to a large firewire drive with the help of SuperDuper! (the best Mac backup software hands-down). I dump the .CR2 files because I'm no pro and could never think of a reason to keep them but I can see why someone might. I then go through Bridge and choose my 'selects' by marking them with a certain number of stars (uh, this one originally got 3 but was bumped up to 4 after I finished editing it). Then I open the .dng into ACR and start–this is what it looks like after that little journey through ACR which I will explain in a moment-

A bit better. Basically, I have just optimized the capture. An important element here and you might notice the icon of the IMG_0943 layer with the little paper-with-folded-over-corner? That is a Smart Object icon and a key component of my workflow. In CS3, there is a setting you can select in ACR that opens all files as Smart Objects by clicking on the Workflow Options link at the bottom of the ACR window. Turn it on. And leave it on. It rules. And what it allows you to do is double-click that icon which then takes you back into ACR to make any further adjustments necessary. Flexibility to any workflow is key, and Smart Objects are the epitome of flexibility. But what I did in ACR–starting with the Basic tab–is as follows (and I'll just move through the different tabs from left to right, basically the workflow I would recommend and why it is set up the way it is) -

I have noticed that since Canon cameras rule they require no adjustment of the temp and tint unless you want to be creative. But I don't usually touch them. What I do is adjust the exposure to make sure my histogram stretches from end to end as can be seen in either picture above or below.

I then adjust the parametric tone curve like that shown above. The point curve is leftover from ACR versions past so I never touch it. Parametric = much more powerful. You can move the triangles at the bottom to refine what ACR adjusts as shadows, darks, lights and highlights. I tend not to mess much with the highlight end of the spectrum because I want to maintain detail in clouds and such.

Okay, the Detail tab above is key. Now it can be debated where and when to do your sharpening and I have been using and testing versions of ACR since 1.0 and the various sharpening filters in Photoshop for a long time (namely, the Unsharp Mask of days ago and the newer Smart Sharpen). I used to never sharpen in ACR (it's a preference setting in ACR–you can choose to either sharpen the preview only or to sharpen the image itself) but I played with it in ACR v4 (now 4.6) and it blew me away. After some testing, I found that in the Detail settings I was able to dial in a sharpening amount that worked beautifully with the full-resolution files from my 20D. So much that I made a preset in ACR that is automatically applied to every .dng file I open from that camera -

It's easy to do by clicking the arrow at the top-right of the tabbed window (to the right of the name of the tab) and choosing to 'Save Settings.' This saves an XML file that you can then pass around and apply as part of the default settings ACR uses when opening your image files (which is done by going to that same arrow and–once you have the settings dialed the way you want as the default–choosing to 'Save New Camera Raw Defaults'). That way everything gets sharpened perfectly and I never have to do a thing.

Then onto one of the most powerful tabs in ACR (v4.x–unfortunately not in earlier versions)–the HSL tab -

So for this image I did not adjust any of the hues, but did adjust some saturation as shown above, and some luminance settings as shown below -

What is so cool about this is ACR targets any of those eight hues and it is mighty powerful being able to adjust the hue, saturation and luminance of any of them. If you want more detailed info it's all in these articles I wrote so I'm not going into a ton more detail here or else this post will be really long and probably somewhat boring (although if you've read this far props). But I will point out to remember that the reason this stuff is so powerful is due to the fact that you are working on a linear file at this point–it has not been converted to a non-linear file like a JPEG/TIF/PSD. So adjusting the luminance of, say–the blues–is not only non-destructive in ACR but also linear so the effect it has is much, much different (and cleaner = less banding/noise) than doing so with a curve or levels adjustment in Photoshop.

Okay, last but not least in ACR I tweaked the cyan/red-blue/yellow fringing (and yes, this is another huge benefit of working in ACR because this cannot be done nearly as well in Photoshop) as shown below -

Notice the new feature in v4–the option to defringe all edges. Do it. I haven't noticed any ill effects and it works like a charm. Really. But you can turn it off or have it just defringe the highlight edges as well.

Okay, so that takes us through all the raw edits in ACR to get to the second image above. Now it's time to do some (minor) tweaking in Photoshop that we can't do in ACR (yet–my guess is it is just a matter of time even though there is and will always be the difference of linear vs. non-linear).

One key ingredient about color management that I did not point out (well, until now)–I always convert my .dng files from raw to Photoshop using the ProPhoto RGB color space (you'll notice in the bottom left corner of the Photoshop window). It is the largest color space and allows me to keep as many of the colors as my 20D's image sensor captured. Any other space will throw away more colors, but this is of course just another preference of mine. In ACR, you can choose Adobe RGB, sRGB and Colormatch (uh, yeah–never use that one unless you like really flat, desaturated photos).

So the first thing I do is to dupe my Smart Object layer by right-clicking it and choosing 'New Smart Object via Copy' from the contextual menu and run a Shadows/Highlights adjustment on it that gets the image to this point -

Have I not mentioned that Smart Objects are sweet? Well, Smart Filters are, um, just as sweet. In days of old, if you wanted to run a powerful filter like Shadows/Highlights you had to dupe your background layer (doubling your file size). And once you ran the filter, it was done. Now, you can just dupe the Smart Object layer (just a layer, not the same as doubling your image size), run the filter, apply a mask to the filter, choose a blending mode and–if you decide to change your mind on the settings–just double-click the Shadows/Highlights in the layers panel and it opens up the settings for you to adjust. In addition (yes, there's more) you can double-click the little triangles to the right of the Shadow/Highlights layer name which opens up a blending options dialog. This allows you to blend the filter with any of Photoshop's twenty-seven blending modes. That is way powerful. Check it out.

But back to the filter itself–now I know Shadows/Highlights might seem crazy and intimidating but it doesn't have to be. Really what it does is increases dynamic range (giving your image additional stops of light-dark) by compressing both ends (the shadows and highlights, hence the name). I look at images that Ansel Adams took and am mesmerized by the tone values he was able to print–this was because he developed his film and paper using über-advanced techniques he came up with that allowed him up to ten stops of light-dark vs. five or six which is what is typical from digital and even transparency captures.

But all that to say the Shadows/Highlights adjustment is crazy-powerful and probably just about completely overlooked. But anyways, here are the settings I used for this image -

The settings I used are not super-important–just play around with them. You can create some crazy HDR-looking effects by tweaking them a lot, but I am all about subtle tweaks (the same for the Recovery and Fill Light sliders in ACR–they do roughly the same thing as Shadows/Highlights).

Oh, quick–to get all of these options make sure the 'Show More Options' checkbox is checked. And once you dial in some settings you like, choose to 'Save As Defaults' at the bottom of the adjustment window. But basically what I was after it to do was to open up the shadow detail and give slightly more detail in the highlights. Perfect. Moving on.

The next thing I do is to clone anything that annoys me. Like in this case and as shown above, the dude walking on the rocks and his tent. Gone. Now unfortunately I missed the fact that the two dead trees at left bugged me until I had made a bunch of adjustments, so that layer is called 'clone_trees' and we'll get to it in a bit.

Anyways, sticking with small tweaks I took out some blue saturation on the rocks that are in shadow on the left as shown below -

Then–and this is where it helps to maybe have some sort of photographic vision for the shot because really the image looks just fine now (at least in my opinion) but I felt like it would look a little better if I lightened the reflection along the edge of the water like this -

OK, more detail about that move. This involved creating an empty Levels adjustment layer (by 'empty' I mean one where I did not actually do anything to the Levels–I just created the layer and then used it to set a blending mode. In this case, I used the Screen setting (which can be seen just under the 'Layers' panel name at top right), which just subtracts pixel values of the top layer from all of the layers beneath. I don't know, feel free to think it looked better without lightening it. I did take the adjustment down by lowering the opacity from the default 100% to 40% (remembering my motto of just minor tweaks) as shown just to the right of the blending mode.

Of course there is also a layer mask involved here, which I created by just creating a rectangular marquee from the bottom of the image to the water line, taking the selection into Quick Mask and blurring it 10 pixels with the Gaussian blur filter and then applying a vertical black-to-white gradient from the bottom to the top of the selection. This created a mask that only lightened the water near the water line and leaving the bottom of the image untouched.

What I could have additionally done was invert the selection, take it into Quick Mask and use the Paint Bucket tool to fill the top half (which would leave just a gradient from mid-water to the bottom of the frame) and then do a Multiply layer (like what I did with the sky below) and bring down the opacity so it just slightly darkens the bottom of the water (although I would also mask off the green grass at bottom right). That would give it a slightly more pronounced look.

But anyways, in order to bring back some shape after extending the dynamic range with the Shadows/Highlights adjustment, I do two things–add black (for contrast) back in using a Selective Color adjustment layer like this -

which makes the image look like this (putting black back in the shadows after opening them up with Shadows/Highlights) -

and then do another empty Levels layer–this time set to blend using Soft Light which just darkens all pixels less-than a value of 128 (which is just middle grey in the scale from 0-255) and lightens pixel values greater than 128 to give it this look (it also increases the effect of the reflection in the water you might notice beyond just giving everything slightly more contrast) -

Okay, getting there.

But just like Ansel Adams–who tweaked his negatives a ton in the darkroom–I like dramatic skies, so I darkened the sky up by first creating a mask that lets the layer just tweak the sky and then using the Multiply blending mode on yet another blank Levels layer -

The mask was created by using the Rectangular Marquee tool to select from the horizon line up, then going in with the Color Range selection tool to select the blue in the sky. Do not use the Magic Wand tool. Ever. Again. To lessen the effect along the horizon and give it a more natural look, I then applied a vertical gradient to the sky mask so that along the horizon the multiply effect did nothing and increased as it went up.

Next (we're almost done, really) I wanted to give a little more shape to the granite by slightly lightening the quarter-tones. I did this using a Curves adjustment layer set to the Luminosity blending mode so that only the L values (the Lightness values, in other words) are effected–meaning no color change is made, which would be the case if the mode was left to Normal.

The curve simply darkens the 3/4 tones while lightening the mid- and quarter-tones to give the granite this look -

And then I noticed the image looked a little lighter on the right side than the left, probably because of where the sun was hitting. So this is just totally my opinion but I thought I should darken the right side slightly to even the image out as a whole. I did this by using another adjustment layer set to Multiply and created a crazy gradient mask by combining two gradients (one right-to-left gradient and one from top-to-bottom) -

Notice the opacity is set to 30%–just a minor adjustment. The reason for the up-down gradient was I did not want to darken the green clump of grass at the bottom right corner.

And then lastly–it finally hit me (duh) that the two dead trees on the left sort of stuck out so I cloned them out (and, um, making sure to include removing their reflections) -

Oh–and just one more tweak ... boosting the yellow and green saturation each by a smidge (just 10%) using a Hue/Saturation adjustment layer of the Yellows and Greens with a layer mask created by using the Color Range selection tool (did I mention to never use the Magic Wand? Seriously. It is all about Color Range) -

And then I added my cheesy watermark for all of those who like to download images from the web to use as their desktop (no worries, but they either have to know how to clone or live with my name on their desktop so there) -

And there you have it. And just so you don't have to scroll back to the top–raw from the camera (like what you would get if you shot JPEG) looked like this -

None of the adjustments were big–no huge moves by any of them (the biggest change was from as-shot to the edited raw file from within ACR). But cumulatively–they add up to take the shot from immediately above to the one above that.

And that is the anatomy of an image.

casualities.

A♯2 and B2 bass strings snapped when trying to bring them up about two hundred cents or so (a semi-tone-ish) from where they were. Yikes. But I will fix those strings by tying a short piece of wire and knotting it with the existing bass strings back to the pins. No worries.

per aspera ad astra.

Less ambiguous but still ambiguous. Still working the idea out in my head but some of it laid out now in Logic oddly enough a very heavy sound whereas when I first heard it in my head it was just piano and then slowly grew to have orchestrated synths but maybe this is just another version or a different version overdriven arpeggiated guitars and all and who knows what will become of it. Or maybe start with a quiet piano low in the tenor section as always rising rising rising to an enormous crescendo to what I have recorded an orchestra and a band playing furiously a voice rising higher and higher above it all to come to a crashing ending where the song is all in C♯-minor but right at the enormous end a three-note progression then ... the B major sustained held out (with perhaps an intermittent G♯-sharp minor) until a triple-forte crash of the big C♯-minor chord and a decay of them all. I will have to cull through books and such to find lyrics for what is going through my head but will get there. Will get there. Just a piece for now ~

we have held the sword of Damocles

known the fortune it perceives and now must finally repreve

we cannot translate we must proceed ad astra

we must proceed ad astra

ad astra

blisters and such and the art of needing to be uncomfortable.

17 august 2009. There was a week back end of July that it was hot. As in hot. Not humid cos this is the Northwest but it hit a hundred and seven apparently in town while the house hit ninety-one. Seemed everyone rushed out to scramble for every last window a/c unit at the local Home Depots and such. It lasted a week then it was back to more normal temps.

But it made me think I guess.

So did our vacation to California the week before where it was really hot. Yes, hot. Sacramento and Bishop. Even Yosemite Valley. Oliver of course does not have a/c cos well this is the Northwest. Our a/c was a spray bottle that we would aim at each other for some respite. Windows down didn't help much. It was still hot. But we survived of course. And I thought maybe it would wind up Julian telling his kids years from now how he would take these road trips with his dad down to California for summer vacations and bake in the car with no a/c but that was just part of the experience cos we would see such fantastic things and have such amazing adventures. Just part of the fun in a way the suffering. Besides it being nostalgic we won't remember how uncomfortable it was. We made it twenty-five hundred miles and have some incredible memories.

And that made me think I guess.

But so did a weekend spent in the North Cascades a couple weeks ago. We were headed for Hidden Lake, a destination of mine for a couple of years ever since seeing a photo of it on Flickr. Up the trail steep of course cos it was the North Cascades in which there are no gentle-graded trails. Under the sun it was hot and the biting flies were atrocious. Just don't stop to put on sunscreen or drink some water. Bushwacking despite the fact there was a hint of a trail. Just a hint, mind you. Did I mention it was steep? No worries of course I was home. And before we knew it we're above it all on granite making our way to the saddle between the Hidden Lake Peaks the lookout peeking out from the summit off to our right.

And then there were blisters from shoes too small. Blisters but no complaining. And they were big and I felt bad. Granted I was fine that time but it would be me the following week socks worn too thin time to be retired up to Cascade Pass then Sahale Glacier and over to a ridge dropping off to glaciers on three sides. And even then no complaining. Want to go climb up Mixup Arm? Sure, we're in the mountains and I don't want to leave. Not yet anyway and there's no hurry.

But the second day of that Hidden Lake weekend a go then the day after on North Twin Sister not helping her blisters any. Hobbling on the way back I guess I wasn't supposed to notice. Thirsty. As in really thirsty since there is no water on the route after maybe the second mile. And we biked another eight miles or so before hiking about three and turning around. Running out of time. Someone running out of energy. Not us. No complaining.

So what?

So what about blisters and being thirsty and swatting at bugs? ... okay, the bugs are annoying. But get high enough and they're not a problem. I've never had to swat a bug on a glacier. Julian once said to me 'Dad there are indoor people and there are outdoor people.' Good thing I thought not everyone is an outdoor person or it would be impossible to get a permit for Boston Basin in August or the Enchantments in October. It's already hard enough. But for us outdoor people I guess what's the point? It takes a lot of energy to get up into the mountains. There are no lavish accommodations. It's exciting to find a flat spot with some rocks piled up to block the prevailing wind underneath (or right on top of) a summit of some peak or other in which to toss down your nylon bivy sack and half-inch thick foam pad. We're not forced to do it of course. It would have been so much easier not driving three hours along interstates and highways and gravel roads and hiking for miles and miles straight up sometimes whipped over by wind pelted by rain basking under intense suns. So why then?

I think it's like anything. We humans have a way of not remembering the negative. Be it a bad relationship or a bad vacation. We weed out the bad stuff and just remember the good. There's always something good. Or so I think. Walking down after nearly reaching the base of the west ridge on North Twin hot and thirsty and dying for some real food (and it had only been two days–it'll be something to do the John Muir Trail with Julian after he graduates and we're out for twenty-one days along that dusty trail) I remember thinking about blisters and such and the need to be uncomfortable. Because these days we're all too comfortable too much of the time it seems. Not that I'm complaining necessarily mind you. I enjoy an espresso in the morning on the way to work. My couch. My bed. My covered porch. Etc. But I digress. Hopefully you get the point and I'm not being too preachy.

So ask a climber why he climbs. Betcha one of the most-cited reasons would be to get away from it all. To get back to basics so to speak. To be hot. To be thirsty. To be in pain at least a little from something maybe a sore back maybe a scraped knee hopefully nothing much worse but just generally not the same as in sitting on a couch back home. It's all about the elemental. We won't remember the pain anyway. When Matthew and I climbed Stuart–a climb we naîvely thought we'd do car-to-car in a day but which ended up being probably our biggest epic except for possibly the blizzard on Eldorado–I swore after two days of up and down more than I had ever done or probably could have imagined exposure out of this world exhausting but elation at sleeping out under the stars slightly cold and uncomfortable but on Stuart's summit the Milky Way arching over us then the next day getting lost dehydrated trying to find the trail back up to Longs Pass for hours going crazy me thinking damn I would never climb Stuart again.

Heh. Of course I would. Didn't take more than a week and I wished I was back there standing on a ledge with about six thousand feet of air beneath me watching the sun set shouting to Matthew to yell when he reached the summit one pitch above us cos it was well getting dark and I was well standing on a ledge six thousand feet above real solid ground. We're going to climb it again in a couple of weeks. Hell we're going to traverse the whole range or at least as far as Dragontail or Little Annapurna.

But still ... why? After all this rambling on and on maybe I don't even know how to explain. Maybe I can explain better with a snapshot (ah, the venerable snapshot–candid and personal–love 'em for what they're worth) totally relaxed in the moment.



You can't get this view from a car. Definitely not from anywhere with a/c. But that's really not the point I don't think. I think the point is more along the lines of that's the whole point. That you can't get it without working for it. It wouldn't be the same if it were any other way. Blisters and all. Cos you won't remember the blisters.

You'll just remember the view.

You'll remember waking up out of a seemingly-dead sleep something like four in the morning to a perfectly clear sky streams of the Milky Way overhead like some fantastic dream ten thousand stars above cold air against your face not even a tent for protection but perfectly calm and silent surrounded by mountains silhouetted in the dark just able to be made out horizons closed in the walls of mountains or open to infinity high above. Oh yes, you'll remember the silence. The quiet. You'll remember watching clouds spill over ridges onto glaciers without making a sound. Who you spent it with. A good friend. Good times. You'll remember that moment in the snapshot of being in that place somewhere between reality and a dream. And it will last. Much, much longer than any blister or bug bite or frustration of sore limbs or bleeding cuts.

So I can't really say why I climb or why I am so in love with mountains in any meaningful way. But I look at photos that I took. Of snapshots from summits and along ridges and across glaciers and that helps. Cos it brings back all the memories. Just not of hobbling down thirty-six switchbacks aching to be back to the car to eat real food to sleep in a real bed to crash on a couch windows open or a heater and a blanket sore feet maybe a good espresso definitely a shower only to turn around and die to do it all over again.

Blisters and all.

the way it used to be.

OK, another music post but this is the new song on repeat + repeat + repeat. Smooth. Pet Shop Boys do melancholy best.

love etc.

OK, so something a little less heavy might be called for after the past week–provided by Kathy (thank you). Love this song–but this coming from a guy with over fifty PSB CDs, singles etc. and at least a dozen pieces of vinyl. Love the line ~

Don't have to live a life of power and wealth

Don't have to be beautiful but it helps

Beautiful but it helps

Beautiful but it helps

pale horses.

Moby. Pale Horses. Wait For Me. 2009.

This is the official video which I'm not super fond of, but the song is beautiful. Imagine driving down small highways through the Sierra foothills a warm summer evening long shadows and oak trees this song on repeat windows open.

cheers

in memoriam.

To Craig Luebben on behalf of all of us who find strength and solace and comfort and fear and peace among mountains.

i am haunted by mountains.

11 august 2009. So I am sitting here on my couch next to windows looking out to grey skies trying to sum up a climb into the North Cascades that a few hours ago would have seemed easy and I was wholly intending to get to but now has taken on a whole different meaning. I am listening to some song by Bruce Springsteen called The Nothing Man on repeat not sure why. Not sure why. We were trying for the north face of Mount Buckner in the Cascade Pass region of North Cascades National Park. Second only to the Enchantments a little south and east. Or equal, just different. The Enchantments, particularly when I visit them in early Autumn when the larches have turned golden and despite even weather that can turn inhospitable in an instant (as I experienced on my first trip) seems still warm and inviting compared to maybe this heavily-glaciated and impressive and at times imposing place such as we found this trip.

We quickly made it up the thirty-six switchbacks to Cascade Pass in an hour-fifteen under cloudy skies and on top of that from there and above we fought against a wind that would continue to knock me over. Visibility was maybe fifty feet at best but we were promised sun just below the high camp at seventy-six hundred feet. We made it up the four thousand feet and nearly seven miles from the car in three hours to the promised sun and beautiful skies all the while clouds clung to the myriad of valleys below us. The Stehekin. The north and middle forks of the Cascade River. Johannesburg peaked out above then swallowed whole. A quick stop and then continued up the glacier on our way to our intended camp on the Sahale-Boston Col. It was easy-going but I knew I was getting blisters. Whatever. Half an hour later we dumped our packs at the edge of the ridge that dropped off to the Davenport glacier with an impressive view to Ripsaw Ridge and Buckner and headed up to tag the summit of Sahale while checking out the route to the Col and beyond around and past Boston. The clouds threatened to engulf Sahale. Our view was limited to a few peaks thrusting out to the west but mostly of clouds below rising quickly and the light fading so we did not linger on the summit before heading back down to our packs having easily decided not to make a go over the ridge to the Col or the Boston Glacier that evening as clouds raked over Ripsaw Ridge and poured themselves onto the Davenport. There were perfect bivy spots carved into the ridge under the summit so that is where we set up our small camp to await the morning though it was already clear in the obscured and vanishing views we had gotten of Buckner that there was very little snow on the north face and we were already fairly convinced a snow-and-ice face climb was not going to happen this year. Weeks of unseasonably hot weather coupled with record non-existent summer precipitation had left the mountains mostly bare. The wind picked up and a chill came across us as the sun set me staring out across a sea of clouds set to a fading pale light as I zipped myself into my bivy, happy that I chose to at least carry my forty-degree down bag as opposed to the other option I had considered in the name of weight of just a bag liner.

It was a perfectly clear night and then the moon rose washing out our chance for stars and meteors and the Milky Way and I fell asleep as the wind died down and a peace only found high above ridges and clouds and trees and perceived safety among mountains piled on top of mountains on top of mountains settled in.

I woke early with the light even before the sun a pale glow washing over Horseshoe Basin far below, the Sahale Glacier and west to the Hidden Lake peaks where I was exactly a week before. Eventually the sun rose. Six-thirty came and went I had no idea. We had stayed above the clouds at over eight thousand feet. Slowly we rose, easing out of our warm bags to greet the sun and sit on rocks slowly warming shielding our eyes to peer east towards Buckner and a south face that seemed just as steep as the north face and then out and across Horseshoe Basin to try and pick out how we would get back to Sahale Arm in the event we would attempt our climb. Which we more or less knew we were not doing this time but for maybe next year. Earlier.

Matthew headed down to the glacier camp. I took my time. Strapped on crampons. Hell, I had dragged them all this way. Gained Sahale's west ridge to peer down to the Quien Sabe and over to Torment, Forbidden and Eldorado above the clouds. I could see into Boston Basin. Still had no idea. It seemed so peaceful me standing in the sun peering over a ridge to mountains and glaciers some that I have climbed some that I wish to climb. I took a few photos, then joined Matthew below at the high camp where we stayed awhile watching the clouds pour over Cascade Pass a couple thousand feet below. Maybe an hour. Maybe more we sat up there chatting. We talked about being in the mountains. We tossed out climbing up Mixup Arm to Cache Col just for fun to peer over into the middle fork of the Cascade River valley and peaks like Formidable and Spider and Dome and Snowking. More and more glaciers. Everywhere.

I taped my heels and eventually we headed down onto Sahale Arm the views impressive over to Torment and Forbidden mostly lost in the clouds. Eldorado completely hidden. Then quietly at first but able to pick out the speck set against rock and ice a helicopter circling over the Taboo Glacier below Torment. Not good we said watching it circle. It must have landed and we continued on down the Arm stopping every so often to look back and not long after first spotting it we saw it again coming towards us but still below up and over Cascade Pass. I was taking photographs cos the mood the clouds were giving where we were was incredible. And then we were immersed in them all the way back to Cascade Pass where the sun broke out as we dumped our packs and headed up Mixup Arm for a quick peek to Cache Col.

It is a steep and crazy trail up Mixup and in thirty minutes we wound up on the glacier leading up to the Col. Matthew took off as the wind whipped up and we were surrounded on three sides by imposing rock walls and clouds spilling over the ridge to the west onto the glacier above. With nothing but an ice ax and not even my trusty three-ounce windbreaker I opted to head back to a bivy spot seemingly carved out directly under Mixup to wait for Matthew to do the same.

We sat there in the sun awhile just enjoying the moment in the mountains. No reason to hurry, at least not yet. But eventually it was time to go. Head back to the Pass. Head back down the thirty-six switchbacks. Head back west for some food. Head back home. Warm sunny skies. Evening light and long shadows. A beer over pizza and a burger and conversations. Slightly sunburned. Tired. Fucking tired but in a good way. Sore feet for sure. Some photographs. Of course memories of another trip to the mountains. And eventually I made my way home to crash in my bed. To write this. To still be here.

Two days later. In passing as he was leaving–a coworker to me 'did you hear about the climber who died in the Cascades this past weekend?' Shit, no. 'Where?' I said, knowing where cos we were there and knew something had gone wrong. We just knew it. My heart sank. I read Mt. Torment. I read twenty-five years of experience. I read a wife and a five-year-old daughter. I read falling into the bergschrund. I knew getting over the bergschrund on Buckner's north face–the crack between the steep ice above and the expanse of the Boston Glacier–was at times the most difficult part of the climb and something could have happened. I showed him a picture I took where we had seen the helicopter Torment and Forbidden obscured by now-seemingly menacing clouds the glacier and ice and rock forbidding and downright terrifying. We were warming ourselves on a rock a couple of thousand feet higher but only a mile or so away while a guy fell into a crack in ice ten thousand years old. Pulled out by his climbing partner. SAR called but too late. Too fucking late. He died before they could take him away.

Could have been me. Could have been Matthew. I could have been scrambling back up rocks to go for help. Under the north face of Buckner. Along Ripsaw Ridge. The glacier would not have cared. Nor would the mountain. My son probably would. Maybe a few others I don't know. All of a sudden the photograph I snapped of Torment and Forbidden there obscured by clouds. The one of Matthew contemplating something while clouds ravaged below and imposing and dark rock outlined the horizon. They both fit. Fit perfectly for maybe how I felt about the mountains and the time we spent in them at least that day. These mountains–the North Cascades–are supposed to be benign because they are my backyard and where I consider myself home when I find myself surrounded by them. They are not supposed to act this way. But of course they do. I know this fully and appreciate it as best I can. Doesn't help sometimes I guess.

I love the mountains. I could not live without them. I will return of course. I will be careful of course. I will use my intuition and ten years of experience to guide me hopefully safely through and back home again. My thoughts go out to that climber's family. My thoughts are messed up at the moment. It's still cloudy. Thankfully. It fits. Going to make something to eat. Going to lay down. Listen to music. Going to think.

I am haunted by mountains.

the 20d.

Not sure if I have just gotten somewhat lucky on timing or if it is the camera, but I have to say after a few months of owning a Canon 20D I bought used off good ol' craigslist from a photographer who had taken some pretty cool photos with it (including one I was immediately jealous of under Liberty Bell) it is exciting again to bring it along on my backcountry excursions and take pictures. Oh, and separately I also found on craigslist just the normal kit lens (an 18-55mm IS) that I got a really good deal on from some Russian kid who had me thinking initially I was about to buy some Russian knock-off but it all worked out in the end. Ah, craigslist.

But anyway, I just went out and got a few filters–(2) Hitech neutral density grads (0.3-stop and 0.6-stop, both soft edge) to fit a new Cokin P series adapter along with a Cokin circular polarizer. Those are pretty much the only filters you need to have with a digital camera, or so I think for just doing pretty run-of-the-mill landscape stuff like I tend to do. I wish I had just gotten a 0.9-stop instead of the 0.3- and also a hard-edge filter might be in my future. But that was it. I chose the body I did cos the guy selling it was including three Canon batteries with it, which run about fifty bucks a piece. I then promptly sold my Mamiya RB67 Pro-S setup which–after one backpacking trip up into the John Muir Wildnerness outside of Yosemite last year–I knew I would never again put in a backpack, rendering it fairly useless to me (um, it was really, really heavy).

So with three batteries, a couple of new 4GB cards, those filters and the body + 18-55 IS I have headed out on seemingly a bunch of trips and gotten lucky on just about all of them–from backpacking to Hidden Lake and climbing Sahale Peak (meant to be Buckner but conditions did not allow for it this time) in North Cascades National Park, to backpacking to Lower Cathedral Lake and tooling around Yosemite (all just in the last month) I have really gotten to know the 20D well and have had a lot of fun. I guess it's neat to realize that I can actually do something with the shots, too–as in print them and frame them if I ever decide to do such a thing. I thought (and probably still do) that I would like to eventually sport the 17-40L, the 10-22 USM and the 24-105L lenses (all Canon) but considering a) that is close to three grand in glass and b) the 18-55 is nice and portable and quite sharp–it might be a while before I wind up with those.

I still enjoy hauling a Hasselblad around for serious black-and-white work (I did to Cathedral Lakes–just have to develop the film), but the 20D is a fine replacement for my cherished but aged Canon G2.

buckner [to be].

The north face. Tomorrow.