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On the circuit in Torres del Paine National Park, Patagonia, Chile

D. Craig Young · April 12, 2022 · 2 Comments

Patagonia morning. The idyll of Puerto Natales, Patagonia, Chile

In January, I had the good fortune to travel to Chile with my good friend, Bill Bloomer. We planned this after the rise-and-fall of Covid’s delta variant thinking that, just maybe, the window would remain and, with due care, we could wander a few distant places once again. And then there was omicron.

Click here for Patagonia Image Collection

I have already given our decision away. With our triple-play of vaccinations and several tests of various varieties, we left the winter of northern Nevada to find summer in Santiago, Chile. After a few days acclimatizing to the new season – really an unneeded, built-in buffer in case of travel delays, we flew to Puerto Natales to meet up with the other three members of our trekking party and our two guides. Once oriented, we caught a van to the entrance at Torres del Paine National Park and, almost immediately, started walking. It would have been hard not to; the magnetic beauty of the Torres pulling us forward.

A glimpse. The towers of Cerro Torre peek above the moraine, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

We were there to hike the O Circuit, eighty-six miles, give or take, circumnavigating the park over eight days. It is basically a hut-to-hut or camp-to-camp daily walk, with all parties traveling in a counter-clockwise direction. The O Circuit incorporates the well-traveled and somewhat more popular “W”, where travel is a bit less regulated given its possibilities of relatively easy access and multiple variations. While the “W” offers up the requisite highlights of Torres del Paine, the “O” provides a full-immersion trek, accessing the park’s wilder backcountry on a single-track path of diversity and, indeed, sublime experience. Only a climbing expedition into the high glaciers, ridges, and walls would be more remote.

El equipo del senderos. Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

Our group, unknown to each other prior to our rendezvous in Puerto Natales, consisted of a nicely diverse group of experienced hikers. Although our previous hiking resumes varied from demanding day-hiking to month-long jungle excursions to backcountry mountaineering to multi-day Himalayan treks, we bonded with each other easily over the first few days but had taken to our two wonderful Chilean guides immediately. We could not have been more fortunate getting to know Karina and Andrea.

Walking among mountains II, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

I was there to experience the mountains of Patagonia and hoped to follow dramatic light among peaks I had dreamed of since I first flipped through climbing magazines in high school. I no longer crave the technical climbs, but as a wanderer and photographer, I still sought the experience of nature’s light – cool or warm, drama or subtlety – along the trails and hills in front of me. I was soon immersed in the pleasurable pace of our point-to-point hikes. I did, however, find it difficult to get into the mindset of photography. First, with two exceptions, we had mostly sunny days filled with blue skies; wonderful days for walking and absorbing the beauty of the boundless expanse of Torres del Paine, but difficult days for creating compositions that would express the feelings of that expanse. Also, we did have to keep a basic daily schedule, whether hiking seven miles or fourteen. The camps – whether in bunkhouses or tents – provided all the provisions we needed, wonderfully throughout the trek – luxurious in a Chilean backcountry way. This afforded the opportunity to get out early and stay out a little late, but I struggled for focus in these places unknown to me. I would generally wander along at the back of our group, watching for birds and admiring the variety of habitats and landforms along our trail. It was always so good. The trail sections were not difficult, although the steep, bouldery and brushy drop from John Garner Pass into the valley of Glacier Grey was an exception. This took a good all-day effort, a pleasure nonetheless.

On two days, however, the drama of Patagonia reigned. On our first-day foray into the Rio Ascencio we followed a storm that prevented any visit to Lago Torres at the foot of the iconic pinnacles. The clearing storm hinted at the power the atmosphere ripping between two oceans. Then calm set in, for days. Finally on our penultimate day, and fortunately as we traversed the foot of the Paine Grande to climb in the French Valley, drama returned. It was perfect – wind-driven squalls tore at my jacket and pack, trees slashed and were suddenly calm, avalanches thundered from Paine Grande, and dark clouds cut among the peaks where sunlight flashed rainbows to light the granite walls. So perfect, that for long moments I could not hold back tears – the light, wind, and rain overwhelmed me so simply that I had to pause in the perfect emotion, for long moments the beauty surrounding me was beyond words and my eyes were literally full. My favorite images come from this day.

Paine Grande. Sunrise and approaching rain, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile
A light rain. Early drama on the edge of Los Cuernos, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile
Hanging blue. The hanging glaciers of French Valley peak from the storm, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

I should have anticipated this. The day prior a Chimango Caracara (Phalcoboenus chimango) played with me on the footslopes of Paine Grande. The Chimango is a common falcon here, but her eyes seduced me into believing she was the only thing worthy of attention. She inquired into my presence and finally released me back to the trail. The storm was coming and maybe that was the message she stared into me – why would I be there if not to experience her mountain. Silly stuff, but I am keeping it with me for a while.

Eyes of Chimango. The Chimango Caracara visits the trail, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

Click here for Patagonia Image Collection

The best thing about the O Circuit is that it gets better each day. It soothes you into rolling hills along floodplains of the Rio Paine. It climbs into glacial lakes that yesterday only peaked from the bases of massive glaciers and icefields. It wanders through beech woodlands to dance at the foot of waterfalls cascading from the backs of the Torres. Astounding hanging valleys of Glacier de los Perros and Glacier Amistad Glacier culminate at John Garner Pass overlooking Glacier Grey and the South Patagonian Icefield (the second largest, non-polar, contiguous expanse of ice). From Glacier Grey, one is led to the foot Paine Grande and into the drama of French Valley – the “W” is joined at Glacier Grey, its arms reaching into adjacent valleys. The black-capped Cuernos rise above Lago Nordenskjold as the O closes back at Rio Ascencio. If someone planned the required counter-clockwise circuit, it had to be with this sublime build to closure. A perfect trek.

Attention. This ridge held my gaze throughout the day, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

Over the next few weeks, I hope to present a ‘behind-the-image’ for a photograph taken on each day of the circuit. It will augment this Patagonia Collection, which also may evolve as I continue to digest this group of 50 or so images from a wonderful experience – ultimately culling these to a ‘calendar’ portfolio of a dozen or so prints. Thanks to Bart, Bill, Rosalind, and Sarah; it was such a pleasure. Utmost thanks to Karina and Andrea for sharing their homeland with us, it was an honor to walk, learn, and laugh with you.

Keep going.

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands.

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Winter’s Coming to the Eastern Sierra, CA

D. Craig Young · January 5, 2022 · 1 Comment

Plutonic glow. A storm clears at dawn in the. Alabama Hills, Eastern Sierra, CA, USA

We were closing out the 2021 field season in Owens Valley, and I had been on a long circuitous road trip working on projects in San Diego, California, visiting with colleagues in Henderson, Nevada, and traversing Death Valley to return to our team working on the fans of the Owens Lake basin. While we wrapped up our fieldwork, the first solid winter storm bore down on the Sierra. Travel home was not possible. The storm meant steady rain in Lone Pine, California, our lodging and logistical base, with the Sierra massif clouded over. I took some time to wrap up some field mapping in the southern valley, taking advantage of the road closures that precluded a homebound journey.

Eastern Sierra – Winter’s Coming Collection

Inyo squalls. Strom clouds clearing from the Inyo Mountains, Great Basin Desert, CA, USA

Soon, however, the storm caught up with me and the graded roads of the Olancha and Walker fans were flooded. I retraced my way around to the east side of the valley and visited the falling dunes of the Centennial benches, a small dune-set on the Highway 190 as it climbs out of Owens Valley. I really enjoy this small falling dune and adjacent sand ramps as they move across the dramatic black basalt of the local rimrock benches. Today, the wind was the subject. I was pushed by gusts and polished by grains as a worked low on the dune to tell the story of the wind and its motive power. No changing lenses in these conditions, but I chose well, and I am happy with the results.

Aeolian rush. Reworking of a falling dune, Owens Valley, Great Basin Desert, CA, USA
Ripples repose. Storm winds rearrange the falling ripples, Owens Valley, Great Basin Desert, CA, USA

The rains finally reached the desert side with the Inyo and Coso mountains soon engulfed in clouds and sheeting rain. I was not quite finished, however. I worked my way into blue hour in the Alabama Hills looking for small scenes in the fading light under the stormy clouds – only the lower mountain-front was visible. The barrel cactus seemed to bend the blue light into a kind of warmth, needles glowing against the cold rocks and sandy grus. Looking for a different perspective, I crawled into a tight cave-like alcove to keyhole small cactus. I am not sure it works but the contortion effort of lifting the camera into the slotted crevices to frame a hoped for subject had me laughing out loud; I am sure a strange solitary sound in the windy evening.

Barrel window. Blue hour and cactus in the Alabama Hills, Eastern SIerra, CA, USA
Storm ball. Alabama Hills, Eastern Sierra, CA, USA

I returned to the hotel to hope for a break in road conditions so I could get home. I had logged over 1600 miles on this outing, and the first pangs of homesickness are more acute when conditions change the plan. Clearing skies of the following morning brought reward. Forecasting the changing conditions, I hurried back into the Alabama Hills before dawn. I once again patrolled Movie Road. Driving its full extent and returned eventually to the newly restricted ‘Day Use’ area where the road first bends sharply east. The Sierra crest beckoned, and I had great pleasure watching the refreshed skies on Lone Pine Peak. The light of the Sierra, a gift accepted once again.

Eastern Sierra – Winter’s Coming Collection

Interior pipes. Early sun and texture in the Alabama Hills, Eastern Sierra, CA, USA

Keep going.

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands.

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Playa and Pottery – Black Rock Desert Region, NV

D. Craig Young · January 4, 2022 · 2 Comments

Calico morning. Black Rock Desert, NV, USA

The playa passes quietly beneath the truck, a narrow path traced by the headlights in the predawn darkness. I had left Desna at Planet X to see what the sunrise might bring on the Black Rock Desert playa. A canopy of bright stars suggested that the desert sunrise would be quick; a transition from an early glow to generally blue skies. I had been spoiled by a few Sierran storms and had hoped for something, anything to add some variety to the vast skies above the expanse of the playa – even as the forecasts had ridiculed my fervent wishes.

Black Rock and Planet X Collection

Playa before dawn. Black Rock Desert, NV, USA.

I rolled to a stop as the eastern sky brightened and turned to brewing coffee on the tailgate as a trolled for mud cracks to highlight a foreground. The regular patterns revealed little other than general chaos; I tried to stack a few frames in the long vertical panorama but was unsuccessful. It was the distance the drew my newly caffeinated awareness. Nothing overly dramatic, but the dusty sky held its own glow and I played a bit in the quickly changing light. I was happy that the playa was relatively quiet, only a few camps this late in the season.

Playa horizons. Black Rock Desert, NV, USA

It is time for some winter rain and runoff to rejuvenate the playa surface. With the quickly harsh light, I returned to Planet X Pottery to browse among the artwork as John and Rachel prepared for another day of the holiday show and sale. Always a quiet pleasure to visit the oasis that is Planet X.

Greeters. Planet X Pottery, Smoke Creek Desert, NV, USA
Dragonfly. The art of Planet X Pottery, Smoke Creek Desert, NV, USA
Pendulum desert. Planet X Pottery, Smoke Creek Desert, NV, USA
Four horses once. Planet X Pottery, Smoke Creek Desert, NV, USA

Black Rock and Planet X Collection

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands. #naturefirst #keepgoing

Whitney Views – Owens Valley, CA

D. Craig Young · January 3, 2022 · Leave a Comment

Sierra sunstrike. Early morning in the Eastern Sierra, Owens Valley, CA, USA

After coming down from the crest of the Inyo Mountains, having wrapped up our small project at the Saline Valley Salt Tram, I set up camp at a small playa on the east side of Owens Valley, north of Dolomite. Desna met me and we circled the wagons in a quiet spot – we had planned a quick tour of the Owens Lake ponds to see if what birds might be late in the fall migration, and I still had some work to do with our team working on the west valley fans of Cartago Creek.

Crest late evening. The long-set sun kept us watching, Eastern Sierra, Owens Valley, CA, USA

It turned out the sky over the Sierra decided to put on a show, evening and morning. The east side, beyond the Owens River, provides a long view of the Sierra crest. The view of Whitney is rather iconic, with easy, attractive compositions coming from Alabama Hills, at shoulder-side on Highway 395, or further out in Owens Valley, where I sat now. There is not much of a story here, just my opportunity to share sunstrike with Desna and enjoying some nice light on the Eastern Sierra and its high point (a summit I have yet to reach, by the way – although my attraction is weakened by the necessary permit process).

Whitney Views Image Collection

Whitney and the needles. An approaching storm brings changes in the early morning of the Eastern Sierra, Owens Valley, CA, USA

The long lens allowed me to sit in camp and wait. The colors of blue hour, just after sunset, when the fading glow reflected by the western glows, filled the sky from the Sierra to the Inyos but lasted about five minutes. I settled on a crest view of Lone Pine Peak and the crags south of Whitney. It was sunstrike in the new drama of the following sunrise that proved magical. I climbed out of the camper with the portent clouds scudding above the dark peak, my tripod already set up above a cold, unused fire ring. Even when I am not photographing, sunstrike on the Eastern Sierra is wonderful. Today, and tomorrow, was special.  

Whitney Views Image Collection

Whitney morning highlights. Sunstrike brings contrast and depth to the Eastern Sierra, Owens Valley, CA, USA

Keep going.

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands. #naturefirst #keepgoing

Saline Valley Salt Tram – Inyo Mountains, CA

D. Craig Young · January 3, 2022 · 7 Comments

Moving over mountains. The remnant superstructure of the Salt Tram Summit Station above Saline Valley, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA

In early November, a few colleagues and I traversed the challenging 4×4 trail that skirts the ridge line of the Inyo Mountains, from Cerro Gordo high above Owens Lake, to the remaining historic-era structures of the Saline Valley Salt Tram. Although subject of a heroic restoration project several years ago, the summit structure remains exposed to the elements, of course, but it is also exposed to the rigors of heavy visitation. While most visitors are impressed by the remains and awed by the effort required in its construction, vandalism, whether purposeful or simply irresponsible, is an on-going concern. Our task was to map the summit structures using three-dimensional photographic tools with imagery obtained by drone. After the adventurous but grueling drive, we set up camp and prepared for some early morning flights. I am not an authorized drone operator, so I spent much of the time exploring the ruins and photographing from the ground.

Saline Valley Salt Tram Collection

Out of Saline. A tram stanchion above Saline Valley, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA
Salt feed. The summit station feeds Owens Valley to the west, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA
Salt intake. The receiving end of the summit tram station above Saline Valley, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA
Cable guide. Superstructure in the summit tram station, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA
Joinery. Hardware and wood in the salt tram summit station, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA
Mapping tools. Photo transects by drone, documenting the summit station, Inyo Mountains, CA, USA

The tram transported salt from Saline Valley over the ridgeline of the Inyo Mountains and down to Swansea at the shore of Owens Lake. Dozens of stanchions in various states of preservation mark the route from one side of the mountains to the other; the stanchions, leading to and from the summit station, supported and guided cables and their swinging carts; they can still be traced today across the distance. It is an amazing story of engineering and effort, for a relatively short-lived operation.

Saline Valley Salt Tram Collection

I am not typically interested in photographing structures, but these stoked an interest, especially given the uninteresting light and weather on the perfectly blue-sky, fall days we experienced on our little project expedition. I would have better luck during the changing weather once I was back in the valley bottom – I was headed back to the landforms of the Olancha and Cartago margins of Owen Lake at the foot of the eastern Sierra.

Keep going.

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands.

#naturefirst #keepgoing

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