Mount Whitney

**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

It was time for a shower. Climbing out of Death Valley, we arrived at Lone Pine, California, in the late morning, seeking refreshment and food. The hotel was not crowded so we checked in easily, cleaned up, and wandered across the street for BBQ. It was not that we ate poorly in Death Valley, we just needed to fuel up for our last outings – an evening and early morning in the Alabama Hills. Lone Pine felt strange. I had worked here for extended periods last year, and I had typically camped in my trailer. Now I was a tourist staying in town and making excursions to the Hills; the role had been switched.

Cyclops arch, sunset on Whitney, Alabama Hills — **Cyclops rays.** Scouting the arches and an experimental wait to catch the last light of the blue day.

The evening was clear with blue skies settling toward a sudden sunset. Heading toward the portal road, Randy and I grabbed a late coffee and ice cream to go. But the first curve disengaged me from my vanilla, and it dropped surprisingly in my lap (sorry about the any spot I missed Randy!) – one should not juggle espresso and a cone when chasing light. We headed north toward the ‘boot’ and the ‘cyclops’, meeting up with the team as we hiked in. With the sharp and abrupt light, and with the forecast suggesting potential for an interesting morning with storm clouds over the Sierra, we used this as a scout. Our trip would culminate in the morning.

Death Valley Collection

Quinn, Randy, and I met in the parking lot well before sunrise. We wanted to check the Milky Way potential at the ‘cyclops’. It is always a highlight of early morning walking in the star-lit desert, waiting for the granitic outcrops to loom in the light of headlamp. A distant owl warns of our approach. In the darkness of the hills the Milky Way is clear as it settles in a broad arch above the eastern horizon. The promised clouds are evident in dark patches masking stars as they tear away from the mountain front. Some may curse clouds in an astro-shot, but I have always liked any well-placed clouds especially if they simply add glow to a few of the brighter stars or provide depth and scale to the otherwise dark landscape – I am a minimal light-painter. We did, however, light the arch’s interior and committed to working on galactic images until the sun turn our attention to the Whitney massive beginning its glow in the west. The storm was at almost the perfect position, rolling over the summits with a misty gauze below the dark density of water-bearing clouds.

astrophotography at Cyclops Arch, Alabama Hills, California — **Cyclops way.** Patches of a coming storm approach the Milky Way arch over the Cyclops.

Alpen glow on Lone Pine Peak, Sierra Nevada, Alabama Hills, California — **First light**. First sun hits Lone Pine Peak overlooking the Alabama Hills. A scene I had not witnessed during the previous summer and fall camping below the peak.

Black and white image of Mount Whitney in the coming, late winter storm — **Whitney incoming**. Turning a long lens on the shroud of storm clouds on Mount Whitney.

We could tell it would not last long. The gift of alpenglow was fleeting but I think we made the most of it. I had one of my most relaxed mornings of our trip, feeling in-the-zone. I reached for long and close images of Lone Pine Peak and the needles of the Whitney summit ridge before backing away for a wide, multi-image panorama of the Range of Light. Its name written in the first cast of dawn. Our trip came to a close.

Panorama of the Sierra Nevada at Mount Whitney, Alabama Hills, California — The glow that had to last — Range of Light, California

Death Valley Collection

I write this many months and a pandemic or two later. Little did we know as we parted, separately leaving Lone Pine in the late morning, that much of our freedom to roam would fade as the mountains disappeared behind the storm clouds, replaced by seemingly intractable problems brought about by a polarized, dystopian loss of trust and community. We had these few days that we could look back on – the days when we could wander. These few photos, and the memories of comradery, remind me that, with care and effort, our wandering will return. As the landscape and its emotions teach us, let us not take it for granted.

Keep going.

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

Whitney Views – Owens Valley, CA

A glow that had to last — Death Valley, Part 3

Mount Whitney

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