Tag Archives: hamilton

Photographer Charlotte Hamilton Gibb

Photographer Charlotte Hamilton Gibb
Landscape photographer Charlotte Hamilton Gibb works the summer evening light along the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park

Photographer Charlotte Hamilton Gibb. Yosemite National Park, California. July 12, 2015. © Copyright 2015 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Landscape photographer Charlotte Hamilton Gibb works the summer evening light along the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park

This photograph was one result of a wonderful set of coincidences in the Yosemite high country. I had gone up to the Tuolumne Meadows area for a few days of photographing mid-July. I arrived midday, managed to get a campsite, set everything up, hung out a bit… and it was time to figure out what to photograph in the late afternoon and evening. As sometimes happens, especially on the first day of such a trip, when I’m still working my way back into “the zone,” I didn’t have a plan. So I decided to simply get in my vehicle and head back to the west along Tioga Pass Road and look for some interesting potentials in the light and the scenery. At one point I caught a glimpse of some interesting light on trees and I quickly pulled over into a clearing at the side of the road. I noticed two other cars already there and a woman getting out of one of them, and I thought “I hope I’m not annoying her.” Then I realized that she was a friend and her husband was parked one car up. Claudia and Michael and I exchanged greetings and quickly decided to join forces and head out across the meadow.

As we crossed to the other side I saw another couple, one with a serious looking tripod, who seemed to be following us. we paused at the far side of the meadow and they caught up — it was Charlotte and her husband. Now the party was becoming larger! We headed slowly downstream, talking and watching for subjects, finally arriving at a spot where the river twisted through a few turns and granite slabs lined the banks. Each of us went to work on our particular views of the spot, and I made this photograph of Charlotte, focused so intently on her photograph that she was unaware that I was photographing her.


G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.
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Lick Observatory

Lick Observatory
Lick Observatory

Lick Observatory. Mount Hamilton, California. December 14, 2014. © Copyright 2014 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Lick Observatory, on the summit of Mount Hamilton

This could be a very long post, but I’ll try to keep it short. The Lick Observatory, constructed in the 1800s, sits on the highest peak within sight of my home — both the home I grew up in and the one I live it now. When I was young, one of the greatest adventures was a trip up there, especially when it snowed on the 4000’+ summit of Mount Hamilton. Years later, when I was an avid cyclist, I used to ride up to the summit at least once per month, and today I still know the road like the proverbial back of my hand.

I ended up there by accident on this late mid-December afternoon. My day started before dawn out in the Central Valley, where I had gone to photograph migratory birds. For various reasons (including the absence of geese from wildlife area where I ended up) I left the Valley earlier than usual and decided to take the longest and most isolated back-road back to the San Francisco Bay Area — and that is the 75 mile narrow road between Patterson and San Jose. The high point — quite literally — of this drive is the summit of Mount Hamilton, so I stopped there briefly to make a quick visit inside, take in the tremendous panorama of the south San Francisco Bay, and make a few photographs, including this shot of the historic observatory building.


G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
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Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.

Summer Grass, Receding Ridges

Summer Grass, Receding Ridges
Summer Grass, Receding Ridges

Summer Grass, Receding Ridges. Diablo Range, California. August 3, 2013. © Copyright 2013 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Late summer dry grass in golden hour light with distant hills receding into the haze

I made this photograph on what we sometimes refer to around here as a “random ride,” on an evening when I wanted to photograph something but didn’t have time or inclination to get to some of the usual spots. I formed a vague plan to head up towards the Lick Observatory on Mount Hamilton, above the Santa Clara Valley. I have a long history with Mount Hamilton. Since I was brought up in the Santa Clara Valley (now known to many as “Silicon Valley”), we used to head up this road when the occasional snow fell in the Diablo Range. Today they close the road when there is snow, but back then the authorities were less restrictive, and many families found their way up there to make snow men and have the rare snowball fights. Later, during a long period when I was a very serious bicyclist, I used to regularly do the 60 or so mile round trip from the valley to the summit and back, often as a morning ride. It is literally true to say that I know many of the twists and turns of this road like I know the back of my hand. As I drove up there on this evening I could still anticipate what the road would do a couple of blind turns beyond where I was.

I think I had a general idea of some photographs including oak trees and grass land, perhaps with evening vistas beyond. But as I drove it seemed like the right wasn’t quite right in most of the promising locations, and where the light was good the subjects didn’t appeal so much. But this turned out to be one of those trips on which I wasn’t anxious about whether or not I would get photographs, so I continued on and even explored a bit. In fact, when all ways said and done, I photographed exactly one subject – making several photographs of this bit of grassy ridge with the sunset light behind it on the receding hills.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | FacebookGoogle+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email

Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.

A Photograph Exposed: “Submerged Boulders, Lake, and Cliffs”

(“A Photograph Exposed” is a series exploring some of my photographs in greater detail.)

Submerged Boulders, Lake, and Cliffs
Sunlight illuminates submerged boulders near the cliff face along the High Sierra Trail – Sequioa National Park.

Submerged Boulders, Lake, and Cliffs. Sequoia National Park, California. August 6, 2008. © Copyright G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

I have backpacked in California’s Sierra Nevada range for quite a few decades. A number (a large number!) of years ago my wife and I went on a two-week trans-Sierra backpack trip that traversed the range from west to east between Crescent Meadow and Whitney Portal,  following a route known as the “High Sierra Trail.” On the third morning we left our camp and began the stiff ascent toward the pass we had to cross to enter the Kern River drainage. Near the top of the steepest part of the climb the trail momentarily leveled out and we found ourselves facing a high, rockbound lake with a perfectly vertical patterned rock face dropping straight into the water on the far side. The view seemed familiar – and I realized that it was a scene captured by Ansel Adams (“Frozen Lake and Cliffs“) in the early 1930s.  (I also later realized that there is a wonderful and well-known photograph of the subject by Vern Clevenger.)

My wife and I were enthusiastic about photography in those days, too, and we carried a couple of Pentax SLRs and a few lenses and many rolls of film into the back-country. But I don’t think I came back with more than a few “snapshots” of this lake on that trip.

Fast-forward a few decades to 2008 when a group of my backpacking friends decided to follow this same trans-Sierra route — and, of course, I had to join them. Once again, I found myself ascending the trail toward that small bowl, but this time I had a plan to photograph the lake and the equipment to do it right. I recalled parts of the climb from my previous trip, but I had probably forgotten more than I remembered during the intervening decades. As the trail traverses a beautiful wet section full of wildflowers (which I had forgotten) I could tell that the lake was just ahead, and soon I topped a small saddle and saw the familiar scene before me.

As planned, I set to work doing some of the photography that I had contemplated before the trip. To be honest, I mainly worked from more or less the location that Adams must have used, though the conditions were a bit different on this day – the light was changeable as broken clouds passed above, and there was very little snow, much less ice, left at the lake. After perhaps 30 or 45 minutes of work, my hiking partners were getting restless and it was time to move on. I felt that I had worked this scene about as much as possible under the circumstances – and I did get a photograph of the “classic view” that I like a great deal — so I loaded up my heavy 9-day backpack load, put away the camera, and strapped the tripod to the outside of the pack. I hoisted the load and slowly started up the switchbacks immediately above the lake.

A couple of switchbacks up the trail I happened to look back at the lake from a slightly higher vantage point, and from here the astonishing deep blue color of the lake and the apron of rocks falling into the water became visible. My first reaction was a combination of “Wow!” and “No way am I taking this pack off and setting all that stuff up again!” Continue reading A Photograph Exposed: “Submerged Boulders, Lake, and Cliffs”