Welcome to the landscape photography blog by Chuck Derus. Thanks for looking and for your comments!
Delta Dawn
Delta Dawn
It’s not the 1973 number one hit song by Helen Reddy. That song was about a faded 41-year-old Southern belle from Brownsville, Tennessee. She was obsessed with the memory of a suitor who jilted her decades ago.
The lyrics describe how the woman regularly "walks downtown with a suitcase in her hand / looking for a mysterious dark-haired man" who she says will be taking her "to his mansion in the sky."
This delta dawn is about a sunrise over an Alaskan river. The Delta River is an 80-mile-long tributary of the Tanana River. Its name in the Ahtna language is Saas Na’ (possibly meaning Sand River).
The river, pinned by the orange comment icon, is fed by the Tangle Lakes of the Alaska Mountain Range (the snowcapped peaks). It then flows north to meet the Tanana River near the town of Big Delta. The river predates the uplifting of the Alaska Mountain Range and is more than 30 million years old.
In 1980, 62 miles of waterways in the Delta River basin became part of the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System. Twenty miles are designated "wild," 24 miles as “scenic," and 18 miles as "recreational."
The Shot
On September 10, our photography group checked into the Trophy Lodge. Located at the end of the Alaska Highway in Delta Junction, it’s the only place in town that’s an all-in-one hotel, restaurant, and bar. It’s somewhat spartan, but we merely slept there.
The Trophy Lodge, courtesy of canadaspecialist.nl
Fed, relaxed by an adult beverage, and rested by a good night’s sleep, we left the next morning heading south along the Delta River. Using our drones looked promising. Flying over the river created a bird’s eye potential composition of big to small, sinuous, watery lines leading to a mountain range in the background.
We pulled over at a promising location and launched our drones. After that, it was a matter of finding the right altitude and distance downriver. After a few “almosts,” I found my ideal spot in the sky.
In a perfect world, there would have been a blazing sunrise. But we rejoiced knowing that we were blessed to be able to witness such a breathtaking landscape.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus Zenfolio | Chuck Derus
The North American Monsoon
The North American Monsoon
Monsoon season is a summer meteorological event throughout the American Southwest. Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah are usually the focus. Occasionally, California, Nevada, and Texas are included.
Contrary to popular belief, monsoon does not mean storm. Monsoon comes from the Arabic word “mausim,” or season.
Monsoon storms are an important source of water in the Southwest. Approximately 40 to 50 percent of the annual precipitation falls during the June 15 to September 30 monsoon season, according to the National Weather Service.
Winds in Arizona usually flow from the West, ensuring dry conditions. But during the monsoon season, winds shift to the South, bringing low-level moisture from the Gulf of California and triggering summer storms. Moisture can also move into Arizona from the eastern Pacific, the Gulf of Mexico, or even from the Sierra Madre Occidental forests in Mexico.
When the dew point (the temperature when condensation occurs) is around 55 degrees or higher, there is enough water to support thunderstorms. Combined with daytime surface heating (ideally 105 degrees) that causes the warm, moist air to rise, storms can form.
These storms are often short-lived, lasting less than an hour. Normally, downdrafts are near the leading edge of the thunderstorm cell. These descending downdrafts often hit the ground and are forced out ahead of the storm, creating a gust front.
In the Arizona desert, gust fronts can pick up and transport large amounts of dust and sand, creating a wall-like structure that moves ahead of the thunderstorm. The term haboob refers to this type of dust storm formed by a gust front.
An approaching small haboob in Texas.
The Shot
Our intrepid group of monsoon thunderstorm chasers renamed our August tour the Nonsoon tour. Dry, scorching hot air with daytime temperatures up to 115 degrees prevented any moisture from reaching the Tucson, Arizona area.
On the second-to-last day of our tour on August 8, the temperature was cooler, and moisture was moving in from the south near the border town of Nogales. We watched several thunderstorms, but they all fizzled out without any significant rain or lightning.
As daylight faded, a beautiful storm just over the border in Mexico began dumping rain and producing lightning bolts. Today’s single image compensated for the prior five days of severely clear and deadly hot non-photogenic days.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus Zenfolio | Chuck Derus
Pizza...and Fjords?
Fjords…and Pizza?
Pizza for dinner. Not once, not twice, but four times! It’s the last thing I expected when I recently visited Norway.
Our photography group traveled from Trondheim, to Sunndal, to Andalsnes, to Stryn, and finally to Alesund photographing fall colors in the fjords. As usual, we ate at off hours and in smaller towns. Pizza restaurants were everywhere!
I expected seafood. But as you can see below, Norway leads the world in pizza consumption at 25 pounds per person per year.
https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/pizza-consumption-by-country
On October 12, we were staying in Andalsnes. Because sunset was relatively early at 6:34 pm, we were back in town in plenty of time for dinner. And what was the closest restaurant to our hotel? A pizza joint, naturally.
And because we wanted to make it easy on the waitstaff, what did we order? Pizza. It’s what’s for dinner in Norway, apparently.
The Shot
The weather made this trip challenging. The winds were Westerly off the Atlantic Ocean bringing in rain and fog. One violent, windy nighttime storm early in our trip brought down most of the fall foliage. In addition, it triggered a landslide that knocked out power to our hotel for several hours.
The trick in those conditions is to keep repeating, “Bad weather makes for good photographs.” Bad weather can sometimes transform mundane into magnificent. But rain grounds drones and camera weatherproofing has its limits.
On October 14, we were near Utigardselva. There were bands of fog and low clouds with just occasional mist. We finished piloting our drones near a mountain waterfall and finished the mile long hike back to our parked cars. Just as we arrived, we glimpsed a peek at the peak. The tip of the mountain we were trying to capture magically appeared.
I grabbed my “big” camera and quickly fired off two shots. Within seconds, the peak vanished in the clouds along with the composition. Without it, the shot just doesn’t work.
The next day we were off to Alesund and our first authentic Norwegian seafood dinner!
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus Zenfolio | Chuck Derus
Colors of Many Meanings
Colors of Many Meanings
What do you associate with rainbows? The answers are surprisingly diverse among various cultures.
In Native American traditions, rainbows symbolize a bridge between the earthly realm and the spirit world. They are a pathway for ancestors or spirits, signifying protection and guidance.
In Irish folklore, a pot of gold awaits at the end of a rainbow. Emphasizing the notion of fortune and the pursuit of dreams, rainbows link rewards and perseverance.
In Asian cultures, rainbows are seen as omens of harmony and positive change. They signify the union of yin and yang, embodying balance in life’s dualities.
In Mediterranean regions, rainbows symbolize peace and unity. Ancient Greek texts celebrate rainbows as a sign of goodwill among gods.
In Greek mythology, Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, functioned as a messenger of the gods. To the Greeks, rainbows reflect the relaying of messages between divine forces and humanity.
In Norse mythology, rainbows are a burning bridge reaching between Earth and Asgard, the realm of the gods. A rainbow signifies accessibility to divine wisdom and protection against chaos.
Finally, in Hinduism, the rainbow is a manifestation of the divine and a bridge between mortal and spiritual realms. It symbolizes the connection between humanity and the gods, offering blessings and hope.
The Shot
Last month I was in Alaska to photograph fall colors. We encountered quite a bit of rain during the first half of the trip. But breaks in the clouds led to interesting atmospheric events and photographic possibilities.
On September 10, near Delta Junction, Alaska, the sun was at our backs. When a shaft of light briefly broke through the clouds, the distant rain created a beautiful double rainbow.
The primary rainbow always has more intense colors and luminosity. It also has the classic “Roy G. Biv” (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet) color sequence with red on the top and blue on the bottom.
The secondary rainbow has a cool twist. The colors are reversed (Vib G. Yor?). In addition, it’s higher and lighter in color than the primary one. If you ever see a social media double rainbow image and both rainbows are Roy G. Biv, you’ve been hoodwinked by an AI created fake.
The beautiful double rainbow brought a sense of serenity and gratitude to my being. After composing and taking my image, I just stood there appreciating nature’s beauty until this ephemeral sight abruptly vanished as the sun went behind the clouds.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus Zenfolio | Chuck Derus
Snowliage
Snowliage
Usually, it’s one season or another. I can be photographing in the fall, winter, spring, or summer.
But when I’m very lucky, two adjacent seasons collide. And when they do, the transitions are oftentimes visually compelling.
When fall and winter merge, California landscape photographer Michael Castaneda calls it “snowliage.” The combination of fresh snow and colorful fall foliage is a photographer’s delight.
The Shot
I just returned from a fall photography trip to Alaska. While we didn’t expect snow, it’s always a possibility in the far North.
Our first few days were bleak with overcast skies and intermittent rain. On September 11, while driving to Talkeetna, the rain occasionally turned to snow.
As we drove, we were looking for repeating layers of trees separated by the snow. Finally, enough layers appeared on a short stretch of the highway with suitable foreground trees mixed with fall colors.
We piled out of our vehicle to quickly photograph the scene. Selecting a slow shutter speed caused the snow to streak, an effect that seemed to bring life to the snowstorm. And the snow perfectly complimented the fall colors. It was the best of both seasons.
Just as quickly as the layers appeared, they disappeared when heavier snow caused distant layers to disappear. And when the snow lessened, we lost the separation between the layers.
I’ll be taking the next two weeks off, so the next Friday Photo will be October 18.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus Zenfolio | Chuck Derus