Golds

connecting with Golds...
A big, lazy part of me is still looking forward to the moment when I create a photo masterpiece in my backyard. This was a close call, though. It took me a 7-minute drive from my house to enjoy this beautiful sunrise fog over the Potomac River. I even managed not to miss my morning coffee.
The Old Rag hike being one of the most popular in the Mid-Atlantic and attracting more than a thousand hikers on a good day can easily get lines longer than Georgetown Cupcake due to some narrow and relatively technical passages in its rock-scramble section and people not quite prepared for that. The best way to beat the crowd would be to hike the mountain at night. About an hour of romantic forest trail with steady incline, another hour for rock scrambling and one could be rewarded with a gorgeous sunrise over Virginia’s Piedmont. You might even make it to the summit faster if you are lucky enough to spot a black bear in the pitch-darkness.
This spot, not far from the entrance of Arches National Park, could be a decent one for people who, like me, are too lazy to drive farther while still half-asleep.
The glowing effect of Colorado aspens in the fall.
Fifteen minutes after the incredible pre-sunset light came into resonance with the color of the blueberry bushes, twilight took over. By some invisible signal, all the woody hollows around the spot became a chorus of howling coyotes. I’m not sure which part of that evening gave me the most memorable chills.
While a long exposure during high tide can create the effect of thick fog instead of water, a long exposure during low tide turns the sand into a magical mirror.
I was ready to ask my wife to drive our car up and down the road to create the effect I was looking for when, finally, a few cars passed by and gave me what I needed. As for my wife, she didn't get her chance to escape and had to keep pretending she liked the silly process she was involuntarily involved in.
This park might not offer the grand sceneries that many places on the West Coast have, but I love it for its compactness, coziness, and diversity of landscapes and seascapes. Except for one remote part of the park, everything is reachable within fifteen to thirty minutes. Lakes and mountains, meadows and rocky coasts, sunsets and lighthouses. Ah, and breweries too!
One of those photos where I didn't initially expect anything to play out. Only after looking at it on a big screen and applying some post-processing magic did it reveal its complexity and beauty.
I strongly believe that the colors in Utah have a life of their own, not obeying the usual laws of physics. How else could one explain that the cool tones of the blue hour highlight the landscape while making it glow with such intense shades of red?
The area of Dolly Sods traditionally sees fall colors much earlier in the season. Behind me is the Dolly Sods plateau; even farther behind are Canaan Valley and the Allegheny Mountains. The slightly higher elevation of these regions makes the temperature noticeably lower than anywhere else in the Mid-Atlantic. Right in front of me, in the valley below, fall is only now starting to show its snap. Dolly Sods is indeed a unique place—allegedly resembling the Canadian tundra more than other regions of the Appalachians.
On the verge of day and night, between clouds and clear sky.
Sunset at Yellowstone Lake. Consistent smoke from the Western wildfires dominated the sky those days. Which in turn resulted in interesting light effects.
One of the reasons I love photography is the absolutely priceless feeling of utmost balance and completeness that I experience when driving back after evenings like this. It doesn't matter what the final result, picture-wise, will be. What matters is the experience I've been lucky to live through.
One doesn’t often have a chance to feel like a saint. Unless it’s gliding on a surface of a many-mile wide but just two-inch deep lake. What typically is vast salt flats of the lowest point in the North America, recently turned into ephemeral lake due to the unprecedented rainfall in the park the past 6 months. Previously it happened almost 20 years ago. Nobody knew how long it would last this time. The Death Valley is undoubtedly full of life. The quintessence of its fleeting aspect.
The beginning of a new day brings a sense of life to this somewhat apocalyptic location.
Crack of dawn at Arches National Park.
I was extremely lucky to spend three mornings on this beach around Christmas time, with each morning bringing amazing sunrises and the entire beach all to myself.
Winter in Virginia and nearby states typically means no foliage and no snow either. Which makes landscape photography not that fruitful. Well, it also makes rare snowfalls and foggy mornings even more precious. And sunsets… Sunsets are the best this time of the year.
Sunrise over Yellowstone lake.
One of the very few occasions when I — after looking at the sky — told myself, “There must be some beautiful light tonight,” and was right. Typically, my inner amateur meteorologist lies bluntly. Professional ones, however, lie even more. It's so good to be an amateur...
Photography as a hobby is a mini version of my life. It doesn’t make much sense; I'm just desperately trying to get as much beauty out of it as I can. And even though it often feels like a competition, there is actually nothing and no one to compete with.
When blue and golden hours meet.
I like to think about this photo as the one marking a new period of my hobby. More involved and determined. Perhaps because waking up that winter morning after an almost sleepless night brought a funny mixed sensation of utmost beauty and suffering. “Looks like I just got the very essence of landscape photography“, I thought to myself.
Other themes:
Deserts gallery
Deserts
Landscapes gallery
Landscapes
Rocks gallery
Rocks
Seascapes gallery
Seascapes
Skies gallery
Skies
Trees gallery
Trees
Waterfalls gallery
Waterfalls