Landscapes

connecting with Landscapes...
Utah usually brings way more sunny days than dramatic weather events. After seeing rain in the forecast ending right before sunrise, I definitely didn’t want to miss the chance.
Nothing hinted at good weather conditions that day. I almost gave up on the idea of photographing in the evening and planned to go to bed early instead. A large cloud in the sky and a gut feeling made me turn around when I had already passed the area. The sunset light turned out to be amazing.
All that is gold does not glitter,<br/>Not all those who wander are lost;<br/>The old that is strong does not wither,<br/>Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
I'm so lucky there was no representative of social services in this Alaska state park when my little daughter was crying, exhausted after the long hike, cold and wet in the rainy and windy highland tundra, while her retarded daddy was trying to create a composition for the photo. I'm sure she's still plotting a revenge in her head.
Just about 100 feet of a 2,000-mile Appalachian trail. Roughly 1,000 miles stretch north from here, and a similar distance heads south. For the average thru-hiker, completing the entire journey takes about six months.<br/>After traveling the past 12+ months mostly in desert and badlands regions, one thing has become clear, while the East Coast might not offer many jaw-dropping vistas, it has something else — the luxury of lush, green landscapes for about nine months of the year. It’s a joy you often take for granted until you’ve spent time in places scorched by the sun.
I met this model during a twilight stroll at Alabama Hills, near the mighty Sierra Nevada. It was an accident, really, but the moment I laid eyes on her, I almost immediately fell in love. Some might say she’s prickly—possibly... But let’s be honest, you can afford a difficult personality when you're as beautiful as she was.<br/>We didn’t exchange many words, but she graciously agreed to pose for me. I made sure to keep my distance, respecting her space as if I were tiptoeing around a delicate masterpiece. There was an undeniable magic in the air that evening, and I’ll always remember our brief, starry romance beneath the California sky. Sadly, it lasted just 30 minutes, but those moments are etched in my memory forever.
There is something absolutely magical about this place a few miles south of Seward. After winding through the thick forest, the hiking trail descends to a big opening at the shore. A creek flows into the fjord. In September, thousands of salmon live their last hours in the shallow water, and seagulls feast on the easy prey. Despite the somewhat disturbing scenes, the whole place has an absolutely peaceful aura. Allegedly, grizzly bears love the spot for its atmosphere too. I was (un)lucky to encounter none.
If there were to be a museum of mountains, it would be here in Badlands National Park. Rolling hills of the Carpathians, sharp razors of Patagonia, and the massive Himalayas—everything is represented here. Various shapes and colors, just reduced in size a few dozen times.
While some entrepreneurs promise to send people to Mars in the near future (apparently because there is not much left to f..k up on this planet), some people just casually travel there…
Driving with one headlight broken could be dangerous. But at least it could give a nice effect if you accidentally ended up being photographed.
After feeling miserable and annoyed with all the people who were jumping into the frame, I took three long breaths... It didn't help at all and I remained same annoyed. But finally, one of the tourists ended up completing my composition in a very photogenic way.
There are moments you want to scream about to the entire world, and there are quite the opposite ones. The ones you fear to share because they would inevitably lose something after that. And you do hope nobody will ever find those places—your special places—whether they are physical locations on Earth or hidden deeply inside you.
When people see a guy with a tripod pointing his camera at something, they occasionally approach me with questions like “Is there anything particular going on here?” or “What do you see there?”. I typically come up with stupid responses sort of “Erm… I guess life is going on here” or “Um, I see the trees there”. I doubt I ever satisfy those passerby with my replies. After all, people do tend to get upset when they face something simple while expecting complicated things.
After having a pint of pilsner in a bar in Pacific City, Oregon, I set out to wander the sandy hills of Cape Kiwanda, although I could have just stayed and had another pint of pilsner. Never did I achieve anything more heroic in my life. And I'm still wondering to this day whether the consistent leaning of the trees in the photo was caused by the wind or the pilsner.
“Termination dust” seems to be exclusively Alaskan colloquial term and means the first dusting of snow in the mountains at the end of the summer season. Historically, it gave the seasonal workers an indication that snow was imminent and it was time to start preparing their camp and work for winter. For many, it in fact meant “termination” of their employment status. Despite some negative connotation of the term (some Alaskan even asked reporters and the weather people to stop using it) few things in nature can compare to the beauty of glowing aspens highlighted by white snow in the mountains.
One day I will learn to predict which part of the sky will be lit up by the sunset or sunrise in the most beautiful way. Until then, I'll just have to run up and down the hills searching for the best composition and risking breaking my legs.
I adore the feeling of absolute calmness in nature a few hours before a snowstorm reaches the area. The sounds get quieter, the light gets softer. The anxiety about getting into trouble on untreated roads gets worse.
Early fall colors in Glacier National Park.
When I was a kid, Alaska was a quintessence of something remote and wild those days. Glorified and mystified in Jack London’s novels, located far away from everything on a colorful map in my room… Very few places seemed more unreachable. It has changed. The world becomes painfully small with traveling when The Last Frontier is merely a few hours away from home. The world becomes even smaller when one of the best jazz musicians who you listened to while commuting to college back in Ukraine, now shakes your hand in a small local club and humbly thanks for coming to his concert. The world, however, immediately becomes incomprehensibly immense when you think of people you love and have no clue about where they presently are on this tiny planet.
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
Golds gallery
Golds
Rocks gallery
Rocks
Seascapes gallery
Seascapes
Skies gallery
Skies
Trees gallery
Trees
Waterfalls gallery
Waterfalls