This photo was taken on a road trip –  we were returning home from Montana and had just reached the Bighorn Mountain Range right outside of Sheridan Wyoming. The sun had set behind a peak and cast a giant shadow across the sky.

The clock was ticking by way too slowly for such a perfect spring Friday afternoon. I got a Facebook message from a dear  friend informing me that he and his family were in town for the weekend and wanted to get together. I told him that I had made plans to join some friends who were planning to camp at Center Lake in Custer State Park. They were eager to join the party and even offered to swoop me and Anna up and give us a ride. It was wonderful to see them again and catch up. Since our last encounter they had welcomed their son (2 and a half) into their lives. He was pure delight and I was so pleased to get to spend the time with them. We all enjoyed a walk on the tiny beach, the kids played in the sand and Anna even decided she was brave enough to go for a little swim, a decision she regretted later when she realized she had to hang out in the rapidly chilling air with wet clothes.

The light faded quickly and I decided to try out some long exposure shots around the campsite. We grilled up some tasty camp food,wished the campers a dry evening and then headed back to town. We followed an impressive thunderstorm into town but never found ourselves in its path.

The next morning, my buddy Nick picked me up, we tossed our kayaks on top of his jeep and hit the road. We drove south to Angostura, not my favorite lake but I’ve had my eye on a paddling spot there for a few years and was anxious for the chance to finally explore it.  The area is a shallow marshy area near Shep’s Canyon on the west side of the lake. As we unloaded our boats I was quick to notice some large big white birds catching some sun on a sandbar to the left. I thought instantly that they might be pelicans and couldn’t wait for Nick to get his gear all packed to verify my hunch… I set out and was delighted to be proven correct.

The American White Pelican to be exact. I believe they were migrating through on their way to breed to the east.

Cornell Lab of Ornithology says:
American White Pelican breeds mainly on isolated islands in freshwater lakes, forages on inland marshes, lakes, or rivers, favoring shallows. Islands used for breeding are often 30 or more miles from foraging areas. During the non-breeding season, American White Pelicans favor shallow coastal bays, inlets, and estuaries. [source]

The big, goofy, awkward birds hung out long enough for me to shoot some nice photos before they eventually determined that I was close enough and floated away. However, I was able to follow and observe them for about a mile or so from a distance. I enjoyed the shallow, marshy, swampy area I had wanted to explore for so long.  It had a creepiness that was kind of fun, lots of old dead fallen dead trees to navigate around that the turtles seemed to find quite conducive to sunbathing. Angostura is a large lake, full of fast boats and murky water, but it was nice to find a quiet place out of reach of the speed boats. There was a ton of wild life that agreed and had decided to call that area home.

After a couple hours of watching and paddling, we decided to pack up the boats, grab a sandwich and head into Custer State Park to Bismark Lake. While we drove north through Wind Cave National Park I jokingly said to Nick, “I would like to see some Elk. Can you make that happen?” Always eager to please, Nick drove us around a corner and I exclaimed “ELK!”. We didn’t have much time and the light wasn’t great so I wasn’t able to get a good photo but I gave it a try and I was grateful for the opportunity to see the majestic animals before continuing onward to our next destination. Surprisingly, I had never been there before and, I have to say, I am amazed it has taken me this long to discover this magnificent place.

As we unpacked our boats I noticed the faint rumbles of thunder from far in the distance and decided it was far enough away to proceed with our plans to paddle. I decided to leave my camera in the car, though, because my battery was about to die and should it happen to rain, I didn’t want to be stuck on the lake with the camera. Want to guess how long it took me to regret that decision?

I rounded a corner and instantly spotted a large nest on the other side of the lake. It was only moments later I was able to identify its inhabitants… Osprey. I continued to paddle around the lake, the whole time having a dialog with myself about why my decision to leave the camera in the car was the right one and how I could always come back for a better shot of the birds… bla bla bla. The whole time my previous osprey fail was ringing clearly through my head.  Then I watched one of the osprey defend the nest from a hovering turkey vulture and I decided I simply couldn’t take it anymore, I turned my boat around and paddled full speed back to the car. I quickly paddled past Nick to fetch his keys. We had a brief conversation and decided there was zero chance of rain. That was enough to convince me that I had made the right choice. I packed the camera in my water proof compartment and set back out across the lake.

I reached the other side and climbed up onto a very excellently placed granite rock and had JUST set up my camera when I noticed that the thunder was rolling at a much more consistent tempo… and then I noticed a drop or two of rain… and then I heard the sound of lots of drops of rain… at that point, I knew it was time to pack up and get to shelter. There was an entire lake between me and the vehicle, and while I may not be smart enough not to get caught out in a rain storm, I am smart enough to know that the last place you want to be in an electrical storm is in a boat on a lake. I looked around quickly, spied a nice rock overhang and hunkered down. I sheltered my camera with my body and tucked my shoes and over-shirt in as far behind me as I could.

I waited out the storm and Facebooked a little, called Nick to let him know I was alright (he had made it safely back to his car). I texted my mom, and laughed at myself a little. The rain and thunder were soon joined by some pea sized hail. Eventually the downpour slowed to a drizzle and I was able to crawl out from my hole and back onto my osprey-watching perch. I sent Nick a text and  said “I’m going to sit up here and photograph these ospreys until my battery dies!”  He replied “I want to catch some fish! I’ll meet you on the lake.”  I was able to get some really nice shots of the raptors coming and going from the nest and even a little video of the male calling to the female after she flew off to dry her wings. The sun began to peek out and warm the rocks and a perfect mist began to rise off the granite and the lake as if it were eager to become clouds again.  I headed back down to my boat, which I had stupidly left open side up. That didn’t stop me from enjoying my float (all be it a bit soggy) back around the lake.

I met up with Nick mid-lake and he was bound and determined to catch a fish so we paddled around the lake for another half an hour or so while he attempted to snag one. He never did hook one though but I did witness one more oddity. I had noticed patches of disturbed water on the perfectly still lake. It seemed like there was something just below the surface that was churning up bubbles. At first, I thought it might be beavers. I had seen several tell-tale signs of their inhabitants around the lake and wanted, so desperately to see one. It seemed every time my back was turned you could hear a loud splash, but each time I turned to catch a glimpse of what the noise maker was it was too late. I pointed out the churning pockets of water to Nick and he slowly floated toward one. We both watched in amazement as dozens of tiny fish jumped from within the disturbance at the same time and splashed back into the water. I wasn’t able to get a good look to identify what kind of  fish they were; there was a good handful of them per school and they were able to disperse pretty quickly and almost disappear when you approached them.

The temperature was dropping quickly and my tollerance of soggy shorts was growing thin. Signs of the next storm started to rumble from the same direction and we decided it was time to head home before it got too late.

We threaded the needle between two dark and ominous storms on the way home.  I was shocked when I looked at my clock and it said it was 7:59. The time had flown but only because it was all so fun. I big thanks to Nick for spending the day with me! It was truly awesome!

I’ve been in the herd of buffalo at the Wild Idea Buffalo Ranch countless times before and it is never anything less than a mind blowing experience. But this weekend I got to experience the herd one on one – just me and them (and a 4 wheeler).

I quickly jotted down notes as Jill told me, over the phone, which gates to go through and what direction to go to get to the buffalo. I didn’t really need to, I was so hungry for the experience, it seemed that her words just seared themselves in my brain.

I took the long way to the ranch from HWY 79 onto the Lower Spring Creek Road. I stopped to snap a shot or two along the way, but mostly I was just enjoying my freedom from the constrictions of time and obligation. I knew all I had to do was get to the ranch by sunset.

I had planned to spend the night there on Friday night and then most of my day on Saturday. I considered my options and figured my time would be best spent with the herd on Friday night as the sun went down. Then, on Saturday I would do my best to get up with the sun and explore along the Cheyenne River.  The first part worked out perfectly, I was able to get to the ranch with plenty of time to hop on the 4-wheeler and head into the prairie in search of the buffalo.

I had to wrangle two gates to get to the herd. When I first pulled up I noticed that they were sort of split into two chunks. The smaller of the two was just in front of me. The slowly sinking, low hanging sun was just touching the tops of the prairie grass in a way that was irresistible to a photographer, so I decided I needed to head out into the larger group first. I found a big ol’ bull standing in front of the rest of the buffalo and decided he was the first to receive my attention. After a little time spent enjoying the light and the beasts, I decided that the smaller herd had much higher photographic potential because they had chosen to position themselves in front of much more attractive scenery. So I cruised over to check them out and noticed that each of the large animals were accompanied by a baby. I learned later that when the mommas give birth, they create these smaller side herds to collectively raise and protect the calves. The momma’s didn’t seem overly excited about me wanting to join them for the sunset show, but they also seemed to put up with me as much as their instincts would allow. I had the most incredible time watching the babies hop about and scamper childishly around, but never far from their mothers. I shot until there was no longer any light to do so. With a very full soul I packed up my gear and headed back to the ranch house.

Now… I had every intention of getting up with the sun and witnessing a Cheyenne River sunrise, but when the time came, my alarm went off and I was simply too comfortable to be bothered. I decided that that was an adventure for another time, rolled over and enjoyed my freedom to do so. I woke up at about 8:30, had a quick breakfast, headed back out to my old friend, the 4-wheeler and headed down to the river. I spent several hours crawling at a snail’s pace along the shore of the great river. I found myself inside a massive grove of old mangled cotton woods that had yet to dress themselves in their summer leaves. I sat quietly for a long time and watched the various birds call and chase  and dance for each other before heading back out and taking another final, long moment river side. I laid out my jacket and did my best to submerse myself in the moment, letting the rest of it all go. I let the sun lay heavy on me and warm my skin, but I was also very aware that as heavy as the sun felt, the lightest breeze was able to blow it off of me like feathers. I thought about how that place out there, on that river, being cared for by those people is a special place. All of the elements involved make it so. The thought constantly ran through my mind of what it would be like to spend all of my time out there like my friends do. How they must know so much more about everything I was seeing for the first time.

I determined, after my rest on the side of the river, that it was time to leave the ranch. I had no more turned off the gravel driveway and back onto Lower Spring Creek Road that I noticed something unusual in a tree. I took out my camera, and as I often do when trying to identify something, I used it like binoculars to simply reveal a closer look at something far away. I was excited and astonished to discover the thing I was looking at was a porcupine. The tree was growing very close to the side of another driveway and I decided the precarious creature was worth the trespass and I drove down to get a better shot. While I was setting up, a woman pulled down the drive after me and stopped. I smiled and walked up to her window and pointed out that I was only there taking pictures of the poky creature. She exclaimed “Oh, I saw that bastard wandering around my stock dam the other day and I tried to shoot him but he got away!” I instantly felt very bad for the little guy. I felt like I had blown his cover and still fear that my discovery may have led to the end of his life. When I left him he was still with us and I choose to believe he was able to scamper down and wonder on before the lady was able to return with her gun. Sadly, we have to accept that some things are beyond our control and, as I stated before, I am not a rancher, I’m certain that if the lady felt my tree friend was a nuisance, she had good reason.

I had several hours left in my day though and didn’t want to head back to “real life” just yet. So, when I reached highway 44, instead of turning left to head back to town I took a right which I knew was going to take me straight to the Badlands. I was excited even though it was a road I have traveled many times before, I was just anxious to see what it was going to serve up today. My decision to turn right was rewarded almost instantly when a coyote ran across the road and stopped on a ridge before bounding off just before I was able to get a good shot. Moments later, a large hawk flew up in front of me dangling a snake from its fiercely gripped talons.  I wasn’t able to get a good shot of either of them but took it as a clear sign that I had made the right choice and that my journey would continue to be rewarding.

The highlight of my side adventure was meeting a lovely couple at the Sage Creek Campground named Randy and Sheri. I was instantly struck by their curious travel rig – they were inhabiting a strange looking ‘camper’ pulled by a Subaru, both covered from top to bottom in vinyl wrapped endorsements and logos. The most prominent of which being Eddie Bauer and Back Packer magazine. I conjured up the courage to ask about their get-up and they were happy to educate me. They said:

“We are on a mobile tour called “Get Out More” sponsored by Backpacker Magazine and several other outfitters advertised on the vehicles.  We specialize in outdoor education about practical skills, techniques used to enjoy outdoor life.”
(learn more about them at www.getoutmoretour.com)

“the money shot”

I couldn’t help but inquire about ways to submit photography to the magazine on a freelance basis and the Randy was happily invited me to email him and he would send me all the information I needed to know about that topic.

We said our farewells only to have one more encounter down the road as I was precariously perched on the side of a drainage ditch attempting to capture a photograph of another great buffalo doing his best “Iconic Buffalo-Perched-on-a-Hill” impression (he was doing a fine job, by the way). My friends in the Subaru stopped and shouted from the road “That’s the money shot right there!” I waved and smiled and said “It’s certainly not a bad one at all” and they drove off. The encounter delighted me on several levels. If there’s some sort of future developments there for me, and Backpacker Magazine feels my photos are worthy of printing, that would be great. But there was a second level of appreciation I had meeting two people living their dreams.

My excursion lead me across the western rim of the badlands that cuts just above the Sage Creek Basin, and back to Wall with a few more buffalo encounters and some fun time with the prairie dogs. The return home on I-90 was fairly uneventful but that’s completely ok. It gave me the chance to reflect on my experience on the plains and about how lucky I am. They weren’t lying when they said it’s all who you know. To my friends at Wild Idea, thank you again soooooooo much and a hundred times more. The gift you gave me this weekend is un-repayable. I am just simply grateful.

I really didn’t wake up this morning thinking I would be out taking pictures of bluebirds… but to be honest, even if wasn’t a snow day, I would have likely found a way to wriggle out of work and go shooting. It was simply breath taking outside.

They called a winter weather warning last night, which I instantly shrugged off. I was certain that because I was so sick of snow, it was just going to… not snow. But apparently my desire for the contrary wasn’t enough and the snow gods decided to give us one more dose of the white stuff. It dumped nearly 9 inches while we slept and when we woke up we were gifted yet another snow day. Now, could we have gotten to work, yes, but you see, today was also my moms birthday and I believe she had a secret desire to spend the day at home too.

I did have to run to work for a bit to take care of some client needs and took that opportunity to grab my camera – I was delighted to pull up to the office to see the squirrel who must have taken the wrong turn at Albuquerque. Instead of heading back up to the house, I took a quick lap down Skyline Drive and found a very photogenic blue bird who was kind enough to make sure I got a shot of every side of him, even his good side.

On the way back down the hill I saw the robins again… I mean, how can you NOT see the robins. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! I spent a little time with them again and am still baffled by their numbers. I’m hoping to get an understanding of their numbers soon, but for now I’ll just take delight in the anomaly. I did read last night though, that the high niumbers of robins may correspond directly to a low number of ceder wax wings – which would be a very sad reality if it is indeed true. I assume we will know soon enough.

For now, I’m back up at moms, I cant really think of a better way to spend earth day than celebrate the birth of one of the best, most amazing people on the planet; my mom with my brother, my daughter, the pups and seinor snowman.

Its snowing again… Its April 21st… I’m over it.

Yesterday though, was a gift. It was supposed to rain but it held off long enough for the sun to come out and melt off a majority of what we were given earlier in the week. Signs of spring are everywhere, but no where more than with in the mysterious dances of our feathered friends. I took a drive with my mom through the back roads to the north east of us and then a second trip into the woods with my cousin to find the blue birds.

I’m not sure why its all about birds right now, but it seems to be regardless of intent. I’m enjoying my time with them though. They are truly magnificent creatures. I’m patiently waiting and passing the time until the hills ready themselves for exploration. For now though, I’m just glad these guys are willing to wait around for me to find them.

Once again, the question arose; “Do I want to go hills or plains?” this time though, the sky made the decision for me. Usually when I’m facing this decision I am trying to figure out which way to head out of town, but yesterday I was trying to decide which way to drive home from Spearfish. I looked towards the Black Hills and they were covered with grey flat clouds, to the east the sky was broken, brightly contrasted between the deep thick dark blue storm clouds and the bright white where the sun was trying to break through. You could just tell that was where the cool stuff was.

I used the GPS on my phone to suggest a few routes home and decided to take Look Out Mountain Road out of Spearfish and then tried to stay on dirt roads and to the east of I-90 while still heading south. The roads were muddy, the wind was blowing and it was really really cold but that didn’t seem to keep the critters away.

I was delighted the first time Bear Butte showed itself. I love Bear Butte – It’s like a beacon, like Harney Peak, I know I’m not lost as long as I know where they are. Once I had the Bear in my sights I didn’t need the phone to find my way anymore – I just drove towards the mountain.

During the week, we had a rather substantial snow storm (see my earlier post about snowboarding down M Hill) and it was really windy out there. Occasionally the sound of my tires on the gravel would stir up the birds who were combing the recently revealed earth next to the road. Inevitably, I would disturb what they were doing and they would try to fly away but were always caught in the wind and thrown back with great force. I saw several different kind of birds who were treated the same way by the wind. Mostly meadowlarks and robins, but I did get to spend a little time with a beautiful American kestrel. I also found a frantic field mouse, some brand new cows and had a hilarious encounter with a prairie chicken on a fence.

I found myself on a great road.  I believe it was called Big Horn Road, I remember because it made me smile because of my recent quest to find and photograph animals by that very name. I decided the best way to document my location was to take out my iPhone and turn on the My-Fitness app. It cracked me up; the lady kept coming on every 3 miles or so to tell me how far I had traveled. She would say things like “time elapsed, 24 minutes. Miles gone: 9. Average speed: 4.7 miles per hour” (I’m too lazy to actually do the math, but what I really remember is that she told me it had taken me about 58 minutes to go 14 miles – it made me smile)

I spent a total of about 4 hours out there crawling along the back roads and I had called it a day several of times. I even had a failed attempt to head home when I tried to take the Alkali Creek cut off from Bear Butte to I-90 but I was forced to turn around when I reached a closed gate. A famous spring flurry had clouded the air but in the distance you could see Bear Butte glowing as the sun hit it behind the freak storm. I raced back to try to capture it but by the time I had reached a point where the whole mountain was visible, the storm had passed and everything was clear again. I turned left onto a road to turn back  but decided to see where it went instead.

It was on this road that I found the prairie chicken. It was so awkwardly perched up there that I wasn’t sure what it was at first. I thought it might have been a piece of plastic stuck to the barbed wire, it wasn’t until I got closer I realized it was a bird. But I still couldn’t tell what kind, I even thought it might be a duck for a second. Like I said before, the wind was really howling and was doing its best to get that goofy bird off that fence but it was downright determined to stay there. So much so that my pulling up, parking, backing up and pulling up closer to get a better shot didn’t disturb it. It just sat there and held on as tightly as it could with its over-sized feet.  Eventually it popped off the line and into the grass where it did what they do best and blended in among the brush until it disappeared completely. Just then my phone alerted me that I had a text message. It was from my mom. “Are you home yet?” it said. I responded with “no”.  She replied back “why not?” I smiled, turned the car on and drove home.

My adventure didn’t end when I got back to town. The sky called me up to Skyline Drive but this time it was passing in front of the sun casting great shafts of light all over the earth below. I raced up the winding road and was stopped by a magnificent crow who was checking out the view from the top of a dead twisted tree. I was so taken that I stopped in the middle of the road and grabbed my camera. I blocked traffic as long as I could before I headed onto the look out. It was a sight to behold but less impressive on camera than I had hoped. On my way back, I said to myself “If that crow is still there, I’ll take a few more pictures.” Not only was he still up there but he had called up a couple friends. I finished out my day with that crew and as I pulled into my driveway I realized; The journey decides when it’s over and if you keep your eyes peeled it will continue to be rewarding several times after you thought you were already done.

There is something interesting unfolding in my city right now.

Rapid City, South Dakota is a funny place, it isn’t quite big and it isn’t quite small. Within that conundrum we find ourselves with problems that no one has ever really dealt with before. Our current turmoil seems to be bubbling over a (not so) secret gem located in the heart of our downtown: Art Alley.

Back in 2003(ish) a group of people decided to combat a vandalism problem in an alley through encouragement. This story was recently told by Dennis Halterman at an Art Ally Guild meeting: (forgive me Dennis, I am paraphrasing because I didn’t take very good notes)

“There has always been vandalism back there. I was talking to a gentleman the other day who was telling me he was spraying anti-Vietnam stuff on the walls in that exact alley back in the 70’s. It [vandalism… art… expression] has always been there and it had just gotten painted over with grey paint every time it showed up.  We marveled at the irony of considering grey squares to be more appealing to look at than the “graffiti”. We also chuckled about how Andy Warhol would have loved such a thing. One day in the spring of 2003, back in the alley, two tombstones appeared rather than paint them over with ugly grey squares of paint, a group of us who lived and worked back there decided to add to them and paint more. We wanted shift what was a (all be it a poorly executed) statement into something that was now, simply, “better”. “

Dennis credits this as one of the first actions that started what is now Art Alley.

That loosely gathered team began to paint more stuff in the ally and slowly the efforts gained momentum and the alley has evolved into something truly remarkable. I will quote Dennis again and say “I’ve seen it look better and I’ve seen it look worse”.  In the beginning, there was a very rag-tag management system. A crew of dedicated caretakers would spend warm summer days with a paint brush and white latex paint and they would brush out the inappropriate or the unappealing. Once a year in March they would go back there and “wash out” whole walls and clean it out to create fresh new space for new art. But some of those folks have moved on or grown tired and the unstructured maintenance has slowed dramatically. The painting hasn’t however and without that magic eraser there to blot out the unpleasant, the unpleasant has become more visible and the visibility has gotten noticed.

There are lots of people who are frustrated with what the alley has become. There are complaints that it’s not “art” anymore, that the only thing painted on the walls now is vandalism and tagging. This isn’t true however, there are some of the best pieces I have ever seen down there on the walls right now. There are complaints from the business owners that their property is being destroyed and their historical buildings and rooftops are being damaged. There are complaints from citizens who are greeted not only by bright colors in the alley but by drunken people and filth. There are complaints from artists that their hard work gets covered by someone else’s scribbles faster than the paint can dry. All of these complaints are valid but the solution is simple. If people can just behave like decent human beings back there, then all of these problems go away. Now, is that practical, no – but the challenge becomes: how do you spread the message that Art Alley is a place for good behavior, a place to be treasured and a place where people want to come to be inspired?

It’s not enough to say “Art Alley is cool”, but it is also not that hard to respect something. I myself am planning to take some ownership of the alley as I will encourage the rest of my community to do. The interesting thing about placing value on something is that you have to, then, care for it. You can’t just say “this thing, this thing right here, is worth something to me.“ and then cast it aside. If it’s a trinket or a trophy, you put it in a case; if it is a nice car you get it tuned up. I’m not going to say you have to go down there and paint, or that we need a 24-7 watch team to protect it from vandals, but I think things that are treated with respect tend to get respected and things that are neglected tend to fall and decay. There is an excellent discussion going on right now and an exciting experiment in collaborative open source creativity is being conducted right here in this funny town in South Dakota. If you are so inclined, I strongly encourage you to join the conversation.

I rode my bike through the alley last night after attending a meeting about how to handle this goliath of an intangible thing and one thing I noticed was that there were about 5 groups of the usual “lookers” going through it and not one of them was complaining about anything – to the contrary, they were marveling, oohing and aaahing. They weren’t looking at the “crime” or the “vandalism” or the “politics” they just saw the alley, they saw the colors and they saw the art … and in that, to me, there’s hope.

For roughly 10 years now, a relatively small amount of space has given so much to so many. For the artists, it is a place to not only express themselves, but to develop skill and practice and become whatever it is we are all striving to be. It is a place where the lost have been able to find their light, change their lives and in turn touch the lives of others. [If you don’t know about the Lakota Voice Project, I strongly encourage you to do some reading up on what those guys are doing. It’s a truly remarkable story as well as an incredibly enlightening example of how we as people can handle the responsibility of being there for each other. ]

Art Alley is so much more than paint on walls, it’s not just a place for the lost to get found or the young to grow; it is a place to find things you didn’t know you were looking for. Art Alley is a place where impossible things happen, a place of vulnerable beauty, organic creation and endless potential.

… And how can you not love something like that?

_______________________________________________________

The slidesow at the top of this page is a collection of some of the many photographs I have taken over the years. Its been a fun journey to go back and look at what has caught my eye.