24 Hours in San Francisco – What should you photograph?

Recently, I had to go to San Francisco for less than 24 hours.  I was flying in at 3 in the afternoon and had to catch a flight back to Seattle at 1 pm the next afternoon.  With a city as great as San Francisco and with thousands of photo opportunities, finding the right mix was not going to be easy.

Think about it.  If you had 24 hours in a city how would you prioritize what to shoot, and at what time?  Even if you come up with the perfect game plan weather, traffic, and any other myriad of unforeseen obstacles can put the brakes on everything.

So what do I recommend?  DON’T HAVE A PLAN AND BE FLEXIBLE!!!

When my plane approached San Fran, I immediately scanned the horizon to see if I had any weather to contend with.  Even if the skies were clear it did not mean that a fog bank could suddenly develop and move in.  The skies for the most part looked pretty clear.  I could see there were some low level clouds, but nothing too ominous.

I scrambled to get my rental car as I juggled tripod, laptop, and camera equipment.  My body looked like a walking, drooling, spastic cramp.  My trail of tears ended with a huge surprise.  My friends had rented me a convertible… something I would have never done, but as you will see it made for a magical trip.  I hopped into the car and was soon off to my 4:00 o’clock appointment.

An hour later I was done and free to explore… the fo… the fog… THE GREAT WALL OF FOG THAT JUST MOVED IN.  You have got to be kidding me!  Mother Nature is constantly toying with my emotions and has sent me on many a fruitless goose chases. Nothing can screw up a shot more than fog, especially San Fran Fog.  “I call this picture “Cloudy Nothing”… yeah just give me a thousand bucks and it’s yours.”.

Plan B came to mind… but that’s right I had no plan.  What the hell was I going to do?!?!

I through an internal tantrum as I tried desperately to look cool in my perv-mobile.  I decided to just drive around and see if any inspiration could penetrate my creative fog. 

I headed towards the Golden Gate Bridge.  With the top down, Sirius pumping, and the heat on full blast, I cruised through San Fran like a mid-life crisis in training.  My hair blew in the wind… causing some major afro-ization which soon morphed into a  troll-like existence as it formed and aerodynamic point.  As I glanced in the mirror I could not help think I looked like the Unabomber… great!

After a few u-turns and a couple flips of the bird I was found myself crossing the Golden Gate.    My face was wind burned and my body was now hypothermic, and worst of all, I had to pee.  Doubts about the trip and my ability to get some good shots started filling my brain. 

Then out of nowhere the sun came out!!!  Of course, this caused instant blindness, yet I became overcome with joy.  I tried to look around to see what might pique my interest but everything I looked at now had purple dots masking it.  White-knuckling the steering wheel became a side effect of trying desperately not to get killed by the California enduro-racers that raced and zig-zagged over the bridge.  It seemed inevitable that I would cause an accident or in the least the evacuation of an unsuspecting tourist’s bowels.

 As I approached the end of the bridge I was spying for a parking spot when I became horrified by what I saw, a ”Tourist Infestation”.  A photographers worst nightmare.  These blind, mindless pests are constantly bumping into equipment, running in front of shots, and generally suffer from head-in-butt syndrome. Their offspring are even worse.  They are usually screaming and have no problem with wiggling in front of what would be a masterpiece.   THE HELL WITH THAT!

My mind began to scatter as I rifled through the possibilities and trade-offs of where I should shoot.  It’s Friday afternoon and the traffic is horrible and I want to be in position for the sunset.  This whole situations has the potential to suck.  Then a moment of pure genius hit me.  I thought “where could I drive that will provide a constant stream of beautiful sites to choose from and not have to worry about traffic??? PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY BABY!!!”.

I jumped off the highway and followed the signs for Stinson Beach and Muir Woods.  I was soon at the top of a bluff overlooking the stunning coast.  My best view was towards the sun.  My eyes burned and spots once again began dancing around what was left of my vision as a I struggled to compose the shot.   I opted for black and white as all the color, much like my retinas, would be completely burned out of the picture.  The subtle shades of the cliffs and the shimmering ocean in gray scale worked out.

PCH and I are old friends and I have been to this part of her once before.  I was lucky enough to drive the majority of this coast into Oregon.  The next 1000 miles north of here are arguably the most beautiful coasts on earth.  Everyone should go once in a lifetime… or seven times should you be so lucky.  The northern part of PCH is profoundly un-Californian in its pristine nature and raw beauty.  Long gone are the traffic jams and the canterlevering of hundreds homes off of unstable mountain sides.  Don’t get me wrong, there are towns along the way that epitomize tourist traps of Cali, but nothing like crawling down PCH in Santa Monica., or worse, Long Beach.

With the top down, I snaked my way down the bluff to Stinson Beach.  The last time I was here I ate at one of the only places open.  The food was great, but the gas station situation was pathetic… well non existent.  In short, it was the beginning of a slow and sometimes redundant crawl up the highway as my car and my mental stability crumbled beneath me.  The highlights included begging for gas from the sheriffs department, a murder at Goat Head Beach (not involved), and the leaving of 7 memory cards including pictures of Yosemite National Park and Sequoia National Park on top of my car (directly responsible).

This time was completely different, my head was completely removed from my butt cheeks for one, and it was late summer.  I am glad that I came back.  The ocean air was invigorating and the views of the bird-laden marshes were beautiful.  Soon my negative associations from my previously tormented past were permanently replaced.

I was in a race to see how far I could get up PCH before the sun set.  The road twisted and turned and rose and fell as I weaved through patches of forest segmented by golden hills shining brightly in the soon-to-be-setting sun.  Surprisingly, there were park rangers with radar guns all over the road. This had no effect on me because I am stuck behind the remake of “Driving Miss Daisy”. The other problem is that there is no place to pass Speedy Gonzales due to the hundreds of curves in the road and lack of anything consiedered a straight away. Fortunately for Mr. Gonzales the fact the Sirius Satelite radio kept on cutting out proved more infuriating then his attempt at breaking the record for at the slowest speed possible with a foot placed on the gas.

I got as far as the Point Reyes turnoff when I decided to go back.  I knew I couldn’t make it to the next beach, nor the 28 mile journey to Pt. Reyes before sunset.  After all, I had plenty more shooting back in San Francisco.  I reluctantly turned around in order to insure good positioning for what could be a good sunset.  The truth is though, I would love nothing more than driving straight back to Seattle on this road… maybe next year!

On my way back a fawn jumped out in front of the car trying to show off some new dance moves.  It kicked and pranced across the road and then suddenly stopped. I slowed the car hoping to capture it in silhouette.  Right when I got the car stopped, the little deer continued his dance back up the hillside.  Oh well, this isn’t the first time an epic shot came so close to happening and then disappeared.

Instead I settled for some burned out branches on a cliff.  The cloud line was going to quickly swallow the sun.  I only had but a few minutes before the sunset potential was all but wiped out.

I was pretty hungry by now and wanted to grab some grub.  My stomach grumbled the whole way back on the roller coaster of a road called Pacific Coast Highway.  I decided to treat myself to a nice dinner in Sausalito.  This little town boasts dozens of great restaurants, charming architecture, pricey shops, and million dollar views.

It might have been the miles of ocean or the formation of what could be  “budding man-boobs” on my chest, but I decided on having fish. As I strolled aimlessly around the town a sign that said “Fresh Sand Dabs” piqued my interest.  I guess it’s San Fran’s signature fish.  It is supposedly a little flounder-looking fish with tons of bones.  As I scanned the menu I considered the bones, and then the recent oil spill here… a cargo ship scraped the side of pylon at the Golden Gate bridge dumping tens of thousands of gallons of oil.  That’s when I decided to forget about the Petroleum-encrusted Sand Dabs and decided to go with the mercury poisoning instead.  “I’ll have the Ahi Tuna!”, I exclaimed starvingly. 

 The service was quick, almost rushed.  The tuna hit my table just as the last bit of salad left my fork.  Normally I might be put off by this, but eating at that point was a necessary inconvenience.  All I really wanted to do was take some more pictures.

I was soon out the door and heading back to get the car.  To my relief nothing was stolen out of the trunk and my photographic adventure could continue.  I may have driven a quarter mile before I saw my next subject.  The city from across the water.

I set up my tripod, 70mm – 200mm, and my cable release and began experimenting with the different apertures and exposures.  After a couple horrible shots I was dialed in.  I took a few more shots and new that it was time to look for some better shots.

My buddies have always talked about the great times in Golden Gate State park.  I had driven by it a half a dozen times, but always feared the Tourist Infestations.  After wasting an hour driving past the exit, getting lost, and turning around totaling 3,600 degrees I was finally here.  I entered the long dark road back lit by the  Golden Gate bridge.  Despite it being after 9:00 there was still a good amount of lovers “enjoying the view” aka watching submarine races.  Despite the automobile-based procreation, parking was easy to find.  I pulled up to the first spot I saw and started my picture taking ritual all over again.

This place is beautiful.  The darkness of the park made the Golden Gate bridge seem as if it were on fire.  While I was up there several ships arrived providing for a hauntingly ghost like image as it passed slowly under the bridge.  Seeing how wide the bridge is made me wonder how in the hell could you actually hit a pylon.  Sure dense fog might be a good excuse, but I am pretty sure the Golden Gate bridge might be large enough to show up on radar.

I spent almost an hour and a half moving up the road.  The further up the road I traveled, the more isolated I became…  HEAVEN!  With each bend in the road came a new perspective of the Golden Gate bridge and San Francisco.  The only thing missing was a full moon or even better a meteorite streaking across the sky.

I must have stopped at seven different spots in the park before deciding that my photography marathon must end.  Reluctantly, I packed up my equipment and concluded what was a great session.  Looking back, I covered a lot considering the impossibly short amount of time.  Plus, I will use this experience to help plan for my return to San Francisco… whenever that may be.

The Trip of a Lifetime – A Dad and Son Take to the Road

I moved to Seattle not too long ago. Leaving behind half of my family, great friends, and a condo in need of a new roof in Tempe, Arizona. As luck would have it, Mother Nature decided to rehydrate much of the West this winter forcing my hand… literally to repair the roof. As much as having to shell out a few grand for a “not so fun expense” I was going to make the best of the trip down. The ride from Seattle to Phoenix is breathtaking regardless of your route and I cannot say that I did not choose to live in these two places specifically for this reason. The way I see it, driving back and forth is a photographer’s dream with countless routes and seasonal beauty.

My recently retired father called and I told him of my plans. You could hear his excitement in his voice when I described the trip. I knew he would want to go and to be honest, I would love to have him. As you grow older you cannot help but contemplate tomorrow and what it may or may not bring. My dad’s health has been challenged lately and his daily regiment of cigarettes and diet coke has yet to be endorsed by the surgeon general for its life-extending properties. He began quizzing me on exact dates of departures, arrival times to Arizona, and how long I had planned to stay. He didn’t ask to go right then, but I knew it would be coming.

A few hours later he called back and quickly muttered “So do have room for one more in the car?”. We both knew the answer. He reconfirmed the dates and off to he computer he went to look for flights. It seemed like seconds later he called back with his itinerary. He was coming out on Valentines Day!!! My girlfriend was going to LOVE that! Fortunately the damage was going to be minimal as she had to work anyway… dodged a bullet there!

My Dad arrived and we decided to take a nice “Romantic dinner cruise” on the Royal Argosy. With Seattle being one of the most gay-friendly cities in America, we had a snowballs chance in hell of convincing anyone that we were anything other than a gay couple. I envisioned trying to explain to people the guy I was with on Valentines Day on a cruise was my Dad and having the reply “Yeah Sugar Daddy!”. The funny part is when they took our picture neither of us realized the buoy said “Valentine’s Day Cruise”. We laughed so hard when we got our pictures! We ended up having a great time and the laughs we shared made it one of my best Valentine’s day.

The next day we drove around a bit and ran some last-minute errands. I knew we were in for a great trip when we caught the sunset of Mount Rainier from my porch. We snapped several dozen photos as the sky got increasingly red.

We left early the next morning and made a B-line towards Moab, Utah. I knew we would never make it, but my goal was to get as far a possible. We made it through Snolquamie Pass which had been closed several times that month due to avalanches caused by the 45 feet of natural snowfall. As we were making our way through Oregon towards Idaho, this beautiful sunset was forming. We spent 45 minutes in some of the coldest weather I had experienced in years. Arizona had completely depleted my “New Englander” status as I shivered and convulsed uncontrollably.

We got as far a Twin Falls Idaho and decided to call it a night. The next day we woke up early and drove out in a complete fog bank. It lasted until just before Salt Lake city where it ended abruptly. Our goal was to get to Arches National Park for sunset. There we would begin our three-day exploration of Moab, Utah. The other great part was that we would have a full moon. Below is a picture of Courthouse Rock in Arches National Park.

We made it Arches in time for the sunset and stopped to take these pictures. The moon had already risen, so we just made the best of it. Below is a picture of petrified sand dunes found in Arches National Park with the La Sal Mountains in the back ground.

I had never been to Moab, with this much snow so it was a welcomed surprise. The moon was fairly high in the sky but I still wanted to capture it in the pictures.

As we made our way to Window Arches we stopped and snapped some pictures in “The Garden of Eden”. Arches National Park is not overly large, but it could take you a week to see everything. Even then, you could easily miss some arches.

Parking is sometimes tough at in the park so keep an eye out for little areas to pull of. Be sure not to drive aimlessly on undisturbed areas.

Window Arche is one of my favorite places to shoot. Unfortunately, it is everyone else’s too. The great part about going to Moab in the winter is that you pretty much have the place to yourself.

The sunset at Arches did not amount to much. We left and got some much needed dinner. We still had a bit of driving to do as we needed to make our way to my favorite place to stay when going to Moab. There are a couple of cabins you can rent that are half-way up the La Sal loop road. The elevation up there is close to 7500 ft. and it gives you breath taking views of the peaks of the La Sal mountains as well a view of Canyonlands National Park. I shot the above picture at night and you can see the stars glistening in the background.

The next morning looked very promising. We had blue skies painted with some high clouds. I decided to take my dad to a place that I always have loved, despite the awful name, Negro Bill Canyon. Named after a famous resident of the canyon, the true name N***** Bill Canyon is equally appalling. Some locals try to justify the name by professing that Bill actually preferred it. As mind-blowing as it is in this day and age, if you were to ask a local how to get here they refer to this part of Canyonlands National Park with the above stated racial insult.

Despite the name it is a wonderfully beautiful place and I highly recommend that you go here. Especially if you want to feel small. The 1000-foot Navajo sandstone walls will dwarf the biggest of egos. The most amazing part is the deafening silence. Your new found solitude will make you appreciate the fact that the developers have not ruined the pristine beauty.

The weather began to change and the light at high noon was not going to do any justice for beauty of this area. My father and I went back as far a my Rav4 would take me. This area is extremely rugged and you should take every precaution before venturing out here. This includes several gallons of water, food, sleeping bags, and any other survival gear needed to prepare for the worst of the elements. This the same area in which Aaron Ralston had to cut off his arm after being trapped for five days in Blue John Canyon.

The above picture was take at Dead Horse Point. This Utah state park is a must see. Make sure you have warm clothes because this wide open area will wind-blast you.

My dad, with cigarette in hand points to a salt mine located in the bottom of the canyon. It is difficult to decide which way to shoot. Every angle is completely beautiful.

At Dead Horse Point you can walk to the edge and look straight down the 1000-foot cliff. This area is not meant for those of you whom have a fear of heights. There are small walls separating the walk way from the edge, but you can easily hop over the side. Take precaution and do not think that you will never fall. I have personally witnessed a person fall off the edge of the Grand Canyon and I can say with certainty if you fall off the edge here, you are not going to live.

The high clouds continued into the night and I was able to capture this shot of the full moon over the La Sal mountains. I love shooting during the full moon. The moon creates a completely different environment and provides a unique perspective.

The next morning my father woke me up to tell me about the “Vultures” walking around the cabins. These four scavengers were actually pretty good looking Turkeys. They obviously ate pretty well and I suspect that they have been fed by previous visitors. Every time I have gone turkey hunting, I generally only see their back sides. These four turkeys were certainly not afraid of me and seemed almost put off that I did not offer some food.

Most of the morning was cloudy and drab. We took the La Sal Loop road from our cabin North towards Castle Valley. The road is full of steep switch backs that are often iced over. The north side of the mountain gets little direct sun so it is not uncommon for the road to remain frozen all winter long. We slid our way down to the bottom while taking every opportunity to see the landscape before us as we made our decent. Eventually we made it to Castle Valley.

You will eventually run into the Colorado River. The ride along the river is a must see and take your time to see the mighty Colorado.

As a storm approached our picture taking opportunities soon became limited. We went back into Moab for dinner and decided that it was best to get back to the cabin before the snow prevented us from making it up the hill.

We awoke the next morning to deep snow. We had to dig the ca out before packing it up. The ride down the hill was treacherous to say the least. On our way to the Needles district of Canyonland we encountered several severe accidents being cleaned up. One rollover in particular looked especially deadly. After several delays we finally made it to the entrance of the park. The mountains were misty and hid the true majesty of the canyon walls that surrounded us.

We came upon Newspaper Rock, an ancient petroglyph covered wall containing a wide variety of figures and symbols from inhabitants of long ago. Unfortunately it also contains some etchings from the morons that plague us today. Drawing peace symbols and initials of people compelled to inscribe their love, you can only hope that these individuals did not procreate damning our world with another generation of half-brained offspring.

The frozen landscape is in complete contrast to what you would normally see in this high desert environment. I have been to this area many times before, yet today it seems if this is a whole new world. I guess that is what is so great about this area. You can never accurately remember the majesty of Canyonlands and with each season comes new and completely different appearance.

As we made our way towards the visitors center the sun began to burn through the clouds and highlighting the gorgeous red cliffs.

As the snow began to melt puddles formed throughout the park. I took the opportunity to capture another form of my favorite photography, shooting reflections off of puddles. There are some major trade-offs with shooting these photographs. First of all, you need to lie on your stomach to get low enough, which can be very wet and muddy. The second problem with this is you often carry the mud right into your car, which can make picking up dates in your car somewhat embarrassing. Fortunately, my girlfriend sees past my Pig-Pen like existence. Even better, she owns an Audi!!!

The Needles district was pretty much a mud bog so we decided to head out a little early and try to catch the sunset at Monument Valley. The snow had melted and there was pretty much open road from Canyonlands to Monument Valley. There wasn’t much that could stop us now… WRONG!

I started thinking to myself, “This is Bull S***”. What you do not see is that we had already passed through a gauntlet of these moronic animals and their steaming landmines. Personally, I have almost been killed at least a half a dozen times by these drooling idiots. I get angry when I hear how the ranchers in Idaho and Wyoming want to kill 300 of the 1200 grey wolves in order to protect their cattle. How about you start breeding smarter cows?!?! Let’s face it, these fart machines contribute more green house gasses to our atmosphere per year than automobiles and the idea of me being killed by these 1 ton imbeciles is slightly frustrating.

Near Mexican Hat, the desert stats taking on strange geographic patterns and shapes. Orange zig zags sandwiched between the the layers of sediments will make your nose bleed as you try desperately to ponder how in the world that happened. I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation, but since I did not take an “earthen zigzag” course in high school, I cannot explain it. My father can, but like much of his “Cliff Claven-like knowledge”, he pulled it straight from his butt cheeks.

We arrived at Monument Valley and raced up the road to get into position for what should be a great sunset. As we approached the entrance we were waved down by a Native American guide. He explained that the park was closed, but if we wanted to ride with him we could pay $50 for a tour. I was a little hesitant due to the shake down tactics he was using, but my dad had never been to Monument Valley. We ultimately decided to pay.

I was happy that we decided to go and was able to capture some shots that we never got before. This reflection off of the puddle was one of them. Like many places, you need to go there several times in order to increase your odds of getting some great shots. I have been to petty much all the places we have covered in this blog atleast once and some I have visited five times. You are always dealt a different hand, you just need to play it to the best of your ability.