Shutter Time :: Craig Wolfrom's Photo Blog

Kayaking the Upper East Fork of the Owyhee River

Mon, 28 Apr 2025 22:33:15 GMT

Low Water Doesn't Mean Low Fun

A week from our launch date the weather forecast was optimal. Though our group size had dwindled down, nearly in half, the six remaining adventurers were excited to be in the canyon lands under blue skies with 70 degree temps. But, like the dropping number of boaters, the forecasted temps began to plummet right up to the point that I began to wonder if we shouldn't pull the plug on the trip; below freezing nights, snow, rain, more snow, wind-all of which sounded more like ingredients for a spring ski tour-not a spring kayak trip.

As I turned my truck's ignition off at the put in, a snow squall was approaching with 10-20 mph winds. I alternated between packing my AIRE inflatable kayak and starting my truck to warm my hands by the heater vents. The time came for us to shove off and though there were some reservations, we figured suffering through some cold days and nights would put hair on our chests and make for a good type 2 fun kind of adventure. So, we launched into the meandering willowy waters of the upper East Fork of the Owyhee river.

A volcanic rim acts as a portal into the canyons of the East Fork; the flat land of the Duck Valley disappears instantly being replaced by swift water, boulder gardens, and vertical walls. Due to the cold temps prior to our launch, the river's spring runoff had abated to a mere 650 cfs. Our original plan involved 3 rafts, a few IKs, and two hardshell kayaks. Now, we were a group of four IKs and two hardshell kayaks. The sun stayed away for most of the day. Even though I was in a dry suit, I shivered constantly. I had dressed with the moto I use for ski touring, "start cold and warm up with the exercise."

We bumped our way down the rapids with one serious mishap-a hardshell kayaker following an IK too close got pinned sideways between two rocks. What could have been a very bad situation worked itself out and no one was hurt. Rafts would have never made it down the initial stretch of whitewater at these flows; had we taken even small rafts, we would have been struggling to pull them over the exposed rocks and would have likely punctured tubes.

Thankfully, the sun came out and though I continued to shiver, the radiant energy and gorgeous light lifted my spirits. Once in camp, I set up my tent and crawled into my sleeping bag to get my core warm. We enjoyed dinner and a few laughs and hit the hay early thanks to the freezing temps returning once again.

My 50 year old "tiny tanks" (bladder) get me up at least once a night. As I went to do my business, it was cold but the stars were out and the scene was beautiful. When I woke again early in the morning I was puzzled by the strange noise that sounded like something scratching or sliding down my tent. I opened the fly to find a few inches of snow had fallen! It had been a brief storm as the sun was lighting up the distant canyon wall with golden light. Though cold, the day held promise for warmer, better, weather.

Each day we needed to cover 15 miles. We had accomplished this goal on our first day and were seated very close Garat Gorge, home to some of the best whitewater on the upper East Fork! Within a mile or two the canyon walls closed in on us and large boulders, at first glace, appeared to block any downstream movement. With a little scouting and slow approaches, we found lines through most of the rapids in the gorge with only one portage at Raft Slide rapid. Garat was amazing with big slides, serpentine runs, all set within a narrow canyon with both walls extending vertically from the waters edge.

Day three started with a "BANG!" While dragging a highly inflated IK to the water's edge, the exterior shell tore 5' in length. I was down river getting set for the wide landscape shot and missed the action, but, now our group was down one boat. Luckily, we were able to use the "patient" as a tow vehicle for the remainder of the trip. This day was scenic with only minor whitewater before pulling in to the confluence of Deep Creek for camp.

Our second to last day involved some fun boulder gardens with rocks that we easily cruised around, but wondered what they'd be like at the 5000 to 9000 cfs level which some folks have run this section of river. We approached Owyhee falls with concern and trepidation but portaged it without any issue. The canyons on day four were some of the most beautiful I've paddled through and was thankful to have had the low water to peacefully float through them without stress or concern. This day was long thanks to the portage and we were all eager to set up camp. A few in our group tried to pull over early, but, we pushed on until we found a nice beach and took an evening hike up to the canyon rim.

Day five started with heavy hearts-we didn't want the adventure to end. From frigid days and a snowy night, to sun filled radiant fun and a popped boat, we'd be enjoying the Idaho canyon and wished we could have continued on down river. Finally, Crutcher's Crossing arrived, we pulled over, broke down our gear and waited for the amazing 4x4 rigs of Barker's River Shuttles to pick us up and take us back.

2023 Annular Solar Eclipse

Mon, 16 Oct 2023 00:45:21 GMT

Ruby Mountains, Nevada

A solar eclipse is a celestial event that should not be missed--especially if you live near enough to witness an annular or total eclipse of the sun. Back in 2017, my son and I backpacked with some friends into the mountains just north of our Idaho home to witness the total solar eclipse. It was one of the most amazing events of my life in that the event felt so primordial--I imagined early human civilizations witnessing such an event and being mystified beyond belief. The way the temperatures dropped and dropped as the eclipse progressed was one of the most unexpected phenomenon.

So, when my son informed me that this year an annular solar eclipse was to pass over northern Nevada, just five hours from home, we made a plan to witness the spectacle. My love of planning adventures using CalTopo and Google Earth helped find a location in the Ruby Mountains where a granitic batholith protruded from the ground in spectacular fashion. We drove down only to find that at least 100 other people had also found the same spot!

As the eclipse began, a bank of clouds moved between our vantage point and the view above. At first, I was nervous it would completely obscure the event, however, the drama that they added to the scene made for a more memorable time. I had rented Sony's 200-600mm zoom lens from Lens Rentals and was impressed by the quality of images and magnification it allowed for shooting the eclipse.

Here are some images from the weekend.

Olympic National Park :: Backpacking Outdoor Education

Tue, 10 Oct 2023 14:35:01 GMT

Some classrooms don't have walls....

For decades , The Community School in Ketchum, Idaho, has included an outdoor education program into its curriculum. Starting in elementary grades, students begin learning how to travel through the landscape and as they progress through the years, they are challenged with longer adventures that test their knowledge and acquired skills until they are able to plan and accomplish multiple day trips.

One such learning experience which has been in the school's curriculum is their famed, "Coast Trip." Each year in October, the 10th grade class hikes roughly 25 miles of coast along Washington State's Olympic National Park. The students must work as a team divvying up shared equipment and food; they test their map reading skills; learn how to schedule hikes so as to make sure their group can pass by headlands that are only passable at low tides; all while carrying their own personal equipment.

This year, the group decided to make one of the tidal moves early in the morning. Alarms were set at 2am and the team was hiking by 3 o'clock. Navigating by headlamp until the sun rose posed a unique challenge--the world seemed to only exist within the 3 foot circumference of light emitted by their headlamps.

Some years the students enjoy beautiful weather, while other years the notoriously wet coastline lives up to its reputation. This year the students were treated to a mix of both. The rain fell in heavy amounts at the start and ended with a few beautiful afternoons and mornings of sunshine. All in all, these 10th graders performed incredibly well and overcame many of the challenges that stymie even the most accomplished outdoor adventurers!

River Running The Middle Fork Salmon Blowouts

Mon, 21 Aug 2023 01:37:07 GMT

Geology and Weather in Real Time

Intense wildfires and weather set upon the mountains above the Middle Fork of the Salmon river with a vengeance these past few summers. On a random day back in August of 2021, I secured a cancellation permit that granted me permission to float the famed Middle Fork. I was ecstatic to have the opportunity to spend time kayaking this amazing river. However, a week before my start date a wildfire began near the upper launch site, Boundary Creek Guard Station, which became closed as fire fighters managed the blaze. Since the river was closed due to the close proximity of the fire, my permit was rolled over until 2022.

Come August, 2022, the morning before my launch date, as I did my final sweep through my house to make sure everything was in order, with friends in the driveway stoked to be heading out to float the Middle Fork--my cell phone rang. On the line was the river ranger informing me that the previous night torrential rain storms saturated the creeks, gullies, and slopes above the upper river that had burned the year previous--causing massive blowouts where tons of gravel, mud, trees, and boulders were flushed into the riverbed choking it, redirecting flows into new and unknown rapids. Like 2021, the river was closed again so rangers could assess the situation and my permit was rolled over to 2023.

This August, a week before my launch date another round of heavy rains saturated the unstable soils above the river causing even larger blowouts than in 2022. The river closed again, however, I wasn't ready to concede that running the Middle Fork off the top was out of the question. I wanted to see these massive landslides. I wanted to manage portaging around them. I wanted to scout the river like it was a new river and my first time down. I did not see a reason to not allow my group of experienced rafters and kayakers to attempt the adventure.

After many emails and correspondences, I was given the go ahead to descend the upper Middle Fork from Boundary Creek to Indian Creek with one 12' raft, three inflatable kayaks, and four hardshell kayaks. Launching from Boundary Creek in mid-August with only my group was a treat unfathomable. Typically, there are a few dozen boats and kayaks of all sizes ready to shove off everyday from June through September. It's a scene full of Skittles colored boats and river folk psyched to get going. This year, we had the place all to ourselves.

That first day, August 13th, we ran to Dolly Lake passing through the new major blowouts in Sulfur, Hells Half Mile, and Vinegar. The changed landscape was awesome. Running new whitewater with so many logs and unknowns was challenging and felt like a first descent. The portages were not nearly as difficult as we had expected them to be thanks to our light boats and we actually enjoyed walking over sections of the river that were once where famed rapids used to be. This was especially true at Velvet Falls where for as many years and any modern day river rafter can remember, the river ran river right of the triangle rock--after this year's landslides--the river now run left of the famous boulder; we walked over ten or more feet of gravel and boulders piled above the shelf drop that was once Velvet Falls.

Having experienced the new landscape, I cannot wait to see how spring floods move the debris piles around. Will the river return to its former runs? Will it carve new rapids? Will more blowouts happen? I'm sure all of these things will happen--only time will tell.

South Fork of the Salmon River

Tue, 11 Jul 2023 23:43:46 GMT

Kayaking and Rafting the South Fork at 2.5'

Reputations are tied to rivers just as they are to people. Some stretches of whitewater hold stories of triumph or tragedy and help explain throughout rafting and kayaking circles the characteristics that support their reputation. The Salmon river system in Idaho has a myriad of runs, from the famous (permitted) Middle Fork and Main, to the "Day Stretch" outside of Stanley, or, the "Lower" below White Bird, Idaho. But one run that doesn't get a lot of press is the South Fork of the Salmon--and for good reason--it's got a reputation.

When a river has class V rapids, has claimed numerous lives, and at high flows seeks the attention of professional boaters, it's character is called into question by mere mortals and it becomes one of those rivers for those who enjoy high water, high consequence, whitewater. For me, this reputation intimidated me for many years and while I wanted to experience the beauty of this river first hand, it's kayaking and rafting history kept me at bay. Finally, after learning that there was a trail down most of the river and that most of the difficult rapids could be portaged, a group of five kayaking friends and one rafter set out in early July to give the South Fork Salmon a try.

I've heard stories of people getting worked by the rapids on the South Fork Salmon--getting thrown from their catarafts, getting stuck in holes so long that their friends had time to hike back upstream to find out what had gone wrong. There are stories of tragedy too when acquaintances have died on this run. For me, not being a big water kayaker, the choice to wait until the river was more manageable was an easy one--I didn't want anything to do with the big water reputation.

Our crew put in with the river at 2.5' on the Krassel gauge and used Mi'chelle's All River Shuttles to get our vehicles to Carey Creek boat ramp on the Main. A spike in temps was taking hold over the mountains for the first time of the year after a long and wet Spring. Like the other stretches of whitewater on the Salmon rivers, the South Fork has pool drop rapids, but, the rapids are longer and more technical before reaching the placid pools below. From the start of the trip, enjoyable class II, III, and IV whitewater got us warmed up as we cruised and carved our way reading and running until Devil's Slide.

After scouting, we chose to run the right side of Devil's slide with everyone coming through clean after dropping through a few slots, punching waves and holes. The relief after running the first big rapid was palpable and we all started to feel like the South Fork at 2.5' was something we could not only accomplish--but enjoy. We ran a few more miles of river before finding a beautiful sandy beach where we set up camp for the night. After a few beers, our creativity came up with the game, "Human Tests of Skill and Strength." Between shot-putting the unusually spherical stones that were laying all around and pitching smaller stones to knock a larger stone off a stick, we all thought we were hilarious and enjoyed the time acting younger than we are.

Day two of our trip was a meat and tater's kind of day. From the start, the horizon lines and boulders sticking out of the water sent us to shore to scout. Surprise was the wake up call before getting into the likes of Elk Creek, Greyhound, and of course, Falls Creek. Thankfully, the sun shone, the water was gin clear, and our skills were up to snuff so that we all made it through every rapid without an upset, pin, or worse. As expected, the rapids were all technical at the 2.5' level, there were some big holes to avoid, but most our rockered boats punched through. There were definitely class V consequences in some of the rapids like Falls Creek, but, the reputation of the South Fork made popular by the big water runs wasn't the vibe on the river. By taking our time, studying the lines, and enjoying the adventure of running a new river, we all had an amazing trip.

T he South Fork of the Salmon river here in Idaho is currently threatened by proposed mines upstream of this amazing kayaking and rafting run. If you'd like to learn more about the threats to the fishery, recreation, and the indigenous history of this amazing river, please visit these sites:

Save the South Fork

Idaho Conservation League

Glacial Skiing at Mistaya Lodge, BC, Canada

Tue, 02 May 2023 17:16:57 GMT

Not so steep, but ever so sweet...

Giving over the reigns to a guide was a new experience for me. As I looked up at all the eye candy hanging over Mistaya Lodge and the glacial valleys, I couldn't help but ask our guide if we would have the chance to ski some of couloirs and steeper sections. Unfortunately, the snowpack was not set for travel in such terrain, but who was to complain about what lay below where skiing would be safe, soft, and fun!

Getting to Mistaya Lodge can be done under human power in a day, but, the helicopter ride is the way in. Departing from Golden, BC, Canada, the flight is quick and scenic; the final approach is especially unique as the landing is an ascent to the edge of a hanging valley where limestone cliffs with frozen waterfalls line hanging valley where the lodge is located. Once back on the ground, it's just a one hundred foot walk to Mistaya Lodge with stunning views of the glaciers that feed Wildcat Creek.

Mike Schwartz, owner of The Backcountry bike and ski shop in the Truckee/Lake Tahoe area, arranged this trip as a Manager's meeting. Having worked for Mike many years ago, he graciously invited me and my good friend Baldwin Goodell to join the crew. The extent of my overnight backcountry adventures have mostly been those where the luxurious accommodations involved double layered air mattresses in a 2 person Bibler tent. The level of service at Mistaya was amazing--the super chill atmosphere, family run and operated, was welcoming and easy. To our luck, @chefjennibunyan prepared the most sumptuous meals for our hungry team of 16!

After picking roommates and rooms, we were off on a tour to a nearby shoulder which offered tree'd gullies and forested runs to help stretch the legs and inflate the lungs. The winter of '22/23 wasn't spectacular for the peaks surrounding Mistaya, but there was plenty of snow--enough to keep the sharks submerged. As per typical Canadian guide standards, the skin track and switchbacks were pro and helped keep our legs under us while we accumulated thousands of vert day after day.

The weather came and went in mystical waves of clouds closing in our views entirely and then opening up vignettes and windows to the stunning walls and features that had been obscured above. Every so often one the lead guide would extend his probe and sink it in measuring resistance in order to assure that our path or resting spot wasn't above a thin snow bridge. Most days, we skied in harnesses as a precaution that would aid a quick recovery in case someone fell. With the inclement weather came small accumulations of snow each day and night--enough to keep turns soft and not so deep as to slow some of the low angle terrain down to slogging.

As the last day of skiing arrived, the weather and snow gods granted us visibility and great snow all day long. We returned to the daily norm of appetizers and beers on the porch until the temps dropped warranting our move indoors to continue the festivities.

Kayaking the Upper and MIddle Owyhee River

Wed, 12 Apr 2023 02:23:07 GMT

Rising Water, Rising Rapids

When you say you live in Idaho, most people respond, "Iowa?" So, most Idahoans just say, "Yeah, Iowa. Sure thing." Then, when people finally come around to knowing that there is a state called, "Idaho," that isn't Iowa or Ohio, they conjure up images of flat land, potato farming, Mormon country, and wolf hating white supremacist crazy people. Again, we all just say "Yeah, Idaho, you got it." While all of those characteristics and problems do exists here in the Gem State, Idaho is a state full of ridiculous juxtapositions.

If you look at a map of Idaho, the bottom portion of the state is boxed in and contains the remnants of the geologic forces from the Yellowstone Hotspot. For the most part, when you're driving through the landscape of Southern Idaho--you are on top of layer upon layer of volcanic rock and your view in all directions is relatively boring. Sure, there are a few ranges off in the distance, but for the most part--the landscape is flat and full of either corn, cattle, or potatoes. The juxtaposition is that all the good stuff lies below you in the myriad of canyon lands that water has carved over millennia.

One such river system lies in the remote Owyhee mountains. The feeling you have once you've entered the canyons carved by the multiple forks therein feel more akin to Southern Utah: hoodoos, cliff walls, arches, and slot canyons abound for the adventurous soul. If you're willing to study maps, throw yourself into wild whitewater, and hope to come out in one piece at the end of any of the numerous roadless, multiday, stretches of river--dip below the horizon line and give an adventure here a try.

This past Spring, a group of friends and I ran the upper and middle sections of the Owyhee. We launched on April 8th as the forecast called for unseasonably warm temperatures to heat up and melt the snowpack the days we'd be on the river. As we shoved our boats into the water, the hydrology gauge in Rome, Oregon, reported less than 1000 cubic feet/sec; when we took our boats out of the water three days later--it was nearly 7000 cfs. Though we portaged the two class V rapids, the other whitewater packed a punch and got our hearts beating everytime a new horizonline appeared--the whitewater we ran was as intense as the scenery was beautiful.

Here are some images from the adventure....

Kenai Fjords National Park :: Sea to Ski

craig@craigwolfrom.com (Craig Wolfrom) — Tue, 10 May 2022 03:25:22 GMT

My stomach was in turmoil thanks to an abundance of stress the weeks before leaving for a trip I had put together--a ten day sea-to-ski trip that would take five friends into the bays of Kenai Fjords National Park, Alaska. Multiple times a day during the weeks prior to heading north to Alaska, I'd check NOAA's weather and watched what appeared to be typical: coastal rain at sea level with multiple feet of snow accumulating every week. I was afraid I'd asked my friends to throw down their hard earned cash and time away for a trip where we'd be stuck on a sailboat drinking below deck for ten days with shit weather falling outside and avalanche conditions so high that we'd never bother to get off the boat. Not only that, but, Patagonia and Alaskan Brewery sponsored our trip and National Park Magazine and I signed a contract for a Winter 22/23 article!

It wasn't looking good when we arrived in Seward and made our way to meet the captain of the Madrona, the 35 foot sailboat that would be our home. Nathan Straubinger, who owns Resurrection Bay Sailing Charters with his wife, Kate, was busy getting final preparations in order while the biggest snowflakes I'd ever seen fell on the myriad of neighboring boats tied in their slips: trawlers, sailboats, tugs, etc. We carried our Alaskan Brewery cases and some groceries to the Madrona that evening before the light faded, then, hit up the local taqueria for dinner, followed by a night cap of bourbon, and finally a fitful sleep on the boat.

Parting clouds surprised us as we hurried to load the remaining provisions and gear on the boat. By the time we left the dock, the sun was out and the peaks were glowing with afternoon light. Without any wind, we were forced to motor out and into Resurrection Bay. We anchored in the scenic Thumb Cove a few miles out from Seward. Pulling in to Thumb Cove our eyes lit up with possible ski lines now visible above us. We'd made it to the land where the snow touched the sea--we'd get up early, take the dingy to shore, and ski a line before heading over to our first fjord--Aialik Bay. Unfortunately, we woke the following morning to the typical coastal weather I'd be stressing over: rain, rain, and more rain.

So, instead of skiing in the rain, we pulled anchor and began the move west to Aialik Bay. Six to eight foot seas passed from port to starboard as we crossed the north end of the Gulf of Alaska, waves crashed against the rugged coastline, and a few of us reached for the Dramamine. Once around Cape Aialik, the seas calmed and we hoisted the sails hoping the wind would carry us to our destination. Unfortunately, the light wind wasn't enough to move us much, so, we motored on and dropped anchor just north of Coleman Bay.

The next two days we played a game of cat and mouse with the weather. We'd wake to partly sunny skies, rally to get on the dingy and to shore as fast as possible to get a ski tour started, only to be hit by a squall of snow after 500 vertical feet of skinning. An hour later visibility would increase, then another squall would come and we'd be socked in again. On our first tour, we dug a six foot deep snow-pit at 1300' above sea level, then probed and didn't hit ground! There were a few layers that were suspect and coming from the faceted Idaho snowpack, we had a difficult time reading the hazards. Skiing those first days under the flat light was accomplished primarily by braille, and thankfully Gaia and CalTopo worked to keep us in the know as to where we were, the overhead hazards, etc. We were all psyched that we were getting off the boat, making turns, and feeling adventurous. Seeing everyone having a good time made my stress level diminished a bit and we all agreed that anything better than what we were getting those first days was going to be icing on the cake.

From Aialik Bay we headed west, around Aligo Point, and into Harris Bay where the Northwestern Fjord and glacier reside. Thankfully, this travel day was crappy weather--rain and sleet--it was a perfect day to be spent drinking Alaskan Brewery brews and moving the boat to a new spot. Thankfully, no serious ocean swell hampered our move and we pulled into the north end of Harris Bay, found a safe anchorage, made dinner and started planning for the next days ski tour.

When we woke the first morning in Harris Bay, there was not a cloud in the sky. We rallied to shore like a squall was going to slam into us at any minute, but, for the rest of the trip we enjoyed a high pressure system that blew our mind. Within minutes of starting the first ski tour in Harris Bay, south facing slopes began erupted with avalanches. The solar radiation from the sun was warming the recent snowfall. It was a bit unnerving and the constant roar of slides puckered our sphincters enough for us to seek out mellower north facing slopes to ski. We scored boot deep powder from 3500 feet above our boat all the way back to the shore--a true sea-to-ski moment. The grins, stoke, and thrill of being the only people in an entire fjord, as well as the beers stashed dingy-side made for a day none of us would ever forget. The next three days were a repeat: bluebird day, north facing slopes with boot deep pow, 3000 to 4000 foot vert days, and beers at the dingy. Skiing all the way to the coast day after day was surreal!

It was tough to leave a good thing behind out there in Harris Bay, but, time and reality were finally catching up with us. We were two fjords west of Seward and a two day sail back, unfortunately, our charter was coming to an end. So, we motored and sailed our way east breaking up the journey by anchoring at Bulldog Cove where we spent the final full day exploring the cirques above and north of the lagoon. North facing powder was now crusting up, but, south aspects were pure corn bliss. Climbing up above Bulldog to the ridge separating Aialik and Resurrection Bay, then skiing those final lines with views back on the southern islands of Resurrection Bay was breathtaking.

All that pre-trip stress and worry about being socked in and boat-ridden for ten days prior to setting out was worth it. Truth be told, had the weather not cleared to bluebird, the nature of the squalls passing through and then offering vignettes of the mountainous and glacial grandeur would have still made the trip epic. Be sure to support Patagonia as they not only make incredibly durable outdoor clothing, have a crazy warranty, but also support environmental initiatives like no other company out there. Drink Alaskan Brewery beers because they are soooo delicious and keep your eyes peeled for my article in National Parks Magazine this winter!

On Location: La Jolla, California, Tidal Pools with Neutral Density Filters

craig@craigwolfrom.com (Craig Wolfrom) — Sun, 28 Nov 2021 23:41:51 GMT

La Jolla, California, Tidal Pools - Using Neutral Density Filters at High Tide

Using Neutral Density Filters for long shutter exposures at tidal pools requires some planning, timing, and a bit of equipment.

This past Thanksgiving I enjoyed a week along break from the mountains of Idaho while visiting family and friends just north of La Jolla, California. Having grown up surfing the cold water of Santa Cruz and the breaks south of San Francisco, I was in 7th heaven getting a few surf sessions in with a childhood friend. Watching the tidal charts for low and high tides both served to help time surf sessions, as well as when to visit the tidal pools.

The first trip to La Jolla's tidal pools was to share the marine wonders with my you niece. For this, we ventured out at low tide and found all sorts of creatures to check out. My wife was surprised that I didn't want to take my camera along for this outing, but, I explained that the number our tourists exploring the features, critters, and coves, along with the water moving around the rocks further away out--made me want to wait until the tide was high.

I returned at at +5' tide and found just what I wanted--a small swell sending in surges of water up the channels, splashing over bands of rock, and swirling around the pools. Because the pools were mostly filled with water, no one was around. I was also fortunate that a thin layer of clouds was above me with intermittent bursts of sunshine.

Having the tidal pools to myself, I put my Sony a9ii on my Manfrotto tripod and began using Sony's 24-70 f/2.8 lens with Hoya's Solac 82mm 6 stop neutral density filter . With my ISO reduced to 50, I set my aperture anywhere between f/7.1 to it's max setting at f/22 and enjoyed the long multi second exposures I was seeking. It was a blast waiting for the waves to surge into the tight crevasses and then see the images on the LCD screen.

After a few images were captured at 24mm, I swapped lenses for Sony's 16-35mm f/2.8 and captured this vertical image going for an extreme field of view from just beyond my feet all the way up to the distant horizon:

Finally, I thought I should get after some tighter images instead of just shooting the wide variety. So, putting the 24-70 back on, I zoomed in on a rocky area I had noticed waves rushing over just as the sun burned through the thin clouds. I love creating these types of images as some viewers have difficulty understanding the scale of the scene. I've shown the image below this paragraph to some folks who take the the rock at a large cliff, while others catch on that it's really only a 4-6" drop!

Photographing rushing water at La Jolla's tidal pools was a great time. Having a tripod, neutral density filter, and an idea on when to visit whether high or low tide can really help you get great images!

Grand Targhee, Wyoming, Mountain Bike Night Photos with Off Camera Flash

craig@craigwolfrom.com (Craig Wolfrom) — Mon, 06 Sep 2021 00:45:05 GMT

Mountain biking & using Sony's FA-WRC1M Radio Control Wireless Commander

When I started photographing back in middle school, I learned on my dad's Canon AE-1 film camera. Since then, I've gone through most of the major brands and formats including Nikon, Hasselblad, and even a Zone VI Field Camera. Today, I'm excited to say that I'm shooting with Sony Alpha Equipment. I use Sony's a9ii camera body and their amazing lineup of lenses, flashes, and accessories. The reason I use the word, "excited" is because I've never used a camera system so advanced, powerful, fast, and light that makes for such crisp and colorful images.

Back when I was photographing with Canon and then Nikon, off camera TTL flash was difficult at best. I tried a variety of Pocket Wizard models, inexpensive third party knock offs, as well as the name brand flashes and controllers. None every really nailed the flash output, sync speed, recycle time, nor the guarantee that each time I'd press the shutter--a flash of light would emit from the strobe! I can say that problem is now over with Sony's off camera controller, FA-WRC1M Radio Control Wireless Commander, and their F60RM (newer model is the F60RM2 ). The ease of using these two accessories is basically plug-n-play. The high speed sync is incredible, guide number output is astounding, and the TTL sync is phenomenal!

These images are from my first time trying out the system. I was at Grand Targhee near Driggs, Idaho, photographing some mountain bikers at dusk. There was enough light to mountain bike, but, I was able to stop down my aperture to basically take out most of the ambient light for a few of the shots and let the flash light the scene as per my vision. If you've not experimented with off camera strobe photography, give it a whirl as it's really fun.

The quick and dirty of using strobes (off or on camera) is to keep in mind that you're blending two exposures: 1) the camera controlling the ambient light, and 2) the flash and it's output. Set the camera first for the ambient, then use the stobe's +/- if using TTL to control output, or, if using the flash's manual mode, increase or decrease the power. Then, there are the nuances you'll need to master like which aperture suffices to keep the D.O.F. enough for your subject, how much shutter drag you'd like/can get away with, how far to push the ISO to keep either of the aforementioned working for you, whether to zoom the strobe, use a small softbox, bounce the light, etc. etc!