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Got the alert on the PulsePoint app, went "holy crap, that's a mile away!", grabbed my 80-200mm zoom, and bailed. I could already see the visibly thickening plume of smoke before I even shut the door behind me. Managed to get in before any road closures (Interstate 8 was eventually shut down over a mile in each direction!), and arrived right as the last of the first alarm units pulled in. Apparently the first photographer to get up to the edge of the canyon, I got some killer shots of the SDFD and Heartland crews setting up their structure protection operations. Within five minutes of getting there I saw the fire spread probably half a mile or better, with the wind scattering embers hundreds of feet away. At one point, I ended up helping a stretch a hose line to knock down a spot fire that flared up about 50 feet from the back yards of the homes. Then came the air drops. SDFD, SD Sheriff, and SDG&E all had their helicopters pulling water from Lake Murray and provided non-stop water bombing salvos – so close, I was getting misted! Hats off to our professionals who saved all the houses up on the hilltop this afternoon!
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Encompassing 40,000 acres of sweeping red sandstone outside Las Vegas, it's not hard to see how Valley of Fire State Park got its name.     Oops, my shutter stayed open for a minute. That's the moonrise, not the sunrise.  Moonlight on the red megaliths.  Zabriskie Point, Death Valley  I'm seeing five different layers of textures here.  Ubehebe Crater, Death Valley. This 600' deep hole was created a mere 300 years ago, when rising magma hit groundwater, creating a steam explosion. Just a few miles past the Nevada state line lies the deserted mining town of Rhyolite. An early-20th century gold rush sprang up a settlement of nearly 5,000 in this Mojave Desert locale over the course of a couple years. When mine productivity and economic stability began to falter, the population plummeted, leaving the town in ruins barely a decade later. Abandoned shafts and tunnels abound in the surrounding hills, shrouded in chainlink barriers and foreboding signage. Along the main street, the last remaining structures include a schoolhouse, bank, rail depot, and a curious house with walls built from myriad glass bottles. Near the entrance, plaster-cast ghost sculptures facelessly beckon visitors upon the windswept moonscape. With all the talk of the supermoon, I trekked up Cowles to catch the moon coming up. Although a layer of smoke across the eastern horizon obscured much of the moonrise itself, the sunset was well worth it in and of itself.  The regular crowd shuffles in.  Popping up behind Cuyamaca Peak.  Oh look, the full moon. Let's all take pictures of ourselves in the dark.  The color patterns sort of remind me of the bluffs and mesas of the Painted Desert  The big light goes out, and the little lights come on.  At the twilight's last gleaming. Took a hike up Cowles Mountain with my 80-200mm to try to get some shots of the full (well, 98% full) moon rising over East County. Up on top, I decided to kill some time beforehand taking some twilight cityscape shots out toward downtown. Definitely not something I'd want to attempt again without a tripod, but it was a fun experience seeing just how much I could push the ISO on the 5D MkIII and still get usable image quality while shooting handheld.  "Whoa, a snake – no wait, it's just a twig – oh shoot, it really is a snake."  Looking west toward Coronado  SDSU in the foreground; I think the slanted strip of lights going out toward downtown is El Cajon Blvd.  I love the way the craters up around 1:00 really bring out its three-dimensionality.  Ended up taking Arthur and Cliff down to the beach to give their paws a reprieve from the pavement. The water temperature's back down in the mid-60s now, but that didn't seem to faze either of these two goofballs.  Double trouble    Shake it up baby!  Not, in fact, mirror images  Retrieve, or retrieve not. There is no try.  Out with the old, in with the new.  Coming and going   One thing on his mind.  White dog solemnly contemplates the meaning of life. Black dog has no time for such petty philosophical digressions.  Cleared for takeoff  Lab heaven right there.  And here, the prototype Labmix Type 2 displays its superior shallow water ball retrieval capabilities.  I hope I didn't forget to bring a towel. Or five. Nothing like a cup of the best coffee in town to jumpstart a summer Sunday! Grabbed a cappuccino at Bird Rock Coffee Roasters after taking Arthur to the beach for some tennis ball action this morning. The lightly overcast sky made for pleasantly diffused lighting down at Marine Street Beach and up along La Jolla Boulevard.  Caffeine connoisseurs come in all shapes and sizes.  No hands? No problem.  This nose doesn't lie... there's more foam in the other cup.  You're gonna throw it, right?  50% Black Lab, 50% Weimaraner. 100% stoked.  Expect rain in the forecast from Hurricane Arthur.  Okay, well that's not exactly what I meant by "shake, buddy"...  We have liftoff! Took a little trip out to the coast last night in hopes of getting some nice golden sunset photos. While a thick marine layer quickly put a damper on that, the warm glow of the lively coastline created some picturesque scenes once the sun fell below the horizon.  Looking northeast from the Cove toward Shores. University City casts its peachy glow on the low ceiling while the Shores Hotel shimmers across the surface of the Pacific.  I was surprised to see the Cove this calm after talk of high surf from a Pacific hurricane.  The warm glow of sodium vapor lamps blurs into infinity as it reflects off the top of this railing.  Agave plants in the bright floodlights of the Cove's new lifeguard tower contrast the dark abyss.  Crystal clear water at the Cove |
ABOUTCynic, caffeine addict, retainer of useless information extraordinaire Archives
June 2018
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