Sunday, September 29, 2013

Mysteries and Myths

There were a slew of motivations for my recent photo safari to the left coast.  Among them were the continuation of my long look back at the places of my early childhood and a second visit to Fort Ord where I spent the summer of sixty in basic training and less sanctioned but equally instructive adventures at Main Beach in Carmel and a cabin in the redwoods above Santa Cruz. Then there was the pursuit of fog which quite naturally led me to the Marin coast where I left at least part of heart, apologies to San Francisco.
Farm in Fog, 1969
Credit where credit is due, the fog series was reignited at the Presidio of San Francisco three years ago but the real genesis was a flawed little number from Mendocino County in 1969. Blemishes notwithstanding the moody image stirs memories and melancholy like few other images have. 
Presidio Pines #1, 2010
The Bridge to Nowhere, 2010
Forty years later pea soup crept into San Francisco Bay producing a wondrous backdrop for wind bent pines and a mysterious bridge to nowhere.  

Then last month at Tomales Bay and the Point Reyes National Seashore I pursued the fog and other muses. I meandered through the rolling pastures and nineteenth century dairy farms that cover much of the Point Reyes Peninsula as I headed for the lighthouse.
Dairy Cattle at Drake's Estero, 2013

Dairy Cattle at Drake's Estero, 2013
Farm #1, 2013
At land's end Point Reyes Light was cloaked in fog and as invisible as the crashing surf. So instead I photographed the gnarled Bishop Pines along the path to the lighthouse, the moisture literally dripping from the canopy above me.  The fog's thick wetness enveloped me and masked the mysteries ahead and the Pacific a hundred feet below.
Pine Canopy at Point Reyes Light, 2013
Bishop Pines at Point Reyes Light, 2013
The trajectory of the alleged fog series has been long and shallow but lives again in West Marin.


8 comments:

  1. Those are some eerily, beautiful shots. I especially like the bridge to nowhere, and in the same vein, the path to the lighthouse beneath the windswept trees. Forboding, but breathtaking.

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  2. Thanks Jim. The one I called Canopy makes me feel that I'm there beneath the pines which, in fact, were dripping with moisture.

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  3. There is nothing like a Monterey cypress in the fog. Your newer images reflect the 1969 and 2010 images in such a magical way. You really can feel the tiny, cool water droplets on your skin. Magnificent photographs, Steve!

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  4. Thanks as always, Daryl.

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