Bear River and Clay Slough

May 19, 2016

I've gone out several times over the past weeks, around Benson, and the Cutler Marsh, and I'm feeling like I'm really getting to know the Bear River and Cache Valley on a deeper level, though there's still so much more to discover.

I also bought a 6x9 medium format rangefinder recently, and it's been fun getting back into film photography, even though I haven't gotten any of the film developed yet. It's been nice to have to slow down and not take the "shotgun approach" that digital can allow you to take. I've noticed I approach the photographed scene just slightly differently with film. I'm sure the focal length of the lens and the fact that it's a rangefinder with no light meter has something to do with this change.

Here are some photos from the last few outings.

Tree Blown by the Breeze, Bear River, Benson, Utah, 2016

Irrigation Pump House, Clay Slough, Utah, 2016

Parking Lot and Sign Post, Clay Slough, Utah, 2016

Benson

April 13, 2016

On Saturday evening we drove out to Benson again so I could photograph. Here are a some of the evening's fruits:

Cottowoods, Bear River, Benson, Utah, 2016

Live and Fallen Cottonwood Trees, Benson, Utah, 2016

Cottonwood Trees on the Banks of Bear River, Benson, Utah, 2016

Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge—One Year Later

April 8, 2016

A couple weeks ago, I went out to the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, accompanied by my father-in-law while Gina watched the LDS General Women's Conference broadcast.

As I mentioned in my last post, Gina and I went out there on our third date. It was my first time ever going there, and I knew that the place had a lot of potential for some really great photographs. The way the land has been altered, and the way the Bear River has been diverted and channelled really draws me in. Since around my time in college, I've been intrigued as to how we humans interact and change the land around us, for better or worse. And as I've been out photographing periodically over the last three or four weeks, I've ended up along the Bear River. Most of the time it's been intentional; I love to photograph water—I always have, ever since I first started learning how to really operate a camera and control exposure. There is a part of me that is concerned that that subject matter is low hanging fruit for me, creatively. It's pretty easy to make a good photograph of water. The land around Cache Valley still remains a challenge to me. Back in 2013, I discussed some of the challenges I faced in dealing with the landscape of Cache Valley, and I think I still struggle with it a little. At least when it comes to subjects of photographs that aren't rivers or streams or other bodies of water. One side of me says to not worry about it and to just stick with what I'm good at. And there's nothing really bad about that. I think it's a valid argument. But there's also part of me—a large part—that realizes that there's no growth in doing only what you're comfortable with.

But, I'll stop rambling for now, and get on with the photographs:

Bear River, East Pass, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Old River Channel, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Bear River, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Bear River Diverted Into Four Channels, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Mayor'sPond

June 6, 2015

Spring Hollow

February 22, 2015

Home Waters

May 2, 2012

Home is where the heart is. We've all heard it. By that definition, I think I have at least half a dozen homes, from Idaho Falls, to Rexburg, to Island Park, to the Canary Islands, to right here in Logan.
So, what is my "home water"?
I learned to fly fish on the Falls River, beneath an old railroad bridge. Just in that one short stretch of river, there are several types of water to fish. It's nice and wide and has a nice shallow section that kids can wade pretty easily. I have a lot of fond memories of that place. Crossing the railroad bridge that's about 50 feet above the water, on railroad ties that were spread far enough apart that me and my brothers thought we would surely fall to our death if we made one false step. Every time we went there, we would pull an old railroad spike, or some other rusted piece of metal that once held the rails on the bridge, and take it home as a souvenir. I remember one of my brothers waving his rod back and forth like he was trying to fend off a few hundred dozen birds from Alfred Hitchcock's movie.
I also spent time fishing on the South Fork of the Snake River. I remember wading through water cress and other aquatic plants that hid the bottom of the river and all the deep holes that seemed to want to swallow me whole.
I remember my brother snagging his crayfish fly in a tree on the banks of the Madison River in Yellowstone. My late grandfather was on that trip. In fact, I think he was the one that bought that crayfish in a fly shop in West Yellowstone.
Now, by the definition of "home" as being one's geographic location, my "home waters" are the Logan and the Blacksmith Fork Rivers. I've really grown to love these two rivers, especially the Blacksmith Fork. They're both pretty narrow rivers, both are really overgrown, and there's very little calm water on either, though the Blacksmith Fork is a little slower than the Logan. I've fished them so much, that when I return to the rivers I fished as a young teenager, I almost forget the tactics I have to use on bigger, wider rivers.
I've lived in Orem, and Salt Lake City, and I didn't really feel inclined to claim either as Home, or call myself a Utahan. I've lived here in Logan for just under four years now, and though I still hesitate to call myself a Utahan, Logan is one of the places I call Home, and if I ever leave, I'm sure it's a place my heart will be.

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