Tall ships in Old Sacramento

My head's still swimming with all the sunshine we've been having. The cold, crisp nights and bright sunny days have produced what, IMHO, has been the BEST fall color Sacramento's ever seen! At least in the 23 years I've lived here.

Last week I kidnapped Fred for a stop off at Old Sacramento's port to see if the old-school tall ships were still there. Making our way to the riverbank, we discovered the most beautiful scene right behind the railroad museum:
I wanted to grab any ol' couple and do an impromptu photo session. The sad thing is, this spot will not stay this way for long.

Meandering down the dock, we watched the train come into the station. The steam boiled over as the engine was refueled.
Sadly, the old sailing ship was nowhere to be seen. The docks were abuzz with visitors, and for once it was fun to linger in the ol' tourist trap. We continued across Capitol to the south of Tower Bridge. Lo and behold -- the old sailing ship was making its way back to port!

Though a rainstorm threatened, sun regularly broke through the grey and backlit the ship's sails. I realized what had to happen next, and soon a deafening horn warned vehicle and pedestrians to get off the bridge! (As you can see, the school-bus-yellow paint that everyone worried was too bright has indeed mellowed into the glint of a gold nugget.)

Even the old ziggurat building was in rare form.

Satisfied with our inspection of the Hawaiian Chieftain, Fred and I wandered back by the taffy store, blissfully happy about our afternoon date.

Sure beats reruns of Cheyenne.

It's all in the light...

Tonight a few photographer friends and I got together for a little experimentation with lighting. One of our PPSV members, Ruben Gonzalez, who recently earned his PPA Certification, led a session of advanced lighting techniques. I'll just call it, "Getting it right with video light."

The lovely Leah was our model. In this dramatic image, we lit the model through the slats of a bamboo tea tray to mimic a moonlit night through shutters. It was amazing to see what a beautiful result you can get with such modest set.

Nothing like a fun night playing around with light to refresh and invigorate the creative spirit. Thank you for your patience, Leah!

Puppy love

I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow I got the rep for being a dog-hater. Me! a hater!

This, just because I don't cuddle up in bed with a couple of hundred-pound canines. Under the covers. Pushing me off. On my pillow. Yech.

Now, don't get me wrong. I've walked my dogs (yes, plural) over the years. It's just that taking them with me sometimes causes more trouble when we confront other pups on their territory. I like my walks to be more serene. Quiet -- that's what I like.

I admit that when I come home and say hi to whomever is present, I don't usually notice that my Australian shepherd mix-mutt is desperate for my attention. To her credit, Freckles persists in tap-dancing before me, click-clacking on the Pergo, non-stop, until I have no choice but to show her the love.

Lately, I've indulged her a little more quickly than usual. Rubbing her ears, which, if she's just come in from outdoors, are frosty and need warming. Tempting her with nose-to-almost-nose contact... no licking! Scratching that place in the middle of her rump that's hard to reach.

She really is sweet. Never messes in the house. Always obeys. Even eats those barbecue chips Fred throws her way, even though it doesn't look like she likes them.

Heck, she's not so bad. And if I'd keep up my pet-owner responsibility of brushing her with the special $40 hair remover once in a while, I wouldn't even have that much to complain about. And it's good for my blood pressure.

But I draw the line at my bed. Sorry.

Jasmine Star comes to PPSV

She came, she shared, she conquered!

Jasmine Star may be relatively new to the photography business, but she certainly lives up to her name.

At last night's meeting of the Professional Photographers of Sacramento Valley, Jasmine shared her philosophy and the secrets to her success--and challenged us to send her photos of her in action. As all I had was my Canon G9, and the house was packed, this video will have to do!

The house was packed with regulars and guests who follow her blog. I know I'll be stalking her from now on.

She was truly an inspiration the way she uses new media to connect with her clients. Hopefully just a couple of megawatts of her energy rubbed off on me!

A fall color explosion in Yosemite

Recently, Fred and I stole away to Yosemite National Park, hoping to see some fall color. I've never been to the park at this time of year before, and I certainly wasn't disappointed. Brilliant yellow leaves were popping out everywhere; warm sunshine-filled days made the sky a vibrant blue.

Inspired by a friend's recent trek to Half Dome, we set out for Vernal Falls along the Mist Trail. Three hours straight up convinced us to come back by a more moderate route, so we returned on the Muir Trial, which you see at left. It was so beautiful that I stopped short in my limping tracks several times to haul out my camera. After a "refreshing" rain, the skies cleared, revealing a starry field I hoped to capture digitally.

Up well before dawn, I fiddled around trying for an acceptable exposure. I did have moderate success painting the cliff face with my flashlight (see left). What an awesome scene -- and unbelievably comfortable for late October.

With the recent rains contributing to the runoff, even Yosemite Falls--usually quiet at this time of year--put on a spectacular show for us. And Mirror Lake was filling up.

The only hardship was staying in the "heated" tent cabins -- the only affordable accommodations in the valley available at the last minute. It was rather chilly at night. Good opportunity to cuddle up!

All in all, it was a wonderful respite. It was so invigorating and inspiring, I'm afraid I went a little crazy:

(Of course it's fake -- you think I'm insane?)

Visit YouTube for a slideshow with more of my images of Yosemite in Fall, complete with music. Enjoy!

A tightrope act worthy of kings

Every night on the zocalo, if you're not too distracted by the many musicians, soccer games, vendors and the yard-of-beer dispenser, you may see a world class tightrope act performed by Jose Esqueda Ochoa, who also sells souvenirs from a cart. Our last evening in Veracruz I asked his name and story, and this is what he told me.

Jose learned his trade 49 years ago from his father, with whom he said he worked in an Italian circus for years. Jose has also spent years harvesting crops in the south in the U.S. (He claims in some way to be related to the Flying Wallendas, though Tino Wallenda didn't know him; he says Esqueda is a common name in the circus.)

Whatever his lineage, I'll let Jose's work speak for itself. All I know is that Jose peformed religiously every night--once to a near-empty plaza during a rainstorm at 2 a.m.

Watch the video on YouTube here. After you see it, tell me what you think!

Life on the Zocalo

We stayed at the Hotels Colonial and Imperial right on the zocalo, a fantastic choice for exposure to local culture. Every day around noon or so, the square freshly swept and washed, the vendors begin laying out their wares on blankets and carts. Indians with blusas, wooden spoons, hand-painted bookmarks and other merchandise bound to their backs patrol the area.

In what was to become our regular practice, we stopped at the Grand Cafe del Portal for a lechero. The espresso comes in a tall glass, to which is added a healthy amount of steamed milk, poured from an impressive height by a skilled waiter. See the process here:
(I apologize for the quality; had the wrong setting! I have another video, but this was the best show.)

The zocalo is, well, intense. Several cafes line the square in front of each hotel. On any given evening, there may be four or five bands vying for attention. When fully employed (they only play when paid), the cacophany is at once exhiliarating and overwhelming and intoxicating. Something NOT to be missed.

By the end of our stay I had come to love the intimacy of the Indian children pressing on us at midnight trying to sell us a macrame bracelet. The first night, while we were still trying to be cool, "No, gracias" was our standard reply. But by night four I think we had purchased just about everything in their inventory.

Mindi did get one girl to crack up when she mimicked her pitiful plea. (These children are well fed and cared for by their parents, who work nearby and watch over them. ) So she sent over her little sister, who was determined not to break character:

One night around midnight, one girl persisted in her quest to get us to buy a bracelet. I didn't really want one, but I relented and slipped her a few small coins to get her to leave. "Shh!" I said, putting my finger to pursed lips, warning her not to tell anyone.

Three minutes later, four or five younger children descended on our table and serenaded us with their simple, childish song. "Copera, copera" (or something that sounded like that), they requested.

"No copera," I insisted. Their sister shouldn't have told, I reckoned. The youngsters soon evaporated into the night. I never saw those little ones again.

Heck, I should have given them something. They deserved it.