Taken near the Marie Lakes, Ansel Adams Wilderness, Eastern Sierra, on July 3rd, 2013

There are a few pieces of photography equipment I consider indispensable when I’m in the backcountry: a camera and tripod of course, and a few filters and accessories. Who would’ve ever thought I’d wish for a chainsaw or a ladder to be part of my kit? While backpacking in the Sierra high country I found myself in the Marie Lakes Basin as a stunning sunset erupted over Mt. Lyell. I had scouted this cascade earlier in the day and thought it would make an excellent foreground element for a photo. When time came to shoot I found my compositions limited by the rock I was standing on (another six inches to the right and I’d have fallen into a crystal clear pool of Sierra snowmelt), and thus I was forced to include some bushy trees, thrusting their way up between myself and the horizon. Now I would never ever go so far as to actually saw a tree down to improve a photo, but in my imagination that night the wood chips were flying as I clear cut those conifers to give me an unobstructed view of Mt. Lyell, Yosemite, and the sunset to the west.

Taken in the Marie Lakes Basin in the Ansel Adams Wilderness just east of Yosemite on July 3rd

Early July 2013 brought sweltering temperatures to California, and the extreme heat resulted in thunderstorms and clouds building along the Sierra crest for days at a time. I planned a backpacking and photography trip from Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite to June Lake, right along the Sierra crest, to take advantage of the light these storms were sure to bring. On my second night out, in the Marie Lakes Basin, this sunset unfolded over Mt. Lyell, the highest peak in Yosemite National Park. The end of the day brought not only color to the sky, but hordes of hungry mosquitoes to the basin. And since I was the largest mammal around for miles, it was a free-for-all feeding frenzy on me. And despite my layers of clothing and liberal application of bug spray I estimate I sustained about 200 bites this evening.

Taken at Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, Eastern Sierras, on October 6th, 2012

A place of timeless beauty, Thousand Island Lake sits high up in the Sierra near Mammoth Lakes, California. In this shot I wanted to give a sense of the enduring wonder of the place so I included these ancient granite blocks. I also used a minute-long exposure to give an ephemeral feel to the clouds.

Taken at Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, Eastern Sierras, on October 5th, 2012

The clouds were rushing overhead and a 30-second exposure created the streaks you see in this shot. The streaks in the foreground are yellow and purple mineral stripes through a green limestone.

Taken at Moonlight Lake in the Sabrina Basin, Eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains, on August 22nd 2011

“The mosquitoes will eat you alive.”

2011 had been an extremely snowy year in the Sierra and the massive snowpack was keeping the meadows marshy and bugs buggy a full month later than usual. As I chugged my way up the Blue Lake trail into the Eastern Sierras’ Sabrina Basin that refrain kept ringing in my ears and I debated turning back because of the dire warnings.

Yet 45 minutes into the hike I was still bite-free. I began to think the mosquito warnings were just a bit of overblown trail rhetoric, the kind of things you whine and bitch about but really aren’t all that bad. The more I hiked, the more confident I felt that things had been blown out of proportion. “Those foolish people and their mosquito talk, what were they afraid of. Ha ha ha, I’m so cool, and they are not.” And then I decided to stop and check my map.

Like little bloodsucking ninjas, a horde of mozzies swept out of the shadows to inflict bodily harm upon me. Every patch of my exposed skin was a target as they relentlessly swooped in to slurp the blood out of me. There was only one way out of this: keep walking.

But the mosquitoes weren’t going to be fooled that easily. Oh no, they had caught my scent and were sticking to me like tiny bloodhounds. So I fell back on another alternative: DEET, lots and lots of DEET. I imagined I could hear the mosquitoes sizzling and popping whenever they touched down on the chemical death now covering my body. But I didn’t feel any sympathy; quite the opposite: I was almost dancing in my petty triumph.

Over the next few days I fell into a standard routine: walk, DEET, swat. Eventually the mosquitoes and I came to an uneasy truce and they seemed to understand that if they got too close I was going to turn them into mosquito pulp. Soon the bugs stopped bothering me altogether and gave me the freedom to take pictures. Even the occasional sneak attack didn’t rile me up, because I learned a valuable lesson that trip: some views are worth the itch.