Terra Galleria Photography

Mui Ne Beach, Vietnam

The Ho Chi Minh City project is simply “The image of the President in the City”: in each of the photographs, all made in Ho Chi Minh City, there is a depiction of Ho Chi Minh, for instance as framed portrait, poster, sculpture, bust, post stamp, post card, or book cover. The continued presence of that image in several contexts amongst contemporary city life evokes several political and social issues related to communism, control, influences, history, and change, but rather than offering an answer, each photograph in the series remains open to individual interpretation. There is little contest that Ho Chi Minh was one of the most influential leaders of the 20th century (for the better or the worse, depending on whom you speak to), but nowadays that Ho Chi Minh City is at a center of a free-market economy, what is his legacy beyond a carefully cultivated figurehead image ? Is he still admired by the common people, or just a subject of a cult of personality ? Is he a sinister big-brother figure, an obsolete icon to whom nobody pays attention anymore, or a reassuringly familiar and respected symbol ? The photographs contain evidence for multiple readings.

Now for a contrast to this project, in this post I am presenting images of traditional – some would say eternal – Vietnam, photographed on the fishing beach of Mui Ne. I’ve posted before about the sand dunes, do you recognize this image, a gift to my subject ?. Once a sleepy fishing village famous for its fish sauce, Mui Ne has become in the last decade a popular resort town, whose main street is lined up with so many resorts on the ocean side that tourists outnumber locals on the sidewalks. Yet life hasn’t changed much over the years elsewhere.

If you go just a kilometer north of the main tourist area, the resorts become more sparse. Instead of catering to Western or Russian foreigners, their clientele consists of domestic tourists, mostly Saigonese on a quick getaway. Last December, while traveling with my family, we stayed at one of those resorts. The rate was good, the rooms less so. The folks from the neighboring room invited me to share some fish and beer. Unlike in the more expensive tourist area, the resort with surrounded by private houses belonging to fishermen. The following images were all made from less than a hundred yards from our beach-facing room from which we could observe their activities from dawn to dusk (more images).

A few more kilometers north, you get to the fishing village (Lang Chai). Down a long flight of stairs, the beach there is an early morning gathering place where fish and shell sellers wait for the fresh catch from on night’s work on the sea (more images).

Ho Chi Minh City project

For family reasons, I’ve been spending a fair amount of time in Ho Chi Minh City almost every year. Besides photographing sights all over the city, as well as many aspects of everyday life, I’ve been working on a more focused project. Here are a dozen images from that series. Can you guess what the series is about – the common element in each image ? Answer in the next blog post ! More images from the series and hints on Facebook and Google+.

Pinnacles National Park

I’ve not blogged much recently because I’ve been traveling this summer. I’ve quite a backlog of National Parks images to edit and process. The ones that I did process are from our newest National Park: Pinnacles.

The legislation for the new status was signed by President Barack Obama on Thursday, January 10, 2013. On January 11, the first day Pinnacles opened as a National Park, I arrived at the East Entrance at the crack of dawn. Instead of the spectacular rock formations for which the park is named, the first image of the new National Park that I made depicts grasses and shrubs covered with a layer of frost which would melt away a mere half-an-hour later. It is almost certainly the first large format photograph made in Pinnacles National Park.

As part of my National Park project, in the first half of 2013, I photographed Pinnacles more thoroughly, resulting in maybe the second most extensive gallery of photos of Pinnacles on the web. One afternoon, in order to photograph the namesake rock formations, I hiked up the High Peaks (1,200 feet elevation gain) with my 50 lbs large format camera bag to photograph at sunset. The sunset was weak. I didn’t take a single picture with the 5×7 that day and hiked down entirely in the dark. After a short night, the next day, I hiked up in the dark, arriving at a pre-scouted location half an hour before sunrise. However, just at sunrise, some clouds lighted unexpectedly and didn’t fit the composition I had set up with the 5×7. I frantically tried to recompose: take the holder out, open the lens, get the dark cloth on, move the camera, close the lens, stop down the lens, re-insert holder, re-meter. By the time I was done, the light, which lasted only minutes, was gone. I was left with he following large-format image:

I like this pair of images for the contrast between the cold and the warm, the intimate and the spectacular.

Pinnacles was one of the oldest national monuments in the nation, having been established in 1908 by none other than President Theodore Roosevelt using the power given him in the Antiquities Act of 1906. At that time, though, there were no drivable roads into the Monument, and in 1922, the superintendent of Yosemite National Park, after a quick survey visit, even recommended that the monument be abandoned. By the late 20th century, the value of the area had become clear. Only Congress can designate a national park, but many national parks began as national monuments designated by presidents.

I’ll dwell a bit of the history of the bill which re-designated Pinnacles into a National Park because it sheds some light on the workings of the US Congress. It is the brainchild of Democratic Congressman Sam Farr who represents California Central Coast (Carmel – CA-20) district – who had been working on this since since he was elected to Congress in 1994. Its main goal was in fact to boost tourism dollars to the local area, since National Parks draw more visitation than National Monuments. The legislation consists in essence of just designation changes: Pinnacles National Monument becomes Pinnacles National Park, Pinnacles Wilderness within becomes Hain Wilderness (after Schuler Hain, an early 20th century proponent of Pinnacles National Monument), and is expended by 3,000 acres using existing park land. You’d think that given that there are almost no costs, it wouldn’t that hard to pass.

However, first introduced in the House of Representatives in 2009, the bill got nowhere, dying inside a committee without getting to the floor for a vote. In 2011, Sam Farr tried again, with the help of a Republican ally (Jeff Denham CA-19) who co-sponsored the bill. This time with bipartisan support, the bill cleared up the House in July 31, 2012, but not before Sam Farr was forced in the House subcommittee to remove expansion of the Hain Wilderness within the park – that Congress was the 1st one not to designate any single additional acre of Wilderness. Senate was to vote quickly on the bill, but a senator put a “hold” on it using arcane rules, because of an unrelated dispute about public lands and fisheries in South-East Alaska from where the relevant senate committee chairwoman hails. Without action in the senate, when 2012 ends, the whole process would have had to be restarted again from the House. Eventually the Senate got their act together at the 11th hour, passing the bill on Dec 30, 2012.

I had visited Pinnacles National Monument in the year I arrived in California, 1993, for the same reason that initially drew me to Yosemite: rock climbing. I also occasionally returned to Pinnacles just for hiking. Although other areas have more resources, I am pleased with the recognition Pinnacles is getting. Only an hour and half away by road, Pinnacles is the closest national park to where I live. The park’s area is quite small. At 38.3 sq miles (99.2 sq km), it is one of our smallest National Parks. But as it is not crossed by a road, the park feels larger, since you have to explore it on foot. To my surprise, I found within the Pinnacles one of the steepest trails that I have ever hiked, kind of similar to Half-Dome, but with barbed wired to pull yourself up instead of cables. For 12 miles, I did not see a single soul. It remains to be seen how the re-designation will increase park visitation. I don’t expect the park do become crowded. However, as the trailhead parking for Bear Gulch, the most popular area in the park, is shockingly small, I could foresee a shuttle becoming mandatory on busy weekends in the spring.

Unlike parks like Yosemite, Pinnacles does not have icons, so the park rewards personal seeing. Only an hour and half away from the major metropolitan areas of the San Francisco Bay area, an isolated, wild, and quiet area where a variety of subjects awaits your exploration: spectacular rock formations, expansive vistas, rare talus caves, a beautiful and reflective body of water, an abundance of wildflowers in the spring, and dark skies. I’ll write in more detail about my findings in Pinnacles National Park at another times, but for now I’ll let the images speak for themselves. Please let me know if you have any favorites, and if you have any questions about locations, feel free to ask.

More images of Pinnacles National Park

Hawaii Volcanoes time-lapse video: notes and stills

Thanks to everybody for the interest in my newly released video, Hawaii Volcanoes, which was played more than 35,000 times on Vimeo in the first week. Although information about the scenes depicted is available elsewhere on the blog, I wrote this post to collect it in a single spot for the benefit of viewers. High-res stills from the video may be downloaded for personal use or posted (with link & credit) in write-ups about the video.

The rising sun colors the sky above the immense summit caldera of Mauna Loa, an active volcano, as evidenced by the fumaroles on the floor. Few get to see this scene: I did not meet a single person there for the entire day. Hiking Mauna Loa is an arduous 13 mile journey on mostly trail-less lava rocks during which I did not see a single plant. This could be another planet.

Next to the Kilauea caldera, fumaroles and endemic Ohia trees (see also next image) are backlit by the rising sun. The Hawaiian islands are further away from a major land mass than any other. Plants who managed to make the voyage to the once barren islands evolved into more specialized life forms. Over 80 percent of Hawaii’s native flora and fauna is found nowhere else in the world.

Kilauea is the world’s most active volcano, erupting continuously for thirty years. Halemaumau crater – home to Pele, Goddess of Hawaiian Volcanoes according to the traditions of Hawaiian mythology – is a pit crater within Kilauea caldera. During my two first visits there, a decade ago, I could walk to the edge of the crater, which is no longer possible because in 2008, a series of explosive eruptions awakened the Halemaumau crater, which now spews a dangerous sulfur dioxide plume day and night.

Lava flows several miles from the center of the eruption, and eventually meets the ocean, forming a acid gas plume when it contacts water. Unlike most, the lava from Hawaii volcanoes is very fluid, creating the rope-like patterns. As there is little danger of explosion, I could approach the 2000 Fahrenheit degrees lava to a few feet, until the heat became unbearable.

One of the most mesmerizing spectacles of nature you will witness is glowing lava cascading into the ocean to form new land in front of your eyes, which is instantly destroyed by the action of the ocean. I had to be careful not to stand on unstable lava cliffs, since they are known to collapse into the ocean without warning. More about photographing the lava ocean entry in Hawaii.

Most of the time, lava flows underneath the surface. The first time I returned at night, its glow through cracks startled me, since by day I had stepped onto the freshly hardened lava, unsuspecting that molten lava was flowing underfoot. In the background, lava cascading into the ocean illuminates the plume and land. After everybody had left, I stayed to record the pulse of the flow over an entire night.

At night, molten lava, forming a lake at shallow depth within the Halemaumau vent, create a spectacular incandescent illumination. The juxtaposition with the Milky Way shows creation through violent gases from two time eras, the distant past of the stars, and the present on earth. I captured it appearing in a weather break above by setting up my camera in driving rain, protecting it with an improvised cover so I could leave it all night.

At 10,500 feet, Haleakala is one of the world’s largest dormant volcanoes. As a tall peak on an island, its summit is often floating above clouds, on top of the inversion layer separating lower maritime air from upper atmospheric air. The sunrise from the top of the crater is considered by many to be the “most beautiful sunrise in the world”, prompting many to leave their resorts at 2am to witness it.

In an opening in clouds, the distinctive shield volcano shape of Mauna Loa on the Big Island is seen one island away from Haleakala on Maui. Mauna Loa’s very gently slopping 10000 cubic miles makes it the world’s most massive mountain. The world’s largest volcano, it rises just 13700 feet above sea level, but its 42000 feet below the sea make it the tallest mountain from base to summit.

Despite temperatures (in Hawaii !) that left my water bottle frozen solid in the morning, fierce winds, and altitude sickness, I camped on the 13700 feet Mauna Loa summit, above 600 feet vertical cliffs, so that I could capture an all-night time-lapse sequence, likely the first ever made in this place. More about Hiking Mauna Loa summit via Observatory Trail

Check out my extensive collection of images of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.

Making 1st time-lapse video: Hawaii Volcanoes

I have just released my first time-lapse short. Best viewed Full Screen with sound !

Hawaii Volcanoes from QT Luong on Vimeo.

I have actually been capturing time-lapse and video footage for several years now, so you may be wondering why this comes out only now. This blog post is a long answer to that question.

The nature of photography, which catches an instant in time, is such that a single photograph can communicate powerfully – even though well-sequenced projects go deeper. By contrast, video is intrinsically a story-telling medium. To tell a story, you need to put many shots together so that the end product is a film. Looking at the successful time-lapse film-makers on the internet, like TSO or Timescapes, I realized that they don’t upload many movies, just a few very good ones. I wanted my first completed video to be good. Did I achieve my goal ? I’ll let you judge.

This turned out to be an arduous journey which has taught me a new level of respect for film-makers. No wonder a film is almost always a team effort. It took me a while to learn the skills to put a short together. Although you use the same camera, shooting time-lapse, especially at night, is much more demanding than shooting stills, because everything has to work for the next few hours, as opposed to just for a few seconds. The careful planning, deliberate approach, time spent, cumbersome gear, and large amount of data captured (temporally instead of spatially) reminded me of large format photography. Changing light, such as night-to-day changes brings a new set of challenges, since you are trying to capture smoothly a transition that occurs over a range of over 20 f-stops.

Then, there is the post-production. Software such as Adobe Premiere Pro and After Effects make Photoshop look very simple. For many important functions, there are not even menu items available: you need to know the right keyboard shortcuts. Even finding the right music took a long time. I had to check out hundreds of tracks – you cannot evaluate them at a glimpse, like a photo editor does, you need to listen. Unless the music was composed for your movie, you need to do sound editing to synchronize it with the visuals. All those technical hurdles are secondary compared with the challenge of deciding what story to tell, and how.

The other thing that I didn’t have enough of was footage. The clips need to be compelling by themselves, but also fit in the puzzle of a larger story. On the other hand, it is easy to miss shooting something that you’ll need later if you don’t have the story planned in advance. Like many of my other pursuits, this one started in Yosemite. My first capture consisted of stars rotating in a perfect circle above the face of El Capitan. However, just like in photography, over the recent years existing Yosemite time-lapse work set the bar intimidatingly high.

I was eventually inspired by the volcanoes of Hawaii. In 2001, I “accidentally” captured a time-lapse in the process of photographing the Milky Way above the Halemaumau vent in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, after setting up the camera in the rain and leaving there all night. In Haleakala National Park, the clouds below were beautiful in stills, but I felt that their motion was even more mesmerizing. The volcanoes of Hawaii are the tallest mountains situated on an island, so the weather on mountain tops and flanks can be particularly dynamic. The landscape itself is one of the most dynamic on earth thanks to the flow of lava and the various volcanic steam sources. I thought that motion would be particularly well suited for showcasing the raw power of the eruption.

I noticed that although there is good lava footage available, there was no video that covered Hawaii Volcanoes National Park from sea to summit. This may be because filming requires backpacking on difficult volcanic terrain, including overnight stays near hot active lava flows as well as at the 13700 feet Mauna Loa summit in sub-freezing temperatures. During this winter’s trip to the park, I managed to capture enough footage in various areas to complete this first short, on which I have been working for the past few months.

Thanks for watching, and let me know how you like it.

Hiking Mauna Loa summit via Observatory Trail

Part 3 of 3: 1 | 2 | 3

As part of my sea-to-summit visit of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, after photographing the lava ocean entry and exploring around and above Kilauea, I hiked to the top of Mauna Loa, the world’s largest volcano. In this post, you will learn enough to plan your own trip there, or at least to know what you would see on this difficult, but exceptional and rewarding walk.

Why ?

Mauna Loa is the largest volcano in the world, spanning a maximum width of 75 mi (120 km), and making up more than half of the surface area of the island of Hawaii. If we consider its underwater part of 16,400 ft (5,000 m) to the sea floor in addition to its 13,680 ft (4,170 m) height, Mauna Loa rises 30,085 ft (9,170 m) from base to peak, more than the 29,029 ft (8,848 m) elevation of Mount Everest from sea level, and twice its elevation from base. The volume of Mauna Loa is approximately 10000 cubic miles, more than 100 times the size of a Cascade volcano such as Mt. St. Helens. Mauna Loa is an active volcano, which last erupted in 1984. Fumeroles can be seen in the summit caldera, most clearly at sunrise and sunset.

Mauna Loa is not to be confused with the other large volcano on Hawaii, Mauna Kea. Although Mauna Kea is slightly higher at 13,796 ft (4,205 m), its summit, home to a large complex of astronomical observatories, is easily accessible by a road and heavily visited. By contrast, you need to hike to the Mauna Loa summit. No matter which route is chosen, those are the most difficult trails in Hawaii. The quiet and solitude are exceptional. You are almost sure to stand by yourself on the top. For the two days I was on the mountain, I saw only one other party, and this was near the trailhead.

The hiking is an otherworldly journey. Hiking from the Mauna Loa observatory, for the whole length of the journey, I did not see a single plant, not even one of the pionnering ferns. This is like watching the bare bones of the earth. You could be on another planet. I expected the hike to be monotonous because it is all lava, but I was surprised by the variety of the lava landscape and the interesting variations in colors (reds, greens) and textures.

Mauna Loa looks unimpressive from a distance, because it is a shield volcano. Hawaii lava flows are particularly fluid, which allow them to travel farther than lava from more explosive volcanoes, resulting in accumulation of broad sheets of lava, building up the volcano in the form of a warrior’s shield with a slope of just 6%. However, the summit itself turned out not to be a flat expense. I knew that it was made of a huge caldera, but this didn’t prepare me for the experience of standing at the very edge of vertical cliffs six hundred feet tall, way above the spectacular caldera floor where ripples of hardened lava looked like waves in an ocean.

Choosing the route

To reach the summit, there are a number of trails, of which only two are traveled with any regularity, the Mauna Loa Trail, and the Observatory Trail. Both trails meet at a four-way junction situated near the North Pit (13019 ft), a secondary shallow caldera at the northern edge of the Mokuaweoweo summit caldera. The Mauna Loa Cabin (13250 ft) is situated on the East side of the summit caldera, 2.1 miles from the North Pit. The summit (13,680 ft) is situated on the opposite (West) side of the caldera, 2.5 miles from the North Pit.

The most popular route, the Mauna Loa trail, starts at the Mauna Overlook at the end of Mauna Loa road in Hawaii Volcanoes National park (6662 ft). The distance to the North Pit is 17 miles, so total round trip distance to the summit with a stay at the Mauna Loa Cabin is 44 miles, which take most hikers 4 days to complete. Fortunately, you do not have to carry a shelter (although a bivy bag can be useful in an emergency) nor all your water, since there are two first-come, first-serve cabins on the trail with water catchment reservoirs (boiling or filtration required), the Puu Ulaula Rest House (10035 ft) 7.5 miles from the trailhead, and the Mauna Loa Cabin previously mentioned.

The lesser-used Observatory trail starts at the Mauna Loa Observatory (11040 ft). From there, it is 3.8 miles to the North Pit. The round-trip distance to the summit is only 12.6 miles (add 4.2 miles if staying at the Mauna Loa Cabin) but the trail is steeper and more rough. It is possible to do it as a day trip (not a casual one !) but an overnight is preferable for most. Because of the high starting point, you do not get a chance to acclimatize progressively to altitude like on the Mauna Loa trail. I very rarely get altitude sickness, yet when sleeping at the Mauna Loa summit, I suffered a mild headache, despite spending the previous nights at Kilauea (4000 ft), Mauna Loa overlook (6660 ft), and the Mauna Loa Observatory (11040 ft) to which I had driven the night before starting the hike. It might have been worse – forcing me to descent prematurily – if I had not acclimatized before.

Because the Mauna Loa Cabin is situated opposite to the Summit across the caldera, many hikers who stay at the Mauna Loa cabin bypass the summit. Those who don’t get there at mid-day, since nobody really wants to hike the 4.6 miles from the Cabin to the Summit (count on 1 mile per hour at most) in the dark. I chose instead to bypass the Cabin, so that I could photograph from the Summit at sunrise, sunset, and during the night, although this would mean having to carry a tent, sleeping pad, extra water, and camping in cold and exposed conditions instead of taking advantage of the comfort and protection offered by the Cabin.

The Mauna Loa trail is said to be the more scenic of the two trails, however because of my limited time on the island, I chose to hike the Observatory trail. For a group, a good alternative would be to hike one-way using a shuttle. It takes about three hours to drive from the Mauna Loa Overlook to the Mauna Loa Observatory. Hawaii Outdoor Guides 888-886-7060 can organize a shuttle service for $100/person, with a minimum of $300.

Getting ready

The summit is situated above the usual inversion layer, which means that it is often dry and sunny there, even though at lower elevations (and in particular around Kilauea) it rains all day. I hiked down in clear weather, but then drove the Observatory road in wet conditions with no visibility. However, snow is possible at any time of the year. Hiking with snow on the ground is very tricky, as the trail would be very difficult to follow (likewise in bad weather) and the rocks slippery. During my previous visit to Hawaii, in May, a snowstorm prevented me from making the trip to Mauna Loa. I settled for a Mauna Kea visit, determined to return another time to attempt Mauna Kea.

The base of Mauna Loa is in the tropics, but in February the summit felt more like Alaska. I kept one of my water bottles inside my sleeping bag at night. The one left outside froze overnight. Although temperatures can be warmer in the summer, they still drop below freezing at night. The temperatures are compounded by high winds. On the second day, the wind howled all the way from the summit down to the trailhead. Even though I was moving most of the time, I had to wear my hat, fleece, top and bottom shell to stay warm.

I packed like I would for a winter mountaineering ascent. I carried the same sleeping bag that I used to climb Mt McKinley, because that is the only winter sleeping bag that I own. For my night on the summit, the -30F rated bag did not feel too warm used inside a one-person tent. Since I expected to be camping on lava rock where stakes would not penetrate, I rigged the tent’s anchoring points with long loops of string. In addition, I carried four quarts of water, since I didn’t go to the cabin. There are no reliable water sources ouside of the cabins, including at both trailheads. Since the air is so dry, drinking plenty, even in cold temperatures, is necessary to avoid altitude sickness. Sunscreen and lipbalm are also needed at that elevation. I normally backpack wearing trail running shoes, but for this hike, I wore lightweight hiking shoes and was glad for the additional support and protection. Because of the temperatures, hot meals and drinks are much appreciated. I found cartridges for my ultralight butane/propane stove at the ACE hardware store in Volcano near the Park entrance.

Overnight hiking requires a permit from the backcountry office of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. This improves your safety. The rangers provide information about the weather, cabins and cisterns water levels, and go through a checklist to make sure you are adequately experienced and equiped. Here is the official trail information, some contributed trip reports, and a most useful trail guide with landmark mileages.

Hiking the Observatory Trail

The road to the Mauna Loa Observatory is unmarked. Driving on the Saddle Road, I missed it at first. It branches out not too far from the Mauna Kea road, slightly East of it, at the base of a small volcanic cone. It took me 45 min to drive its 17 narrow and twisting miles. In the past it was marred by big potholes, but when I was there in Feb 2013, it had been recently resurfaced, so my rental minivan was totally adequate. The road ends at a gate – unlike for the Mauna Kea observatories, and there are no facilities. Just before the gate, there is an unpaved jeep road below, on the right. Unless you have an expedition-grade 4WD high clearance vehicle, this is where you park your car. After walking along that road for a third of a mile, you see a trail sign on your left. The trail is much shorter than the road because it cuts through switchbacks. I’ve read that driving the rocky jeep road can take more time than hiking.

For approximately two miles, the trail consists just of rock piles (cairns, locally called “Ahu”) marking an undistinct itinerary. I made sure to spot the next one before leaving the cairn where I was. On my way down from the summit, I found myself still on the trail, half a mile from the trailhead, after dark. I didn’t get lost (I used a GPS to mark waypoints on my way up), but it took me an unusually long time to finish the trail, because it is extremely difficult to spot lava rock cairns at night. Do not get caught on the trail after sunset unless you carry a search-grade flashlight (500+ lumens). It would also be difficult to see those cairns in a whiteout, which is why some recommend waiting them out instead of trying to hike – and carrying survival gear to handle being stranded overnight even if setting out for a day hike. The trail sections on aa lava have been flattened and worn out, so they are clearly easier to hike than the surrounding trail-less lava. When you are hiking on smoother pahoehoe lava, you may have the impression that hiking outside the trail wouldn’t make a difference. That would be a mistake, as you’d soon end up in rough aa lava flows, or get lost, as there are no distinctive terrain features to orient yourself. In 1981, a visitor who wandered off trail on Mauna Loa was never found despite a week of the most extensive search in the Park’s history.

For another third of a mile, the trail joins the road – which cannot not be driven past the National Park boundary, because of a very solidly locked gate. At that point, I followed a trail sign on the right, and for the next half mile, enjoyed the only well-defined portion of the trail, as it follows green olivine cinders bordered by a very dark lava flow. After crossing the jeep road a last time, and hiking another half-mile, I reached the junction with the Mauna Loa Trail (17 miles) , Summit Cabin trail (2.1 miles), and Mauna Loa Summit trail (2.5 miles). Next to the junction, there is a shelter built out of lava rock. Called Jaggar’s Pit – named after the volcanologist and founder of the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory, Thomas Jaggar who spent many nights there while watching eruptions – it is a mere hole in the ground enhanced by rock walls and stairs descending into the pit. On the second day of my hike, this was the only place where I was able to get some respite from the wind after leaving the summit.

The junction is almost at the edge of the summit caldera, which would be easy to access, as it is almost at the same level (13018 feet). The summit was visible in the distance, but those last 2.5 miles felt some of the longest I had ever hiked. I understood why getting to the summit of Mauna Loa is so tough: you are walking all the time on unstable lava rocks, at high altitude, and unlike when hiking other, steeper mountains, you are staying at high altitude for an extended time. When I reached the summit, marked by a huge cairn festooned with ritual offerings, since this was uncertain from the beginning, I was delighted to find an excellent camping spot surprisingly sheltered from the wind. Completing the 360 degrees view, an older volcano emerged from a sea of clouds on the West.

At this elevation’s dry atmosphere, the sky shined with exceptional clarity thanks to the lack of nearby light sources – the brightest of them being the glow of the Halemaumau vent faintly visible in the distance. After dark, only a few yards from the tent, I set-up a 24mm f/1.4 lens on the Canon 5D mk2 for an all-night time-lapse sequence which captured the shadow projected by the quarter moon moving across the immense caldera, likely the first ever made in this place. I woke up one hour before sunrise to monitor the camera and update settings as night turned into day. The spectacle of the changing light and color at sunrise mesmerized me. I felt so privileged to be able to witness those moments from this spot.

Since I had brought only one tripod, I had to wait for the light to brighten before I could use my other camera, a Canon 5D mk3, to make hand-held landscape photographs in the other direction, making good use of the stabilized 24-105mm f/4 lens to create images that I’ve never seen done before at sunrise. The 600 feet of elevation gain from the junction meant that I was standing 600 feet right above the caldera floor, giving me an entirely different perspective than from the junction over this spectacular feature of Hawaii that only few get to see.

More images of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park

Part 3 of 3: 1 | 2 | 3

Exploring around and above Kilauea in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park

Part 2 of 3 : 1 | 2 | 3

After photographing the lava ocean entry, my other main goal in this sea-to-summit trip was to hike to the top of Mauna Loa. Altitude sickness is a frequent problem for hikers going from low elevations to the summit – in Hawaii, most people stay close to the beach, which is sea level. In order to acclimatize a bit, I spent some time around and above the Kilauea area of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. Kilauea is at about 4000 feet elevation, where it can gets surprisingly cold and wet.

On my previous visit to the area, I had some success photographing the Halemaumau vent, so this time I focused on different areas of the Halemaumau crater. Shot backlit at sunrise, the otherwise ordinary-looking Steaming Bluff took an ethereal quality.

In rainy weather, one of my favorite spots in the park is the short hike to the Thurston Lava Tube. The Tube itself is not great to photograph, but on the way you’ll cross one of the lushest spot in the park, a wonderful rainforest with giant ferns towering above your head (great for close ups too).

The Kilauea Iki trail is one of my favorite trails on the entire Big Island. It is a moderate hike of about 3 miles with about 450 feet of elevation gain/loss which offers a great variety of terrain. It starts in the rain forest nearby the Thurston Lava Tube trail.

You go suddenly from the ancient forest to the newly created maw of the crater floor, where just a few plants cling to life. The contrast couldn’t be more dramatic.

The trail traverses the entire Kilauea Iki crater, which just a few decades ago was a lava lake, offering a close view of different types of lava formations.

It then takes you back through the forest, with some glimpses of the crater you’ve just hiked across. Because the crater is surrounded by a rain forest, weather can change very quickly there, turning from sunny to showers in an instant.

At the start of the Mauna Loa Road, The one-mile Kīpukapuaulu trail – another rainy day favorite – explores a hot spot of biological diversity, with more native tree species per acre than any other forest in the park.

The essence of this habitat is captured in its name kipuka (an island of ancient vegetation surrounded by a sea of younger lava flows), pua (flower), ulu (growing).

The underlying lava there is more than 8,000 year old, while the lava around the kipuka is much younger, at around 600 year old. More than 10 feet of soil has supported thousands of years of plant succession, resulting in huge, mature trees.

Mauna Loa Road, for the most part one-lane, winds up its way for 11 miles which can take up to 45min to drive. On the way, you can observe how the vegetation changes as you gain almost 2600 feet of elevation. In overcast or rainy conditions, the beautiful dryland forest is a great subject.

The terminus of the road is the Mauna Loa Overlook, from which you can look at the forest below, and in the distance, the Halemaumau crater and plume if the weather is clear. Notice how small it appears in the image above. Super-telephoto required for the image below ! The light there is best at sunrise, which was convenient for me to capture as I slept there to acclimatize.

The Mauna Loa Overlook is also the trailhead for the Mauna Loa trail, which leads to the summit of Mauna Loa, an adventure I’ll describe in great detail in the next post.

More images of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park

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Photographing the Lava Ocean Entry in Hawaii

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One of the most mesmerizing spectacles of nature you will witness is glowing lava cascading into the ocean to form new land in front of your eyes, as clouds of steam rise from the dynamic meeting of fire and water. This winter, I traveled to the one place where this wonder can be observed readily, the Big Island of Hawaii. In this post, illustrated with recent images, I’ll share what I have learned about visiting and photographing a lava ocean entry by land and boat. I’ll include a number of links to resources as well as detail my own experience.

When ?

With lava, timing is everything. Although Kilauea has been erupting continuously since 1983, most of the time the lava flows through underground lava tubes which enter the ocean underwater, so there is nothing to see. Visible lava ocean entries occur when the lava pour into the ocean above sea level, often flowing along a sea cliff. Even if most of the lava flows underground, there may be surface flows as well at the same spot, which offer photo opportunities very distinct from the ocean entry itself. Lava ocean entries are visible less than 25% of the time. They can last for a few weeks up to months. Smaller ocean entries are actually easier to photograph because the steam and smoke plume is also smaller. That plume is hazardous and can totally hide the lava flow. During the earlier days of an ocean entry, no significant lava bench is yet built up, which may make it possible to get closer (see below for an explanation). To keep up with the conditions, check the following updates:

During the day, molten lava can be visible to a close observer as red or yellow patches, but doesn’t appear much brighter than the rest of the land. Most of the time, it will have a grey/silvery color, slightly lighter than hardened lava. An overcast day helps there, as lava glows more in the dimmer light. Twilight and night are when molten lava comes alive, with an impressive glow which also lights up the steam and parts of the ocean and land.

The time around sunrise and sunset, extending to twilight is by far the best for photography. The ideal window is quite brief, so one should plan carefully. During that time, brightness differences between lava and land or sea are small enough that both can be properly exposed in a single exposure: there is enough ambiant light that you can see details in the landscape, but it is dark enough for the lava to glow. In my opinion, dawn is preferable to dusk for several reasons:

  • Arriving in the dark makes it easier to see where the lava flows are.
  • Flow areas can be very crowded at sunset if the hike is short. When I was there, there were more than a hundred visitors, which, besides degrading the experience, makes it difficult to work. By contrast, there were less than a dozen people at sunrise.
  • On that stretch of coast, the sun rises over the ocean, but sets over land.
  • Because of the direction of trade winds, you’ll most likely be standing East of the ocean entry, so the direction of light would be more favorable at dawn.

While the sight is most dramatic at night time, I was surprised at how difficult it was to photograph then. Because of the extreme difference of brightness between the flowing lava – which is the light source, the illuminated steam, and the land and sea, multiple exposures are needed (I had to bracket with a 4EV range). Those exposures are not easy to blend: since the steam is constantly shifting, you are not dealing with a static scene. A full moon usually isn’t great for night photography because resulting images look too much day-like, but because of the presence of the lava acting as light source, this is a situation where I think a full moon would work the best.

Where ?

Lava originate at Pu’u O’o vent on the east rift zone of Kilauea volcano. It can enter the ocean anywhere between the end of Chain of Craters Road in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park and the Kalapana Lava Viewing Area. It is about 7 miles from the end of Chain of Craters Road to the boundary of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, and 2 miles from the Kalapana Lava Viewing Area to the boundary of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park (map).

The National Park rangers will tell you how far it takes to hike to the lava flow from the end of Chain of Craters road. They are unlikely to tell you that a shorter hike may be possible from outside the park (that is Kalapana). If the ocean entry is more than 4.5 miles (one-way) from Chain of Craters Road, then it will be shorter from Kalapana. In 2013, the hike was 13 miles RT from the Chain of Craters Road, but only 4.5 miles RT from Kalapana.

Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is open 24 hours a day, and there are no restrictions on parking at the end of Chain of Craters road. On the Kalapana side, the state of Hawaii has set up a Lava Viewing Area at the end of Highway 130 in lower Puna. The free parking area, not always staffed, is open from 3PM to 9PM. The area so is named because at the time it was set-up, lava was flowing sufficiently close to it that you could see the glow from there. As of winter 2013, this is no longer the case. The problem on the Kalapana side is that you cannot park there for a pre-dawn session, and also you cannot linger at the flow too long after dark if you want to be back at 9PM. In addition, most of lands around the Lava Viewing Area are private – although sparsely populated, so crossing them towards the ocean entry may be trespassing if you go by yourself.

Getting ready

Because you are hiking on recently hardened lava, good walking/hiking boots are a must – it is better to wear boots that are stitched, not glued, since the heat of lava can melt and separate the soles. Long pants and gloves provide some protection in case of falls and also against the heat of hot lava flows. It can rain unpredictably there (makes for great rainbows), so light rain gear may be useful, although getting a bit wet in warm weather isn’t that big of a deal. What is sure is that the weather will be hot and humid regardless of season – not to mention the heat of the lava fields – so bring plenty of water. Despite looking black from a distance, fresh lava has a reflective silvery sheen, so don’t forget sunscreen. Because flashlights are a must in the dark, I recommend to take two, one as a back-up. The brighter the better, since lava is dark.

Although rarely needed, a respirator can be handy, particulary if you plan to stick around areas where you could be exposed to toxic gases. The gases are also bad for your eyes, but a half-mask is enough, maybe in conjuction with goggles if you have sensitive eyes. The volcano photographers I have talked to use a respirator designed for paints and chemicals – good against the hydrochloric acids present in the plume – available in hardware stores such as Home Depot or ACE (I carried this one from Walmart).

For photographing the cascades of lava pouring into the ocean, you will want a telephoto lens, since you won’t be able to get very close. A super tele (400mm or longer) is useful for close-up of spigots, while a short tele or normal lens frames the whole coastline. A wide-angle lens is mostly useful for photographing the surface flows rather than the ocean entries: you can get as close to those slow lava flows as you can bear the intense heat. Since the best photography is at twilight, you’ll need a tripod. Bring a good one, since it is often windy there, and you’ll be using telephotos.

The hike

Although the terrain looks flat, you’ll be hopping up and down due to irregular surface structure consisting of hardened lava rocks which are jagged, uneven and sharp. Unless hiking on trail where you place one feet in front of the other, you cannot get into a rhythm because you need constant concentration. This makes it more challenging than it looks from distance alone. Unless familiar with the terrain, you should count on hiking about one mile per hour, esp. by night. A huge steam and smoke flume forms where the lava flows into the ocean. It is simple enough to just walk towards this plume.

Once you get to the ocean entry, there are a number of potentially lethal hazards to be aware of. The most obvious, is that you may have to cross surface flows, walking directly above lava which is flowing under a thin crust of hardened lava (the outer shell of a lava tube). Even if you cannot see the glow by daylight, the intense heat will leave no doubt as to the nature of what lies underneath. As long as the hardened lava doesn’t crack when you step on it, you are probably safe. Lava hardens surprisingly fast: after just 10 minutes of cooling, one inch of crust can support the weight of a person. Besides, the molten lava within helps support the crust. The risk of falling through the crust is low, because the heat will keep you from crossing where it is too recent and hot. Crossing hot lava is actually more scary than dangerous. On the other hand, a cold, empty lava crust is more likely to collapse because it is not supported by molten rock.

Next, the plume contains sulphuric acid, hydrochloric acid, and all sorts of bad caustic stuff. The trade winds normally blow consistenly towards the southwest, so if you viewing from the other direction, you should be able to usually stay upwind of them. However, the winds can change, esp. if you get close to the ocean entry. When I was there, the guide showed me a viewpoint which he thought would be interesting, but said that he wouln’d walk here himself, since on that evening he did not have a respirator with him. Unless you have a respirator, you should always stay out of the steam (even with one, I’ve read it is bad for clothing and camera equipment).

The most dangerous and less obvious hazard are lava benches: that new land may collapse unpredictably off the coast in chunks the size of a football field, because it builds up so quickly that it fractures. If falling from that height together with tons of lava rocks into scalding water, your chances to survive are small. You should never step on a lava bench. In the National Park, benches are sometimes marked as closed areas, but don’t count on it. Lava benches are always the cliff lowest, and closest to the ocean. Older cliffs are higher, so in doubt do not go low. Someone familiar with the area will know which cliffs are lava benches because they are the most recently formed land, whereas the cliffs they’ve seen in previous visits are safe. You can sometimes feel the vibration of the waves on them. I’ve read a photographer giving the advice “if you hear a crack from under you, run”, but I doubt you’d always be able to run fast enough. The more established an ocean entry is, the fastest it will build a lava bench, whereas with a sporadic ocean entry, ocean action can destroy the new land as fast as it is created.

Detailed lava safety information:

Guide services

From the Chain of Crater Road, no guide services are available, since the National Park does not issue permits for guiding. If the ocean entry is close enough to the road, they may install trail markers and even send rangers there.

From Kalapana, there are no trail markers, so better knowledge of the terrain will save some effort since some parts of the hardened lava flow are easier to cross than others. If you are not familiar with the hazards mentioned above, a good guide may provide a safer experience. Last, but not least, guides have permission to cross private lands, and can provide a spot where to park your car outside of the Kalapana Viewing Area opening hours.

Not all guides are safe. In particular, some will take you on new lava benches, where you may get better pictures, but also die if the bench collapses. Here are a few guides recommended by other photographers:

If you want a photo tour, here are some local photographers who may help you. If anything, check out their incredible images (some of them involved significant risks) to see what’s possible !

The boat tour

Although working from the land will provide the best opportunities, in no small part because you can use a tripod and lower shutter speeds, a boat tour can provide you a different angle not available from the land. In particular, you are able to photograph lava flowing down cliffs that are difficult to see from the land, as well as reflections in the water. It is also a good solution for those who cannot or do not want to hike, although note that the ride can be pretty rough. When riding against the swell, the boat to rises up and then slaps the water at the back of the swells very hard, which is why the operators warm that the trip is unsuitable for people with neck/back/spine injuries. Also, there is no protection against rain and often huge waves in the open boat.

Because of high cliffs, the closest point where the boat can be put in the water is Isaac Hale Beach Park/Pohoiki Boat Harbor (13-101 Kalapana Kapoho Road Pahoa, Hawaii), a good distance from Kalapana. There is a campground right there, which is helpful since the sunrise tour starts at 5am. It takes about 50 minutes each way to ride from there to the National Park boundary, and the boat will hang out at the ocean entry for about 30 minutes. You are not allowed to walk around the boat. You must remain seated at all times, however the captain will frequently turn the boat around so each side get equal viewing time. Just like for the hike, a sunrise tour is preferable to a sunset tour. The main reason is that morning seas are calmer. Besides a smoother ride, calmer seas are much more favorable to photography: the boot moves less, letting you use longer shutter speeds and/or lower ISO. Not only longer lenses are practical, but also the captain can position the boat closer to shore. A calm water surface also let you capture beautiful reflections.

The sunrise and sunset tours are quite popular, so I’d advise to make reservations at least a week in advance, although it means taking your chances with the weather. Be sure to dress up very warmly, because once you get soaked (and if it rains or the sea is rough, you will, even with raingear), no matter what the air temperature is, you will not feel warm. I would also bring an extra jacket or cushion you could put between your back and the seat for absorbing the shock of the hard hitting of the ocean by the bottom of the boat. Some water protection for your camera equipment is very handy, as is an easily cleaned filter and water-absorbing cloth for wiping the lens or filter. Because you are shooting from a boat, fast medium tele lenses, such as a 70-200/2.8, with stabilization would be ideal.

Boat operators include:

The helicopter tour

This being Hawaii, land, sea and air tours are all available. During the day, helicopters constantly buzz above the ocean entry. I did not take an helicopter tour because I was skeptical that such a tour would yield good lava images. Although one of the operators (Paradise Helicopters) claims to be flying doors off close enough for you to feel the lava heat, at the ocean entry the helicopters hover quite far – I’ve been told because of a crash in the past. In addition, they are not allowed to take off before sunrise nor to land after sunset. Since then a photographer who took such a tour has confirmed this.

My experience

For the hike, I signed up with the friendly and laid-back David Ewing because (unlike others) he agreed to let me stay there for the night with my car parked at his home on the lava flows and come back by myself the next day. The hike was actually lead by his assistant Skylar, a very nice young man. Although the flow was only a 2 1/4 mile (each way) from David’s house, overnighting certainly beat spending only about an hour there, then hiking back in the dark, and forth again in the dark for dawn. I brought sleeping gear consisting of a thin sleeping bag, short foam mat, and one-person shelter (against wind and rain), a gallon of water, and some cold food. Although I wasn’t sure if this was going to be possible, I found a spot suitable for sleeping very close to the flow. Was it preferable to sleep, or be up all night – like the Man, Bryan Lowry, whom I had the pleasure to see in the morning ? I am not sure. By being up all night, one certainly could be alert for the best configurations since they change constantly. One could also scout more areas to be ready for a great sunrise. On the other hand, since this was the beginning of the trip, I was still feeling quite tired, and I thought that the best opportunities were at twilight anyways. My night was pretty short, and I cherished every minute of the time I spent with the flow, especially after the other visitors had departed, when the only sound I could hear besides the crashing waves was the crackling of the lava.

For the boat tour, I traveled with Lava Ocean Adventures. All the sunrise tours were sold out for 5 days. Although the booking was less than smooth, things got ironed out. A few reviewers have described them as unsafe for running tours in borderline conditions, but although I felt that the ride was uncomfortably bumpy, I never thought it was out of control. The passengers in front of me even seemed to enjoy it, hollering each time the front of the boat jumped 6 feet in the air. It was quite thrilling the first few times, when we were heading out in the dark, but on the return trip, jarred and soaking wet, I couldn’t wait to return to “port” – you actually get in and out of the boat through a ladder on the campground’s parking lot. When we got back, many people, who had already paid, were lining up for the next tour, but the captain cancelled it because of ocean conditions. During my tour, the conditions were awful for photography. The seas were so choppy and it was so dark (because of the rain clouds, no pre-dawn glow nor sunrise !) that I used mostly my 24-105. The boat was rocking so much that longer focal lengths were problematic. As it wasn’t raining when we departed, I forgot to pack my rain cover. It started to rain heavily at the ocean entry. My 100-400 got wet and unusable for the rest of the trip. I had to send it to CPS where they diagnosed it as “submerged in water” and charged hundreds dollars for repair. I am still glad to have taken the boat tour for the different perspective, interesting images that I managed to squeeze out (largely thanks to a new processing technique) and experience, but I am not sure I would repeat it when hiking offers such a rich and satisfying connection to the land.

More images of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park

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Oct 2013 Canyonlands Maze Backcountry Photo Tour with QT Luong

Imagine camping surrounded by a landscape of vividly colored hoodoos, lit by a crescent moon as the Milky Way appears, bright in a sky free of light pollution. This is your view as you enjoy a hearty dinner, cooked by our guides cowboy-style, as we sit nearly a hundred miles away from the closest paved road

During the day, we hike into maze-like canyons, rewarded for our efforts with some of the largest and most significant panels of rock art in America, twisted slots, and grandiose views that only few get to see. This is an awesome tour for the adventurous photographer in good shape, with endless possibilities for exploration into one of the most remote areas in the whole American West, the Maze District of Canyonlands National Park. We even have a great aerial photo opportunity when we take a scenic light in late afternoon light to return to Moab.

You will certainly not be fighting with other photographers for a sunrise spot, nor will you visit cliche scenes. National Geographic writes “The Maze can make parts of The Needles or Island in the Sky appear as civilized as Central Park … any visit should entail a serious amount of planning, gear, and fortitude”. Backpacker Magazine rated the Maze the riskiest of America’s 10 most dangerous hikes, but on this trip, everything will be taken care of. All you have to do is hike and photograph.

This is the only photo tour into the Maze, led jointly by a professional photographer (me), and local guides with decades of experience in this remote environment. They have all the difficult logistics, 4WD driving, and navigation drilled down so that we can concentrate on photography on our own schedule. I will be shooting next to you so that you can learn by example. I can offer tips and suggestions and will make sure we are at the best places for the best light.

Learn more about this unique photo tour: Canyonlands Maze Photo Tour.

Taroko Gorge National Park, Taiwan

While Sun Moon Lake is a scenic area with a fair amount of development, Taroko Gorge, Taiwan’s most well-known natural attraction, has been protected as a National Park since 1986.

The day before my visit, I traveled by rail to Hualien. From the station, I walked to the Amigos hotel, only to find out that it was closed for renovation. The owners referred me to a hotel on the same block, where I happened to be the only guest – the door was even locked when I arrived. Little did I imagine the hospitality. The host, although extremely friendly and eager to help, didn’t speak English. Fortunately his wife was Vietnamese. Although she was not home when I arrived, she served as an interpreter via phone. The host drove me around the city on the back of his motorbike to look for a vegetarian restaurant. This wasn’t successful, so upon returning, the wife fixed me a meal and declined any payment for it. They arranged a day trip to the Gorge by taxi for about $70, whereas the recommended price in the Lonely Planet was about $100. The driver turned out to be a woman, which is uncommon. She didn’t speak a single word of English, however she was also very nice. I realized she was an aboriginal native when at the end of the day she handed me a business card portraying her in a colorful traditional costume.

I started the day walking on a deserted azure beach. Seeing how mountains drop precipitously into the ocean, I understood why Taiwan’s East Coast is so scenic and undeveloped compared to the West Coast.

I was curious to see the local implementation of “America’s Best Idea”, so we stopped at a large visitor center, which looked familiar as I noticed a number of interpretative exhibits and an information desk where rangers provide information and bilingual free maps.

In keeping with Taiwan’s safety-conscious psyche, the park loans helmets to keep visitors safe from rockfall.

On the first stop, I hiked past the Eternal Shrine – dedicated to the 450 workers who lost their lives building the road, up onto a steep trail carved on the side of a cliff.

This led to a temple high above the valley with great views of the lush mountains above. Taroko’s natural beauty is complemented by a number of temples and shrines.

According to the map, Taroko Gorge has a large trail network, but because of my limited time, for the rest of the day I wouldn’t venture too far from the road.

To enjoy the narrowest part of the Gorge, you can simply walk on the side of the road, looking through the tunnel openings. Your driver waits for you at a parking area ahead.

The blue-green Liwu River has carved a narrow gorge in marble rock full of patterns, a unique sight.

The sections called “Tunnel of Nine Turns” and “Swallow Grotto” were particularly remarkable.

Having visited a sophisticated capital, an old city, a scenic area, my quick visit to the Taroko Gorge provided me with another glimpse of Taiwan’s natural beauty, hinting at its former name “Ihla Formosa”, the Beautiful Isle.

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