Along Sourdough Trail

It has snowed two or three days in a row. I didn’t have long, but wanted to see how the Trail was doing.

The spot shown above, like those in the Revisiting post, is in a previously photographed stretch (see winter image below). I didn’t want to do the same view, partly because it tended toward cliché to begin with, and partly because a large expanse of plain gray path seemed unattractive.

Should aesthetics govern in such a thing? Well, if not, I wouldn’t be photographing at all. It’s almost painful to make a photograph I don’t care about in that way. Some aesthetic consideration, however idiosyncratic, seems a necessary gesture of respect to both place and myself. But perhaps a little path would be permissible…

This short section (five yards? ten?) reminds me of bamboo groves in Japan. It’s a similarity that at the same time reinforces the differences: of leaf, of bark, of girth, of straightness, of darkness of trunk. By knowing another place, I know this place better. Contrast is fundamental.

I have now a three-year history with Sourdough Trail. I know it far better than the back of my hand, which I couldn’t begin to describe with its veins, scars, spots, etc. Not that I’ve made any attempt to learn the place by heart. In my wanderings, I’ve simply come to know quite a few of the trees and other things. I’m content to let the serendipity of experience and the filter of the unconscious determine what I can remember.

I made a photograph earlier this week of a scene I usually notice as I walk past. I first saw to photograph it half a year into the project, when I was taken by a last pair of leaves hanging there, arrested in their fall by a twig that carried them well into winter.

Two months later I found myself captivated by some squiggling branches against dark, majestic trunks, but I didn’t realize until later that this was the same spot, and my enduring pair had finally been blown from their perch.

Below is a different pair I first saw one late fall, their smooth bark and muscular attitude standing in strong contrast to the surrounding wrack. Afterwards, I lost track of where they were and didn’t manage to find them for a long time. Even now I sometimes miss them if I forget to watch closely at the right point. Despite their appeal, I continued to pass them by photographically, until a day or two ago.

As you can see, they are doing quite well, and will likely be photo fodder for years to come.

These and other repeat subjects might serve as touchstones in assessing changes in both the place and my photography. One of my goals for this coming year is to consider that evolution.