Dave Gordon : Traveling Photographs

For those using the Golden Gate Bridge, not a bad sunset for the evening commute home! A landscape photo of a truly majestic, beautiful sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge with the fog beginning to roll in and engulf the city of San Francisco. This photograph almost didn't come to exist. I was sitting at home, when I started to notice the sky changing colors into what I was hoping would be a spectacular sunset. I grabbed my camera, my wife and our dog and rushed out the door. Fortunately we live less than 2 miles from the Golden Gate Bridge and as we approached, the sky began to bloom into the brilliant colors captured here. I literally sprinted to the top of the Marin Headlands, dropped to my knee, steadied the camera, and grabbed this photograph. Out of breath but quite relieved at the results.

I will be the first to say, I really despise waking up to shoot sunrise, especially in the summer when the sun is brutally early, but once up and moving, I've never regretted the choice.

Captured this sunrise from Jackson, WY looking west towards the Grand Teton. The reflection is on a tributary from the Snake River which winds its way through the valley beneath the mountains known more famously as Jackson Hole.

Arrival. From a few years ago, lost and found recently. The fog was coming in heavy, shaking my tripod, and I took this photo handheld. A technical point, that at sunset, I would probably not do today. It was freeing to shoot naive, to not overthink it. To not be limited creatively because you're focusing on the technicalities.

Tucked in the middle of the Canadian Rockies is a small glacial fed lake frozen most months of the year. During the summer thaw, the lake has a beautiful turquoise color to it from glacial soot, the origin of its namesake 'Emerald Lake.'

The lake's real beauty is to catch the mirror reflections just after sunrise but before the sun lights the glacial soot, transitioning the scene green. You can see in this photo where the sun has broken through the mountains, there's a pool of turquoise that formed and will expand over the next hour until the mirror effect is gone for the day.

What attracts me to this photo is the fragility of the color in reference to time. This vibrant burst lasted less than two minutes before the sun dipped further, the color casted on the water and rocks faded, and the scene transformed into night.

Wake up San Francisco! Spent the morning watching the dawn colors paint the famous San Francisco Victorian row houses: 'The Painted Ladies.' A pleasant way to start the day. 

As quickly as they came, the storm clouds receded, lifting us from the dark, cold rains. Scars still wet, we cautiously ventured onto this new path, hopeful we find our peace.

Taken from atop Mt Tam in Marin County, just north of San Francisco at sunset, overlooking the famous Stinson Beach, Bolinas, and Point Reyes National Seashore.

Quintessential Mt Tam summer sunset, captured July 2016. Was lost, deep in the caverns of my photo library until recently. I stumbled upon it trying to find a fresh print for a friend. I think it aged well.

With colors so vibrant you could almost hear Mother Nature's masterpiece as it electrified all senses.

If you are lost, wake up early, watch a beautiful sunrise, let the beacon of light guide you back.

I've been in motion for so long, I forgot what had initially scared me, whom I was actually fleeing from. And I found myself alone, along this San Francisco beach, when the wind whispered, turn around. I stopped running, looked behind me, and found this scene.

We spent the day exploring Yosemite Valley and as as the sun headed for the horizon, we found a quiet spot, away from the masses to watch the fire fall from Horsetail Falls. A spectacular site that was more pronounced this year with all the rain. 

From a beautiful sunset along the California coast. 

From a truly magical sunrise in the summer of 2016 where we were surrounded by low fog, high beautiful sunrise clouds, and a few hundred Bay Area photographers.

The lone tree in Wanaka New Zealand. Some think this tree reminds them of the struggles, against the wind, perseverance, survival. To me, this tree isn't just surviving, its thriving. Broke free from the pack, a trailblazer on a path of its own, against the current, standing strong with the reward of this mountain lake sunset to lull it to sleep nightly. Dare to be different. Dare to stand out. Dare to travel against the grain. 

This is my favorite place to be. As an urban landscape photographer, having the proximity to quickly drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and capture the infamous San Francisco fog as it begins its march across the Bay is a privilege I don't take for granted. This photo was captured on an early morning. I hiked to one of the local peaks in the San Francisco Bay Area, just north of the City in the Marin Headlands. As the sun began to rise, the fog transformed into a beautiful flowing river of clouds. With a long exposure filter on my camera's lens, I shot this photo, trying to depict the relationship the Golden Gate Bridge has with the fog as it dances and swirls about.

Its easy to be negative, critical, destructive. The challenge is buiilding up rather than destroying. A new month, a new season, stay positive, enjoy the scenery.

Stand on the shoulders of giants

As seen in the 2016 National Geographic book titled 'Greatest Landscapes'.

For those using the Golden Gate Bridge, not a bad sunset for the evening commute home! A landscape photo of a truly majestic, beautiful sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge with the fog beginning to roll in and engulf the city of San Francisco. This photograph almost didn't come to exist. I was sitting at home, when I started to notice the sky changing colors into what I was hoping would be a spectacular sunset. I grabbed my camera, my wife and our dog and rushed out the door. Fortunately we live less than 2 miles from the Golden Gate Bridge and as we approached, the sky began to bloom into the brilliant colors captured here. I literally sprinted to the top of the Marin Headlands, dropped to my knee, steadied the camera, and grabbed this photograph. Out of breath but quite relieved at the results.

Arrival. From a few years ago, lost and found recently. The fog was coming in heavy, shaking my tripod, and I took this photo handheld. A technical point, that at sunset, I would probably not do today. It was freeing to shoot naive, to not overthink it. To not be limited creatively because you're focusing on the technicalities.

Caught this surf pack taking advantage of the giant swells in San Francisco recently by catching some waves under the Golden Gate Bridge.

This is my favorite place to be. As an urban landscape photographer, having the proximity to quickly drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and capture the infamous San Francisco fog as it begins its march across the Bay is a privilege I don't take for granted. This photo was captured on an early morning. I hiked to one of the local peaks in the San Francisco Bay Area, just north of the City in the Marin Headlands. As the sun began to rise, the fog transformed into a beautiful flowing river of clouds. With a long exposure filter on my camera's lens, I shot this photo, trying to depict the relationship the Golden Gate Bridge has with the fog as it dances and swirls about.

Some days you travel down the road, no destination in sight, emotions still raw, you stumble on something beautiful. Just beyond your grasps, into the mist.

From the Marin Headlands, the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge has an unfavorable angle for photographing sunset relative to the location of the setting sun and the city. Therefore the deepest parts of the burning sky are usually behind you if you're trying to capture a San Francisco city and Golden Gate Bridge photograph. However on this day, the fog was rolling in from the Pacific and the last light lit up the north tower of the bridge, while subtle sunset changes in the clouds offered a beautiful and unexpected photo.  

As seen in the National Geographic book titled 'Greatest Landscapes'. 

Although the sun rises every morning, it doesn't look like this but a few times a year. I had a lot of photographers ask me how I knew it was going to be beautiful this morning. The truth is, I didn't. I took an educated guess, but in reality I've been skunked by the fog more times than I can count. But if you don't keep waking up, trying and failing, you're never going to catch the low fog or whatever other adventures await you. Carpe Diem.

In the background of the photograph you can see that Coit Tower, a San Francisco landmark is illuminated orange to celebrate the San Francisco Giants, local baseball team making it to the World Series. Hence the title, Orange October. 

From a truly magical sunrise in the summer of 2016 where we were surrounded by low fog, high beautiful sunrise clouds, and a few hundred Bay Area photographers.

We watched the bridge we all know so well begin to glow, challenging the night's shadows as the last of the clouds reluctantly let go of their fading color which they had been clutching ever so tightly, grabbing just a few seconds more of the warmth, before it finally slipped away.

If you are lost, wake up early, watch a beautiful sunrise, let the beacon of light guide you back.

I've been in motion for so long, I forgot what had initially scared me, whom I was actually fleeing from. And I found myself alone, along this San Francisco beach, when the wind whispered, turn around. I stopped running, looked behind me, and found this scene.

Stand on the shoulders of giants. 

The San Francisco fog can be quite elusive and when I hear the foghorn sounding alarm, even if its late at night, I'll usually try and scurry up to the Marin Headlands to capture a few photographs. This scene was early in the morning with heavy traffic coming into and out of the city of San Francisco. Because the ambient light was so low, a long exposure made it easy to capture the fast changing landscape. This allowed for both the colors from the fog and the traffic headlights to blur into a seamless object, creating the illusion of movement. 

Been quite a bit since I worked on some new photography, enveloped in the daily ups and downs of my world, the arts got shelved for a while. Scrolling through my archives a few weeks ago I stumbled on this one from 2014. Now revamped, reprocessed, the creative part of my personality awakened, as a favorite shirt you forgot about, only to be liberated from the back of the closet.

For me, this looks like the entrance to heaven, a gateway between our world and the next. Just the tips of the Golden Gate Bridge peeking through the thick low fog layer. There are very few man made objects that blend so seamlessly into their surroundings. This is an illustration of how the Golden Gate Bridge enhances its natural vista.

I captured this photo during a spectacularly beautiful sunset over Labor Day weekend. It is so rare to have high clouds that produce color and low fog that slides under the Golden Gate Bridge during sunset in San Francisco. I've been photographing San Francisco for a few years and this is the only time I can remember such a profound weather occurrence. Perfect for urban photography.  

Sometimes I feel like the North Tower, breaking through the fog, embracing the day, taking a stance. Other times, I'm comfortable as the South Tower, letting the fog roll over me, going with the flow while keeping my head down.

There's nothing like a San Francisco Sunday morning hike in the Marin Headlands with Luna, my yellow lab. We caught some beautiful, low fog over the Golden Gate Bridge, meet a few fellow photographers and embraced the calm to start the week.

In the winter, as the angle of the sun lies lower on the horizon, the sunset colors can be long, glowing and vibrant. In the summer, these colors don't exist with such powerful luminescence. A beauty produced by the angle of the light as it refracts across our atmosphere. A kind treat from Mother Nature to warm the soul during the coldest of the winter months.

Had a brief break in between stretches of work. Was able to catch both sunrise and sunset yesterday. This is from the latter. 

I'm not sure how many turns the road took to lead me to this point. But there I sat amongst the crashing waves, on the beach directly underneath the Golden Gate Bridge, watching a spectacular sunrise, amonst some of the premier Bay Area photographers. I stopped shooting for a second, enjoyed the colorful dawn for myself, smiling. I'm not big in quoting lyrics but all I could think of is 'What a long, strange trip its been.'

What attracts me to this photo is the fragility of the color in reference to time. This vibrant burst lasted less than two minutes before the sun dipped further, the color casted on the water and rocks faded, and the scene transformed into night.

With colors so vibrant you could almost hear Mother Nature's masterpiece as it electrified all senses.

It is easy to be negative, critical, destructive. The challenge is building up rather than destroying. A new month, a new season, stay positive, enjoy the scenery.

The river turns and twists before it returns to the Ocean. At the end of its journey is where we met, with the setting sun guiding the path.

Scraping your knees as a kid was a lot easier than healing the bruises of an adult. Caught this light a few weeks back. Mother Nature there to provide food for the soul.

This photo is dedicated to my muse, my wife, on her birthday. The sun, my world spins around.

There will always be beauty in the world

I enjoyed just sitting and watching the waves come in and melt away. It reminded me of this year. A massive amount of emotional energy was spent just to keep my head above the rising tide. But in the end, it washes clean as the year comes to a close. Fades away with the surf, no footprints left behind, no scars too deep. A new dawn brings the New Year. A clean slate. Time to write this year's story. 

New year, new resolution. This year's photography will be an exploration. Whether in the field, or post-processing, the finished work will be a contrast to previous. Each stretching my creative horizon, because being creative is being ok making mistakes and eventually growing from them.

I will be the first to say, I really despise waking up to shoot sunrise, especially in the summer when the sun is brutally early, but once up and moving, I've never regretted the choice.

Captured this sunrise from Jackson, WY looking west towards the Grand Teton. The reflection is on a tributary from the Snake River which winds its way through the valley beneath the mountains known more famously as Jackson Hole.

Tucked in the middle of the Canadian Rockies is a small glacial fed lake frozen most months of the year. During the summer thaw, the lake has a beautiful turquoise color to it from glacial soot, the origin of its namesake 'Emerald Lake.'

The lake's real beauty is to catch the mirror reflections just after sunrise but before the sun lights the glacial soot, transitioning the scene green. You can see in this photo where the sun has broken through the mountains, there's a pool of turquoise that formed and will expand over the next hour until the mirror effect is gone for the day.

Quintessential Mt Tam summer sunset, captured July 2016. Was lost, deep in the caverns of my photo library until recently. I stumbled upon it trying to find a fresh print for a friend. I think it aged well.

The lone tree in Wanaka New Zealand. Some think this tree reminds them of their struggles, against the wind, perseverance, survival. To me, this tree isn't just surviving, it's thriving. Broke free from the pack, a trailblazer on a path of its own, against the current standing strong with their reward of this mountain lake sunset to lull it to sleep nightly. Dare to be different. Dare to standout.

As quickly as they came, the storm clouds receded, lifting us from the dark, cold rains. Scars still wet, we cautiously ventured onto this new path, hopeful we find our peace.

Taken from atop Mt Tam in Marin County, just north of San Francisco at sunset, overlooking the famous Stinson Beach, Bolinas, and Point Reyes National Seashore.

Mother's Touch. Yosemite in the spring is nothing short of magical. Captured this photo at sunset with the Yosemite mountains blocking the setting sun and only the distant Half Dome capturing the fading light on its famous peak.

A re-processed photo originally from 2014. Over the past few years my photo processing has slowly evolved into a 'Less is More' style. Focusing on micro adjustments instead of macro, becoming more comfortable with Photoshop, using less Lightroom, and really trying to stick to the original colors as the scene presented them.

Get out and explore, there's adventure around every corner, even if its just in your own backyard.

The fading light dances along the rolling peaks. Free just for a brief, ever changing moment, before the sun is pulled below the horizon, extending the shadows, extinguishing their song for the evening.

We spent the day exploring Yosemite Valley and as the sun headed for the horizon, we found a quiet spot, away from the masses, to watch the fire fall from Horsetail falls. A spectacular site that was more pronounced this year with all the rain. 

To be above the clouds as they roll over the landscape, watching cool fog paint the treetops, while the last of the angst from the workday fades below the horizon with the sun. Return to simple. The fog in San Francisco can be pretty encompassing. The summer is called our winter, it's cold, drizzly, and grey. Unless of course you go to the tallest peaks in the Bay Area and get above the fog layer. Up there, it's just beautiful.

To photograph this scene, much like all of photography, took time and patience. The fog does not always line up where your composition is and you have to be willing to either adapt to the weather pattern, or wait for it to come to you. This sunset photo was captured with a long exposure effect to show the fog smoothness

Emerald Lake Lodge, nestled deep in the Yoho National Park, one of those rare, special places I felt I could be content staying forever.

A little abstract for me but sometimes it's not about the vast landscapes or apocalyptic skies. Beauty can be found right in front of you if you open your eyes.

Sydney Australia treated us well on our vacation to the Southern Hemisphere. This view of two of Sydney's iconic landmarks is taken from Mrs. Macquarie's Point which has the vantage point of both the Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbor Bridge. The bright lights on the top, left side of the bridge are the headlamps from a Walk the Bridge tour group.

Despite how busy the day gets, there's always something magical about taking a few minutes to watch the sun rise.

San Francisco skyline during the Superbowl season taken from the Russian Hill neighborhood. The Embarcadero buildings fashioning their winter lights, adding to the already beautiful San Francisco city view.

On our last sunrise before we left to the airport to return to the States, this is how Sydney said goodbye. 

They always say to lead with your best foot forward. I don't know if this was my best foot from our Aussie/NZ trip, but it was the best light for sure. This required very minimal editing, other than lightening a little and making sure the horizon was straight. The color actually had to be desaturated because I didn't think anyone would believe the sky could be that brilliant. Maybe it's a southern hemisphere thing.

The famous Lombard Street in San Francisco has the most hair pinned turns of any road in the Bay Area. Crooked Lombard Street in San Francisco at night. My favorite part of this photo is that you can see the transition from headlights to brake lights all the way down the hill as the car twisted and turned. I also love the subtle reflection of the streaking lights in the house's front window. It was one of those photographs that as soon as the shutter closed, I knew I had something special. It is very busy but at the same time the colors are very simple. Kind of a paradox, much like how this road even can exist.

I was in Seattle for Thanksgiving this past year and had a break in the family action to sneak away to this spot, Kerry Park and try and capture sunset. However I wasn't the only photographer escaping the family events and I was completely surrounded by tripods. It was cold for Seattle, low 20s f and my tripod decided that would be a good time to malfunction. Frustrated with the crowds, my equipment and having lost blue hour sunset, I left feeling quite defeated. The next morning, I set my alarm early, drove back to this locale and found myself alone, still cold but without the crowds to witness this Seattle sunrise. Just me and the Emerald City waking up on this low fog, chilly morning.