Photography in the White Mountains is nothing short of incredible. While it may lack the authority and prestige of places like Yellowstone, I have found it to be the perfect place to connect with nature, with one’s inner artist and with a child-like sense of adventure; all at once. As a life-long Granite Stater, my connection to White Mountains is stark, and my memory is filled with scenes of hiking through deep woods and scaling ledges of granite. As a photographer, I am quite fortunate to be engaged in the creation of an enhanced record of those memories. With regard those meaningful recollections, I’ve decided to start an annual tradition where I look back on the year in hiking and in photography.

First, a short compendium of the year. 2011 started off normally enough with deep cold (I was out in -22 in Jefferson one morning), but seemed to stray off course from the normal weather patterns as the year went on. By the end of the summer, we faced Tropical Storm Irene which devastated homes, business, and hiking trails. Irene also set the tone for one of the most peculiar fall foliage seasons in recent memory. Autumn never really seemed to find its rhythm in the valleys, and one had to travel to the brutal Alpine Tundras to find deep colour. Soon after, winter made cameo appearances the day before Halloween and the day before Thanksgiving, each time dumping well over a foot of snow in some areas. After that, winter never seemed to completely show up in normal fashion. 2011 ended much drier than anyone could have expected, and stick-season (a term we photographers use to refer to the in-between seasons) seemed to never go away.

Despite the challenges there were pockets of brilliance that I was fortunate to be witness to. To that end, I’ve picked my ten eleven best photographs from the year to share with you one last time as we say hello to 2012!

Winter's Dusk on Washington

Presidential Alpenglow

Chocorua Alpenglow

Cloudland: Before Irene

Pemigewassett Sunset

Glen Ellis Falls

Tuckerman Mystique

Ripley Falls

September Color and Clarity

Autumn at Thompson Falls

Franconia Ridge Autumnal Sunset

Beyond a doubt, in photography (as with other aspects of life) it is an important and useful exercise to reflect back every now and then. Picking the best landscape photographs from the past year’s collection helps photographers to allow for the necessary time to feel good about their efforts and their results. This can then help to establish a baseline for the new year, and for new goals. I look forward to sharing more images and experiences with you as we dive right in to 2012.

Take care.

At the stroke of midnight on January first, photographers and hikers alike found themselves visualizing their New Year commitments, resolutely along with millions of others. Most will resolve to lose weight or to quit a bad habit. Others will swear off the ritual all together, and truth be told this is the path I normally take. This year, however, after a lot of thought I’ve decided to join the masses and make a few resolutions related to my inner hiker and photographer. And since research tells us that one of the best ways to keep true a resolution is to share it with others, here my five commitments for 2012 in no particular order:

Hike More, Hike Better, Hike Different:

At the conclusion of 2011, I didn’t feel as though I hiked enough. But then again, I suppose I’ll never feel as though I’ve hiked enough. So plain and simple, I need to hike more. Likewise, I was a tad slower this year than I have been in years past. Hiking less meant that I filled my time with other activities that are less physical in nature than hiking, so I lost a little bit of the pep in my step. So I feel I could stand to hike a little better. I also found myself visiting a lot of “old friends”, as I call them; places that I’ve to been many times before but find myself returning to for their photographic appeal and epic mountain character. While this is not a foul by any means, it is a boundary that could hold my horizons static, and stifle my exploration of new and enchanting places. As I often tell people, New Hampshire is full of surprises and places worth discovering firsthand. This year, I plan to adopt a Red-Liner’s Philosophy to hiking, meaning that I’ll open up to exploring every mile of every trail without exception. More, better, different.

Study and Read the Work of More Photographers & Writers:

Although I thrive behind the camera, I simply haven’t taken enough time to study the work of other artists. Along those same lines, I write avidly and intently, but I would not consider myself well read. By and large, I am an evolving artist like all other artists, and studying the work of others is a fantastic way to grow one’s own craft. There is an expanding body of knowledge out there for me, and with the ubiquity technology it’s right at my fingertips. I’m starting to crave it, and this year I will seek it out.

Add More Human Elements to My Photographs:

Very few of my photographs include humans, which is not necessarily a bad thing. New Hampshire’s landscapes can do a lot of the speaking for themselves in a photograph. However, some photographs lend themselves well to having human guests. Whether it is to show movement, struggle, or scale, the human element could bare to find its way into a few more of my photographs. I plan to do this more throughout the year.

The Human Element at Bondcliff

Experiment With Abstracts:

Otherwise known as painting with the camera, there are delightful ways to create photographs that resemble abstract works. This is done by finding very small subject matter that appear painterly when shot with a macro lens. Abstracts can also be created by moving the camera, finding subjects in motion, and playing with the shutter speed. Each of the four seasons presents opportunities for abstracts, and I’m making it a point to look more closely for those chances.

Complete the Presidential Traverse in One Day:

This one speaks mostly for itself, and requires very little explanation. I bagged the Pemi Loop in 2010, and it’s time for another Death March. The Presi Travers, as it’s known colloquially, consists of over 25 miles of one way hiking that brings travelers over each of the mountains in the Presidential Range. In one day. It’s a grueling trek, and one that can be quite dangerous in the winter. My plan is to aim for a winter pass, and if I can’t do it by the last day of winter in 2012, I’ll shoot for the first days in December later in the year. By and large, the Mountains make the call on whether or not the Presi Traverse is a success, so one must be utterly cautious with such a goal.

Mount Washington and the Southern Presidentials

Hopefully you’ve made a few resolutions connected to the things that are important in your life. And if you haven’t, perhaps you’ve found this list useful or motivating. No matter what, remember to stay well and take full advantage of all the natural magnificence that New Hampshire has to offer. Take care, and thanks for stopping by my New Hampshire landscape photography and hiking blog!

Here’s to all of you, who have taken the time to connect with New Hampshire’s landscape, and with me, throughout the year.

I wish you all a joyful season filled with laughter, friends, adventure, and all the makings of great memories.

Take care and be well!

In the nighttime hours, particularly under clear skies and after a freshly fallen snow, the world is changed. The stars and the moon light up the edges of everything covered in virgin snow, drawing attention to details once unseen.

This was most certainly the case while driving Route 16 and while along the trail for my annual Harvest Day hike in Jackson this morning. I was captivated by the glistening world, and intrigued by some of the changes. In Albany, a young lady on one of the giant billboards was transformed from a trendy model peddling a stylish scarf and hat set into a sinister and ominous looking character. Her mascara made her look more dead than alive, and she appeared almost criminal. Along the Doublehead Trail, while cutting a fresh snowshoe path in almost two feet of powder, the individual airborne flecks of ice and snow sparkled like tiny gems by the light of my headlamp. On top of North Doublehead, the transition from light to dark at sunrise today was an definitive sort of example of the difference between twilight and daytime; there was a nearly distinctive line drawn directly on the skyline separating the red and purple of day from dark blue and grey of night.

Early Sunrise View of Mount Washington

North Doublehead View of Mount Washington

Today, on Thanksgiving, I am thankful for many things. Among them, I am thankful for light. Not only for light itself, but for its uncanny and magical behavior. It’s mornings like this which reaffirm for me that darkness often isn’t as much a cloak as it is a veil. Rarely is darkness a pure absence of light, and thus it makes an already beautiful world all the more interesting; and when it gives way to light, all the more photograph-worthy.

Doublehead Cabin

Thanks for stopping by to visit me here on Thanksgiving day at my New Hampshire Landscape Photography blog; I’ll see you again soon!