Michael Frye Photography

High Sierra Light

Michael Frye — Sun, 23 Aug 2026 21:43:01 +0000

Tree and boulders along a lakeshore, Yosemite NP, California

I’ve always loved the clean, crisp, pine-scented air in the Sierra high country. The thin air at those high elevations intensifies the temperature differences between sun and shade. You can be sweating in the sun one minute, then shivering in the shade the next. And the light has more contrast too. The thicker atmosphere at low elevations tends to be hazy, scattering light and softening contrast. The thinner air at high elevations has less of that scattering effect, making the edges between sun and shade sharper and more distinct. The light seems more intense, more vivid.

That intense light becomes even more striking when contrasted with clouds. Which means, of course, that I gravitate toward the high country when summertime monsoonal moisture pushes up from Mexico, spawning clouds, showers, and thunderstorms.

This summer has been pretty typical, with occasional periods of monsoonal moisture, and we’ve tried to take advantage of whatever weather has come this way. The accompanying photographs from the Yosemite high country were made over the course of the entire summer, and most of these images include clouds, or reflections of clouds, made during those stretches of showery weather (though a couple were made on sunny, cloudless days, and feature reflections of sunlit rocks).

In my last post I talked about balance in compositions. Balance is all about visual weight. Not the actual physical weight of an object in a photo, but how much that object draws the eye. If the visual weight is equal on the left and right sides of an image, and the top and bottom as well, then the photo will feel balanced.

Knowing what draws the viewer’s eye is essential to every aspect of composition – not just balance. You want to visually direct viewers to the places you’d like them to notice, and away from spots that aren’t as interesting or essential to what you’re trying to convey. And you can’t do that unless you know what’s likely to catch their attention.

As you look at the accompanying photos (or any photos), notice what draws your eye. Go ahead – I’ll wait.

Okay, what did you notice? I think there are three things that consistently draw the eye: bright areas, strong colors (especially warm colors), and contrast.

It should be no surprise that bright spots command attention, as our eyes are naturally drawn to bright areas in a photo. But dark spots can also be eye-catching – if they contrast with brighter surroundings. In the photograph at the top of this post, for example, the small tree is probably the most eye-catching thing in the frame, but it’s also the darkest thing in the photograph. It stands out because its dark shape contrasts with lighter surroundings.

In the first photo below, on the other hand, the most attention-grabbing area is undoubtedly the bright, colorful patch of clouds just left of center (and the reflections of those clouds). That’s the brightest part of the image, and also has strong, warm colors – a double whammy.

Of course photographs often have more than one visual focal point, and can include any of those things – an eye-catching bright spot, warm colors, or a dark object that contrasts with lighter surroundings. Some of the photographs here have all three.

Light and composition go together. Light determines where those bright spots are, or where you’ll find warm colors, or when dark objects will contrast with lighter surroundings. You can’t control the light in most outdoor situations, but you can try to anticipate it, and adapt to it.

And you can completely control how you compose a photograph. By understanding what draws the eye, you can use the light to your advantage, rather than fighting it. Find ways to arrange bright spots, warm colors, and contrasting dark areas so that viewers are drawn to things you want them to look at – things that help convey the message you want to convey – and away from areas that don’t contribute to that message. And try to keep the visual weight of those eye-catching spots in balance, both left-to-right and top-to-bottom.

— Michael Frye

Pond and mist at sunrise, Yosemite NP, California

Pond and reflections at sunrise, Yosemite NP, California

Rocks, grasses, and reflections in a high-country tarn, Yosemite NP, California

Creek running over polished granite slabs, Yosemite NP, California

Dappled light and granite domes, Yosemite NP, California

Double rainbow over an alpine lake, Yosemite NP, California

Clouds and reflections over an alpine lake, Yosemite NP, California

Pond and reflections in the Yosemite high country, Yosemite NP, California

Dome reflected in a pond at sunset, Yosemite NP, California

Michael Frye is a professional photographer specializing in landscapes and nature. He lives near Yosemite National Park in California, but travels extensively to photograph natural landscapes in the American West and throughout the world.

Michael uses light, weather, and design to make photographs that capture the mood of the landscape, and convey the beauty, power, and mystery of nature. His work has received numerous awards, including the North American Nature Photography Association’s 2023 award for Fine Art in Nature Photography. Michael’s photographs have appeared in publications around the world, and he’s the author and/or principal photographer of several books, including Digital Landscape Photography: In the Footsteps of Ansel Adams and the Great Masters, and The Photographer’s Guide to Yosemite.

Michael loves to share his knowledge of photography through articles, books, workshops, online courses, and his blog. He’s taught over 200 workshops focused on landscape photography, night photography, digital image processing, and printing.

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Finding Balance Among the Wildflowers

Michael Frye — Sun, 16 Aug 2026 22:05:56 +0000

Wildflowers in the Yosemite high country, Yosemite NP, California. I positioned the camera so the foreground flowers would have a good left-right balance across the bottom of the frame, while pointing the camera at the mountains and keeping a good left-right balance among the three prominent peaks. I also kept the camera low enough to get close to the small flowers and make them look bigger, but high enough to see the pond in the middle ground.

Claudia and I have stayed close to home this summer. Luckily our home range includes some beautiful territory. We’ve made several trips to the eastern Sierra and Yosemite high country to photograph flowers and summer thunderstorms.

You can find wildflowers all over the Sierra during summer, but they tend to be scattered widely around the landscape. Dense patches and mixes of flowers are less common, but they exist – at least in some years, in some spots.

Despite our paltry winter snowpack, this has been a good year for finding some of those denser patches of flowers. I’m not sure why, since dry winters usually yield fewer summer wildflowers. But I’ll take it.

Three of the accompanying flower photos from this summer are wide-angle, near-far compositions with flowers in the foreground and mountains in the background. The others show patterns of flowers, or a closeup. But one thing they all have in common is that they’re carefully balanced.

Balance is one of the most important elements of composition, yet people seldom talk about it. I’m not sure why. Is it so obvious that there’s no need to discuss it? Not in my experience. In workshops I’m frequently talking about balance with students, and pointing out imbalances in compositions in the field or during image reviews. I hope if I do this often enough it will stick with them, and they’ll be more conscious of balance in the future.

Many photographers seem to find balance particularly challenging with near-far compositions. Maybe the background is nicely balanced left to right, but the foreground is off-center and out of balance. Or vice versa. For these near-far juxtapositions both the foreground and background have to be balanced left-to-right, and top to bottom.

The background placement is largely determined by where you aim the camera. But the foreground placement is mostly determined by where you place the camera – how high it is off the ground, and exactly where you put it left-to-right, forward-and-back – while keeping the camera pointed at the background, and keeping the background balanced.

You usually need to get the camera low and close to the foreground for these near-far compositions to work. Don’t be shy about it. Put that foreground front and center, right in the viewer’s face. Fill up the whole bottom part of the photo with it.

But when the camera is so close to the foreground, the camera position has to be exactly right. Placing the camera just an inch or two left or right, forward or back, up or down, can make a huge difference. It helps to take the camera off the tripod to find exactly the right spot. (Or use your phone’s camera to sketch the scene and find that spot.) Then you can set up the tripod in that location, at the right height.

And while trying to find this exact camera position, be sure to keep the foreground lined up properly with the background so the background stays in balance. It’s easy to become so focused on finding the perfect foreground that you end up with the camera aimed in slightly the wrong direction, and the background goes out of balance. The foreground and background have to work together. It’s a juggling act. It’s a three-dimensional visual puzzle. Every change in camera position affects how the foreground and background line up.

Sometimes it can work to have a diagonal balance between foreground and background – for example with the foreground focal point left of center, and the background focal point right of center. But it’s tricky to make that work, because a diagonal balance like that introduces tension. If you want tension, great. But most of the time I want my nature photographs to feel calm and balanced, not tense. Especially with flowers.

And I definitely don’t want both the foreground and background to be more heavily weighted to one side of the frame. Then the whole photograph will feel off-kilter. The viewer will wonder, consciously or unconsciously, why there’s empty space on one side of the frame, and why you didn’t point the camera more to the left, or more to the right.

Balance is vital. Don’t neglect it! As you look through the photographs in this post, think about the balance. Do they seem balanced from left to right? Top to bottom? I’ve included some notes about balance in each of the captions.

— Michael Frye

Wildflowers and peaks, Yosemite high country, Yosemite NP, California. Again I tried to position the camera so the foreground flowers would have a good left-right balance, and even distribution across the bottom of the frame, while keeping the three prominent peaks also balanced from left to right.

Peak, clouds, reflections, and wildflowers, Inyo NF, California. Here the most prominent visual focal point, the peak, is a little right of center, but it’s balanced by clouds, which are slightly more heavily weighted toward the left side, and the trees on the left. The most prominent clouds are about the same distance from the top of the frame as the flowers are from the bottom of the frame, and everything else – clouds, peak, reflections of clouds and peak, flowers – is pretty evenly distributed from top to bottom.

Wildflowers, Inyo NF, California. The flowers are pretty evenly distributed from left to right. There are more eye-catching red flowers toward the top of the frame, which might make the image a little top heavy, but they’re at least partially balanced by the greater number of white flowers toward the bottom.

Corn lilies, lupines, and arrowleaf balsamroot, Yosemite NP, California. The lupines and yellow balsamroot are pretty evenly distributed across the image, both left-to-right and top-to-bottom. The dark strip of trees along the top isn’t balanced by anything similar at the bottom, but serves as a border or frame for the line of flowers near the top.

Paintbrush, dew, and spider webs, Inyo NF, California. For a photograph like this, finding a way to keep the pattern evenly distributed across the frame will keep things balanced.

Alpine-crimson columbine hybrids, Inyo NF, California. When I have two prominent, similar objects on either side of the frame, I try to keep the spacing the same on the left and right sides. Here the distance between the left-hand flower and the left edge of the frame is about the same as the distance between the right-hand flower and the right edge of the frame. The columbines are closer to the top, but balanced by the stems below.

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Podcast Interview on Landscape Photography World

Michael Frye — Wed, 05 Aug 2026 20:21:06 +0000

Curves at dusk, Death Valley NP, California

I recently did an interview with Grant Swinbourne for his Landscape Photography World podcast, and thoroughly enjoyed this conversation. Grant asked a lot of thought-provoking questions, and we ended up talking about all kinds of things – capturing a mood, planning, goals, what defines success, learning the craft of photography, my early photography education, experimentation, getting past creative roadblocks, self-imposed restrictions, sharing locations, photographing familiar places, what photography has taught me about nature, authenticity in photography, and much more.

Grant just released this podcast episode; you can watch it on YouTube here, listen on your favorite podcast platform, or listen on Grant’s website. I hope you enjoy it!

— Michael Frye

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Light and Backgrounds for Birds

Michael Frye — Sun, 26 Jul 2026 20:42:24 +0000

Roseate spoonbill landing, Florida. Soft light, before the sun rose high enough to light the bird, brought out the beautiful, subtle colors in this spoonbill’s feathers. The background is out-of-focus water reflecting blue sky. 305mm, 1/500 sec. at f/5.6, ISO 8000.

Back in March, on our trip to Florida for the Out of Merritt Island bird photography conference, we had some wonderful opportunities to photograph roseate spoonbills in flight. The spoonbills’ repeated forays ashore to gather nesting material allowed us to catch them flying with varying wing positions, light, and backgrounds.

Like so many Florida birds, the spoonbills weren’t particularly afraid of people, which made things easier. But it was still a challenge to track and frame these fast-moving subjects, keep them in focus, and photograph them with good light against the right background.

One lesson I’ve learned the hard way about photographing birds in flight is to use a wider focal length than you think you need. If you’re zoomed in too tight it’s all too easy to cut off a bird’s wingtips or feet when it swerves in an unexpected direction. It’s better to zoom out a bit (just a bit!), and crop if necessary, than to cut off something important.

And, unless you’re deliberately trying to make a panned, blurred photograph, you’ll need a fast shutter speed to freeze the bird’s motion, plus continuous focus to track the bird’s flight, and continuous high-speed shooting mode to try to catch the perfect pose and wing position. And of course you’ll need some practice, patience, persistence, and a little luck.

You also need to pay attention to the wind direction. With rare exceptions, birds take off and land facing into the wind. The wind had a big influence on the flight paths of these spoonbills, which in turn influenced where I positioned myself to get the best views and put the birds in the right position, with the right light, against the right background.

For these photos I tried to catch the spoonbills with their wings spread as they came in for a landing. Patches of open water behind the birds provided a nice, clean, undistracting background, but those patches were relatively small. If I pointed the camera higher I’d see some of the darker far shoreline behind the bird (as in the photo below). If I pointed down, vegetation from the near shore would poke up into the bottom of the frame. To the left and right were other pieces of land, or their reflections. So I positioned myself carefully, taking into account the birds’ typical flight paths with the wind at that moment, to give myself the best chance of catching them in the right spot against the right background.

This photo shows a less-than-ideal background. The distant shoreline is distracting, and also bisects the bird, with part of the spoonbill against a light background and part against a dark background. 224mm, 1/750 sec. at f/5.6, ISO 1000.

I’d rather place the bird against an entirely dark or entirely light background. Here, reflections of trees created a dark background, and a light-against-dark juxtaposition. This was still soft light, with no direct sunlight; the natural tonal difference between the lighter bird and darker background created the contrast. 226mm, 1/750 sec. at f/5.6, ISO 800.

I loved this beautiful blue background, with out-of-focus water reflecting blue sky, creating a pink-and-blue color palette. The light here was soft, with no direct sunlight, which brought out the subtle colors in the bird’s feathers. (The light and background here are similar to the photograph at the top of this post.) 244mm, 1/750 sec. at f/5.6, ISO 8000.

With the water reflecting clouds, rather than blue sky, the background turned white. I decided to use that white background to create a high-key look for this image. 247mm, 1/1500 sec. at f/5.6, ISO 1000.

I didn’t want the camera to be too high off the ground, looking down on the spoonbills. I’d rather be at their eye level, or at least as close to eye level as possible, creating a more direct and intimate connection between the viewer and the animal. But if I got down too low the window of open water behind the birds shrunk, increasing the odds that the background would include something distracting. So I tried to find the sweet spot – not too high, and not too low. I also adjusted my position from left-to-right so that the birds would be more likely to spread their wings against a larger patch of open water.

On these mornings the sun rose behind me, front-lighting the spoonbills. But early on, before the sun got high enough to reach the birds, they were in soft light.

All the previous photos were made in soft light, but this image is front-lit. When the sun hit these birds the color of their feathers changed from pink to a striking red-orange. But shadows created by the sun could be distracting if they fell across the bird’s feathers in an awkward way, so I tried to position myself so the birds were as directly front-lit as possible, minimizing shadows. (Note how the shadow of the spoonbill’s bill is right below the bill itself, indicating that the sun was directly behind and above me.) 229mm, 1/1500 sec. at f/8, ISO 800.

Sunlight on the spoonbills it was visually striking to the naked eye, turning their feathers a vivid red-orange color. I’m usually not a fan of direct front-light for most subjects, but it can work well for showing colorful bird feathers. Reviewing my photos later, however, I often preferred the earlier, softer light. The sunlight created shadows, which could be distracting if the shadow of a spoonbill’s beak fell awkwardly across its body. (Because of that I tried to position myself so that the birds were as directly front-lit as possible, minimizing shadows.) Soft light, on the other hand, brought out the beautiful, subtle shades of pink in the spoonbills’ feathers. The quantity of light in those earlier, softly-lit photographs was less, so I had to push the ISO higher to get a fast enough shutter speed. But the quality of light was wonderful.

Out of Merritt Island 2027

It was a challenge to photograph these spoonbills, but also great fun. And this was just one of the many wonderful opportunities we had to photograph the beautiful, cooperative Florida birds. Ever since that trip I’ve wanted to go back, and luckily I’ll get that chance, as I’ll be one of the instructors at the next edition of the Out of Merritt Island bird photography conference in March of 2027. I know this next iteration will be just as much fun as the first one, so I’m really looking forward to doing it again!

I’ll be teaching alongside an amazing group of instructors, including Ray Hennessey, Lisa Langell, David Akoubian, Alyce Bender, Isaac Grant, John Putnam, and Jennifer King – 16 instructors in all. And I know the Out-of-Chicago team will do a great job of organizing this event and making it a wonderful experience for everyone. Can’t wait!

If you’d like to join us next March you can use the code FRYEMI500 to get $500 off the deposit for the conference. But this code expires soon – July 28th – so don’t hesitate! You can learn more and sign up here:

Out of Merritt Island Bird Photography Conference, March 15-19, 2027

I hope to see you there!

— Michael Frye

Roseate spoonbill with nesting material, Florida. Clouds created soft light, but soft light usually has some direction. Here it’s coming more from the top, from the clouds, while in earlier photos it was coming from behind me (soft front-light). I prefer soft front-light for showing off colorful subjects like this, but any kind of soft light can work. On this day a stiff breeze made the water choppy, giving the background a bit more texture.

Related Posts: Florida Birds; North Coast Wildlife

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North Coast Wildlife

Michael Frye — Sun, 05 Jul 2026 22:34:10 +0000

Great blue heron at sunset, northern California

An edge habitat is a boundary where two ecosystems meet – like when a forest meets a meadow, or a wetland meets a dry grassland. These edges usually support a greater variety and abundance of animals because you’ll find species from either ecosystem, plus species that need both ecosystems.

Roosevelt elk, for example, are pretty common along the northern coast of California, but live only where forests and meadows meet. They use the meadows (and some more open forest areas) for feeding, while the dense redwood forests provide shelter and protection from predators.

The most dramatic edges in the world are coastlines, where the land meets the sea. There you can find animals that are primarily ocean goers, animals that are strictly landlubbers, and animals that use both the ocean and the land.

On our trip to Northern California last month Claudia and I spent a lot of time along the edge of the ocean, and had some wonderful opportunities to see and photograph the area’s abundant wildlife. We saw many Roosevelt elk – strictly landlubbers. We saw gray whales, who are of course ocean dwellers, but prefer to feed and migrate close to shore. We saw river otters, who, in this part of the world, often feed in the ocean but make their dens on land.

And we saw lots of coastal birds. Some of these, like black oystercatchers, live right along the edge, feeding on beaches and coastal rocks. Others, like common murres, spend most of their lives on the open ocean, and come ashore only to nest.

Brown pelicans, abundant in this area, nest and roost ashore, but feed in the ocean or in open bays. They’re one of only two pelican species that dive to catch fish, and their dives are spectacular. They’ll start by cruising over the water up to 60 or 70 feet above the surface. Then, spotting a fish, they twist and plunge into a vertical dive, going beak-first into the water.

These are big birds, with 7-foot wingspans. But they’re graceful flyers, and incredibly agile divers. I tried to capture photos of them diving, and when viewing photos of them later I could see that a bird would keep its head and beak pointed straight down, but rotate its body and wings around its neck to steer itself as it made its vertical plunge. Sometimes it would flip partially upside-down before entering the water. And it would keep its long neck bent until the last second, when it would uncoil its neck to strike at the fish. It’s spectacular to watch.

We’ve often seen flocks of pelicans feeding well offshore, circling over an area and making repeated dives to catch fish. But twice on this trip we found pelicans feeding in shallow water right along a beach. They were unconcerned about people, which allowed us to sit on shore and photograph them as long as we liked. It was still a challenge to catch the right moments in the right light, but super fun.

Here’s a collection of wildlife photographs from our trip to the Northern California coast. I love photographing the redwood forests of this area, and the beautiful coastline, but the wildlife makes it even more special.

— Michael Frye

Roosevelt elk, northern California

Black oystercatcher flying over a beach, northern California coast

Black oystercatchers, northern California coast

Black oystercatcher calling, northern California coast

Double-crested cormorant with a fish, northern California coast. (Might be an anchovy.)

Brown pelican with a fish, northern California coast. (Also possibly an anchovy.)

Diving brown pelican, northern California coast. Note how its head is twisted 90 degrees from its body. Also, the neck is bent, ready to strike out at the fish at the last second.

Brown pelicans and crashing wave, northern California coast

Brown pelicans in the surf, northern California coast

Brown pelicans fishing, northern California coast. The diving pelican has its belly facing toward the camera, while its head is rotated 90 degrees.

Brown pelicans and ocean reflections, northern California coast

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Back to the Moab Symposium

Michael Frye — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 22:07:31 +0000

Dried mud and cottonwood leaves, Utah

I’m thrilled to announce that I’ll be going back to the Moab Photography Symposium next year! I was a presenter at the symposium way back in 2011, and had a great time there. I’ve wanted to go back, but it didn’t work out for various reasons – until now.

The symposium has evolved a bit since Bruce Hucko ran it every year. Bruce is still involved, but now the symposium is an every-other-year event, and organized by our good friends David Kingham and Jennifer Renwick, who I think are the perfect people to carry on this legacy.

Next year’s symposium features eight instructors, including David, Jennifer, Bruce, Colleen Miniuk, Michael Gordon, Chuck Kimmerle, Stephanie Johnson, and me. I’m looking forward teaching alongside these outstanding photographers and teachers.

The symposium is designed to be a little different than most photo workshops. It’s focused on creativity, personal vision, conversations, and interaction. It will include field sessions and presentations, but also opportunities for less-structured learning and growth during the evening PhotoJAM sessions. It promises to be a super-fun event, and I’m really looking forward to it!

The dates are April 26-29, 2027. If you sign up by July 31, 2026 you’ll get an early-bird discount. You can learn more or sign up here:

Moab Photography Symposium, April 26-29, 2027

I hope to see you there!

— Michael Frye

P.S. Here are a few images from the Utah canyon country, most of which I haven’t posted before. I love this part of the world, and look forward to exploring and photographing around Moab next spring.

Mud patterns with reflected light, Utah

Mud and reflections, southern Utah

Sandstone waterfall, Utah

Pools and reflections, Utah

Flooded slot canyon, Utah

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Sea Stacks at Sunset

Michael Frye — Sun, 21 Jun 2026 21:04:29 +0000

Sea stacks at sunset, Pacific Coast, northern California

During our redwoods workshops we always hope to find fog, but we also hope to see a nice sunset or two along the coast. Unfortunately those two things don’t usually go together. The kind of high fog layer (or coastal stratus) that might seep into a redwood forest often appears as a low overcast along the coast. Even if the stratus dissipates late in the morning, it can reform again just before sunset, blocking the light.

The most interesting sunrises and sunsets usually need some clouds to catch the light from the rising or setting sun and add interest to the sky. But the most colorful sunrises and sunsets usually involve high clouds, not low clouds. Since they’re so far above the earth, high clouds can catch the light from the sun well before sunrise or long after sunset. And because the sun can light those high clouds from such a low angle, the light travels through more atmosphere, filtering out the blue wavelengths of light, and leaving only oranges and reds.

But any clouds, even low clouds, can create beautiful sunrises or sunsets, as long as they’re broken clouds. A solid overcast sky will block the sunlight completely, but broken clouds, or a low gap underneath the clouds in the direction of the sun (east at sunrise or west at sunset), will allow the rising or setting sun to light the underside of the clouds. When lit from underneath, low clouds can become amber or orange, while high clouds can, under the right conditions, turn intense shades of red.

As I said in my last post, we got some wonderful fog during our redwoods workshop earlier this month. But looking at cloud forecasts from the weather models, it didn’t seem like a good sunset was in the cards. One evening, however, seemed slightly more promising than the others. Most of the models showed completely clear skies at sunset that evening. For coastal scenes that’s usually preferable to overcast, but not ideal. One or two models hinted that some clouds might be around in the late afternoon, but would clear out by sunset. Still, that seemed like the best bet, so we headed to a spot along the coast with some photogenic sea stacks.

As it turned out, a bank of clouds lingered until sunset and beyond. Even with the amazing abilities of modern weather models, none of them are perfect in predicting such details as whether a bank of clouds might cling to the coast. In this case we were lucky that the models were slightly off target. This was a low bank of clouds, but skies were clear farther west, and the clouds were high enough for the setting sun come underneath them and turn them orange. So it turned into a beautiful sunset.

The photograph above is my favorite from that evening. It was made just after the sun had dipped below the horizon and lit the underside of the cloud bank. I used a neutral-density filter to slow the shutter speed down to three seconds – slow enough to smooth and soften the water, but fast enough to still preserve some texture in the waves.

— Michael Frye

P.S. Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there, and Happy Solstice to everyone! As a photographer I look forward to shorter days ahead, with a chance for a decent night’s sleep between sunset and the next sunrise. 🙂

Related Posts: Sun Breaking Through Fog; Wave Party

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Sun Breaking Through Fog

Michael Frye — Sun, 14 Jun 2026 21:46:34 +0000

Trail through a redwood forest, northern California

In photography, light is vital. A wonderful subject can look drab without good light. But a mundane subject can look fantastic with the right light.

The light doesn’t have to be spectacular to make a compelling photograph; it just has to complement the subject, and help tell the story you’re trying to tell. But of course special light is always welcome. And one of my favorite kinds of light is sun breaking through fog. This beautiful light can work with almost any landscape, but it’s especially magical with trees or forest scenes.

Claudia and I just returned from another wonderful trip to the redwood country in northern California, and got to see sun breaking through fog on several occasions. On one memorable morning during our workshop the trail we took through the redwoods was right at the top of a fog bank, so we could hang out near the edge of the fog, and saw sunbeams for hours. We finally had to drag ourselves away around midday, not because the light was gone, but because we got too tired and hungry to photograph anymore.

Before and after the workshop Claudia and I were also able to photograph valley fog and river fog, with sunbeams slanting through trees along the edges of the mist. There are many different kinds of fog, and it seems that you can find most of them along the northern California coast – which is one reason why I love photographing this area.

Here’s a selection of sun-breaking-through-fog photographs from our trip to the redwoods. We had a great time in the damp, foggy, primeval forests of this area, and I’m looking forward to our next trip.

— Michael Frye

Sun breaking through fog in a redwood forest, northern California

Sunbeams in a redwood forest, northern California

Young and old redwoods, northern California

Trees and sunbeams, northern California

Trees, fog, and sunbeams, northern California

Redwoods with sunbeams and corona, northern California

Related Posts: Wave Party; Return to the Redwoods

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Wave Party

Michael Frye — Sun, 31 May 2026 22:24:51 +0000

Wave splash at sunset, Pacific Coast. 185mm, 1/500 sec. at f/16, ISO 3200.

Claudia and I are in the northwest corner of California scouting for our upcoming redwoods workshop. I always enjoy coming here, as I love both the forests and the coast in this part of the world.

On a previous visit Claudia had spotted some unusual wave activity at one coastal location while I was off photographing something else. Her description intrigued me, so I kept that spot in the back of my mind in case we got the chance to photograph big waves there. And we got that chance on Tuesday, with waves 16 feet or higher according to the nearest wave buoys. Waves like that are unusual for this time of year, so it seemed like a great opportunity.

And everything worked out beautifully. We watched some fascinating wave action, with waves crashing into and rolling over each other. It was a treat to photograph – though the photography was challenging. It wasn’t easy to predict where a wave might break or splash, and I probably missed more photos than I made. But the challenge made it more rewarding when things came together.

I mostly used fast shutter speeds to freeze the motion of the water. But I also tried some slower shutter speeds (either 1/4 or 1/6 sec) while panning with waves, and a few of those images seemed to work.

Here’s a selection of those wave photos from Tuesday, with both fast and slow shutter speeds, and in both color and black and white. All these images were made with a telephoto lens (100-400mm zoom), as I wanted to fill the frame with a wave to show off it’s texture and form.

I love watching ocean waves. They’re always mesmerizing, and really large waves are awe-inspiring. It’s also super fun to try to photograph those big waves, and I had a great time doing that on Tuesday. I hope to have another chance soon.

— Michael Frye

Surging wave, Pacific Coast. 379mm, 1/500 sec. at f/16, ISO 160.

Churning waves, Pacific Coast. 274mm, 1/500 sec. at f/16, ISO 160.

Rooster tail, Pacific Coast. 247mm, 1/500 sec. at f/16, ISO 160.

Rolling wave, Pacific Coast. 315mm, 1/500 sec. at f/16, ISO 160.

Wave form, Pacific Coast. 241mm, 1/6 sec. at f/16, ISO 100, ND filter.

Breaking wave, Pacific Coast. 190mm, 1/6 sec. at f/16, ISO 100, ND filter.

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The Quiet Side of the Grand Canyon

Michael Frye — Sun, 17 May 2026 21:32:40 +0000

Creek flowing through a limestone side canyon, Grand Canyon NP, Arizona

I just returned from a wonderful 12-day raft trip down the Grand Canyon. This was my fourth time down the canyon, and third with Visionary Wild and my amazing co-instructor, Jerry Dodrill. It’s always so special to raft through the heart of this spectacular, wild, and remote landscape, and it was wonderful to share this adventure with our great group of participants, and with our fantastic AZRA guides: Ed, Tony, Michele, and Boh.

During each of my trips down the Grand Canyon I’ve been struck by the contrast between the grandeur and immensity of the main canyon, and the quiet, subtle beauty of the side canyons. You can be walking beside a roaring rapid along the Colorado River, with cliffs and terraces ascending thousands of feet above you, then turn into a narrow side canyon and be out of earshot of the river within a few minutes. And in these quiet sanctuaries you can find tinkling streams, hanging gardens of ferns or flowers, waterfalls, and beautiful, sculpted, polished rock.

I’m still working through the 5,000 photos I made during our trip, but here are a few of my favorites from those beautiful, quiet side canyons.

— Michael Frye

P.S. There’s still time to sign up for my next webinar on sharpening and noise reduction. Click this link to learn more or sign up:

It’s All About the Details: Taking the Mystery out of Sharpening and Noise Reduction

May 18th (tomorrow!) at 4:00 p.m. Pacific time (7:00 p.m. Eastern time)

Waterfall and polished schist, Grand Canyon NP, Arizona

Shaft of light in a limestone canyon, Grand Canyon NP, Arizona

Willow and sculpted sandstone, Grand Canyon NP, Arizona. Although I took this photo on a tripod, the wind was blowing the willow branches, and the light was low, so I had to push the ISO up to 1600 to get a fast enough shutter speed to freeze the motion of the branches (1/20 sec. at f/16). These days I don’t hesitate to use high ISO settings when necessary, since noise-reduction tools have become so good. I’ll discuss and compare these tools in detail during the webinar tomorrow.

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