Posts Tagged ‘Howard Zahniser’

New Release: Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake

February 23rd, 2012

The Making Of “Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake, Glacier Peak Wilderness” Copyright 1956 by Philip Hyde

Ardis and Philip Hyde Write About Trekking Into The Glacier Peak Wilderness and Image Lake in Their Travel Logs.

In the proposed North Cascades National Park, Ardis and Philip Hyde backpacked To Image Lake with Philip & Laura Zalesky, Grant McConnell And Other Sierra Club Board Members with the David Brower family, Howard Zahniser family, Jane Goldsworthy, Bob Golden, Rich Miller and others joining the group for the Sloan Creek High Trip.
Lake Chelan,
Lyman Lake
Image Lake
Glacier Peak Wilderness

Glacier Peak: The Glacier Peak Wilderness was originally proposed as part of North Cascades National Park. The Seattle chapter and other chapters of The Mountaineers, the Sierra Club and many other environmental groups in and out of coalitions in the Northwestern United States have campaigned for more than 60 years to have the Glacier Peak Wilderness added to North Cascades National Park. Last year yet another failed proposal nearly made it through the US Congress.

The Photograph: Even though Philip Hyde was the primary illustrator, his 1956 photograph, “Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake,” was not part of the Sierra Club Exhibit Format Series book, “The Wild Cascades: Forgotten Parkland”  that helped in the campaign to make North Cascades National Park. However, the high mountain photograph became fairly well-known as it was used in the campaign to make the Glacier Peak Wilderness part of the National Park and in several other books and magazine articles. Philip Hyde never made a color fine art print of the photograph. Also, it was rare that Philip Hyde used 5X7 transparencies for color photographs. By far the majority of his color photographs were made with 4X5 film. The original 5X7 color transparency of “Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake,” has faded and color shifted significantly.

Restoration: The photograph was restored for archival fine art digital printing by David Staley, Jr. of Outdoor Plus Digital Print Lab. David Staley, Jr. quit counting his time at eight hours and worked long beyond that to get this photograph correct in Photoshop. Ed Cooper, a mountaineer, climber, outdoorsman, large format and Sierra Club Calendars photographer and book author who knew my father, confirmed that our restoration looked very close in color, hue, saturation and range to the original landscape that time of year and to his own Photoshop restoration of his color shifted 4X5 color transparencies of Glacier Peak and Image Lake. Ed Cooper has backpacked into Image Lake himself and photographed it a number of times.

For the first time ever produced as a fine art print, Archival Digital Prints of “Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake” are now available at New Release Pricing for a limited time.

Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake, Glacier Peak Wilderness, North Cascades, Washington, copyright 1956 by Philip Hyde.

(To see the photograph large go to: “Glacier Peak From Above Image Lake.”)

This Section by Ardis Hyde

Friday, August 17, 1956:  We departed leisurely from Philip and Laura Zalesky’s home in Everett, Washington. We drove through miles of apple orchards to the Southern end of Lake Chelan to Lake Chelan State Park, which proved crowded with little privacy.

Saturday, August 18:  We just made the Lake Chelan Steamer at 9:10 am. We steamed up Lake Chelan, making two stops on the way. The land on both sides of the lake was low, hot and dry foothill country. The steamer was crowded, but comfortable and very maneuverable. We disembarked at Lucerne, Washington and transferred to a bus that took us up 10 miles of good graded gravel road to Holden, Washington. We were surprised to find Holden a pleasant shingle mining town, all company owned except for many private residences built on land leased from the US Forest Service. While we were walking to the Sierra Club camp, a Sierra Club truck met us, picked up our gear and delivered us to the packers just in time to have our duffle transferred to the pack horses. Shortly, around 2:30 pm, we set out on the 8 to 9 mile hike to Lyman Lake. The going was hot and humid through a lush young forest. Some kind of packing accident happened on the trail that spooked the horses and landed our dunnage and film box on the trail. They repacked our horses and headed on to camp, arriving after sundown around 7:45 pm. The packers were at that point only ahead of us by 15 minutes. With much of our trip after the sun slid behind the mountains, the nine mile hike seemed long enough, but not too hot or over strenuous. We arrived so late that we made our bedding and campsite right near the commissary by the lakeside.

Sunday, August 19:  It was the coldest night we spent sleeping out, the whole summer. Philip laid tarps over us that became soaking wet on the under side. After getting up, we found a good, sheltered and private campsite near the stream and relocated our gear. Philip photographed subjects around camp, while I spent the day reading the novelized true story of, Anna and the King of Siam, the book that inspired the film and Broadway Musical The King and I. I became acquainted with Sierra Club leader and pre-eminent political scientist Grant McConnell, his wife Jane, his daughter Ann and his son Jim. They spend the summers in a cabin at Stehikin, Washington and winters in Berkeley, California, where Grant McConnell teaches Political Science at the University of California. Also around camp were Al Schmitz and Oliver Kehrlein, co-leaders of the trip. There were only about 15 Sierra Club members in Base Camp at that time, while 125 more people from other groups and individuals were expected soon.

The Following Section Written by Philip Hyde

Sunday afternoon a group of us including Philip Zalesky and Grant McConnell hiked up to Phelps Creek Pass and Spider Pass for views down Phelps Creek and of the Entiat Mountains in the proposed Glacier Peak Wilderness. The Seattle group of The Mountaineers club proposed that the Glacier Peak Wilderness boundary run across Spider Pass.

Monday, August 20:  We gathered our gear together to backpack to Image Lake over Cloudy Pass and Siuattle Pass, then along Miner’s Ridge. We hiked past an old mining camp from several years ago. Several miles further we came across the present mining camp. What a mess. There were trees chopped off two feet or more from the ground in all directions, old oil drums, tin cans, bottles, and all sorts of other imaginable debris everywhere within throwing distance. The mining camps support diamond drilling operations prospecting for copper ore. Large scaffolds in several places support the drills. All of it is supplied by helicopter. We hiked on along Miner’s Ridge. It was a stiff climb to high steep grassy slopes, then around into a cove in the ridge and Image Lake finally below. Image Lake is in a small depression held back by a rock lip around the downhill edge. Below the lip, the valley plunges deeply down to the Suiattle River canyon, while our gaze moves upward to the steeper slopes across the river valley, up, up, to lower snow fields and finally to the immense, white glacier-covered slopes of Glacier Peak. Ardis preceded me into camp, while I exposed several large format black and white negatives and color transparencies of the Suiattle River Valley and surrounding peaks. I found Ardis’ welcome of hot soup as I walked into camp by the shore of Image Lake. There was a beautiful full moon that night over the snowy slopes of Glacier Peak across the valley.

Tuesday, August 21:  I woke up early to make more 5X7 view camera photographs of Glacier Peak across and from above Image Lake. Then I climbed the pass behind the lake for a view across Canyon Creek and Canyon Lake nestled in a cirque about two thirds of the way to the top of the ridge. Then I joined Ardis and some of the others, picking up our packs and heading back down to our Lyman Lake Sierra Club Base Camp. On the way, we took a high trail near the mine and ended up near one of the drilling rigs watching the helicopter operation. We took off cross-country, off-trail, bushwhacking while contouring along the ridge. After negotiating several patches of heavy forest and avalanche paths, we rejoined the trail for the climb up to Siuattle Pass and Cloudy Pass, followed by the drop down into the Lyman Lake basin. It’s a long haul, not so easily done with backpacks as we were led to believe. The mob had descended on Lyman Lake Base Camp. Already the lake surroundings look beat up. Circus tents are up, as well as individual large tents, which the management rents out.

Wednesday, August 22:  I hiked up to the South Peak of North Star Mountain today for magnificent views of Glacier Peak over Cloudy Pass and Siuattle Pass. Oliver Kehrlein made a sly dig at me at the evening campfire for going up alone.

Thursday, August 23:  We were up early for the walk out to Holden, Washington, leaving the Lyman Lake Base Camp for the trip around to the Sloan Creek Sierra Club High Trip. It was cloudy early, bringing the first threat of rain this week. It rained some on us backpacking down. We took the bus from Holden to Lucerne and down Lake Chelan in a boat. There was some hard rain on the lake. It was overcast all afternoon and night, as we camped in the US Forest Service campground on Steven’s Pass…

More in another blog post as the Hydes met up with the David Brower family, Howard Zahniser family, Jane Goldsworthy, Bob Golden, Rich Miller and other Sierra Club Board members and regular members…

The Oregon Cascades’ Impact On Conservation

June 14th, 2010

The National Implications of Land Wars Over the Oregon Cascade Mountain Forests

Ardis Hyde On Horseback With Packer Tom McAllister From Portland At Waldo Lake, Oregon Cascades, Oregon, 1969 by Philip Hyde.

Heated land use debates in the 1950s and 1960s concerning the forests of the Cascade Mountains in the Northwestern United States, helped define the future of wilderness protection nationwide. While the battle over the dams in Dinosaur National Monument took the national stage sooner, launched the modern environmental movement and set a precedent that would keep industrialists out of the National Park System; the land battles over the lush forests in the Northwestern U.S. began around the same time and cannot be underestimated in their national impact.

Decisions in Oregon and Washington State affected forest management policy in the National Forest System more than the National Park System. Nonetheless, the resulting conflicts and their outcomes played a significant role in the eventual forging of the Wilderness Act in Congress and provided a blueprint for grassroots environmental campaigns all over the country, particularly in the West where wilderness came under the greatest threat of desecration by resource exploitation.

The main purpose of the post-World War II Forest Service was to supply timber. The policy of multiple use often translated into allowing various uses of public lands, as long as they could co-exist with logging. Lumber companies kept pressure on the Forest Service to provide a guaranteed supply of logs. “An era of stewardship of the nation’s public forests gave way to an emphasis on rapid extraction of timber resources,” wrote Kevin R. Marsh in Drawing Lines in the Forest: Creating Wilderness Areas in the Pacific Northwest. “This spawned a grassroots movement that ultimately challenged the managerial power of the Forest Service.” It was 10 years in the making, but the Wilderness Act of 1964 finally opened the process to citizen participation, giving the public a say in the drawing of wilderness boundaries. Before 1964, small citizen groups had less power, but after 1964, the two opposing forces of industry and conservation shaped the Wilderness System.

Cascades Wilderness Battles Helped Conservationists Tune Their Message To Become The Wilderness Act

In the Cascade Mountain Range, a string of volcanic peaks and up thrust rocky crags extending from Northern California through Oregon and Washington and into Canada, many groups played a role—the U. S. Forest Service, the timber industry, recreationists and environmentalists. The opposing forces consisted of timber interests and the Forest Service on one side and local groups such as the Obsidians and Chemeketans on the other side, often supported by national environmental organizations such as the Sierra Club, National Audubon Society and the Wilderness Society. When enough national outcry supported the protection of an area, Congressional Law made it official but not without a tremendous fight and wrangling in and out of Congress right up to the final signing as in the case of North Cascades National Park or Olympic National Park. Needless to say, merely obtaining wilderness status for many areas engendered a terrific political and often legal war.

Originally in 1893, President Grover Cleveland established the Cascade Forest Reserve encompassing nearly 5 million acres, from Mt. Hood in Northern Oregon to Crater Lake in Southern Oregon, to limit the cutting of mountain forests and to protect watersheds. Aldo Leopold, author of A Sand County Almanac, a pro-wilderness polemic, set a national example as his worked within the Southwest agency of the Forest Service to found the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico in 1924. Forest Service leaders such as Arthur Carhart in Colorado and Elers Koch in Idaho thwarted the inroads of “progress” into wilderness and fostered the agency atmosphere in line with Gifford Pinchot’s vision from years earlier. These new leaders in the 1920s reformed management practices and created Primitive Areas in the National Forests, which limited but did not end industrial use. “The Forest Service would later argue that these boundaries were not meant to be permanent,” wrote Kevin R. Marsh.

Lumbering slowed significantly during the Great Depression, but took off again during and after the War. In the Willamette National Forest, the volume of logs cut more than quadrupled between 1945 and 1955 and continued to increase for decades. The Forest Service began to reclassify many primitive areas without any input from the locals. Frequented by hikers, fishers and small boaters, Mt. Jefferson Primitive Area had some of the highest recreation levels of any wilderness in the Northwest, second in Oregon only to the Three Sisters Wilderness to the south. The Three Sisters Wilderness lies directly east of Eugene Oregon, a progressive college town that participated fully in the 1960s anti-establishment, anti-war “revolution.”

Conservation Strategy From The Cascade Mountains Became A Blueprint For Local Efforts Nationwide

In 1954, when the Forest Service proposed reclassifying the Three Sisters Primitive Area, a widely divergent range of local hiking clubs, conservationists, scientists and social liberals, began to evolve over the next few decades into a powerful grassroots movement in Oregon and across the nation. Since 1951, when the Forest Service had tried to pass off shrinking the primitive area as beneficial to the local economy, Carl Onthank and his wife Ruth Onthank, Ruth Hopson and other local activists rallied supporters to form the Friends of the Three Sisters Wilderness. Karl Onthank, dean of students at the University of Oregon, described the leaders of the new group as “scientists who know something of our Cascade Mountains and are interested in seeing a little of them preserved for future enjoyment in their natural state and for scientific study.”

Friends of Three Sisters became an example for later site-specific grassroots campaigns. At a 1955 Forest Service hearing, local groups from all over Oregon such as The Mazamas, the Obsidians, chapters of the Sierra Club, National Audubon Society groups, Wilderness Society leaders, the Oregon Federation of Garden Clubs, the Mountaineers, Olympic Park Associates, the Izaak Walton League Eugene Chapter, the AFL and CIO unions and many others rallied against reducing the Three Sisters Wilderness. The Forest Service expected a one day hearing but had to carry it into a second days when a total of 79 speakers wanted their turn. Some voiced concern for retaining recreational space, some for not allowing wilderness to be reduced over and over as in other states, some wanted to protect areas for scientific study, and others thought logging interests could make more efficient use of the existing public and private timber lands.

On the second day of hearings, Howard Zahniser, executive director of the Wilderness Society arrived and testified with hints of the language from the Wilderness Act that would not pass Congress until 1964, but that he had already begun to draft in 1955. The Three Sisters campaign was pivotal to the national cause of wilderness preservation as it would set a precedent for whether people had a say when Federal lands were reduced to benefit private industry. David Brower, Executive Director of the Sierra Club corresponded with Karl Onthank to stay informed of developments. David Brower and other Sierra Club leaders contributed to the campaign by writing letters to the media and leaders in Washington DC, just as Ruth and Karl Onthank and their associates were doing.

Disperate Conservation Campaigns Organized Into The Modern Environmental Movement

Nationally the tide was high for conservation as the wilderness ideals of John Muir and Henry David Thoreau were hitched to a new environmental movement that employed the media, Congressional lobbying, letter writing campaigns, the courts, full-page newspaper ads and grass root organizing. At first it the purpose was wilderness protection, but later environmental campaigns strived to limit water and air pollution and other environmental destruction brought on by land development, growth and a booming industrial age.

In 1955, The Sierra Club published This is Dinosaur: Echo Park Country and Its Magic Rivers, edited by Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Wallace Stegner with photographs by Philip Hyde, Martin Litton and others. A copy of This is Dinosaur landed on the desk of every Congressman just as they were deciding how to vote on the Colorado River Storage Project Bill. David Brower testified in Congressional hearings against the dams and the Sierra Club ran full page newspaper ads warning Congress not to endorse a hotly opposed expensive project in an election year. The new brand of environmentalism worked. The bill passed Congress without the Dinosaur Dams and with a phrase added barring dams in national parks or monuments.

Following this national land conservation victory, Three Sisters activists communicated their position with a growing effectiveness that surprised the Forest Service, but as the struggle went on, the Forest Service defined the debate and wilderness advocates had to stay on the defensive. By 1957, the Friends of Three Sisters had lost the battle and the Forest Service went through with their original planned boundaries. The loss confirmed the fears of wilderness proponents across the country but solidified determination to push for a Wilderness Act to prevent “having this kind of battle on every one of the primitive and the limited areas,” said Karl Onthank. Oregon senators responded by sponsoring the Wilderness Act and helping Howard Zahniser and others draft it. The Forest Service decision on the Three Sisters Wilderness, swung support toward the Wilderness Act but years of conflict over it were yet to come.

Future Blog Posts will share the story of the making of North Cascades National Park, the Mt. Jefferson Wilderness Area Skirmish and the role of Philip Hyde’s landscape photography in both.

What Is An Environmentalist? What Is A Conservationist?

March 19th, 2010

“Look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better.” –Albert Einstein

Foliage Illuminated, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, California, 2009 by David Leland Hyde. Camera Raw. Photoshop used only for resizing. Nikon D90, hand held.

Without letting our minds complicate or judge these words, here’s a simple definition: an environmentalist is anyone who likes to breathe, drinks water and does not want either one polluted. A Conservationist cares about maintaining the quality of wilderness, the same way everyone else cares about the quality of air and water.

The two words are sometimes used interchangeably, though conservation was the earlier version of environmentalism, with particular emphasis on land preservation. Conservation, as practiced by Henry David Thoreau and John Muir, transformed into modern environmentalism, between 1955 and 1975, when political lobbying, advertising, letter writing, grass roots organizing, book publishing and other modern methods evolved, and when activism broadened from wilderness protection into other issues such as, you guessed it, water and air pollution. Lest you doubt that the meanings are truly this simple, check a good dictionary.

Besides the obvious and logically strong argument that if we don’t protect wilderness, it will continue to disappear, why is it wise for an outdoor enthusiast, landscape photographer or anyone to care about the natural places he or she enjoys? Is there a deeper reason than just wanting to look at beautiful scenes? In future blog posts I will quote Wallace Stegner, Ansel Adams, Philip Hyde, Katie Lee, Henry David Thoreau, Edward Abbey, Rachel Carson, Anne Dillard, John Muir, David Brower, Aldo Leopold, Howard Zahniser and others on why wilderness is important. These people have some ideas. For more on Henry David Thoreau see the blog post, “Ralph Waldo Emerson On Henry David Thoreau.” For more on Edward Abbey read the blog post, “Who Was Edward Abbey?

In the meantime, let us grapple with the idea of ‘environmentalism’ and the ‘environment.’ Is it wise at this time in history, to care about the environment, particularly if you consider yourself an outdoors person, naturalist, nature photographer, or as Ansel Adams called himself and his colleagues, “a photographer of the natural scene”?

If the world is going to end anyway eventually, what does it matter if we keep it from ending sooner? If mankind’s time on this green globe is only one very small fraction of an instant compared to how long the rest of it has been around, and is likely to continue, who are we to think we can destroy or save the natural world? Why not forget about environmentalism and use everything up and trash the planet? After all, isn’t the Gross Domestic Product or GDP more important? Making a profit is what counts, right? If GDP grows a few percent, that is good for everybody, if it drops a few percent, we are all in big trouble, right?

We could also remember that at some time in our childhood, our mothers taught us to pick up after ourselves, share with others, not hoard all the toys, if you spill something, clean it up or ask mom to help you clean it up, do not just leave it, pack back inside everything you take out, and let everyone have a turn. If we just applied sandbox etiquette to the world, we might get along better and live longer.

Was the concept of the environment, as separate from Mankind and the man-made world, the idea of environmentalists? If you are an environmentalist, does it follow that you care about the ‘environment’ and not about people? Those damn environmentalists! They are the cause of our society’s woes, particularly the woes of capitalists just trying to make a living. Are environmentalists against capitalism? Heck, when you get right down to it, are environmentalists un-American? Are environmentalists terrorists? What is an “eco-terrorist”? Is he or she an ecologist-turned-bad?

I thought the term terrorist referred to someone who kills people. Do “eco-terrorists” kill people? Or do they just cause inconvenience for resource-exploiting and habitat-destroying industry? By the way, is the habitat being destroyed only that of small endangered species, or is it yours and mine?

Let’s see, Webster’s says, “Terrorism: the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coersion.” OK, then what is terror? Webster’s tells us it is,”To frighten. To cause anxiety or worry.” Under these definitions, the news media are terrorists, as are doctors, nurses, especially hospitals, ads for drugs, commercials, law enforcement, a few but certainly not all museum curators, stock brokers, bankers, credit card companies, insurance companies, airport personnel, lawyers, how could I forget lawyers, power-hungry-instant politicians who support big polluters and other big business, librarians, archivists, sometimes relatives and sometimes even neighbors. The world is full of terrorists and there is a lot to be afraid of…? Are environmentalists the worst of all? That’s what some would have you think. Are they really?

Now let’s check Webster’s again, “Eco-terrorist: sabotage intended to hinder activities that are considered damaging to the environment.” Sign me up. How do I join? OK, wait, what is the definition of ‘environment,’ “Environment: the circumstances, objects, or conditions by which one is surrounded. The complex of physical, chemical, and biotic factors (as climate, soil, and living things) that act upon an organism or an ecological community and ultimately determine its form and survival.”

OK, so let me get this straight, an eco-terrorist is not interested in hurting other people, he or she is more interested in making sure that other people are not hurtful. An Eco-terrorist sabotages activities that damage the factors that determine his or her survival. I can live with that. Fair enough. And an environmentalist works on the positive side of it, an environmentalist is interested in preserving the factors that determine his or her survival. Just wanted to clear up these various meanings, so people didn’t throw around terms that they think are insulting, but are truly complimentary.

What do you think? Are you an environmentalist? If not, why?

58 Years In The Wilderness Intro 2

January 18th, 2010

Drake's Beach, Point Reyes National Seashore, California, 1972, by Philip Hyde. From the Reprint of "Island In Time: Point Reyes Peninsula." (Out of Print)

(See the photograph full screen: Click Here.)

(CONTINUED FROM BLOG POST, “58 Years In The Wilderness Intro 1“)

Why did the pair spend one third of their lives pursuing this unusual brand of adventure?

As the 1950s became the 1960s, groups like the Sierra Club, the Wilderness Society, the Izaak Walton League, the National Audubon Society and the National Wildlife Federation brought public attention to protecting and enjoying nature. Howard Zahniser of the Wilderness Society authored the Wilderness Act legally defining wilderness. In 1962, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring came out in protest of chemical spraying and exposed corporate environmental negligence. The same year, Sierra Club Books released In Wildness Is The Preservation of the World with color photographs by Eliot Porter with quotes from Henry David Thoreau and Island in time: The Point Reyes Peninsula by Harold Gilliam with photographs by Philip Hyde. These were the first two widely distributed books with large color fine art landscape photographs sharing the beauty of nature. While Eliot Porter’s book was all color, Philip Hyde mixed beautiful vintage black and white photographs with large color plates. Dad was recognized as a master of both mediums, though as color caught on, Porter’s book sold more copies. A handful of photographers, through the Sierra Club and its leader David Brower, brought wilderness right to the United States Congress and Senate and into living rooms across the country. The Sierra Club had reinvented the large picture book as the Exhibit Format Series. These high-quality coffee table volumes represented, as never before, the wild places the Sierra Club wanted to protect.

Photographs first helped preserve wilderness in 1864, moving President Abraham Lincoln to establish Yosemite as the world’s first scenic land preserve. Yet in the 1950s and 1960s the use of the camera to defend wilderness reached its zenith. More preserves, wildernesses, National Parks and Monuments formed out of campaigns by environmental groups than ever as America’s leaders and people saw natural landscapes through a “new” medium. During the heyday of the Sierra Club publishing program, Club membership grew exponentially. The first book in the series, This Is The American Earth featured primarily the work of Ansel Adams though other well-known western photographers such as Eliot Porter, Philip Hyde, Edward Weston, Pirkle Jones, Minor White and Cedric Wright had one or two photographs. Ansel Adams, Eliot Porter and Philip Hyde became the primary illustrators of the series. Dad’s photographs in particular, appeared in eight out of the sixteen books published in the sequence. Several volumes in the series became bestsellers and this combined with Washington DC lobbying, brought the Sierra Club into national prominence.

After marrying in June 1947, Dad and Mom joined the Sierra Club later that year while Dad started photography school. The Club had just over 900 members, but within the next two decades the ranks swelled to over one million. Other conservation organizations like the Wilderness Society also grew exponentially and many new organizations formed.

Photography itself had undergone a transformation as well. Soft focus pictorialism dominated the first third of the 1900s. Few photographers successfully bucked the trend toward printing on canvas and other art papers, soft focus and special effects that made photographs resemble paintings, until Alfred Stieglitz published a magazine called Camera Work in which he began to encourage what he called “straight photography.” Photographers in the Western United States increasingly made photographs of landscapes without people. Only a few pioneers had captured landscapes previously, they were not common. In 1932 photographers Willard Van Dyke, Imogen Cunningham, Edward Weston, Henry Swift, Sonya Noskowiak, John Paul Edwards and Ansel Adams formed Group f.64 in San Francisco. Named after f.64, the smallest lens setting enabling the most detail in a photograph, the group composed a manifesto limiting “members and invitational names to those workers who are striving to define photography as an art form by simple and direct presentation through purely photographic methods… Pure photography is defined as possessing no qualities of technique, composition or idea, derivative of any other art form.”

In the mid 1940s, Group f.64 member Ansel Adams founded a fine art Photography Department, the first ever of its kind, at the California School of Fine Arts, now the San Francisco Arts Institute. When Ansel Adams first started the department, students of painting, sculpture and other disciplines erupted into a school-wide protest against photography being part of a fine art school. In those days, photography was not considered an art form, let alone a fine art. Yet Ansel Adams persisted with encouragement and support from San Francisco art patron Albert Bender and other California art movers, as well as fellow photographers such as Paul Strand in the Midwest, whose work appeared in Camera Work, and from Alfred Stieglitz himself. Group f.64 members Edward Weston and Imogen Cunningham helped teach at the California School of Fine Arts. Besides Philip Hyde, the program turned out such notable photographers as Pirkle Jones, Ruth-Marion Baruch, Charles Wong, Bill Heick, Cameron Macaulay, Benjamen Chinn, Don Whyte, Rose Mandel, Bob Hollingsworth, Stan Zrnich, Pat Harris Noyes, David Johnson, Ira Latour, Gerald Ratto, John Upton, Walter Stoy,  and others.

With three years of photography school and a certificate of completion, Dad built on what became known as the west coast tradition and went on to influence a generation of nature photographers with his simple, understated forms and subtle desert and mountain landscapes.

“Dear Phil,” Minor White, lead instructor at CSFA, wrote in a letter to Dad in 1950, “Your pictures are as clean as Ansel’s, with a slant of your own seeing. You are starting your career as few of my students have done. In a way I envy your present mastery of the medium…”

By 1971, Ansel Adams wrote that Philip Hyde was “one of the very best photographers of the natural scene in America.” Ansel Adams said he liked Dad’s photograph, “The Minarets from Tarn Above Lake Ediza,” better than his own photograph of the Minarets in the Ansel Adams Wilderness. In 1999, American Photo Magazine named Dad’s “Cathedral in the Desert, Glen Canyon” one of the top 100 photographs of the 20th Century. Dad’s work appeared in more than 75 books, 130 newspapers, 100 exhibitions and over 60 magazines including Audubon, Wilderness, Life, National Geographic, Aperture, Newsweek, Time and Reader’s Digest. He has received many awards including one for lifetime achievement from the North American Nature Photography Association in 1996 and the Albert Bender Award in 1956. The principal artist in over a dozen books, he also wrote magazine articles and an autobiographical essay to accompany his photographs and the writings he selected of John Muir’s in The Range of Light (1992). Dad wrote the text for Drylands: The Deserts of North America (1987), which won three literary awards. Beginning in the 1970s he taught photographic workshops for more than 30 years for organizations such as the Museum of Northern Arizona, John Sexton Workshops, Ansel Adams Gallery Workshops in Yosemite and many other schools of photography.

Dad and Mom stand as examples of how to tread lightly on the earth and find satisfaction in a simple self-sufficient lifestyle. Early in Dad’s career he made a decision to live in the mountains of Northeastern California far away from the photography marketplace. By living in such a remote place, he also gave up the opportunity to be more involved in the Sierra Club and other organizations. With fewer book signings, gallery openings and connections he sacrificed greater financial success to live close to nature.

Mom worked by his side from the beginning. While he attended the California School of Fine Art she worked as the receptionist at the school. Later she became known as an excellent kindergarten teacher and was renowned in the mountain valleys of Plumas County for her knowledge of birds, plants, organic gardening and natural cuisine long before it became popular. Dad thought he would go on working and making photographs his entire life, but in the summer of 1999 he began to lose his eyesight, and within a year he was completely blind.

(See the photograph full screen: Click Here.)

Virginia Creeper, Northern Sierra Nevada, California, 1977, by Philip Hyde. Made more magazine covers than any other Philip Hyde photograph. Example of Straight Photography and colorful enough without amping up the saturation.

Yet Dad proved there is more to vision than eyes and more to seeing than vision. He was one of the first to visualize a civilization in harmony with all life rather than exploiting the Earth as a commodity. In his photography training, as in any good art training, he learned to see deeply. Photography is the art of seeing patterns, forms, relationships that the untrained eye would not see. One day in 1987 he slowed his gait as he passed through our yard at home. He stared at the Virginia Creeper Vines against the weathered gray cedar siding of the house he built. Besides autumn reds, yellows and oranges contrasting with unturned green leaves, some of the leaves reflected blue from the sky. Most eyes do not notice the blue because we automatically edit it to green, the expected color for leaves without the reflected sheen. He ran inside and gathered his wooden Reis tripod and 4X5 Baby Deardorf view camera and set up on our front lawn for one of his most widely-published and exhibited photographs.

By late 2001, his 58-year photography career ended suddenly as his sight fully faded to black and he could no longer make photographs or even print them in his darkroom. Mom acted as his guide, business manager and constant companion. She tried to do the work of two people, keeping up with the photography business and finances as well as maintaining the grounds, house and kitchen. Then the second devastation arrived, Mom died suddenly in March 2002.When she passed on, I moved back to the mountain home where I was born, from my place across the country in upstate New York. We cried, reminisced and cried some more. Sometimes we screamed into the lonely woods, at the sky, at the stars, but the night absorbed it all. In time we began to talk on tape about the many wilderness miles we walked together. Dad described his adventures with Mom seeking the “Good Life” while helping to protect such places as Dinosaur National Monument, The Grand Canyon, The California Redwoods, and many other seashores and wilderness areas of the American West.

Until his death in 2006, I read him the environmental news almost daily. He relied on dreams for glimpses of the natural world he spent a lifetime defending. We sought to make sense of the loss of my mother; the loss of Dad’s eyesight and the state of environmental decline and violence the world is in today. Dad sometimes wondered why he worked so hard. Unfortunately environmental battles are never won, they are merely postponed. The dam site is still there, the mineral resources are still in the ground, the trees are still uncut, the road plans may some day yet destroy the pristine meadow. The beaches are always ripe for new hotels and condominiums. Nonetheless Dad saw clearly two possible visions for the future. In one we continue to poison our home until we destroy ourselves. In the other we learn to live in harmony with life and sustain ourselves on this planet perpetually. In the chapters that follow, I retrace the wanderings of Ardis and Philip and sometimes me tagging along, throughout the wilds on an odyssey through remote terrain from Alaska to Switzerland to Mexico to Southern Utah, my dad’s favorite state besides his home in the mountains of Northern California. All with the purpose of offering a glimpse of how one family lived and did what they could to make a difference and inspire others to do the same, to bring about the future with the most possibilities.

58 Years In The Wilderness Intro 1

January 18th, 2010

Cathedral In The Desert, Glen Canyon, Utah, 1964, by Philip Hyde. Named One of The Top 100 Photographs of the 20th Century by American Photo Magazine

(See the photograph full screen: Click Here.)

Revised January 17, 2010
Originally written 2005

From 58 Years In The Wilderness:
The Story of Ardis and Philip Hyde Traveling, Defending and Living in the Wilderness

Introduction First Draft

Two days of rain battered our white plastic rain fly. The 20-foot-square white tarp hung from ropes tied to trees on the two diagonal corners and to stakes in the ground on the remaining corners. Under the tarp our orange four-man tent billowed in gusts of wind.

I snuggled into my down sleeping bag in the tent and listened to the drone of rain. Just outside the front flap of the tent, though well under the rain fly, squatted Mom. She held a Sierra Club cup with a decaf coffee freshly poured from the small teapot on the grate down at the fire.

It was April 1970 and we were backpacking in Coyote Gulch in the Escalante Wilderness, Utah in an area that later became inaccessible as the waters of “Lake” Powell drowned the mouth of Coyote Gulch. My dad, Philip Hyde, a freelance landscape photographer, often worked with the Sierra Club and other environmental organizations such as the Wilderness Society and National Audubon. He found out about this spectacular red-walled canyon full of arches, overhangs and green seeps slipping over hidden ledges, because the area was part of a proposed wilderness and more than once put forward as a potential National Park. By 1970 Dad’s photographs had already appeared in dozens of books and before the United States Congress, Senate and many other state and local political leaders on behalf of wild lands all over the Western U.S. His photographs were applied to more environmental campaigns than those of any other photographer of his time.

Ardis and David, Camp at Icicle Springs, Coyote Gulch, Escalante Wilderness, Utah, 1970, by Philip Hyde. Baby Deardorf 4X5 View Camera taking a break, Hasselblad in operation. Ardis Hyde writing in the trip log.

The wind picked up and the rain fly pelted the tent roof, keeping me from dozing off and getting my daily nap I usually had in the afternoon at age five.

“Where’s Daddy-O?” I asked, up on an elbow to see Mom.

“He’s getting firewood.”

“In the rain?”

“He must have had to go farther than expected and decided to hole up under an overhang or something,” Mom said.

“Hmm. I hope he’s all right.”

“Now David, your father is a very capable man. Do you want more hot chocolate?”

“Yeah,” I sat up, pulled my Sierra Club cup out and held it up to her.

“Say please,” she responded.

“Please,” I said.

She carried my cup down to the fire in the rain, balanced it on a rock, lifted the larger kettle from the campfire with pliers, tilted it and poured into my cup spilling only slightly. She delivered the hot chocolate to me, safely squatting and dry still just inside the tent and without shoes.

“Let that cool again now,” she said.

“OK,” I said, balancing the cup to the side and scrunching back down into my bag. “It seems pretty dark.”

“There is plenty of light left,” she said.

The wind and rain blended into a rising roar. I was back down into my bag but up on my elbows. I shivered though I was a mummy in down. I sipped tiny scalding tastes of hot chocolate. The light from the campfire flashed and flickered dimly on the tent ceiling. The shadows deepened. Every few seconds I heard the splitting of limbs or the thunk of twigs on the tarp. The fresh smell of masses of water pounding sand and sandstone was punctuated with bursts of lightning followed by deafening cracks in the sky.

Just then Dad appeared with a large arm-full of wood.

“You sure are soaking wet,” Mom said. “Why don’t you come in and take off those wet clothes?”

“I need to get a few more armloads of wood,” he said. He began to jog off into the rain but she stopped him.

“Philip?”

“Ardis?”

“There’s hot chocolate here,”

“Ummm,” he said kissing her quickly on the lips and running. “Thank you love, I’ll have some in just a minute.”

I snuggled deeper. Mom poked the fire. The rain fell even harder. It seemed the raindrops were bunching together in torrents and falling like waterfalls on the flap bucking in the wind.

Mom never doubted Dad’s capabilities. She added her talents to the collaboration perfected and imperfected by time and exposure to a spectrum of weather conditions. Dad fixed flat tires, dead batteries and broken equipment with patience, ingenuity and often little resources. Mom planned and prepared. She managed the food and supplies. She supported emotionally, physically and spiritually. She kept the daily trip logs, read the guidebooks and for fun studied plants, animals and especially birds.

Preparing for excursions, Dad studied the geology of the area he would scour for picture possibilities. In the field he knew the weather. On his studio wall he kept a chart of more than 20 types of clouds. He could often accurately predict the weather by looking at the sky or indicators like the barometer and thermometer. He kept a constant vigil for the light and atmospheric conditions favorable to photography.

From their marriage on June 29, 1947, until Dad began to lose his eyesight in 1999, he spent an average of 99 days a year in the field. Mom accompanied him more than half the time. They traveled mainly between April and October in the Western United States camping, backpacking, driving, riding horses, mules, trains, planes and boats to access wilderness for almost one third of every year of his working life. Summers were not the best months for photographs, but that was mainly when he traveled, so that Mom could go along in her time off from teaching kindergarten.

The summer of 1955 was typical of Dad’s early career. After buying a 1954 Chevrolet Pickup in March from Brett Weston, a contemporary photographer, Mom and Dad spent 12 days in April in the California Redwoods, across the state, 300 miles west of their home in the mountains of Northeastern California. Then Dad turned around and journeyed alone 600 miles south of home, May 3-14 to photograph Hetch Hetchy Valley in Yosemite National Park. Continuously for the next three months Mom and Dad backpacked, camped, river rafted and drove thousands of miles through Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. This included three river trips: 13 days on the Colorado River through little known Glen Canyon, 26 days on the Yampa River in Utah and Wyoming inside Dinosaur National Park, and five days on the Ladore River, also in Dinosaur. By August 16, after three weeks in Wyoming in Yellowstone National Park and Grand Tetons National Park on a Sierra Club Pack Trip, Mom got a ride home with participants, but Dad continued on to Glacier National Park, Montana for 10 days and Olympic National Park, Washington for two more weeks. Dad did not see home until September 10.

Why did the pair spend one third of their lives pursuing this unusual brand of adventure?  (Rhetoric question. Part of the text.)

(CONTINUED IN BLOG POST, “58 Years In The Wilderness Intro 2“)