Peaceful Valley

Now and Then

Peaceful Valley is more than just a quaint little neighborhood tucked below downtown Spokane, its where I grew up. Its exotic mixture of urban culture, folk lore and natural wonder are directly responsible for my ambition towards adventure. The opportunity to create almost an exact photo of me standing below a mural my father painted of me almost 30 years ago is such a rare thing. What a blessing to be able to visit a place that meant the world to me as a child and to still feel the same way as an adult.

Peaceful Valley then was a magical land of nature tucked into an urban culture of post 70's artists, musicians, and activists. The threat of child abductions didn't exist and parents trusted their kids to make good decisions... at least my parents did. They enforced only three rules: Don't pick up/play with needles, Don't go into a stranger's house; and Don't play near the river. The first two were easy.  In the mid 80's the punk-rock junkie scene was growing in popularity in Spokane and it was easy to know who to avoid. I had friends whose parents were, for lack of a better word, sketchy. The few times I did get invited into some of their homes I found an excuse to leave quickly. The site of broken dishes and heaps of clothing piled over furniture mixed with a moldy smell of patchouli was disgusting. It didn't take much exposure for me to abide.  

The river was a little different; I created my own rules and boundaries. I found it harmless to be along the banks, to throw stones, and look for artifacts. I knew the areas to avoid - the steep cut banks with swift water - and I knew not to go swimming. Other than that the river was just one of many settings my pack of boy friends and their tag-along brother's chose to explore.  Our imaginary Samurai battles against Shredder (for those who remember the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) had many venues of wild spaces. The apple and plum orchard behind our house was a great hiding spot to build tree forts and included a quick escape route to Main Street. The cement foundation under the Maple Street Bridge provided perfect protection during chestnut wars and stick fights. We all new the community center was neutral ground and Glover Field was just next door to pick up where we left off. 

Peaceful Valley is where my first survival instincts really kicked in. As a 7-year-old the stories of the big floods (before the river was dammed) translated into: The Spokane Falls Dam might fail at any moment! And guess who's prepared? I remember blowing up a K-Mart raft with my neighbor Jason and stocking it with snacks, blankets, and flashlights practicing for the next big flood. I wonder if this is where my obsession with packrafting originated?

Back then I was a tomboy with a taste for pretty things. I was that girl who wore dresses while skateboarding and forced my pet rabbits into doll clothes and commenced bunny marriages. Ironically not much has changed. Peaceful Valley is still full of aging hippies, and I still play with nun chucks. There remains a community garden and free food program, and I still find myself as one of the only girls in mostly male dominated field. Fortunately, Peaceful Valley has cleaned up its drug problem and I now photograph human weddings rather than marry bunny rabbits. In a few days I leave for a new adventure: to explore a foreign culture, to immerse myself within it's faith, and to just let myself be a child within a new playground - the Himalaya! Today this post is a celebration of my heritage, of where it all started, in a neighborhood with a sacred name, Peaceful Valley.

The Spokane River flows through Peaceful Valley just below the Spokane Falls. This lower section has become a favorite put -in for several rafting companies. Hundreds of years ago this same location was a favorite fishing camp for Native Americans. 

One of a dozen mural's my dad was commissioned to paint in the early 1980's as part of community arts grant. This is one of my sister Amy rollerskating. It's pretty neat that 30 years later these paintings are still intact, although some badly faded, its still a fun piece of Peaceful Valley history. 

Main Street with the sunsetting behind one of the more plentiful chestnut trees in the area. 

 

Mamma and Papa Thamm in their back yard with their pup Riley. 

Kate and Tory

On August 4th I had the honor of photographing Kate and Tory's wedding in Thompson Pass near Valdez, AK. High in the tundra friends and family gathered from all over the country to witness a truly unique event. Surrounded by the majestic landscape of the Chugach mountains' most impressive roadside peaks, Tory and Kate couldn't have asked for a more perfect day.

We started the morning with a light hike along a ridge near Point Odyssey. Friends from out of town and family members chatted as they made their way through patches of old snow. In the afternoon I joined Tory and Kate again as they prepped at 19 mile -Tory at their cabin and Kate down the road at a neighbors log home. On the Richardson Highway every location is know by it's mile post. The ceremony, mile 29, was set just off a short dirt road that overlooked the Lowe River towards Keystone Canyon. Guests decorated in Patagonia, Carhearts, old fashioned dresses and nickers patiently waited with children and dogs. The scene was rich with color, style and creativity. It couldn't have been anymore perfect as Kate's father walked her along rocky tundra to an alder woven arch. The reception picked up about twenty miles north at the Rendezvous. At times Tory accompanied the old time band with his fiddle while everyone danced and ate and celebrated such a memorable day.

There's nothing I enjoy more than photographing friends in love in Alaska. For some reason the connection between Tory and Kate and the gigantic ice covered mountains is so incredible to me. To know how much they value the wildness of their home and the diversity of their community makes me so happy to share these photos with them. I wouldn't be surprised if they've stood upon some of the surrounding ridges wondering, hmmm... where might our two feet take us next?  I'm not sure I can even fathom the significance, but I can imagine that they will look back on this day and remember how lucky they are to have found each other.

 

Friends, Fish, and Big Smiles!

                                 

Several weeks ago a friend invited me to go dipnetting on the Kenai. I've never been much of fisherman and the few times I've tried to go sport fishing I've always come back empty handed. Dip netting though... to hold a large net in the water and wait for salmon to swim in. No rod, no reel, no bait, or hook. Sure. Sounds like my kind of fishing.

At one point I had 3 fish in my net and Nathaniel 4. We were tossing back the females and the small ones and within a few hours we'd both caught our personal limit, 15 each.  And then the work began- cleaning and filleting.

It had been a long time since I'd gone on an adventure with with another photographer. Most people would have opted for home to deal with the vacuum sealing or smoking, but when the light is good and there's interesting things to take pictures of - no way. We both disappeared into the abyss of nets, families, and fish - cameras in hand to fish for images of this unique Alaskan culture. Hours later we drove away from the Kenai with giant smiles on our faces replaying some of the highlights from the day. I couldn't believe I had been missing this in my life.

The following week Betsy and Emily, two longtime friends from college, invited me for for round two. The Copper River. Nathaniel had warned me of how different the Copper River is compared to the Kenai; steep dangerous cliffs, less people, a long hike in, and a long haul out. But then admitted that the Copper is his favorite. Again - how could I say no?

There's only so much fish one can eat and I already had my share for the season. I was more interested in helping Betsy and Emily get their harvest for the winter. We arrived late, 7pm, and starting hiking from O'Brien creek out of Chitna. About 3.5 miles in on the old railroad route two guys on a 4 wheeler stopped and pointed out their spot and said the fishing was good. By 9pm Betsy had her first fish and immediately started bossing me around. God - I love her! The excitement of more fish was thick in her tone as I scrambled to grab her fish and string it onto a rope. I knew there was only an hour of good light left, so much to Betsy's disappointment I pulled the photographer card for the first 5 or 6 fish. Soon I found myself gutting and filleting under my headlamp as Betsy and Emily handed me one fish after the next. At 26 Sockeyes we opted to set up the tent and get a few hours of sleep. By 6am Betsy and Emily were back at it again. We made it back to the car by noon and in less then one day we had managed to catch 37 fish and pack it out. They said it was a new record. I'm calling it beginners luck.

Alaska always ceases to amaze me in its raw beauty and abundance. Its these kinds unique opportunities combined with wonderful people that make me proud to call Alaska home. I'm so grateful to have such quality friends who value this lifestyle. Thank you Alaska and all those salmon we'll be feeding us this winter.

Time: Our most Precious Resource

Somewhere between ski season, working two jobs, and trying to maintain even a small portion of spontaneity in my life, my blog has fallen to the bottom of the list and Facebook has taken its place. I try not to use excuses or ramble on about reasons for not following through on important things in my life, but I do think Facebook is part of it. Its just so easy to get instant feedback. Its kind of an addiction at times; to post a new favorite image, wait a few hours, then pop up my fb page to read all the fun comments. Recently I've started questioning my motivation for sharing in this style. Am I taking photos just to get compliments from my friends? What about the story behind the image?  And where is that fun creative process that I used to enjoy while compiling my thoughts and selecting just the right photos to post? I'm not bagging on Facebook. It certainly has its purpose and I appreciate all of the connections and opportunities it provides, but it sure can suck away the time.

I sat down the other night and read my blog from start to finish. It blew me away! It was so interesting to acquaint myself with my recent past; to see the progression of my photographs from only 5 years ago until now; to see my style evolve and shift from playful fine art editing to more of a real life in camera feel; to read about all of the amazing places I've visited and to see my friends adventuring in the mountains. I was moved by my reflection of a difficult journey to Patagonia in a time when I was struggling to be present with my pain and suffering. And delighted to see Rob and Holly's wedding and remember how adamant I was about not becoming a wedding photographer... only to shortly find myself shooting weddings for Chugach Peaks Photography and just loving it.  I can't help feeling incredibly lucky to to be able to share my work and words in this platform, to be reminded that life is constantly changing, and to know that every moment is completely unique and precious. 

 I wonder if my blog will still automatically feed to Facebook? 

Sandy and Steve, Aug. 31, 2011

Serendipity is defined as discovering something favorable by complete accident. That is how I ended up photographing Sandy and Steve’s wedding 40 nautical miles outside of Seward, Alaska. My plan was to visit some friends who manage a lodge in the remote ocean coast of Aialik Bay. A week prior I was informed that Sandy, the marketing director at Alyeska Ski Resort, was going to be getting married on the same day I was to arrive. Sandy has been a big supporter of my photography and has been using my photographs on Alyeska’s website for the last year. Considering the coincidence I couldn’t think of anything I’d love more than to share my services on their special day especially in such a beautiful place.

I’m always amazed by the variety of strategies couples choose for their wedding day. Some focus on the smallest of details, invite everyone they know, and throw an extravagant party. Steve and Sandy are definitely on the other side of this spectrum. I would call them wedding minimalists with an ambition for adventure. They deemed their day “the un-ceremony,” invited only their immediate family, and found one of coolest places on earth to exchange their vows. Standing on the bow of boat with seals sleeping on ice burgs in front of a mile wide calving glacier is pretty darn cool - even in the rain.

The following day the clouds parted and we woke up to sunny clear skies. Steve, a Safari guide for Alaska Wildland Adventures, guided us on an incredible hike from the door steps of the Kenai Fjords Backcountry Lodge. We climbed a 1000 feet through moss covered spruce onto a broad ridge above Pederson Glacier on the edge of the Harding Ice Field. The view was a perfect backdrop for another photo shoot of the bride and groom in paradise.

Thanks Steve and Sandy for letting me be your wedding crasher photographer. What a unique experience!