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When you visit a national park you will see so many things, some completely new to you and your travel partners.  The one thing you do not want to forget is a CAMERA! I remember when I vacationed at Zion National Park one summer with friends.  It was an 8 hour drive down and when we got there I realized I didn’t bring my camera. 

It was so disappointing! I “settled” for two disposible camera’s I bought at the gift shop later that day; one for normal pictures and one with a panaramic capability.  The trip to Zion’s was amazing, with long stretching vista’s and stunning horizons.  Everytime I took a shot I wondered how it would turn out.  To my surprise and delight when I got the pictures developed about a week after I got home they were all wonderful! 

Taking a good picture depends first and formost on HOW you take it.  Following are a few tips to getting a great shot; regardless of the type of camera you use:

1) Focus in on your subject.  If it is three feet tall get down on your knees. If it is up a tree try standing on a tall object like a stump (or climb up a nearby tree if it’s an option). 

2) Use a plain background, if at all possible.

3) Go ahead an use a flash outdoors.  A flash will brighten dark or shaded areas of your subject and help them stand out from the background.

4) Move in close.  Step right up to your subject or if you have a close up lense use it to create an impactful picture.

5) Take some verticle pictures; whether you are looking up at one of Yosemite’s waterfalls or up a granite rock mountainside a verticle (turning the camera sideways) picture will be sure to capture as much of the scene as possible.

6) Move it from the middle.  Placing your subject off center brings your picture to life. 

7) Take your time.  Try out different angles, if possible try different posses of people or animals in your shot.

Following these simple steps will help you take pictures that won’t disappoint you and keep the memories you’ve made alive.

 

 by Ryan Becker

My eyes opened to the soft white glow of the desert moon, playing a game of hide-and-seek behind the uneven horizon of Nevada’s high-desert mountains.  My family and I were in route from Norton, KS to Tustin, CA to visit my Aunt and Uncle and Grandmother, (on my Dad’s side), for the summer.  We were about half-way through our journey now and my Grandfathers old Ford pick-up truck was purring down the Nevada freeway several thousand feet above the desert floor.

We had decided to use my grandfather’s truck for the trip because he had a good sized camper which he could put on the back which allowed him and my father to take turns driving and sleeping without the need to stop for the night.  We had been on the road for a good ten or twelve hours now and it seemed like a lifetime since we had departed from the lush grassy prairies of Kansas, and passed through the fertile Colorado Mountains.  All I had seen for the last several hours were miles upon miles of endless sand, stone and sagebrush.  At some point during the late afternoon the warm sun and the monotony of the desert countryside had taken effect and hypnotized me into a deep sleep.

I’m not sure at what point I had drifted off to sleep, but during the time when my eyes were closed the hot desert sun had disappeared below the arid horizon and now all that remained was an incandescent cobalt glow just luminous enough to reveal the black silhouettes of the vindictive Sierra Mountain’s which rose up like a dam from the parched desert floor.

I couldn’t have been much older then four or five years old.  I really can’t believe that this memory has stayed with me all these years like it has.  There was nothing particularly eventful about this evening, or even the trip.  I was excited about getting to see my aunt and uncle and grandmother out in California, but that is not what made this moment so special.  This was the first real trip I had taken in my Granddad’s truck and camper, so I suppose that that made somewhat of an impression on me, but that is not what made this memory so special either.  It was something else…something magic about the moment, something so unique that it has stayed in my memory for nearly twenty-five years.

I think it was the ambiance of the moment and the people who were there to share it with me. My dad and sister were asleep in the camper at the back of the truck, my granddad was driving, my mom was riding shotgun, and I had just awoken from sleeping on the seat beside my mom.

I think it was my mom who had awoke me at my request.  We were approaching the valley where Las Vegas lay and I was anxious to see the glittering lights from a distance.The radio was on at a low volume and my mom and granddad were laughing and chatting about something fun.  As a kid I always enjoyed hearing my mom’s voice, especially when she was talking with my granddad.  There was something very jovial and peaceful about their conversations, and it always put me in a good mood. 

I remember the cab of my grandpa’s pick up truck being dimly lit by the pure glow of the moonlight shining through the windshield and the soft lights of the dashboard.   I wiped the sleep from my eyes and rose up on the seat to peek out the side window of the truck and catch a glimpse of the lights of Las Vegas down in the desert valley.

As a young boy who had grown up in the wheat fields of Kansas, in a small town of about 2,000 people, I was completely awestruck by the vast sea of twinkling lights that stretched as far as my sleepy eyes could see into the pitch black desert.

I remember being so excited at the sight of Las Vegas and so content to be sharing this experience with my family, and in particularly my mom who always had a special way of bringing a certain magic to any moment through her tenderness and charisma.

We didn’t pass through Las Vegas on this trip, instead our route took us around the outside of the city, but I remember having my eyes glued to the window the entire time that Las Vegas was in view, and continuing to watch as we continued on down the freeway, until the last light disappeared into the black night behind us.

Again, I can’t put my finger on exactly what it was about this moment that has burnt the image into my memory so strongly that it has not faded after 25 years of every-day living.  Perhaps it was the anticipation of the adventure that still awaited me at my aunt and uncles home in California… the excitement of the first real trip in my granddad’s pick-up truck and camper… the ambiance of the desert night and the peaceful glow of the cool desert moon… the soothing tone of my mom and grandpa laughing and conversing… or the splendor of the twinkling lights of Las Vegas… perhaps it was the culmination of all these things that made this moment so special.  All I know is that it was a moment that was frozen in time, a moment that has not faded from my memory after all these years and a memory that will probably remain with me until my final breath.

 

Every year we celebrate one day out of the whole year to honor our mother’s.  The poet William Ross Wallace penned the now famous words, “For the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.” Each of us can look back over our lives and see the profound influence that our mother’s have had on who we are or experience the wonder of being a mother.