If only they knew...

There is a group of people out there that I call The Oblivions.  You've seen them...at the grocery store they are the ones that stop their carts in the middle of the aisle and start reading labels.  Nobody can get around them so you're left with being rude or waiting.  They'll stand in a doorway during a conversation and be totally unaware of anyone trying to go through the door.  At the lunch counter they will have a conversation with the cashier while everyone behind them is trying to get their food and eat it within the 30 minutes allotted for lunch. 

I don't think they mean any harm.  I don't think they're even aware of what they're doing but that doesn't stop them.  Anyway, in the spirit of revisiting old blogs and essays, here is an essay I posted shortly after our Alaska cruise in 2005.  Enjoy...

The Narcissistic Fog of Oblivion

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm not always the most considerate, most rational, kindest person you've ever met. In fact, I can sometimes be a bit recalcitrant given the proper set of circumstances. But though I've recently come to be pretty comfortable with my own degree of benevolence towards my fellow man, I saw some things on our Alaska Cruise that really showed how rude and insensitive people can be. And the sad part is I don't think they even realize it.
It all started at the Vancouver airport in British Columbia and let me say that I don't blame the Canadians or any other group of people specifically. For those of you that have never flown in or out of Vancouver, it's a lovely airport. Almost on a par esthetically with our airport in Denver. And it's pretty well laid out. You come off the plane and follow the signs, which are clearly labeled, to your destination, which, in our case, was Customs. Once through customs you go to the baggage carousels to get your bags and that's when the problems begin. Vancouver is a bit smaller than DIA so there are only about 4 baggage areas which is not a problem in and of itself but to exit the area there is only 1 door. All the people from all the baggage carousels are trying to get out one skinny little door at the same time. One of the most disastrous bottlenecks I've ever seen.

Logic and common sense would dictate that if folks apply the ski lift line etiquette we may have a bit of a wait but everyone will get out quicker. But like a wise man once said, "Common sense is perhaps the least common of all commodities." Things went okay for a minute or two but when we got within 50 feet of the door, chaos took over. One would think that an extra measure of politeness would assert itself but suddenly it was every man for himself. Several times I had to excuse myself and crowd in front of someone in order to keep contact with Judy. It was madness! My first exposure in a long time to the game of Chicken. We were calm though, knowing we didn't have anywhere to go, and when our turn came we were out the door and into the fresh air. We caught the shuttle and were delivered safely to our hotel with no further mishaps.

This mentality continued to manifest itself in various forms throughout our trip and after a while we remarked on it and started having fun observing it. In Ketchikan and all the other ports it showed its head in a different guise. When a group of people are approaching you on the sidewalk and 4 of them are walking abreast taking the whole sidewalk, wouldn't you think 1 or 2 of them would speed up or drop back and line up to let another couple pass? Not happening. Many times we observed this behavior in just about every place we were from Canada Place to the boardwalk in Skagway and the sidewalks of Seward.

The first couple of times Judy and I stepped aside and let the folks pass but that got real boring real fast. Next I tried making eye contact while continuing to walk towards the oncoming foursome but that had little effect also. Finally I came upon the perfect strategy. When confronted with the choice of getting off the sidewalk to avoid collision, I merely walked up to the approaching group and stopped, forcing them to make a move to step aside or stop.

Another form of Oblivion was the groups of people that stop to visit in a manner and location that totally blocks everyone else from passing. You're left with the choice of trying to squeeze by or waiting until the conversation is through which could take several minutes. After a few waits and a few bumps I finally started alternating between saying "excuse me" in a loud voice, or clearing my throat. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't but the people were usually aware that they had blocked egress and made adjustments immediately

I don't suppose I can hope that these things will magically disappear nor do I think I even want them to. Oblivion serves 2 purposes for me. It gives us something to observe while in public places and thus amuse ourselves, and of course it makes us even more aware of these behaviors in ourselves and hopefully we can avoid being the rude Americans.


So there you are.  Do you know any Oblivions?  Are you a closet Oblivion?  Leave a comment and we can share a chuckle together.

We'll always have Lake Powell...

Not exactly sure how to start this blog.  I usually go for a cheap laugh or a catchy "hook" beginning but words fail me so I'll just start.  Today I had my 14 year old Labrador, Kahlua, euthanized.  She'd been getting more and more feeble recently and this morning after I had to carry her up the stairs to let her out I looked into her eyes and she told me it was time.  Truth be told, it was probably time some months ago but I've been selfishly putting it off.  Sorry old girl..

In an effort to avoid becoming too maudlin and depressed I've been thinking about some of the good adventures she and I had over the years and thought it might be cathartic to share them.  I hope you'll indulge me for a few minutes.

The image above is from a trip she and I made to Lake Powell in 2003.  I had a few extra vacation days and decided to spend a 4 day weekend tent camping so I loaded up the boat, tossed Kahlua in the truck and off we went.  I'll never forget that trip for several reasons but mostly because of Kahlua.  The first evening on the lake I'd found a marvelous little beach and made camp when huge houseboat full of partying 30 somethings decided they needed my camp spot more than I did.  After the usual verbal sparring during which they told me they wanted my camp spot and I politely declined to give it to them, followed by their threat to kick my butt and take it, I had Kahlua do one of her favorite tricks.  She was the most gentle lovable dog around but upon being given the command "Mean Dog" she would growl and bare her teeth.  I knew she was bluffing and it was just a trick she'd learned but the guys on the houseboat thought she was serious and none of them wanted to get chewed up so they left.  I still chuckle about it sometimes. 

In her younger days Kahlua was an amazing retriever.  Maybe too good....one summer she got really disgusted with me while fishing on my In-Laws' ranch in South Dakota.  Every time I fish there I practice catch and release unless I've been requested to supply the makings for a fish fry.  On this one particular trip Kahlua was with me and every time I released a fish she would dive in the creek and try to retrieve it.  After about a dozen tries she looked at me with a puzzled expression that said "What the bleep are you doing?  I can't fetch those things!"  And on the Lake Powell trip I eventually had to stop fishing.  Seems every time I cast a lure she would jump in and try to retrieve it.  I didn't have a doggie boarding platform for the boat so after the first 4 or 5 times of dragging her soggy butt up over the side of the boat I figured my back needed a rest.  Besides, I had visions of her actually grabbing one of the lures...the thought of a Labrador getting punctured by a bunch of treble hooks was not a pleasant one. 

She was quite the retriever though.  Once when my niece, Cathy, and her family were visiting, her son Jared spent all afternoon tossing a ball in the park and Kahlua nearly ran herself ragged fetching it.  We almost placed bets on who would tire out first.  Later, at the dinner table, Jared asked his mom "..when we get home can we get a REAL dog like Kahlua?"  I guess he wasn't so enthralled with their herd of dachsunds after playing ball with my dog.

We had some good times, me and her.  But one thing stands out above all others.  I had borrowed some display tables from my employer to have a garage sale and on Sunday afternoon I loaded them in the truck to return them and took Kahlua with me.  The business was in a less than savory part of town and I almost always saw some homeless guys in the alley or down the block but I didn't want to have the tables sit outside in my truck all night so away we went.  At the studio I backed my truck halfway into one of the rental studios and was in the process of unloading tables while Kahlua explored the new place.  I was finishing the unloading process and walked back into the studio.  I was facing away from the door and Kahlua was in front of me facing towards the door.  All of a sudden she got all puffed up...her hair was standing up and she started growling deep in her chest.  Not the playful growls she made when we played tug of war but a real mean menacing growl.  I turned around to see what she was looking at and saw one of the homeless guys standing about 10 feet away from me with a piece of pipe in his hand.  He looked at me, looked at the dog, then dropped the pipe and beat feet down the alley. 

But now she's gone..and if there's a doggie Heaven she's earned it.  Her legs will work again and she will be able to hear again.  Her eyes will be clear and bright and barking will be fun, not painful. The rabbits and pheasants will be slow and stupid. Best of all, there won't be any cats or if there are, I won't be there to stop her from chasing them.  Enjoy your rest, dear friend.  You will be missed.

Random Musings

Occasionally I write a blog when there's not really anything specific to ramble on about, simply snippets.  This is one of those occasions.  So strap in and here we go.

The picture up top is the new sled.  The Murano is dead, long live the Nitro.  15 days ago I was involved in a minor fender bender and I learned quite a few things.  Mostly, though, I learned about vehicles with airbags.  The Murano had part of the front bumper and front fender carved off.  No big deal...couple thousand bucks of body work and good as new.  But no!!!  During the crash a few wires of the wiring harness were sheared off and apparently when that happens to a vehicle with air bags it's an automatic total.  See, once the wiring is replaced there's really no way to test the air bags.  Well, no way short of running the vehicle into a wall which is sort of counter to the point. 

Anyway, after getting the check for the total I went car shopping last Saturday and ended up with the Nitro you see before you.  It's different than the Murano..(duh)...much more primitive.  Where the Murano was plush and luxurious the Nitro is spartan and functional.  No electric seats, no heated seats, not a spec of leather anywhere....radio controls are (gasp) on the radio instead of  the steering wheel and horror of horrors, there's no compass to tell me which direction I'm going and no outside temperature indicator.  But all is not lost.  I'm fairly certain I won't rip the skid plate off of the Nitro like I did the Murano and I'll have to work pretty hard to get this thing high centered like I nearly did in the Murano last year in the Badlands.  And to be honest, the Murano needed some work...new front struts, new tires, and the CVT (continuously variable transmission) was getting sketchy again.  It was replaced at 87,000 miles which was about 85,000 miles ago.  So maybe it's not all bad.  I'll know more in a few months.

I wonder:  Why is it that the "best ever rock bottom" price of a vehicle can be reduced by nearly 10% by just saying "Let me think about it until Monday."  You tell me this is your absolute best price then reduce it when I stand up to leave...what the bleep?  I hate car shopping.

And to the moron that was running the engine of a Charger inside the showroom at the Dodge dealer, I was absolutely truthful when I told you the carbon monoxide blowing in my face was giving me a headache.  Your wife may fake headaches but I don't.  Get a clue dude.

Unexpected dental work, car wreck, wedding expenses adding up, airline ticket prices doubled...all these things conspired to cause me to cancel my March trip to Phoenix for spring training and my proposed trip to photograph the Palouse region of Washington state in May.  But the good news is Erin is having her wedding in Sedona in September and I've wrapped some extra vacation time around the date so I can spend some time there and then dawdle my way home photographing some neat stuff on the way. 

Rocky Mountain Nature Photographers get together in Moab in May, Sedona in September...2 road trips for the new vehicle.  ROAD TRIP!!!!! Whoooooooooo Hooooooooo!

Speaking of Moab, if any of you are passing through there this summer take some time to check out a couple of photo shows.  In July my friend Bret Edge is having a show of his images along with the work of Guy Tal at the Visitor Center of Dead Horse Point State Park near Moab.  2 of my favorite photographers displaying their work in one place at the same time!  Bonus!  Also, Bret will be having a solo show beginning September 10 at Back of Beyond book store in Moab.  One of the best book stores on the planet and some wonderful images...another bonus!

Speaking of airline prices, what's up with Southwest!  I love Southwest and won't fly any other airline unless SW doesn't fly where I want to go.  But come on, guys...the fares from Denver to Phoenix during the month of March are double what they are in February or April.  I guess they figure what with spring break and the Rockies training in Scottsdale for the first time, they can sell tickets for as much as they want and people will buy them.  Then in April the price gets back to normal.  Freakin shameless profiteers.

Okay, that's all for now.  I've had my monthly quota of ranting and whining.  Next blog will be less rambling and more substance. 



Sedona in September

I've been out of the Photography biz for well over 10 years now.  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday when I was agonizing over the decision to walk away from a job I loved and plunged into Corporate America.  For those 10 years I've satisfied my Photography Jones by taking "photo" trips 2 or 3 times every year.  I've been to some wonderful places...Banff and Jasper National Parks in Canada, Vancouver Island, also in Canada.  I've made several trips to Utah and Arizona, to Yellowstone twice, and the Grand Canyon.   And  don't forget the trips to New Mexico when Heather was in school at Roswell.  Every time I've come away with some wonderful images and some fantastic memories of the travels. 

In the fall of 2010 Judy and I signed up for a cruise to Alaska in May and June of 2011. The added bonus is that Rick Sammon, a photographer friend of mine, was conducting a photo workshop on the cruise.  We signed up, sent in our deposit, and started planning shore excursions.  I got the appropriate vacation time booked on the calendar at work and the wait began.  In November, it all fell apart.  First the workshop was cancelled due to lack of interest.  Then the entire cruise was cancelled by the cruise line.  This all left me wondering where I could go for a photo trip in lieu of the cruise so my mind started churning.

I've wanted to photograph the Palouse region of Washington State for a long time and the dates we had reserved for the cruise fell into the proper time frame for a trip there so I started the usual research I do before every trip.  I found a decent hotel in Colfax, WA, saw that I have Wells Fargo Rewards to make car rental nearly free, and looked into some websites of other photographers for information on locations and techniques for photographing the region.  Things were looking really good for a May trip to the Palouse and I was just a couple days away from pushing the button and making non-refundable reservations.

But wait!  Not so fast camera boy!  When Erin, Sean, and Katrina visited for Christmas the rumors that had been floating around were solidified.  Erin and Sean are planning their wedding in the fall, probably September, and while the budget for said event will be pretty sparse as weddings go, my discretionary funds for the year have pretty much been accounted for.  In short, no airlines, no hotels, no rental cars for photo trips.  Fortunately for me the news came before I'd committed to any trips and the subsequent reservations.  Whew!  Recently we learned that Erin has chosen Sedona, AZ as the venue for her nuptuals.  If you haven't been to Sedona, you can see my gallery of images from a trip there last November. Sedona gallery

So now I'm left with a bad news/great news situation.  The bad news is I won't be flying all over the western United States creating images this year.  The great news is I'll be attending my wonderful daughter's wedding inn a positively amazing location in September.  9-10-11 to be specific.  Some consolation prize, eh? 

And this doesn't mean I won't be taking any photo trips at all.  Heck, I've been lamenting for years that I live in one of the most photogenic states in the country yet my photo files contain precious few images of Colorado.  I see some car camping weekend trips in my future for 2011.  Great Sand Dunes anyone?  How about Rocky Mountain National Park?  And don't forget Crested Butte for wildflowers in July.  Who knows, I may still be able to swing a trip to the Palouse in May.  But instead of a "fly to Spokane, rent a car, drive to Pullman, and stay in a hotel" kind of trip it may morph into a "add a couple extra days of vacation, drive the Murano up there, and camp in the car" trip.  I'm working on logistics. 

So if any of you happen to be in the vicinity of Sedona on September 10, 2011, give me a call, shoot me an e-mail, or communicate some way and I'll buy you a cuppa coffee.

Better Lucky Than Good

This is the second in a series of essays from my old website.  First published in about 2003, this one still creeps me out a bit when I think about it.  Read and learn...

Better Lucky than Good

An old saying, maybe, but one that's all too frequently accurate as was displayed during my first trip to the desert in 1997. An incident that occurred while photographing in Lower Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona during a family vacation brought home to me the absolute truth of that saying..

The trip started innocently enough in Moab, Utah. It was my first photo excursion to the desert and I was a bit overwhelmed by all the subject matter I encountered the first morning in Arches National Park. I shot some film, had no clear idea what I should photograph first so it ended up being mostly documentary snapshots. A terrific reason to return someday. One day there then on to our next stop, Halls Crossing on Lake Powell where we had reserved a 3 bedroom trailer and speedboat for a day on the lake.

Lake Powell was all it was billed to be, Jewel of the Desert. The day dawned clear and sunny and after getting the once over on our rented powerboat we were off to explore with some water skiing also on the agenda. Got my first glimpse of some Anasazi dwellings, the Defiance House ruin in Forgotten Canyon. The lake was truly astounding, capturing my attention seemingly at every bend. I knew I'd be back to this place many times. A great day on the lake followed by a wonderful night's sleep and up the next morning on our way to the next destination, Page, Arizona.

One of the reasons I'd included Page as a stop on this trip was my desire to photograph Antelope Canyon, perhaps the most famous slot canyon of all. It is situated about 2 miles outside Page on the Navajo Tribal Lands and appears in countless television commercials, tons of print ads, and just about every existing brochure detailing the virtues of this area.

Those of you that know me know I'm a research junkie. When I'm planning a trip to a location I've never seen I spend countless hours on the internet trying to get an idea of what to expect. That way I can previsualize to a certain extent what I'm going to photograph. My reading on slot canyons kept referring back to one thing: "If there is rain anywhere within 30 miles of the canyon, GET OUT!!! These canyons are natural funnels for water and a flash flood is something you don't want to endure in this confined space."

Two miles outside of Page is the entrance to Antelope Canyon. On one side of the highway a Navajo concessionaire takes your money and shows you the entrance to Lower Antelope Canyon. On the other side of the highway a Navajo concessionaire from another clan takes your money and drives you to the entrance of Upper Antelope Canyon. I chose Lower, paid my $5 and headed down the first in a series of ladders that take you to the heart of this slot canyon 60 feet below the surface. I took a brief look before heading underground and saw that there were some clouds on the horizon but nothing immediately threatening.

Once I reached the bottom of the canyon, it was apparent that this photo experience would be all I ever hoped. There were no bad compositions and changing the angle of view changed everything. It was marvelous. I was in photographer's Heaven for at least a little while. After about an hour of shooting, I began to notice some sand falling on my head and equipment. Obviously the wind on the surface had picked up. Then I noticed that my exposures were getting longer and longer. A glance upwards showed me that it was getting cloudy above my head. Then I noticed that the other people in the canyon were rushing past on their way to the surface and I could hear someone above me shouting something but I couldn't make out the words. I kept thinking "just a few more exposures….I don't know when I'll get this chance again."

All of a sudden, the little man in my head started screaming…"Hey, it's cloudy on the surface….clouds equal rain….remember your research and get your dumb butt out of here." I packed up and started hustling to the surface noticing it was getting darker and darker. With about 3 ladders to go, I noticed raindrops starting to fall on me and increased my pace, finally climbing up the last pitch to the surface just as the sky opened up. I headed over to the parking lot where one of the other tourists asked if I'd seen the concessionaire or heard him shouting for me to get out of the canyon. I said no, but would go back to look for him. I met him after slogging through a torrential downpour to near where the first ladder was. He appeared happy to see me and said "didn't you hear me yelling for you to get out? If you'd been there 10 more minutes, we would have been fishing your body out of Lake Powell in the morning." I thought he was being overly dramatic until I could see the water blasting through the canyon below our feet. Everything I'd read was right….you DON'T want to be in a slot canyon when it's raining.

I made it out and got some marvelous shots, but 2 weeks later, a group of tourists and their guide got caught in the canyon during a rainstorm and were swept to their deaths. 2 years later one of the bodies had never been found, a terrible testament to the power of a flash flood in a slot canyon. Sometimes it's much better to be lucky than good.

Every Picture Tells a Story, Don't it?

My friend, Bret Edge, has a series running on his blog http://blog.bretedge.com/ where he is posting some of his favorite images of the past decade and giving the story behind the image.   I LOVE this idea and gave considerable thought to stealing the idea and still may, (though I'll wait a few months till all our common friends forget it and will think I'm a genius) but today at work I had a conversation with a co-worker that changed my mind.  We were discussing her screensaver picture of a cougar and I had the brilliant idea of posting some of my essays off my original website.  They were written before I started blogging but still have some pretty good content so with your permission, here is the first one.  Enjoy!

Every Picture Tells A Story, Don't it…

And mine are no exception. Take the Cougar series for example. I don't often have nightmares or dreams that wake me up in the night but when I do, they usually involve a cougar. We all have our phobias and that's mine. So when I was given the chance to photograph one of the cougars at the Prairie Wind Wildlife Refuge I gave it considerable thought before deciding to go for it.

The nights leading up to the weekend photo session were restless for the most part and as the time drew nearer I became more and more anxious. Was this thing going to eat me? Chew me beyond recognition? I'd seen deer and elk that were cougar kills and an illustration of a cat's power and ability. I've even seen a housecat kill a rabbit in one swift motion. The power per pound of these animals is awesome. It took all my will power and resolve to avoid picking up the phone and calling to cancel. But I was strong!

Saturday morning dawned clear and beautiful on the plains, the first rays of the sun lighting up the Front Range in my rear view mirror on the drive. That served to calm me a bit, but I was still more nervous than I'd been in a while. The orientation speech Michael gave did little to bolster my confidence. "Whatever you do don't run or show any signs of fear. These maybe pets but they're still wild animals." That's code for "they will kill and eat you if you're not careful."

Okay, done with the speeches, tripods and lenses set up, film loaded, and my shooting site selected. The cat is released by one of Michael's assistants and comes over the hill about 100 yards away headed for Michael and the tidbits of meat he offers as incentive to behave. Right away I notice that the beast seems to be fixated on me. His eyes meet mine over the distance and I immediately look away. ("….don't make eye contact, they think it's a challenge.") The cat, Cheyenne, lopes up to me then walks in a slow circle around me giving me the once over. "Relax" Michael says, "he just likes your deodorant." (which by now has failed miserably)

Finally after 10 seconds which seemed like 10 minutes, the cat comes closer and drags his tongue up the side of my head (taste test?) then plops down to rest about 5 feet from my camera. I could have tugged his tail if I'd been so inclined. Check out the Critters portfolio and you'll see the results.

Baby it's Cold Outside II

In Part 1 I talked about photographing in extreme cold weather conditions and mostly concentrated on keeping your most important piece of equipment, yourself, warm and comfortable.  When temps drop into single digits or negative numbers like my trip to Castlewood Canyon this morning, it's not just metal that suffers from fatigue and you can't concentrate on images when you're shivering.  I didn't talk much about camera gear though, hence Part 2.

Back in the day when camera bodies and lenses were all manually operated there were a lot of special problems you had to deal with.  Pro shooters knew that for extreme cold weather shooting you had to have your gear winterized.  Early in the season all their gear went to the repair shop of choice where they were tuned up and set up with special cold weather lubricants.  When you shoot for a living you can't afford to have equipment fail because of the cold.  When spring came around the stuff went back to the shop to be cleaned and set up with normal lubricants.  The only batteries they had to be concerned with were the ones that ran the metering systems and any pro worth his salt could function without a meter most of the time. 

What if a camera wasn't winterized you ask?  Well, many years ago I was visiting my wife's family in the Black Hills of South Dakota the week between Christmas and New Years. They live on a ranch near Sturgis and Deadwood in a beautiful little valley.  A beautiful little valley that gets beastly cold in the winter.  This particular winter was one of those times and for several days the temperature stayed below zero, at times approaching -30 degrees F.  Some folks say that when it gets below -10 you can't tell the difference but don't believe it.  Been there, done that.  Anyway, I went out one afternoon as the sun was setting to photograph the bluffs at the east end of their valley with my trusty 4X5.  Sparing you the details, I got the shot set up and pressed the cable release.  My Copal shutter set for 1/2 second should have been "cliick."  At -20 the shutter was more like "cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick."  Closer to 5 seconds than 1/2 second.  Problem?  No cold weather lubricants.  I stopped down a couple of stops and used the shutter on Bulb to get the shot.

But what about today's cameras?  Fewer moving parts and no spring loaded shutters to worry about but everything is run on batteries and as we all know, when the batteries are dead your camera turns into a $2000 paperweight.  So how can you avoid this?  Well, the pros spend mad cash on external battery packs.  They can have a cord running to the battery compartment from the external pack that resides inside their jacket.  Keeps the batteries warm and the camera functional.  No external pack?  No problem...make sure your batteries are fully charged and keep the spares in an inner pocket to stay warm.  If I'm walking a considerable distance between locations I'll even take the battery out of my camera and put it inside my jacket.  Keep in mind, at 10 degrees a fully charged fully functional battery will last about 70% less than it would on a nice sunny warm afternoon.

As far as lenses, if you're going to be doing a lot of cold weather shooting you may want to spend the extra money to have your repair shop install cold weather lubricants.  I'd hate like heck to pay for a workshop, travel to Yellowstone in the dead of winter, and find out my lenses won't autofocus in the cold.  If you've already spent thousands of dollars on said workshop then a couple hundred more to have your lenses conditioned won't matter and it just might save your trip.  A word of caution though....don't forget to have normal lubricants put back in before heading out for a summer shoot.  I've seen a lot of lenses with cold weather lube dripping out of them like water when the temps go up in summer.  Not a good thing.  If you decide to leave lenses as they are, consider using them on manual focus.  It will result in sharper images and save battery life.

Another thing to be aware of is taking gear from a warm vehicle to cold weather.  Condensation is NOT your friend.  Carry a lens cloth in an outside pocket where you can easily reach it and wipe the moisture off your lenses before they freeze.  Above all do NOT breathe on your lenses to clean them.  You'll be amazed at how quickly the moisture in your breath freezes when it's below zero.  Also you need to avoid the urge to carry a camera and lens inside your coat.  Once they cool down to ambient temperature leave them out until you're done shooting.  Otherwise you have to go through the condensation thing all over again.

Finally let's take a look at your tripod.  Is it carbon fiber or metal?  We all know that CF tripods are lighter and stronger than aluminium sticks but there's a major advantage to CF when the weather is cold.  It's not ideal to carry but CF will not suck the warmth out of your hands nearly as quickly as metal.  Next to losing heat through your head, carrying a metal tripod on a cold day is the next quickest way to lose body heat.  CF is a lot more efficient in this area but still cold.  Good gloves are paramount to keep your hands warm.  There are some companies out there that sell "sleeves" for tripods and many tripods including the Velbon El Carmagne and Induro brands insulate the legs with foam rubber grips.  Got a metal tripod and can't find the "sleeves?"  Simple...head on down to your local hardware big box store and pick up some foam pipe insulation and a roll of gaffers tape.  Bingo Bango, you got tripod sleeves made to order.

So there you have it, some tips on keeping you and your gear warm in extreme cold weather.  Got some other strategies?  Leave a comment and let's share best practices with everyone.