Small Town, Big Elevation, II
Once my body settled, it was time for more exploration.
First up was the Bluff Lake Reserve Loop. While it may be a short, easy trail, the visual payoff is absolutely worth it - especially when you slow down enough to notice the small, overlooked details. That is what this blog is about, after all.
A weathered fallen tree—affectionately nicknamed Mushu—rests across the forest floor, its twisted trunk and branches forming an almost dragon-like shape. In black and white, the deep grain, scars, and sculptural curves of the wood become even more pronounced.
© Edge of Clarity Photo | Elizabeth Chaney 2026
There was a beautiful mix of Jeffrey pines, white pines, and the famous Champion Lodgepole Pine - the largest and oldest known living lodgepole pine in California.
I’ve always been drawn to weathered wood and the strange forms hidden in granite. Early on, I encountered this gentle ancient sentinel, lying quietly along the trail with a lone little pine sapling jutting from what looked like its nose. It almost made you want to “boop” it.
A towering granite formation rises from the forest floor in black and white, its stacked, weathered layers forming an almost face-like shape. A tiny pine sapling grows from the upper left edge of the rock, creating a striking contrast between the massive stone and new life. Tall pines frame the background, reinforcing the sense of scale and quiet resilience. © Edge of Clarity Photo | Elizabeth Chaney 2026
In the past, I probably would have walked right by. This time, I gave myself permission to slow down. To notice. To appreciate all the different forms of strength, endurance, and resilience tucked quietly into nature.
My final full day, I explored Castle Rock Trail. Since it was warmer than usual, I started pretty early.
I will not lie—the beginning of the trail was a little chaotic. Once I found my bearings, though, it became a LOT easier to follow. I highly recommend downloading the map on AllTrails beforehand or carrying a physical map for navigation.
Ahem.
I may have let a couple of expletives loose at the beginning.
Once the gabions became more predictable, I climbed.
A black-and-white mountain trail winds through large granite boulders and dense pine trees. Near the center-right, a wire gabion filled with rocks helps stabilize the rugged terrain. A weathered, skeletal pine rises prominently in the middle of the scene, its pale branches contrasting sharply against the darker forest behind it. © Edge of Clarity Photo | Elizabeth Chaney 2026
And climbed.
Oh boy, did I climb.
Overall, it wasn’t an especially difficult hike, but the temperature was already rising, and the elevation definitely made itself known.
Along the way, piles of granite seemed to reveal themselves one by one. Patterned shadows. Anthropomorphic forms. Rough, weathered textures. Tiny signs of new life finding their way into spaces that looked inhospitable.
Strength and resilience, again.
Once I reached the granite peak, I paused.
I paused to take in the nearly 600 feet I had climbed at close to 7,500 feet in elevation. I paused for the view. I paused to recognize a little of that same resilience within myself.
I also ate a Nature’s Bakery Strawberry Fig Bar.
Balance.
#TrailSnacks
Once I made it back to my car, it was time to return to the cabin, cool down, and relax for a bit. After I refreshed, I headed back out for dinner.
I had decided on Tropicali, a fun Polynesian-themed restaurant hiding in plain sight in this small mountain town. If you love tiki, this place is absolutely worth considering.
You can spot it from the road by the giant shark-head entrance, which is, unsurprisingly, a very popular photo stop.
A giant open-mouthed shark forms the entrance to Tropicali, its rows of pointed teeth framing the walkway beneath. Photographed from a low angle at dusk, the oversized sculpture rises dramatically against the soft blue evening sky, giving the restaurant entrance a playful, larger-than-life tiki atmosphere. © Edge of Clarity Photo | Elizabeth Chaney 2026
But the real visual immersion starts once you walk through the doors.
You’re greeted by backlit neon Moai, and the waiting area is filled to the BRIM with tiki paraphernalia. I swear I probably spent almost as much time looking around and taking photos as I did eating.
A stylized hula woman is displayed on a tall illuminated panel inside Tropicali, framed by a vivid green neon border. Pink and purple light washes across the lower half of the artwork, while surrounding tiki decor and a potted cactus fade into the darker interior, creating a playful, retro Polynesian atmosphere. © Edge of Clarity Photo | Elizabeth Chaney 2026
The food was good too.
The music was excellent, and at one point I heard a rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” by The Electric Peanut Butter Company. Fleetwood Mac holds a special place in my soul, so that felt especially fitting.
Overall, Tropicali was a great experience: flavorful food, chill vibes, and visual surprises everywhere—even down to the tattoo flash wall in the bathrooms.
A wall of framed traditional tattoo flash fills the scene, featuring colorful vintage-style designs in bold reds, yellows, blues, and greens. Photographed at an angle, the repeating black frames recede into the distance, highlighting the dense collection of illustrated figures, symbols, and tiki-inspired motifs displayed throughout the restaurant. © Edge of Clarity Photo | Elizabeth Chaney 2026
Big Bear has been a bucket-list trip for a long time, and I’m grateful to finally have crossed it off.
Here’s to slowly and consistently fulfilling the dreams we keep tucked away.
Until then, may you always find something worth noticing.
~ Elizabeth
Small Town, Big Elevation, I
I'd made two New Year's resolutions at the beginning of this year. I didn't go for the usual "eat healthier" or "lose weight." I chose resolutions that enhance how I move through the world and experience it. The first was to allow myself to take up space, to be seen. The second was to become more of an active participant in my own life through new experiences. I'm slowly but surely checking off my bucket list items.
Cue... Big Bear.
If you can't tell already, I love trees. I'd always heard about Big Bear, but never went in my sixteen years of living in Southern California. It was a done deal: cottage booked, time-off request approved, and off I went.
I'm not sure about you, but I have fun winding around mountain roads. The scenery, the smell of the trees, how the air just feels cleaner, and occasionally stopping at viewpoints or pullouts to briefly take in the expansive views. There's something about intentionally pausing and just existing.
My trip was during the last full week of July. I pulled into the property where I'd booked my cottage and was surrounded by friends: Jeffrey pines. Sleepy Forest Cottages were peaceful, serene, and within close proximity to lots of activities—especially trails. I mean, the jetted tub inside the cottage was a perk too!
Since I was adjusting to the elevation, I eased into the trails with something easier.
It's golden hour, and I'm instantly greeted by Jeffrey pines and Sierra junipers. The juniper trees welcomed me with their skeletal branches bathed in warm golden light. Making my way through the Interpretive Trail, I began to notice nature herself winking at me: sun-bleached, swirling wood that looks like a swan leading the way; twisted, gnarled roots gesturing for me to move forward, to notice the smaller details waiting.
I found the feathery, curled seed tails of mountain mahogany, faces within an extreme close-up of Jeffrey pine bark, and even a resting guardian lying in wait to greet me.
As I began to complete my gentle journey, blue hour started to take hold of the sky and path. I paused near the viewpoint and witnessed a sky that looked as though it had been painted in watercolor, soft pinks and oranges descending over the mountains.
Step, step, step... don't trip on that rock!
One final pause before I finished: the full moon, peeking just over the mountains, hiding within the trees. Its warm light filtered through the dark night sky and silhouettes.
Hello, moon. Thank you for watching over me in those final moments... and providing enough light that I didn't trip over the rocks!
I made it back to my car and headed to the cottage, ready for the remaining adventures in Big Bear. To be continued. Until then, may you always find something worth noticing.
~Elizabeth
The Hoh Rainforest: Where Time Slows Down
One TikTok and I was hooked but wary. Of course my next step was heading to Google images, I needed to make sure what I was seeing was accurate. When researching the ancient forest I came across an interesting piece of information...It's famous for harboring the infamous "One Square Inch of Silence". I started to picture myself standing in the middle of the forest with no noise pollution, imagining what that sense of peace and calm felt like. Hook, Line and Sinker! I booked a flight and hotel for Forks, WA to visit the Hoh Rainforest in the Olympic National Forest.
Photos truly do not do the forest justice, yes I know - I am offering prints for sale, but the actual experience is one that I will never forget. Imagine starting the trail early before the crowds. The only company you have is your presence, the trees, moss and soft morning light filtering through the canopy. While exploring I felt...held. Held by the trees. The trees appeared to be more akin to guardians to me. They offered guidance, protection, peace and safety. I was physically alone but I felt the presence of the ancient trees with me, guiding me. This experience prompted me to look up. We've heard of the expression "keep your head down", except if you did that here, you'd miss the beauty of trees reaching hands out to guide and protect you. These trees have been present for thousands of years, they will continue to be a nurturing presence, even after I'm gone.
In this forest, I found myself slowing down, not rushing. The reward is in slowing down. In slowing down I found interwoven canopies, intricate root systems that felt alive, nurse logs that foster new growth within the forest, and I found a sense of awe and wonder. A forest is more than "just trees." It's a beautiful symbiotic relationship where everything depends on something else. This forest deepened the relationship with myself. This was an intentional solo birthday trip to be present and enjoy life.
Held by Giants
Where Giants Gather
I previously mentioned that the photos, the photos do not do this forest justice, but... my goal in these prints is to recreate the sense of awe, magnitude and presence that the forest offers. In Ancient Witness, the grand scale of the trees cause me to slow down, to appreciate my presence on Earth. Where Giants Gather allowed my child-like imagination to come alive again, I see two ancient Giants embracing each other. Mother Nature provides us with the guide, it's up to us to follow it. The Hoh Rainforest wasn't "just a forest". It was a place where I allowed myself to slow down, nurture my soul, and it changed me just a little — in a good way. If you'd like to bring a little of that feeling home, you can explore the Hoh Rainforest collection below.
May you always find something worth noticing.
—Elizabeth | Edge of Clarity Photo
Between Starlight and Sunrise
The alarm goes off at 2AM on a cool SoCal morning in late spring. I sip my coffee as I start to wake up and prepare for the morning ahead. My CamelBak is full of water, snacks, and extra batteries for my headlamp as I make my way to the car and begin the drive out to Julian. The moon was a waxing crescent as I made my way through the dark, winding backcountry roads. I arrived at the campground parking lot around 4AM. I'd never seen the Milky Way before, so I took a moment after parking to look up. I was in good fortune, because there she was - the Milky Way, right in front of me. I smiled as I took in the beauty before starting my climb. With my headlamp on and spare batteries in my pocket, I began.
Milky Way night sky with silhouetted trees in Julian, CA. Photo by ©Elizabeth Chaney | Edge of Clarity Photo
It was pitch black and silent on the trail. Chasing sunlight in solitude may not be for everyone, but in this moment, it was exactly what I needed. Dirt and rock crunched beneath my feet as I climbed, desert chaparral surrounding me on every side. Even though I was alone, I felt safe being surrounded by the trees and rock. Step by step, crunch by crunch, I progressed as the stars and trees protected and guided me. About halfway through the switchbacks, the sun started to make its presence known, a warm orange glow beginning to wake the sleepy town below.
I'd reached the start of the granite scramble to the summit. I was almost there. My steady pace had brought me to this moment. Carefully, I climbed the final ascent as the orange hues deepened and the sun began to crest over a distant mountain. I'd made it to the summit.
It was breathtaking...and, at the same time, terrifying.
I'd just learned two things about myself: that I'm stronger than I realize, and that I don't do well with narrow summits with sheer drop-offs! It's okay to laugh with me—I had never been on a summit like that before. I don't regret the experience. I took a few moments to soak in the view, calm my nerves, and then began my climb back down. In full daylight, I was finally able to see exactly how beautiful the trail truly was. I could see the granite formations that looked alive, tree canopies welcoming me back from my journey. If anything, mile three took the longest because I kept stopping to explore everything it offered. I found rock formations that changed the longer I looked, a sleeping stone giant at the turn of a switchback, and winding paths that invited even more exploration.
Granite stone profile at the end of a switchback trail at Cush-Pii in Julian, CA | Photo by ©Elizabeth Chaney | Edge of Clarity
The photographs I made naturally found homes within my Nature's Architecture, The Gray Area, and upcoming Suspended in Time collections. These are the moments I'm drawn to...the moments where we stop to pause, to explore, to be present, and to play.
Cush-pii (formerly known as Stonewall Peak) taught me that when we slow down, we're more open to the messages Mother Nature gives us. We can complete a trail, but how often do we truly slow down enough to experience it? I hope the next time you step onto a trail, you give yourself permission to slow down. Notice what asks for your attention. Stay a little longer than you planned. Then come back and tell me what changed - whether it was the landscape, or simply the way you experienced it.
May you always find something worth noticing.
—Elizabeth | Edge of Clarity Photo
Welcome to Edge of Clarity
Join me on the stories of the trails and the stories behind the photos.
If you've found your way here, welcome.
Edge of Clarity began with a simple realization: some of the most meaningful moments happen when we slow down enough to notice them.
For me, that often happens on a trail before sunrise, standing among trees, watching fog drift through a canyon, or finding unexpected beauty in a flower that most people would walk past.
Photography became a way to hold onto those moments a little longer.
This isn't a blog about photography gear, camera settings, or chasing the perfect image.
It's a place to share the stories behind the photographs, the trails that led to them, and the moments that made me stop and pay attention.
You'll find reflections from local hikes, behind-the-scenes looks at images that eventually become prints, and thoughts on the connection between nature, curiosity, and the quiet moments that often go unnoticed.
Nature has a way of reminding me to slow down, breathe, and pay attention to what's right in front of me. My hope is that these photographs and stories encourage others to do the same.
Thanks for being here.
— Elizabeth