The little studio or darkroom video tour was his second location in the Shasta area. You can see through his windows the rolly-polly volcanic terrain with scattered jack pines characteristic of that area, and not flat farm land and soggy bottomland. He formerly lived in Modesto, and many of the pictures in his book, Two Hearted Oak were taken near there in the Valley with its infamous Winter tule fog. To get the right light, he had to hazard driving through fog at less than ideal hours. It can be awfully spooky hardly seeing the front of your car when someone comes whizzing by far above the speed limit. There have been pileups of over 200 vehicles in such conditions.
I always timed crossing the Valley either before the fog set in late at night; and then I'd return taking a long slow drive in the morning well above the fog, typically following Hwy 49 in the Gold Country and doing some shooting, and only dropping down to the Valley floor when the fog began lifting around noon or so. I asked him how he felt about the fog, and he replied that it scared the heck out of him too; and he was glad he left the area. Tule fog is cold, clammy, and oppressive - much different from our soft enveloping coastal fog in the Bay Area. But if you time it right, it can give lovely natural softbox lighting out on the farmlands and orchards.
It has always amazed me how many people go whizzing down the main highways in a rush to get to Yosemite Valley or some ski resort, and have never taken time to explore the many intervening farm roads and hill country routes with their own wonderful sights. Soon it will be almond blossom time again.
Those giant Valley Oaks, or what we'd call Water Oaks, are basically riparian, along the river channels. I had a 350 year old one leaning over a spring, which had witnessed many generations of Indians there. When it finally fell, it was like losing an old friend. That's when I counted the rings.