A funny thing struck me when I was looking through a book called “Diablo Shadows” by Robert Pease and William Hockins. The volume of photos, published in 1998, is a “visual collection of the grandeur of the Diablo-San Ramon Valley,” and many of the scenes show Mount Diablo with a blanket of snow. Folks unfamiliar with the area would think Mount D is covered with snow all winter rather than, oh, about five hours a year. One photo of snow on Mount Diablo in 1982 was taken from El Pintado Road, another from the Woodbine subdivision. Snow on Mount Diablo, 1976, is labeled a “dusting of snow” and is photographed from Diablo Road. It even snowed downtown in 1976, as documented by a scene at the corner of Hartz and Prospect. Other photos show snowfalls in 1992 and 1956.
There’s something about snow in the Bay Area that makes us pull out our cameras. I once wrote a story about a Prairie Style home built in 1916. The young couple who had purchased the home were thrilled to find a photo taken in 1928 showing the front of the house in its original condition – and covered with snow.
“Diablo Shadows” was photographed by Bill Hockins, 83, a longtime resident of Alamo. He didn’t just pull out his camera when it snowed – he has taken more than 50,000 photos in his 50-plus years of living here. The magical thing about his photos of snow on Mount Diablo is the contrast between the snow on the mountains and the vivid green hillsides in the foreground. One photo was shot from behind rust-colored weeds with an oak branch framing the scene. No wonder the artistic eye of a photographer compels him to record the beautiful vista.
I visited Hockins last week to learn more about old-time Danville, when he was the only insurance agent in town, and he loaned me the book, which sells for $50. He and his wife Hazel live in the home they built 42 years ago on the 13th hole of the golf course of the Round Hill Country Club when it was just being developed. In their living room hangs a panoramic photograph of Mount Diablo, her peak red, with shadows in the foreground and black, flocked clouds overhead. Bill recalls pulling over on the highway to take that one and having a police officer unceremoniously tell him to get moving.
Hockins is a photo artist. He discovered this vocation when he was in the sixth grade; he started a group called Photo Bugs and set up a darkroom in his parents’ basement. In college he paid his bills shooting weddings and children’s portraits. Later he was pleased to discover that the insurance business gave him the freedom to pursue his “true love” – capturing the San Ramon Valley on film.
The town of Danville has commissioned Hockins to record his photos digitally to be made available through the public library. He is also putting some of his photos on 350-piece, 12-by-16-inch wooden puzzles, including some of Half Dome and of the Golden Gate Bridge. But other scenes are local – the old train depot when it was Danville Feed and Supply in 1955; Oak Hill Park duck pond at dawn; a Mount Diablo sunset. And, of course, my favorite, Mount Diablo with a mantle of snow, taken in 1982 and framed by the limb of an oak tree. For more information, visit www.fototopia.com or e-mail whockins@sbcglobal.net.
“Diablo Shadows” also has old-time photos that serve as a history lesson. But those by Hockins are breathtaking, capturing nature’s everyday drama of sunsets, sunrises, clouds and fog. Since spending a mesmerizing hour looking through the book, I have been viewing the scenery around here with fresh eyes. The clouds around the hills, both east and west. The spread of oak branches outlined against the sky, and the canopy of trees on parts of Danville Boulevard. I’ve been trying to catch Mount Diablo with the pink hue of the setting sun each evening. Now I’m looking forward to the changes in season to capture, if not with a camera, in my mind the beauty that nature brings to our lovely area. Thank you, Bill, for opening my eyes.
