Oh Those Goofy Photographers

It's no secret, as much as I despise crowds I also derive great enjoyment from observing the Human Condition.  And whenever you get a group of people together it's almost a certainty that there will be some goofy things going on.  The kind of goofy things that make you go "Hmmmmmmm..."  Sadly, photographers are no exception.

Don't get me wrong, the group of Rocky Mountain Nature Photographers I spent Saturday with is a great group of folks.  I enjoyed myself more than I have on a photo trip in a long time and I didn't observe anything strange though I'm sure there are as many eccentrics  in that group as the general population with me leading the way.  For the time I was around them, all parties were well behaved and rational.

I can't say the same about every photographer I encountered this weekend though, especially some of the ones I saw at Delicate Arch.  There were some really "interesting" folks both on the trail and at the Arch and I spent time alternating between chuckling and just shaking my head. 

As I stated in a previous blog I knew the opportunity to make world class images of Delicate Arch wasn't going to happen on Sunday afternoon.  It was overcast and really windy so the light would be flat and there would be little or no chance to steady a camera in the gale force winds.  With this in mind I left the backpack and big tripod in the car and started up the trail with my G10 in it's belt pouch and carrying my little Induro tripod.  The light was going to be flat and ugly (witness the image above) so there was no logical reason to drag 25 pounds of gear up 1 1/2 miles of slickrock.  Besides, the G10 is a great little camera and capable of producing some fantastic images so I was covered in the event of a miracle. 

Going up the trail I saw all the expected things.  Tourists with movie cameras running ahead of their group then stopping to film them coming up the trail.  There were the usual array of people both young and old photographing the scenery with their smart phones.  And one older gentleman who had an array of gear like I've never seen.  He had a large photo backpack on his back with a camelback water bladder strapped to one side of it.  On the other side he had a HUGE tripod and massive ballhead which together probably weighed close to 12 or 15 pounds.  In front he had a large padded lens case capable of holding a camera with a large telephoto lens and since I saw a trunk case for a 300mm lens in the back of his truck I have to assume he was toting that lens in the big case.  Though I don't know what he had in his backpack, with the water, the big lens, mongo tripod, and everything else I bet he had 35 or 40 pounds of gear strapped on his torso.  To carry that much gear up a moderately difficult trail on a day when it's going to be impossible to make a pro quality image is something that baffles me.  God bless you, brother.  I'm glad it was you toting the stuff and not me. 

The strangest thing about him, though, is that he carried that bigass tripod all the way up the hill and never opened it up.  I was there for an hour or more and I never once saw him shoot something that wasn't handheld, a lot of it with a big heavy lens, probably an 80-200 f2.8.  He may have been shooting wide open to increase his shutter speeds but in the low light conditions with the wind blowing at gale force, there is no possible way his images could have been sharp.  Things that make you go "Hmmmmmmmm..."

During my time at Delicate Arch I saw the usual suspects hiking down to have their picture taken standing under the arch and there was even one guy laying on his back with his camera pointing up at the arch.  The first and only other time I was at Delicate Arch, any time someone walked near the arch they were met with a chorus of "Get out of there...you're spoiling my shot" from the photographers up on the rim.  This time, though, we all just looked at each other and grinned.  What the heck...the folks down there under the Arch paid their $10 bucks just like I did and most of them are tourists from another country.  They most likely will never see this site again so let em get their pictures to show the friends when they get back wherever home is.

But by far the oddest duck of the day was a young man with a shiny new Lowe Pro backpack chock full of camera gear.  There I was, holding onto my tripod mounted G10 to avoid having it blown off the hill (have I mentioned the wind was blowing pretty hard?) when suddenly I hear someone fire off 9 frames with the drive on their camera on full auto Shake and Bake mode.  9 frames in about 2 seconds.  Having done that before I assumed that he had merely forgotten to take his camera off motor drive after shooting some wildlife but NO!  He moved a few steps to the right and did the same thing.  Again, handheld camera and big lens. At this point I draw the conclusion that he's bracketing exposures which is something that I don't usually do but I know a lot of photographers that bracket everything.  But wait...it gets better!  A few minutes later the same young man hops up on a ledge fully exposed to the wind (I hate being redundant but I swear, it was probably blowing 40 mph gusting to 50 or 60mph) and triggers his motor drive again.  This time, though, he turns at the waist, panning about 140 degrees from left to right.  Shooting frames for a panorama? 

Keep in mind, some of the photographers I hang out with are gearheads of the highest order.  My friend Rich paid big bucks for a special head called Nodal Ninja that allows you to precisely calibrate multiple exposures for stitching together as a panorama.  One of the photographers I was with on Saturday had a special device built to allow her to shoot time lapse panoramic images.  Now here this goof is trying to be his own panoramic head when you can see him swaying in the wind.  There is absolutely no way he could have possibly gotten sharp images that way.  Combine the wind with the movement of the camera while he was twisting his body and it's a physical impossibility.  I was tempted to ask him what he was doing but I couldn't figure out a way to ask that wouldn't sound like I was patronizing him or being condescending.  Sure made me go "Hmmmm..." though. 

What's your goofiest photography trick?  You show me yours and I'll show you mine!  Leave a comment and lets have some fun.

A New Beginning (and a new bucket)

It was a dark and stormy.....Nah, that one's been taken.
It was the best of times, it was the worst....Nah, that one's taken too.  Wait...I've got it!  Try this one...

It was windy and overcast when I started up the trail to Delicate Arch.  Yeah!  That's it!  A great new beginning.  And a very incongruous statement for a couple of different reasons.  First, the clouds were building in the west and I knew there was not going to be epic light on the arch.  Normally I would have bagged it and headed back to the hot tub at the hotel. 

Second, I have been to Delicate Arch before.  I knew it was 1 1/2 miles uphill to get there and it was going to be a tough hike for me.   I knew because I'd had tremendous trouble with the Klondike Bluffs trail the day before.  The first pitch of that trail was more difficult than the Delicate Arch trail.  It was very steep and involved a lot of steps up, not just going uphill over slickrock.  By the time I got to the first ridge I was gasping for breath, my knees and thighs were aching, and I was probably 1/4 mile behind Bret and Scott in the first 10 minutes.  I saw the trail start downhill and knew I could probably make it down there but if I did someone would end up carrying my happy butt out of there cause I'd never make it back up.  Too many cheeseburgers, circus animal frosted cookies, and nachos finally caught up with me. 

I stayed on the ridge and found some pretty decent images so all was not lost.  After making my way down the hill in the semi darkness after sunset I was at the trailhead talking to a few others in the group of RMNP folks that had come to Moab for the weekend.  That's when my new friend/photographer buddy Tim uttered the most prophetic statement I've heard in a long time.  We were talking about another get together in Moab next spring and discussing the trouble we'd had keeping up with the others going up the hill and he said "I look at this as a beginning...when we get back here next year I'm going to be in shape to keep up and this is the beginning of that process."  Thank you, Tim, for shining the light into my brain.

I came to Moab this weekend ostensibly to hang out with friends and create some great new images and both of those things happened.  But there was a disturbance in the force...something else occupying my thoughts.  You see, 10 days ago I was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  Don't be alarmed...my Urologist has assured me that this cancer won't kill me.  I may die with prostate cancer but I won't die OF prostate cancer.  Nevertheless, the "C" word is a sobering thing and I came here to spend some time alone after all the other photographers headed home Sunday morning.  I spent the day deep in thought, trying to decide what to do for the rest of the day and, more importantly, the rest of my life.

While heading back to Moab from Onion Creek I started thinking about what Tim had said and as if someone had turned on a light bulb in my brain I had The Epiphany!  Driving down the Colorado River towards Moab I came across some kayakers taking turns surfing a wave in the river and they were having such a grand time I figured that Kayaking should be added to my new bucket list.  It was lunch time so I stopped to watch them while I ate and that's when it hit me...this disease isn't an end to anything...it's a beginning to the rest of my life.  Then the revised bucket list and watershed events in my life started to bombard my senses.  Here's what I came up with.
First, the critical events of this year: 


1.  In November I turn 60.  That's 6/10's of a century!  Damn, no wonder I'm starting to fall apart.  My cardio vascular capacity is pathetic.  My muscle tone is deplorable.  In short, I'm a physical mess.

2.  My eldest child is getting married in September.  It's going to be a glorious event and I'm really looking forward to it. 

3.  I've made it to the 10th year of employment with my current employer and got that extra week of vacation!  Whooooo hoooooo

4.  Yes, I do have prostate cancer and something needs to be done.  I have some decisions to make

So with those things in mind, I'm going to have to come up with a new bucket list.  I'll let you know when it's ready for release but rest assured, #1 and #2 will be to get this cancer cured and get in better shape.  And that's what made me decide to make the trip to Delicate Arch despite knowing how much difficulty I was going to have.  I made it to the top and it was a lung busting bitch.  But I had to do this you see. This is the New Beginning.

Photographers: They say (and do) the funniest things

This image doesn't have a lot to do with the following blog entry but it's one of my favorites and I haven't yet taken an African safari so my stock of elephant photos is sadly lacking.  But I have seen and read some things today that bother me a little bit and I always like to share so here goes.

There's a lot of hoopla going around the web right now about GoDaddy CEO Bob Parsons posting a video of him shooting an elephant.  Of course the folks at PETA have chimed in and some other animal rights groups are suitably outraged and I suppose that's all well and good.  Every adult is entitled to their own opinion and if it is different than mine it doesn't really matter.  I don't expect to agree with everyone nor do I get distraught when everyone doesn't agree with me.

For the record, I couldn't care less about Mr. Parsons shooting an elephant.  If he has the money and it's not illegal, more power to him.  Last I heard, elephants weren't on any one's endangered species list.  Furthermore, there is evidence that the elephant in question was doing a great deal of damage to a small village's crops but I'm not here to debate that.  You can find all the information and more by doing a google search and form your own opinion.  I promise I won't ridicule you or respect you less regardless of what that opinion is.

What I saw today that raised my eyebrow was the reaction from the photographic community of which I consider myself a member.  The outrage and vitriol was far beyond what I'd expected to see.  One of the photographic bulletin boards I watch from time to time had a thread that, unless I miss my guess, will soon have photographers calling for Mr. Parsons to be drawn and quartered.  I'm not surprised that there was some reaction, photographers are some pretty sensitive folks for the most part.  I was, however, a bit stunned at first by the vehemence of the opinions.  Then I thought about some of the photographic sensitivity I've experienced in the past and I got a big bite of the reality sandwich.  There are 2 incidents that I've been involved with in the past that should have tempered my surprise...listen and learn.

I mentioned earlier that I watch some photographic bulletin boards online.  One of the boards, Nature Photographers Network, was a source for my first experience with the depth of feeling that some photographers have for the environment.  One of the threads was bemoaning the loss of Glen Canyon which occurred in the 1960's when the Glen Canyon dam was built on the Colorado  River creating Lake Powell.  I was just back from a houseboat trip to Lake Powell which might not have been my favorite vacation ever but is certainly top 3, and being new to the game of online bulletin boards I chimed in with my thoughts that Lake Powell was truly the Jewel of the Desert and a wonderful resource.  I added that though I would love to have seen Glen Canyon before the dam, I really felt the resulting lake is a beautiful and wondrous place. I was immediately assailed by one of the photographers on the board who dismissed my knowledge, credibility, and even my humanity for espousing such an opinion.  By stating that I enjoyed the lake I had established my credentials as a cretin of the first order.  I conducted a private e-mail exchange with the other photographer and after we both expressed our views in a much more civil manner we agreed that we will always disagree on this matter and moved on.  To this day his images and soulful essays are an inspiration to me and someday I hope I'll have the chance to buy him a cold adult beverage and discuss photography.

The second time was much more amusing because I didn't start the fireworks but was around to witness the effects of some simple differences in philosophies.  A few years ago I was at a photo seminar put on by Outdoor Photographer magazine here in Denver.  The format was to bring in 2 prominent photographers to give presentations of their work over the course of a weekend.  The first day of the seminar was conducted by David Stoecklein.  David is a wonderful photographer and if you have ever eaten at a Black Angus Steak House you've seen his work.  He is famous primarily for his images of horses and cowboys but he's also a very successful commercial photographer and part of his presentation was centered around advertising photography and some of the tricks of the trade of a working commercial shooter.

Keep in mind, there were between 100 and 150 people attending this seminar, all lured there in the hopes of learning the magic behind David's horse images and make no mistake, there was plenty of that to go around.  But he also spent some time before the lunch break talking about how he had created some of the advertising images in his portfolio.  When he came to an image he'd shot for Jeep things began to get interesting.  It was an image of a Jeep Grand Cherokee sitting on top of a seemingly impossible to climb mountaintop.  In his narrative describing the image he disclosed that (paraphrasing) "...we had to go up and cut down about 6 trees so the helicopter could set the Jeep down on top of  the hill..."  With that disclosure there was an almost audible gasp from the audience.  Six trees destroyed?  A helicopter to put the Jeep in place?  To a group of self described Nature Photographers this was akin to blasphemy.  And the amusing part?  After the lunch break, a meeting room that had been nearly filled to capacity before David's unfortunate utterance was half empty for the afternoon session. 

Yep, photographers are a sensitive bunch.  I shouldn't have been surprised.

Beisbol been berry berry good to me

There's a scene in the movie City Slickers where the 3 main characters are discussing their best day ever.  Billy Crystal's character describes his first experience attending a ballgame at Yankee Stadium with his father.  He talks about walking out of the tunnel and seeing the grass so green it nearly blinds you, the smell of cigar smoke, and how good the hot dogs tasted.  I've never been to a game at Yankee Stadium but I can relate to those feelings. 

When I was a young Bean Sprout, probably 9 or 10 years old, I can't remember exactly, my Dad loaded the family in the car and headed north to Kansas City where the Athletics were hosting the Yankees for a weekend series.  I know, I know, the A's are in Oakland now but they were originally in Kansas City.  I remember that we dropped my Mom and sisters off in downtown KC to do some shopping while Dad and I went to the game.  As nearly as I can recall it was very similar to the scene described by Billy Crystal.  What I do remember is that Mickey hit one out, Yogi hit one out, and it was the grandest sports experience of my young life.  I'd become a Yankees fan at a very early age at the insistence of Grandma Suzie who was a rabid baseball fan and I guess it rubbed off.  We were Yankee fans because of Mickey Mantle who was from Oklahoma as were my parents and Grandma.  I had no choice.  I'm still a Yankee fan, mostly because there are no other American League teams that strike my fancy and if I ever cheered for another AL team Grandma would be spinning in her grave. 

But I live in Colorado now and Colorado has the Rockies.  It's Spring Training time, 9 days till Opening Day, and I'm starting to get that old tingle.  In March, every team is a contender for the pennant, there are no losers and hope springs eternal.  Tulo and Cargo have both been signed to long term contracts, Ubaldo has 3 years left on his contract, and Todd Terrific appears to be back in form so those of us in Rockies land are very optimistic.  It's going to be a good year at Coors Field and before too long I'll be jumping on the Light Rail to Union Station then walking the 3 blocks to the ballpark.  When I walk up the stairs and onto the concourse in the left field corner the grass will be so green it will nearly blind me.  There won't be any cigar smoke but I'll definitely be assailed by the smells of cheese steak sammies, popcorn, roasted peanuts, and the hot dogs will taste better than a $25 steak.  With any luck I'll be surrounded by good friends and we'll have good conversation during the game.  I missed Spring Training this year but when I hear the crack of the bat and see Cargo park one in the second deck in right field, it won't matter. 

Is it too early to buy tickets for a Rockies/Yankees World Series?  PLAY BALL!

A Shot in the Dark

It's no secret, I'm a research junkie.  When I'm headed to a new location I spend countless hours online looking at Google Earth and Bing Maps.  I look at every image I can find of the place where I'm headed.  Usually I know what sort of conditions and subject matter I'll find before I get there and I'm rarely, if ever, surprised by what I find.  So how is it that this, one of my favorite images, came from a location I had never scouted, never researched, and never seen?  Pure Unadulterated Dumb luck!  Settle in and I'll explain.

This is an image of what I call "The Other Bear Lake."  Pretty much every photographer in Colorado knows about Bear Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park and there are always plenty of images cruising around the web of that Bear Lake.  But this is a different Bear Lake.  Yes, it's in Colorado but about 150 miles south of RMNP.  It's off the Highway of Legends between the town of Cuchara and Cuchara Pass. 

When Heather started college at Eastern New Mexico University in Roswell, we spent a lot of time traveling between Parker and Roswell.  In August of her second year, after dropping her off for the school year, Judy and I headed home and spent a night in Taos along the way.  We headed north out of Taos and came into Colorado via the San Luis Valley then across LaVeta Pass to Walsenburg where we hit I-25.  Along the way I noticed some large stands of aspens near the summit of LaVeta Pass and after a few years of going to Crested Butte every September to photograph the changing aspens I thought it might be time for a change.  I made a mental note that this area might be a nice change and a few weeks later when it was aspen time I made the decision to head south instead of west.

The extent of my research was the trip over LaVeta Pass and a few minutes online to book a cheap motel on the outskirts of Walsenburg.  I packed my gear and left work Friday night headed south for the 2 hour drive to Walsenburg.  It was dark when I got to the hotel and dark in the morning when I left for LaVeta Pass and some of the aspen groves I'd seen weeks before.  And that's where the evil Bill took over.

I don't know what I was thinking.  I have no rational explanation for it and probably never will.  My plan was to head up LaVeta Pass and spend some time shooting in one of the huge groves of aspens but when I got to the summit of the pass the truck just kept on going as if it had a mind of it's own.  Over LaVeta Pass, turn south at the town of LaVeta, and keep going south through the small town of Cuchara.  A couple of miles south of Cuchara I saw a sign pointing up a dirt road that said Bear Lake 4 miles.  At that point the truck made a quick right turn and I was off to Bear Lake. 

Now keep in mind, it was still as dark as the inside of a coal bin at midnight.  The only things I could see were trees and bushes illuminated by my headlights but I kept on driving, undaunted, towards Bear Lake.  All the time the good Bill and the evil Bill were arguing:  "Why didn't you stop on the pass, moron?  At least we know there are aspens there."  "Shut up and drive...where's your sense of adventure?"  "Yeah, but there may not even be aspens up here...all I see are pine and spruce trees."  "Show some backbone and drive...if it doesn't work out we can go to LaVeta Pass for sunset...nobody likes a whiner!"

On we went...and about 3 miles up the road a strange thing happened:  the pines and spruces gave way to aspens.  Old growth aspens!  This might actually be okay.  When I finally arrived at the parking area for Bear Lake the eastern sky was just starting lighten as it does in the 30 or 45 minutes before dawn.  I could vaguely make out the surface of the lake down the hill from where I was parked.  Then reality set in.  I had no idea if there would be any decent compositions, no clue if there were any aspens around the lake, and the cloud bank I could barely make out near the horizon was probably going to block any sunlight and make dawn a dreary boring thing.  I berated myself for breaking tradition and flying blind into this area and feeling pretty down I grabbed my tripod and backpack and headed for the lake shore.  I was here, there was no time to make it back to LaVeta Pass before sunrise, so I might as well take my lemons and make some lemonade.  What the heck...if the light is grey and flat I can shoot some intimate landscapes in the forest.

The rest is history.  I got my camera and lens on the tripod, walked a few yards up and down the shoreline to find a suitable composition, and started thinking about finding some colorful leaves to photograph when this fiasco was over.  And then the magic happened.....the cloud bank started to break up into mini clouds and the sun started tinging the edges of the clouds with pink.  The slight breeze that had been rippling the surface of the lake stopped.  Everything was dead calm and the sky exploded with color.  Amazing!  And the image at the top of this blog is the result.  A case of pure dumb luck putting me in the right place at the right time. 

I spent the next 3 or 4 hours shooting and came away with one of the most successful aspen shoots I've had in years.   Was I lucky? You bet your behind I was...but I'll take luck like this any day.  

Every Picture is a Jelly Donut

Pardon my poetic license with the title of an old Rod Stewart song (Every Picture Tells a Story, Don't It?) but we all change lyrics from time to time in order to make them fit the situation. In this case, though, I'm pretty sure the picture doesn't tell it all.

What you need to know is that the truck in the picture was traveling from right to left when the driver lost control. The vehicle left the roadway, crashed through the guardrail , hit the culvert, flipped end over end, and came to rest facing in the opposite direction. The good news is that the 22 year old driver and his 18 year old passenger walked away with minor bruises and abrasions. (seat belts really do work!)

First thought is "Holy crap! What a terrible wreck!" followed by relief that the occupants of the vehicle were okay. But as Paul Harvey says: "And now...the rest of the story!"

Special thanks to my friend Amie Isban for e-mailing this to me and as she said: 

If God isn't done with you, He isn't done with you.

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.