The Story Behind The Photograph - Shanty Hollow Morning

Almost every photograph I share has a story behind it. When I take time to browse through them, the memories associated with the moments leading up to their capture often will refill my thoughts with pleasant apparitions. With few exceptions, those memories reflect a sense of nostalgia from times past when moment, preparation, and opportunity combine to create an extraordinary photographic event.

As the second installment of 'The Story Behind the Photograph', we will take a look at one of the most remarkable photo adventure events I've experienced in recent years. This one I call,  'Shanty Hollow Morning'.

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The weight of my Old Town Camper canoe pressed heavy across my shoulders as, long before daylight, I slid it off the rack atop my Jeep to have it settle across my collar, balanced precariously between tipping and riding on an even keel. As I carried the canoe and slowly spun toward the water, the ambient light shimmered across the surface of the straight edge smooth lake and stars suspended themselves in a bowl-like ebony-laced arch high above in the clear morning air.

I always find it comforting in a way to hear again the familiar hollow sound a canoe makes when you lift it off your shoulders, gently flip it upright, and lay it on the water along the edge of a small lake. There is no other sound in nature, especially early of a morning, no other familiar movement that can compare. You feel blessed in a way, for this simple action generates a life long memory so ingrained into your mind it far exceeds the ordinary act used to create it. So it was, again, on this Kentucky morning filled with anticipation of what might come.

Even though summer was deep within its realm, the morning air was damp and unseasonably cool. Indeed, summer mornings in Kentucky offer a canoer/photographer some of the best conditions one can hope for with calm winds and layers of mood enhancing fog. As a photographer conditions like these provide excellent opportunities to capture exceptional moments. They also provide moments of soul heeling we sometimes require.

Leading up to this morning, I found myself caught in what seemed liked a perpetually high level of work related stress. A moment alone with nature was something my mind and body craved from within their deepest reserves for those reserves were depleted to the point of exhaustion. They required a day afield to replenish the low energy levels. As I stood next to the canoe in the pre-dawn light, the heeling process was already at work. Within a few moments, my gear was loaded, and I gently shoved away.

Paddling a canoe under a dark sky creates an odd sensation of movement without feeling like you are moving. The sky hovers motionless, the water appears black and seems to stand vacant and empty around you, yet you feel the canoe gently surge forward with each stroke of the paddle.

The ambient light was bright enough so the surrounding hills formed a strong silhouette against its glow and slowly with each movement of the paddle, those hills rolled behind me. It took about a half hour to reach the upper end of the lake where it arched east and west to form a hammer shaped head. I paddled a short distant to the west toward the dam, then spun the canoe around to face what would soon be a rising sun. 

I attached a wide angle lens, then made a preliminary adjustment of the field of view to include the front half of the canoe, then simply drifted for the next twenty minutes or so, making subtle adjustments with the paddle, absorbing the quiet, relaxing my inner self. In time the sky grew brighter and with the slow ascent of the still hidden sun, the thin blanket of fog began to stir, moving almost ghost-like across, then lift from the surface of the lake. I am always amazed at how nature creates its own path. The coolness of the air combined with the warmer water to generate a dancing fog so light, so airy, the slightest puff of air alters its course which catches the subtle rays of light in ever changing subtleties. As the fog rose higher, a larger cloud lifted above the tree line on the far side of the lake. 

The sun, trying now to find its path into daylight, cast a beam of light through the hovering form and set it aglow. This glow then reflected off the impossibly smooth surface of the lake now filled with uncountable fingers of mist shooting upward following invisible currents of air. Ever so slowly, I turned the canoe to align it with the glow of the morning light, waited for the ripples to settle, positioned the camera angle to just undercut the sky, and snapped the image.

When the image appeared on the view screen, I knew a moment of pure gold once again displayed across my visual imagination. My soul cried internally at the serenity and beauty displayed before me. I lowered the camera and simply watched the morning play, dance and spin in front of me. Later, as I paddled toward the lower end of the lake I felt replenished. Uplifted by the experience I rose above the moment to become suspended by a renewed strength, thankful for the moment God had once again revealed to my heart, reinforcing an understanding to my weakened soul of why I do such things. 

There is more to photography than taking pictures...the stories behind the photographs reveal more than the simple image alone can visually explain. Seeking out such revelations opens the heart of a photographer and fills it with a secreted form of art, one requiring only a moment such as this one to express openly what lay hidden deep within.