Old School Camping in Foul Weather

 Well, the 2025 Spring season has turned into a wet one. Just a few weeks ago I was gearing up getting ready for some canoe camping adventures. Since then, we've had so much rain, my traditional canoe camping location has been inundated. Canoe camping is out of the question for now. Barren River Lake is currently over 25 feet above its normal summer pool. That is very near its flood stage level with more rain in the forecast. All the remote camping areas on the lake are underwater and the lake itself looks like chocolate milk. Not too inviting at the moment. We dodged a bullet just a few days ago when a strong thunderstorm passed through. During that stretch which occurred around 1:00 AM, a deluge of rain, literally a wall of rain, hammered our remote area, then it suddenly stopped. Behind it a little distance away, I heard a loud and steady roar that grew ever louder and closer. I got up and checked the weather station. At that very moment they were showing a large supercell with a well defined hook echo passing directly over where we live. It had a definite tornadic signature, but luckily it never produced a live tornado that touched the ground. My neighbor said he stepped outside at that time and could see the rotation of the clouds directly above.

So, what does this have to do with old school camping. Well, not much really, but because the weather has been so off the charts wicked the last few weeks, I've not been able to get out much. So I thought I would explore the roll of how Old School Camping in foul weather served as a learning experience on how to deal with adverse situations when pursuing a few moments alone out in nature.

One of the first true backpacking trips I ever made was way back in the mid-1980's. I worked a lot of hours back then so time to get away was sparse and far between. I decided I needed to get away and wanted to make a backpacking trip. The closest place was a small lake called Greenleaf Lake, just south of Muskogee, Ok. Roughly a 10 mile loop circled the lake and offered at least an opportunity to try out this backpacking thing.

My backpacking gear was rather old school at the time. The pack was a cheap frame type, pretty small actually, but I managed to stuff it and strap to it all the assorted gear I would need. The only modern thing I had was a Coleman Peak One Packer stove. I still have that stove and it still works great. I got a late start and didn't arrive at the trailhead until late in the afternoon. Maybe 3 or 4 hours of daylight remained and since I had never hiked this loop before I did not know what to expect. Not more than a half hour into the hike, an ominous dark cloud started rolling in from the southwest accompanied by lightning and rain. I hiked faster and faster trying to find a suitable location to camp before that storm caught up with me.

The trail in places was not very well marked and not heavily used, so I had to guess at times where to walk. As a result I managed to lose the trail several times, but eventually found my way to it again. At one one point I had to jump across a small, swollen creek. Thought I could make it without  removing the pack. I didn't. Went in both feet up to my knees in the creek. My boots and socks were completely soaked and from then on I hiked with wet feet that turned into wet blisters. As I looped around and headed in a more southerly direction the steepness of the terrain did not offer any kind of suitable camping location...and the storm clouds grew closer and closer, and the thunder grew louder and sharper, and the wind grew stronger and stronger. It was time to seek shelter so I picked out the most level spot, which was not all that level, and threw up my little tent as fast as I could. Just as I drove in the last stake to hold the tent in place, the skies opened up and I barely crawled inside before being completely drenched.

Trees all around me were swaying. Lightning followed by instant thunder remained constant. On and on it continued well into the night. I did manage to warm up a meal using that Peak One stove, which was not easy within the tight confines of that little tent, but man-o-man did it ever storm. I could hear tree limbs crashing to the ground and my little tent bent and swayed in the wind, but to its credit, I stayed mostly dry through it all.

Not much sleep followed me that night. Not until in the early morning hours just before dawn did the storm let up and I managed a hour or so of sleep. When I awoke, I could hear birds singing and rain drops dripping from the trees. I climbed out into a glorious blue sky morning. My feet were blistered. My gear mostly waterlogged. I was hungry and sleep deprived, but I loaded up and headed on down the trail. By the time I reached my vehicle several miles later, my blistered feet hurt so bad I could hardly walk, but I made it...through the storm and all.

I've had numerous run ins with foul weather on camping trips. Some of them were down right challenging to say the least. One of the most challenging occurred some years back when my good buddy Rocky and I were on a multi-day float trip down Arkansas' Buffalo River. We experienced just about every kind of weather you could possibly run into with the exception of snow...and we came close to getting some that too.

We started out with almost perfect weather. Upper 70's to low 80's. Blue skies. Not much wind. Those conditions proved quite deceptive and as we continued our trip, the wind kicked up. I have yet to figure out why it is, that no matter what direction you travel in on a float trip, the wind is always in your face. It proved true on this trip. Strong gusty winds pushed and shoved at us so much so we found it difficult to even try to fish. We were worn out by the end of the day. Then the temperature began to drop. Coupled with the wind, it grew quite chilly. Toward the end of the second day as that cold front worked its way across the landscape, storm clouds began to build, then the thunder, along with lightning. Some of the lightning was quite intense and way too close for comfort. Being exposed like we were, we deemed it necessary to get off the river until the storm passed. It took over an hour for it to work through and we sat, not having any other options, under a group of trees during that time. Eventually, we shoved off again, but by now the cold front had infiltrated and the temperature began to drop...and it got down right cold. Rain was still spitting on us and at times, that rain turned into sleet. It felt like snow was on the way, but fortunately only sleet and freezing rain taunted us.

That second night turned quite cold and I didn't have quite enough cloths for that kind of weather. By the next morning, a fire was pretty much out of the question as everything was soaked so we ate some oatmeal heated by my Peak One stove and shoved off again only by this time the river level started to rise. As it turned out, our last day involved just a few, although chilly, river miles of floating and we were able to pull out around midday.  We certainly experienced a unique few days on that trip.

You know, some of the most memorable outings seemed to always revolve around the weather. I suppose spending much time outdoors you just learn to adapt to what nature throws at you. The old school way of approaching it is perhaps the most rewarding way. 

Spring Season - The Hardest Season to Photograph

 Of all the attempts I've made over the years to capture the Spring season photographically, I've only managed to take one image that I truly like, and it's a black and white photograph. For some reason, I've never felt satisfied with the results of those attempts and I've struggle to figure out why. By all rights Spring should be one of the best times for a photographer with all the color exploding across the landscape. However, there is a gap between what my camera should be able to create and what I typically end up with. Let's take a moment to review this one image and why it seems to work, at least from my personal taste.

Dogwoods tend to bloom a bit later in Spring than other trees, but when they do, they create eye catching splashes of white scattered across the landscape. On this particular morning I returned to a location where I knew a row of dogwoods grew along the length of an old split rail fence. I, most likely like other photographers, have a habit of trying to capture the entire scene, in this case the trees and fence all in one image, with the result following a similar pattern where the images are simply ordinary with not much depth to the subject. 

The morning light filtered through a background of clutter to eventually encounter the dogwoods. I saw something in the moment and, as I often do, moved in a bit closer to frame a group of the blooms hovering above a portion of the split rail fence.  I allowed my eyes to find the composition and fired off a couple of quick shots. Taking a quick glance at the images I felt like at least one just might work and later on, after I applied some basic post processing the image began to develop a unique personality. It was only after I converted it into a black and white image with a small amount of sepia applied that the image leaped off the screen.

Spring photography is usually a time for color, but on this occasion, black and white worked its magic. To further enhance the image, I applied some Gaussian blur and using the eraser tool removed the blur on the front few blooms. Doing this added an element of depth and magic to the image. 

I've never been able to truly duplicate this process in other Spring photographs. I suppose it is because no two moments of light are ever the same and each one offers a unique opportunity. The difficulty lies in being able to recognize how any given moment of light wraps itself around a subject, and understanding that each one requires a unique perspective photographically. The Spring season by far demands more intense scrutiny from a photographer in order to capture the amazing opportunity it presents. I guess I'll keep trying and maybe someday discover how to capture this wonderful time of year.

A Nature Photographer's Personal Perpective

 It started oh so many years ago as a young boy growing up in Southeastern Oklahoma. Those days spent exploring the creeks and woodlands near my home set the foundation for my love of nature which lead to my eventually becoming a nature photographer.

This video is a personal perspective on that journey and explores what it means to be a nature photographer. 

Please enjoy...

Gearing Up For Canoe Camping/Photography Season - Camera, Lenses, Camping & Canoe Gear, Physical Fitness

This past winter seemed rather long and somewhat more challenging than most winters in Kentucky. After not having been sick for at least four years, I had to fight off some kind of respiratory ailment that lasted for several weeks this past winter.  Even though I did manage to get out some with my camera or to simply take a hike from time to time, as the winter progressed I longed more and more for the warmer days of canoeing season. I found myself thumbing through previous photos or video clips from past canoe camping seasons. About all that accomplished was to enhance my desire to get out again. 

The canoeing season for me usually begins somewhere around the end of March or early April and ends somewhere around the end of October or maybe early November. That four or five month gap between seasons allows for some free time to prepare for the next season. It is important, especially as for someone older like myself (I'll turn 73 this year) to stay physically fit. Neglecting doing so can actually prevent or at the very least, slow you down when the new canoe season arrives. 

(As always check with your doctor before beginning any kind of strenuous workout routine). I keep it simple and do what works for me. There was a day I would spend a good deal of time at the gym. Now that's a good thing, but it took a lot of time and involved some expense. In more recent days I have streamlined my workout routine by using my garage as a gym. It's a whole lot cheaper and way more convenient. Overall, I workout 3, sometimes 4 days a week. On those days, I do a series of pushups ... usually about 100 or so spread over three or four sets. Pushups are one of the best and easiest forms of strength training routines as it works pretty much your whole body especially your shoulders and upper back which are crucial muscles for canoeing. I also throw in some arm strengthening routines using, of all things, an old car battery for a weight. It weighs about 40 pounds or so and provides enough resistance to strengthen not only my biceps but my upper back, lats, and shoulders. My two car battery routines include bicep curls and one arm bent-over rows. The full workout usually takes about 15 at most 20 minutes. In addition I also throw in some walking usually averaging 2 to 3 miles upwards to 3 to 4 times a week...except during the coldest part of the winter where I tend to back off for a while. Last year I managed over 800 miles of walking with as many as 10 miles for a high, and as few as less than 2. My goal was to make 1000 miles for the year...oh well...I came close. It's a good idea and kind of fun to keep a walking log tracking your daily miles, month to date miles, and overall mileage. It also serves as a form of motivation to keep going and over time it adds up quickly. Start slow and build endurance and strength..and keep it simple and fun and remember, you don't have to wear yourself out, just get started and stay with it! ( I managed to drop a few pounds along the way.)

When it comes to canoe camping or any kind of activity that involves carrying your camping gear with you, less is most always better. For canoeing I use two main waterproof bags ... the smaller one I use for my personal gear like dry clothes, spit kit, small towel ... you know, those things you will need around camp but not so much through the day. The larger one carries my actual camping gear like tent or tarp, sleeping bag, ground cloth, cooking gear, small shovel, small hatchet ... again...those things necessary for an overnight or multi-day trip. I also use a very small bag for wallet, phone, keys, extra camera batteries and such. During the hotter months and even though I avoid using one most of the time, I will actually carry a small cooler to store any kind of perishable food items.

Speaking of food, there is nothing more satisfying than eating a good meal cooked over a campfire. I love bacon and eggs of a morning while observing fog drifting off the water. At day's end, a good steak or even hamburger really completes the day. If not for items such as those, I would never carry a cooler with me. Most of the time I can get by with freeze dried foods or food not needing to stay cool. The idea is to keep it simple but nourishing.

As far as canoe gear goes, this past offseason allowed me to build and/or modify a couple of canoe/kayak paddles. One was a how to make a double paddle instructional video I posted as YouTube video   (https://youtu.be/Va3iK9KRTpw?si=Ugak5WJhH23oJ6pm).  

Fun project and I'm looking forward to trying it out. The other one I simply modified a previous paddle so I can break it down into two pieces.

My canoe gear for most canoe trips stays about the same regardless if it is a day trip or overnighter. I use a 16 foot Old Town Camper canoe. It's a great canoe and has served we well for over 20 years now. It weighs in at 59 pounds...there are newer and lighter weight canoes available now days, but, I'd be lost without my venerable and trusty Old Town. Paddles include one double bladed paddle plus a spare single paddle.  When you need to cover some distance, that double paddle is the way to go. It offers almost continuous momentum and straight tracking. A lifejacket, throwable cushion, seatback, water bailer, fifteen feet or so of rope plus an anchor...and that's about it to round out the basics. I keep it simple too along with some basic fishing gear. As always, it is best to build up slowly until you gain confidence and skill. 

My camera gear needs, I have learned should also remain simple. For landscapes and such I use my Sony A77 plus two lenses: a 75-300 Minolta zoom and a 18-50 Sigma wide angle fitted with a circular polarizer filter. For video I primarily use my phone for it takes very good video. I will also shoot some video with the Sony for certain kinds of footage the phone may not capture quite as well. I also include a small tripod to secure the phone too for the video footage and for long exposures with the other camera gear. Yes, I have more capable camera gear, but there really is no need to lug it around, which I have done in the past. it is amazing how little camera gear you actually need to capture your adventure. All the gear is stored inside a watertight ammo box when not in use.

When loading the canoe, I place most all the gear as far forward as I can. This provides a counter weight forward to offset my weight aft and allows the canoe to track better and to not be as adversely affected by the wind. I also load the gear as low in the canoe as possible avoiding any packs or bags to extend above the gunwales. This lowers the center of gravity helping to retain canoe stability, and reduces its wind catching signature. Camera and fishing gear I keep close to me as well as water bottles and snacks.

Yeah, I'm ready for a new season of canoeing adventure. The photographic possibilities are almost limitless and with any luck at all, I'll be able to capture some unique moments of light. Preparing for those potential moments requires a measure of planning and preparation, but those things are what adds to the mystique and enduring nature of pursuing such things. Keeping it simple, staying within your own capabilities, and being willing to give it a try makes what might seem out of reach...possible.

Defining Success Afield

A fine line exists between experiencing success afield or feeling discouraged by a lack of it. It doesn't matter the endeavor, most of us who challenge ourselves in the outdoors have most likely experienced both. Yet, over the years I have experienced a great deal of insight as a result of having moments of success and moments of discouragement. As a result, I have learned one fundamental axiom; whether through photography, fishing, canoeing, or any outdoor related activity, success can often be defined by one word: Attitude.

I have missed far more photographic moments than I have ever captured, and I have experienced many fishing days where I've been completely skunked. Although I rarely hunt these days, more often than not in years past my hunting skills fell well short of expectations. Target shooting, fishing, canoeing, camping, photography have all contributed to what most people might see as an indication of a failed attempt. But, failure is a harsh word to describe such things for I see those moments as a series of steps toward success. There is a difference in thinking when it comes to accepting that sometimes, results fall short of expectations. Successful completion of expectations takes effort and the results are far from certain, but...that is exactly why I try.

The trick is to adjust expectations for the moment and look at the situation from a positive perspective. I remember once, a good number of years ago now, back in Oklahoma I took a co-worker and younger friend of mine on his first canoe fishing trip. All week we talked about it and I may have elevated his expectations by building up this little lake as having produced several good bass over the years. He was all excited about getting out come that Saturday. Of course he was late arriving for our early morning start...which by the way became a bad habit of his...and we missed the early morning fishing opportunity. All through the morning both of us made cast after cast after cast without a single hit of any kind. By mid-morning he began to grumble and gripe. By noon, the day in his mind was turning into a waste. By early afternoon I was getting rather tired of his griping and decided the fishing trip was over and so we pulled out early. During our fishing time and on the way home, I tried to redirect his negative thinking toward just how much fun it was to be out on the water in the canoe. We had a beautiful day and there were other values just wanting recognition. Yet, in his single minded focus the fishing was lousy so the day became a big waste of time.  To him, the day was a failure.  His incessant griping put a damper on the day, even for me. Even so, I loved just being there and would have enjoyed the day in spite of the lack of fishing success, but his attitude pretty well ruined the day for both of us. I never again took him fishing. 

By this time in my life I had learned how the outcome is the least important element and just being there was what actually mattered the most. A positive outcome is simply the icing and a positive attitude will make any day afield a good experience. My late good friend Ralph became instrumental in teaching me to think this way and he did so by example. I never knew of him to grumble or gripe about the situation regardless of the circumstances, and we experienced just about every kind of situation. His attitude was one of first, just being able to get out and enjoy the day and second, let's see if we can catch a fish or two along the way. 

Sometimes I will head out with my camera hoping to discover some exciting moments of light. Rest assured, many of those times the light was simply not there, yet I was still able to experience a great morning or afternoon because I set the camera aside and listened to what nature was offering. 

Many times I have done similar things during other situations. I'll set the fishing rod down and sit on the creek bank and just allow the motion of the water talk to me, or instead of fishing from my canoe, I'll stow the rod away and spend the day paddling around getting up close to explore some tucked away cove or rocky bluff or watch a high flying eagle or osprey do their acrobatics. They, after all, are certainly far better at fishing than I ever will become.

I love to just sit behind a campfire and listen to its song and absorb its aroma. No two of them are ever the same and each one develops its own personality. Seeking out a sunset while doing such things can be one of the most soothing and calming of moments. I often find myself alone during such times, and for the most part, that is what I prefer. 

Moments such as these are what define success afield. Each of us who pursue such things must develop our own definition of what that should look like. For me, just being there is success enough. Storing those moments within the memory banks of my heart is like having money in the bank.The trick is to not deplete the value of such things by allowing negative attitudes to overdraw the account.  Just enjoy the opportunity in whatever form it is given.

The Old Western Field 22 Rifle...First Steps Toward a Boyhood Dream

 Not sure really where those boyhood dreams of adventure originated. Could be from the stories my grandfather told me about fox and bear dens on the old Oklahoma Cavanal Mountain. Or maybe it was from watching an old adventure movie or reading about the grand adventures of Lewis and Clark. Most likely though it probably was brought to life after reading the true story of a man long ago who made a bet with a friend that he could survive for six months or maybe longer in the woods taking nothing with him...not even his clothing. A fascinating story for sure especially for a young boy who dreamed of such things. Most of those dreams remain locked away inside until one day, on my 12th or 13th birthday during the summer of either 1964 or 1965, my dad bought me a 22 LR rifle. At the time it probably sold for around 25 or 30 dollars. From that moment on, I felt as though those dreams had the potential of becoming, at least to some degree, a reality. 

It was a simple rifle; a single shot Western Field bolt action he most likely purchased from Montgomery Wards. But to me it looked and felt like a high caliber deer rifle. Just holding it in my hands and raising it to my shoulder to sight down the barrel and align the sights on some distant target was an act of adventure. On that first day after opening the long box it came in, a smaller package was also included which contained a couple boxes of Remington Long Rifle bullets. Later that day we headed over to a local creek and within a short time I shot up those two boxes of shells plinking at various objects. I'll never forget that first day shooting my very first real rifle.

Still in my youth I relied on my dad to take me someplace to shoot it and to buy the bullets, so it wasn't all that often I was able to get it out. Never did go hunting with it back then, just plinking around creeks and other locations mostly imagining hunting way off in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains. Not until I grew into adulthood did I manage to head out on my own. Most of the time I just shot at cans and pieces of wood and things. Doing so improved my accuracy and it was indeed a rather accurate rifle considering the simplicity of its design.

That accuracy lead me into target shooting. I knew very little about how to do that, but over time learned the basics. I discovered just how accurate the rifle was for it, when held steady and solid off a bench, could consistently shoot a five shot one inch group at fifty yards. That's good enough to score in the mid-40's on a 50 point fifty yard small bore target. That grouping improved when I figured out if I used subsonic rounds like the CCI target rounds. Using those specialty rounds the potential accuracy improved to about a 3/4 inch five shot group. That could in theory score in the high 40's.

Of course shooting by hand would impart a level of inaccurate tendencies into that potential. Even so, I eventually started shooting in four position small bore rifle competitions; Prone, Sitting, Kneeling, and Standing. I rigged my rifle with a simple target peep site which improved my offhand shooting and felt as though I could compete respectfully and not embarrass myself...too much. 

During my first competition over near Bixby, Oklahoma I arrived not really knowing what to do. I registered and was given my targets and listened to the range officer go over the range rules. When we stepped onto the range I looked across the various stations and my heart simply sank as the other competitors extracted from fancy hard cases high dollar specialized target rifles fixed with calibrated diopter target sights. My little rifle looked almost like a toy up against those. They also wore specialized target shooting clothing which helped them hold their rifles more steady. I stood there in blue jeans and a sweat-shirt using only a large leather glove and a sling made out of an old leather belt to help steady my pulse from being imparted to the hold of the rifle. 

Next to me stood a fellow who appeared to be a seasoned target shooter using a several thousand dollar target rifle. He looked over at me obviously eyeing my little gun and politely smiled. I felt a slight bit of smugness from his demeanor. Undeterred, I sighted in my rifle in the prone position at 50 yards and was pleased with the results...then the shooting started for real. I fired off all twenty rounds, five on each of four targets. When the shooting stopped we gathered our targets and exchanged them with the competitor next to each other for scoring. His target looked well seasoned and even though I felt sure I had shot pretty well, I wasn't sure how the scoring would turn out.

When he was finished, he stood there shaking his head, glanced over at my rifle, then back to the target and commented. "You shot this target with that rifle?"

I said, "That's right...how'd it turn out."

He shook his head, "Man, that's some pretty good shooting for a little sport rifle like that. These are some good scores. Never thought I'd see these kinds of groups with that kind of gun. Some of these other guys using real high dollar target rifles won't score much better, and your scores are most likely better than a good number of them."

I smiled and thanked him. My highest target score if I recall right was around 47 and the four combined target scores fell around 175 out of 200 in the prone position. Kneeling, sitting, then standing my scores varied somewhat but were respectable and that little old Western Field sport rifle held her own against much more capable guns. I continued to entertain myself at those shoots for a season or two.

Through the years I have introduced both my son's to that old rifle even mounting a 4X scope on it. I even took them on an early morning squirrel hunt some years ago. Christopher carried a pellet gun and Tim the 22. That was great fun and this one photo I made of them using a simple disposable camera is one I treasure as much as any of them. Christopher, my youngest seemed have more of an interest in shooting and even got him to doing some 50 yard target shooting practice at one time.

On one of Kris and my first dates, I took her target shooting using that old 22. Even today, she will, on our Thanksgiving shoot, partake of the shooting activities. She's a pretty good shot even now.

On occasion just for myself, I'll breakout that old rifle and set up a target 50 paces away inline with my mound of dirt I had put in when we first moved to Kentucky.

 My skill at shooting has diminished somewhat, but that old rifle will still shoot a good group. Almost every Thanksgiving Day after my boys and family have gorged ourselves on turkey and dressing, we will brakeout the old 22 and do some plinking in the backyard. 

I love that little old rifle and treasure it as a means to retouch with my past. It is a past filled with visions of adventure and each time I squeeze the trigger, I am gratefully returned to those days when a young boy dared to dream of such things. My eyes are dimmer, my once blond hair now turned white, and my hold not so steady anymore, but I still enjoy the feel and excitement of how a simple little sport rifle strengthened the heart and mind of a young boy. I am still today that young boy, just in an older body, who dreamed of grand adventures and that old Western Field 22 rifle came along on many of those dreams.

The Quiet Side: When Nature Offers The Best of Herself

 Not so long ago, a long day fell mostly behind me and Kentucky's Barren River Lake began to settle toward its nightly rhythm. Daylight crawled ever so slowly toward darkness and just as the peak of the setting sun reached its climax, the horizon began to glow with a fire-like texture enhanced by suspended dust and smoke particles from summer forest fires way up in Canada. I walked across the gravel-like beach hearing only the soft crunching of the sandy pebbles under foot and the gentle washing of the lake against the beach, then sat on an old wooden box that somehow washed ashore some time back. The quiet side of nature spoke to me as I absorbed the moment. Speaking softly it reminded me just how much I needed this softer moment and just how often I miss these opportunities, but when I and the quiet side of nature do converge, we do so with a more clear understanding of why I need to do such things.

The Quiet Side is that moment when nature offers the best of her day. It can occur most anytime, but tends to spring to life during that transition from daytime to night., when the bigness of the day begins to slow down toward a refreshing calmness. That calmness of spirit moment can be felt, should you allow yourself to do so. It is like no other, and one of the best ways to discover and experience it is to canoe camp. 

I am blessed to have a wonderful location nearby where I can partake of such moments. Yes, it is a public area, but large enough to offer room enough to slip away from the public locations and find a secluded spot that offers a great isolated view of the lake. Not only do I enjoy the adventure of paddling my canoe deep into the back areas of the lake, I mostly do so just to experience the quiet side of nature.

So much noise infiltrates our lives we often lose touch with the benefits of getting away so we can fade into the aura. Canoeing provides one of the best opportunities to slip away from all the clutter of life. It is a throwback of sorts where you can truly become one with your craft and one with nature. After a while on the water, stiff muscles loosen and the distance begins to slip away behind you. It becomes easy again to view the world with a more discerning eye, like a Sycamore tree growing out of the sheer rock face of a bluff, or an Osprey hovering then diving for a meal, or maybe the cool spring water leaking from high up the ridge to run across the face of a bluff. A favorite of mine as a photographer is watching summer clouds change their shape as they drift across a sky so blue it looks more like a painting. These are but a few of the kinds of things that you may find while seeking out the quiet side of nature.

Sometimes I'll stop paddling and just drift allowing the day to infiltrate into my soul. I'll lean back to stretch stiff back muscles and allow the sun to warm my spirit. Eventually, I'll find my secluded spot and pull off the lake. In short order I'll setup camp, gather firewood, sort through my gear, take a few photographs, and cook a meal. Oh my...those meals! What could be more rewarding that watching, hearing, and absorbing the aroma of a steak or bacon and eggs cooked on an open fire...I suppose eating them might be. 

But mostly, I just relax and wait for the climax of the days quiet side. As always, the sun follows its path toward the horizon and settles deep behind a distant hill. The sky turns reddish orange, glows into a brilliant moment of light, and slowly fades. 

Then the stars begin to show themselves. At first just one, then another, and a few more twink their light across the darkening blueness of a evening sky. Before you know it, the sky is filled with diamonds of light. 

You toss another log or two onto the campfire, lean back and enjoy the show. The quiet side of nature arrives with a subtle flavor, then...it simply fades into the night.

By morning another flavor of the quiet side presents itself. Sometimes fog greets the morning and that often provides for some fantastic photographs. More importantly, it provides for another example of what the quiet side can offer. In the halflight of morning before the sun fully exposes itself, these foggy events whispers subtle greetings to your day.

It's hard sometimes to decide between capturing photographs before the fog lifts or savoring those sizzling strips of bacon cooking in your skillet. Just another quiet side dilemma I suppose, but...I will enjoy both...eventually.

 The Quiet Side. It's a point in time when nature offers the best of herself, and a place in time where we can release ourselves from the clutter and noise of life.

The Voyageurs - A Nature Photographer' s Personal Connection to History

(As the new year begins, one of the things I want to write about on this blog site are brief historical accounts from bygone years. One of the most fascinating involves the storied saga of the Fur Trade Era and the men who braved the dangers of the North American wilderness, men known as The Voyageurs.)

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 In the mid-sixteenth century, the fringes of North America had barely been explored, but because of the potential abundant wealth that could be had from the furs of beaver, mink, marten, lynx, ermine, bear, and wolf, the fur trade era began and gradually gained momentum to last for almost two hundred years beginning in the early seventeenth century (modestly starting around 1600 and reaching a peak in the early 1800's). The role of probing those unknown fringes of North America fell onto numerous individuals and bands of independent fur traders, but one of the most colorful groups most associated with this era were a hardy bunch of men known as The Voyageurs. As a result of their efforts, a nation (Canada) was born and the deeper regions of North America began to open up. 

 The craft they chose to venture into the backcountry was the Native American birch bark canoe. These canoes varied in size from the small personal designs suitable for one or two people to large freighter canoes measuring up to over 30 feet in length with 50 inch beams and 30 inch drafts capable of carrying well over a ton and often as much as 3 tons of cargo. Complemented by a narrow bottom, flared sides, sharp ends, and a relatively straight keel line and high prow, they were rugged and well suited for the trials of traveling deep into the interior. They were easy to repair in the wilderness with natural materials and relatively lightweight. Four men could portage ( pronounced por taj or por tahj ) the craft by hoisting it up and over onto their shoulders. ( Portage is a French word meaning to carry or transport freight.)

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To barter for furs from the indians and trappers they carried items such as awls, axes, gunpowder, gun tools, brass wire, flints, lead, beads, blankets, material, firesteels, rope, hooks, nets, rum or wine, tobacco, and a variety of other useful and scarce items. They transported these and other items to remote outposts established deep within the interior.

The voyageurs were able to paddle these large canoes great distances with no less than 50 miles per day being the norm and 75 miles was not uncommon. Using their long paddles, with red painted blades, they maintained a torrid pace close to one stroke per second tirelessly for 15 hours a day, with just a few breaks, that tested their strength and endurance. Across vast stretches of flat water and up or down fast running rivers, they traversed deep into the interior of North America, which included not only Canada, but parts of what eventually became the United States as well. More often than not they chose to run dangerous rapids to avoid the back breaking chore of portaging their heavy loads around them, but there were times a long portage became necessary. Every man often had to carry an aggregate of  up to 500 lbs the length of the portage which could be several miles over steep terrain often requiring several trips per man. Each pack was stuffed upwards to 90 lbs of cargo, and no self respecting Voyageur would carry less than 2 per trip, plus their personal duffle bag. Sometimes 3 and even 4 packs were carried by a single person employing a tumpline braced against the forehead and wrapped around the base of the heaviest pack. A second or third pack was tossed on top held in place by their respective weight.

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These Voyageurs were tough, well conditioned men more akin to world class athletes of today, possibly even more so. Most of them were not tall, but rather short about 5' 6" on average and stocky. Long legged Voyageurs were rare as there was no room in the cramped confines of fully loaded freighter canoe to stretch out legs. Most of the voyages began in Montreal where most of the Voyageurs were recruited to work for the large fur companies. Their voyages often spanned 1500 miles often covering over 3000 round trip miles across the wilderness and as far north as the shores of the arctic seas.  

Their shelter was simple consisting of an overturned canoe draped with a sheet of heavy oiled canvas. Tents were rare, but sometimes used. Their food; 1 quart of dried/boiled peas per man per day seasoned with salt pork or lard. As a bonus, flour mixed with water, along with an occasional pesky fly, the odd pebble or two, and sand mixed in from the gubby hands of their cuisiner, was fried like a pancake on a tin plate steel skillet lined with lard, but it added bulk and calories to their diet. To ward off the annoying mosquitoes and black flies, they rubbed their body with a mixture of skunk oil and bear grease which often got mixed in with their food..

At camp they joined in songs and dance to lighten their emotional loads. After a particular grueling day, they might be allowed an extra helping or two of rum or wine. Songs were often used to build comradery and help the team keep a steady and even pace through the day. Each morning started at first light but breakfast was rarely eaten until well after they were underway later in the morning.

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Along their route, they pushed through dangerous waters, and places like the windswept reaches of the Ottawa River, Georgian Bay, and Lake Superior and onward to The Grand Portage post, the crossroads of the fur industry, on the north shore of Lake Superior. The Grand Portage had no real outlet to the river systems they needed to travel deeper into the interior and everything had to be carried along a nine-mile portage to the Pigeon River area where their cargo was often parceled and transferred to smaller canoes to be delivered to far flung outposts.

These men had a great respect for their birch bark canoes and treated them with care for it was their lifeline to carry them back home. Little sleep, questionable food, back-straining loads, exposure, storms, exhaustion, and other dangers of unknown nature awaited them during their journey. Yes, they were hardy men of steel and endurance and became legends in their own time. Even after many years, most of those original Voyageur routes can still be traveled by modern day adventurers using modern canoes.

Voyageurs wore a variety of clothes and were a reflection of their personal expressions. They included gear such as moccasins, breechcloths, and leggings which reached to the ankles held in place by a string secured to a belt or sash (ceinture fle'chee') around the waist.  Made of homespun linen or wool, sashes were at least 8 inches wide and 12 feet long and most of the time they were red in color but could be almost any color and were often interwoven with various colors. 

Wrapped 2 or 3 times around the midsection just above the pelvis to just under the rib cage they were not only a colorful addition to their outfit, they served several purposes; as a warm wrap, as a tupline to help carry heavy loads, or as a back brace to prevent injury carrying those heavy loads.

 They also wore a red or blue wool cap called a toque and a hooded coat called a capote and a large cotton scarf tied around the neck and shoulders or tied around their head to absorb sweat. Their attire might also include a shirt or felt hat. Most of their gear was provided, for a hefty cost, by the fur trading company they hired on to.  They ranged in age from their early twenties and as old as into their sixties and most of them were French Canadians. They never made much money but more often were simply paid with a voucher good to exchange for merchandise from the company-run store. They were not allowed to trade furs on their own and everything they hauled belonged The Company. Eventually, many of them became independent trappers selling their furs when and to whom they chose.

The Voyageurs often spoke of strange happenings and observations they encountered during their trips. Stories like 'The Water Horse' were often spoken of. Described as a creature with a horses head with two long tusks jutting from the upper jaw but with a long snake-like body that easily moved through the water. They appeared awkward on land, but quickly retreated into the water if approached. This strange creature had deep connections to ancient European cultural folklore. By the descriptions given, this mythological creature more than likely can be identified simply as 'The Walrus' . 

Another tale from those days refers to a mysterious woman leader of one of the west coast tribes. She was known as 'The White Queen'. She by all accounts was a real person of striking appearance and ruled over her people with an iron but wise hand. A true leader, she held and demanded unwavering respect from even the most radical and hot headed of her warriors. She is credited with saving the lives of several explorers who happened to cross paths into her domain. Many other tales of adventure filled volumes of journals. 

One of the most strange accounts was known as the Legend of the Shaking Tent. There was a half naked medicine man chieftain who would enter into a tall, narrow tent constructed of several long poles of different kinds of wood and covered with hides. Once inside the chieftain would light a fire and breathe in the smoke from the different herbs and plants being burned. Before long all kinds of voices could be heard emanating from within. Voices included shouts and screams in a language no one could understand along with howling and barking like a dog that filled the air at the same time and lasted for quite some time, when suddenly all would grow quiet. The old chieftain then spoke in a calm voice and said the Turtle deity was now ready to answer questions anyone might ask. In Native American culture and mythology, turtles are associated with the earth and symbolize divination, protection, healing, and wisdom. On one observed occasion, one of the questions asked was if the British were going to attack them and how many soldiers did they have. The tent began a violent shaking almost to the point of collapsing. After a few minutes the Chieftain from inside spoke again saying the Turtle deity had flown across the great lake (Superior) and saw few British men, then he flew on down toward the far end and found many British ships with many men, but they would not greet their people with anger, but offer trade goods in turn for beaver, and mink, and ermine pelts. This prophetic moment proved true.

 Yes the Voyageurs from that era not only gained legendary fame as brave and resourceful men of vigor and endurance. They added a great deal of color to the enterprise known as The Fur Trade Era.

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Today's canoe is a far cry from those form defining bark canoes of old. With high tech materials capable of lasting for decades, the canoes we use today do provide a common and distinct link to that amazing era of the North American Voyageurs. You can still purchase special made birch bark canoes. They are quite expensive, sometimes running between $500 per foot (about $7500 for a 15 foot canoe) to over $1000 per foot (about $15,000 for a 15 foot canoe. The ones I've seen are beautifully constructed and capture the essence of bygone days of the fur trade era. 

Today's canoes pricewise are a comparative bargain and even though they do capture the basic form and function of those classic designs, they tend to fall short in recreating the rustic charm and historical warmth associated with a canoe made from natural materials. I have often wanted to build one, but, that's not practical. However, I have created several wooden paddles from scratch that do retain a warmth and charm all their own.

Every winter, as I sit in front of the fireplace, I begin to long for those warmer days when I too can load my canoe and head off for a day or two or maybe three afield paddling the length of a local lake, or even the length of a nearby river system. My efforts seem rather anemic and pale in comparison to what the Voyageurs did, but I do so enjoy paddling my canoe across calm waters on a warm summer day.

Even so, just feeling the movement of my canoe as I press the paddle through the water, to feel the sun on my face, to breath fresh air, and to watch as clouds dance across the sky, or to witness an amazing sunrise or sunset while set adrift across a lake, well, as simple as those moments are in comparison to what the real Voyageurs experienced, they still provide for me a very personal connection to the storied history of those colorful adventurers from bygone days.

And...when I find myself alone with my canoe, especially at first light as the sky begins to glow, I'll often stop paddling and simply drift along. During those quiet moments when birds greet the dawn, and distant hills spread their great shoulders against the golden rays of morning, somewhere in my deep memories, the young boy who first dreamed of grand adventures comes back to life, and, because of those old dreams I...however briefly...too, become a Voyageur!

When It Snows...Making the Best of Winter

 Snow in Kentucky is a hit or miss kind of thing. Sometimes we get a lot. Sometimes we don't get much of anything. Most times, most seasons, we do get at least some snow...and I love it! Winter can also be a difficult time to get out, but I've learned some of the best times for capturing nature images is when the weather turns bad. That is why I drive a Jeep, mostly, for it allows me to navigate around without too much difficulty when winter turns snowy. Making the best of winter is a challenge, but, you just gotta get out when it snows.

One of my favorite locations for seasonal photography is a little creek called Rhoden Creek. It's about a thirty minute or so drive from my house and is tucked far enough away from the main traffic flow that not all that many people pay it much mind. It is wonderfully perfect place to spend an hour, half a day, or even all day enjoying the sights and sounds it offers.

In recent days the atmosphere ushered in frigid temperatures via a cold front that dropped down from the northerly latitudes. Combined with some moisture that flowed up from the gulf, the conditions were ripe for snow. The forecast was for up to five inches, however, nature has her own way of doing things and we ended up with maybe three, but it was enough to blanket the landscape with a white icy covering. At times the snow fell with great authority turning the landscape into a wonderfully misty, enchanting winter moment. I found myself glancing across the open fields next to the creek to watch the snow falling as the darker hill sides provided the perfect blend of rolling texture and dark background to allow the falling snow to become visible. I probably took more video footage than still pictures, footage I will use later as part of a new BTC Video program called 'A Change of Seasons'.

There is something about the sound of water running across the uneven texture of a gravel and slate creek bottom. Not many sounds of nature add the same kind of musical tempo to the environment than flowing water. Capturing the emotion of the moment in a single photograph requires the ability to filter through the clutter and focus in on the most important visual elements. Angles, perspective, exposure, timing, all come into play.  And, when snow is in play, it is a perfect time to think in terms of black and white.  I love black and white especially when it snows, and I tend to always look for compositions I know will translate well into black and white images.

Snow almost makes it easy when it comes to making the best of winter. To me, falling snow signals it is time to crank up the ole Jeep and head out. Little Rhoden Creek and falling snow created a perfect blend of photographic opportunity, and aesthetic adventure. The memories created carry with them much stronger images than photographs, the kind of memories that are harbored within the heart as the best of what nature offers.

A Canoe/Kayak Double Bladed Wooden Paddle Build : Step by Step Off Season Project Tutorial

 Here' something a little different from BTC: A step by step off season project where we build a beautiful and functional double bladed wooden canoe/kayak paddle. The video walks the viewer through the basics of building this wonderful and aesthetically pleasing crafted wooden creation. It incorporates a unique design that can be made using basic woodworking tools and a little time. Please enjoy this newest and first of the 2025 season BTC video.