Taking some time off...

 I'll be taking some time off for a while. Need to regroup. See ya closer to the fall season.

Seeing...Finding...Making - Photographing Woodlands

A seasonal fall coolness filled the woods as I backpacked down the side trail leading into my favorite location deep inside the backcountry of Mammoth Cave NP.  Known as 'The Bluffs' because of the long escarpment of rugged rocky outcroppings that line the top edge of a ravine, the surrounding woodlands in the peak of the fall season are filled with awe inspiring colors. As the trail wound its way down into the ravine, the magnitude of the colors appeared to grow with each step. The trail worked its way beneath a wide overhang outcropping where a spring percolated out of the rocks near the top and danced a trail of silvery water droplets into a pool at the base. A bit further on down, the trail dropped even deeper eventually disolving into the camping area. I stopped for a moment choosing to sit on the trunk of a weathered fallen tree and rest my stiff back and bothersome hip. I was at once engulfed within a rustic and ancient woodlands filled with the spectrum of peak fall colors as they sang their song of greetings, and I began to see photographic moments presenting themselves.

 Of all the varieties of photographic opportunities, one of the most difficult types to capture effectively are woodland photographs. They are also one of the most satisfying of photographs a landscape photographer can produce. They do present several problems and overcoming their inherent difficulties is a challenge, but that is what makes them so much fun and exciting to pursue.

I do a great deal of black and white photography, however, the majority of woodland photographs I produce are color images. The dilemma of deciding which format to use when photographing a woodlands area can at times become a daunting task. Both color and black and white have their place and offer unique elements of appeal. Color, especially in the Fall season, is my prefered choice, but...sometimes...black and white brings out details often hidden by the distraction of color. Regardless, the techniques of seeing, finding, and making a woodland photograph is the same for both. The final format is simply a personal choice made by the photographer.

What makes an effective woodlands image? First of all, woodlands by nature are cluttered conglomerations of lights, darks, colors, contrasts, trees, leaves, weeds, and rocks, often dominated by a single color scheme. An effective woodlands image is one where all the chaos of those things are arranged in such a way as to present an element of order to the scene. Doing so is not always easy nor does it always present itself. I've made woodland shots in both bright sunlight and hazy overcast skies. I prefer overcast skies as the light that filters through the canopy is diffused and softened. Even so, bright sunny days can provide some level of effective lighting, you just have to look for it. The photo above was made in bright sunny morning light. The angle of the light is what made it work as it penetrated through the woods at an angle and illuminated the canopy is such a way as to provide a bright contrasting background for the subjects to stand against. This is more the exception than the rule though.  Soft light tends to be more conducive to effective woodlands photographs. 

The photo on the left was made on a bright overcast day during the peak of the fall season. A bright sunny day would have created far to harsh contrasts and would have overwhelmed the image. The softer light magnified the colors and brought out the subtle differences between the yellows, browns, and reds. 

Seeing a woodlands image sometimes can fool a photographer's eye. What looks good within the dynamic range of our vision, will often not translate as well in a photograph. Our eyes are able to discern between the darkest and brightest intensities of light quite well, while the camera's dynamic range falls well short of being able to do so. Soft light helps to bring what we see visually into a similar range of the camera's capability. 

Woodlands are also quite dark overall and will require longer exposures. This in turn requires the use of a tripod. Long exposures work well with flowing water as it will soften the mood of the water. Moving water sometimes distracts our eye and it is easy to overlook the rest of the composition. Moving water in and of itself does not always translate well into an effective woodlands image. Only when it is combined with an effective background and/or surrounding woodland features does it possess a euretheal look to it. 

The photo on the right was taken late one morning on an overcast day. The low intensity, soft light filtered through the canopy of trees and bathed the ravine with a glow that illuminated the scene. A long 1.6 second exposure coupled with a small aperture of f/14 and an ISO of 400 was required, which created an effective blend of movement and detail. What makes this image work is the lack of clutter. Everything there works for the image. Nothing is there that does not need to be there.

Removing clutter is perhaps the most difficult requirement for a woodlands photograph. Doing so requires a keen eye for detail, a discerning eye to focus in on what is important, and an artistic eye to arrange the scene visually in such a way, all the elements within the scene work together in a pleasing manner. Sometimes you just have to move on or comeback another day with different lighting conditions. A woodlands location can appear completely different from one day to the next depending on the light angles and intensity or even the season. A rainy day might transform an otherwise ordinary scene into something that stands apart from the rest of the woods. Removing clutter or, said another way, simplifying the composition, does not mean the scene lacks for complex details. It can be quite complex like the image below.  It is just all the parts must work together not unlike the pieces of a puzzle. Composition is just as important for a woodlands image, maybe even more so, as for any landscape photograph.

Photographing woodlands is a challenging yet rewarding form of photography and will serve to develop your photographic eye toward a more advanced state of seeing. Keep it simple, wait for the light, remove the visual clutter through creative composition, and enjoy just being there. 

Seeing The Shot - Finding The Shot - Making The Shot

 The morning began with a great deal of potential. The sky held a brilliant blue streaked with a combination of high thin clouds and softer, rounder varieties. For a photographer looking for an opportunity to create a black and white photograph, the conditions played well into my plans. The problem was, I was not seeing the shot.

I had returned to a favorite location where photo ops have presented themselves before. On this day, I managed to take a few photos which proved themselves subpar duplications of previous shots I had made months before. I was looking for something newer, fresher, that stood out from the ordinary. I just could not see it. After a while, I decided to call it a shoot and head on home.

I turned onto the main road and enjoyed the speed generated breeze that whipped through my Jeep. A few miles later out of the corner of my eye, I spied a row of trees that stretched across the top edge of a shallow rise a few hundred yards or so off the road to the west. The sky, burnished with high streaking clouds, almost seemed to glow with a brilliance I had not yet seen that day. A quarter mile later, I reversed course and eventually pulled off the road where a commanding view of the scene prevailed.

Within a few moments, I had my photo of the day. What made the shot, was the ability to see it, find it, and make it.

Seeing the shot often comes suddenly many times out of the corner of your eye. Something stands apart that catches your interest. A shape, a reflection, movement, contrasts, something familiar yet different, something that stands apart from the routine and ordinary background. Seeing it comes in flashes. It just appears out of nowhere sometimes. Its recognizable but not necessarily familiar. The more you photograph, the more your eye develops that ability to see beyond the routine, and through the ordinary, to lock onto that which stands apart.

Finding the shot is the refining process the photographer goes through once he sees the shot. Our eyes see in a wide angled view and can be confused by all the additional clutter that surrounds the potential. Finding the shot is where you as the photographer wade through the clutter to visually define the shot. Which lens to use, exposure values, where to stand, low angle, higher angle, left or right, where to place the horizon; low in the frame or higher up. In finding the shot, you define the parameters and boundaries that frames and refines what your eye initially saw.

Making the shot requires patience. It is when after you define the parameters, you wait for the defining moment to capture the image. Waiting on the light, clouds to shift their position, should I return when the light is lower in the sky or higher, these among other intangible factors all work together to complete the photographic process.

All of these becomes instinctive over time. They do not always require conscious thought, but they do require a sixth sense of sort, the kind of sense that just happens and is difficult to define or explain. When you see it, you know it. When you find it, its obvious, when you make it you know the time is now and then walk away with a good feeling having captured something of the heart.

Being in the Moment: Finding the Right Place to Stand

 Many factors influence what makes a great photograph, choosing where to stand certainly counts as one of if not the most important. It sounds so basic, yet is perhaps one of the most overlooked and encompassing of all the factors because it transcends routine 'raise the camera and shoot' techniques and requires the photographer to make a discerning decision.

A wrong or indifferent perspective can cause a potentially great photograph to look ordinary and subpar. The best perspective can be something as simple as moving a few inches to the right or left, or kneeling down to ground level, or standing on the bumper of your car to get a little higher. It can also become as demanding as hiking across a damp field of waist high weeds, or climbing to the top of a ridge, or wading out into the middle of a stream, or lying down in a muddy field. Finding the right place to stand is the first foundational element of capturing a great photograph.

Other elements come into play as well. Time of day, lighting conditions or waiting for the light to shift, sun angles, season, weather, type of lens, exposure values, all of these and more serve as supporting elements from where to begin which is deciding where to stand. 

Before snapping the shutter, the first thing I do is to look at the edges of the frame. Is what is there necessary for the success of the photo? Are there distractions? If I move to the right or left or up or down or will swapping out my lense improve the framing...what about walking to the other side of the field? Will doing so improve the perspective?

Making a decision on where to stand comes with experience and eventually becomes instinctive. Always shooting from eye level and/or being unwilling to move around to make the required effort to discover the best perspective is a recipe of the ordinary. 

 Before long, you begin to more clearly see the elements of a scene and determine what is important and what is not. Observing what is there and then determining if what is there is required for the image you see in your mind is what helps develop the ability to visualize the shot before you take it. You saw something that caught your interest, but in every situation there are distracting and unnecessary elements. Fine tuning those initial visual evaluations by making the effort to find the right place to stand will refine and improve the final results.

 

The image on the left is one such photo. Taken at sunrise on a blustery late-fall day, this gravel road led to a rustic farmhouse nestled amongst a grove of trees. The main road ran perpendicular to this gravel road, but from the intersection of the two, the perspective was not right. Too much road to work with, and too far away from the main subject, so instead I walked a couple hundred yards or so down the road and stopped at the base of a shallow rise that rolled over and dipped a few yards on the other side. Fence posts lined the sides and cornstubble filled the pastures on either side. I tried a low down perspective which did not work; it flattened out the road too much. I looked at the framing from eye level which was not quite right, so I raised the tripod neck as high as it would go which gave me a few more inches higher than my eye level. It was just enough to capture the hump and dip and include the length of the old road as it flowed into the scene. Shifting to the right just a little, allowed the first fence post on the right to come into view which helped frame the scene. The rest was simply to wait on the light and set the correct exposure. Finding the right place to stand is what made this image work.

Being in the moment and finding the right place to stand is what separates an informed photographer with a trained eye, from an average picture taker. Not unlike a structure needing a strong foundation on which to be built, a great photograph requires a strong foundation as well, and that begins with knowing where to stand.

Being in The Moment: A Time To Reflect

 There are moments afield with camera in hand when the experience stands apart separated from the ordinary and the routine by extraordinary circumstances. During those moments, words rarely capture the emotional uplifting one may sense. The feeling is often greater that what is observed. It becomes a time of reflection when memories from long ago are resurrected, and the hopes and dreams of tomorrow take on new importance. There is a blending of the two, however brief they may seem, when the events of nature bring into focus those fond memories of the past and those yet to come.

There are times my heart is coaxed into action by an overwhelming need to reconnect with what nature has to offer. Yet, far too easy it becomes to ignore such callings, and far too often have I missed extraordinary moments of the heart. Encouraging myself to seek out a chance rendezvous more often than not results in rediscovering the importance of reconnecting with nature. 

As I have grown older my heart has grown more thirsty for such things. Quenching that thirst can best be accomplished by making the time to place myself where nature offers, in all of her wonderful blends, the sweet air of awakening.

Being in the moment is about slowing down to observe and reflect on what nature gives, so as to open the places of the heart where memories are stored along with the emotions of a single moment in time.

Capturing the defining instant with a camera when light and heart are joined, well, that is just a small part of the rewards one receives for having been there.

Being in the Moment - Chasing The Sun - Part 2

 New BTC Video: Part 2 of  Being in the Moment - Chasing the Sun - A return overnight canoe trip to Barren River Lake where I am greeted with not only an amazing sunset, but an equally amazing sunrise the next morning.  

Being In The Moment - Chasing The Sun

 In order to truly find yourself in the moment, often requires following a simple axiom; Be willing to place yourself at that point of greatest potential. It is an axiom I learned from a former National Geographic photographer, Dewitt Jones, and many times employing this concept to my photographic efforts has resulted in some amazing opportunities.

As I continue Chasing The Sun as a new project, applying that basic principle of being at the right place at the right time along with being technically prepared has once again proven itself a viable approach to capturing unique moments of light. Making it work requires planning and forethought along with some timely luck. 

Part 1 has now been posted. Please enjoy!

Part 2 of this project will take me to a location I have visited a good number of times the past few years, Barren River Lake. The plan is to canoe into a new campsite and be ready for what nature may present. While pursuing this project, I will explore how the sun offers itself as a photographic entity. The nature of this will require I photograph sunsets and sunrises, but not exclusively, for I will also attempt to capture how the morning light or evening light indirectly affects the landscape. Those kind of shots are often the most difficult to plan for.

Being In The Moment - A New Project Series

 The view materialized out of a moment of insight, a single flash of time and place caught from the edge of my eye. All of it, a sky filled with clusters of brilliant white clouds drifting across is face, an old weathered fence stretching along the flowered country scene, a tangled spit of woods searching for the breeze atop a shallow hill, and colors of a landscape filled with crisp and clean contrasts, all of it at once came into view stirring an instinctive reaction from within. 

My Jeep slowed as I applied brakes, then rolled to a stop. The gears rattled as I shifted into reverse to backup a few dozen yards so I could step outside. The total scene more clearly came into view as all the elements filled my vision, and my heart told me, '...this is the moment...'  I stood silent alongside the road...in the moment...soaking in the profound simplicity of the scene, one possessed with all the ingredients for a fine landscape, but even more so, it possessed intangible abilities to create that rare, personal experience of being in the moment.

Being in the Moment. When it comes down to a simple definition of what Beyond The Campfire represents as an outdoor/photography site blog, being in the moment best describes what it is all about. It took me a while to realize just how much so, and only recently did this idea make itself known. I suppose I unknowingly knew it deep inside, but somehow managed to miss the mark while attempting to define the nature of this site. 

Recently, I just finished a fantastic project, The Ansel Adams Project, where I sought out photographic opportunities that would translate well into Ansel Adams style of black and white images. It is the kind of project that never actually ends, I just refocus in another direction. I learned a great deal about myself, about photography, and about just how important being in the moment meant while chasing after Ansel Adams style of images. It was not only a fun and exciting project, it opened my eyes to a whole new realm of what I am capable of achieving.

Searching for a new project theme often requires a lot of effort and thought. This in the moment theme at first glance offers a wide range of possibilities and challenges, but the kind of challenges I thrive on. I love being outdoors, canoeing, backpacking, or just a simple walk in the woods. Sharing those moments help to reinforce just how important participating in them can become.

I'm looking forward to seeing how this concept plays out. Hope all of you follow along as I chase after not only photographic opportunities, but outdoor adventures as well. I can see how my YouTube site can benefit from such an undertaking and plan on creating a series of video programs that chronicle the adventure. The first in the series, Coming soon; Chasing The Sun. 

Come and join me, beyond the campfire, as I begin a new and exciting project called, Being In The Moment.

The Ansel Adams Project - 2023

 It's a wrap! The final part three video of the Ansel Adams Project. Although I will continue to pursue this fascinating style of photography, the project will be put to sleep for now. It's been an amazing and rewarding journey. Please enjoy...The Ansel Adams Project - 2023.

Me and My Canoe - A Long Hard Day

 The previous day, my 71st birthday came and went without much fanfare. I preferred it that way. Seems like I've pretty much always been that way about birthdays. My old canoe turned 19 this year, now climbing toward 20. I suppose I made a bigger deal about it turning 19 than my own accumulation of years. In recent years I've grown to appreciate more the simple, old school way of doing things. My old canoe, an Old Town Camper model, has proven itself a durable and reliable, old school way of getting around craft. That particular model is no longer being manufactured replaced in more recent times with newer models made with higher tech materials. But, that is just fine with me. My old Camper will be around for many more years, I hope.

On year 71 plus one day, me and old Camper decided to make another solo, out and back, canoe trip on Barren River Lake. The forecast was for mostly overcast with winds from 5 to 10 mph with a high temp up around 80. Pretty good conditions for canoeing. A quick look at the lake map and I set my destination and turn around point at a large cove about 2 miles or so above Walnut Creek Marina. Our put in was once again at Browns Ford further down the lake. Round trip if you include the zig-zag course I was going to paddle would be around 20 miles. That's a far piece to paddle on flat water but I figured I could do it. A couple weeks before I had made a similar trip, around 15 miles for that one, only this time I would paddle a couple miles farther up the lake before turning around.

Canoe tossed on top, fishing gear, paddles, lunch, drinking water, camera gear, lifejacket, plus a few other assorted items were loaded into my Jeep and we headed out. Forty-five minutes later, 8:45 AM, we were on the water.

The wind, practically calm at first made for easy and swift paddling. For the first mile and half I simply glided along enjoying the sights and scenery. The cloudy sky subdued the summer heat, a welcomed refreshing turn of the weather. I planned on taking a few photographs if something of interest appeared, but mostly I just paddled. 

I use a couple paddles, all wooden. Sometimes a single paddle offers a traditional method of propelling the craft across the water, however I have started using a double paddle. I've discovered each type offers different benefits. A single paddle provides more torque and allows for quicker turns and movements left and right or stopping of a canoe. They are very efficient when you employ what is called a J stroke. That is where you paddle on one side for extended periods, but to remain traveling in a straight line, you have to rotate the blade out slightly at the end of the stroke to kick the bow of the canoe back in line. I've never really perfected that stroke, but have adjusted to using what I call a modified J-stroke where I simply drag the paddle blade for a moment at the end of the stroke and use it like a rudder to guide the bow back in line. The single paddle is better for navigating moving water. 

The double paddle, which is more often associated with kayaking than canoeing, will allow for almost perfectly straight tracking of the canoe. For getting from point A to point B, you can not beat it. Momentum is easily maintained, although using one for hours on end places a lot of stress on your arms and shoulders. With proper technique though, they provide an excellent means of propelling a canoe. On this day, I used the double paddle.

I actually made that paddle. Using two old Feather Brand paddles, I removed the handles, split about an 8 inch length off the end of each which were aligned and glued together. That joint being reinforced with three 5/16 inch wooden dowels glued and hammered into three drilled holes of the same diameter along that joint. I used some paracord to reinforce the joint with a few wraps. It works great!

Seems like the first mile or so on a trip like this one takes the longest. After that, they seem to click by rather quickly. Before long, I approached a previous camping location and stopped to stretch my legs, then covered another couple of miles to another potential camping location. I stopped again, this time to eat an early lunch. By this time the sun was starting to burn through the cloud cover, but the air remained cool. My lunch break location took about six or so miles of paddling. I had a good number of miles yet to cover, so I did not linger for long. While sitting there in the shade of a small sycamore tree, a Bald Eagle soared across the lake about a half mile away. His bright tail and head easily seen as the sun caught his magnificent form as he turned left and right searching for an easy meal. Just above him, a Redtail hawk soared across the sky. At first I thought there were two Bald Eagles, but a quick look with the binoculars revealed his reddish buff colored tail.

Ahead of me a long rocky ridge stretched westward before it turned north again. From my current position, the end of that ridge looked to be over a mile away. From there I knew my destination cove was another two maybe two and half miles on up the lake. Time was moving on, so I shoved off and spent maybe 15 minutes or so fishing inside a small cove directly across the point from where I had been. No luck. 

The wind had shifted now from out of the west and was in my face. Not too strong, but strong enough to make me work at it more. Before long I rounded the distant long oval point and headed north. About a mile and half later I pulled over one more time to stretch my stiff legs. In the distance, about another mile or so I could see the gap that was my destination cove. At this point, I figured I had paddled somewhere between 8 and 8 1/2 miles. A quick look at my watch, I realized time was getting away from me again and I had a decision to make. Do I press on? Or, do I turn around. By this time it was approaching 2:00 PM and I knew I had at least the same distance to travel to return to my Jeep, plus I wanted to do more fishing along the way back. I decided to turn around and cut my losses.

Did manage to fish some, with zero luck. For some reason Barren River Lake that has a good reputation for being a good bass fishing lake, this year, the fishing has been really slow on it. Found out later, the next day a big bass tournament took place with over 200 professional bass fishermen and the winning catch was a measly 7 lbs. That is pretty bad. Something ain't right, so I don't feel so bad not having much luck up there this season.

On the way back I mostly followed the same route but did manage a detour into another cove just to check it out. I also deviated some along one leg of the journey that added another half mile or so to my total mileage. Along the way I saw numerous Blue Herons, another Bald Eagle, a family of otters with a newborn cub, and other waterfowl. The afternoon drifted along with my canoe and I seemed to slow down the further along I paddled. By the last couple of miles, I was quite tired and struggled a bit to push through that last portion back to the Jeep.

All in all, the trip took about 9 hours with a few rest stops along the way. After referring to the lake map and snaking a piece of string along the route traveled out and back, then stretching it across the scale of miles, I ended up just slightly shy of 18 miles. 

I've discovered as I have grown older, as long as I remain active and stay in a reasonably good physical condition, I can still do many of the same things I used to do when I was younger. Only now it takes me longer to recover from it. 

I can't think of too many better things to do than to discover what awaits across a good day afield, just me and my canoe.

The Fine Art of Camp Cookery and Other Disasters

 To say it rained would have been an insult to the weatherman. Years ago during a summer break when my friend Rocky and I were in college, we decided to go camping over on the lower Illinois River located in the Oklahoma Cookson Hills area in northeastern Oklahoma. We had no real experience at it, but we figured how hard could it be. Our goal was to fend for ourselves and catch tasty trout we knew were there. Should be a real adventure. We took a few things that filled up the backend of the dune buggy he had at the time and headed off. A couple windblown hours later we arrived at our campsite just before the rain arrived.

We set up camp first with the leaky tent. It had no rainfly, but that should not be a problem. Neither one of us had a real sleeping bag, just a blanket or two. We also had no way to cook except with a campfire. Problem was, everything was drenched and we had no hatchet or saw or anything to cut the wood into manageable pieces. We did gather a few sticks the quantity of which fell well short of what we needed and set them aside until we were ready to cook our trout.

Several hours later we attempted to filet the two  eight inch rainbow trout we managed to catch. Problem was, the knives we had were so dull they were all but useless. About all we managed to accomplish was to create a pile of assorted fish parts. We were pretty hungry by this time so we decided needed to build the fire. Problem was, it was still raining and everything, us, the tent, and especially the few sticks of firewood we had gathered was soaked. Somehow or another we managed to nurse the fire into a roaring smoke and smudge producer that generated virtually no heat. With a few crumbs of cornmeal blended with the fish parts, we attempted to cook our meal. Needless to say, we remained two very hungry, waterlogged, and discouraged campers and left the next day almost disillusioned about the wonders of the great outdoors. On the way home we stopped at a hamburger joint and feasted on a large, juicy burger and fries meal.

Camp cooking is a fine art often becoming either a tasty gourmet treat or disastrous pile of inedible, often burnt mush. Most of the time, when you are hungry enough, that pile of inedible mush tastes pretty good and will get you by in a stomach growling pinch.

My first real attempts at camp cooking took place when I was around nine or ten years old in my grandmother's spacious, tree shaded backyard. I used an old, musty smelling army surplus tent my dad had purchased for me. Inside I placed an old rickety canvas cot along with a dozen or so blankets my grandmother allowed me to use. It was summer, and typically hot as blazes, but that did not seem to bother me. As evening approached I wanted to cook something using my old army surplus cook kit, so I gathered a couple armfuls of loose limbs and branches and somehow or another managed to build a fire without burning down the place.

I ran inside my grandmothers kitchen and raided the icebox. Not sure I can remember exactly what it was I grabbed, but managed to cook it over that little fire. I'm pretty sure whatever it was, it was burnt on the bottom and raw on top, but I cooked it myself over a fire I built myself. I did manage to make it through the night camping out in that old tent. The next morning as I woke up I noticed a dozen or so daddy longlegs spiders crawling around inside the tent. Not long after, the dozen or so mosquito bites I had managed to acquire began to itch. Even so, with childlike anticipation I rekindled the fire and raided the kitchen again, this time grabbing a couple of eggs and a few strips of bacon. No burnt breakfast ever tasted so good.

My skills as a camp cook hasn't improved all that much over the years only now along with burnt food, I tend to spill things into the fire. Doesn't matter what it is, boiling water, stew, or a hamburger usually about half of it ends up in the fire somehow. Even so, there have been those memorable moments when it all, well almost, comes together. Like the time on a Buffalo River float trip a good number of years ago now, my late, old friend Ralph brought one of his oldest friends, a fellow who was about as friendly as they come and could cook like you can't imagine. I believe he was a former military cook, maybe Navy...not sure, but he could build a campfire meal so good we just laid around in total bliss afterwards. This guy was also the absolute, world champion snorer. None of us got any sleep the whole time we were there because of it. But the good food he conjured up certainly made up for it.

I tend to keep my camp cookery simple building meals that are quick and easy, yet meals that provide some carrying capacity. My favorite is bacon and eggs. How could you go wrong with those two ingredients. Well, believe me, I have on numerous occasions. Burnt bacon and scorched eggs sit rather heavy on the gut, but will get you through the day.

Sometimes I'll cook chicken and rice combos using those cans of white chicken and a package of quick rice. It's just a matter of boiling the rice then adding in the chicken. Quick and easy and filling. 

Canoe camping cookery affords you some luxury in that for the most part you can carry a bit more stuff. Although I do not like to, I will at times carry a small cooler so I can tote food stuffs that need to remain cool especially during the summer months. As long as you do not have to portage your gear any distance, you can get away with doing so. Backpacking is just the opposite. Weight is at a premium and the idea is to limit the volume and thus the excess weight when packing your gear. Freeze dried meals are a good option for backpacking. They are really good and weigh next to nothing, however they can be a bit pricey. 

In spite of the trials and misadventures of camp cooking, I really do enjoy the adventure. Camp cookery has over the years provided some of the most memorable and entertaining if not heartburning moments. Building a fire, or even firing off your cook stove will often become the highlight of an outing filled with hopeful anticipation and sometimes terror filled disastrous results. Smoke in your eyes, an empty fuel bottle with no backup, inclement weather, and, oh yeah, the bag of food you left on the kitchen counter, certainly, a great many laughable memories are associated with cooking a campfire meal.

The Legend of Skull Bluff - A True Story

 Arkansas' Buffalo River not only possesses an abundance of scenic wonder, it has a rich history of folklore, strange stories, and unusual happenings. Back in 2013, I and two friends of mine took a 4 day, 3 night, float trip on the river and what transpired on that trip brought The Legend of Skull Bluff to life.

Please enjoy...The Legend of Skull Bluff

On The Edge of Light

 I was not sure what to expect. Pretty much all day long not a single cloud invaded the cobalt blue sky which glowed with a keen sharpness, a winters sky for sure, one that possessed a clean edge to it. The sun had broadcast a wide yet low angle brightness across the landscape throughout the day, and as I made the half hour drive to my intended shooting location I thought maybe I should wait until there might be more texture in the sky. 

I arrived a few minutes later, not long before sundown, where a small grove of trees, a few smaller ones bracketed by two larger ones stood high above the horizon, and I realized that maybe the conditions just might work after all. As the sun dropped below the skyline just left of the group of trees, an orange glow filtered upward into the stark blue of an approaching night sky, an edge of light that filled the air and spread across the background with an amazing contrast of simple color.

One of the key elements I search for when photographing landscapes is what I call Edge Light.

Edge light is an angle of light that creates a sharpness, an isolation of, an almost purposeful ability to allow for the translation of a scene based on the impact a particular moment of light generates. This impact often creates a simplified moment where time, place, and light fall into place to offer an artistic opportunity to capture subtle yet powerful images of nature. It is not isolated to specific times of day such as sunrise or sunset. As powerful as those moments are for offering edge light, edge light can be found almost anytime of day. It's a matter of recognizing it and looking for it.

Edge light imparts a sharpness to a scene far exceeding normal everyday light. It more readily defines what the subject is. It outlines what is there in conditional specifics where an artistic eye will readily see and understand what is happening. Framing it, exposing for it, eliminating what is not needed and focusing in on the true story of the moment, is the photographers job. It's not always easy, sometimes even good photographers miss it, but with experience, seeing edge light becomes easier and more productive. Being able to visually recognize the story amongst all the clutter come with practise. Many times the adage of being able to visually remove what is not necessary in a photograph before ever firing off the shot certainly applies to using edge light.

A good photographer has the ability to see the image long before he ever captures it. Sometimes it is obvious, but most of the time it requires looking beyond the big picture to identify the smaller more important elements. Once a few years ago I was hiking in a woodland area. It was late morning and the sun was quite bright. Certainly not the best conditions for photographing a woodlands as the light was also quite harsh and spotty generating layer upon layer of contrasty conditions. I asked myself, what is capturing my attention...where is my eye going...what am I truly seeing. That is when I noticed a clump of grassy elements growing out of the edge of a moss covered stump. A beam of light spotlighted it against the dark background. Using a long lens, I zoomed in on the scene and instantly recognized how this was the photograph I was looking for. It was a simple composition cast across the more complex elements within the wider woodlands area. Edge light that separated the subject from all the clutter was the key.

Edge light works for most any kind of subject, but sometimes luck plays a part as it was with a little buck whitetail deer late one evening. I was well hidden and camouflaged and the wind worked in my favor as the little buck walked toward me across the edge of an old cornstubble field. About 40 yards or so off, he stopped, looked into the woods, and froze for several seconds. The late afternoon edge light partially backlit him against a dark background. Dried grass along the edge of the cornstubble field caught the light and his small antlers and neck were illuminated by this low angle light. He was looking away from me, but that was okay as the moment turned out to be very special, and edge light was what helped to make it so.

Edge light is often what makes or breaks a photographic moment. Recognizing it when it is there is key to understanding how to use it to your advantage.