A Trophy of the Heart

Something unexpected happened on that foggy September morning a few years ago.  For many years fishing from a canoe became a way of life for me.  I've probably paddled hundreds if not thousands of miles over the years and caught a lot of fish in the process.  When I first moved to Kentucky from Oklahoma, I left my trusted, and worn out old canoe behind.  It wasn't long before I replaced it with a brand new Old Town Camper...and she's a beaut and a delight to paddle.

I must admit it was difficult to leave my ancestral home where countless hunting and fishing adventures played out over the years.  Even so, I looked upon this rich new land of Kentucky with anticipation and soon began to scout for new opportunities.

For two seasons I randomly did a bit of hunting and found time to work in some fishing, but it just wasn't the same.  I guess I missed those week-long deer camps in the pine covered Kiamichi Mountians of Southeastern Oklahoma...and floating down the Baron Fork in Oklahoma's portion of the Ozarks, or those morning fishing trips to Old Beggs Lake...and not to forget those freezing mornings on some wild and crazy waterfowl hunting trip...but I suppose I missed my old hunting and fishing buddies most of all.

By Kentucky season three, I vowed to do more fishing to shake loose from the doldrums that had crept into my life.  Most of the hot and muggy summer came and went and I barely wet a line.  Then September arrived and with it a change in the weather as the first hints of Fall began to linger in the air.

With fresh aromas of autumn brewing, memories of days from by-gone years stirred me into action and I loaded my canoe on top of my now beginning to age Jeep, tossed fishing gear in the back, and headed out early one morning.  My destination was Shanty Hollow Lake, which is about a forty five minute drive from my home.  It's a beautiful little lake about 600 acres or so in size...ideally suited for canoe fishing...with clean water and isolated by steep heavily wooded hills.

As I drove toward my destination I passed through cave country hills and marveled at the ghost like valleys and small farms, and barns that filtered through the morning fog.  I arrived moments after official sunrise, but the sun would take another thirty minutes or so before it climbed over the tops of the surrounding hills..  A thick fog floated across the lake and filtering through the haze I could see the first vestiges of fall colors in the trees.  There was no wind at all...just a magnified sense of anticipation that wafted from lingering memories of similar mornings past.  Before I shoved off, I simply stood on the edge of the lake and surveyed the scene.  It felt good to once again experience one of life's small pleasures.  As I slid away from the bank, the sounds of the morning provided an uplifting, calming spirit.

I tossed a line here and there seeking out those hidden recesses where the big bass lie...but alas the fishing was slow.  It didn't matter.  I was drawn to the peacefulness that reigned over this time and place.  As I drifted through the fog, noble emotions I thought long since dormant began to rekindle into flame.

The morning played slowly away and while the final layers of the mist dissolved, I paused in the middle of the lake.  No wind had yet stirred the surface of the water...just the ripples from my canoe and paddle.  I gazed across the skyline of trees now accented against a blazing blue sky.  It was then I once again realized how good it was to experience life from the heart.

No matter where home may be called, by finding time to grasp those moments, in some small way I discovered that a part of Kentucky already existed within me.  Historically, I will always be a native of Oklahoma...but because of this morning...Kentucky truly became a part of me...and I became a part of Kentucky.

I returned home with a renewed spirit equipped with a trophy like no other...not one that can be displayed on a wall...but one much more rewarding...for you see, what I discovered during that rendezvous of time and place was something that stirred deep within.  It was a trophy won from the heart...a gift you might say from my new home...Kentucky.

Keith

The Lighthouse

Many years ago I experienced an adventure I would never trade for anything.  I spent four years in a very distinguished service:  The United States Coast Guard.  Most of that time was spent at the Umpqua River Lifeboat Station in Winchester Bay, Oregon.  One of the many responsibilities we had was caring for the Umpqua River Lighthouse.  The following is a recent story I wrote for
Sherri Elliot,   http://friendsofumpquariverlight.weebly.com/,  for their 2010 symposium celebration.

(Photo's courtesy Sherri Elliot - http://friendsofumpquariverlight.weebly.com/)

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There was a quiet symmetry and slow rhythm to the nightly dance of light that played out high on the bluff that over looked the Umpqua River bar. Listen closely and a subtle but distinct growl seemed to reverberate from within the hollow confines of the old lighthouse. I never really knew why…maybe it was vibrations from the motor and drive shaft that supplied motion to the brass gears of the prism dome that rotated high above…maybe it was simply how the wind wrapped itself around the breadth of its tower creating a resonance of sorts that caused the hollow shell to vibrate. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the rumble seemed to keep time with the slow rotation of the one red and two white beams of focused light as they cut through the mist during their orbit around the compound.

I was much younger then…I guess it’s been the better part of 37 years ago now. I was 21 at the time, coming from the heart of Oklahoma the closest I’d ever been to a real lighthouse were pictures in a book. Maybe that was why I was so captivated by it. Even so, it doesn’t matter where you come from…there is something magical and endearing about a lighthouse.

The good Lord knew what he was doing back then by placing me in Winchester Bay, even though I did not fully comprehend the significance of it at the time. As a result, the few short years I spent on the Oregon coast as part of the U.S. Coast Guard Station, Umpqua River became the defining years of my young adult life…and my time in and around the Umpqua River Lighthouse became one of those iconic experiences that still affect who I am today.

That old structure became a safe haven of sorts offering a brief respite from the everyday grind we endured as crewmembers of the Coast Guard Station. That grind was characterized by hours and hours of cleaning, painting, and scrubbing, broken by an occasional stint on bar patrol riding the waves on the now retired CG44303 and 331 surfboats and even less often actually performing some kind of search and rescue operation. Oh…we were busy enough with the bar patrols and SAR operations especially during the summer months…but when we were not involved in one of those adventures…well, we scrubbed and painted just about everything that could be scrubbed and painted…multiple times…and then we did it again.

When the chance to break away from that routine became available, I was quick to latch onto it and Friday clean up chores at the lighthouse offered one of the best opportunities. I actually looked forward to that time and tried to keep that fact a secret as I jealously wanted to share very little of it with my fellow crewmates.

While there, I would often read some of the old entries in the lighthouse log books…mostly ordinary things like ‘swept the floor and stairs…oiled the gears’…things like that…making numerous mostly routine entries myself. I’ve often wondered what ever happened to those old log books.

Sometimes, I would hurry through my clean up chores so I could spend time simply looking out to sea from the heights of its tall structure. On clear days you could see about as far as your imagination would allow you to go. On those cold, dark, and damp days, I’d simply watch the light cut through the mist as that great lens would rotate slowly behind me slicing the damp air with its red and white beams. There was a peaceful atmosphere that permeated those heights, an atmosphere that is best experienced up close, as words can do little to describe the actual feeling. Needless to say, over time I began to believe that old lighthouse was a friend of mine…someone who didn’t care if I had messed up that week…always welcoming…always warm and refreshing…always providing something new to experience. I really looked forward to those few random opportunities to visit that place.

Often, when I had some free time, I would drive up the hill at night and park beneath the lighthouse to watch its choreographed performance. I found it rather calming. Dusk was the best time as the mist would gather and the beams would begin to glow. It was almost like the old lighthouse was using those beams of light to point toward something…as though it was trying to speak to anyone who wanted to listen…

”Come and see…” it would say...”Let me tell you of the adventures I have seen.”

Many times I have wondered what stories it could tell if indeed it could speak to us. One thing for sure is that it helped inspire a young man to dream of grand adventures.

I spent many hours on watch at the old lookout tower that at the time was situated just on the north end of the parking area in front of the lighthouse. During the long night watches, I can still vividly remember observing the magical light show as the red and white beams cut through the mist…and yes that growl…that constant, low volume rumble that seemed to groan from within was always there…a kind of song that was part of the symphony of light, sound, and the aroma of the pine scented mist that played out every night on that hill. It is a good thing that our minds capture such things for they become so much more than reflections of times past...they become reflections of who we are…Even so, I choose to save the best of those memories for myself.

From time to time we would be asked to provide tours of the lighthouse. As I was one of the few people at the station who could type at the time, I was often assigned office duty filling out daily reports and such and standing the comm-watch so when someone came in and asked for a tour, more often than not I would take them myself…not all the time mind you, others performed that roll as well…but I didn’t mind doing it when I could. Usually those tours involved an older retired couple on vacation or maybe some middle aged couple…rarely anyone close to our own age, except on rare occasions. One day a car pulled up next to our main building down in the harbor and a middle-aged couple stepped out. Many of my crewmates for some reason didn’t like giving tours and they tended to scatter rather quickly…and prematurely as it turned out on that occasion. Right behind the man and his wife their two daughters stepped out…and I must admit, they were both rather stunning. That was the best lighthouse tour I ever had the good fortune to perform…much to the jealous chagrin of several fellow crewmates.

There probably isn’t a day that goes by that the experiences that came into my life back then are not in someway reflected in who I am today. I learned a great deal about life during those few short years and the old lighthouse was an important part of it. I venture to wonder what life would be like now had I not been exposed to those days. It is good for the soul to do such things…remember dormant adventures by removing rustic memories from the old “trunk of recollections” and bringing them into the light again.

Should we ever lose all or part of the old lighthouse I suppose all those memories would still be there…but it would never be the same. Twenty-five or thirty years from now we may find ourselves asking why such a thing was ever allowed to happen.

The old lighthouse has always functioned admirably with a sense of grace, strength and purpose, but what seems most important today is simply its aesthetic beauty. The lighthouse may have over time lost its ability to serve the same purpose for which it was originally intended. I suppose it really doesn’t need to. In reality, it actually serves a more important purpose now…and that is to remind us of who we are.

It’s one of a kind Fresnel prism lens that has served so well for so many years, can still serve a common good by helping us to remember the significance of the lives that have revolved around it. It serves as an anchor in time, a point from where we can not only look back and revisit from where we have come, but look forward to where we want to go. Its beams hold within their glow the stories of times past, gliding on the currents of life that still reach across time…offering a safe haven where future stories may be archived.

Like lighthouses of olden days whose beams served as a beacon of warning, those beams can also serve as a warning to current and future generations…a warning about not letting go of old values, about not throwing away the things that cannot be replaced…about seeking wisdom before we act…about clinging to the things we hold dear and remembering that the most important safe havens are often found in the heart. It is good to know that the old lighthouse is still there, still reminding us of whom we are and encouraging us to build new memories on the way to the future.

My life would not be the same without the connection it has to that old lighthouse for through the years I’ve come to understand more clearly a few things I wished I would have understood more closely back then. Even today, in the half-light of a misty morning far removed by time and place… I can still hear the rumble of that old lighthouse as it speaks to me across the vacuum of years gone by.

I am forever thankful for having known you…my old friend…grateful for the memories…strengthened because you were a part of my life, and for a brief moment in time you provided an uncertain, searching young man a point of reference from the past…so he could face the future with confidence and purpose. It’s comforting to know that you still hold a part of my history cast onto your beams of light as dreams of grand adventures…dreams that still echo across time.



Keith R. Bridgman

USCG Station Umpqua River
1973 - 1975

Looking for Mood

Most of you probably know by now, one of my favorite places to photograph is the Tallgrass Prairie area of Northern Oklahoma.  Over the past five or six years I've probably made in excess of twenty-five individual trips to the preserve often arriving before daylight and staying until after sundown.  This area may be one of the most under utilized scenic areas for photographers in the country.  That suits me just fine as on many of those excursions I was practically the only person there.  The prairie is not a place that can be effectively photographed from the gravel road or scenic overlooks. It is best observed up close by hiking into the interior and spending time amongst the arroyos and rolling hills.

I am often asked why I spend so much vacation time and effort returning over and over to the prairie...'Don't you have enough photographs?'  I used to try to answer in some profound way...but I no longer even try...instead my answer is more often, 'Well, I can't explain it'.  I've also been asked a number of times what I look for when photographing that area...and what I look for just in general when I head out on a photo shoot.  That's a tough one to answer as well, because there are so many variations.  The best answer I can give is to simply say I look for opportunities that generate a mood.


For a photographer, mood is determined by several factors..the most important being the quality of light.  Light alone though isn't always enough.  For light to be effective in generating mood it must be combined with an effective composition and interesting subject.

An area like the Tallgrass Prairie can never truly be captured in a single photograph.  What I've discovered is that a collection of related images viewed together does a better job of conveying the essence of this amazing landscape.  On any given trip into that area, I always try to capture what are called 'Establishing Shots'...or shots that captures the basic nature of the landscape.  I don't stop there...but I begin to look at it more closely and focus in on the smaller things that define the larger landscape.  Those include the common things like wildflowers, birds and wildlife...but they also encompass things like contrasting colors, shapes, form, and the action of wind and water.

Speaking of wind...there is a lot of it on the prairie which makes for ample opportunities to capture its effects. I often will use a small aperture and slow shutter speed and allow the wind to blur the movements of the grass.

What I try to avoid doing...not always successfully...is taking those cliche shots.  Cliche shots are those images you've seen a hundred times...time and place may be different...but the basic shot is pretty much the same.  Not all cliche shots are bad, it's just that I try to be a bit more creative.  Even so, I still struggle with avoiding doing so as it is easy to snap away and end up with hundreds of shots that all look alike.

I also often head up that way with a specific agenda in mind.  On one trip I may concentrate on morning or evening shots.  On another trip I look for birds or wildlife...and on still another I concentrate on wildflowers or related subjects.  Many times the weather does not cooperate so I try to remain flexible and adjust accordingly.

One thing I pretty much always do is to shoot early and late in the day.  Depending on the lighting condition, photo's taken in the middle of the day tend to be flat and ordinary.  Most of my middle of the day shots I use just to document potential locations for future early or late opportunities.  Having said that, sometimes middle of the day shots can be quite effective, but that requires a good combination of bright colors and/or contrasts of color or light.  Overcast days oddly enough are often great days to shoot the area because of the soft even light and especially if there is any kind of  texture in the sky.

In summary...the Tallgrass Prairie is a location filled with visual emotion expressed through many moods.  As a photographer, my job is to capture the changing moods of the landscape through the effective use of light...and then present the image in such a way that it generates an emotional response in the viewer.