CG44331 - Motor Lifeboat on the Umpqua River Bar - The Story Behind the Photo

 When I was a young man, as I have often relived on this blog, I spent four years in the United States Coast Guard most of which stationed at the Umpqua River Lifeboat Station in Winchester Bay, Oregon. It was an adventure that far surpassed any adventures I've managed to be involved in since then. It was also a time when I purchased my first 35mm camera and began to explore the world of creative photography with quality equipment, at least with what I could afford at the time. That camera was a Fujica ST701 with a 50mm f/1.8 lens plus a Vivitar 135mm f/2.8 lens. My only regret was...I wish I had taken more photos of our station's operations. This photo of the CG44331 was probably the best one.

If I remember correctly, I was shooting Kodachrome color slide film probably ASA (ISO) 25 or possibly 64, I don't rightly remember, using that Vivitar 135mm lens. The events that led up to the capturing of this image began early one foggy morning as our commanding officer Chief Boatswain Mate John Whalen decided the conditions were right for what we called Breaker Drills. 

The Umpqua River Bar can be one of the roughest bar crossings on the west coast. Over the years, there have been many vessels lost on or near this body of water where the Umpqua River spills into the Pacific Ocean. When conditions are right, multiple layers of massive breakers can form across the width of the bar which was at the time (circa 1974) bounded on the North and South by rock jetties with a training jetty a bit further inside the bar directing the river flow outwards. At its widest it spanned about 300 yards from the tip of the South Jetty to the end of the North Jetty. That training jetty has since been extended all the way to the tip of the South Jetty forming one continuous channel and river flow directing structure.

On training days, the conditions were usually moderate with a 12 to 15 foot breaker line forming across the shallower north spit and middle ground areas leaving the south entrance channel mostly clear. These kinds of conditions were suitable for realistic training without presenting a high risk level to the crews.

Fujica ST701

If I remember correctly, I was a bit late arriving on site and had to scramble across the beach to reach the black rocks at the backend of the south jetty, then make my way along the top of the jetty by hoping from boulder to boulder trying not slip and fall. The training ops were winding down as a few moments before I arrived the 331 managed to experience a 360 degree roll. The young somewhat inexperienced operator had gotten himself turned broadside to the breakers and caught one across his starboard side. Over she went, hung for a moment, then righted herself as she was designed to do without stalling the engines or flooding the interior. I did not get any photos of the rollover as it happened before I got there.

The 331 did suffer some damage losing a ring buoy and having a radio antenna break off along with having some internal gear tossed around and some bilge water and oil thrown around inside the engine room, but otherwise she was in pretty good shape. Roll overs are not how you are supposed to do it for obvious reasons. 

As the 331 made her way back toward the calmer waters deeper inside the channel and then eventually back to the station for cleanup and repairs, I snapped the original transparency image...a single moment in the history and timeline of a fine vessel and crew. Many years later, I converted it to a black and white digital image which I believe more realistically captures the drama of the moment.

The Shipwreck: An Old Sailing Schooner Wreck Helps Me Connect with History

 The Oregon coast is perhaps one of the most iconic if not scenic of coastal areas. Mostly unspoiled, long stretches of pristine beaches run almost the full length of the western edge of the state. During the few years I spent out there as a member of the U.S. Coast Guard Station Umpqua River, Winchester Bay (mid-1970's), I often strayed away from the routine of station life to walk amongst the miles of driftwood timbers cluttering the high tide mark. Those outings were attempts to satisfy another one of my many Walter Mitty dreams that never came to pass; being an adventurous archeologist, and this was way before the days of Indiana Jones.

Pacific storms often batter the Oregon coast and because of their ferocity they will reshape and gouge the beach to expose relecks from times past. Those storms over the decades tossed many ships and sailors toward a dooming encounter, to run aground, on the deceptively beautiful beaches. Close to 3000 shipwrecks dating back to 1600's are scattered along this coast. (One of the oldest was a Spanish Galleon in the late 1600's that was lost enroute to Mexico from the Philippines. No one for many years knew for sure where it was lost, but recent discoveries places it along the Oregon coast. The first documented shipwreck occurred in 1808 when the Sea Otter, a 100 ton fur trading vessel was caught in a storm and wrecked near Reedsport/Winchester Bay.) During my tenure there, as luck would have it, after one such storm, the wreck of an old wooden sailing schooner was resurrected out of its sandy grave and exposed once again to the elements. I was determined to explore it.

Internet Photo for Illustration
(courtesy Photos of the Past) 
Alpha Sailing Schooner

Too many years have passed for me to remember the name of that schooner wreck. (It might have been  the Alpha - a wooden sailing schooner run aground near the Umpqua River Bar/Winchester Bay/Reedsport area on February 3, 1907, but to be honest, I'm not sure if it was north or south of the Umpqua River Bar. Overtures to some of the historical societies in the area have proven unsuccessful in identifying the one I visited.) Regardless, I began my journey hiking down the beach one blustery day to check it out.

Back then, just south of the Umpqua River Bar, there were three parking areas, each a mile or so apart. The remains of the wreck was located a few miles further south of the last parking area and required either a hike in or a 4x4 to get there. I did not have a 4x4 then, so I set off on foot.

A dark, low hanging overcast covered the landscape, so low and foreboding it all but seemed to blend with an ocean turned heavy by a stiff Northwesterly wind. Mist from the overcast mingled with the air and joined the wind whipped moisture coming off the breakers that were rolling in just off shore. One after another the breakers tumbled in generating a constant roar as they collided with the end of the continent. 

Behind and above the beach along the Douglas Fir lined ridge, the low overcast embraced the irregular tops of the trees turning them into ghostly gray apparitions. A beautiful sight in its own right, but not exactly the best kind of day for a hike, but the kind of day where the feel and fragrance and exhilaration of the moment burns itself into a forever visual memory.

It is always chilly on the beaches of Oregon, even in summer, but I purposely underdressed because the long hike ahead of me required some effort. All I wore that day was a long sleeve cotton blue work shirt, my C.G. issued heavy field jacket, dungarees, a ball cap, and a pair of boots. The only tools I carried included my venerable Buck 110 folding knife. That knife was rather new at the time, maybe a year old and it was sharp. It had to be, and we were constantly sharpening them for we used our knives for all kinds of things from scraping paint, to whittling, to cutting heavy line, all activities that tended to dull a blade. I figured I might find some old brass or iron spikes embedded in the timbers I could dig out.

At the time,  I wasn't sure how far it was to the wreck. I wasn't even sure for what it was I was looking. I figured I'd just walk until I found it. Felt like it was a lot further than what folks said it was as my hike dragged on for what seemed like miles, and walking that far on sand is not easy. About half way down, I crossed where a small creek emptied into the ocean as it spread out into a meandering delta-like stream several tens of yards across, and in places it was several inches deep. I tried to cross, jumping here and there, tip-toeing without getting my feet wet to no avail...they got wet. Being in a constant state of chilled wetness was just part of life as a member of a C.G. Lifeboat station...and I was used to it by then.

Just above the high tide, storm surge mark, the force of the storm had carved the sand into a seven or eight foot high crumbling sand wall topped by clumps of beach grass and loose debris that ran for miles. I had timed my hike to coincide with a receding tide. Spread across the sand in front of that wall were piles upon piles of large timbers of driftwood bleached almost white from exposure. I almost turned back after a good ways because I could not find anything that looked like the wooden spars of an old sailing schooner. However, a bit further out across the beach a line of tire tracks extended the length of the beach. I figured they were from a 4x4 heading out to the wreck site...and that assumption proved correct for a short distance later I spied what appeared to be a 4x4 Blazer parked near the sandy wall.

Internet Photo (Emily Reed wreck) Similar
to the Schooner wreck debris

A short while later I lumbered onto the wreck site. It was a remarkable, but sad site. Large ship timbers extended out from the sandy wall with ribs radiating in disarray laying on the sand to either side. There was no form or shape to them, just timbers that vaguely resembled the shape of a sailing vessel.  Unfortunately, there had been so much damage done to the wreck site by souvenir hunters wielding chainsaws, it was voided as a potential archeological site. There was not much left of it, just scattered timbers here and there with a few still attached to the main spar extending out from the sand wall. A lot of the debris had been stacked into a pile of rubble. The people who drove the Blazer were friendly enough, but seemed a bit uneasy about me being there. They replaced/hid their chainsaws inside the Blazer and simply kicked the sand around looking for artifacts. More than likely they saw the stenciled C.G. Station Umpqua River across the back of my field jacket and thought I might be investigating the situation or something. Actually I was, but not in the context of what they might have thought.

Regardless, they left a few moments after I arrived and I had the place to myself. I searched the loose timbers and found one S-shaped and partially broken brass spike that had been used to hold two pieces together. After that, I found a rusted out iron spike and some broken glass. The sight had been pretty well worked over so not much was left. Eventually, I moved closer to the sand wall from where the timbers extended out, and saw what looked like the bottom of an old bottle sticking out of it.

 I brushed away the loose sand. To my dismay, an old wide mouth medicine bottle with a cork stopper still in place, rolled to the bottom of the wall. It looked like some kind of substance had dried and stuck to the inside surface. The cork was still intact, but quite fragile. I stuck the bottle inside my coat pocket. A short time later using my hands to scrape the sandy wall another bottle appeared. This time it was an old Listerine bottle, again with a cork stopper still attached. I could tell it was old because of the kind of top it had, the embossed lettering, the coloration, and the fact that air bubbles were scattered throughout the glass. There was still some kind of liquid inside, just a small amount..water I thought, and I carefully removed the cork and took a sniff. To my astonishment, it smelled like...Listerine. Go figure. My guess, both bottles were from the sickbay/medical supplies on board the schooner. (In spite of my best efforts, although I still have that first medicine bottle, I was unable to find it for a photo to be included.)

I found no other artifacts of consequence during my stay, just some loose odds and ends, broken glass, and some small pieces of wood. The evening was fast approaching and I had a long walk back, so I said farewell to this symbol of a lost era. I wish now I would have returned and spent more time there searching that sandy wall for more amazing things to discover. I still have those few pieces of history I did find, and will from time to time hold them in my hand as I recall the events of that day. The old Listerine bottle helps to date the wreck from somewhere around 1905 - 1910 which corresponds with the date (Feb 3, 1907) the Alpha ran aground.  The corks that were still in the bottles, after being exposed to the drying properties of the air, rapidly deteriorated and crumbled away. 

I suppose I have always had a fascination with history in general, and historical artifacts and the events surrounding them...I have a few other old pieces I've found over the years; old farm tools, harness fittings, things like that. I also cannot help wondering about the people involved with such places. It must have been a frightful experience to be onboard that schooner and tossed around by a storm to run aground. Not sure how many people lived or died during that dreadful encounter way back then. I can only speculate on what might have happened. All I know is those two bottles, brass and iron spikes, are part of a continuous timeline that began while the schooner was being built, to eventually end on that lonely stretch of beach. 

A single day hiking for miles along the ancient beach inserted me into the historical timeline of a sailing schooner shipwreck, a timeline that continues even today when I hold those few articles in hand. Each time I am returned to that blustery day to revisit the sights and sounds of an amazing adventure. Having done so, well...it has to be one of my best Walter Mitty adventures and discoveries of all time.

Digesting The Moment

 March is the longest of months. Seems that way because it can never decide what it wants to do. At times it throws teaser days around with abandon ushering in warm spring-like temperatures only to turn blustery and cold again with a vengeance. Gentle winds transform into a roaring tempest, then filter back into a near calm spirit. A brilliant sun can fill the landscape and encourage it with the clearest of blue skies and then clouds blow in so thick as to turn daytime into a discouraging dusk at mid-day. Blooming trees, lured into an early display of flowers, are often zapped back into a muted wrinkled state. March is indeed the longest of months, and by months end, my spirit is often in need of some lifting.

March is for me the most difficult month to stay motivated. Those teaser days lure your aspirations with anticipation, then dash them, as finicky weather tosses them back into dormancy. Even so, there are moments I force myself to pick up my camera gear and get out. The scenery is often bland this time of year, but the trick is to find a way to digest the moment. 

The other day I took an easy stroll through the woods outback and stopped at a nearby pond. There was a bit of a breeze and a chill in the air, but the woods surrounding the pond served to muffle the effects of the wind. I found a somewhat dry spot and plopped down to lean against a tree trunk. Over the next thirty minutes or so, I really did not do much, just sat quietly and watched the ripples push a few dried leaves across the pond and listened to the breeze as it reached across the tops of the still dormant trees. Only a few early season, green clusters of leafy foliage broke the mundane gray and brown prevailing color. A few birds joined me; a cardinal, a titmouse, a chickadee or two or three, and some crows added their annoying squawking to the sounds of the afternoon.

I really did not take very many photos, just a snapshot or two. Mostly, I just enjoyed the quiet...digesting the moment. After sitting for a while, I continued my stroll crossing the open area between the two patches of woods and walked along the outside edge of the far one. All the fields were filled with debris and stubble, soybeans and corn. Toward the far corner of the woods before it opened up again into another field, I crossed through the outer edge and stepped onto the wooden bridge that spanned a low swampy area. As I stood on the front edge of that bridge, some movement caught my attention to my left. At first I could not make out what it was, then it moved again about 30 feet away; a migrating woodcock. He had stopped in this thicket, as they so often do, searching for a juicy worm to eat by probing their long beak into the soft mud. I raised my camera to attempt a photo but he spooked before I could capture him. A short time later, I jumped him again a bit further down along the outer edge of the woods. I never saw him the second time until he jumped. It's amazing how well camouflaged they are.

Before long, I had made my way to the far end of the woods and angled across the back edge of the cornstubble field to the other pond. As I carelessly approached, a couple of deer trotted off through the woods. Should have known they might be there. I stopped for a few moments next to that small pond and listened to the wind again as it moved the tops of the trees and jostled a grove of cedars into activity.

I made my way back toward home, sidestepping and zig-zagging around muddy pools of standing rainwater. When I crossed over the backside of my yard I stopped for just a moment to sit in the old porch swing we have set up out there. The firepit was cluttered with debris and filled with leaves...time to clean it up and get it ready for a new season...but not today. Today I'm just digesting the moment and allowing nature to say a few things. I suppose the best way to do some digesting is simply to allow nature to hold you captive for a while. As far as that goes, nature can hold me captive anytime of year...even during the longest of months...

The Meadowlark and the Prairie Pond

The tallgrass prairie, once covering over 400,000 square miles, as a continuous ecosystem was virtually destroyed in a few short years. By 1900, over 95% of it was lost to agricultural development and urban sprawl. However, a few remnants still exist. One of my favorite locations to visit and photograph is Oklahoma's Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, just north of Pawhuska, Oklahoma. It's almost 40,000 acres of original tallgrass prairie is the largest tract of protected and unbroken tallgrass prairie left out of the few scattered remnants of what once stretched from southern Canada through the central portion of America all the way to the Texas gulf coast. 

It is one of the few places where horizon to horizon vista's of tallgrass prairie, unmarred by man made structures can still be observed. I've made a good number of visits to this remarkable landscape over the years and have yet discovered all of what it has to offer. It's been a few years, Spring of 2019, since my last visit; circumstances has prevented my return, but I from time to time revisit this amazing landscape through memories and the thousands of photographs I've taken there.

Recently, I browsed through some of the images and spent some time examining a single photograph; The Meadowlark. It perhaps captures one of the most enduring elements of the prairie and that would be the myriad of wildlife that can be found there. Here is the story of how this image was captured.

On my last visit to the preserve a few years ago, my intent was to spend upwards to a week camping in a nearby campground, and spending the days driving through and hiking into and across this landscape. As luck would have it, I was greeted with thunderstorms, heavy rain, lightning, and tornado warnings which lasted for most of my time there. As a result I pulled out a day or so early having been thoroughly water logged. Although the rough weather curtailed a lot of my plans, it did not prevent me from exploring and photographing. 

One of the more productive locations I explored was a small prairie pond located just a few dozen yards or so from the gravel road that winds its way through the preserve. I suppose it was about mid-day on my second or third day, there was a lull in the rain and I decided to spend some time just sitting near that pond. With my tripod and 50-500mm lens I found a somewhat dry place to sit and just waited for whatever might appear.

Over the next few hours a good number of migratory birds including Long Billed Dowizers, one American Avocet, several kinds of Sandpipers, ordinary black birds including a Redwing Blackbird, and Killdeers which were fun to watch with their broken wing antics trying to lure me away from their nesting sight. There were a few Common Terns buzzing around performing aerial acrobatics, and a few Meadowlarks that spent most of their time riding the tops of the tallgrass stems that surrounded the pond.

One particular Meadowlark landed about twenty five yards or so from where I sat. He was just out of range really where I was unable to capture any kind of close up shots, but his striking yellow and black coloration stood out against the green of the prairie grasses. It just so happened that he perched on a stem that made him just about eye level with me. Slowly, I scooted across the damp ground lifting my tripod carefully forward. I closed the distance a few yards when the Meadowlark spooked and flittered a few yards further away, stopping again clinging to the tops of a tall stem of prairie grass.

I stopped moving, positioned my camera and zoomed out to 500mm and focused on the smallish figure of the bird. Between me and the bird and also behind the bird were thick layers of tall grasses which became blurred as a result of the exposure values. The overcast skies generated a soft filtered light across the landscape, and I snapped several images before the Meadowlark decided to move on.

I really did not know what I had until several days later when I returned home and began to rummage through the thousands of photos. This one stood out as it represented nature at its best and an environmental portrait of a beautiful prairie bird.

I'll never forget that trip. It was unique to say the least with the stormy weather. In hindsight, it was the stormy weather that helped to present another unique side to the Tallgrass Prairie; Nature in its raw form always creates the most demanding of changes, and change is what a photographer is compelled to capture.

The "Brick" - Argus C3

 My dad passed away a few years ago. He was one of those unsung guys who could be counted as among " The Greatest Generation", having fought during WWII on the Island of Leyte, Philippines as part of General MacArthur's return. He also fought in the bloodiest battle of the Pacific War on the Island of Okinawa. He was attached to the 96th Division, 321st Combat Engineers. It's an odd story really how he became assigned to an engineering outfit. You see he was not very mechanical; barely knew which end of a hammer to hold, but he did have a year of college behind him and while in college he took a photography course. Somehow or another, the Army in all of their infinite wisdom thought his photography skills might be useful in an engineering outfit, so that is where he ended up. He did take a lot of photographs during that time, not one was ever used by the combat engineers. His camera of choice was the venerable Argus C3, otherwise known as "The Brick".

Of the meager possessions he owned at the time of his passing, the only one I truly wanted was his Argus C3. It was not the actual camera he carried across the Pacific, but another one his good friend from his college and army days found and bought for him many years later. It is indeed a brick and earned that nickname because of its reliability and ruggedness, not to mention it is about the size and weight of a brick.

The C3 was manufactured by the International Research Corporation, Ann Arbor, Michigan starting in 1939. They changed their name to Argus in 1944, about the time my grandfather purchased it for him just before my dad shipped out. A little research revealed it cost about $70.00 which was a substantial sum back then for a camera. Being my grandfather probably did not earn more than about $150.00 per month at the time, it was a real sacrificial outlay of funds for him to buy it.

My dad during his WWII
Army days - circa 1944
Taken with his Argus C3

He took a good number of Kodachrome color slides, most of which have been lost over the years, and he also took a lot of black and white photographs of his time overseas. I have a precious few of them in my collection. Many of them were damaged while overseas by fungus and mildew because of the humid and often damp and hot conditions.

Not sure what ever happened to his original one, but the substitute camera his friend purchased for him was probably manufactured in 1955 according to the serial number.

A while back I loaded that old camera with a roll of 35mm black and white film and shot a roll through it. The focus, being a rangefinder, was a bit off, as the focusing knob was really hard to turn, but it was fun to give it a try.

Heavy Equipment Operations
Taken with the old Argus C3
circa 1944/1945

I suppose as I have grown older, nostalgic reflections have become more important to me. Possessing that old camera and the history surrounding that particular model as it relates to my dad, well, it's just hard to place a price on such a thing. I break it out ever so often just to feel it in my hands, and yes it does weigh almost as much as a real brick. We've all been spoiled today with the technology of digital cameras and computers. Back then, you really had to know what you were doing to obtain a decent photo. 

I don't know, maybe I will give it a try again someday, if I can find a place that will develop the film. Just holding on to it and gazing through the fuzzy viewfinder is almost like looking through a time machine. Sometimes I wish I could travel back in time in cognito and visit my dad during those war years and observe first hand just how important that old camera may have been. Even though the one I do have is not the same camera he carried, it's close enough and serves as a connection between two era's. Photography, it seems, has indeed connected me to my dad's legacy.

Me and Walter Mitty: A Great Deal In Common

 Have you ever met Walter Mitty? He's a friend of mine, well, not in any kind of real sense, but he and I share a great deal in common. Walter Mitty, if you are not familiar with him, is a fictional cartoon character, created many years ago by James Thurber around 1939. Walter was this guy who liked to daydream and in his daydreams became a swashbuckling, bigger than life heroic character. The reality of his life fell a great deal short of that, as he was actually quite timid and mundane. Yet, his alter ego transported him into a world of adventure far removed from the boring and simplistic world in which he lived. 

There are times I still feel like Walter Mitty. Growing up I lived so many daydreams I sort of got lost in them at times. Daydreams like becoming an astronaut, or a great athlete were common, but my favorite was dreaming about being a fighter pilot who ruled the skies zooming here and there challenging the bad guys in duels of bravery. Needless to say, none of those things ever came true. I suppose there were many reasons for that, but truth was, my dreams were bigger than my ability to turn them into reality, at least that is the excuse I fall back on when those melancholy thoughts about how, windows of opportunity have closed, begin to resurface. 

Recently, I re-read Chuck Yeager's biography called "Yeager". Chuck, of course, was the guy who first broke the Sound Barrier flying the research airplane the X-1 way back in 1947. He was just a country boy who grew up in the hills and hollers of West Virginia who became a war hero ace fighter pilot who turned test pilot. He went on to become one of the most celebrated pilots of all time. I guess what captivates me about Chuck is how he jumped on the opportunity when it presented itself. He said about himself, "I was at the right place at the right age in the right time of history..." And, so he was. He was not highly educated but had an uncanny understanding of mechanical things and a natural instinct when it came to flying. It was those instincts that pulled him out of some pretty hairy situations. He also said, "The secret to my success was that I always managed to live to fly another day..."

Chuck was no Walter Mitty, he was who Walter wanted to be but never was. I've read about a lot of bigger than life characters, but Chuck Yeager stands apart from all the rest, and I believe America needs more Chuck Yeager's now more than ever.

Yeager also wrote another book called 'Press On'. It's a follow up to his biography but concentrates more on his hunting, fishing and outdoor related adventures. Mixed in with all of those stories are tales of his flying exploits. It mostly takes place after he retired from the Air Force and what impressed me about it was how he just kept on going trading one kind of adventure for another. I would have expected nothing less from the guy.

By now you may be wondering where I'm going with this story. I guess it is to encourage anyone to keep on going in spite of your age or circumstance. It's okay to have dreams and its okay not to have all of them come true. Even though Walter Mitty an I have a lot in common, there are differences. You see even though I never fulfilled my wildest of daydream, I did manage to have some adventures along the way. Those four years I spent in the U.S. Coast Guard performing search and rescue work, for example, were without a doubt the closest I ever came to a swashbuckling adventure. I still claim those years were the defining moment of my young adult life and who I am today is still influenced by what I experienced way back then. I more than likely would never have pursued the outdoor adventures I've managed to live in recent times had I not served those few years so long ago. I have hiked and backpacked parts of the Rocky Mountains, hiked long stretches of rustic beaches, canoed crystal clear waters and spent time simply laying on the creek bank soaking in the moments. I met and fell in love with the love of my life, Kris, who has been my life partner for over 41 years now. I've learned about how to capture the natural beauty of the world through photography, and pursued and finished a thirty year career as an IT specialist. And now, I am retired.

Oh, I still daydream from time to time and wonder...what if...had I challenged myself when I was younger to follow through with those daydreams. Even so, as I've grown older, I realize just how important those daydreams were, for they helped to mold, encourage, and lift up a young boys imagination, and self awareness enough to where his reality and Walter Mitty's deviated away from each other ever so slightly to where he and I live different lives, and I would not change any of it.

Behind The Scenes: More Than Just a Photo

 I love all four seasons, it's just I love the fall season a little more than all the rest. There is something about the allure of fall. It is as though nature is providing one last splash of color and drama before the dormancy of winter sets in. I suppose that may be why I reserve a portion of the fall season to get out and explore not only photographically, but explore the inner self as well, by testing and challenging myself to step deeper, stride longer, and search with more depth for a more fulfilling moment alone with nature. 

In recent years and through various seasons, I have taken a bunch of photos most of which are ordinary captures of ordinary moments. However, a few stand apart for they tend to capture a moment in time captured within the realm of an extraordinary experience. This single fall scene photo taken in the backcountry of Mammoth Cave National Park is one such photo. On the surface it appears to be just another woodland photo highlighted by early season fall colors. Behind the scenes, it represents a favorite discovery where time and place blended with an unusual circumstance.

I was backpacking into the backcountry of the park early in October of 2022. My troublesome hip slowed me down as it has done before. Slowed, but not detoured, as I stumbled onto a old cemetery where a good number of old and weathered headstones stood. Dates on some of the headstones drifted back well into mid-1800's. Somehow along the way, I had missed a turnoff I needed, to head down to a campsite I had reserved for the first night. By this time I was tired and my hip hurt, so, I decided to setup camp off in the woods a few yards from the cemetery. The next morning I would continue on to my intended destination at a second campsite, my favorite, called The Bluffs.

All through the day, I kept hearing the laughter of a small child. Faint as it was, it was clear enough to catch my attention and I kept looking up trying to determine from where it was coming. I never did. I kept faintly hearing it at random with no discernable pattern or direction. Also, all through the afternoon, I struggled to capture any kind of meaningful photos. I just wasn't feeling it.

Eventually, I meandered back to the cemetery and took a closer look at the headstones. To my dismay, there were a good number of young children buried there having died long ago at very early ages ranging from as few as a couple of months to a few years old. As I was looking at the headstone of a young boy, I again heard the distant laughter of a child. Because it was windy that day, I figured it was just the wind creating an odd creaking sound through the tree branches. But the laughter continued randomly off and on up until just after sundown.

The next day I broke camp and hiked the short distance to The Bluffs. After setting up camp a second time, I spent a good part of the afternoon continuing to search for a meaningful photo...and ever so often, I would hear the faint sound of a child's laughter, only this time it seemed to be coming from in the direction of the cemetery, about a mile or so away in a straight line.

Late in the afternoon, I worked my way around the edge of the bluff and up the slope on the far end, about a third to half of a mile or so from the campsite. Across the canopy the trees were in their full fall colors, with some of the lesser vegetation still green. Nothing was jumping out at me photographically until I arched my way closer to the far end of the bluff and looked up. Standing there was this one dead tree, seemingly anchored along the edge of the bluff and reaching toward the sky. Surrounding it stood a myriad of other trees and foliages. I framed the shot and snapped the image. Oddly enough, when I think back on the moment, after taking that photo, I cannot recall ever hearing that laughter sound again.

Every photo has a story that surrounds it, within and through it. This one was unique in that it was captured during an unusual, somewhat haunting span of time. Since then, I have wondered what it was I heard on trip. Was it the wind...or was it something that simply cannot be explained. It matters not, I just know there is more to a photo than just the image. Each one is connected to a story, and serves as reminders of moments from times past, much like the headstones that serve to remind us of the lost stories of those children buried in that old cemetery. Since that day, I have wondered about their stories, but I suppose I will never solve the mystery from where the haunting laughter of a child came.

Other Links

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/2887971606745077770/640721479560565135

Video Link

https://youtu.be/DL6reEx6qqg

A Look Back: Old Stores

 

The near ancient timbered floor creaked in time with the deeper reverberation created from the clomp of each step. That clomping sound seemed to flow outward, but not return, only to be absorbed by the brick and mortar and wooden framing within the walls. Old buildings tend to sound the same, feel the same with their often tired yet not yet broken spirit. They have a feel about them newer buildings will most likely never have. It is a feeling of time and place, of history and story. Their sounds, their feel, their aroma, all provide a manner of time travel where one is instantly removed from the here and now and transported back to earlier days. They were days which held their own hopes and dreams as different as they might have been from today, yet just as real, just as important, maybe dare I say, more so than today.

Wister circa 1915

A few years ago, Kris and I made a stopover visit to my old hometown in Oklahoma. While there, we entered into an old building on the south end of town across the old railroad tracks. The building was an antique shop at the time of our visit. I remembered this old building from my youth. As soon as I walked up the weathered stairs onto the front porch area and entered, I was transported back to my youth growing up in southeastern Oklahoma in the small, Mayberry-like town of Wister. Even then in the mid-1950’s Wister was an old town and all the buildings were made of weathered and faded red brick, on the sides of which were painted the remnants of advertisements for Big Chief writing tablets or Bull Durham tobacco. My grandparents for many years ran a “Dry Goods” store known as “The Dixie Store”, a two story, long squared off building.

Made of brick like all the others it stood alone just on the south side of the railroad tracks. Inside were wood and glass counters containing various sorts of small merchandise from that early 20^th century era. The walls were adorned with lady’s calico dresses, men’s work overalls, boots, hats and other assorted necessities used by the blue-blooded working class of America. And, of course, there was the floor…the wooden floor which more than likely generated the same creaks and moans from foot steps that faded toward the back of the long rectangular structure.

Just down from “The Dixie Store” maybe a couple hundred yards stood the old mercantile store my Aunt Mae and her husband ran. Look closely at the photo on the right. In the distance you'll see a building partially hidden by another brick building. It has an overhang and a white front.

Mae was my grandfather’s sister, and she and her husband ran the quintessential grocery and general merchandise kind of store. I remember well as a young lad running up and down the front isle. The sound of the old wooden floor creaking and rumbling underfoot. I can even remember how certain boards would bend and give when weight was applied and of course, the aroma and ancient feel of the place. That old mercantile building had a look and feel all its own where old timers sat on the front porch in a set of rocking chairs wasting the day away.

“Slow down there boy…” they would say with half a laugh as I ran up the wooden steps to the heavy wood and glass front door. My grandmother would follow behind and they would nod their approval, “Morning Miss Ophie…”  “Morning Jack,” she would reply. Then with a brassy clunk as she pressed down on the door handle, we would go in. The door always seemed to stick and required a small jerk to pull it loose, then in a wide swing outward the old hinges would creak in protest as the door opened. On the day Kris and I visited, I reached for that same door handle. When I heard the brassy clunk and felt the door stick and wobble as I pulled it open, I felt like that 5 year old boy again taken back in time.

The world changed inside that old building. Outside in the summer drifted a torched, red-hot, dusty day with the cicadas screaming in the background. Inside it always felt cooler with the out of balanced overhead fans spinning from the high ceiling, creaking with each wobble. At least they stirred up the air and it felt cooler. It always seemed busy when we went inside. My first appointed mission was always to check behind the front counter where Aunt Mae always kept a small box of candy and bubble gum. I’d help myself at my grandmother’s chagrin. (When Kris and I stepped inside, those same old wobbly fans still stirred the air. My eye instantly drifted toward the counter on the right. I'd swear it was the same one from all those years before and I was tempted to take a peak just inside the back corner to see if there was any candy or bubble gum.)

“You ask before you take something now…” my grandmother would remind me as I opened the bubble gum I had extracted, then I’d pout and Aunt Mae would smile say it was okay…and off I’d go as happy as a three or four-year old boy ought to be. 

Those days were certainly simpler times having been tempered by more difficult days just a few years before. They were still connected by what many might consider outdated today…good manners, politeness, generosity, church on Sunday, a slowness of pace, a connection to family, a purpose in life other than just for self. Life certainly was slower, then, with far fewer distractions and a great deal more self-reliance. Sometimes I feel like the world has forgotten how to be like that. Well, as far as that goes, I suppose, so have I. All it takes is something as mundane as a creaking, worn out old door to shake me out of today’s hectic pace of life.

The Dixie store was long ago torn down, but it still stood when I was a young boy. All that is left now is just a concrete slab, and that may not still be there. The mercantile store Aunt Mae ran as far as I know, the building is still standing, it's been a few years since our return visit. Around 1950 or so, before I was born, my grandparents opened their own dry goods store on the other side of the tracks and did quite well until around 1967 or so. 

The new Dry Goods store - circa 1950

 During the 1960's there were two devastating floods   that all but destroyed the old nature of the town.   After the second one, my grandparents gave it up   and retired. 

 Whenever I enter an old building today and feel the   wooden floor, and breath in its ancient aroma, my   heart is instantly transport back to 1955 where the,   even then, old buildings simply by being there   created a wonderful Americana memory. Come to   think of it, 1955 felt more like 1905 in many ways. I   love old stores and I feel more like my old self after   having visited one.

What Makes Great Light? - Shoot the Angles

A line of thin clouds drifted a few degrees above the western horizon as the sun hovered between their opaque layers. This late afternoon light just before sundown cast a softly, shadowed, golden glow across the corn stubble field spread out in front of me. I hunkered behind a makeshift blind made of camouflaged burlap with my camera peeking over the top edge. Dressed in full camo myself I hoped to blend into the dark green backdrop a cluster of cedar trees provided. 

Across the field almost directly in line with the setting sun a few deer meandered here and there feeding on various shoots and probably spilled corn that still sat in the fields. One of them was a young little buck with what appeared to be a set of spike antlers, but turned out to be a set of six point antlers that protruded almost straight up. The closer he came, the more photos I snapped, none of which I felt were too exciting. Just as he approached the woods to my right, he stopped and the sun slipped below the thin veil of clouds throwing a warm glow across the field and into the woods. The little buck turned toward the woods and lifted his antlered head with an alert posture. The angle of the sun was such that only a few highlights accented across his form and the edge of the woods were bright enough to see clearly. I adjusted my exposure, purposely underexposing the image so just the highlights would become prominent. I snapped a couple of shots just before he again dropped his head and meandered into the woods.

Later that evening as I thumbed through the images from the days shoot, I wasn't impressed with all that many of them. Most were simply ordinary, until I came across this last series. With a closer look, the image stood apart from all the rest as the light created a unique look, a look that was enhanced by the angle and color of the light.

What makes good light when it applies to photography? The answer of course is rather subjective as it depends a great deal on what you attempting to photograph. However, when I dig into the question as it applies to how I approach photography, it becomes apparent that the angle of the light is a key ingredient. If you follow this blog very much at all, you will discover that many of the articles deal with light and how it by far is the most important element in nature or landscape photography. Subject matter is important for sure, but without extraordinary light, any natural subject will look, well...ordinary. 

When I browse through my favorite images, one thing stands out; virtually all of them were made using light coming from an angle. Angled light is what creates shadows and highlights. It also illuminates the subject in ways that direct light cannot. Angled light will often penetrate through the subject generating a luminosity that will often set the subject aglow. This after-glow gives life to the subject, especially things in nature like plants and clouds, and small critters. It brings out detail that would not be seen otherwise. It really does not matter what your subject is whether it be a person, a wild animal, a tree, a cloud, a single leaf, a flower, a drop of water...I could go on and on, angled light is the key to capturing mood and emotion.

 A single flower illuminated with front light may capture a technically good photograph of the flower suitable as an illustration, but will stir little or no emotion from the viewer...and being able to generate emotion is what sets apart ordinary photos, from extraordinary photos.

Even soft diffused light can be considered angled light because the light comes from all angles and thus illuminates the subject along with the background with a natural glow. This can also be used creatively within a wooded environment where only diffused light filters downward, through the canopy of trees to cast a muffled arrangement of light onto the subject.

Angled light is what I look for whenever I am in the field regardless of the conditions. Some days are better than others, sometimes it just does not happen, and other times you hit it just right.

 So, what makes great light? Well, it is light that falls outside the ordinary to enhance the moment, suspending your imagination beyond what is simply visible, to transport your imagination into the sublime where awe is not only inspired, but is potentially elevated into excellence. 

Using Backgrounds to Complement, Enhance, and Support an Image

Any photograph that catches the eye will possess a multitude of combined characteristics to generate an emotional response. Most of us instinctively understand this and recognize the results whenever we see a good photograph. Things like focus, point of view, rule of thirds, subject, composition, color, and one very important element, light, among others, are some of the things a good photographer will look for and apply to his photography. However, it is easy to overlook one part of the equation; Background.

The background in a photograph can make or break the image. How we as photographers use this is as varied as there are numbers of photographers. From my perspective, whenever I frame an image, I subconsciously view the image from the foreground, across the middle, and through to the background. My eye rapidly advances across and around the frame to visualize what is there before I snap the shutter. It all happens in an instant and when it looks right, well the mind just knows it. Backgrounds then, for me, become the most powerful portion of an image next to light and just like bad light, a weak background can ruin a photo. They need to possess at least three qualities: It should Complement the subject, not compete with it, It should Enhance the overall impact of the photo, not detract from it, and it should Support the overall story you are wanting to portray. Let's take a look at each of these qualities starting with Complement.

A background should never compete with the subject. In the photo above, the simple green background complements the single flower. It was created by using a long focal length about 300mm, and a relatively large aperture probably f/5.6, plus the background was far enough away to allow for it to fall well outside the depth of field inherent in the exposure values. There is nothing here to compete with the subject. By compete I mean for it to be so out of place, it confuses or distorts what the subject is suppose to be. Things like powerline's are big ones. I see this all the time where there is a reasonably attractive photo with a series of black powerline's crossing overhead. 

Sometimes things like useless clutter that has no bearing on what the photo is suppose to be about can become a distraction. Many times clutter can be caused by using the wrong lense, or the wrong aperture settings which can cause distant objects to  remain in focus and thus compete with the subject. Many time this can be remedied by a simple change of perspective or angle. It is the photographers duty to recognize those things and choose a background angle that complements the subject. Also beneficial is to understand the use of Depth of Field. Defining depth of field, simply put, is that portion of an image which remains in focus while objects outside of the focal range becomes blurry. Things like what aperture is used, focal length of the lense, and the distance to the background come into play. Generally speaking, the larger the aperture the narrower the depth of field. Factor in focal length, and distance to the background, and distance from the camera...well, there are a good number of factors that affect depth of field, but using it effectively will strengthen how you build backgrounds that complement your subject.

 Complement simply means to separate and lift the subject away from distracting elements. Using a long lense, 200, 300, 500mm, and a large aperture , f/3.5, f/4.0, f/5.6, to blur out the background is one common technique to accomplish this. The use of soft, complementary colors is another technique. The background should be there just enough to know there is something there to identify a location or a moment or event. The angle and color or temperature of the light are powerful tools to apply as well. Also, a dark or light background will often serve to isolate the subject depending on the setup.

Not So Good

A background should also be able to Enhance the subject. To enhance means to make the subject stronger than it might be otherwise if it was against a mediocre background in so-so light. The image of this Cormorant is a good example of a not so good background in harsh light. There is not much appeal to this image...it's a snapshot taken in bad light with an uninteresting background taken from a bad angle. The image below of Sandhill Cranes is a much better example of how background and light work together to generate a wildlife image with much greater appeal. Wildlife photography is a entirely different animal because environment is as important as the subject. Capturing both effectively can be a challenge.

That leads into how Backgrounds should Support the subject. It matters not what the subject is. The background has to support the subject. For wildlife, think environment, for still life think in terms of effective use of lights and darks and color and how the background should impact of the image. For nature or landscape, Background is critical. Take a look at the Damselfly image below. Notice how the use of color and a soft background supports, enhances, and complements the subject.

There is just enough detail in the background to identify it as lush creekside foliage without it becoming a distraction. Also the first black and white image at the top effectively uses soft detail. Notice how the background sort of blends away into the fog leaving the subject standing apart from it.

Sometimes, the background actually becomes the subject. This can be tricky, but all the elements still apply. The image below of the reflections across this backwater slew is an example of how the background actually is the subject, yet it complements the subject story by the flavor of the moment. It enhances the subject with effective use of light and shadow, and it supports the essence of the story by blending all of the elements into a single story, a single moment of light.

Effectively using backgrounds will help to generate strong, story-telling, images. By applying a few simple techniques and training your eye to visualize how the background will complement, enhance, and/or support your image, what you create begins to express images with greater impact displaying more emotions and feelings as opposed to simple snapshot qualities. Recognizing those potential moments of light comes with experience. Applying that knowledge comes with practise both visual and mechanical.

Looking for Complementary Colors in Nature Photography - Visualize the Potential

 The other day I was watching one of those Create programs that featured a landscape painter. In this particular episode, the painter was in Venice and spoke at length about some of the old masters whose paintings effectively used what is called Complementary Colors. 

The concept of Complementary Colors is rather simple and involves two colors that fall on opposite ends of a color scale. Yellow and purple, Red and Green, are two common ones but the combinations range across the entire spectrum of colors and they do not necessarily require them to be directly opposite of each other, just within the color range being used, like shades of yellow and blue, or shades of orange and green.

After watching this informative program, I began to wonder how this concept applies to photography. As I browsed through a few recent photos I started to notice a common thread between many of them. It was obvious that complementary colors were a major part of the appeal to the images. I did not realize it at the time the photos were taken, but my eye naturally seemed to navigate toward the appealing nature of this concept.

Digging deeper into the phenomena, more and more images began to materialize with the prevailing theme of complementary colors. Some were bold and bright, others more subtle. For some, one major color dominated with only a hint of its opposite being there, while with others the distribution of the color was more evenly divided.In some instances a progressive layering of color flowed across the image shifting from one extreme to another, but fully encompassing the complementary elements.  In some cases, there were subtle variation like deep browns taking their place within the color realm of red while its opposite complementary color varied in various shades of green and pale yellow. 

It became apparent that nature is filled with complimentary colors and our eyes are naturally drawn to those combinations. What this revelation accomplishes is to open your mindset boldly enough to generate a desire to actively seek out these kinds of combinations while photographing nature.

Many times when I am out attempting to capture a unique image, I find myself struggling to see the moment. When this happens, and it does happen a lot, I slow down and simply ask myself, "What is it I'm seeing that is catching my eye...what is drawing me to itself?" 

Before long, I begin to notice small subtle compositions and more often than not, there is an element of complementary color to it.

The Moon Rise photo taken at the National Corvette Museum is an example of very bold color variations that not so subtly adhere to the complementary color theme. Within it you see the bold, redish-orange glow and reflection of the SkyDome and even the moon's glow, which are set against the bluish, purple backdrop of a dusky sky.

Although this not a nature photograph per se, it is a strong example of how the natural blend of complementary colors projects a powerful influence on our ability to recognize and see such things within our world.

A more subtle use of complementary colors can be seen in the image of yellow blooms set against a shadowy, bluish backdrop. Taken around the perimeter of a pond on an overcast day, the soft color variation blends well to create a mystique that fully uses the influence complementary colors has on our senses. 

An even more subtle use of this influence can be found in the image of a Ring-Billed Gull backlit against the shadowy bluff in the background. The shadowy bluff provides the contrasting bluish purple tone, and the gull's natural buff and white tonal shades provides a soft yellowish glowing complement to the background shade.

 There is even a bluish gray tonal value across the length of the wings. The combinations are very subtle, but they do exist and offers an interesting blend of contrasty backlight.

Even the banner page on this blog is filled with eye popping complementary colors.

Complementary colors in nature are nature's attempt at creating beautiful combinations of light.

 Many times, as photographers we are naturally drawn toward those combinations, but just as many times we may not even realize why we are attracted to such lighting effects. When we consciously make an effort to recognize how powerful and even how subtle these combinations are, you may find yourself taking another step toward being able to visualize the potential even before you ever snap the photo.