Tales of Entanglement Avoided

Last October my wife and I trekked the trails atop Hawk Mountain. Fog entangled our views and intermittent drizzle made walking on the boulders not only slow, but dangerous. I first visited the mountain on a field trip in Jr. High School. I remember being told to watch where I was walking because the terrain could be tricky. Most of the trails are rocky but easily passable in decent hiking shoes, but the lookouts are predominantly clusters of boulders. Scrambling over damp rocks carrying camera gear impressed upon me what could happen if an ankle twisted or a foot got stuck. I don’t want to sound macabre, but people have died from lesser things. The last thing I want is to have James Franco play me in some movie, so I was extra cautious.
After a while the thicker fog began to rise from the valley floor and presented some rich autumn colors for the two of us to see. Not that we were alone at the North Lookout, but most everyone else was craning their necks to catch glimpses of hawks migrating past. I’m sure they appreciated the views, but even the guide I spoke to, whose station was the North Lookout for the morning hours, informed me in great detail about the birds spotted over the past few days. I was told genus and species, quantities, flight paths, behavioral patterns and so forth for the hawks gliding their way gently through this area of Pennsylvania. I was more interested in how many broken ankles or falls over the cliffs had recently occurred, but those questions went unanswered. Eyeing my camera she assumed I was there to take pictures of the aviary wonders, so I felt compelled to resume my perch and click off a few more pictures.

Nikon D800 Sigma 24-70mm f/2.8 @ 70mm f/9 ISO 200 1/100 sec

Blue Skies and Yellow Trees

It’s this time of year that tests my patience. I look for the magic of Autumn to embrace the landscape, but I can’t wait too long. One day the leaves are green, the next they could be dried up and lifeless, laying on the ground, waiting for decay. Opportunities sometimes don’t present themselves. One day a tree starts to turn, the next it’s shrouded in fog, the next the colors are dull against a gray sky, the next bare branches look bleak and old, the next a naked stick figure poses for a picture. It can be frustrating, but right now, the search is on.

Nikon D4 Sigma 70-200mm f/2.8 @ 70mm f/5.6 ISO400 1/1000 sec

#TravelTuesday Glacier Point, Yosemite National Park

Back in 2011 my wife and I visited Yosemite National Park. Our three day visit turned into an airline debacle but we salvaged one day. At the time of our journey we were a bit on edge, about what I felt was a tiny glitch in our plans, the possibility of a government shutdown. Informing our rental car office of our destination brought gasps of “Is it still open?” and “Where will you stay if they don’t let you in the park?” Both questions were thought provoking and a bit unnerving, but what could we do? We had been planning the trip for months; it was a destination we had talked about for years. Fortunately for us the National Parks were not closed during that government calamity but we were always wondering if a park ranger would be waiting for us at the door to our lodge informing us that he regretted the inconvenience but through no fault of his own we would have to forsake one of the most beautiful places God had created on this Earth. This never happened, but I’m sure it has in recent days. The picture was taken from Yosemite Valley looking up at Glacier Point. Its peak is 7,214 feet above sea level. To give you some perspective just how high that is, the valley floor where the photographer in the orange coat is standing is 3,200 feet lower. The scale of the park is vast, and difficult to convey in pictures. The picture is actually eight pictures joined together. It was the only way to get the whole scene in. But it makes everything look smaller than it actually is. You have to tilt your head back to look up towards Glacier Point from this clearing. I recommend a visit to get the effect. But not now, while the government won’t let you in.

Rubbing elbows with the Philadelphia Flyers

I was warned, let me state that up front… I was warned repeatedly before the game to pay attention to my surroundings at all times when photographing professional hockey. During the first period I was assigned a location at ice level. What this means, is that I would be photographing the first section of the game on my knees at the end of the stairs that terminate at the boards that separate the athletes from the spectators. There is a small hole, about 3x4 inch, cut through the plexiglass barrier which credentialed photographers can use to take pictures. The advantage of this is not having countless reflections in your photograph, along with many autofocus problems. The rather exciting “keep you on your toes” drawback, is that your camera can become part of the action. After a few body checks rattled my cramped position, I spent a few precious seconds visually comparing the size of a puck, to the size of the hole directly in front of my face. The conclusion I reached wasn’t in my favor, but I soldiered on.
My position was roughly mid way between the visitor’s goal and the “Blue Line” and I was using predominantly a lens that zoomed from 70mm to 200mm. At 200mm my field of view was just a bit larger than the width of the goal. I was snapping away while Thomas Greiss, the goalie for the Phoenix Coyotes, was protecting his net with admirable speed and agility. I never saw it coming. One of the Flyers players, being chased by a Coyote, bumped my perch, elbowing my lens on the way by. Needless to say, I quickly withdrew a few inches, checked my nose for blood, made sure my eye was still functioning, and resumed my assignment, albeit with a bit more paranoia. It was a fun filled evening and I look forward to returning soon

Purple Haze

No words today, just a little color I found by the side of the road. Have a great weekend.

Nikon D4 , Sigma 85mm f/1.4 @ 85mm f/1.4 ISO 100 1/320 sec