Monthly Archives: March 2012

Portrait Anyone?

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The S.O.A.R. event on St. Patrick’s Day went wonderfully.  Over 200 people came and I think the event exceeded their expectations.  Watching children hold birds was especially a treat–how many people get to hold a bird of prey on their arm before they’re even a ‘tween?

As far as my venture in trying to get people to donate in exchange for photos, well, it turned out to be quite the challenge.

I did a few things right:

  • I practiced with my new lighting as much as possible beforehand.
  • I worked out a workflow ahead of time.
  • I setup my camera to shoot in JPEGs since there would be no time for post processing.
  • I took all my equipment out to the site the night before and did lots of testing to pick a good location to set up.
  • I tested my 100mm f/2.8 lens in the space I had to work in and prepared to shoot with my 17-55mm f/2.8 lens based on the results.
  • I did a lot of test shooting with my strobes at home with the 17-55mm lens.
  • I brought Pat along so he could help solve some of my more difficult problems.

I also did a few things wrong:

  • I should not have tried to use recently purchased lighting equipment at an event given my lack of experience with artificial lighting in general–it created extra stress
  • I didn’t set a custom white balance, which I really needed because of no post processing.
  • I forgot my CF card reader, which blew away my workflow until Pat went to Wal-Mart.
  • My extension cord crossed a major traffic area; Pat and a roll of duct tape to the rescue!
  • I didn’t test the process for burning CDs beforehand.  Having not burned a CD in about 10 years, this wasn’t wise.  My workflow resulted in drive failures, ruining several CDs.  I found a work around, but it wasn’t easy.
  • Finally, and most humiliatingly, a weird shadow suddenly appeared in my photos and I couldn’t figure out why.  After rearranging lighting about 1000 times, Pat came along and asked, “Are you sure it’s not the thing on your lens?”  Apparently, I bumped my lens hood and the wide part was in the wrong position, causing the shadow in the frame.  I can only explain the failure to recognize the problem immediately as a brain malfunction given this is something I’ve seen in the distant past.  Unfortunately, it’s one of those things that screams, “SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT SHE’S DOING!” to your potential customers.  <sigh>

While these mishaps didn’t negatively affect my fund raising in the end, they did negatively affect my confidence.

As you can see from the gallery, I did not exactly produce stellar images.  While the circumstances were challenging, I have to face the fact that I didn’t have the skills for the challenge–yet.  So many things to work on!

On the up side, my black and white Prairie Falcon portrait sold in the silent auction.

Fledgling Part II

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Recovering from a long day on the mountain.

Continued from Fledgling:

After breaking a down-tube on my first mountain launch, I have to figure out how to pick up my glider and carry it off the field.  I make it across the field and a couple of instructors run over to help.

All-in-all, I am not sure I’m ready to launch again.  But, back up to the top of the mountain we go.  I spend the ride back to the top hoping the wind has shifted.

But, no.  The wind is still good and there are plenty more gliders for me to break.

I set up the next glider with my hands shaking.

When it’s my turn, I am feeling nauseous.  I contemplate backing out.  But, I step up onto the launch ramp for the second time.  I get set, the instructor tells me the wind is perfect, I call clear and start the approach without hesitation.

This time, the launch is good.  However, when I look at the airspeed indicator, it tells me I’m flying too slow.  I pull in for speed, but the glider starts oscillating like I’m flying too fast.  I go back and forth trying to decide if the airspeed indicator is wrong or not.  Then I hit a small bump in the air.  My glider rises suddenly and then drops back down like a giant puppeteer has just jerked an invisible string.  I experience a moment of panic.  I start talking to myself out loud, trying to keep my wits about me.  I keep it together through a few more small bumps and find myself safely over the landing zone.

I have a repeat problem with suddenly being out of altitude.  As I start to make the final turn for the landing approach, I realize I’m too low and I square up the glider and roll it in instead.  No broken down tube this landing.

However, I do end up far from the breakdown area.  Gliders are really not meant to be taken for a walk.

The instructor who helped me after my first landing comes over and congratulates me.  He compliments me for my decision making.  It’s like a consolation prize–in spite of all my mistakes, I didn’t make a final, critical mistake.  I appreciate the compliment none-the-less.  Focusing on small achievements is, after all, how I ended up here one minuscule step at a time.

On the way back to the top, I experience a sense of disappointment.  I remind myself that my learning process has often been one step forward and two steps back.  I remind myself that I just launched from about 1500 feet higher than I ever imagined I would.  I remind myself that I stepped off that launch ramp, focused on the horizon, knowing that I could.  And I did.  I did something I didn’t think was possible until two weeks ago.  I launched, I flew, I landed, I survived.  Twice.  Maybe I’ll suggest a new T-shirt for the pro shop.

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Fledgling

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Today, we drive up to Lookout Mountain.  It’s my 4th attempt at my 1st mountain launch and the wind looks promising.

When the glider is assembled, I do the pre-flight check of my life.  I check every nut, bolt, wire, and thread as if my life depends on it.  Oh, that’s right, it does.

Shortly after 8AM, I am standing on the launch, ready to go.  I am having progressively more difficulty breathing.  I take a few deep breaths.

Alas, so does the wind, and in the wrong direction.  I sit on the ramp and we wait, hoping the wind will settle.  It doesn’t.  I back up off the ramp and set my glider down.

Three of us wait for our virgin flights.  We’ve been there 2 hours when at last, it happens.  The wind dies and starts to come in as a slight headwind.

I watch my 15-year-old fellow student launch like a pro and then step up for my turn.  I remind myself to breathe.  The instructor reminds me to breathe.  I stand ready.  I call clear and start my approach.  My eyes are on the horizon; I don’t see the ramp at all.  I have no sense of falling, but I’ve made a major mistake–I’ve let the nose of the glider pop up during the approach, which means I am, in fact, falling off the launch for a split second.

Thankfully, due to the design of the glider, I’m not in serious danger as the glider will recover on its own.  Even better, I realize the nose is high and pull in quickly, making the recovery almost instantaneous.

Surprisingly, I am not scared by this mishap.  I go through the checklist:  1) Fly away from the mountain.  As I look around and try to decide what the definition of “away” is, I am overwhelmed with giddiness–I am actually flying.  I cackle with glee.

Then, I move on in my checklist:  2)  Check your speed.  I look at the speed indicator and I am flying nearly 25 MPH.  I ease out a bit, take a deep breath, and remind myself to relax.  That’s about as far as I get before it’s time to start the box pattern around the landing zone.

I can only judge my altitude when I am level with a landmark; I completely lose track as I begin the final landing pattern.  I cut the approach pattern short when I realize how low I am.  I pull in for speed, begin the round out, and then suddenly go into brain freeze when my feet drag the ground.

Proximity to the ground does not determine when you flare and I know this.  I flare anyway.  I balloon up and then, even worse, I let the nose drop.  I try to flare again, but this never works.  I land hard on the wheels. I am unharmed but the left down tube breaks.  I get up, unhook and feel grateful for modern engineering.

To Be Continued . . .

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Anticipation

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It’s early Saturday morning.  Today is a big day.  I am nervous.  Taking on getting the word out about the event with a $100 budget for printing materials was a new challenge.  It’s an interesting comparison to have a corporate event where you know exactly who your target audience is–all their emails are in your contacts list, you have a budget in the 10’s of thousands (it was a small users conference for about 150 customers back in the days when corporations still spent money on such things), and you plan your activities based on your known audience.

In comparison, this event is the opposite in every way.  You plan your activities based on what you can do, then you try to find people who might be interested in attending what you’re planning, and you spend as little as possible to try to find them.  Social networking was not really an option for me although the other planners were able to leverage their Facebook pages and email lists.  Since no one on my facebook friend list lives in the vicinity who isn’t already participating in the event, my social networking was pretty limited.

I reached out to every person I knew in Chattanooga (which was 3 people) to find ways to get publicity.  My trainer hooked me up with a newscaster and we did the early morning news spot that I posted previously.  I sent emails to several radio show hosts and newscasters I’d heard about through my second contact (a small business owner in the same building as Pat).  That resulted in one radio spot.  So, we got a little free publicity from that.  A connection through other organizers resulted in a second news spot yesterday at noon.  Maybe, just maybe, people will know about it.

Now the question is, will they come?  The skies in Chattanooga are overcast.  There is a steady rain falling.  The weather says it’s supposed to clear for a few hours in the afternoon and then turn into thunderstorms later in the day.  We have indoor areas, but will people come out to Wildwood, GA if the weather is bad?

I’m crossing my fingers that this work will result in a huge turn out and lots and lots of funds raised for S.O.A.R.

For today’s photography lesson, I look at my impromptu portraits in the parking lot with Osceola from last night.  I see that I have taken on a rather challenging photography assignment.  Getting enough field of view for both bird and person means either using a shorter focal length or getting further back, which may not be possible.  I used the shorter focal length last night and am not pleased with the results.  There is no bokeh effect (background blur) yet in some shots I don’t have enough depth of field for both the people and the eagle to be sharp.

The classes I’ve taken don’t happen to mention how to get great shots of people holding birds.  Maybe I can find a niche for myself yet!

Day Off

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Today I took a much needed day off.  Well, mostly off.  We headed out to the training hills bright and early.  Since it’s been more than four days since I last cleared for the mountain launch, I have to return to the training hills to reclear before I can head up for my elusive first mountain launch.

Unfortunately, there is enough fog to mess up the reclearing process.  Part of what we’re expected to demonstrate is our ability to hit a target.  In the heavy fog of the early morning, there aren’t any targets visible.  We spend a lot of time waiting.  First on the fog and then on the tailwind.  Eventually, I reclear, but when we arrive at the mountain launch, the wind is crossing it’s way over the launch pad.  I can’t launch in a crosswind until I have more experience.

So, we return home once more, me still safely in one piece, but with no mountain flight under my belt.  After doing a little work, I return to the flight park.  Not to fly but to help setup for the fund-raising event I’ve been helping plan for S.O.A.R.

If you happen to be anywhere near Lookout Mountain Flight Park tomorrow, the festivities start at 1PM with kids activities, a silent auction, artists booths, photo opportunities, and interactions with owls, hawks, and Osceola, the hang gliding bald eagle.  At 4PM, the birds from S.O.A.R. will educate and amaze us, doing things like fling over the audience’s heads.  At 6PM, there will be a dinner and beer with a live band.

It will be a spectacular event, especially with hang gliders taking off and landing in the background.  Guests can even purchase a ride in a tandem glider while they’re there.  I’m pretty sure this is the way St. Patrick’s Day was traditionally celebrated in Ireland, right?  Birds of Prey and Hang Gliders–isn’t Ireland known for that?

In any case, we’re hoping to raise lots of money to help rebuild many of the bird enclosures that are in need of improvement.

While we’re setting up for our big event, John arrives with Osceola.  He pulls him out of his kennel and we all take turns holding him.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to process the photos from today yet.

Instead, for today’s photos, I have a collection of shots from last night in the early evening.  I had the classic problem of an exciting but bright sky and dark foreground.  I did a lot of shots at different exposures, hoping to be able to HDR process them together into a correctly exposed whole.  I consider using my gradient neutral density filter, but it’s round and doesn’t line up with the horizon line properly.  I probably should have tried it anyway.

I’m disappointed with the HDR results.  In the end, I like the underexposed shots with minimal processing that show the most detail in the sky the best.  Call me old fashioned.

Sunrise, Day Care, and Separation Anxiety

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Tisen has become highly attuned to my whereabouts.  For example, the other day he was lying on the couch next and I was sitting at the computer.  His head was at an angle where it seemed impossible for him to see me and he appeared to be asleep.  If I turned my head towards him, an immediate “thump, thump” of his tail followed.  When I looked away, silence.  I got up and started walking towards him, thump thump.  When I backed up, silence.  When I walked all the way up to him, THUMP THUMP THUMP.

He’s equally good at telling when I’m near the door.  No matter how quietly I slip away or what he is in the middle of, he always appears in the entrance hall before I can make it all the way to the door.

When we started putting him in his crate at night, he stopped coming into the bedroom at all.  Not just at night, but at any time of day.  We stopped trying to put him in the crate and started leaving the bedroom door open.  His desire to be near me apparently overcame his fear of the bedroom because he started sneaking in at night and where do you think he started sleeping?  In his crate.  As long as the door is open, it’s his preferred place to sleep.

Today, I took him to dog daycare.  I was nervous about whether he would be OK with the other dogs.  I had the video cam web page up on my personal computer and periodically checked in on him to see how he was doing.  He spent the vast majority of the time in a kennel.  The door was open, but he wouldn’t go out.

A couple of dogs came in and hung out with him from time to time.  The staff told me a greyhound was cuddled next to him taking a nap at one point.  This makes me feel a little better.

But when I pick Tisen up, he wants to go home.  He’s thirsty and distressed.  I suspect he didn’t drink any water the whole time he was there.  I thought it would be good for both of us to have some time apart, but I’m not sure I can handle the stress of being separated.  I’m encouraged that he made a couple friends, though.

You can just barely make out Tisen in the open kennel in the upper left:

This morning, I managed to get in about 10 minutes of shooting time at sunrise.  I wish I would have been in less of a hurry–I might have noticed I has the ISO set on 1000 and turned it down sooner.  The moon looked so cool with the clouds around it.  One of these days I’m going to figure out how to expose the moon and the clouds in the same shot.  Or maybe my future camera will.  The one I want will process two exposures into one picture.  Can’t wait!

Shooting the Breeze

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Today, I continue my quest to graduate from a 101 use of depth of field to, well, I’d like to jump up to a 400-level given it seems I’m not going to get a great shot before I die if I continue at this pace.

I was hoping for a nice sunset to play with–there are always so many interesting clouds.  I would really like to figure out how to get the clouds sharp from front to back in the image.

So, that is my assignment for today:  sharp clouds front to back.

As I gather up my gear to head up to the roof, I feel like I am doing a scene written for Chevy Chase or Tim Conway.  I pick up my tripod, swing it around and knock a glass off a table.  I set it down and trip over the leg.  I pull myself together, clean up, and then become frantic trying to find the radio trigger for my wireless remote (which mysteriously and thankfully started working again).

I wish I had a video of me darting back and forth looking fearfully over my shoulder out the windows at the fading light.  I run into two door frames, a door knob, and trip a second time over my tripod leg in the process.

I am considering changing the name of my blog to “Bumbling Photography.”

When I get all my stuff together, Pat puts a bowl of food down for Tisen, which means I have to stay until he’s done eating or he won’t eat his dinner.  I watch him eat.  He’s pretty into it, so I decide to sneak down the hall.  Tisen pokes his head around the corner only seconds later and I pretend to be setting up my tripod in the hallway.  Tisen stares at me.  I leave the tripod where it is and then return to the kitchen until Tisen finishes eating.

Finally, up on the roof I realize I haven’t missed much.  The light is not very dramatic, although the clouds will still work for my assignment.

I’ve identified two possible causes for inadequate depth of field in my landscape photos:  1) not consciously choosing an aperture based on the depth of field I want, and 2) focusing too far back in the field of view.  Tonight, I learn that maybe my lack of skill is not the only reason.

Those clouds are moving.  And I don’t mean crawling along.  I mean hauling across the sky like they’ve got somewhere to be.  Given the amount of light, stopping down for good depth of field means slowing the shutter speed to speeds like 2 seconds to get what the camera thinks is a good exposure at 400 ISO.  I play with balancing ISO, aperture, and shutter speed to see if I can get something that gives me enough exposure, enough depth of field, and enough speed to stop the motion.  I really thought it was going to be easier!

Just for fun:

Waiting on the Wind

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Saturday afternoon, we returned to the mountain launch  at the Lookout Mountain Flight Park.  We called first and learned there was about a 50-50 chance that the wind would quiet down as the sun got lower.

We stood at the top of the launch for the second time that day.  I stood on the steeply sloping concrete ramp and imagined the steps I would take to launch.  I even took the first few steps, pretending I was holding a glider on my shoulders.  I managed to get almost up to the “fall line” without getting gelatin knees.  Normally, being close to the edge of a precipice makes me feel faint.  Today, with my eyes on the horizon and the imaginary glider on my shoulders, I barely notice how close I am to the edge.

I feel invincible.

I hear my husband in the background, “Careful–don’t forget you don’t have a glider!” He knows exactly what is going through my mind, having stood here himself more than once.

The windsock doesn’t turn my way.  It continues to blow “over-the-back,” as they say.  In other words, a tailwind.  Launching in a tailwind is not an option.   We hang out on top of the mountain for an hour, walking Tisen in the woods and watching the sun get lower in the sky.  But, the wind only gets stronger.

We return home.   I’ve been cleared to launch from the mountain 3 times now, but this is the first time I’m disappointed the weather kept me grounded.

The next morning, we get up early and head on over to the mountain again.  Now that I’m ready to launch, I want to launch.

On the way, I do a calculation.  I have done approximately 150 training hill flights of 7-12 seconds each, or about 1500 seconds of total flight time.  So, in exchange for 150 landings (the part that’s hard on my body), I have gotten 25 minutes in the air.  By comparison, I should get at least 5 minutes in the air in a fledgling flight off the mountain launch.  That means I only have to land 5 times to get the same amount of air time I’ve had to land 150 times for in the past.  My knees are also excited about the mountain launch now!

But, alas.  The wind is no more cooperative Sunday morning.  I stand poised once again on the ramp, visualizing my flight plan.  We even go so far as to assemble a glider and have it ready to go just in case the wind turns around.  But, by the time of the morning where the valley is in the sun (an event that can make the wind change direction), the wind is still blowing the wrong way and far too strong.  Even the tandem flights that are towed up are grounded.

We return home disappointed for the third time in a row.  But I retain the feeling of excitement anticipating that first launch.

Tisen wags his tail listlessly on the drive home as he cuddles Minnie Teddy.

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Down on the Farm

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I was ecstatic to learn that one of the lovely women I met through S.O.A.R. has a farm they are converting from cattle pastures to sustainably grown heirloom produce.  And, best of all, they are managing the farm as a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) venture.  It’s like outsourcing a garden to someone who knows what they’re doing.

I love this concept.  It makes me feel more connected to the source of my food and more involved, even if it’s only through my checkbook.

The most exciting part is that Wildwood Harvest (the farm) was open to all for a visit and a tour this weekend!

The farm is set in northern Georgia, about 20 minutes South of us.  The long driveway curves its way up a hill, lined by evergreens.  In the afternoon sun, the rolling hills look romantic enough that I forget the back breaking work, the endless mud, and the perpetual coating of dirt that comes with farming.

We get to see the newly planted fruit orchard, the bee boxes waiting for their hives, the mushroom logs inoculated and plugged, the freshly tilled field ready for planting, the newly restored 100-year-old barn that was crushed by a tree, and the amazing collection of chickens and one male turkey who I will forever think of as “Thanksgiving.”

It’s always a little difficult for those of us who don’t live with our food sources to meet what we’re going to eat.  It’s particularly difficult when it’s an amazingly beautiful bird that keeps flirting with everything that moves.  I’ve never seen such a gorgeous turkey.

Had I known, I would have brought my camera.  As it is, I pull out my iPhone and shoot as best I can.  I get a few shots of Thanksgiving and a lovely rooster I start calling Coq au Vin.  (I figure it’s best to associate these birds with food before I get attached.)

In the house, we get to peek at the unending array of seeds selected for this year’s crop.  There appears to be 1000 seed packs lined up on the table.  If variety was a concern, it’s certainly been alleviated!

We meet fascinating neighbors who are artists from New York and swap stories about trying to find good produce.  What are the odds of meeting artists from New York on a small family farm in Northern Georgia?

We are called to leave by the barking of Tisen.  He’s been banished to the car to avoid an ugly dog-chicken encounter.  He’s either bored or trying to establish dominance over the farm dogs who know better than to chase chickens.  It’s about time to head back to the mountain to see if the wind will die anyway, so we say our goodbyes and head on our way.

My photography lessons:  1) Take your camera.  2) Shooting birds on the move with an iPhone is tough; see 1.  3)  No matter how beautiful Coq au Vin is, the soft focus ruins the photo; see 1. 4)  Chase all farm animals into shade when in full sun.

Ready for the Mountain

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I hop out of bed Saturday morning looking forward to hang gliding.  The weather is supposed to be perfect.  Even more exciting, I had an epiphany on Thursday that I am ready to go off the mountain.  Oddly, I don’t remember why.

We arrive at the training hills and get up on the big hill as quickly as possible.  There is a gentle headwind that makes launching an absolute breeze (I know, bad pun).

I have 3 fantastic flights.  I launch strong, control the glider well, and land on my feet like I have been doing this for a long time.  Since I”m on about my 150th launch, maybe I have?

Then, the wind that is supposed to be calm today starts to misbehave.  It picks up speed and strength and starts to cross.  When it’s my turn, the instructor has decided we will wait for a calm cycle so we can fly back down to the setup area, but no more flying today.

I wait and wait.  Then, the wind calms slightly and stops crossing.  I call, “clear” and start the approach.  I’m 3 steps into the approach when a crosswind grabs my glider.  I run to my target and try to straighten it out on the ground, but the wind carries me off the hill–I am airborne and headed for the trees.

I attempt to turn, but the glider doesn’t respond to my inputs.  For a split second, the thought, “I could actually die doing this” pops into my head.  Then I say to myself, “DON’T PANIC!” (yes, this is an exact quote from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”).  Instantly, the magical words that have been drilled into my head follow: “Pull in for Speed.”  And this, my friends, was the moment when I knew I was going to be OK.

Not only today, but on the mountain.  Because in a moment when my brain might have completely frozen, I gained control and was able to turn the glider away from the trees.

But my ride wasn’t quite over.  As I approached for landing, the wind picked me up again, lifting the entire glider.  I was a bit torn on whether to pull the nose down again this time since I was awfully close to the ground to try to pick up speed.  I compromised by pulling in the nose slightly and then pushing out just a little as I got close to the ground, managing a nice gentle landing on the wheels.

Ironically, I came out with fewer bumps than when I walk from the bedroom to the bathroom.  Maybe I should just do dangerous things all the time?

Tisen came running down the hill to greet me a few minutes after I’d started carrying the glider to the break down area.  I’m not sure if he was afraid he was about to lose his new mommy, but he certainly seemed happy to see me in one piece.

No photos or video from today, so I’m afraid this is a re-run:

Here’s a new one of Tisen doing Yin and Yang with Pat: