Monthly Archives: July 2012

It Bears Repeating

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The Tennessee Aquarium not only offers a diverse collection of aquatic life, but they also have these fantastic river cruises.  Pat and I took the 3-hour tour (but the weather didn’t get rough) last September.  It was such a great experience, we decided to do the 2-hour version with Pat’s family during their recent visit.

In my mind, there would be a cool breeze blowing across the river that would somehow wipe the 106 degree heat away and leave us feeling cool and refreshed.  Or, worst case, we’d be in a cool air conditioned cabin.

Allow me to mention that when we took the sunset tour in September, it was about 30 degrees cooler and it was, well, sunset.  Between the extra 30 degrees and the very direct sunlight during the brightest part of the day shining through a mostly glass-enclosed cabin, the A/C had a little trouble keeping up.  Oh, wait, I forgot to mention that in September, there were 13 of us on the cruise.  This time around, there were about 70 people sitting together sweating.

The circumstances kept us from regretting that it was only a 2 hour cruise, at least.

On the plus side, we had a knowledgable and hysterical guide.  He kept us all laughing in spite of the heat–he may have missed his calling as a stand-up comic.  We also learned quite a bit–I think I’ve now been on enough of these tours and to enough historic sites that the history of Chattanooga is finally starting to sink in.

We also saw a lot of Osprey–something we didn’t see in September.  I was so excited by the Osprey that I stood up on the deck the entire time we were allowed up there regardless of feeling like a slowly frying egg.  There was enough of a breeze at first to prevent the sweat from pooling and dripping.  But then we turned around and the breeze died.  Everyone went below except for me a couple of die hards.  I felt bad for the woman sitting next to me when I finally returned to the cabin–I’m pretty sure my deodorant failed.

My photos also failed.  Between the extraordinarily bright sun (one of my friends recently asked if we were still the 3rd rock from the sun–I think she’s onto something) and the moving boat, I can’t say I got any really great shots.  I really wish I had one of the two Osprey chicks both fully visible, but I was shooting between people’s heads to get the shots I did get.  I’m thinking about starting an etiquette blog for photographers where I can offer my advice on tough questions such as “when is it OK to knock over a dozen tourists because they keep passing in front of your lens while a nest of Osprey is in full view?”

I suppose I will have to go on a private cruise if I want really good shots.

Slow the Circles Down

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If you have read some of my earliest posts, you may recall that I have issues with going backwards.  I arrange my life around maximum efficiency whenever possible by minimizing repetition, back-tracking, and wasted motion.

There are some consequences associated with this.  For one, I tend to focus on the goal and not on the journey.  The very physical consequence is that I frequently run into things.  I think this may also serve well as a metaphor.

Another consequence is that I often move on completely and usually without regret.  Been there, done that.  I’m over it.  Time for the next adventure.

But every once in a while, something sticks and I don’t mind going back to it over and over.  The Tennessee Aquarium is one of those things.  Every time I go, I discover something new.  Someone is awake who was sleeping last time.  Or the absence of someone else allows me to see others for the first time.  And there are certain exhibits I never tire of.  I have to refrain from block tackling all the small children at the display where you can touch the stingrays–the darn kids are always in my way.

When it comes to shooting at the aquarium, it remains a challenge.  Trying to shoot through glass is always an interesting proposition.  Between the distortions and the bright reflections in the glass, the dim lighting, and the movement of the creatures, it’s a wonder anyone ever gets a shot of anything.

Using a flash helps if you have the right angle.  I admit I love watching people with their little automatic point-and-shoots standing directly in front of the glass and getting frustrated when the image they get is the flash bouncing off the glass.  In my defense, I only get a chuckle out of this because they’re usually doing this right in front of a big sign that says “NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY.”  It just seems like karma.

I, however, usually opt for no flash in the aquarium.  This is for several reasons.  First, I’d rather end up with blurry pictures than disturb the animals (anymore than they are already being disturbed).  Second, I still pretty much suck at using a flash.  And finally, I really want to set the flash up off-camera, but that doesn’t work well in a crowded aquarium.  Try to imagine me carrying my umbrella stand around and yelling at small children when they bump into it.  Does not make for a good time.

But, when we took Pat’s family there during their visit, the otters decided to make an appearance.  I find it fascinating when looking at the otter shots that the otter moves faster than the water.  Where the water splashes are frozen, the otter blurs.  None-the-less, I couldn’t help but share my blurry, badly framed shots of the otter doing a back flip.  That was just too adorable.

Maybe next time I’ll catch a stingray jumping out of the tank.

New Sight

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Ever since our first weekend visit to Chattanooga a year and a half ago, I have wanted to peruse the Hunter Museum of American Art.  The building itself has appeared in many of my photos.  Perched high on the bluff overlooking the Tennessee River next to the Walnut Street Bridge, it’s a place I have walked around many, many times.

I just haven’t made it inside.

But, with temperatures rising into the 100’s in time for Pat’s family to arrive in Chattanooga and an enticing exhibit called Sound and Vision:  Monumental Rock and Roll Photography, it was clearly time to go.

I would love to have access to shoot the interior of Hunter Museum when no one is there.  As it was, tripod-less and hurried, I didn’t do the architecture justice.  Photos of the photos were not permitted, but it’s just as well.  The photos in the exhibit should not be reproduced by taking crappy pictures of them hanging on the wall.

I wanted to spend hours absorbing each of them.  So many of the muscians I had come to know and love were so artfully captured.  I wanted to know why.  Why was each image so uniquely powerful?  I looked at each photo going through a portrait photographer’s checklist:  eyes lit well, subject framed with rule of thirds, soft light, subject fills frame, etc, etc.  Every image violated at least one if not many of the “rules” of portraiture.  I’ve suspected as much.  If you want an interesting portrait, you’ve got to do something different.  I can’t wait to go back when I can sit and absorb some more.

We moved on through the permanent exhibits in the museum, including those in the historic mansion portion of this building.  Once again, I wish I had the opportunity to do the architecture justice.  I’m not always a fan of deconstructivist architecture (except for the inherent irony in the term), but somehow the juxtaposition of the historic mansion against the ultra-modern section works.  Apparently the ultra modern section was designed by a student of Frank Gehry (according to an employee of the museum).  There is certainly a resemblance in the style.

Later that night, we went up to Lookout Mountain to celebrate Pat’s 50th birthday.  I’m now married to a 50 year old.  It bothers him, not me.  Pat’s sister was supposed to join us, but having missed her flight from Denver, she didn’t arrive until after dinner.  We took Pat’s parents to Point Park before she arrived and then ended up back there again first thing the next morning.

An interesting comparison in the photos (at least to me):  I was shooting with my 16-35mm lens in the evening shots and with my 100-400mm the next morning.  I managed to get a shot of our building at 400mm.  It doesn’t make a very good image with the morning haze, but it still blows my mind that we can see our building from Point Park.

The Return of Dunwoody Fourscore

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When my friend Dale (from S.O.A.R.) called me and told me that the Peregrine Falcon they recently released at Rock City was continuing to return for meals and that I might get some good close ups of him eating if I could come up to Rock City soon, I decided it was the perfect time to take Pat’s family (who was visiting) up to see the birds.

We arrived early and walked out to the feeding platform with John and Dale.  John tossed a chick into the feeding box while he looked for Dunwoody (as named by Dale and John because the falcon was found in Dunwoody, Georgia) Fourscore (as named by the Rock City naming contest in honor of Rock City’s 80th anniversary).  Pat and his family crouched further back behind a tree while I hid behind a bush closer to the feeding platform.  John walked around in the open, known to the bird and symbolic of breakfast, he figured Dunwoody Fourscore might be enticed to come eat.  However, the falcon was no where to be seen.

Since it was about time for the first Rock City Raptor show of the day, we all returned to the amphitheater.

Watching the intro video for the 4th time, I still got chills watching the birds maneuver through the air.  It’s an amazing feat to watch and the video shows just how agile these birds are in slow motion.  I could watch that video all day.

But, seeing the birds live is an even bigger thrill.  Cayce gave me a special treat by flying straight at my head.  Unfortunately, she got so close I would have needed extension tubes to get a good shot of her just before her tail rearranged my hair, causing the whole audience to take a collective gasp.  It’s always fun to be part of the show.

After the show, Pat and his family went off to explore Rock City and I followed Dale and John back to the feeding platform to see if we could find Dunwoody Fourscore.  The first clue that he had been by was the missing chick.  Of course, he’s not the only raptor in the area, so that wasn’t solid proof of his presence.  We walked around looking to see if we could spot him.  Eventually, John managed to spot him hanging out in a tree nearby.  He had his wings partially spread, trying to cool off.  It was about 102 degrees by then, a few degrees cooler than down in Chattanooga below.  Dunwoody Fourscore was making the most of the breeze coming up over the cliff.

Fourscore didn’t move while I circled underneath him.  Well, not quite a circle–a true circle would have taken me off the cliff.  As I came around to the other side of him, he switched his stance, looking down at me as if he was thinking, “What in the heck are you with that big glass thing growing out of your face?”

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Off the Wagon

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After a long hiatus from shooting the Chattanooga riverfront, I had another relapse.  We’ve gone through this together before.  Usually, it’s amazing clouds that pull me off the wagon and cause a relapse.  This time, it was the chance at a new angle.

As you may have seen in earlier posts, we were dog sitting Twiggy for several weeks.  That included access to Twiggy’s clubhouse which has an amazing view.  So, when the sky started doing interesting things, how could I resist?

I went out on the 7th floor balcony and was immediately reminded I’m afraid of heights.  I can shoot from our 4th floor balcony without so much as a quiver, but our balcony is even with the building.  The clubhouse balcony, in contrast, was not only 3 stories higher, but it also jutted out from the building.  Why do I find overhangs so much scarier?  It makes no sense.  I compensated by staying back from the rail.

This made taking advantage of the level built into my camera to keep my shots straight more challenging.  I love that feature–especially when shooting a scene with as many hills and angles as the riverfront.  Imagine a tripod with a camera setup so the camera lens is hanging over the edge of the railing.  Then imagine the photographer trying to stay 3 feet back from the tripod at all times.  I was never so grateful for my freakishly long arms.

Each time I struggled, got frustrated, and took a step forward, I would suddenly see the ground out of the corner of my eye and get dizzy.  I still managed to get the camera positioned before the sun set.

I was tempted to try the in-camera HDR capabilities for the first time.  There were two things that stopped me.  First, I didn’t have the manual with me.  Second, I really would have had to get close to the camera to try to figure it out from the menus.  I decided today wasn’t the day.

Instead, I took a series of 5 exposures so I could play with my HDR post-processing software again.  Something I haven’t done in a long time.  I don’t know if my eye is changing or if I’m getting better at using the software, but I am starting to like the HDR processed images more.  Not ready to say I want to use HDR post-processing all the time, but it is nice to be able to see both the sky and the ground closer to how I saw them in reality.

That said, I really like the first two shots in the gallery, which are not HDR processed.  They were taken when it was still pretty light out and the camera did pretty well with the dynamic range all on its own.  Also, I do not like the HDR processed shots from later in the series–something funky happens with the oranges.  But some of the HDR processed shots in between are interesting to me.

Owl Prowl

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As my regular readers know, I love birds.  I can’t help it.  There’s something profoundly beautiful about birds.  I love watching them maneuver in the sky completely denying gravity.  I particularly admire birds of prey.

It only follows that I would end up volunteering for the Chattanooga Audubon Society.  And, when they scheduled an owl prowl, that I would sign Pat and me up.  (Unfortunately, Tisen is not welcome on the Audubon property–it’s a wildlife preserve and domestic animals and wildlife don’t mix well.)

Pat and I arrived just before 8PM, in time to deliver a load of bird seed I’d picked up for the feeders at the visitors’ center.  Then, Kyle, the property manager, gave a presentation on owls including their “songs” to remind us what we were looking for.

Kyle had been hearing Barred Owls on the property even in the middle of the afternoon; we were confident we would at least hear one.

Kyle had also recruited an owl expert to lead the walk who was extremely good at calling the owls.  Barred Owls are known for flying in to see who’s imitating them when called.  I once went birding with a group of experts in Columbus.  We started at 5:00AM.  The leader called twice and had 4 Barred Owls show up within minutes.  It was very cool.  I think the owls were just as amused by us.

However, here, the Barred Owls must have been up too much during the day–they had no interest in checking us out although our leader called and called.  Even in the area where they were most frequently seen, they remained silent.  He also tried Screech Owls, but we were not rewarded.  As our expert pointed out, it’s best to call Screech Owls first–they won’t go near Barred Owls (because Barred Owls will eat the much smaller Screech Owl).

While a Barn Owl might also find Audubon Acres a suitable place to live (especially if it could find a way into one of the many buildings), none had been spotted on the property, so we really didn’t expect to find any of those.

While the owls were not cooperative, we had started off the walk with an Indigo Bunting catching a late-night snack at the feeder.  We also saw many spiders and bats.  At one point, we were sure there was a silent owl in a tree, but it turned out to be a young opossum.  It blinked in our bright flashlights and gradually decided to move.  We watched it with fascination as it slowly made its way down the tree trunk.  Every part of it was help perfectly straight, including its tail, as is calmly made it’s way head down the side of the tree.

At the end of the walk, the moon was shining and we stood outside chatting.  While we talked, we heard a Barred Owl calling, “Who cooks for you all?”  Or maybe it was saying, “Who are the fo-ols?”

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When Wrong Goes Right

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We have been taking a break from hang gliding for several months now.  It’s one of those things–first we were taking a break so our knees could heal.  Then, Pat started working every weekend getting his new guitar-building business going.  All work and no play was getting old.

Then, when Pat’s family came to town to celebrate Pat’s milestone birthday with us, we managed to talk his sister into going for a tandem flight.

Talking someone else into doing a tandem flight is different from deciding as a couple that it’s something you want to do together.  There is a completely different sense of responsibility–probably heightened by the fact that this was Pat’s baby sister (never mind that she’s now in her 30’s and more than capable of making up her own mind).  While I felt obligated to make her aware that there were risks, I didn’t want to scare her out of it because it’s one of those experiences you keep for a lifetime.

As we headed out to the mountain for Pat’s sister’s flight, I had one of my mental glitches that caused me to take us completely the wrong way.

As we drove as fast as was allowed in the wrong direction on a lonely 2-lane highway, we spotted a large dog staggering toward us in the middle of the lane.  We also noticed it had a collar, so we swerved around it and started looking for houses, assuming its home had to be close–it was barely able to walk.

Pat’s sister immediately wanted to stop and pick up the dog.  I think we were all thinking the same thing, but we didn’t want to steal someone’s dog.  As luck would have it, we soon realized we were going the wrong way and needed to turn around.  By this time, we realized there were no houses in the vicinity and there was no way that dog had gotten there on its own.

When we got back to where it was, it had collapsed in the middle of the road.  We blocked traffic with our car, got out Tisen’s water bowl and gave the dog water.  Then, we managed to urge it to get into our van, although Tisen wasn’t so happy about sharing his ride.

Since our safe-harbor dog shelter didn’t open for hours, we went ahead and took Pat’s sister to the flight park.  When we finally got Pat’s sister signed up for her flight, we asked if anyone wanted a dog.  It looked like a poorly bred Mastiff.  Her hips were so bad, she could barely walk.  She was dirty and smelled like she’d been lying in poop.  She had ticks and probably fleas.  We were certain she’d been dumped.  No one was interested.

Pat’s sister took her flight full of joy knowing that the dog was safe. She said the tandem flight was 2nd to rescuing the dog on her list of things that made her trip.  She wasn’t alone in her thinking.

Mountain vs Couch

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As much as I love to be active, there’s a part of me that would really prefer to lay on the couch all day.  That part of me was screaming when we decided to try mountain biking for the first time in Jasper National Park several years ago.

Fortunately for me, I was still shooting with my PowerShot G3 at the time, which weighed approximately 1/3 what my current camera with a wide angle lens would weigh.

When the locals we talked to assured us that there was a “super easy” trail just outside of town that was only 10 miles long, I imagined it would take about an hour to cruise around this loop trail.  I planned for us to take it easy, stopping for a picnic lunch by a lake and having a leisurely day.  As we headed out for the trail, I wondered what we would do the rest of the afternoon.

When we got to the trailhead, we found if we went to the South, it looked flat.  If we went North, it was a very steep climb right from the start.  We, naturally, went South.  Of course, after about 100 yards, the trail turned uphill and we began the most painful climb of our lives.  Painful for two reasons:  first, our lungs (and every muscle in our bodies) were burning trying to keep the bikes moving up and over roots, rocks, bumps, and pot holes as we climbed.  Second, we were crawling along at such a slow pace that the plentiful mosquitos were keeping up with us.

When we encountered objects beyond our skill level to get over or around, we fell over.  Once we fell over, we had to push the bike along until we got to a flat enough place to get started again.

I pushed the bike up a hill at a run with my rain jacket on and the hood up trying to get away from the mosquitos.  I’ve been riding bikes a long time.  I’m pretty sure that “riding” doesn’t mean taking your bike out for a run.

After stopping for a quick lunch (due to the mosquitos) in a spot where we could watch loons on a lake, we turned around and started heading downhill back home.  We came to a screeching halt when Pat spotted a black bear peeking at us from behind a shrub.  Eventually, the bear figured out we were humans and took off.  We went on our way singing loudly in the hope of scaring the bear away (anyone who has heard me sing would appreciate how effective this would be).

Then, we out-peddled the mosquitos and discovered how much fun mountain biking is when you’re going downhill!  Much better than laying on the couch.  Going up, not so much.

When at last we arrived back home, over 3 hours had passed in spite of our brief lunch.  We both needed a nap–the perfect time to hit the couch.

Reconstructing History

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While in the Canadian Rockies at Jasper National Park several years ago (still shooting with the PowerShot G3), we decided to take a “rest” day by hiking a relatively easy trail to a lake at the base of Mt Robson.  We drove from Jasper Park in Alberta to the Robson Provincial park in British Columbia in about an hour.

When we started out, the sky kept promising rain (in fact, it even sprinkled briefly), but then the clouds would part and a deep blue sky would appear.  When the sun was out, we broke a sweat working our way up the easy, but uphill, trail.  When cloud cover moved in, it was like someone had cranked up the air conditioning and I would get chilled almost immediately.

For most of the walk, the trail ran parallel to a treacherous but beautiful stream swelling with the “spring” snow melt (this was in July).  We didn’t see anyone attempting to navigate the stream, so I’m guessing the water was too intense for even really good kayakers.  It seemed like getting in the stream would be a really bad idea with or without a kayak to me.

When we arrived at Moose Lake, we were further away from the base of Mt. Robson than we expected, but given that Mt Robson is the tallest mountain in the Canadian Rockies, we still had plenty of good views of it, including the glacier nearby.

As I went through these photos from 2005, I discovered an interesting phenomenon.  I believe I was feeling lazy on this particular day not only in choosing an easy trail, but in my shooting.  I notice that the metadata in my pictures indicated I was mostly shooting with a wide-open aperture, with the smallest aperture setting being an f/8.

This was remarkable to me in two ways.  First, this is another thing to add to my list of things I’ve learned–I would not shoot these scenes with that setting today.  Second, it seems like they have much more depth of field than I would expect for such wide aperture settings.  This caused me to look at focal lengths.  They are mostly under 20mm with the shortest being 7mm (if I recall correctly).  Is that even possible?  Assuming my metadata is correct, the extremely short focal lengths are most likely contributing to the extra depth of field.  I assume I was shooting with an open aperture because we were walking in the shade quite a bit, so perhaps there wasn’t much light.

It’s always fun to try to reconstruct what happened 7 years ago based on the evidence collected in the metadata of your photos!

What I do remember clearly about this hike is that Pat and I were quite irritated with one another at the beginning of the hike, but back to laughing together by the time we were ready to return to the car.  Maybe that’s why I love hiking so much–it’s restorative in more ways than one.

Maligne Lake

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Maligne Lake takes its name from the Maligne River that feeds it. The river was apparently treacherous enough to be dubbed “malicious,” although it sounds better in French. Located in Jasper National Park in the Canadian Rockies, it’s one of those places that I had never heard of before I started researching the area while planning our first trip there.

Maligne Lake is a popular destination. The tiny island, Spirit Island, located in the lake is apparently an extremely popular destination among tourists. One cruise to the island states the island “epitomizes the Canadian Rockies.” the island is supposedly one of the most photographed sites in the Rockies.

Whenever I see a claim like that, I have to wonder how anyone knows how often a particular site has been photographed. I didn’t notice any photo detectors going off while I and the boatload of people on our cruise started shooting like mad.

I did however notice a certain calm. I don’t know if it was a case of self-fulfilling prophecy with all the build up, but the place seemed aptly named. There is something about journeying across this lake to see this tiny island that makes the trip worth it, even if it’s been done by a million people before and will be done by a million people after.
Having done our tourist duty by contributing to the Jasper economy by joining a boat tour, we then separated from the crowd and headed up to hike the Bald Hills that were immediately past the lake.

We spent the better part of the day climbing in elevation. By the time we got into the hills, we were starving. At the same time, the temperature was dropping rapidly and a cold wind kicked up. We found a rocky outcropping to shelter us from the wind and quickly learned that not only big, scary predators can be a pest if they’ve been fed. At least today we had only to outsmart the chipmunks.

After a few minutes, they were so bold that we were afraid we were going to get bit. When one actually stopped and nudged Pat with its tiny little paw as if to say, “Hey, feed me!” I started to get more nervous than when we had encountered a bear! I just kept envisioning a finger getting nipped off while we hunkered down on this remote mountain and dying of some horrible illness like rabies.

We did manage to complete our lunch without any injuries, although we did lose a crumb or two. As we walked on, we passed a slumbering yellow bellied marmot soaking up what little was left of the sun. in fact, sunshine came to an abrupt and frightening end when dark clouds rolled in and snow started falling fast. Unprepared to spend the night in a snow drift, we moved out quickly, taking the chipmunks’ last hope for a grand feast with us.