Sandhill Crane Festival

Posted by dkrashb on January 20, 2013

View of the refuge from the main viewing area

Every year, the Chattanooga chapter of the Tennessee Ornithological Society volunteers for the Sandhill Crane Festival. While we’ve gone to the Hiwasee Wildlife Refuge two years in a row to see the Sandhill Cranes, we’ve never gone to the actual festival. We decided to give it a try this year.

A small flock of sandhill cranes flying overhead

Because it’s a wildlife refuge, dogs are not welcome. So, Tisen had to go to doggy daycare for a few hours. This put a slight damper on the event for us, although I understand why dogs aren’t allowed. We chose not to stay for the birds of prey show the Eagle Foundation was scheduled to provide, for example.

Same flock, regrouping

The cool thing about the festival was the TOS volunteers. They set up scopes on the observation decks and called out sightings of interesting birds. Were it not for the TOS volunteers, I would not have seen a Whooping Crane for the first time (although I’m hesitant to count it–it was so far away that even with my binoculars, it was just a flash of white amongst a flock of Sandhill Cranes) or a Golden Eagle.

A trio of cranes

The Golden Eagle was perched amongst some trees on a far away island. I could only see it through a scope. It had its back to us, so were it not for one very experienced TOS member who knew how to tell the two apart, I’m not sure any of us would have realized what we were witnessing.

We saw immature Bald Eagles, one adult Bald Eagle in the air and a second on a nest through a scope, Ring-neck ducks, and Canvas-back ducks all thanks to the skills of the volunteers. I would have spent a lot of time figuring the ducks out and then not felt confident I had it right. It’s just more exciting to bird with people who know what they’re doing.

Same trio with wings down, up, and flat

The weather also made it exciting to be outside again. Bright blue skies, tons of sunshine, and warming temperatures all made me smile ear-to-ear.

Although, during the festival you have to park at an elementary school in the nearby town (village might be more accurate) and take a bus to the viewing areas.

The recent rains created a slight delay in our return shuttle ride. A couple of miles from where we were parked, a flatbed tow truck pulled out across the road, blocking traffic in both directions. They stopped to pull a backhoe out of a muddy ditch where it was stuck.

This ended up taking about 20 minutes. So, we got to sit on a school bus and watch while these guys used a winch from the truck and another guy pushed the backhoe with a front loader and together, they hauled the backhoe out of the mud and onto the truck. When we got going again, we passed the giant mud puddle–it was a red, gooey mess that looked like a giant wound. Hopefully the sun will “heal” it quickly.

Single crane over the lake

Fondness

Posted by dkrashb on January 19, 2013

Ahh. Sunshine. I guess it’s true that absence makes the heart go fonder. After so many days of rain, the sudden appearance of the sun was almost shocking. It started Thursday evening around sunset. A break in the clouds allowed the sun to poke through. The bank of clouds on their way out of town traveled quickly across the sky as the sun sank toward the horizon.

I can’t remember the last time I was so glad to see the sun, even if it was calling it a night.

Black and White Version

This created something of a photographic challenge. The clouds were dark and moving fast. The great dilemma between getting enough depth of field to shoot the whole scene and needing a fast enough shutter speed to freeze the clouds. The only way to achieve this is with a very high ISO setting. That means some noise I’d rather not have.

Much like life, photography is an attempt to balance alternatives to get the best possible result since you can’t get exactly what you want.

But the glimpse of the sun made up for it. It reminded me 2 lines from a poem a friend recently shared on Facebook:

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.

I started appreciating the sun more about 4 days in–the next 10 days of rain were overkill. However, after a 2 week separation, I was about as grateful as it gets for sunshine.

Setting Sun in color

I wonder if Tisen feels this way when I’m gone? He seems just as excited when I return after taking 5 minutes to check the mail as when I’ve been gone for over an hour. But when I’m gone for days, he goes absolutely nuts. It’s like he’d given up hope and my sudden reappearance throws him into an uncontrolled frenzy.

I wonder how dogs keep track of time? Tisen seems to keep a regular schedule during office hours. He gets up once I’ve made my coffee. He’s like clockwork about noon when he decides it’s time for his mid-day walk. And he never fails to start pestering me to walk and feed him at the end of the day, although sometimes he gets started a little early.

But when it comes to the last walk of the day, he doesn’t seem to notice at all. He’s content to lay on the sofa with us until well past his bedtime. Conversely, if I walk into the bedroom, he goes to bed. He does this with no regard to the time of day.

On weekends he doesn’t seem to have any sense of time at all. He will sleep in later than I can on some Saturdays. It’s almost as if he doesn’t believe I’m up and making coffee if he didn’t hear an alarm go off first.

Ah well, maybe that’s why a dog’s years are so much longer–they lose track of time.

Fading light

Weathered

Posted by dkrashb on January 18, 2013

Taken last June before the drought dropped the water levels

Water, water everywhere

We had ridiculously warm weather last week accompanied by what looked likely to be 40 days of rain, which brought with it gradually colder temperatures.

Today, they predicted of a dusting of snow downtown and up to 3 inches at higher elevations.

For those of you who have never lived in the South, there aren’t any road crews with snow plows and salt trucks to keep the roads ice and snow free. And, while the mountains may be relatively small down here, they’re still plentiful and steep enough to send vehicles careening off the road with only a bit of ice. So while it might seem a little silly to get all worked up when you’re from Ohio and living in a flat part of the city, it actually makes sense as to why the town is shutting down.

It started at noon with early dismissal of the schools. Given that it was still in the 40’s at noon, that seems a little overly cautious, but the kids were sent home early to ensure the bus drivers weren’t having to navigate steep slopes coated in ice.

Then, the businesses started sending people home and closing early. I was supposed to get my hair cut today. In fact, I was supposed to get it cut last week. My stylist was sick last week and they decided to close a hour before my appointment this week. I guess I will let my hair grow for a while. That’s OK–if it’s going to be cold, I’d kind of like a little extra insulation.

Not getting my hair cut also freed up some time to walk the dog. Since my husband’s building closed early, he came home at a decent time and joined us for the walk. We walked through Renaissance amazed at the water levels. The manmade wetland has turned into a pond. The barriers that slow the flow of water are completely submerged. The little creek that runs through the park swelled and overflowed and turned the woods into a swamp. There is no division between the creek and the wetland.

When we walked along the river, we realized the Tennessee River was higher than we’ve ever seen it before and rushing downstream so quickly, I’m surprised there weren’t rapids. But I guess all the things that would cause rapids were too far below the surface.

The boat launch ramp under the Market Street Bridge has disappeared. In fact, it looked like the sidewalk across the river was submerged as well. We began to imagine the city being swallowed by the swelling river.

While I don’t think there’s much danger of that, I did make time to go shoot from the common area balcony again. I’d taken a shot from the same spot while attending a photographic society field trip here last June. I dug that up and was amazed by the comparison.

The good news is that it’s supposed to stop raining for a while. Just in time!

Finding a View

Posted by dkrashb on January 12, 2013

There is a beam of light above the aquarium that didn’t quite come out the way I wanted

Since moving, I have been longing for a view of the riverfront. Since this is achievable, I decided to take a few minutes away from Tisen (who has been a very clingy dog since Twiggy went home) to walk to the end of the hall where there is a common room with a balcony that overlooks the river and downtown.

The lighted tree reflects merrily on the water

I still missed sunset because I worked too late, but it’s possible the sun didn’t actually set today anyway–or, if it did, no one saw it. Our weather has been shockingly like Seattle of late. I fear my ties to Columbus, Ohio have somehow drug the weather down to Chattanooga. The sun rises, but no one can tell if it’s risen or not. The sun sets and no one notices much change in light. We are on about our 4th straight day of such weather. What is it about overcast skies and drizzling rain that becomes so depressing so quickly?

In spite of the dreary weather, the riverfront always looks cheerful

On the plus side, it’s warm. It feels like a late spring day when summer is just around the corner. The birds were singing so loudly this morning, they startled Tisen. They are not the only ones confused–the shrubs are showing signs of recent new growth as if they suddenly burst into a mid-January growth spurt.

But in spite of the cheerful birds and warm mist, I am still hoping for the sun. As a substitute, I did my best to shoot the mist. It turns out it’s harder to get mist to show up in night time photos than I expected.

The Bluecross building bounced light into the fog on top of the hill above 27

Long exposure times seem to make it disappear as it swirls in the wind, moving too much to leave an impression. Short exposures make it too dark, blending in with the river, a pool of blackness except where it reflects light. I finally went for high ISO settings to get more exposure out of shorter shutter speeds.

I like the fog at night. It captures the city lights and reflects them back down in night-time version of the sunset I missed. While the colors and contrast in the sky may not be quite so obvious, I still enjoyed the view.

Fog rose off the river and swirled around the Southern Belle. As I waited, the fog increased. I might have waited longer to see what happened, but a group of German men gathered to play cards and I felt like I might be intruding. That’s the problem with a common area.

At the start of my little shoot, there was a hint of fog around the Southern Belle

By the time I stopped shooting, the fog was getting thicker

Besides, I’d left Tisen at home alone and I knew he was waiting patiently by the door for my return. I’ve started putting a sleeping mat by the door when I leave. Otherwise, he lays on the floor and I’m sure it’s hard on his elbows. He seems to always pick the position he believes is the closest to wherever I am. I am alternately honored and worried–time to take him to doggy daycare.

The fog reflects light creating an interesting effect over route 27

Missing Sunset

Posted by dkrashb on January 11, 2013

New view at sunrise–well, it would be sunrise if the sun actually rose on this day

Watching sunset from our old place

When major changes happen in life, whether they are changes we wished for and chose or changes that came unexpectedly and outside our control, they come with a combination of loss and gain.

When we choose the change, we tend to focus on the gain. When we don’t, we think more about the loss.

I suppose this is only natural. When unexpected change happens to us, we were probably not really wanting anything to be different. When we choose change, we usually do so because we’re unhappy or dissatisfied with some situation; we presumably perceive the new situation as better or we wouldn’t have chosen it.

But I have a theory. My theory is that we are at least as likely, if not more likely, to end up happier when change happens to us than when we choose change.

Same sunset, earlier

We go willingly forward into change we choose with high expectations that making this choice will have a long-term, positive effect on how happy we are. But, as my husband says, “you’re still you.” We can move, change jobs, buy cars, take classes, earn degrees, have children, start a new hobby, but we still take ourselves with us. The joy in the new change fades and we are right back where we started.

That is not to say we cannot change and grow. Only that making changes in our life situation rarely results in us becoming happier people unless those changes are preceded by a lot of soul searching to figure out what exactly we’re really dissatisfied with.

On the flip side, when an unexpected change comes along (assuming, of course, the unexpected change wasn’t anonymously receiving the winning lottery ticket), we have the opportunity to rally our courage, face the unknown, and rise to the occasion.

Sky full of gray over our new view

We don’t go into these changes with the expectation that we’re going to be happier. We go into them with a sense of mourning and loss and the determination to get through somehow. There is only an upside. Plus, it’s the scary, out of control life events that motivate us to do the kind of soul searching required to make lasting change.

I think of all the times that someone has said, “it was the best thing that ever happened to me” about something that was initially perceived as awful. I try to think of an example of any change I have chosen in my life situation that resulted in me saying that. So far, every one of them comes with caveats.

For example, we decided to move last month. Not exactly true to our nomadic intentions, we moved about 500 yards. I’m not sorry we moved–it’s quieter, the neighbors are great, and we now have 2 bathrooms (that’s a big plus!)–but there are still some downsides. For one, I miss the sunsets and sunrises from the roof. Perhaps it’s more because the weather has been so gray lately, but I really want to see the sun soon.

Last bit of sunset from old view

The sun is rising, but not within view–we get to see fog over the ridge

Welcoming 2013

Posted by dkrashb on January 2, 2013

Interesting clouds over Chattanooga

Having embarrassed myself yet again by writing my blog post way too late at night, I thought I would try writing at a decent hour tonight.

In honor of the new year, it seems only appropriate to think about what I’d like 2013 to be like. As some of you may recall from last year, I am a bit of a resolution-phobe. But, it is always good to reflect on a year past and thinking about what things should come forward and which things I’d like to leave behind.

Unreleasable Prairie Falcon in Oregon

First, I have enjoyed exploring the world through a camera regularly over the past year and a half. I don’t think I’ve gone more than 2 weeks without shooting in 2012. This has provided me with a new way of looking at the world that I can only describe as a sense of careful observation combined with vast appreciation. I notice things I have not noticed in the past. I wait for things to unfold with a patience I have trouble finding without a camera. I work at getting better with both acceptance that I am imperfect and faith that I can improve. All in all, photography gives me joy and hope. This is something I want to keep in 2013.

Parking lot in Portland, OR

Second, during some parts of 2012, I managed to strike a balance between the things I love to do and the things I have to do. I lost that balance and now I want it back. Taking time out to bike, row, hike, do yoga, and bird/teach keeps me feeling happy and makes me better at everything else I do. I don’t have to do any of them really well, I just have to set aside all the things worrying me and go enjoy some time on my bike, on the river, on the mountain, on the mat, or with the birds. It’s a simple formula that requires making room in my schedule. This is something I want to regain in 2013 and I don’t want to wait for the weather to get warmer.

Assisting at a Wings to Awareness educational program for 3rd graders

Third, I really enjoy the time we spend with family and friends. Living remotely from many of the folks in those categories makes that tough. For 2013, I’d like to have more contact with more people I feel close to whether it’s over the phone, in person, or via FaceTime, these are the people who keep me grounded.

Sharing Point Park with family last summer

Finally, I have occasionally written about finding peace and, through finding it internally, creating it externally. That’s really what the previous 3 things are about–creating a sense of internal peace that help contribute to more happiness in the world. It seems like a small contribution, but as the Dali Lama said: “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.” Besides, a small contribution towards happiness is better than a small contribution towards anguish. A compassionate, peaceful life. That’s what I look forward to in 2013.

Enjoying a well-earned view after a 5-mile hike on Lookout Mountain

Getting onto the water not quite gracefully

Winter at Point Park

Posted by dkrashb on December 31, 2012

We had the wonderful experience of having dear friends come down for a post-Christmas visit (a little more post than planned due to a blizzard hitting the midwest the day they were planning to leave).

We picked a couple of highlights to share since they only had a day and a half after the storm cleared out enough for them to come on down. Of course, we took them to Point Park.

It’s one of those places that meets many criteria for many different people. For those who want an outdoor adventure, there are dozens of hiking trails through the woods to spectacular overlooks. For those who want a nice easy stroll, there’s a ¼ mile paved loop around the top of the point that doesn’t even require climbing a step. And it still offers spectacular views. The list of increasingly challenging things to see goes on–basically, any level of physical activity or lack there of can be achieved and all levels are rewarded with amazing views of Chattanooga, Moccasin Bend, and even down into Georgia.

Pat and George pose for me in front of the overlook above Moccasin Bend

For the history buff, there are lots of Civil War memorials and information about some of the events of the Civil War related to this location. I’ve come to have a new respect for the Civil War living down here–I find myself growing more and more interested in the battles in the area.

Georgia, Paris, and Bonnie pause briefly in front of the memorial at Point Park

Our visiting friends included my bestie, Georgia, her equally wonderful husband George, (yes, George and Georgia) and two of their fur-kids, Paris and Bonnie. We were also sitting for Twiggy, and, we, of course, had Tisen. Having 4 dogs created a few logistical challenges, but it actually worked out quite well.

Twiggy and Tisen spent a day at doggy daycare together (which Tisen enjoys much more with his buddy Twiggy to play with) while Paris and Bonnie went exploring with us. Having 4 dogs and 4 humans in one mini-van just seemed like a bit much.

Remainders from the war, these canons still stand guard over Moccasin Bend

The last time we walked the loop at Point Park it was about 110 degrees. This time, it was in the 30’s, the sky was spitting at us, the wind was whipping us around, and the sun was no where to be seeing. I liked this weather better than the 110 degree day. But, with no umbrellas and the sky looking increasingly threatening, we walked quickly and skipped the jaunt out to the point. It was still beautiful–I never know if I like this park so much because of the views of because of the special people I’ve had the pleasure of taking there?

Returning to the car, we all had the same thought on our minds–we were uncomfortable in our high-tech winter coats with fleece and down and our warm, waterproof boots. We tried to imagine living through the war in wool coats and boots full of holes (if you had either).

I just like this image–the boys having fun together

We went home feeling more than a little spoiled.

Ascending Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 30, 2012

Having descended as far as we were willing to climb and absorbed the scenery, we decided to start back up to the top of Stone Door. We started our way back up the steep ascent.

Scrambling back up the fallen outcropping proved easier in terms of keeping our footing, but more difficult when it came to heart rate and breathing. I was quickly reminded that I haven’t been spending much time on my bike of late.

Truthfully, there is not much that seems to prepare my body for steep climbs other than, well, steep climbs. Every time I take the steps, I am reminded that riding a bike, rowing a sculling boat, doing yoga, and walking are not really comparable exercises.

This day, I was reminded that only stair climbing is good preparation for ascending steep slopes. I am not fond of stair climbing. I’d much rather climb a steep hill out of breath than spend hours going up indoor stairs in preparation.

When we reached the first plateau, we stopped. I pretended to want to take more shots of the cliffside above us. I really just wanted to catch my breath. But, the cliffside was fascinating. The volume of rock that had fallen next to the volume of rock still standing made my knees feel a little weak contemplating what it would be like to be standing on top of the overlook when it suddenly caved away. I hope no one was there the day the rocks fell.

A chunk of the cliff fell in what must have been the same position it was in at the top

This chunk of cliff must have fallen long ago to have been reshaped into a smooth mound

The natural overlook at the top of Stone Door framed between the trees

We continued slowly up the rest of the ascent. I’ve learned that racing up steps doesn’t pay. Racing leads to having to stop for long recovery times. A slow steady pace allows the heart and lungs to keep up so the turtle passes the hare. I learned this when hiking in the Rockies. In my twenties, my friends and I sped past a woman who was probably the age I am now only to be passed by her when we were all sucking wind later. We repeated our folly, passing her and being passed again 3x before reaching the end of our hike. She finished well ahead of us. That’s when the lesson sunk in.

We made it back up the wooden stairs and slowly made our way up the slippery, dripping stone steps through the stone door. I paused at the top to take a shot of the pitcher-handle tree at the entrance.

This crazy tree marks the entrance to the Stone Door

Having worked up a sweat, we decided it was a good time to find a flat rock to sit on and have our picnic lunch. We stayed much further back from the edge of the overlook this time–the image of that overhang was still fresh in my mind. While we feasted on our wild-caught smoked salmon, carrot sticks, and apples, the dogs chewed happily on pigs ears. Tisen had to be convinced it was edible. But once he got a good grip on it, he was sold. Good thing–he’s allergic to salmon.

Tisen enjoys a tasty treat at the top of Stone Door

Descent Below Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 29, 2012

Once we reached the bottom of the Stone Door, we continued downward beyond both sets of manmade stairs. If we’d been feeling more in shape, we might have gone all the way to the bottom of the valley. However, it was Christmas Day and we weren’t prepared to make the return climb back up, so we limited our descent to a distance we could comfortably climb back up.

The path went through fallen outcroppings of rocks. Rough natural steps were formed (or maybe occasionally placed) from the fallen limestone. But the steps were uneven with cracks and slippery spots. I nearly fell on more than one occasion while working my way down one of the larger rocks. All I could think was “protect the camera.”

When we reached the point we decided would be the end of our descent, we stopped and looked back. The outcropping we’d been standing on earlier looked a little more frightening in the context of the enormous chunk of fallen rock we’d just scrambled down–particularly when we saw just how much that overlook juts out from the cliffside.

An example of a rock shelf that looks like it will slide off down the hill at any time

Looking back at the overlook we’d been standing on, we realize how much of an overhang their is

So much of the stone looked like it was precariously perched, just waiting for the wind to pick up enough speed or water to pour down hard enough or lightening to strike or a few too many hikers to jump up and down on the overlook to break free and find its way down to the valley below.

Tisen and Twiggy were unimpressed by the scene. They were busy searching through the leaves for interesting new scents. Did they find evidence of a bear? Perhaps just a deer. Whatever smells they found, they buried their noses in them and wagged their tails feverishly.

Thankfully, Pat had them back on leashes and was able to keep them from running off on down the valley tracking whatever scent they’d picked up. To be honest, Twiggy probably knew exactly what scent she’d found–she’s a true hunter. Tisen was more likely to just be imitating Twiggy, going through the motions, trusting that Twiggy had found something really good.

We stood gazing at the fallen rocks with trees growing out of them and tried to guess how long those rocks have been lying there. I have no idea how to guess how old the trees decorating them are–they could be 20 years or 100 years old. The rock no longer looks like a disaster scene but rather like it’s settled into the earth it met with some time ago. The sharp edges have softened and fissures have opened in the rock, allowing for more trees to grow.

I like this metaphor. A big crash that seems like total destruction creates a place for new life to flourish. Lichens cover the rocks. Leaves decompose on and around the stone, creating rich new soil. The rock collects and redirects water into the fissures, watering the seeds the have fallen in the cracks. Life reclaims the fallen and uses them anew.

Through the Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 28, 2012

When we went to Stone Door for our Christmas hike, we decided to go a bit further than the last time we visited. On our previous trip, we had a second hike scheduled and didn’t have a lot of time to spend at Stone Door.

This time, having no other destination and not having worked up an appetite for lunch yet, we decided to take the steps down through Stone Door to see what it was like from below.

The steps, I’m sure, have been improved since ancient civilizations used them long ago. The rocks look to have been cut and placed for easier access. This does not, however, make them an easy descent. Especially not with two dogs on leashes. Fortunately for me, Pat took the dogs ahead and carefully made his way down the steps while I took some shots from above.

Twiggy takes the lead down the Stone Door steps

Pat holds on to the Stone Door frame while working his way down with the dogs

The way down was made more treacherous by the water dripping on the rocks. Slippery in places, steep, and uneven, I had trouble making it safely while protecting my camera from dripping water. Good thing Pat had the dogs.

At the bottom of the stone steps, I paused to take a shot back up the crevice. The “pitcher handle” at the top of the steps is a misshapen tree that looks like it might have been one of the forces that originally pried apart the rocks (not really, but its shape is pretty mysterious).

A tree forms a pitcher handle at the top of the Stone Door steps

The stone steps only took us down about 50 feet or so. The river at the bottom of the valley was still well below and out of sight. We continued down a bit further, curious to see if we would have a view of the river.

Once through the Stone Door, a big chunk the rock face has slid down the mountain, leaving a flat spot. The park added wooden stairs for the next section of the descent.

At the bottom of the Stone Door, wooden steps make for easier access

We had a bit of a dog logistics issue at this point. About half way down the stone steps, Pat had let the dogs off their leashes, feeling it was safer for all. They decided to go around the wooden stairs and headed off on a rock that came to a dead end over a big drop. I got a little frantic that they were getting close to the edge and in calling them, caused Tisen to panic and, instead of meeting us at the bottom of the stairs, which would have been easiest, he decided to leap up the 4-foot retaining wall to get back to my side as quickly as possible. He did a belly flop into the wall on the first attempt. He made it the second time and showed no signs of injury, so we allowed ourselves to snicker a little.

Tisen flopped into the retaining wall trying to jump back up to get to the top of the steps

We all made it to the bottom of the stairs together safely. We stood for a few minutes looking back at the rock face we had just come through. I imagine the stories if it could talk!

Straight, even, and not slippery, the second section of the descent went much more smoothly

nomadicmainstream

Combining living on the road with a mainstream lifestyle

Tag Archives: landscape photography