Tag Archives: Photography

Shots

Posted by dkrashb on

A funny thing happens to me after the time change.  I don’t know when to stop working anymore.  I was doing pretty well at getting to a stopping place and wrapping up my work day at a reasonable hour for a while there.  But now, the sun sets while I’m still in the thick of my work day and is no longer a good clue that it’s time to start winding down.

Oddly, I no longer notice the sun setting even though I face a large set of windows while I work.  Usually, my first realization that the sun has set occurs when I need to use special characters on my keyboard–I look down to find them and realize it’s dark.  This leads to me turning on a light so I can see the keyboard and then all bets are off as to when I will next resurface to notice that it’s getting late.

But tonight, I am determined to do a little shooting.  I’ve been practicing shooting the moon now that it’s the main subject available by the time I’m done working.  I want to get at least a few minutes of shooting in.  When I walk out to the balcony to see if the moon is visible, I see a collection of cop cars about half a block away.  More keep arriving.  I’m surprised I haven’t noticed sooner–usually the screaming sirens catch my attention.

In fact, Pat and I have a joke that Chattanooga is a 3-emergency town.  Every day, sirens go screaming by the apartment at least 3 times.  Usually this happens while I am on a conference call.  Since I use VoIP calling that’s integral to the instant messaging application we use at work, I often lose the window for my call amongst the many things open on my PC and then struggle to locate the right window to mute my phone.  Unfortunately, the built-in mute button on my laptop doesn’t mute my microphone.

Chattanooga also seems to have a 6-cop minimum.  Whenever something happens, you can count the cops that go flying by and usually it’s 6.  Often, they go by silently, thankfully, so the screaming sirens are usually limited to the fire trucks.

As I look at the scene before me tonight, I see a pick-up truck and one man standing outside the truck talking to a cop.  Surrounding the pick up are about 8 cop cars with their lights on, four of which are in the street blocking both lanes of traffic.  Traffic is backing up on Cherokee Blvd, many cars giving up and making U-turns.

After a while, two cops come back and move their cars out of the flow of traffic, clearing one lane.  As I watch the traffic start to flow around the scene again, two more cop cars join the party.  A third drives by, but apparently decides there’s no place to park and keeps going.

I think back to the cops in Columbus.  We had an interesting mix.  There was our neighborhood liaison who was helpful and gave us tips about when to call the police, which number to use, and why we should never hesitate to report suspicious activities in the neighborhood (statistics on calls are used to determine how the police force is staffed–essentially, the squeaky wheel gets oiled.)  But, the actual cops who came to the scene were often surly, annoyed that you expected them to do something, or just observers there to watch.

There was an incident where a car was abandoned in front of our property (fortunately a side lot and not our house) and set on fire.  The exploding gas tank woke me and most the neighborhood.  When the cops arrived, they basically stood around watching the fire fighters do everything.  I don’t even recall them filling in any paperwork.  When the fire was out, there was no search for clues.  There was just waiting for a tow truck to come.  The only investigation that ever happened came from the insurance company.

Similarly, someone crashed a stolen Mustang into a utility pole also on our property.  Within an hour, a second one was crashed into our neighbor’s stone bridge up the road.  When the cops arrived and I told them what little we knew, they stood there and nodded like we were just swapping stories over coffee.  Again, they were just waiting for the tow truck to arrive.  I asked the cops on the scene if anyone was going to dust for prints or collect any evidence to attempt to find the person who stole the car.  They looked at me like I had 8 heads.  Apparently finding car thieves is outside the purview of the Columbus police department.

I suspect that the entire Chattanooga police department would be on you like glue if you committed a crime here.  After all, there are so many surveillance cameras in the city, it sometimes feels like Big Brother.  But if someone crashed a stolen car on our street here, they would be caught on film trying to exit the scene.  As I’ve gotten used to the notion that I’m on camera when I take a walk through the park, I’ve noticed less.  Given that I’m not one to commit crimes, I think I’ll take the tradeoff.  I like the idea that if you commit a crime, there’s a good chance you’ll get caught.

But tonight, I can’t help but wonder what this man has done that caused 11 cops to surround his truck.  Is it that he’s believed to be armed and dangerous?  I see no drawn weapons and all looks calm.  Maybe they are just a highly motivated police force and they all want to be on the scene and ready for action.

I decide to set up my camera and take a few shots of the scene before I start shooting the moon.  As I get my big lens set up and turn on the wireless remote, I have a sudden fear that one of the cops will see my lens or the red dot on my remote and think I’m setting up a high-powered rifle or something.

I take a few quick shots, but then turn my lens to the moon in the hope of avoiding the imagined scene of panicked cops taking cover and ordering me to drop my weapon that unfolds in my mind.  I pack up and go inside after only a few minutes, my imagination getting the best of me.  Perhaps If I were more familiar with what a high-powered rifle actually looked like I would be a little less worried.  But, the humor in worrying about getting shot over getting a shot makes me smile as I call it a night.

Good Dog

Posted by dkrashb on

It’s Sunday.  No alarms, no where to be.  It’s just a nice relaxing Sunday.  Except one thing.  I feel like I was run over by a truck when I wake up.  Every muscle in my body, including all those little secret ones that I’m always surprised about when I realize I have them, is completely wrenched.  My neck hurts, my shoulders hurt, my back hurts, my hips hurt, my legs hurt, and, yes, every cotton pickin’ toe hurts.  Even my ears feel strained.

When I get out of bed, I walk like a cowboy after a month on the trail.  It’s like my knees won’t bend and I have to rock my weight back and forth from foot to foot, swinging my legs from my hip to move forward.  This is what running down a hill with a glider on my back does to me.  Who knew it was such hard work?

I get the coffee going and then, while I wait for it to brew, I do some yoga.  I end up doing a lot of yoga, trying out virtually every restorative pose I can remember, trying to ease my body back into movement.  By the time I have spent an hour doing these gently relaxing poses, I am able to walk back to the coffee maker looking a little more like I have the joints of a human being than the joints of a barbie.

I take my cup of coffee back to the couch, but instead of sitting there, I choose my office chair instead.  I have a remarkable office chair.  For my entire career, I’ve had a bad habit of slouching down into my chair and resting my head on the back of the chair.  Given that I am tall, this requires scootching my rear end all the way to the front edge of my seat and then stretching out my legs to plant my position so I don’t drop off the edge and fall onto the floor.  From behind, people think I’m sleeping.

In any case, this posture has always left me with back pain and I could never figure out why I always slip into that position when I’m not paying attention.  Well, when I bought my own office chair, I figured out why.  It’s because my neck hurts.  All these years, what I really needed was a neck rest on my chair!  Now that I have said neck rest, it gives me a place to perch my head while I’m sitting straight up.  My office chair has eased my neck pain on more than one occasion, so I give it a try again today to see if putting the weight of my head on the rest and pushing back gently against it to stretch my neck helps.

While I do this, I work on processing photos.  I might as well do something productive while I’m sitting there.  Pat got up before me and is already on the couch nursing his sore muscles.  Although, he is in far better shape today than I am.  He stopped flying early because he wanted to protect himself from pulling his hamstring again, having just recovered from the last time.  So, he did half as many flights and launched on all of them, meaning he didn’t run all the way down the hill like those of us struggling to launch did.

I resent this about him.

After having plenty of time to relax and ease ourselves into our morning in our own ways, we decide we should ride to the market today.  While I hurt, I haven’t actually pulled or torn anything, I’m just sore.  And riding a bike gently and a short distance is a great way to get blood flowing to sore muscles and ease some of the pain.  I’m totally up for that.

We make our way across the Walnut St bridge cautiously–the crowd for the Head of the Hootch is back again today, although somewhat thinner now.  We are prepared to walk our bikes if the crowd gets too thick, but we make it across still in the saddle by riding slowly and watching out for darting pedestrians.  Fortunately, there aren’t any races going under the bridge as we cross, so the darting is minimal.

At the market, we stop to talk to Lou and Eddie, the honey and candle makers we’ve met at the market several times now.  Pat has a printout of some info about a trumpet Eddie wants to sell.  He goes through what he found with him and gives him the bad news that his trumpet is not likely to sell for a lot of money.

We move on to find lunch.  We didn’t realize how late it was getting when we left for the market and after our little ride there, we’re suddenly ravenous.  We find a hot dog stand in the back corner of the market.  It’s called Good Dog, which is a restaurant located about half a block from our apartment.  We’ve eaten there once and they serve the same mustard used in the Cleveland Indians stadium.

We each order a couple of dogs and while they cook, I get into a conversation with the owner.  They are from Akron, Ohio and the owner used to go to watch the Cleveland Indians with her grandparents.  She saw an article about how the mustard on the hot dogs there was part of what kept the Indians fans coming to the stadium even when the Indians had one of the worst records in baseball.  So, when they decided to open a restaurant that serves hot dogs, they decided to serve that mustard.

When our dogs are ready, we say our good-byes after getting directions on where to buy beer.  We didn’t realize they always sell beer at the market, not just during Oktoberfest, but there are only a couple of vendors rather than a bunch.  As we make our way towards the beer, we pause to take a bite of our dogs.  My teeth pierce the skin of the dog and juice squirts out a good 3 feet.  I laugh.  As I chew my mouthful, I’m impressed.  “Good dog!” I say.

We drink our beers and finish our dogs slowly, wandering around and checking out the vendors who are there today.  Some of the same photographers are there, including one that prints the photos on fabric so they look like a photo-painting.  I do not like this look.  As Pat says, “It should be on black velvet.”

We visit the produce vendors next and pick up some watercress, radishes, tarragon, and lettuce.  We’ve decided we’ll make my favorite salad with the first three ingredients, although we will have to supplement with a few items from the grocery store.

Having eaten, wandered, and purchased everything we could use, we decide to head on home.  The crowd on the Walnut St Bridge has grown slightly, but we’re still able to make it safely through without walking our bikes.  We get home, unload our groceries, and collapse on the couch.  Having loosened some of the kinks out of my body, I’m now completely ready for an afternoon nap.  Ahh.  It’s the life of a good dog.

Head of the Hootch

Posted by dkrashb on

After a morning of hang gliding, we return to Chattanooga in time to check out the Head of the Hootch scene. The first thing about the Head of the Hootch is the sheer number of boats on the water. In spite of the fact that the river is closed to both recreational and commercial traffic for the regatta, and the fact that these boats are as sleek and trim as it gets, the river looks like it could not possibly have room for one more boat on it. As we walk over the Market St bridge to the aquarium, we have to stop and stare several times and gawk while we count the number of boats in a small space.

As we make our way across Market St bridge, the next thing that stands out is the number of people standing on the bridge. There are so many people jammed on the sidewalks on either side of the bridge at the South end that they are jumping off the sidewalks and onto the roadway to go around each other. When a close race goes under the bridge, people dart across between traffic to see how it comes out on the other side. This seems so dangerous that I wonder why they didn’t close Market St all together.

The third thing that catches our attention (oh, all right, so we could see this from our apartment before we left) is the number of tents lining the riverfront by the aquarium. There are market-style tents set up practically on top of each other. They line the street and spread out onto the grass between the road and the river. The road is closed and rowers walk in large groups, the teenagers oblivious to other pedestrians and not bothering to move out of the way when they occupy the entire sidewalk.

We make our way through the crowd looking somewhat like we need press passes. I have my tripod bag over my shoulder and Pat carries my camera bag over his. We walk down the steps next to the aquarium bridge to get under the street and out to the pier next to the fountain. I figure we’ll be able to get some good shots from under the bridge. Pat helps pick a setting by suggesting I shoot boats as they appear from behind the bridge support. These turn out ot be some of my favorite shots.

I’ve put my big lens on my camera and mounted it on my tripod. I stand behind the camera and discover that I can barely zoom out far enough to get half of an eight person boat from here. I contemplate changing lenses, but decide to stick with the 100-400mm for a while yet. I shoot the boats on the other side of the river. I zoom in and see how tight I can get from this far away. I’m pretty impressed with my lens. I’m feeling like I could pass as a professional with my lovely tripod and my nice big lens.

That’s about the time that the real professional (or wealthy want-to-be) shows up. He’s carrying what must be at least a 300mm f/2.8 lens, if not a 400mm or more. For those of you not familiar with camera lenses, we’re talking a $7,000 – 13,000 lens here. It has an enormous circumference and looks like it could gather enough light to shoot the stars at a high shutter speed. Suddenly, my big lens looks pitiful.

That’s the trouble about comparing your lenses to other people’s–someone always has a bigger lens. But when I look through my lens again at 100mm and just fit half a boat in the frame, I suddenly wonder what the heck the other guy is shooting. From here, I wonder if he can get more than one eye in the frame. I imagine some of the more dramatic sports shots I’ve ever seen and decide he can probably get some really great facial expressions. While I may have the same reach with my lens (or not, I can’t actually tell), I don’t have the same aperture opening. That means I have to have slower shutter speeds to get the same exposure that he can get by opening up his aperture wider. This allows him to freeze those rapidly moving facial expressions sharply in time when they would likely be blurred for me. I would love to see his shots.

I contemplate briefly walking over to him and asking him about his lens, but decide there’s no point in finding out what it is since I already have 2 lenses on my wish list that are in a far more practical price range. Plus, I don’t feel like embarrassing myself today by asking stupid questions. I would love to see the shots he’s getting, though. My main confusion is that he isn’t using a tripod. I wonder how he can hold that big lens without one. As I contemplate whether to talk to the photographer or not, Pat points out a large Swallow condominium complex built on the underside of a bridge structure. Their little mud huts hang, now abandoned, in a line, somehow making me think of a row of abandoned beach houses.

I turn my attention back to the boat races for a few minutes. Watching two boats neck and neck as they come to the finish line gets me excited. I am thrown back in time to my brief lessons in a learn to row class and the feeling of flying across the river in a 4-person boat when we all got into a good rhythm. I think about about how delicious it felt to kick the rears of the competing boat that day (especially when the average age of their boat was about 10 years younger than ours).

However, I don’t know who is competing against whom in this race. It makes it tough to follow or to decide whom to celebrate with. Boats just keep coming in. Then, I see the OSU women and then some OSU men. I’m somewhat excited that I recognize them by their paddles–the rowing class I took was held out of the OSU boathouse on the Scioto River in Columbus.

After shooting some more, we head to Thai Smile for lunch. I have my leftovers packed up and even think to ask for plasticware and napkins. I’m all ready for any homeless we encounter on the way home. However, it looks like all the homeless were shuttled off somewhere. All that are left on the Walnut St Bridge are a group of rowdy partiers who are having the time of their lives. We continue back across the river and go home with our leftovers still in tact.

A Very Blustery Day

Posted by dkrashb on

We are running late.  I hate that.  I got up at 6:00AM in the hope of not running late, but it seems I needed to get up a half hour earlier.  We are running around frantically trying to gather up the last of our gear, knowing that we are now barely going to make it to the training hills on time.  We remember our bottles of water at the last possible second, grab them, and finally get out the door.

I set up the GPS in a hurry while Pat starts driving in the general direction.  We’ve been there enough times that the GPS should just be a back up.  However, Pat zones out and starts listening to it only to wonder why it’s taking us the way it’s taking us long after we’ve missed the correct exit.  As it turns out, I picked the flight park office, up on top of the mountain at the mountain launch, instead of the training hills.  This will cost us another 10 minutes at least.

We keep going because now it will be further to turn around.  Pat takes corners like he’s driving the BMW instead of the mini-van.  I bite my lip to stifle a scream.  We turn off before we get to the mountain office, saving ourselves a few minutes at least.  Then, Pat takes on the dirt road back to the hills with a gusto that should really only be attempted in an all-terrain vehicle–the road is full of pot holes big enough to swallow a VW beetle.  We do make it, but we are late.

Dan, one of the instructors, advises us to set up a condor and share it.  We are nearing the end of our weekend package, so there’s no reason for us to fly falcons, I guess.

We follow instructions and soon have the condor assembled, pre-flight checked, and loaded onto a trailer for a tow up to the hill.

We fly like never before.  I get airborne so easily, I’m sure that I’m almost ready to start learning to land on my feet.  It’s a great feeling to fly over the grassy field.  Unfortunately, the wind picks up quickly.  By my second flight, I get blown around in a cross-wind after I launch.  Although this is not particularly scary to me, the instructor calls it.  She doesn’t like beginners to fly in gusting winds.  She says it’s too hard to tell what we’re doing vs what the wind is doing to make it useful to us, not to mention the potential dangers.

I am left with the high of having flown.  Plus, I am prepared to take our first written test, required to graduate to the big hill.  This is a new milestone for me–I’ve not previously cared if I ever graduate to the big hill.  In fact, I’d grown convinced that I never would.  But today, I am full of myself.  I flew!  Not only am I excited about graduating, but now I have the fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe I could launch off that mountain some day.

We go into town and grab lunch after putting away the glider.  Then we head up to the top of the mountain and sit outside in the van studying.  Pat hasn’t done the required reading yet, but I’ve now talked him into taking the written test, too.  I’m reading the book to him because he didn’t bring a pair of reading glasses.   We make it through the 4 chapters covered in the test and then head indoors.

I finish the test in about half the time Pat does.  I do not suffer from test anxiety and I try not to go back and second guess myself when I finish a test.  Pat, however, not only has major anxiety about tests, but he also is not particularly well prepared given that I read the chapters to him.  But, we both manage to pass.  This emboldens us further and causes us to decide to take the dramatic step of upgrading our package to an Eagle Package.  The Eagle Package includes 4 mountain launches.  I, however, have been assured that I do not have to go off the mountain if I change my mind.  We get the full tour of the facilities and the orientation that we didn’t get when we signed up for the introductory experience.  We even get to see the repair shop and the sewing shop next door.  It’s pretty cool.

But coolest of all, when we go outside, there are two pilots waiting for the wind to calm a bit so they can take off from the mountain.  Finally!  After so many trips up the mountain to watch this event that I’ve lost count, we will get to see a mountain launch!

Unfortunately, in my rush to get out the door today, I only brought my worst lens.  Although the 70-300mm focal range will be good and the lens is light enough that I can usually get away with hand holding it, it mis-behaves on me frequently.  I’m sure this has nothing to do with the fact that I dropped it on a ceramic tile floor in Montana over a year ago and have yet to get it repaired.

As the first pilot sets up, I snap a few shots and then move down below the launch to try to get a good angle of the launch process.  The moment when he starts the launch is the moment my lens decides it doesn’t want to focus anymore.  And, of course, I have my camera set to not shoot if it’s not in focus.  I completely miss the launch.  Not only do I miss shooting it, but I miss seeing it because I’m so panicked over my camera.

I take a deep breath and fiddle with the camera until I get the lens focusing again.  I manage to accomplish this prior to the second pilot, Meg, launching.

The launch is every bit as exciting as I expected it to be, but much shorter.  The longest part is setting Meg up at the launch line with 3 people holding the wires of her glider to prevent her from blowing away prematurely.  Then, Meg, in her sock feet, calls, “Clear,” and takes 2 steps before she is airborne and tucking her colorful feet into her pod.  I stand in awe.

We watch the two of them soar back and forth along the ridge, gaining altitude from the wind rushing up the face of the mountain.  They look so pretty against the blue sky.  However, watching hang gliders after they’ve launched is not really all that exciting for me yet.  I suppose I don’t have enough knowledge to know what they’re doing up there enough to appreciate it.  In any case, we decide it’s time to call it a day for hang gliding and to head on back to Chattanooga in time to catch the Head of the Hootch.

Sunrise Spectre

Posted by dkrashb on

This morning, as I wait for Pat to get ready for our morning walk along the riverfront, I decide to take my camera.  After all, I missed some really great shots on our last walk and I hate that.  As I change the lens on my camera, I look out the window and see a large cloud hanging so low that it has to be fog rising off the river.

It’s lower than the roof of the 4-story building across the street and stretches in a long tube just over the trees along the river.  I call Pat to come look while I finish getting my camera ready.  Pat comes out and says, “It’s like the Smoke Monster!”  That is exactly what it looks like–the smoke monster in Lost.

By the time I can get a shot, it’s already shrinking.  I rush to get out the door hoping we can get down to the river and get another shot before it dissipates all together.  Pat is walking better today–his pulled hamstring is still somewhat touchy, but it’s healing.  We make it down to the river, but all that is left is a puff of cloud hanging over the water.

Although I’m disappointed that I missed the smoke monster at its peak, I’m happy that I’ve brought my camera with us this morning.  The sun is rising behind Veteran’s bridge and fog continues to swirl and rise off the surface of the water.  I play with getting different angles of the rising sun, but make a note to myself to do some reading on dealing with shooting directly into the sun–I can’t seem to avoid sun spots, even with my polarizer on.  But I love the effect of the sun backlighting the scenery anyway.

As we work our way along the riverfront with me shooting from various vantage points and Pat patiently waiting for me, we spot a hawk sitting on the paddle wheel of the Delta Queen.  The Delta Queen is an old riverboat that’s been converted into a permanently parked hotel.  It sits at anchor in front of Coolidge park and adds a nice touch to the riverfront scenery.

I, of course, did not bring a telephoto lens this morning, not wanting to have to do any lens changes while on a walk or have to carry my tripod.  I do not immediately recognize the hawk because it’s backlit.  I’m hoping to get a few shots good enough to blow up so I can identify it later.  With a 17-55mm lens and low light, that’s not going to be easy.  I snap as many shots as I can, trying to get as close as possible without spooking the hawk.

As we get closer and on the front-lit side of the bird, it appears to be a Red-tailed Hawk, but it doesn’t have a red tail.  Probably a young one, but I will double check when I get home.  Now that I am less worried about getting a shot good enough to ID the hawk, I go back to shooting landscape shots.  The hawk must like being the focus of my attention, because it flies up onto the Walnut St Bridge and perches in the sunlight for me.

About this time, a woman walks up and start asking me about my camera.  She is shooting with a point-and-shoot and carrying the smallest tripod I’ve ever seen that still has plenty of height.  She is a small person, so I suppose it might even be at eye level for her.  She also carries a larger tripod.  She tells me she’s shooting with her point and shoot this morning but that she has a Canon 7D in her bag.  She asks what I’m shooting with.  I feel embarrassed to tell her it’s a 40D for some reason.  She talks about the zoom in the point and shoot she’s using, which I guess is why she’s using it in lieu of carrying around multiple lenses, but I’m still confused as to why she would have a 7D and leave it in her bag.

This morning, I alternately yearn for a full size sensor that will allow me to include more of what I see before me and the full 400mm of my telephoto zoom lens on the smaller sensor of my current camera so I can shoot the hawk.

When I was at a photo workshop at the Tennessee Aquarium and asked one of the instructors for advice on selecting a focal length, she told me that it just depends on whether I like to be tight on my subjects or if I prefer a wider view.  She went on a bit of a diatribe about how some photographers preferred one look over the other.

I was completely perplexed by this.  In my mind, some scenes call for a wide angle and some call for a telephoto.  Isn’t that the whole point of having a selection of lenses in your bag?  Given that we were shooting wildlife in tanks, it seemed clear to me that getting up as close as possible on individuals would make the most dramatic images, but maybe that’s where others have a different opinion.

Another woman in the class started talking about how she never changes lenses and does’t even use a zoom lens.  She has one focal length and that’s what she works with.  I am reminded of a story I read where a photographer took a 35mm fixed focal length lens (on a 35mm film camera) on a trip and how it forced him to be very creative in his photography because the lens was so poorly suited for some of the things he wanted to shoot.

This is a constant battle for me–is the effort required to carry extra lenses and the risk of changing lenses worth the difference it makes in my shots?  Given that I tend to shoot very wide or very telephoto, I have to say yes.  After all, a shot of a hawk 100 yards away perched on the side of a bridge shot at 30mm makes the hawk a tiny surprise–the photo is all about the bridge.  A shot of a hawk 100 yards away at 400mm eliminates everything except the hawk–the photo is all about the hawk.  They aren’t comparable.

This morning, I point out the hawk to the lady with her point-and-shoot.  She doesn’t seem interested in the hawk.  This surprises me, too.  What kind of person isn’t interested in a hawk?  She tells me about going on some photography workshop with “real photographers” and how they are all using point-and-shoots, too.  Apparently justifying the use of a point-and-shoot is more important to her than shooting.  I am no longer following what she is saying.  The only parts I pick up are when she asks where we’re from two times and I tell her “just over there” with a vague gesture two times.  I gather she’s trying to identify our origin by our accent, but I’ve gotten to the point where I stop explaining that we recently moved here from Ohio.  We are, after all, from “just over there” now.

Eventually, she stops talking at me and goes off to shoot some more or leave, I’m not sure which having given up on our conversation about the time she took no interest in the hawk.  The peace of my morning was somehow disturbed by this strange little woman with her point-and-shoot.  I am left with the vague sensation of having been in a competition that I didn’t enter or participate in but somehow managed to lose anyway.  I find myself wondering if she is somehow related to the smoke monster.

I try to shake away the ghost of the little woman and return my focus to the rising sun, Pat, and our walk.  I set aside my camera for now, reach for Pat’s hand, take a deep breath, and just look.

Halloween Moon

Posted by dkrashb on

It’s 5AM on Monday morning.  The horizon gives no sign that the sun will rise again today.  I have to remind myself that the sun isn’t rising until nearly 8AM these days.  I have not yet adjusted to the fact that daylight savings doesn’t end until November–although I wish it didn’t end at all, preferring the extra light at the end of the day.  I have three hours before Pat will be up and ready for our morning walk.  That means plenty of time to “putter.”

Although I am not a morning person (or maybe because), I like to have time alone in the morning to do the things that I never think about once my day starts.  Having been able to sleep until 6AM fairly regularly of late, I’ve lost about 2 hours of putter time, although the extra hours of sleep are welcome.  Today, after taking care of the most urgent work emails, I empty the dishwasher and refill it.  I scrub the counters, stove top, and sink, trying not to make so much noise that I wake Pat.  Then I take my laptop and sit outside, writing my blog, checking Facebook, doing the things that I think take 10 minutes each, but can erode hours on the clock before I realize it.

I watch the clock on my computer carefully today and stop myself when it gets to be 7:30AM.  I check in with Pat to see if he’s awake and if he wants to walk today.  Getting an affirmative, I finish my coffee and get myself cleaned up and dressed.  I am ready to walk out the door 10 minutes early.  I try to find something to do while Pat finishes his morning routine.  I make the mistake of logging into work’s instant messaging and answering more emails from my laptop.  Before long, Pat is waiting for me.

But, I tear myself away, taking my phone in case I can’t stand not checking email again, and we head out the door for a quick walk along the waterfront, our preferred way of starting the day.  The sun is just now easing it’s way over the hills to the North.  The first rays shoot across the Tennessee River at a steep angle.  The mist blowing around just above the water is so dense, it looks like a frozen tundra with snow blowing across it.  I try to get a shot of this with my iPhone, but the effect is lost.  Always a conundrum–to bring the camera or not to bring the camera–today I kick myself for being lazy.

We continue our walk and the mist breaks up gradually and disappears as if it’s melting in the increasing light.  The water reflects like a mirror, setting off the swirling remnants of mist perfectly.  I could stand and stare at the changing scene  forever, but I do have a day job and we haven’t had breakfast yet.

We take a turn at the Walnut St Bridge and head towards a local coffee shop that serves bagels with smoked salmon for breakfast.  It’s quick and healthy, although not cheap.  We sit inside, but at a table that faces the windows that overlook Coolidge Park.  It’s a view of trees, mostly, but it’s still nice.

We head back to the apartment via the shortest route, now, since it’s already 8:30 AM and the flow of incoming emails is getting difficult to keep up with from my phone.  We walk between the buildings to get back to Frazier St, following the footsteps of a toddler we had seen the other day.  He had run out from between the buildings towards the street.  We might not have noticed him except that his mother, still out of sight from our vantage point, screamed like someone getting stabbed in an effort to stop him in his tracked.  Her ploy worked–he froze in place.

We continue down the sidewalk past the shop with novelties in its window.  The Librarian Action Figure we laughed about a few weeks ago is long gone.  She, and all the other familiar objects, have been replaced with a halloween display.  We are reminded that in spite of all the weekend Halloween events, today is the actual day.  We discuss whether there will be any need for candy at our apartment.  Deciding that trick or treaters probably don’t wander up and down our busy street and, even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to get in our building after 6PM, we agree not to buy candy.

Part of me is happy about this descision–for 10 years we lived in a “haunted” ravine in Columbus where the only kids that came were teenagers trying to frighten one another.  Yet, for 10 years, I bought halloween candy “just in case.”  This led to many binges and regrets.  So, I am happy I will not be tempted by bags of candies hanging around the house.  At the same time, I am sorry that I will miss my fix this year and have nothing to gorge on.

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays.  Between costumes and candy, what’s not to like?  Even as a young adult, I used to decorate my work area with extensive halloween decorations and take candy into the office for co-workers.  First I gave up costumes, going only to a 1/2 dozen costume parties in the past 20 years, and none in the last 10.  Then I gave up the decorations.  Now, it seems I have given up the candy, too.

A father with his son appears beside us at an intersection.  His son is wearing an eagle costume.  When the light turns green and the father gives the OK to cross, the son flaps his way across the street.  I smile, but I am struck by a sudden sense of loss.  While this boy looks forward to parading in his costume with his classmates and collecting gobs of candy, I look forward to getting through a few hundred emails.  Why is it that being an adult so often seems to suck all the imagination and sparkle out of life?

We return home with me suddenly craving mini Kit Kat bars.  At the end of the day, I watch out the windows to see if there are any trick-or-treaters in the streets.  My co-workers are begging off early because they have to go hand out candy, but I see not a single child in costume.  As the sun sets and the moon rises, I get out my camera and set aside my nostalgia for Halloween.  Tonight, I will focus on shooting the Halloween moon.

Cloudland Canyon

Posted by dkrashb on

Before we left this morning to watch the hang gliding, I did a little research on Cloudland Canyon, a park we keep passing signs for between going out to the hang gliding park and my bike trip to Chickamauga Battlefields a few weeks ago. I try to talk Pat into planning a hike there while we’re out that way when I see that it’s supposed to be one of the more scenic places to hike in the US. I find a short, 2-mile round trip trail and think I might have a shot at talking Pat into that one, but when I mention that it has about 1600 steps because it goes down to the base of a waterfall, he vetoes immediately. Unfortunately, the hamstring he pulled the last time we went hang gliding is still giving him troubles and he doesn’t want to risk pulling it again when we have our next hang gliding lesson scheduled next weekend.

However, after realizing there aren’t going to be any mountain launches today at the hang gliding park and seeing all that there is to see there today, we decide to make a detour to Cloudlands Canyon and walk out to whatever overlooks are convenient from the parking lot. I suggest that there may not be any, but Pat laughs at this. “We’re Americans. We always have to have a view accessible from the parking lot–think of all the people that won’t walk to see a view!” I have to agree. There are a lot of people who go to a lot of really beautiful places in this country without ever realizing that hiking to even more beautiful places is a possibility.

The park is a state park, it turns out. And it costs $5 to enter. I guess that’s the downsize of going to a park that’s listed as a top 10 destination. We drive in and find the first overlook. I decide to take my camera with me as the leaves are beautiful and the sun is getting lower in the sky, making for better lighting than my hang gliding shots earlier today. Pat takes my still-assembled tripod out of the back of the car and carries it over his shoulder. The legs are still extended and it hangs out far behind him.

As we cross through the grassy area on the path between the parking lot and the overlook, we pass amongst a group of teenagers playing a game of tag or something. They appear to be Mennonites or a more relaxed derivation–the girls all wear skirts with heavy stockings and have a cap covering their buns, but they have less of a uniform look than the Mennonites I’ve seen in the past. The boys could be mistaken for mainstream boys from their attire, although they don’t seem to be wearing anything with logos. They are so intent on their game that one of the boys nearly knocks his teeth out on my tripod–Pat moves it out of his way just in time.

We make it to the overlook without injuring anyone and I set up my gear. It’s an amazing view from here. I had no idea that Northern Georgia has such incredible terrain. The canyon is deep and rocky, but sill mostly tree covered. The fall colors are far brighter than I expected to see in Georgia as well. Unfortunately, the setting sun creates deep shadows that contrast sharply with the brightly lit parts of the canyon and I struggle to capture just how amazing this canyon looks with my camera. After doing my best, we return to the car and, once again, the same boy nearly knocks his forehead into the end of the tripod. I suggest to Pat we need one of those orange flags used when driving with something hanging out of the back of the car. He suggests that the boy just needs to start paying attention to where he’s going.

We drive further down and find another parking lot at the far end where we can walk to the next overlook. There are fewer people here and we make it to the overlook unimpeded. A couple stands at the railing of the overlook trying to take a picture of themselves. I help out by taking a shot of the two of them. They hand me their cell phone and I take a picture for them. It’s kind of funny to have someone hand you a cell phone and ask you to take their picture, but I guess it’s common enough these days that it won’t be funny much longer.

The view from this side is just as beautiful, although there are fewer red trees on the slope across from us. We can hear a waterfall in the background. Stairs continue down from the overlook and I wonder if this is the trailhead for the walk to the waterfall I’ve read about. However, we are not prepared to hike–I’m wearing a pair of Italian boots comfortable for walking around in, but not safe for steep descents to waterfalls–and I don’t even broach the subject with Pat. Instead, I enjoy finding different angles to experiment with and shoot away.

Before we leave, I decide to take advantage of having the tripod and set up a shot of the two of us. Using the delay on my shutter, I give myself 10 seconds to get from behind the camera to in front of it. It takes two tries and using some flash because we’re back lit, but it’s kind of fun to actually have a record of me having been there instead of only having shots of everyone else.

Next, we walk along a paved path that takes us up to one more overlook. Here, a family is trying to get a group picture and they’re taking turns shooting. When they see me, they ask if I can take a shot for them. The mother hands me the camera. I think it might be a Canon Rebel, but I’m not sure. It’s considerably smaller than my old 40D and the lens on it seems miniaturized somehow. In any case, they tell me it’s all set and I just have to push the button. I compose and shoot, but the family is backlit and the exposure is set for them, overexposing the entire picture. I show it to the daughter (who appears to own the camera) and she changes a few settings and hands it back to me. She really needs some fill flash to get a good shot, but I decide not to comment. I take the shot again and ask her to see if it’s OK for her. She likes it, so I move on to set up out of their way so I can shoot the canyon.

While I’m shooting, the father of the family apparently stepped in dog poop left behind by an earlier visitor. He leaves along with one daughter to go remove poop from his shoes. The remaining mess on the rocks stinks something awful. The mother and daughter remain and the daughter seems to be playing model while her mother shoots using the daughter’s camera. I’m a bit confused because the daughter has to keep setting up the shots that her mother takes, and from her comments, she seems to want to learn how to shoot. However, one of the reasons why I’m rarely in my own shots is because composing the shot is the part I like best about shooting. To me, the composition is the most important thing that a photographer can individualize. While I suppose that’s not strictly true, it’s the part I understand enough to individualize. In any case, it’s not something I like to hand off to someone else to do.

I work my way around the rail of the overlook, avoiding the dog poop in the process. As I am finishing up with my final round of shots, another man joins the group on the rock and starts up a conversation with the daughter and mother. When they leave, he starts talking to me. He asks me what my intentions are with my photography. While this seems like an impertinent question for a stranger to ask, Pat happens to have asked me the same question on the way over to the park. I inform the stranger of this as a response rather than answering his question. But he probes further. When I say my intention is to get better at it, he dismisses this as vague. Finally, I tell him that I publish some of my shots on my blog. This somehow satisfies him, but he won’t stop talking.

I make all the physical signs of wanting to leave possible. I remove my camera from the tripod and hang it around my neck, I compact my tripod into its smallest form. I stand there holding my equipment with a lean towards the stairs, indicating he should start moving. He stands there between me and the steps like a wall. I take a step forward and he simply turns like a weathervane to maintain eye contact. I am at a loss. I finally interrupt his diatribe about his father and say I need to move on before I lose the light. He follows us up the stairs, still talking. When we get to the top, I start to go right and the man goes right. Then Pat steps back and says, “Honey, the car is this way.” Fortunately, the man continues off the other way instead of changing his mind, but I have now lost the opportunity to go shoot from the last overlook. Oh well, I have more photos than I can process anyway and we will be back another day.

We drive home in the fading light and I get home in time to do a little more shooting from the balcony. It’s funny how once I get on a roll, I don’t want to stop. Maybe that’s where the expression “get on a roll” comes from–back when photographers used rolls of film?

Women Hang Gliding Festival

Posted by dkrashb on

Today is the last day of the biannual Women’s Hang Gliding Festival at Lookout Mountain Hang Gliding.  We thought long and hard about whether we wanted to participate or not.  In the end, we decided not to because we figured it would be crowded on the training hills–crowds on the training hills mean fewer flights and less progress.

Instead, today we will drive out to the mountain launch in the hope of finally seeing someone take off from there.  We have been up to the mountain launch at least 5 times now, but each time, the wind has been blowing the wrong direction and no one was launching.  We’re hoping the wind will be with us today.

We take our time getting going this morning–after all, it is a Sunday morning. When we get to Trenton, GA, the closest town to the flight park, we’re both hungry and it’s almost lunch time.  We decide to stop for a bite to eat.  Where to eat in Trenton is always a question.  They have a lot of fast food choices and handful of family places, but we’ve not had a lot of luck with the places we’ve tried in the past.  Today, we decide to give the one Italian joint a try.

Perhaps they have good pizza, but we made the mistake of ordering pasta.  It was edible, but that’s about the best I can say about it.  The manicotti was over cooked and had the texture of something that had been cooked, frozen, and cooked again.  The sauce really had nothing going for it other than that it was wet, and the salad was entirely made up of iceberg lettuce that had seen better days.  The most amazing thing was the sweet tea.  I mixed half a glass of sweet tea with half a glass of unsweet tea and it was still too sweet.  But, we got through the meal and on our way with full bellies.

When we arrived at the mountain launch, it was about the time of afternoon when we’d expect to see hang gliders setting up.  No hang gliders in sight.  We look at the wind sock and sure enough, it’s a tailwind.  Having studied the first 3 chapters of the beginner hang glider’s training manual, I now know why this is so important.  While one might think a tailwind would make things easier because it pushes the glider along, a tailwind actually creates negative airspeed over the wing, which prevents the glider from lifting, which is very bad indeed.  So, hang gliders, because they rely on the wind and the wind alone when launching from the mountain, do not launch in a tailwind.

However, there are lots of aerotows going up this afternoon.  With a plane creating the airspeed needed for the glider to lift and an open field that lets the plane change the direction of takeoff according to the wind, aerotows are not so wind-direction dependent.  We stand and watch some of the gliders and I shoot, trying to capture both the gliders and the amazing fall leaves.  Unfortunately, once again I am shooting in the early afternoon and there is both sharp light and distant haze to make me wish I’d gotten there earlier.

A woman standing on the observation deck with two cameras around her neck walks over upon seeing my big lens.  She says she’s jealous of my lens.  We end up talking to her and her husband for several minutes.  Turns out they do people’s taxes for a living and only work from January to April.  The wife has gotten into photography of late, but it seems the husband is not so keen on the amount of money she’s spending on equipment, even though it appears she’s buying less expensive lenses.  She talks about wanting to start shooting portraits for money and how much she enjoys “making pictures” (this Southern expression has always thrown me, but when you think about it, it probably makes more sense than saying “taking pictures”).

The husband starts complaining about the expense again–he says, “I bought her that camera for $1000 and then she wanted another one so I bought her that one too and it was another $1000.”  I commiserate on the expense of good equipment and comment that the lens I really want is $12,000.  He turns to Pat and says, “I bet you said no to that!”  Pat and I both laugh at the notion and Pat says, “It’s her money.”  I say, “I said no–I’ll never be able to justify that expensive of a lens.”  I find it interesting that the husband has shared with us that he and his wife run their tax business together, yet he seems to think that their income is his income.  Even more interestingly, he assumes every man makes all buying decisions.  I feel sorry for the wife, although working 4 months of the year does sound fun.

We spend a little time in the hang gliding office before we head down to the landing zone to watch aerotows take off.  First, we talk about the different training packages and what would make sense for me given that I really don’t want to launch from the mountain, but I’m enjoying the training hills.  Then, we schedule coming out to the training hills next weekend and Pat takes a sudden interest in how much hang gliders cost.  This catches me off guard.  We learn that he and I could potentially share a glider and that a beginner glider starts around $3000 new.  I watch Pat’s face as he looks at the gliders the instructor points out to him on their website and I try to determine whether he is seriously thinking we’re going to be buying a hang glider or not.  I flash back to the months, even years, of getting rid of possessions in an effort to simplify our lives and try to imagine how a hang glider fits into this picture.  But, I let him look without comment.

Next, we drive down to the landing zone and sit for a while, watching aerotows.  For the first time, we see someone on a tow line that’s on a winch rather than an ultralight.  We’ve seen winch launches on TV before, but didn’t know this park had a winch.  The glider gets about 50 feet in the air before releasing and then comes back down and lands immediately.  I assume this is part of an aerotow training package.

We watch several tandem aerotows take off, and I practice focusing manually with my long lens with the extender attached.  I quickly learn that panning with an aerotow and manually focusing at the same time are not possible for me.  I’m not able to see clearly enough to tell if I’m in focus or not through the viewfinder and I can’t use live view in the LCD while panning.  I go for a small aperture opening in the hope of having enough depth of field to cover the difference.

After a while, Pat is bored and I have so many shots of hang gliders that I’ll be at the computer for hours, so we decide to leave.  As we drive out, we spot a flock of wild turkeys across a field.  Pat pulls over and I get out of the van slowly and grab my camera and tripod from the back.  By the time I get set up, another car has approached from the other side and a woman with a point-and-shoot gets out and starts walking towards the turkeys, spooking them.  I get only two quick shots in before they take flight and I have no time to make any adjustments to better capture them flying.  I make a mental note (not for the first time) that I really need to find a class on wildlife shooting or I’m going to end up always shooting landscapes.

Knowing and Unknowing

Posted by dkrashb on

The funny thing about any hobby for me is that once I start, I have a hard time stopping.  The reverse is equally true.  As a result, I practice my hobby in “fits and starts” as some of my relatives would say.  This leads to slow progress–I practice a lot and start to get better and then I stop for a long time and have to start over when my interest cycles back around again.  So, while I’ve been “seriously” interested in photography for a good 8 years now, I have the skill of someone whose spent 6 months doing it regularly.  It’s a little frustrating–I’m a quick learner in many aspects of life, but not when it comes to physical activity.  For some reason, photography is more like a sport to my brain than an intellectual exercise.

But today, I am on a roll.  After spending the day shooting at the Tennessee Aquarium workshop, I’ve suddenly remembered a bunch of stuff I’d forgotten and now I’m excited to try to shoot some of the things I haven’t gotten around to shooting yet.  I’ve already shot over 700 pictures today, but I manage to talk Pat into going out with me to shoot the fall colors in Coolidge park at sunset from Walnut St bridge.  I’m hoping to get some really interesting shots of Market St bridge with the sun going down in the background.

Pat agrees to go with me, but only if we go eat something first.  We decide to give the sushi place a try–it’s right at Coolidge Park, so it would make the most sense to take my gear with us, eat, and then go shoot.  However, Pat doesn’t want to carry my gear into the restaurant.  We end up walking there to eat without my gear, which I guess would be OK given that it’s not a long walk and we can always use more exercise, but the reality is that we’re running out of time as the sun sets earlier every day and I’m worried we’re going to miss the light.

We manage to enjoy our dinner in spite of my anxiety about the light.  The sushi is decent.  They don’t seem to have real crab meat in most of the rolls that have crab, but we avoid the fake crab and what we have instead is tasty.  I also take the waiter’s recommendation on a glass of unfiltered saki and it’s quite tasty, too.  Unfortunately, I don’t feel like I can eat slowly and I pop most of a bowl of edamame into my mouth in a matter of minutes.  Pat laughs–he says I get a rhythm going when I eat edamame that looks like a machine.

After finishing up, we walk back to the apartment as quickly as I can drag Pat back on his still-healing pulled hamstring.  I keep looking at the sky and hoping we aren’t going to miss the sunset.  We get my stuff and head back over literally to where we just came from.  There is a band playing in the far corner of the park, apparently there is a big halloween celebration there tonight with a live band, trick-or-treats for kids, and some stands set up that we are too far away to see clearly.  It’s a nice idea to have a big public party in the park, especially with the weather as amazing as it is.  I cannot get over the fact that I’m comfortable running around in a T-shirt most days and we’ve had nothing but sunshine for all but a couple of days in the past month.  In fact, we haven’t turned on the heat yet at home and the temperature hasn’t gotten below 68 yet.  We often have to open the windows during the day because the passive-solar effect of the windows heats up our place too much.

In any case, here we are in Coolidge park with our backs to the party in one corner, and trying to capture the brilliant trees in the fading light in the other corner.  Unfortunately, the sunset is not very dramatic tonight.  With no clouds in the sky, there’s not a whole lot going on there.  And the angle of the sun is bad for shooting into it–I have to look away and try to compose at the same time.  I manage to shoot the Walnut St Bridge from a variety of angles at least 100 times.  I wonder how many pictures of this bridge I will end up with by the time we next move?

After Pat gets too annoyed by the band doing a bad job playing sappy cover tunes, I manage to talk him into going up top on the Walnut St Bridge so I can try to shoot the sun setting behind Market.  But, I have more troubles with the angle of the sun.  I am generally disappointed with what I see in my LCD.  I hope that the shots will look better on a big screen when I get home knowing full well they won’t.

As Pat gets itchy to get going, I wrap up and we head out after the sun drops below the mountain in the distance.  I’m not sure if I’m getting senile or if I just haven’t been paying attention my whole life, but I completely missed the best light!  After stressing about getting to the park before sunset, I packed up and went home about 20 minutes too early.  As I sit at my desk processing disappointing shots, I look out the window, see the glow cast over the scenery below and say out loud, “Crap!”

Intent on not missing the best light all together, I set up my tripod and camera once more and fire off some shots from our balcony.  Once again, I am reminded that I do not make good progress learning a new skill when I de-prioritize it and then pick it up with a vengeance again.  It’s not only that I forget a large portion of what I learned, but I also seem to fail to realize that I’ve forgotten it.  I behave as if I know what I’m doing instead of looking things up that I really need to look up.  Not knowing what you don’t know is almost always the most difficult place to be when you’re trying to accomplish something.  I seem to be stuck in this place of not knowing.

Big Sea, Bright Skies, and Biting Turtles

Posted by dkrashb on

It’s Christmas all over again for me today.  I have been playing with my new toys, a really great tripod and wireless shutter control, for a couple of weeks here and there, but today, I get to take them with me to a workshop.  And not just any workshop, we’re going to shoot at the Tennessee Aquarium and along the water front.  And, we don’t just get to shoot at the aquarium; we get to shoot before they open!  I’m so excited, I wake up long before my alarm and can’t get back to sleep.

As I finish pulling everything together and get ready to walk out the door, Pat tells me he will drive me over to the aquarium.  It seems a little silly to me, but it is early and I will be carrying a lot of stuff, so I accept his offer of a ride.  It takes longer to clear the windows on the van, which have fogged up over night although it didn’t get cold enough for a frost, then it does to drive across the Market St Bridge, but it’s nice not to have to haul my gear over.

The aquarium is quiet.  There are only a couple of grounds crew members sweeping up outside–in an hour, the place will be swarming with kids.  I walk to the members entrance and find no one.  I am a few minutes earlier than the stated time to arrive, but I’m also a few minutes later than they said someone would be at the door.  Before I have time to worry about whether I’m in the wrong place, a woman appears and comes over to let me in.  As it turns out, she’s guiding each attendee to the top of the escalator and pointing us in the right direction before returning to the door.

I find the classroom with no trouble and we sit and talk and drink coffee while we wait for the remaining attendees.  A girl who works for the aquarium (or perhaps volunteers?) comes in to clean the turtle cages.  While our instructor gives us a run down of where we’ll be going in the aquarium, the girl stands up and says, “Um, I have a situation here,” as calm as can be.  She is holding up a small box turtle who has hold of a chunk of her finger.  No one reacts for what must be nearly 30 seconds, thinking she knows what she’s doing, I suppose.  Then, a woman next to the girl asks if she needs help.  The girl nods and the woman and a man across from me spring into action trying to get the turtle to let go of the girl’s finger.  I suggest trying to get the turtle to bite on a stick instead, but this causes the turtle to try to pull its head back in its shell, still holding onto the girl’s finger.  It looks like he’s going to rip a chunk of her finger off the way her skin is pulling.  At this point, the guy helping suggests putting the turtle back in the cage.  When the girl sets the turtle down, he lets go.  But, she is in pain and with all that adrenaline rushing through her body, starts to cry, adding to her embarassment.  The woman takes her to the sink and runs cold water on the girl’s injury when one of the instructor’s returns with an aquarium employee.  We learn that the best way to get a turtle to release is to dunk it under water.  After we all settle down again, the aquarium employee says, “Well, I guess I don’t have to warn you about reaching into the turtle cages!”

We head out to the aquarium to start shooting.  We begin in the tropical setting where the Macaws are not yet on display, to my disappointment.  There is a tank with rays for petting, but I decide I’m more interested in shooting the flowers in this area.  I go back to the lobby area at the top of the escalators to do a lens change–it’s too humid in the tropical garden area.  Then I return and practice some macro shots of flowers.

Next, I move into the butterfly garden, which is even more humid, and do my best to get a shot of the butterflies.  I really want one of the butterflies that look mostly brown on the outside of their wings and then brilliant, metallic blue on the inside of their wings.  I, like everyone else, want a shot of them with open wings.  They are not cooperating.  I find one alighted and wait and wait and wait.  The instructor comes in and explains to me that they only open their wings when they need energy and are parked in the sun.  The butterfly I’ve been waiting on is in the shade, so I look for another one to wait on.  I manage to snap a few other butterflies in the process, but I never do get a shot of blue wings–we only have an hour before the aquarium opens and I want to make sure I get to the penguins before the kids come in.

When I head down to the penguins, I pull out my tripod.  I crank up the ISO setting, open up my aperture, and set up the tripod so I get some stability, but can still swing the lens around to follow swimming penguins.  This turns out to be an impossible task.  Fortunately, the instructor comes along and does something surprising:  he stops down my aperture setting, turns down the ISO setting, and turns on my flash.  I have never had much success with my flash and have pretty much avoided using it as much as possible instead of learning what I can do with it.  Flash has been one of those things on my list of skills to worry about later.  Today, I learn how much a flash, even the built-in variety, can help, even when shooting through glass.  By choosing the proper angle to the glass, I’m able to get some halfway decent shots of swimming penguins.  Although they do all have red-eye.  Something to correct later.

I have a harder time shooting the penguins on land.  There is about 4 inches of glass between the top of the water and the bottom of the water spray splattered all over the glass.  That 4 inches remains clear because the water sloshes back and forth as the penguins swim around, rinsing the glass.  So, the trick to shooting the penguins on land is to shoot through those four inches when the water is sloshing the opposite direction.  I have a hard time getting my timing of when the penguins are doing something interesting and when the water is sloshing the right direction down.  Or perhaps the penguins are just toying with me.  In any case, I can’t say I got a great shot of the penguins, but at least it was an improvement on what I was able to do on my own.  Plus, I now have come face-to-face with my flash-phobia, the first step in getting better.

We spend some time in the classroom going through some shots of the instructors and talking about the choices they made given the circumstances to create the images they share.  One trick that I’ve never heard before was that, if your sky is going to be white, make it go all the way across the top of the picture.  I often end up with white skies.  I will have to pay more attention to that the next time my sky is going to be overexposed.  Alternatively, I could learn how to layer together two different exposures so I don’t have white skies, but I already feel like I spend more time than I’d like processing photos.

We return to the aquarium to watch a bird show where they bring out an Eastern Screech Owl and a Eurasian Eagle Owl.  I love owls.  My camera picks this moment to stop working.  I take it to the instructor to see if he can tell what’s going on.  In the end, I have to reboot.  Turning the camera on and off solves whatever hiccup happened.  But, now I am at a bad angle to the owls and they are in shadow.  For having someone holding a bird posing to take a picture, you’d think I’d be able to get a really good shot.

Next we head to the seahorses where we, once again, practice using flash in front of glass.  It’s tricky to get my lens to focus on the seahorses.  I’m using my 100mm macro lens and I have to focus it manually to get it close and then let it refocus automatically since I can’t see well enough without my reading glasses to tell if I’m in focus or not and the seahorses move enough that the focus changes rapidly.  I spend so much time trying to get decent shots of the seahorses that I run out of time to shoot any jellies.

After another classroom session and lunch, we go outside.  Unfortunately, it’s now early afternoon and the light is about as bad as it gets.  I put my polarizer on my lens in the hope of getting rid of some of the glare, but the sharp shadows make it challenging to get good shots.  I end up walking around with one of my the other attendees and as we talk, I learn that not only does he also work for the same company I do, but he works with the same guy that sat next to me on the way to Germany.  While I suppose the fact that they all came from an acquired company based in Atlanta combined with the fact that Atlanta is close enough that a lot of people come from there to Chattanooga on the weekend for a get away makes it more probable that this guy and I would end up in the same workshop, but still.  What are the odds?

We work our way around from the Hunter Museum and Walnut St bridge to the Bluffview Art District and the sculpture garden.  Then, we head back in the direction of the aquarium.  We end up walking down the waterfall steps that go down the side of the aquarium.  I’ve never walked down them before.  They go under the street where there are interesting reflections and a cool view of the large fountain that shoots into the river.  He shows me a gate that allows us to go through and walk out to the waterfront–I never knew you could get through there.  We work our way back around to the aquarium until we return to the final part of the workshop.

After we wrap up, I return to the tropical display to shoot the Macaws.  They are out now, each performing their own tricks.  One likes to groom on the other non-stop.  The other periodically breaks away from the grooming to go hang on the end of the stand by his beak.  He watches me shoot him as he performs this trick and I’m pretty sure he’s used to star treatment.

Leaving the aquarium, I decide to walk back instead of having Pat pick me up.  Although I’m tired from lugging my gear around all day, I want to shoot our side of the river from the bridge.  I don’t spend a lot of time doing this–I take only hand-held shots–but I do get a few nice views of our building and the falls colors on the hill behind it.

Returning home, I can’t wait to see what my pictures look like on the computer.