In the February issue of Outdoor Photographer magazine, William Neill‘s column really hit home for me–partly because I was preparing a blog entry on the very same topic addressed by Mr. Neill.  As the column is available on line, I heartily recommend it to you, and will pen a few words of my own on the subject.

I’ve been photographing moving water for quite some time; it‘s a major elemental subject of landscape photography, most obviously in the form of waterfalls, but also rapids, streams and waves in large lakes and oceans.  Despite my experience, I’m rarely entirely certain about what shutter speed to use to render the subject in the manner I seek.  Oh, I almost always have a pretty good idea, but much of the time minor changes in shutter speed can have a subtle–but significant–impact on the quality of moving water.  And not infrequently relatively modest adjustments can have a substantial effect.

So what do I do?  I play around with the shutter speed.  Sometimes I fiddle around quite a bit.  Now I rarely, if ever, push this to the level described by William Neill, but when I’m trying to portray something that’s moving–it’s usually water, but not always, as will be illustrated below–it’s commonplace for me to experiment with multiple shutter speeds.

This may, at first blush, seem undisciplined or scatter-shot in approach, but I don’t believe that’s the case.  I’m not referring to firing away with no control.  The method I employ involves the camera mounted on a tripod, the composition fine-tuned, the focus and exposure established manually.  The exposure is then tweaked–and I think that’s the appropriate term, because we’re typically talking about a shutter speed adjustment of plus or  minus no more than a single stop.  This approach is about optimizing a shot already deemed by the photographer to have merit, not firing away and hoping to come up with a keeper image.

With all that in mind, let’s take a look at some examples.  (I don’t ordinarily include technical information with my images, but since that’s the underlying point of this post, I’m making an exception.)  All of the images in this post were shot using a circular polarizing filter.  Some included the use of at least one neutral density filter.

Mill Creek Rapids, Cataract Falls State Recreation Area, Indiana

1.  Mill Creek Rapids:  D700, 24-70 @ 24 mm, ISO 200, f/16, 2/5 sec.  I placed myself smack in the middle of the water, roughly 100 feet upstream from Lower Cataract Falls.  (It isn’t nearly as dangerous as it sounds; while I was in fact standing in moving water, I placed myself in a spot that was remarkably calm.)  The goal was to render an in-your-face view of the rapids, so the tripod was set quite low; I was squatting, with the camera/lens assembly a bit less than a foot above water level.  The water was moving quite rapidly, so I cautiously dialed in an exposure that would accommodate a 1/4 sec. shutter speed without blowing the highlights.  That proved to be a bit too careful–the water was a too featureless for my taste, given the look I was going for (which was to represent something of the power of the scene).  But I wasn’t too far off–just 2/3 of a stop.  A 1/3 stop tweak (to 1/3 sec.) wasn’t quite enough, but shortening the shutter speed to 2/5 of a second did the trick.  So in this case, I played with three shots before being fully satisfied.

Otter Cliffs Sunrise, Acadia National Park, Maine

2.  Otter Cliffs Sunrise:  D200, 12-24 @24 mm, ISO 100, f/11, 1/40 sec.  A lot of photographers seem to enjoy extremely long exposures of surf and that’s fine, but I wanted to catch a breaking wave as part of this particular composition.  This shot was taken just moments after the sun crested the horizon, so the quality of the light was excellent.  Getting the right wave was a bit of a problem, and added to the experimentation, along with the changing light and the quest for an adequate shutter speed at base ISO.  The best I could initially muster was 1/10 sec., which didn’t cut it.  1/25 sec. was borderline.  Another 2/3 of a stop left me at 1/40, which appeared to do the trick.  It took me 19 shots before I got the combination of shutter speed, wave quality and light that I was looking for, which you see in the above image.

Brandywine Falls black & white, Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Ohio

3.  Brandywine Falls black & white:  D700, 80-400 @ 200 mm; ISO 200, f/8, 1/5 sec.  I found Brandywine Falls to be a fascinating subject for abstract and semi-abstract waterfall sectionals and I spent several hours exploring different possible compositions from a variety of vantage points.  I was particularly fond of this combination of rock steps and splashes and tried a variety of shutter speeds before settling on 1/5 of a second.  This was a (relatively) rare circumstance where I explored options that ranged a full stop in both directions from the final choice (from more than a second to 2/5 sec.) before settling on a final product.  In this case, even multiple shots using the same shutter speed appeared different from one another in the final comparison.  Approximately a dozen images of this specific composition were made before moving on.

Water Abstract, Matthiessen State Park, Illinois

4.  Water Abstract:  D700, 24-70 @ 60 mm; ISO 400, f/11, 1/13 sec.   I ran across this fascinating abstract reflection in the shallow stream above Giant’s Bathtub at Matthiessen State Park.  How it actually looked was entirely dependent on the shutter speed used to render the scene.  Seven exposures were made before settling upon this one, ranging from 1/6 sec. to 1/40 sec. (an even larger range of shutter speeds than is typical for me).

Summer Breeze, Jardin du Soleil Lavender Farm, Washington

5.  Summer Breeze, Lavender Farm:  D700, 24-70 @ 60 mm; ISO 100, f/22 @ 4/5 sec.  Here we have an illustration of how shutter speed alteration can impact water-free subjects.  (Those of you who read my inaugural guest blog entry on 1001 Scribbles have already seen this image, which I used to help illustrate how seizing manual control of the camera settings is critical to photographic creativity.)  It was a variably breezy afternoon at the lavender farm; with some care, I managed to photograph this scene with front to back sharpness by timing the gusts and managing a shutter speed of 1/50 sec., mostly by raising the ISO and keeping the polarizer off the lens.  (I almost never shoot at f/22 because of concerns about diffraction, but in this case the only way to get the depth of field I was looking for at 60 mm was to stop all the way down; a bit of diffraction is worth the DOF, in my estimation.)  When I decided to go for the blurred look and take advantage of the breeze, I was walking a narrow line.  I wanted some sharpness; I think the blur here has far more impact because there are places of sharpness for the eye to rest.  This means that the shutter speed can’t be too slow (to prevent too much blur) and can’t be too fast (or there won’t be enough blur).   It’s the Goldilocks Syndrome; it has to be just right!  It took 10 exposures to get the shot you see above, with the shutter speed ultimately settling at 4/5 sec.

Incidentally, back when I was shooting transparency film, I might not have even tried to produce some of these shots.  Blow most (or all) of a roll of film without having any way to know if I was really on the right track?  I don’t think so.  This is an excellent example of how digital capture spurred creativity, at least for me.

My recommendation?  Give yourself a chance to play around a bit.  I think it’s usually helpful to do so with a purpose attached, but allow yourself the freedom to experiment to get the best result, even if that means a few (or many) more frames are exposed.

I know that those of you who have chosen to follow this blog (I’ll take this moment to say thanks very much to you collectively, not incidentally) expect installments about photography. It is, after all, a self-identified photography blog.  And since its inception  approximately 2 1/2 years ago, the only exceptions to this category of entries have been a few posts acknowledging award nominations.  The blog’s focus will continue to be primarily–if not entirely–photography-related.

I’m going to pivot, however, from this point of emphasis for a moment.  This entry–the one you’re currently reading–is going to head in another direction, for reasons that will presumably become apparent presently.  As I said, I don’t see this sort of thing becoming a topical trend, so if you’re hoping for more photography-related material, that will return in the next entry.  (The topic has already been selected…and everything!)  In the meantime, indulge me, if you’d be so kind.

A few days ago, in an extremely gracious acknowledgment post, a fellow blogger referred to me as “she.”  It was the fifth such reference–to me as a female–that I’m aware of in the blogosphere in the past few weeks, all of them by different individuals.  Why am I mentioning this?  Because–in a revelation that is sure to be a surprise to at least some of you–I’m a he, not a she.  I’m quite certain of this; the reality is starkly reinforced every time I prepare to take a shower…among other situations.

I make light of this because…look, I’ve been dealing with this sort of thing my entire life.  It is not the fault of my fellow bloggers that they drew an assumption; they join a long and (somewhat) illustrious list of individuals who have erroneously assumed, based on my first name, that I’m female.

One would think that I’d have become used to this–and in fact, I have, in a sense.  This was not always so.  When I was a kid, this first name business had the potential to turn me into a target.  Coupled with my stature–I was always the shortest kid in my class until I was in high school–I might as well have had a “kick me” sign permanently affixed to my body.  (I’m convinced that it was only my considerable natural athletic ability that saved me from a childhood of victimization at the hands of bullies.)  Now it’s simply an annoyance that has to be dealt with.  After all, it can be extremely awkward–believe me, I know–to have someone assume I’m a woman when I’m…well, not.  I’ve received some rather embarrassing unsolicited inquiries in this regard over the years, the details of which I will spare you.  Suffice to say that it’s to everyone’s distinct advantage that it be widely known in advance that I am, in fact, male.

In any event, this difficulty is, quite obviously, the fault of my mother for giving me an androgynous first name.  My mother’s early experience with the name “Kerry” came from the syndicated comic strip Kerry Drake, which ran in American newspapers from the mid-1940s into the 1980s.  The title character of the strip was a police detective who was certainly male so my mother, naturally, assumed that only men were named Kerry.  Oops.  In fairness to my mom, when spelled K-E-R-R-Y the name is more common among males than females.  But there are numerous other spellings, virtually all of them purely feminine.  Add it all up and you get…a mess.

For years I longed for an athlete with the first name “Kerry” to achieve superstar status, thereby (hopefully) solving my problem.  And there have been some candidates.  Kerry Kittles was an All-American college basketball player at Villanova, but his pro career fizzled.  Kerry Wood was a rookie pitcher in 1998, came a whisker away from a perfect game (a contest I happened to watch) and appeared headed for superstardom…but he mucked up his arm and, while he’s still pitching, won’t be remembered by anyone other than baseball aficionados like myself.  Kerry Collins was a star quarterback at Penn State and had a long NFL career (which included a Super Bowl appearance), but he never really achieved true star status as a pro.  Kerry Huffman had a 10-year NHL career but was never a star.  Meanwhile, none of the above individuals was likely as well-known as Kerry Kennedy…who was, of course, female.  Sigh.

I’ve tried to deal with this whole Kerry issue by occasionally using my middle name–Mark.  If you look at the banner of this blog, for instance, you’ll see it.  One of the bloggers who I delicately informed of this “I’m not a she” mistake apologized abjectly but mentioned that she had a friend whose maiden name was “Mark”…so, she told me, she had thought that Mark was my maiden name.  Argh!  It was a perfectly understandable assumption on her part, but…so much for my “ace in the hole.”

And so, my latest salvo…this blog entry.  I’ve concluded that this will memorialize my travails with the first name Kerry and, in the future (when needed), I can simply direct people here to explain my “hardship.”

And, in the interest of retaining the photographic theme of the blog, here’s a self-portrait, shot at Bandelier National Monument in New Mexico about four years ago.

As an aside, the story behind the making of this image is kind of interesting.

I set the shot up to be taken without a figure (which I did) and then I climbed up the ladder and asked my wife to trip the cable release when I gave her the high sign.  It went something like this:

I climbed to the point on the ladder that you see here and then said: “Okay, when I say…”

CLICK

“No, no, wait a second. Wait until I tell you to…”

CLICK

“Wait! Don’t…”

CLICK

“W–”

CLICK

It was a bit frustrating, but we ultimately worked it out [roll of eyes] and I deleted a lot of shots right off the card.

Back to photography next time, I promise.  Thanks for indulging me.

I’ll have a more substantive post in place in the next few days; in the meantime I’m taking the opportunity to deal with some procedural matters.

First, I’ve begun a stint as a guest blogger at 1001 Scribbles.  I’ll be offering photography tips every other Thursday on this very well-regarded and highly-followed blog.  My first post there was published on January 12; you can view it here.  My posts aside, I encourage you to check out Ana’s blog which is eclectic and always interesting.

Second, I’m the recipient of another blogging award.  This one is known as the 7×7 Link Award.  My sincere thanks go out to Amira of the Mind Blur blog for the nomination.  You are strongly urged to check this blog out.  It’s a fascinating melange of poetry, general insight and an insider’s look at the Maldives.  By all means, take a look.

As is the case with most blogging awards, there are some obligations that recipients incur.  In the case of the 7×7 Links Award, those are as follows:

1. I am charged with posting seven links from my own blog which correspond to a specific category: Most Beautiful, Most Helpful, Most Popular, Most Controversial, Most Surprisingly Successful, Most Underrated, Most Prideworthy.
2. I am supposed to nominate 7 other bloggers to receive the award.

Let’s deal with the first obligation:

1. Most Beautiful – This puts me in the rather uncomfortable position of having to determine which combination of my writing and images is the “most beautiful.”  Ugh.  Make that double ugh.  I suppose the meaning of the term “beautiful” is open to interpretation, so I will–essentially by default–choose the one that I feel has the most personal meaning:  The Moment.
2. Most Helpful – It’s debatable, but based on some feedback, I’ll lean in favor of One Way to Solve an Exposure Problem.
3. Most Popular – A group of entries, actually; the three installments of my The Mountain State series:  The Mountain State Part I, The Mountain State Part II and The Mountain State Part III.
4. Most Controversial – That would probably the one where I mused on the existence of a supreme being.  Just kidding.   I haven’t posted anything intentionally controversial, but the closest thing would probably be Critiquing Critiques.
5. Most Surprisingly Successful – Absolutely no idea, unless it’s the very fact that the blog itself remains intact 2 1/2 years after it started.  So let’s go all the way back to Why Blog?
6. Most Underrated – Geez…again, I really don’t know.  I’ll reach a bit here and go with The Photographic Doldrums.
7. Most Prideworthy – Let’s go with the entry that ultimately proved that the blog had staying power (it was my first post in six months at the time):  Back In the Saddle.

Before I get to the part about passing the award along, a word or two.  This is the third blogging award I’ve been nominated for in the past three weeks.  After receiving the second–the Versatile Blogger Award–at the tail end of December, I took a moment to address the broader matter of blogging awards.  You can read my statement by examining the first few paragraphs of the linked entry.  I still believe what I wrote a couple of weeks ago; while there is almost certainly an element of truth that underlies the belief that these blogging awards are the functional equivalent of a glorified chain letter, I maintain that the majority of people who follow through on the process of passing the awards along take the attached “responsibilities” seriously.  You can see this for yourself by reading the entries that award recipients post in recognition of nomination.  The sincerity of these folks is evident.

All that being said, as I mentioned above, this is the third time in three weeks I’ve been asked to nominate a significant number of blogs to receive the award.  I”ve already selected 15 for other awards and, I’m well aware that there are plenty of recognition-worthy bloggers who want absolutely no part of this process.  That’s fine–it’s their decision to opt out for any one of a number of reasons, none of which are open to question from me.  I don’t want to renominate any blogs that I’ve already recognized and, while I’m 100% certain that there are countless blogs out there in the blogosphere that would be worthy recipients, in the interest of dwindling time (I can’t, in good conscience, nominate a blog that I haven’t been reading for some time), I’m not simply going to go out and troll for some of these to fulfill what is, in the end, a rather arbitrary quota.  Therefore, I’m only nominating two other blogs at this time.

The nominees.

1. NgTom’s That’s How I See The World demonstrates an uncanny ability to express meaning visually in breathtaking simplicity.  The imagery Tom displays could–and should–serve as an instructive tutorial on eliminating distractions.  Highly recommended.
2. Steve Schwartzmann of Portraits of Wildflowers posts marvelous images of Texas plant-life (mainly, but not exclusively, close-ups) accompanied by learned write-ups of the subject matter (with some phtography-talk mixed in here and there for good measure).  Definitely not to be missed.

Finally, I welcome people’s thoughts on blogging awards; you’ve read mine.  Feel free to post your thoughts in the comments section.  I’ve made some assumptions about what “most” bloggers think, but there’s always potential danger in assuming.  Please express your opinions; I’m quite interested in what you have to say.

In response to my last post, Cindy of photosfromtheloonybin asked:  “aren’t many people’s photos partly a product of chance and luck?”  It’s an excellent (if loaded ) question.  The answer, of course, is “yes.”  For some photographers–and for most of those engaged in certain types of photography–the answer is a resounding yes.

But what about landscape photography in particular?  In this case–and based on how I practice it–the reply is “not so much.”  This is not to say that luck doesn’t enter into the equation at all.  In fact, it’s a factor in virtually every photograph I take.  Occasionally, it’s an overwhelming variable in the equation of success, as I have documented in the past.  But this is the exception to the rule.  A clear majority of the time luck plays an important but comparatively modest role.

Planning is a major factor in landscape photography–90% of the deal in the estimation of quietsolopursuits, who also weighed in on the previous entry.  So is familiarity with the location in question.  Efficient photography, regardless of the genre, is about the photographer giving himself the best chance of success, but some forms are more responsive to pre-shoot preparation than others.  Street photography, for instance:  the photographer can put himself in an area with a lot of potentially interesting action, but ultimately it will materialize or it won’t.  With landscape photography, there are times when I am 100% positive about what I’m going to get; it’s a photographic classification that is in a highly cooperative relationship with planning.

When I’m shooting away from my home bases, I always try to build in enough time to allow for multiple visits to all of the spots on my “must see” list, and a significant amount of my time is spent scouting locations, frequently without camera gear in tow.  In a nut shell, the goal is to determine what conditions make a spot shootable; what is the best specific location (or locations, plural) to place myself when those conditions are present; what gear is needed to produce the ideal shot.  The idea, in other words, is to remove as much luck from the formula as possible.

When I’m shooting closer to home, I’m familiar enough with many spots to know from experience where to go when the “right” conditions materialize.

All of the images accompanying this entry are examples of what I’m talking about.  Admittedly luck was a factor, at some level, in all of them, but not the overwhelming factor in any of them.

Spring Has Sprung, Big Walnut Preserve, Indiana

1.  On a windy, sunny afternoon–quite unsuitable for photographing the subject matter I was experiencing–a couple of springs ago, I paid a visit to Big Walnut Preserve, less than two hours from my base in Indianapolis.  I didn’t take my gear with me; this was a scouting expedition, plain and simple.  I spent a couple of hours walking the trails and observed that the redbud and dogwood were just starting to burst out, as was the new spring growth on the trees and shrubs.  I carefully noted what appeared to be the best locations for the optimal conditions.  One good rain would really make the place sing, I reasoned.  A few days later, overnight rain was forecast.  I resolved to be on site first thing in the morning, when the soft light and calm conditions would predominate.  It meant a very early morning, but it paid off.  When I arrived the following morning, civil twilight was just setting in.  I quickly hiked the mile-and-a-half or so to the spot, creekside, that I had taken note of a few days earlier.  I wasn’t disappointed.  Luck involved?  None, other than waiting for that overnight rain.

McConnell's Mill, McConnell's Mill State Park, Pennsylvania

2. Fall, 2010…I had parts of only two days to photograph McConnell’s Mill State Park.  I arrived late morning and spent roughly five hours scouting the place.  I discovered a particular vantage point to photograph the mill itself, at some point mid-afternoon.  The light was awful–and wasn’t going to be ideal at any point during the duration of the day; there was also a number of people wandering around–but I could see that first thing in the morning, before the sun hit the trees, it would be ideal.  Also, with the extremely cool evenings, I reasoned that Slippery Rock Creek would be emitting copious mist before dawn (given the disparity of air and water temperature).  And wind would be minimal, crucial for freezing the delicate lacy leaves still clinging to the overhanging foreground branches.  A slow shutter speed would be required to render the water in the manner I desired so calm conditions were a must.  I resolved to return 30 minutes before sunrise the following morning; there would be no one else around.  Bingo.  Luck involved?  Playing the percentages had to pay off.  I got the light mist, I got the unpopulated scene and I got dead calm.

Olympic Sunrise, Obstruction Point Road, Olympic National Park, Washington

3.  My first day in the Hurricane Ridge area I spent late morning, after the good light was gone, scouting the area along Obstruction Point Road, in the Olympic high country, based on the recommendation of a photographer I know who was highly familiar with the area.  I took my time wandering around on foot, and stumbled across a meadow of lupine and buttercups, overlooking a marvelous view of the distant Olympic Mountains.  The vista was east-facing, so I knew that it was a sunrise shot.  I marked the spot on my GPS and resolved to return…which I did, two mornings later.  It was a 3 AM wakeup, and it was still dark when I arrived at the designated place.  As the darkness began to fade I found my foreground and set up, waiting for the best light.  I was completely prepared when that happened.

Coneflower Morning, Nachusa Grasslands Preserve, Illinois

4.  The Nachusa Grasslands are about two hours from my base in the Chicago area.  I’ve shot there a number of times and have noted where the very best locations are each year for purple coneflowers.  The best time to shoot in Nachusa is in the summer, when the prairie wildflowers are in bloom.  When I arrived at an absurdly early hour of the morning very near the summer solstice, I saw the outline of a single bank of clouds drifting toward the eastern horizon.  I knew where there was a nice stand of coneflowers that would afford an eastern vantage point and, with a flashlight, made my way towards them.  I’d never have found them if I didn’t already know where they were located–it was too dark.  Luck?  The clouds on the eastern skyline…that was luck.  My ability to know right where to go if there were clouds in the east–that was preparation/experience.

Pacific Sunset, Port Orford Head State Park, Oregon

5.  After being foiled by the (expletive deleted) marine layer in my attempts to photograph a Pacific sunset for two solid weeks in Washington and Oregon, on my last night–at Bandon, Oregon–I resolved to find somewhere that would afford a true sunset.  I wanted to shoot from Bandon Beach, but I had dealt with the marine layer there two nights in a row and had been told by a local that I might have better luck further south.  During the poor light of late morning and early afternoon, I scouted more than a dozen potential sunset locations further south.  I figured if the marine layer rolled into Bandon in the early evening I’d drive south until I saw it dissipate.  Like clockwork, the marine layer blew into Bandon at around 6 PM and I immediately bailed out.  By the time I reached Port Orford, the marine layer was only visible as a tiny band on the horizon.  Earlier in the day I had found a spot in Port Orford Head State Park that I thought would make a fine vantage point for sunset.  I raced out to the clifftop point and simply waited for the light.

Sunset, Wooly Back Overlook, Blue Ridge Parkway, North Carolina

6.  On a trip to Great Smoky Mountains National Park in 2004, I scouted numerous overlooks on the Blue Ridge Parkway that would afford good sunset views.  I settled upon Wooly Back as the best, and set up there one evening only to see the sunset fizzle completely behind a heavy band of clouds.  I didn’t have another chance to try my luck during that trip, but I took note of the spot–remembered the name of the overlook–and resolved to return on my next journey to the area.  When I came back–four years later–I found the exact mile marker of the spot via an Internet search.  I was lucky enough to get a decent sunset, but I was prepared enough to be in the right spot when it happened.

I hope it doesn’t sound as though I’m patting myself on the back here, because it’s not my intent to do so.  I did absolutely nothing, with regard to any of the above examples, that anyone else couldn’t do…and many, many other photographers routinely do this much and far more in their quest for images.  The point is that preparation pays off.  Effort is required, yes…but it is rewarded, many times over.  There will always be luck involved, but you’ll be amazed at how much more fortunate you are when you’ve laid the necessary groundwork to take advantage of it.

Because they apparently feel as though I possess some degree of acumen when it comes to the landscape, many people seem to believe that I ought to be accomplished in all areas of photography.  This line of thinking seems to more or less conform to the following notion:  you know how a camera works, you’re a capable portrait/event/action/street/etc. photographer.  This makes little sense to me.  It’s essentially consistent with the notion that a delivery truck driver ought to be racing at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  (After all, if you know how to operate a motorized vehicle…)

In any case, it’s not true.  I do not consider myself an accomplished anything-photographer…with the possible exception of the landscape (and that’s only if I choose to believe my “press clippings”).  Even when it comes to other areas of nature photography I don’t regard myself as adept.  I dabble in macro and come up with a pretty decent shot every now and then but that’s more a function of the law of averages, I think, than any particular erudition on my part.

When it comes to wildlife photography, I’ve always said that you can fit what I know about it in a thimble and have plenty of room left over.  Oh, I have some passing knowledge of what’s required and I certainly appreciate how difficult a discipline it is, but it’s definitely not my forte.

The requisite skills of landscape and wildlife photography couldn’t be much different from one another; virtually the only commonality, in fact, are the broad technical fundamentals of the photographic discipline.  Wildlife photography has far more in common with other forms of action photography–a genre in which I do not excel–than that of the landscape.

Great Blue Heron, Churchill Woods Forest Preserve, Illinois

And yet…every now and then, when I’m in the field, an animal is kind enough to pose for me and I come away with a wildlife keeper.  I’ve sold prints of most of the images accompanying this entry; several have been competition award winners.  I regard all of this as further evidence that even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then.

"Mother and Child Reunion," Columbia Black Tail Doe and Fawn, Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park, Washington

Every image accompanying this piece was simply a case of happenstance.  The image of the Great Blue Heron was a fluke; I stumbled onto a heron/egret rookery in northeast Illinois while planning to shoot some spring wildflowers.  The heron pictured just happened to be standing amidst impeccable light.  The doe and fawn simply popped up out of the tall grass (and lupine) while I was photographing early morning landscapes at Hurricane Ridge.  I found the praying mantis by accident when photographing wildflowers in central Indiana.  The butterfly simply landed amidst the azaleas I was shooting in South Carolina.  I was shooting in the thick morning fog at Tillamook Bay when the cormorant jumped up on a partially submerged rock.  The ponies were amidst the brackish Atlantic Coast marshes on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

Praying Mantis, Marion County, Indiana

In effect, I was simply lucky–in the right place at the right time.  I was so surprised that, each time, I was manually focusing on the subjects, too stunned to engage my camera’s autofocus capabilities.  (I never use autofocus when shooting landscapes or close-ups, so I rarely even think to use it.)  Talk about a self-imposed handicap!

Swallowtail and Azaleas, Kings Mountain State Park, South Carolina

The most significant and obvious difference between the wildlife and landscape genres is that–generally speaking–the main elements of the latter category don’t move.  This single distinction has all sorts of implications that dictate distinct photographic techniques.

Cormorant in Morning Fog, Tillamook Bay, Oregon

Beyond technical considerations, there’s the art of seeing to consider.  One must “see” the shot in both cases, but how one sees is quite different, in part because the compositional elements are different.  The principles of composition are often quite similar, but the relationship between the photographer and the elements of the shot…not so much.  The wildlife photographer is usually far more at the mercy of the compositional elements than the landscape photographer who typically has more control over his perspective in relation to the subject (again–movement, or lack thereof).  This, I think, is the reason why I prefer landscapes.  I like the notion of being in creative control.

Wild Ponies, Assateague Island National Seashore, Maryland

Or am I simply fooling myself?  Perhaps the reason that I am less enamored with the practice of wildlife photography is that I’m simply not very good at it.  The truth will set you free.

It’s Award Week here on the blog. Last week I was nominated for the Kreativ Blogger Award.  On December 28, Judy of jayjaysfavorites blog nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award.

Before I go any further, I want to say a word or two about blogger awards in general.  There’s a certain segment of the blogosphere–perhaps a demographic of significant size–that views these awards with a bit of a jaundiced eye and appears to want no part of them.  This perspective views the awards cynically; many of  them come with “rules” that “require” the recipient to pass the award along to six or ten or 15 other bloggers, and the sense is that, over time, the entire process becomes watered down.  There also is a belief that, ultimately, recipients don’t spend any time thinking about who the next set of award winners ought to be and, as a result, the significance of the award is lost.

I’m sure there’s more than a kernel of truth to this, but I have no reason to believe it describes the majority of the people who receive and bequeath these awards.  I think most people accept them graciously and really do consider which blogs they choose to recognize in turn.  On balance, I think these awards are a good thing; I think they provide exposure to worthy blog efforts by making more people aware of talented bloggers than would otherwise be the case.

And so, I sincerely thank Judy for presenting me with the Versatile Blogger Award.  I’ve checked out the other blogs that Judy chose to recognize and I have no doubt at all that great consideration was made on her part in determining her selections.  That my blog was included is a humbling, but gratifying, experience.  Be sure to check out Judy’s blog–it’s well worth your time.

 The Rules

These are the rules that every nominee must comply with:

1. Thank the award-giver and link back to them in your post.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass this award along to 15 recently discovered blogs you enjoy reading.
4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award.

#1 has been taken care of above.

#2…this is kind of tough because I just went through a version of this exercise the last time around, but here are seven more things about me.

• For the last eight-plus years I’ve split my time more or less evenly between the Chicago and Indianapolis areas, traveling back and forth roughly every two weeks.  (I have family obligations in both places.)
• I hold degrees from the University of Michigan (B.A., political science) and University of Chicago (M.A., statistics and social science research methodology).
• I’ve had the opportunity to play baseball at Camden Yards in Baltimore, home of the Baltimore Orioles major league baseball team
• I’ve read Shelby Foote’s 2500-odd page trilogy, The Civil War: A Narrative, about the American Civil War, twice.
• My favorite novel is Joseph Heller’s Catch-22.
• My master’s thesis was entitled “The Nature of Ideology and Partisanship Among American College Students” and was based, in part, on a 200-person survey that I designed, implemented and analyzed.
• I don’t gamble on anything, ever.  Part of this is because I don’t have the stomach for it and part of it is that my extensive background in probability theory allows me to really understand games of chance (and they’re essentially all rigged in favor of the house).

#3…the 15 bloggers I’m nominating for the award…well, rules were made to be broken, right?  I’m only nominating nine other bloggers.  Don’t like it?  Tell it to the judge.

1. Victoria of Victoria A Photography Blog is located in Melbourne, Australia and posts marvelous images from the Melbourne Zoo (and other spots around the area).  Check it out, you won’t regret it.
2. Jennifer Triplett of An Artist’s Eye at Treebranchdesign Blog posts remarkably creative, eye-catching material day after day.  No two posts are alike.
3. Naomi Wittlin of the Poetic Aperture Blog epitomizes what the Versatile Blogger Award is all about; take a look and see what I mean for yourself.  Always well-written, always insightful.
4. Anne Camille of the Four Deer Oak Blog consistently posts well-written entries filled with interesting images.  Lately there has been a plethora of well-seen close-ups and intimates.  I encourage you to take a long look.
5. Malcom Newell of PhotoLancaster Blog is based just south of England’s Lake District and routinely posts excellent imagery of many different genres with the occasional poem tossed in for good measure.  Again, the essence of versatility.
6. If artistic versatility is your thing you owe it to yourself to check out the blog of James Brandon O’Shea.  Poetry, prose, photography, sketching…James does it all and he does it all very well.
7. Scott Brill of the Pieces of Me and Other Sundry Things Blog never ceases to post thought-provoking entries–sometimes prose, sometimes imagery, sometimes a combination of the two.
8. Paprika is the pseudonymous blogger at Paprika-no-Yume and is virtually bubbling over with multifaceted creativity.
9. Lynn Emberg Purse of Composer in the Garden Blog fits the “versatile” description, cubed.  Composer, singer, musician, photographer, writer, gardener…there are probably three or four things I’m leaving out.  Experience the wealth of brilliant original material from a variety of media on her blog; you won’t be sorry.

For many people, photography’s most noteworthy asset is its ability to capture and preserve precious memories in a mode that is both widely accessible and easily, if not universally, understood.  A glance at a still image can awaken a flood of recollections; therein lies its power as medium.  It’s not the only method to such a means, but it almost certainly is the most broadly attainable.

John McDevitt, on his blog, demonstrates this underlying photographic principle on a regular basis.  In a recent entry, using a photograph as the visual inspiration for a story about a senior prom circa 50 years ago, John hit the snail squarely on the head, as per usual.  In so doing, he prodded me to delve into a subject that I have been musing about for some time:  the potential for new photographs to serve as something of a surrogate for old ones as an invocation of memories.

My wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary this past August.  In commemoration of the occasion, my mother wanted to present us with a special gift.  Months in the planning, she designed and ultimately created a matted three-window wall hanging that included:

1) a photograph from our wedding day–a black and white image that was taken as a candid while, ironically, my wife and I were posing for a formal shot

2) one of the original wedding invitations that were sent out, and

3) a photograph of the location where the ceremony was held

The entire piece was headed, in impeccable calligraphy by renowned artist Tim Botts, who happens to live approximately one block away from my mother’s home.  The calligraphic word?  “Remember.”  It’s a marvelous, touching piece of work and one that my wife and I treasure.

There was only one problem, of a sort, and that was associated with the third numbered point above: the photograph of the location.  The wedding was held at the Lake Ellyn Boathhouse.  The only appropriate image my mother could find came from a local historical society.  A scan was made of what was a fairly low-quality original.  Beyond issues of quality, there was one other issue–the wood siding on the boathouse in the image was red.  No one I know has any recollection of the boathouse as having ever been anything other than brown.  In any event, the building was most certainly painted brown at the time of the wedding.

Less than entirely satisfied after the presentation of the gift, my mother approached me about photographing the boathouse myself.  She would then replace the original with a print of an image I produced.  I, naturally, agreed.

In early September of this year, just a few weeks after receiving the gift, I had the opportunity to scout the location in preparation for shooting it under suitable light.  Though I’ve lived not far from Lake Ellyn for the lion’s share of the last four decades, I had never photographed it, or even seriously considered doing so.  But my scouting expedition revealed more potential than I had presumed.

I returned a few days later in even light, for the shoot.  Lake Ellyn is almost always a breezy spot, which tends to wreak havoc on reflections, but I managed to catch a relatively low-wind moment.  The image below is the one that went into the revised wall hanging.  It’s a rather unremarkable shot, in my view, but it more than adequately suits the intended purpose.  This is almost exactly what the scene looked like on the day my wife and I were married, which of course, was the point of the presentation.  The final version is now even more special, if that’s possible, than was originally the case given that my image is part of it.

Lake Ellyn Boathouse, Lake Ellyn Park, Illinois

We’ve come full circle.  A photograph taken more than ten years after the event being commemorated is now an integral component of an article designed to serve as a locus of memory.  Sometimes it’s possible to create a new remembrance for an old memory…through photography.

Epilogue:  I was so taken with the Lake Ellyn location that I resolved to return in late October, when the trees–hopefully–would be at peak color.  And so I did.  On a very chilly morning in late October, I arrived before sunrise, and shot the boathouse from a variety of spots.  In my favorite of the group, shot less than 30 minutes after sunrise, a small group of ducks serendipitously provided added interest to the colorful scene.

Lake Ellyn Autumn, Lake Ellyn Park, Illinois

Imagine my surprise when I discovered today that I was nominated for the Kreativ Blogger Award.  It’s always nice to receive this sort of acknowledgement, but what makes this extra special is that the nomination came from Lynn Emberg Purse, the extraordinarily talented author of the Composer in the Garden blog.  If you haven’t already had the pleasure of reading Lynn’s blog I urge you to do so immediately and indulge yourself with some truly marvelous stimuli–visual, musical, written.  You will not be sorry, I promise you.

So my sincere thanks to Lynn for the nomination.

The award comes with a set of minor obligations.

• The Kreativ Blogger image must be displayed on the blog (see above).
• The nominator must be acknowledged (see above)
• The recipient must state ten things about himself that his readers probably don’t know (see below)
• The recipient must pass the award along by nominating at least six blogs to receive the award (see even further below)

Okay, on to the “ten things”:

1. I played baseball competitively until I was in my mid-20s, up to the semi-professional level; I also played hockey as a youth
2. I live to see stereotypes explode
3. I’m quite finicky when it comes to food; I’m not proud of this, but there it is
4. I love animals, especially cats
5. I hold an advanced degree in statistics and social science research methodology
6. I’m non-confrontational to a fault until pushed beyond some imaginary line at which point I become…let’s just say I have a breaking point; it takes an awful, awful lot to get there but if I become convinced I’ve been wronged, duck
7. I have a dream to conduct meaningful landscape photography in every American state and Canadian province; I’m off to a somewhat sluggish start (17 states, one province)
8. I’ve had a standing offer to be nominated to become the United States Secretary of State since the mid-1980s; the problem is that the person who made the offer (a college classmate of mine, now a magistrate in the western part of the U.S.) has to become President first, and that seems increasingly unlikely with every passing day since…well, since the mid-1980s
9. I’m a real extrovert (ha); my idea of a fun evening is to stay home and read a book (seriously!)
10. If I could paint or draw to the level of my satisfaction (or had any real hope of doing so), I doubt I ever would have become serious about landscape photography

And now the six blogs I’m nominating for the Kreativ Blogger Award:

1.  The Aware Writer:  John McDevitt writes an extremely versatile blog that never fails to engage; I heartily recommend it to you.

2. Blogging Through the Wreckage:  My friend Ranjit Dighe, an economics professor at SUNY-Oswego, blogs on the American financial crisis and its aftermath (to the extent that its actually over–very much a debatable point).  He writes in an understandable way and–here’s the kicker–he actually knows what he’s talking about.  Highly recommended.

3.  351 in 365:  melfrommass is on a quest to visit all 351 municipalities in Massachusetts in a year.  Check it out–you get photos and Mel’s irreverent take on these places, all from the comfort of your own computer or handheld device.  It’s a lot of fun and, if you pay attention, you might actually (gasp) learn a thing or two.

4.  photos from the loonybin:  Cindy Taylor blogs on…well, just about everything.  Updated daily, always fresh, always with at least one photo…be sure not to miss the Mystery Photo Challenge.

5.  Third Eye:  Mahesh Patil, based in Mumbai, India, invariably has a fascinating photo (or several) as part of his blog entries.  The subject matter is incredibly variable but the level of intrigue is not–it’s always sky high.  Be certain to check it out.

6.  50 Year Project:  TBM has a blog devoted to the following project:  “This blog will be about my pursuit of visiting 192 countries, reading 1001 books, and watching the top 100 movies before I die.”  Sound ambitious?  Intrigued?  The answers should be “yes” and “yes,” so be sure to take a look.

That’s all for now.  I’m working on a more traditional entry that will be posted within the next few days.

(In case you missed them, Part I and Part II of this series can be accessed via the corresponding links.)

I decided to spend the morning of Friday, October 7, nosing around the Baell Trail area of the Canaan Valley National Wildlife Refuge.  This nook is highly reminiscent of many of the ecosystems I find myself photographing in the upper Midwest.  But weather conditions had meant heavy valley fog for the previous two mornings and I was anticipating more of the same.  As I have mentioned before, fog is a positive boon for landscape photography and in a place filled with clutter like CVNWR, it can be transforming.  Scenes one would walk past without a second glance become remarkably compelling.

As the morning wore on, the fog began to burn off and I was treated to a comparatively rare opportunity to photograph “god beams” as the sunlight filtered through the remaining mist and trees.  The sublime scene was a marvel, coupled with the near-silence–broken only by the occasional bird’s call–and my images surely don’t do it justice.  It was worth experiencing regardless.

Baell Trail black & white, Canaan Valley National Wildlife Refuge, West Virginia

Later in the day, I joined up with Jim Moore‘s weekend workshop.  I don’t attend workshops very often–I’ve only been a part of three of them in all my years photographing–but Jim knows the West Virginia Highlands as well as or better than anyone and I knew it would be worth my time.

The afternoon and early evening was spent back at Blackwater Falls State Park, which included return visits to Blackwater Falls itself as well as Elakala Falls.  Elakala Falls has multiple tiers.  (The first tier is displayed in my Elakala shot as part of the first post in this series.)  I’ve been photographing waterfalls and cascades for ages and it’s always interesting to me how different levels of water flow optimize different cataracts.  For instance, the first tier of Elakala looks best, in my opinion, when it’s roaring, as it was early in my full week in West Virginia.  But the second tier, I feel, does better with a lesser flow.  So, while I photographed that second tier early in the week, I was pleased to return to the site and have another go at it when the water level was somewhat lower, following several days lacking precipitation.  I wedged my way down to the water’s edge and noticed the swirls.  After some experimentation, I concluded that a 10-second exposure was optimum.

Elakala Falls Tier 2, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

A return to Bear Rocks was on the agenda for the following morning (Saturday, October 8).  My participation in the workshop paid off big time; after my flat tire experience at Dolly Sods on Thursday,  I was only too happy to let someone else drive me up there!  It was a very early morning again, but it was well worth it.  It was still pitch dark when we arrived, but the stars were visible–for the first time in my three visits during the week there would be a sunrise at Bear Rocks!  Additionally, the winds were very light; my estimate was 5 MPH.  And once civil twilight set in, I could see that the valley fog that had been in abundance all week would be present again.  Up at Bear Rocks, all of the mist was below us.  I could see that this had the potential to be a very special sunrise.  The only thing missing would be broken clouds that would light up as sunrise approached.  The sky above was clear, but the rest of the conditions were essentially ideal.

Bear Rocks Dawn, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

As civil twilight advanced to dawn and then to sunrise itself, the conditions changed but excellent image-making opportunities remained.

Pre-Sunrise, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

I found myself moving back and forth between my wide angle/normal zoom (24-70 mm) and telephoto lenses (80-400 mm).  Seemingly whenever I thought I was done with one lens or the other, I spotted something compelling that I knew required the lens I didn’t have mounted on the camera at the time to capture.

Misty Dawn, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

Excellent shooting conditions lasted much longer than I had originally anticipated, which provided the opportunity to capture many frames before the light was lost.

Sunrise, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

Even long after sunrise, overlook opportunities abounded.

Light and Fog, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

The late afternoon and early evening was spent back in Canaan Valley, as was the following morning (Sunday, October 9), which was to be the end of my time in the area.  I’d admired a farmstead near the CVNWR Freeland tract for a long time, but had never experienced truly outstanding conditions in which to photograph it.  That finally changed on Sunday morning.  After a decidedly ho hum sunrise in the valley–for the first time all week there was no valley fog–I noticed a few low, pink clouds in the western sky.  Never fail to look over your shoulder; that’s an old landscape photography maxim.  I raced to a position where I could shoot the farm and incorporate the clouds.  An added bonus was the string of cows making its way toward pasture in the early morning.

Freeland Farm Dawn, Tucker County, West Virginia

As I prepared for the 500-odd mile drive back to the Midwest, I stopped in western Maryland at a bucolic highway overlook.  It was mid-morning, but the light was still good enough for a parting image or two.

Countryside, Garrett County, Maryland

I hope you enjoyed the fruits of my October trip to the Mountain State of West Virginia.

As I mentioned in part one of this brief series of entries, the first few days (Oct. 2-4) in the Canaan Valley area of West Virginia were spent dealing with temperatures peaking–peaking, mind you–at 40 degrees (F) and nearly constant precipitation:  snow, light rain or mist and fog.  At some point during the afternoon of  Tuesday, October 4, the rain stopped.  It remained overcast throughout the day but the forecast–I always make it a point to keep a close eye on impending weather–was for a dramatic warm-up and clear skies by morning.  That was, in fact, the forecast for the remainder of the week in the area.

Have you ever come back from a clear-blue-sky photo trip and had someone ask you how it went?  Ever reply with something along the lines of “well, it was non-stop sun” and have them respond, “oh, you lucky dog!”  They just don’t get it, but then, neither did I until I became serious about photography many years ago.  The fact is, particularly when I’m photographing in forested locations and/or along creeks and streams, overcast skies are just what the doctor ordered.  Cloudy skies, of course, mean soft, even light.  No heavy contrast to deal with.  No hot spots caused by sunlight filtering through the trees.  Add in some fog and it’s just about perfect.  So, as unpleasant as I made the first few days in West Virginia sound, they were actually very nice from a photographic standpoint.  Yes, keeping equipment–and myself–dry was a pain in the rump, but the even light and sometimes foggy conditions were much appreciated by this photographer.

The only real casualty to the weather I had to deal with through Tuesday afternoon was a complete absence of sunrises and sunsets.  But I could see that this was coming to an end as of Wednesday morning, so I got up 2 1/2 hours before sunrise on October 5 and made the drive from Canaan Valley to Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia, to shoot sunrise from an east overlook on the way up to the summit.  I ordinarily don’t like to shoot dawn/sunrise shots when the sky is cloudless, but given the added altitude (above 4000 feet) of my perch a remarkable gradient was visible in a clear eastern sky beginning with civil twilight–roughly 30 minutes before sunrise.

Spruce Knob Dawn, Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

After the sun began to crest the mountain ridges to the east, wonderful views of the slopes and valleys below filled me with near sensory overload.

Spruce Knob Sunrise, Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

A trip to the summit–I had the place entirely to myself–led me to the Whistling Spruce trail, which provides the the hiker with 360 degree views of the area.  Now that the sun was up, I concentrated my attention to westward overlooks.  Valley fog–very common in this area at this time of the year–was in abundance to the west, which produced some truly unique vistas.

Islands in the Fog, Whistling Spruce Trail, Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

It had been a productive morning, well worth the absurd wake up time.  The sun ultimately burned off the fog and I lost the light by mid-morning.  The rest of the morning and first half of the afternoon was spent scouting other shooting areas and undertaking some close-up shooting of diffused subjects.

Fallen Maple Leaves Close-up, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

The day culminated with a sunset shoot of Blackwater Canyon from Lindy Point in Blackwater Falls State Park.

Blackwater Canyon at Sunset from Lindy Point, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

The following day (October 6) I awoke even earlier and made my way up to Bear Rocks, in the Dolly Sods wilderness.  This was the spot where I endured 40 MPH-plus winds the previous year.  I had trekked up there–over some very iffy forest roads, I might add, not incidentally (take this as a bit of foreshadowing)–for no particularly good reason, in the gloom on Tuesday morning.  On my first foray to the spot this year I was greeted with socked in fog, high (roughly 30 MPH) winds and light rain.  It wasn’t a total loss as I simply sashayed down the road a mile or so to the Blackbird Knob trail head and hiked into the back country, where the wind was far less of a problem.  But on Thursday, to my astonishment, when I arrived at my destination, it was dead calm at Bear Rocks.  (I couldn’t believe it; I’m still having a hard time believing it now, to be honest.)  It was also foggy, so while there would be no sunrise vista this morning, I would be able to shoot the beautiful heaths in foggy conditions without having to deal with high winds.  I was thrilled.

Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

While shooting, I saw a “fog bow” for the first time.  I’ve heard about them, but this was the first time I had the opportunity to see one with my own eyes.  It was a bit of a scramble to set up to photograph this phenomenon, and it’s more of a documentary shot than anything else, but it was a fascinating sight.

Fog Bow, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

The appearance of the fog bow told me that the mist was thinning and that the sun would burn through presently–which would essentially end the photo session.  But I tried to make the best of it before the fog lifted completely.

Fog & Sun, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

More than satisfied with the morning’s experience, I packed up my things, returned to my car and began the trip back down the same miserable, steep unpaved forest roads towards Canaan Valley that I had ascended a few hours earlier.  About three miles into the return trip I heard–and felt–a telltale “thump thump” sound from outside the car.  Fearing the worst I got out of the car and, sure enough, the right front tire was flat as a pancake.  Here I was in the middle of nowhere, driving a compact car–that means no true spare tire, just a [expletive deleted] donut temporary spare–on a steep road with a rotten little jack that warns that it should “only be used on a flat, paved surface.”  Perhaps I should pick the car up, I recall thinking, and carry it the eight-odd miles to the nearest flat, paved surface.  Jacking the car up, removing the flat and putting on the spare was a very difficult ordeal because I was on a steep, rocky surface.  The car nearly pitched off the jack at least a half a dozen times before I finally completed the process…and then I faced a long trip on the same road that produced the flat in the first place on a donut spare.

Long story comparatively short, I made it down in one piece, ultimately found a garage in the tiny town of Mt. Storm, had the tire patched for $6 (fortunately the hole was in the tread, not the sidewall), called myself damned lucky to have escaped with a few scrapes and only a few lost hours, and made my way back to Canaan.

So, for those of you wondering whether flat tires–particularly flat tires on cars unequipped with adequate spares or jacks–are a good idea, my considered response is:  no.  No, they are not.  I had already determined this the last time I had a flat tire while driving a compact car in the middle of nowhere (roughly 10 miles east of Florence, Oregon–a real horror story which I will not relate here in the interest of relative brevity and my own mental health) a couple of years ago, but my West Virginia experience reinforced my belief that flat tires are not recommended.

Blackwater Canyon from Pendleton Point, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

The only photography I undertook the rest of the day was to shoot Blackwater Canyon from Pendleton Point at sunset.

Blackwater Canyon Sunset, Pendleton Point, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

I had two more full days and a third morning left on the ground in West Virginia and I was determined to make the most of it.  As insane as it sounds in light of my Thursday morning experience, this was to include one more trip up to Bear Rocks.  It’s not as crazy as it sounds, really.  (Seriously.)  I’ll provide the story, and a few more images, in the third and final installment of this series.