The Things We See — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/40
Is that an oversized chocolate bunny drifting into the right of the frame? Or is it just the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man all dressed up for Halloween? Of course it could be just a cloud. But what’s the fun in taking things so literal?
It’s funny what we see, and what we don’t see. As I was making this shot I was going through my usual mental checks: capture cool cumulus clouds; get the bend in the estuary to create movement; and finally, to get the wind blown marsh grass in the foreground. Pretty technical, pretty straightforward. Rote process aside it wasn’t until I was reviewing my shots in post processing that I took note of what is clearly a bunny shaped cloud momma cutting across the sky to herd her little bunny-cloud clan. I may not have the greatest imagination, but this what my mind has gone and done.
I’d like to give a special shout-out to the lunar cycle for allowing this to time up with a fortuitous low tide. The reduced water table gave me access to a low spot on the marsh that is otherwise submerged. That said walking around marsh muck in flip-flops isn’t exactly a good time, but remember, whatever it takes to get the shot!
Under normal circumstances my own personal photographer’s modus operandi brings me to a set location of my choosing, and this decision is most always made before I even step out the front door. Yesterday afternoon, as I was jogging the park and watching the late day clouds fade as they are wont to do, I figured shooting wasn’t going to happen last night. No big deal. Another free summer night. And yet, about an hour before sunset as I was enjoying a doppio at the local Fauxbucks, I spied with my little eyes promising cloud formations building to the south and west. Sweet! I am in luck. And to those who saw me peaking out the inch of open window underneath the blinds, I apologize for my strangeness.
Before I was even back to my house to collect my gear, my heart and mind was set on Stafford Forge. It had been quite some time since I had shot there, and with little to no wind it seemed a good choice; glassy water does make for unparalleled mirrored reflections, after all. Alas as I was cruising down the parkway, windows down and NPR blasting—I know, I really know how to party—I noticed lots of activity at the Forge. Numerous cars and some Park Rangers. Ever the anti-socialite, I thought, welp, so much for that, onto Great Bay Boulevard.
All of this is just a long way to say, while I most never balk and change up on locations, last night I was sure glad I did. To hell with my M.O.! A most serendipitous unplanned deviation brought me to this spot. With this light. Under the shelter of some of the most glorious high pressure and comfortable temperatures you can imagine. For us folks along the NJ coast, better weather almost never comes our way. Everything about last night was perfection—even if my targeted spot wasn’t.
Take Your Place Amongst the Revelers — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Last night’s sunset was well attended—emphasis on well. Unsurprising in hindsight, on a gorgeous mid-Summer Saturday night, Surf City’s little Sunset Park must have drawn in some 40-plus revelers to capture the final few moments of the Earth’s daily rotation away from the Sun. It was great to see such enthusiasm from the populace.
Of course seeing and shooting are two different things, and it didn’t take long for me to realize I had chosen my final destination poorly. You see as the human headcount in any one spot increases, the ability to carve out a good, unobstructed view with a wide angle lens rears its limitations quickly. Unable to position myself with a more northward facing angle, where the most interesting clouds—both in shape and color—were marking the sky, I was left with no choice but to look out due west. Essentially recreating this shot from May 2014. Even with my little spot carved out I still had a few visitors get close enough for a hand or foot to sneak its way into my frame. Though I can hardly blame them: before I had gotten into photography I had no appreciation for just how wide a shot really can be.
At the end of the day I was able to come away with a serviceable enough photo. I just wish I didn’t feel at odds with myself; on the one hand bummed that I couldn’t hunt for an ideal exposure like I usually do, and on the other hand self-conscious about feeling like my presence is just getting in everybody else’s way. Folks enjoying their vacation time looking to get a good cellphone shot don’t want to have to deal with tripod laden space hogs such as myself.
Those Summer Nights — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Not a bad way to wrap a weekend, eh? Summer’s in full swing here in southern Ocean County—revelers abound, commerce is pumping, and the traffic? Well it’s been something . . . Good for business and that’s what counts!
For those keeping score at home my sunset light chasing has been seriously lacking. Sure, Summer’s typically a down season for my wide angle work, giving way to more time spent with my macro lens and some good old fashion handheld shooting. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not keen on hunting one down when conditions are right. Last night offered the perfect combination of temperature, sea breeze, and cloud deck. All the ingredients for a good time on the salt marsh. With my mind in the tank for the better part of the week the fresh air was just what the doctor ordered, and fortunately my trusted camera was happy to oblige. Hands down my best sunset endeavor since I hunted down this all-timer back in late May. Keep the A+ clouds and color coming, please.
A Sign of the Times — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.8 sec
I’ve been sitting on these two photos for days; sulking in my own prison, shackled by the nonsense sentencing of my own perfectionist imposition. In some kind of martyred protest for the way events unfolded this past Tuesday, June 23rd. In other words acting like a petulant child.
I’ll spare the minutia but Tuesday started off all sorts of wrong thanks to an internet connectivity outage that interrupted much of coastal New Jersey for the better part of a day. A nightmare for Facebookers everywhere. This laid waste to my plans and sent me into the office on a day I was prepared to work from home. Just as importantly on a day I was prepared to shoot. Was prepared being the operative words here. You see, the best thunderstorm threat of 2015 thus far was becoming quite likely 24 hours out, and that the weather event would coincide with the golden and twilight hours. All the ingredients, man.
Connectivity issues be damned I put on my big boy pants, packed my things, and went to work. Accepting fate through self-deprecating laughter it was at this time I struck storm chasing from the day’s to-do’s and instead shifted focus to my deliverables. Yadda, yadda, yadda a day’s work and hit fast forward to leaving the office: the line of storms was about 30 miles to my south and west, moving due east at roughly 45 MPH. Could it be true? A chance for a well-timed rendezvous? Based on RadarScope positioning, I estimated the clock would afford enough time to get to my house to grab my gear. Everything looked great until I hit the light at County Road 539 and NJ-70 (~23minutes from my house); the already impressive line was expanding from the middle out into a bonafide bow segment driving across Salem, Gloucester, Burlington, and into Ocean and Atlantic Counties at an accelerated rate. By the time I made it to NJ-72 and turned eastward, the veil of black dominating my rearview said it all: getting to Dock Road for photos in time for the storm was simply out of the question. At this point it was simply get home, Greg.
Insert a rain, wind, and light show and you have what was a 15 minute raucous ride out at my house. Immediately afterwards text from friends and look to the west let me in on a little secret: the sun was going to get under these impressive cloud formations and roving lightning strikes just in time for sunset. Everything was in play—lightning, rainbows, a palette of intense color, dogs and cats living together? Without a second thought I loaded the car and made for Dock Road.
Posted up at my usual spot the scene was something. Storm clouds rolling, strong wind shipping, thunder clapping mere seconds after spokes of lightning splayed across the sky, pouring rain, and one rapidly developing sunset. Car bound thanks to rain and lightning I was missing out. If I could have kept my lenses dry I would have said to hell with the lightning and risked it, but the rain was too strong to get more than one clear shot off at any one time. At this point I was lamenting (re: complaining) to Twitter that I was 5 miles too far to the south. A few minutes into my pity party the rapidly intensifying light at my back (to the west) mixed with falling rain put me on instant rainbow alert. Seconds later there it was: bold and beautiful straddling Dock Road in full double rainbow regalia. Thunder was booming, lightning was cracking, the sun was shining, and this rainbow was saying hey, what’s up armchair photographer man? It was glorious.
It was then my mind downshifted into the hell with everything mode. I grabbed my tripod and set it up in the middle of a kaleidoscopic Dock Road. I fixed my camera, pressed the shutter, and proceeded to make a huge mistake. After the first shutter press I realized I didn’t have my two second timer enabled—I always use this to prevent any camera shake as the shutter is depressed and the mirror flips. Except this time it screwed me. Royally. I quickly enabled the timer, pressed said shutter, and immediately witnessed one very bad ass lightning strike sprawl throughout the sky, originating from dead smack in the middle of the rainbow. As the two second wait for eternity was up, the lightning was gone and the picture was taken. With nothing but the rainbow you see above. I blew my chance. I made a mistake and it was all www.nooooooooooooooo.com from there. Three and a half years into photography and I fold like a tent in the midst the best lighting/environment/sky conditions I’ve yet to encounter. Maybe next time I won’t choke so hard. Whenever that is.
Mid-frenzy and flanked by powerful light during Sunday morning’s sunrise shoot I broke rank, disengaged camera from tripod, and went handheld to make some more spontaneous frames of my immediate surroundings. Rich golden light was pouring in from the northeast, and I wanted more than anything to capture the vibrant strength of the sun’s first light. Stronger than usual, just as I was experiencing it.
The signs seen here sit right at my go-to Dock Road photo spot. They always draw my attention—especially the quirky homemade TURTLE X-ING sign. It gets serious points for character, and the turtles need our vigilance! Since I’m almost always at the spot for sunset, the change in light source direction illuminated the signs in a way I just don’t get to see on the regular. Enchanted, I kept creeping closer and closer and closer with my wide angle lens—bringing the scene tighter and tight together.
I’m pleased with this vertical orientation photograph. I’m particularly pleased with the signage pointing off to all the sunrise light drama happening to the northeast (left) side of the photograph.
This photograph is from this past Saturday night—13 June—and kicked off what turned into a great 24 hours of shooting. A span that even included a sunrise! This photograph is also a reminder that your shooting plans—and, uh, success, failure, etc.—can change on a dime. I was in total laid back cruise mode on Saturday with no plans to shoot whatsoever. The thought never even crossed my mind. For me it’s a none too common experience to forgo even the slightest consideration for shooting in my agenda; it’s just that sometimes in summer, with sunset happening so late, it’s best to just let it go.
This is all just a long way of saying that with one quick glance out the window revealing a variably cloudy sky full of potential, even the most ardent of planners can yield to spontaneity. One quick dash about the house to gather my things and I was off to Dock Road. I arrived at my usual spot and immediately noted a characteristic unique to this sky. With a well positioned low-level cloud deck about the westward horizon, the light was being direct such that all the coloration happened in the north-northwest direction. To explain this better, I used nearly the same position here—in a photograph taken just after sunset—that I used to photograph a sunrise a mere 9 hours later. Pretty neat.
In Morning — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Wake up for sunrise, they said. It’ll be worth it, they said. Who cares if you’re tired? They said. Well score one for the they said internet meme crowd.
I’ve been on a photo making tear these past 24 hours; racking up just over 300 exposures between my iPhone and DSLR. I’ve been shutter pressing, Instagram square formatting, Snapchat story making, Periscope broadcasting content creating machine—a legend in my own mind—or something like that.
Mother Nature brought the goods—a unique northwest facing blue hour last night that I’ll be sure to post in all the usual places over the next few days, as well as some sights from the Seaside Heights boardwalk; finally ending with the sunrise photograph that you see above, taken just after 5:30 this morning. Summer’s in full swing, New Jersey, and I could not be happier.
As far as this shot goes, it just so happened that after returning from Seaside and waking in a friend’s basement at 4:30 a.m. that the perfect confluence of timing brought me to Dock Road and to this sunrise. I’m not a morning person. This is well documented. But as I was driving home during the wee hours of the morning—just as first light was marking the sky in an ominous kind of deep purple—I knew the camera work would be worth my time. Besides, I could always nap it out after. And that’s exactly what I did.
Dock Road was perfect this morning. I spent a good hour roadside taking in the sights, the sounds, and the bugs. But even those blasted no-see-ums couldn’t cramp my style. It was Greg Molyneux’s very own version of Sunrise Earth out there. And while I can’t say when my next sunrise will be, I’m sure glad serendipity worked out in my favor this time around.
Now if you’ll excuse I’m off to spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach.
The Great Gig in the Sky — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5
One minute your sitting in the back of a four-door Jeep groovin’ on some tunes en route to the Chicken of the Egg to chow down on some wings, and the next minute your banging an emergency left somewhere in Spray Beach to make a mad dash to the beach for world class cloud ignition happening directly overhead. We had but minutes.
I started by haphazardly kicking my flip-flops mid-sprint in the general direction of where street meets beach; camera in right hand, tripod in left. Awestruck and drunk on light, I reflexively and moronically tossed my tripod aside right into the sand and began checking camera settings. Heart thumping, adrenal glands were quick to inform me this color—quite possibly the best I’ve ever seen—wasn’t long for this world. After a few deep breaths and focus regained, I collected myself and my tripod and dusted out the sand as best I could understanding I was effectively out of time.
Once the tripod joints where workable I made a few pretty great shots from my first spot—right along the berm where dune fence marks the walkway. You can see an Instagram of that here. After about 5 minutes making shots I made for the beach itself. Jon Carr was already down there, busy making his own shots with his lovely wife taking in the wonder and the hijinks. By this point the ocean was reflecting the most potent yellow-orange light I’ve been fortunate enough to see. It was in a word otherwordly.
After scurrying down to join them, and as I was catching my breath, a quick glance northward along the beach revealed the secret; exposed jetty rock, perfectly arranged just waiting to be photographed. Unable to leave my muse in wait, I was off on a 300 yard sprint up the beach with Jon yelling encouragingly in the backround, “you can make it!” Here’s where the problems could have undermined it all: first a happy couple were appropriately noting the humor in a guy sprinting up the beach with a camera mounted tripod being wielded more like Gandalf’s staff in battle. The first dozen or so yards were great until my calf muscle strain decided to rear its ugly head; knotted up I bit the pain and kept jogging to these jetty rock. Throwing caution and my camera’s welfare to the wind, there was no way I was missing this chance.
My excitement subsumed the pain, and with a few more deep hand stabilizing breaths, I dug my heels and the tripod in the wet sand, composed my frame, and made what is now my favorite landscape photograph to date. And where I almost always post bracketed photographs for my landscapes—consisting of usually 7 exposures—I only needed one here. The light was so beautifully balanced there was no need to go further and merge it with the six other photographs, each exposed one stop apart from the other.
