Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: cedar run dock road

Cedar Run Dock Road photography made by Greg Molyneux

They Came From Behind
They Came From Behind — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 2.5 sec
Gold Five to Red leader, lost Tiree, lost Dutch.
I copy, Gold Leader.
They came from… behind!
Now that the titular Star Wars reference is out of the way, I’d like to throw it back to last Monday, July 25, 2016, when some serious thunderstorms had us dead to rights in southern Ocean County. After making my first capture on the western most end of Cedar Run Dock Road (where the marsh opens up from the woods), Jon and I made our way to the east most point of the marsh. Posted up at the boat ramp, we aimed our lenses westward toward Antoinetta’s restaurant and dug in to watch the rapidly approaching storms. Meanwhile in my head a story was set in motion: eager diners going about the machinations of a pleasant dining experience full of fine meals and good conversation before some astute weather observer inside took a westward glance out the many windows to notice the beast barreling in from the west. At which point all attention would divert from the chicken parmesan and risotto to impending doom. One customer would lament a power outage while in the same breath some haughty sir insistent on keeping his head firmly entrenched in the sand would bombastically declare ‘there’s no way that’s going to hit us!’ It is, after all, your world and we’re just living in it.
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July 31, 2016
Weather Moves
Weather Moves — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4
Monday, July 25, 2016, saw severe thunderstorms batter much of the mid-Atlantic; the early morning hours featured the first round, a natural alarm clock potent in its own right, only to be outdone by the main event during the afternoon and evening hours. The widespread storm outbreak managed to hold together all the way to the New Jersey coast. The perfect storm of high CAPE values, substantial sheer, diurnal heating, and sky high dew points and temperatures fostered a caustic atmosphere for powerful storm development and continuation of the line for hundreds of miles.
Out on Cedar Run Dock Road, Weather NJ’s JC and I did our best to document the essence of the storm. While I didn’t pull down any good lightning shots—they continue to elude me—I did manage to make a few photographs that convey the anger and intensity of the sky and the subsequent winds that came with it. Even in the shot above, which was made a good 15 minutes before the severe warned storm hit, you get a sense for the ferocious nature of the ever changing cloud deck. Converging air masses were seemingly ripping the sky apart. The marsh betrays the wind intensity that would be otherwise invisible to a photograph. Even at a 1/4 second shutter speed, you can clearly see the foreground marsh grass folding like a tent. At this point I would guess winds were in the 30 MPH range. (With peak storm nearly doubling that speed.)
On a personal level the pressure of the moment becomes a lot to deal with. You know you’re under the gun. You know strong winds and high voltage is fast approaching. You know wind driven rain will soon be upon you rendering a camera effectively useless thanks to soaked lenses. Rolling thunder in the distance coupled with lightning strikes on the horizon gets the heart rate up, and it’s a real struggle against nature and your best instinct to remain calm and patient enough to make good shots. It’s a far cry from the relaxed pace of a predictable, slow moving sunset that’s for sure. Of course, it’s this adrenaline surge that’s a big part of the fun.
In the meantime I have one or two other photos to post from Monday, and JC went live on the Weather NJ Facebook page and produced the following video (approximately 36,000 views at the time of this posting!) documenting deteriorating conditions peak storm. Check it out.
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July 27, 2016
Flip Side
Flip Side — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Baby, I’m a marsh man. I’m a marsh man, baby. This summer has shown off some scintillating moments out on the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh. I haven’t been there to capture all of them, but damn, I’ve managed to make the most of a quite a few—I’m not just talking photographs here, either. An idyllic amalgam of mild temperatures, a steady sea breeze wafting with it the unmistakable salt air that kisses your olfactory just so. Ahhhh… Then there’s the seabirds singing, the terrapin turtles crossing, and of course, the light show nature puts on as day transitions into night, painting cotton candy clouds with the unmistakable brushstrokes from the masterful hands of the ultimate artist. It’s pretty much perfect, you guys.
Wednesday, July 20, just so happened to be one of those nights. It all came together. Yeah, the green heads were there doing their green head thing, too, but for whatever reason they seem so spare me the worst of their attention. I tell ya, I can’t even attract a fly. Anyway, instead of my usual southwest post-up along the roadside, I hopped over the north side guardrail, into the rock bed, and got low for a north-by-northwest exposure. Having done this sunset things a few times now, I have a good sense when the flip side from the conventional sunset orientation will light up with plenty of pastel drama. This is great, too, as it affords me the opportunity to use the oxbow lake feature that forms as the estuary meanders around the marsh section you see featured in the middle ground. Couple this with a foreground of marsh grasses and you invite the viewer to come on in to a sublime summer sunset scene.
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July 22, 2016
When I Think of Summer
When I Think of Summer — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I’m on record as being firmly in the sunsets are better in winter camp. And while I’m not backing down from that claim, I cannot deny that when all the pieces come together for a summer sunset the results are damn near impossible to beat. After all, one thing you will not get here in the mid-Atlantic come winter time is lush green marsh grass to compliment a sublime sunset—no matter how vivid the sky lights up. The best you can hope for is some quality ice flows, or some other appealing foreground to mask the unmistakable look of the great browning.
Last night I was hemming and hawing about whether to shoot; I’m sure glad the manifestation of motivation won out. What initially looked like a decent to slightly above average sunset steadily ascended the sunset potential charts. Cirrus clouds built in across the sky, and some 20 minutes before sunset I knew I was standing at the doorstep of a good one. Come on in, nature was calling. Of course the green heads were calling to, but I did my best to avoid the sharp bite of our most fierce winged foe. A few well timed hand slaps went a long way, too. Sorry, not sorry, flies.
Before long the great sun disk dipped below the horizon and the pastels began to build. Pink and purple hues first began stretching from east to west steadily arcing over the sky; they were well met by orange and yellow hues pulsing to the west were only minutes before the sun went down. About 10 minutes after official sundown this colorful cascade merged in perfect harmony backed by azure blue skies. What a scene. My best sunset capture since May.
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July 6, 2016
Say Goodbye Don’t Follow
Say Goodbye Don’t Follow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Easily the best scene/lighting/sunset/awesomesauce combo since this and this happened back in early December 2015. Six months, folks. The good stuff doesn’t come around all too often; and that is precisely what makes this hobby worthwhile. The hunt. The chase. The busted failures en route to most welcomed and ofttimes unexpected successes. Landscape photography is a great, albeit fickle beast, you guys.
Ocean County, New Jersey was socked in rain for most of the day on Friday, but Mr. Weather NJ was on top of things. A look at the frontal passage on the water vapor loop let him know the break in the weather would more than likely time up well with sunset. Little did we know it’d be perfect. Serendipity, folks, it’s necessary when you’re photographing nature. We’ve gotta be there, sure; Mother Nature, however, has to bring the goods. That’s how it played out last night amidst the dank air of Cedar Run Dock Road. A multilayered cloud deck began to pull apart, and light poured through as we watched said clouds ignite into an array of pastel beauty. Combine that with the dying wind that brought a glass sheen to the surface of the waterway and you’re cooking with all the right ingredients for a real deal fist-pumper.
Chilling on scene with Jeff and Jon we spent a good 45 minutes in relative silence and maximum awe. The only thing that cut through the silence was a loan boater that came creeping through—no wake zones are important, thanks for going slow—leaving perfect wrinkles upon what was moments before pristinely flat water. The look of the subtle waves left in his wake was mesmerizing. Pink and purple prisms moving eastward as though a table cloth was most gently removed from a grand table with the steady hand of years of precision. Better yet was the jam the young dude on the center console had blasting over the marsh. Whatever that slow jam was, I dig it. In fact, we spent the better part of the night fireside at Ben’s trying to puzzle out the tune. Alas.
Within the quieted moments of sunset fulfillment I’m want to reflect on the ephemeral nature and never ending quest for the perfect sky. These moments come and go. Hold onto them as they arise, drop them as the leave. From there, with a smile on your face move on and work toward the next great moment. There’s a zen in all this infinitely worth seeking even when you’re kicking yourself during the next 10 busts.
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May 14, 2016
Max Relax
Max Relax — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Between the hour of 7:20 p.m–8:20 p.m. Cedar Run Dock Road was the unequivocal place to be for denizens of southern Ocean County. Conditions were perfect. I’m talking A+. 10 out of 10. Would do again. And folks, I’m not even talking about the sunset. It was one of those salt marsh nights you’re more than like to read about it a book. An evening that comes around maybe a handful of times per year. Room temperature conditions with zero wind, fully absent humidity; bugs nowhere to be found; crips, clear golden light pouring over the emerald green sedge grasses; with migratory birds making way with their evening meal. Pure perfection. Maximum relaxation achievement unlocked. That sunset? While beautiful and serene in its own right was little more than icing on the cake.
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May 9, 2016
Spring Marsh
Spring Marsh — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I made my way to Cedar Run Dock Road Sunday evening. While I wasn’t greeted with the exact sunset I was hoping for, I was welcomed with surefire signs of Spring. Ospreys perched on their platform; various seabirds I cannot identify—an ornithologist I am not—plucking out easy meals in the friendly confines of harbored tide pools; and sparks of green signaling the sedge grass’ return to life. A sight for sore eyes all after months enduring the Great Browning. From here on out conditions on the marsh should only get better. The sedge will grow and thrive, providing ample cover for productive marsh habitat simultaneously becoming more picturesque. Before long tall waving grasses colored in deep rich greens will fill our foreground and middle ground. Good times.
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April 26, 2016
Reframe
Reframe — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
This shot? Again? Really? If you’re thinking we’ve been here before you’re certainly right. In an effort to get comfortable shooting landscapes at a 35mm focal length, last night I returned—if not in triumph, then in repetition—to the familiar stomping grounds of Antoinetta’s Restaurant. The logic was twofold: 1) I was short on time leaving Dock Road as one of few sunset options, and 2) if you’re testing out the landscape prowess of a new lens it’s probably best to benchmark from a location and frame you’ve successfully photographed before. Having made some winners from this spot in the past, it made as much good sense as any.
Having made my first set of brackets fixed atop a tripod using manual focus, my initial thoughts of the 35mm wide angle in comparison to its 14mm ultra wide angle focal length counterpart are as follows: (For referenced I’ve included a similarly framed shot of Antoinetta’s photographed at 14mm below.)
- Staring down the 35mm makes you appreciate just how remarkably wide a 14mm focal length is—I’m roughly in the same spot as in the 14mm rendition below, yet you get the sense I’m substantially closer in the photo above. It’s a significantly tighter frame.
- With a tighter focal length, though still technically wide angle, the 35mm creates less distortion in the perspective. You’ll notice the restaurant (pictured top right) has straighter, less angled lines—particularly obvious along the roof. The perspective moving the eye toward the vanishing point is far less extreme than at 14mm.
- For a first pass the color and sharpness seem pretty good. At this point I am fully confident with dialing in manual focus on my 14mm. To such a degree I don’t even check to ensure I’m dialed in. I simply need to look at the position of the focus ring. It’s going to take some time with the 35mm, but through early testing the 35mm is proving plenty sharp.
Roughly three weeks in, and I am satisfied with my latest gear acquisition thus far. Still a work in progress and despite being another prime lens, the 35mm focal length is proving its versatility.
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Subtlety in Familiarity — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
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March 24, 2016
Machinations of a Pastel Sky
Machinations of a Pastel Sky — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
For southeast New Jersey peeps a vantage to the north and east had it going on at sunset last night. Bailing on the traditional west by southwest exposure at sundown—which had nothing doing but clear skies—I did a 180 and posted up on the north side of Dock Road. A whole 20 foot walk from my usual spot. Whew! From there I let nature do the work. Admittedly I had a bit of trouble centering on the turning waterway while keep some rouge elements of the guardrail out of the foreground. With a little fiddling of tripod height adjustments I made it work. After that it was all just pushing buttons.
Heading into yesterday’s shoot on what was 4 March, I had been in a bit of a dry spell. I hadn’t been out doing the photo thing since 16 February, when coincidentally another striking east facing sunset took shape. Landscape photography is full of peaks and valleys; hot streaks and dry spells. When you’re at the mercy of weather, timing, and real life responsibilities, opportunities to shoot come and go. As tedious as it may become at the tail end of an extended hiatus, the reward of a steady supply of great light makes the wait bearable. If nothing else photography is a lesson in control—insofar as we ain’t gonna have it.
In other photography news: I picked up a long overdue 35mm lens yesterday. Fifth Prime I’m calling it as it joins my 14mm, 40mm, 50mm, and 100mm as the fifth prime lens in my bag. I’m excited to see what new opportunities this long coveted piece of glass affords me. I’m even thinking of dabbling in some people photography with this at my side—it will be interesting to see if this actually materializes.
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March 5, 2016