Look Down On It — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I never thought pictures would happen yesterday. With Zombie Outbreak Build Day as the clear priority I put little thought into being able to do both. But thanks to fortuitous timing, some promising clouds, and the good sense (all luck) to actually pack my camera gear, I was able to travel direct from the Joseph A. Citta Scout Reservation—home to this weekend’s haunt—to my regular Dock Road stomping grounds. I had little time or desire to go elsewhere. In spite of feeling my age thanks to a good day of hard work, a rare moment of ambition settled upon me, prying me away from the Sirens’ call of a hot shower and comfortable couch. Not sure what was happening, pictures it was!
Arriving with the sun nearly down my shot choices were limited. And so necessity mandate I line up where I had done many times before. Only this time I threw in a few compositional wrinkles: first, though less rare than what comes next, I extended the tripod to full height—typically being a low to the ground shooter; second I framed up a shot with the lower 2/3 occupying the lion-share of the frame, leaving the upper 1/3 for the sky alone. For those more familiar with my landscape work you’ll usually see no less than 1/2 the image being sky. None of this is to say I don’t appreciate the ratio of last night’s shot, it’s just that I’m not very good at it. I feel the same about vertically oriented photographs. Whereas my buddy and fellow south Jersey landscape photographer, Ben Wurst, excels in these areas.
That’s all just a bunch of words to say that while peaking outside ye olde comfort zone yesterday, I managed to produce a solid result. The elevated 2/3 angle brings a perspective to the marsh I’ve struggled to extract. This vantage allows the viewer to better understand the depth and interconnectedness that endear New Jersey’s marshes to many—humans and birds alike.
And finally a note about this website: this marks post number 200 since launch in January 2014. Woohoo! Obligatory round number dance.
A Toast to Autumn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
This evening’s session along the marshes of Dock Road was a real treat. Cool yet comfortable temperatures made for ideal viewing of what was a perfect combination of rich golden light and piercingly clear autumn air. My vision seemed ten times better than usual the air was so pure. Everything was glowing. With the rich light pouring in and the sun setting fast, I popped the tripod into position and began making brackets. Fast forward another 40 minutes of shooting and a trip home to the computer only to realize that my first batch of bracketed exposures would wind up being the one. It’s always something when that winds up being the case.
Compositionally I wanted to play off the main tidal pool and the cloud reflection therein. Tucking the near end of the pool off the edge to the bottom left allows the eye to enter the photo to then move up the clouds and over to the setting sun, finishing with the popcorn clouds in the sky. It’s good to have movement.
Shooting tonight was tons of fun; would do it again. A strong reminder of why it’s worth getting out there and doing this. If nothing else it brings you closer to nature.
Having returned from vacation just yesterday I was left on the outside looking in as days of rain, wind, and tidal surge battered New Jersey beaches and intracoastal ways. Even though our area was spared the brunt of Joaquin thanks to just missing a capture from an upper level low spinning over the southeastern United States, my home town and neighboring beaches and waterways had front row seating to extended onshore flow that wrought moderate tidal flooding and a deluge of rain.
Sitting in Florida, a mere few hundred miles from the center of Joaquin’s cyclogenesis, I was crossing my fingers model run to model run as spaghetti plots meandered all over the eastern seaboard; many sending landfall to areas directly affected by Superstorm Sandy. Ultimately, after laying a beating on the Bahamas this turned into a fish storm and began its northeast march toward Bermuda and out to sea. But with a powerful blocking high pressure locked in around Maine and the low pressure of the storm off the coast of Florida, Mother Nature set up the physical mechanics of a pitching machine enabling a 72-96 hour period of onshore flow to fire streams of moisture and wind at much of the east coast; bringing devastating rain to South Carolina and beach erosion to many coastal areas. With the abrupt left hook of Sandy still fresh in all our minds, this was a little too close for comfort.
Pictured above is my photograph of tonight’s sunset still showing off the tidal remains of all that water that was pushed up toward the coast thanks to that pitching machine effect. Despite being days after peak flooding you can get a sense of just how long it takes water to recede safely back whence it came.
Back Home in the Comfort Zone — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
First off I hope at least one intrepid New Jersey photographer was out making time lapse and/or long exposure photographs considering the most excellent cloudage we had on deck today. All day. Short on intervalometers and neutral density filters I did neither. But I did get out there to at least make this one photo—my first in a while.
Having just returned from a 9-day left coast swing today marks my lone day in Manahawkin before I pivot to a weeklong jaunt at Walt Disney World. I spent the past week plus in California sans camera (not counting the cellphone, of course) so I wanted to get in one session of shooting in my old stomping grounds before I takeoff once again. Feeling good among the creature comforts of home it seemed only fitting that I make for Dock Road to fire off my first frames in weeks. For a creature of habit like myself I can’t express enough how much familiarity is important to me. There’s only so much external stimuli I can take before I must retreat to the physical and mental comfort zones that ease and normalize my body and mind.
I look forward to more photo sessions upon my return. Be well.
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!
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.
Litter Knows No Bounds — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
Travel anywhere in this world and you won’t have to look hard for the litter to find you. Not that I know this from experience, but so I’ve been told—I’m not really one for wanderlust. This is especially true for those of us living along the coast where our waterways turn into a de facto mass transit system for our discarded interests. Our refuse gets around easier than we do. I’m sure somewhere on the antarctic ice sheets emperor penguins are bee-bopping next to a transient piece of plastic. I just hope they’re not choking on it.
As I was traipsing about Dock Road this past Sunday, basking in some serious golden hour light pouring over the salt marsh, I began popping off some handheld shots that differ from my more typical tripod only wide angle compositions. The twisted guardrail you see barrel rolling across the frame has caught my eye for years, but I’ve never put it to any kind of compositional use. It wasn’t until I was kneeling to frame up this shot I noticed the trash. For a moment I thought about removing the water bottle from the frame in order to capture a more pristine “natural” shot, but then thought, nah, I’m gonna keep this piece of garbage in my shot. Maybe I had a temporary moment of journalistic integrity and wanted to capture the shot as it really was? Who knows?
In the interest of full disclosure I have never set the world on fire as some kind of environmentalist/conservationist, though my desire to protect our Spaceship Earth has grown stronger with age. I have to give credit to my good buddy Ben Wurst for setting a fine example for myself and the rest of our cohort to follow. He has certainly opened my eyes and caused me to think differently. Though I get a big fat ‘F’ for not picking up this here water bottle to bring it to its rightful place in the bottom of my recycle bin. I am ashamed.
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.
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.
