Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: frozen

  • These are the times that revive men’s souls

    Intense pastels color the undulating clouds in this spectacular HDR sunset photograph over a frozen Barnegat Bay.
    These are the times that revive men’s souls — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Or maybe it’s just the polar infused westerlies smacking me in the face doing the reviving?

    It was cold tonight. Anyone stuck in the Mid-Atlantic to Northeast knows this—and has for sometime if you discount yesterday’s false spring. But when it produces this kind of light the biting cold can just keep on riding that polar express right over my head (and in the face).

    Come 4 p.m. a fairly unusual cloud pattern began setting up across the sky, funneling a unique set of undulating clouds from the southwest horizon. Earnestly marching from a single point of origin, a quick visual scan showed just how this active air was roiling and distorting the clouds with the polar jet’s turbulence rendering a captivating visual result. It was clear in an instant this cloudage coupled with the reinforcing shot of arctic air was cooking up a recipe of near guaranteed sunset success. And when that happens, it doesn’t matter how cold it is—the blood starts pumping, the pulse starts to quicken and the time dilation exacerbates as the excitement of a total payoff washes over you.

    Nights like tonight are precisely why I do this.

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  • Waiting on the Weather

    During a break in the weather clouds part just before sunset coloring the clouds purple and pink in this HDR photograph of the marshes of Cedar Run Dock Road.
    Waiting on the Weather — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Norlun Trough, I summon thee. And your arctic front. And its squall line.

    Bring all your snow, clouds blazing.

    A little before 4:00 p.m. Manahawkin was facing its first real snow shower of the day. The confluence of a clipper system from the north; an arctic front complete with a serious squall line to the west that will parlay to a coastal transfer, with all signs pointing to an inverted trough (that’s that Norlun thing) setting up somewhere over coastal New Jersey. As a weenietastic snow fan teased and tested by a tedious winter this leaves me twitching but cautiously optimistic.

    I figured as I was homebound waiting for snow all day, that chasing light and making photographs was not in the cards. We had been entrenched in a total cloud deck all day with little reason to think there’d be any kind of break. But sure enough 4:30 p.m. showed up and brought the sun with it. Pumped, I scrambled about the house cartoon style where your legs move for 5 seconds before you actually go anywhere. I packed my things, didn’t break anything and made for Dock Road.

    When I pulled up to my usual spot it was clear my standard sunset thing wasn’t going to play. To the southwest the clouds were returning so that kind of shot was a no go. Fortunately pink clouds were rolling on the northeast side. Here I crouched and made the winter marsh scene above.

    Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.

  • You have no power here

    An icy handrail makes for an interesting macro shot with the setting sun over the bay off in the distance left of a sharp focused icicle.
    You have no power here — 100mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250

    I’ve been spending much more time shooting on Long Beach Island of late. It’s the ice in particular that has brought me there. There’s just something to that juxtaposition of Winter’s grip imposing its will on Summer’s paradise.

    Yesterday brought me to Surf City, Harvey Cedars and Barnegat Light. And while I did most of my shooting with my cellphone, I did manage to train my macro lens on this icy railing staring straight into the setting sun. In my own head, the primary icicle reminds of my love of maps that began as wee lad. All I see is the penninsula of Cape May County, New Jersey jutting southward, driving Delaware Bay and the Atlantic Ocean apart.

    A tip of the old cap to Jon Carr for calling out the railing. Were it not for his instance I most certainly would not have bothered. You can see his interpretation here.

  • Lamentations Fall Before the Light

    A stunning HDR photograph glistening with pink pastels dancing off the icy stillness of Barnegat Bay as seen from Harvey Cedars Sunset Point.
    Lamentations Fall Before the Light — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    And to think that for even a second I considered not going out to shoot on account of ominous clouds rolling in from the southwest.

    I’d like to think I take some solid landscape photographs—with sunsets obviously being my thing. But for all my merit, I still don’t think I captured the righteousness of this evening’s sunset. Proof I still have much to learn before I ever think I’ve mastered this craft. The glow that set fire to the sky quickened my heart and delighted my senses. Leaving me wearing little more than a child’s uncontainable grin. If not the best, this easily finds a space comfortably in my personal top five. This is the kind of unspoken light that fuels the soul.

    There were plenty other revelers taking in Nature’s work at Harvey Cedars Sunset Park this evening. Though I fear many folks bounced too early, missing the awe that came before us. As I was running around the park, trying to find my desired angle, I could feel something special unfolding. A pink glow was creeping from the horizon and over the next several minutes the color drove eastward, igniting overhead. Viewfinder ablaze, I quickly texted my buddy—also shooting at the park—remarking just how lucky we were. In there interest of full disclosure there may or may not been a few enthusiastic expletives tossed in for good measure.

    All I know is that I am fired up. Thank you Mother Nature for being as unpredictable as you are great.

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  • Great Expectations

    After Winter Storm Juno skirted the Jersey shore sparing New Jersey from historic snow, the clouds break revealing a sublime winter sunset on the frozen marsh along Cedar Run Dock Road in this HDR photograph.
    Great Expectations — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I am a snow lover.

    It is a tough day for snow lovers.

    When words like HECS start getting tossed around, and all area mets—up to and including the National Weather Service—go all in on what seems to be a sure fire Miller B transfer event, snow fiends like myself start going into overdrive. Visions of 2–3 inch an hour snow rates, powdery drifts and canyon banks lining neighborhood streets dance in our head. If you love weather—intense weather—few things get the blood pumping quite like Mother Nature standing at the doorstep.

    And yet weather is going to weather. As inevitable as this storm once seemed, a late capture by an upper level low allowed this beast of a coastal to slip just far enough east to spare New Jersey from real substantial impact. In its wake? A running spectrum of emotion across the residents of New Jersey, and many disappointed forecasters taking a beating in the court of public opinion. Predicting the weather is hard—very hard, and these folks are doing the best they can trying to predetermine outcomes in absence of a full dataset and in the presence of variability. By its very nature it is a thankless task, and I hope they just keep doing what they’re doing and continue to roll in favor of calling the next sure thing—even if it might not be.

    In the meantime, I’m going to keep waiting patiently for my first chance to finally photograph a big snow storm. Oh, and how about that sunset tonight? Check out how just how deep the color was in this straight out of camera, cellphone shot I uploaded to Instagram sans filter.

  • Hey, Guy-wire

    An HDR blue hour photograph of a stony bayshore mixed with thin sea ice in the foreground and angle guy-wires in the mid ground plunging into the frozen bay.
    Hey, Guy-wire — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    A quick run to Google told me these here cables operate under the more official moniker of guy-wires. Prior to this revelatory moment these were always just the cables used to make the Star Wars blaster sound first made famous when Han shot first. Not to mentions serving as common decor for the New Jersey Turnpike—functional as they may be.

    By tonight it all came full-circle with these guy-wires making it into my photograph. I struggled this evening composing a shot that didn’t bore me. Moving from one spot to the next I took a bunch of test shots to go with some purposefully framed exposures from varying spots down on the Cedar Run Dock Road boat ramp. Everything was just kind of meh and I didn’t want to resort to a fall back scene. On most days I am pretty lucky and can settle into a frame almost instantly. But you know what? It’s good to struggle.

    And so I went with the wires and the seawall. I wanted some elements of the human imprint in this not-so-pure landscape. Pulling together the connectedness of our human work—for better or for worse—with nature’s work. We would do well to continuously challenge ourselves to find ever-improving ways to iterate ourselves to a more harmonious future. OK, we can stop holding hands now.

  • A frozen bay belies the weather

    An HDR sunset photograph taken from Harvey Cedars Sunset Part of a fully frozen Barnegat Bay. Unique ice patterns and strewn jetty rock mark the picture's foreground.
    A frozen bay belies the weather — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    We’re wrapping up what’s easily been the coldest stretch of weather we’ve felt over the 2014–2015 Winter—and the New Jersey Intracoastal Waterway has the frozen bays to prove it. Knowing the temperatures would be moderating as soon as tomorrow (can you believe it’s going to rain after this bitter cold week!?), I wanted to get over to Harvey Cedars Sunset Park to capture the not-so-common sight of an ice entombed Barnegat Bay. While the sunset color didn’t explode this afternoon, the sights I was treated to out on the point made enduring an hour of uninterrupted cold completely worth it. My mood soared immediately upon arrival; my body and mind both were in need of this photographic ice world therapy session.

    For much of my time at this ephemeral Fortress of Solitude I was transfixed by the undulating, serpentine patterns of ice locked motionless from the freeze. I’m amazed at the transformation ice can bring to a summertime haven of warmth and water that I know so well. It’s nature’s way of teaching the duality of life—as well as its impermanence. And yet all I can think of is Yogi Berra opining, “you can observe a lot by watching.”

    Enjoy the scene now as it will be gone tomorrow.

  • Out where we cannot be

    Out where we cannot be

    A dark sepia HDR photograph of a frozen wetland of the Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area taken just before sunset
    Out where we cannot be — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I got wet today folks. That’s right, I did what we shan’t do and fell through the ice. Levy any and all criticisms here, and yes I was immediately reminded of what we all learned from our parents as children. Now, while I was very near to shore and hardly in peril, the ordeal was still a bit of a stunner. Between the freezing temperatures as my right leg plunge down to the knee or my discarded camera and tripod, my immediate attention was to my camera, lens, and their collective well being. Frost bite be damned, I’ve dropped this pair once before and was having not so great flashbacks—I didn’t have time to be fretting over a wet foot. As it turns out, the camera and lens seem fine despite the fixed lens hood acting as something of a snow plow. But I digress.

    Fractured ice aside, I had a blast shooting with Ben Wurst of Reclaimed today. We took advantage (mostly) of the unusually cold temperatures and ventured out on foot over wetlands we’d otherwise never have access to. While we were clouded out at the key moment rendering the idyllic sunset palette a bit stale, the array of clouds made for an interesting composition; made all the more dramatic with the dark sepia treatment. This is a composite of seven exposures to extract the great dynamic range from the scene.

    With any luck if the cold stays, I can avoid falling in and successfully return to this spot for a more winter stunning sky.

  • Winter has its ways

    Winter has its ways

    A wide angle HDR photograph of frozen bays and a magnificent sunset at Antoinetta's Restaurant on Cedar Run Dock Road.
    Winter has its ways — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 3 Bracketed Exposures

    I’ve been privy to a spate of spectacular sunsets of late. While winter typically brings the goods, over the past seven weeks I’ve had this, this, and this happen; each better than the next. You could say the first rule to making good pictures is being there, and nothing has proven more true.

    Get out there and freeze your butt off. It’s worth it.

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