Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: landscape

  • Here on the Mullica

    Wide angle HDR photograph of sunset over the Mullica River
    Here on the Mullica — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Reclaimer of wood and photographer of things, Ben Wurst hosted friends for textbook late summer chilling and grilling this weekend. Naturally, festivities were preceded by an hour long sunset shoot at a location that was for the rest of us in attendance, a brand new spot! We found ourselves tucked away under the Garden State Parkway in Port Republic, NJ, set alongside the southern shore of the Mullica River. Offering both east and west exposures this is a versatile spot that will no doubt take its place in the rotation.

    We were originally onsite so Ben could catch the full moonrise with his 400mm. Too bad it was obvious immediately that wasn’t going to happen; marine layer clouds were draped over the eastern horizon throwing a dripping wet blanket on those plans. The western side wasn’t much better with low level clouds riding the southerly flow. At this point I was milling about chatting with friends while Jackie remained steadfast to the photo plans, dutifully making shots. It was a good time, weather was perfect.

    A few minutes before sundown, what you could see of a mostly cloud obscured sun disk was swallowed by the marine layer haze. With that it was looking more and more likely that a cloud out was inevitable. Driving the impatience further were some feisty appetites and a nice spread waiting back at the reclaimed home base. The natives were restless. Stalling twice for just three more minutes, I began to question whether my efforts were in vain. About 60 seconds from bailing I noticed an oh-so-subtle back build of pastel color brewing toward the east, over the Parkway span. Jackie! I said, we’re golden. And by golden I meant pink.

    The best sunsets always straddle the fine line of oh yeah or oh no. It’s a razor’s edge of hope that there’s just enough gap underneath the clouds along the horizon to give the last photons of the day a chance to get an angle and deflect off the clouds. That’s just what happened Saturday: a near colorless sunset that ignited a good 5-10 minutes after actual sundown, only to smolder for another 15-20 minutes after that. On this day, our position in space and the physical laws of nature were on our side. Oh, and some luck too.

    Update: unbeknownst to me, Ben captured me in the wild setting up for this shot with his 135mm. Good stuff, Ben. I didn’t even see it coming.

  • Where the Wonderment Goes

    Square format HDR photograph of marsh grass and lake at blue hour
    Where the Wonderment Goes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Sometimes you need your friends to stop by just to get yourself out the door. Despite promising late day sunset conditions, yesterday evening I found myself home from work and passed out on the couch. It was 7 p.m. With the startle of a doorbell I was up and weary, rubbing the sand out of my eyes to open the door. It wasn’t a long visit—maybe ten minutes—but it afforded me the opportunity to get my butt in gear to hop down to the Forge. In retrospect photo making was greater than nap taking—at least for one day.

    Still reeling from my post nap haze at my location some 10 minutes later than what would have been ideal, I didn’t have much time to scan the scene and properly scout my spot. Short on seconds I went to the closest open spot to my position. As you can see the grasses have grown quite unwieldily, but with that came an opportunity. A chance to set my camera right in the scene a, amidst the grasses, to bring a bit of mystery and whim to the photo. Perhaps cliché, but my mind went to right to Thoreau and Walden. A little hidden spot of paradise where the mind can unfurl and set out on a path of wonder.

    Thanks for stopping by, Jackie and Joe!

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  • The Things We See

    Wide angle photograph of blue skies, cumulus clouds, estuary and marsh
    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!

  • Unplanned Deviation

    HDR photograph of a summer sunset over marsh and estuary
    Unplanned Deviation — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    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.

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  • Take Your Place Amongst the Revelers

    HDR photograph of a fiery sunset over Barnegat Bay as seen from Surf City, NJ
    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.

    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

  • Those Summer Nights

    Vibrant color wide angle HDR sunset photograph
    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.

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  • Litter Knows No Bounds

    Golden hour photograph of guardrails, power lines, litter and the salt marsh
    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.

  • Let’s Talk About the Weather

    Let’s Talk About the Weather

    Photograph of a double rainbow arching over power lines and Dock Road at sunset
    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.

    Photograph of stunning clouds, pastel skies and a rainbow appear over the marsh at sunset
    Kaleidoscopic — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30

  • Keep Left

    Vibrant road signs photographed at sunrise
    Keep Left — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30

    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.