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.
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.
Bayside Living — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Made just last night, I can assure you the light chasing on Long Beach Island’s southern tip was spectacular. A+ conditions, really. With pockets of haze and roiling cumulus clouds rolling west to east the setup was spectacular; late day light was creating all kinds of unique effects rendering ideal conditions for what’s easily the best photograph I’ve made in months—at least as far as I’m concerned.
After bouncing around from spot to spot, we ultimately settled on this Holgate bayside locale to make photographs. This little hideaway Holgate park on the eastern shore of Little Egg Harbor, coupled with the hallmark cedar siding and the sharp lines on the edifice of this bayfront property seen above, provided a spot on composition as far as I’m concerned. The intense light bouncing off the clouds created an intense gradient of yellow to blue as you let your eyes move from left to right across the photograph. I think it might be a while before I make another shot that trumps last night’s drama.
Last night was easily the most fun I’ve had behind the camera in months.
Southside on the Bayside — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I’ve got 18.6 miles of opportunity just to my east. It’s time I embrace it. Long Beach Island is a wonderful place—and now that I’ve found purpose by way of camera—I want to connect with my geographic neighbor better. See it in a better light if you’ll excuse me the super cheesy phrase. Particularly I want to scout LBI’s southern side. A place I’ve spent plenty of formative time growing up failing to appreciate what was staring my square in the face. There’s got to be plenty of great places to make photographs over there, and I want to find them.
As for this here photograph? It was made last night on the west end of Engleside Avenue in Beach Haven. Just outside the newly opened Tucker’s (it’s good to see that back). It’s a simple parking lot overlooking some docks and Little Egg Harbor. This time of year, late Spring, offers a straight away view of the sunset. Allowing you to really line it up if that’s your thing.
Conditions were pretty great last night, cloud wise. A small cell with heavy downpours managed to form just to my south. For a moment there seemed a real chance lightning might happen. While that never materialized, it was a quality shoot all-in-all. Minus the bugs. To hell with them.
Lots of credit to Jon Carr. He nailed it when he picked Stafford Forge for tonight’s location for optimal sunset shooting.
With cirrus clouds filling the air, tonight had the earmarkings of a good one. The light was energized, the temperature was crisp, and the natives (me) were restless. A veritable perfect storm for picture making. The only threat was a low level marine cloud layer, but its threatening presence along the westward horizon proved little more than a bluff as it did not inhibit the sky palette from coloring in any way whatsoever. Once the sky was coloring up at our backs, on the east side, the worries of another cloud-out drifted away. Hope sprung eternal.
What happened over the next 15 minutes was a combination of photo making enjoyment and good old fashion natural wonderment. It’s such a thrill to watch the entire dome of the sky paint itself as a clock would—the colors slowly marching from east to west over the great arc in the sky. It was when the color was at our zenith that I quickly abandoned the westward shot I had all framed up with my tripod in order to make the photo you see above. Sometimes you’ve got to be ready to call the audible when Mother Nature surprises you with better light elsewhere.
Tonight was a lot of fun. This photograph is just icing on the cake.
Cross Process the Forge — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I hate to say but picture making just hasn’t been much fun lately; and while it’s hard to puzzle out whether it’s for lack of inspiration, poor mood, shoddy shooting conditions, a plateauing of skills or something else entirely. Either way it’s been a grind. Last night was just another blip on the here comes another busted sunset radar. Almost just hasn’t been almost enough for what feels like months now.
So what’s to be done when natural light doesn’t live up to its end of the bargain? We play with sliders and presets in post processing—or at least that’s what I do. Some might say this works to flex the creative muscles. I would say it’s more like pressing a bunch of buttons hoping something interesting happens that will help bail out another ho-hum photograph.
Ironically enough I actually like this picture. I just wish I had more control of the process and felt a little better doing it.
Break the Cycle — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I’ll try to keep the whining to a minimum lest we call the wambulance. But man! It feels like forever since I’ve managed to catch up with some potent light come sundown. Between life, cloud-outs, a protracted winter and just a whole bunch of bad timing this has to be the longest photo drought in my three plus years of shooting. The last six weeks have been rough, man.
Fighting the temptation to nap it out I opted to roll the dice on the still cloudy skies and head south toward Great Bay Boulevard. This decision paid off in spades. I had parting clouds, low tide with dead calm water and plenty of pretty pastels. Everything was ideal. I was back in my element. Me, my camera and the sky.
Just sit back, take in this photo, listen to The Passing of the Elves and it’s Calgon, take me away!
I know many of us have had it with the snow, but please indulge me this third and final photograph from my serendipitous photo foray at Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area this past Friday, March 6th in the two thousand and fifteenth year of the common era.
This, the third picture in this series, continues with the fantastical visual theme of snow, woods, ice and light arranged in an array untouched by man. Our environment is one of the few cherished gifts we can pass on to our future generations, and there’s no reason for these places of wonder to only live on in memory and photographs alone.
