Two new friends, Holly and Shelby, let me take their picture on the shores of Kachemak Bay this evening. Both are active dancers so it only seemed right for them to be jumping. It wasn’t until finishing the edit that I realized all this leaping was not just fun, it was timely.
This jumping around on the beach is something we’ll be exploring more as it warms up and days get longer. I suppose images like this might have stock potential, but mostly they are just for fun.
I’ve posted a temporary gallery with a few of the images here.
Standing out on the snow covered beach yesterday looking for the surfers I was there to photograph I had time to think about how strange it was. There I am in a near white out, the normally dark grey beach is white with fresh snow, looking out towards the rumbling surf I can barely make out the surfers in their black wetsuits. The sky was dark with heavy snow clouds, the waves were still messy from a nearby storm. Every once in a while I’d look back up the beach towards the cars and another black shape with a big white object would emerge from the greyness heading my way, every patch of skin covered up except a little red face. The surf wasn’t really very good, but after a slow fall season there were a handful of eager Alaskan surfers out there trying to see the sets coming through the blowing snow.
It is incredibly inspiring and enjoyable to photograph unique subjects like this. Standing out there stomping my feet to keep the blood flowing I couldn’t stop smiling thinking about it, surfers and a snowstorm, what a contrast. Though winter is our surf season, it’s not that often that we get the pleasure of surfing during a heavy snow. I was glad to be able to get out and photograph in the few short hours we had before the sun dipped back below the mountains.
That’s what someone is said to have when they do curious things in the dark and cold of winter. Normal things would include carrying wood from the woodpile to the fireplace, talking to your friends about how stupid ‘The Deadliest Catch’ is, but how you watch it anyways, or spending all the money you made commercial fishing on espresso beans to keep you from hibernating. If you happen to be up late at night on one of those long winter nights keeping the fire going and see your neighbor stumble from his house at 5am in a skin tight black suit carrying what looks like a silver body bag you can safely assume he’s off to do some self medication for his cabin fever. Off to Bear Glacier, which is at least a three hour drive and a 45minute boat ride from anywhere, unless you live in Seward, Alaska.
Last winter a few of the local surf crowd headed to the glacier for a real alaskan winter surf experience. We left home at 5am so we could be waiting at the boat when Capt. Scott showed up at first light. After pouring a couple gallons of antifreeze coolant in the right main we where on our way, all wondering if the engine was actually going to need any ‘coolant’ with the air temps far below freezing.
As we approached Bear Glacier we were engulfed in a golden fog, and greeted with a decent 3-5ft swell rolling in from the Gulf of Alaska. Everyone suited up and jumped in the water as if they had mistaken Bear Glacier for a coral reef in indonesia. I was thinking about that science experiment when I learned that salt water can be below 32F and still not freeze. I guess I should have just been thankful we were surrounded by saltwater allowing us to use our surfboards instead of ice skates. After five months of refrigeration, the water in Resurrection Bay was cold.
Looking at the back side of the waves peeling along in nice rights I had to remind myself that this was a business trip, the surfing could come after the photos. If I would have known then that camera focus issues were going to make 99% of the shots useless, I would have happily left the camera behind and went for a good sloshing in the super cold cycle. However, I needed to learn this lesson, the one about taping the focus ring to keep it from shifting. The lesson was certainly burned into my memory when I returned home and looked at all those smiling faces with incredible snow capped mountains in the background. I think they were smiling anyway; mostly they were just black blobs in a sea of green with a background of white and blue. I clearly remember thinking how incredible these shots were going to be as I happily snapped away, consoling my aching desire to surf by promises of becoming rich and famous from these photos. As chance would have it, a few of the photos taken in the surfhousing did turn out, but I’m still waiting for the rich and famous stuff.
On the second day a friend, who knows me well, called with an alert to the unfolding magic outside. He called because in his own words – “I figured you were working on your computer.” That nonsense ended quickly. I ran outside and set up a still camera (canon 20D) on the porch with an interval timer instructing it to shoot a time laps sequence. Then I scurried up the hill behind my house to shoot the sunset from a better perspective than my porch offers. I often find myself in a situation of mild panic when the light is perfect out. Quick! quick! The light might be gone in 5 minutes. This must be what it’s like to practice triage in a medical emergency. You might only have ten minutes. Photo opportunities are dying left and right. You must do something, but what? You can’t do it all. In this case I went for a quick setup on the time laps camera. Putting it on the porch where the view isn’t the best but it still looked promising. Then I moved to a better view point to frame images shooting normal stills. I could have shot a better time laps, but it would have cost me in the variety of stills I was able to shoot.