Just a Day in the BWCA

March 18, 2013 No Comments

There’s something indescribably refreshing about the BWCA.

Just a Day in the BWCA

It’s sitting by a fire and enjoying conversation and camaraderie. It’s sleeping between towering red pines and waking to nothing but the call of loons and a sunrise. It’s being humbled by miles of wilderness and over 10 percent of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes. It’s dealing with whatever Mother Nature throws your way, because you have no other choice. It’s not wearing a watch or even caring what time it is. It’s realizing the deadlines that await you 300 miles away don’t matter that much.

It’s being disconnected.
Completely. Disconnected.

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The Groggy, Frozen Fingered Photographer Gets the Shot

January 26, 2013 No Comments

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Travel alarm clocks always seem to have the most obnoxious sounds. At 5:00 am on August 4, 2008, my alarm started blaring. Surrounded by campsite after campsite of family vacations, I’m certain my pre-dawn siren awoke everyone within a 3 campsite radius.

Camping in Yellowstone at 8,000 feet means even summer mornings are chilly. At 33 degrees, this particular August morning was no exception. But I was there to photograph, not to sleep in on a rocky ground, using clothes from the night before as a pillow.

The Groggy, Frozen Fingered Photographer Gets the Shot

I headed over to Yellowstone Lake, knowing I’d be in a position to catch a good sunrise. Although unprepared for the near freezing temperatures, my early rise greeted me not only with time to “warm up” my photography, but also a solitary Yellowstone Lake photo shoot. I was free to wander the boardwalks, amidst unpleasant sulfur mud pots, and set up my tripod wherever I chose. I wasn’t surrounded by tourists and family vacations. I had the lake to myself that morning.

Just before sunrise, I found my spot. A few trees breaking up the pre-sunrise sky, and a mix of haze and smoke from the surrounding thermal activity. After just a few shots, I knew dealing with obnoxious alarms and frozen fingers had all paid off.

Avoiding the early bird gets the worm cliche, I’d say the groggy, frozen fingered photographer gets the shot.

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