|
 Trees and Pond
Sharp, high contrast |
 Trees and Pond
Soft, gauzy |
|---|
I had to get a move on. The sun was getting lower and lower, and Brooks was still about 8 miles away. Now, where was it that I crossed the ditch?
I didn't have much time left, so I drove down Howell Prairie Road without too much looking around for photo opportunities. I remember my wife said that she saw the farm with the barn with Mt. Hood behind it along Highway 99-E. She was fairly certain that it was south of Brooks where she had seen it.
By the time I reached Brooks, the sun was touching the horizon and the sky was pink and red. At Highway 99-E I turned south. If Tanya's memory was accurate, the farm should be on my left, so I drove and craned my neck, keeping Mt. Hood in view as much as possible, looking for that scene.
I drove all the way down to the Lake Labish onion fields, but there was no sign of the barn with Mt. Hood behind it. I decided to turn around and go north, retracing my path and perhaps seeing it from a better angle. But by the time I got to Brooks without finding it, I had pretty much given up. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and light was beginning to fade. I simply had nothing else to do but to drive home. It was obvious I had missed my opportunity.
About a mile north of Brooks, to my right, with Mt. Hood in the distance, there it was: a farm, a barn, a pasture, and cows! Okay! Park on the shoulder out of traffic, and let's see what we can do in the less than ideal light.
I grabbed my camera and jumped out of the car. About 8 cows were grazing in the part of the pasture closest to me, closest to 99-E. I just kept taking pictures as I slowly walked past them. As I approached, they began to look a little skittish, and a few bolted to the other side of the pasture. I knew if I could somehow keep them close I could compose a more interesting picture. But how? How do you speak moo-talk?
Fortunately, one of the cows was more curious about me than afraid. She stood her ground by the fence and just watched me. As I walked, I was able to align the cow, the barn, and Mt. Hood for a pretty good shot.
The farm at sunset
After snapping this shot, she had had enough, and turned and walked off to join the rest of the herd. Little by little they all made their way to congregate to the right of the barn. It was a hodge-podge of poses, and nothing I shot then impressed me as much as this one.
I drove home happy. I was glad I was able to find the location my wife had in mind, and I was feeling good that I had grabbed a few good images elsewhere that day.
Such is the luck of meandering.
Meandering Luck -- Part 1 of 2
When out "light-stalking", I never know what I will discover. Some excursions result in very little that I can get excited about. Other times, the results can be quite good. One never knows.
This day, I was out driving around Mt. Angel, Oregon. I'm quite familiar with the area. The Catholic church in Mt Angel is one of the most picturesque in the area, and the Abbey offers some spectacular views. But there are still a lot of small back roads that I had never explored.
The main highway between Mt. Angel and Silverton is busy and dotted with industrial and agricultural scenes. I decided to turn off at Hook Road and head west to see where it would take me. I wanted to get to Brooks in time for sunset, because my wife said she saw a farm with a barn and Mt. Hood in the background, and I would probably like to photograph it when the sky was glowing red as it sometimes does.
I drove on Hook Road for a couple of miles, looking for things that would catch my eye. Every now and again I'd twist around and look to see what was behind me. You never can tell what appears behind you if you simply keep looking forward. Sometimes my most surprising shots come from when I just turn around.
I crossed over the Cline Bridge, which goes over the Pudding River, and merged onto Saratoga Road. Just about a half-mile from the bridge I saw an old red barn off to the right, tucked away behind some trees. A plaque on the barn said "1887". I pulled over, walked back to the drive way and saw this.
It's not every day you run across a 127-year-old barn. I wanted to get closer, but there was a no trespassing sign. I respect private property, so shooting from just this side of the sign was all I was willing to do. Plus, there didn't appear to be anyone at home in the house a few more yards up the driveway, so I couldn't go up and ask permission.
I had to be satisfied with what I could capture. Such is the luck of meandering.
I walked back to my car, head down, reviewing my shots, oblivious to my surroundings. Just as I reached the driver's door, I looked up. It was better than the barn.
Something wonderful is around the bend
The angle and glow of the sun, the curve in the road, the over-arching trees, they all came together just right.
I took several shots at different exposures and different focal lengths, and got back into the car, knowing I had something to work with.
After I got back home and edited them, this is the one I selected as the best of the bunch.
Happy with my shots of the curve in the road, I continued on Saratoga Road for a few miles. It threaded itself through various farms and pastures, and finally terminated in its junction with Howell Prairie Road. I knew that taking a right on Howell Prairie would lead me back to Brooks, and I knew that the sun wasn't going to wait for me. It was getting pretty low in the sky. But right in front of me was a sight I couldn't resist.
More to come in part 2.
Just Shoot Me Now
These have got to be some of the most god-awful attempts at portraiture ever perpetrated upon unsuspecting clients. And they're hilarious! Click on the picture to see more.
Hey, men! Have you ever wanted the power to hypnotize women to do whatever you want?
Sunset on Champoeg Creek
I knew the day was going to have a great sunset, so I headed off early to search for a good scene. I intended to try to get to the Willamette River near Newberg, but I soon realized I was running out of time. By the time I would have got there and scouted around the sun would be down and the light already faded.
Initially, in my rush, I drove past where Champoeg Creek crosses the St. Paul Hwy. Then about a half mile down the road, I came to my senses and changed my mind. I turned the car around and drove back. I parked about an eighth of a mile away, and walked to the creek and waited. I'm glad I did.
Here, the sun is just touching the ridge above Champoeg Creek, with its rays shining through the trees. The creek itself was like glass and reflected the sky and clouds perfectly. How could you ask for a better shot?
I decided to use HDR to capture the scene, so I set my camera to bracket my shots by two f-stops. One picture is underexposed by two stops, one is overexposed by two stops, and one is right in the middle. In situations like this, where there is such a wide difference in darks and lights, shadows and sun, I think my decision was the correct one.
This picture, taken a few minutes after the sun went behind the ridge, also HDR, captures the symmetry of the trees and their reflections. I almost titled it "God's Rorschach Test".
These are available in the Landscapes/Water or Plants/Trees galleries.
Whistler, BC, in Miniature
A tiltshift lens can make things appear to be miniatures of themselves. Here's a fabulous video of the ski resort at Whistler, BC, that looks like it lives in a snow globe.