Finally, Summer!

Taken on 07/05/12

One of the biggest culture shocks I encountered after moving to the Portland area was that summer typically begins on July 5. Ask anyone on the street what the first day of summer is and July 5 is what they will invariably say. Granted, there are usually a few days here and there of full fledged sun before that, but no one counts on a clear weather forecast for more than a day or two until some time in July (and even then there can be an unpleasant surprise or two). However, this year is living up to the norm and summer is here.

When the sun comes out, so does Portland in all its pasty splendor. Everyone comes creeping out of their homes, eyes all squinty, wondering what that great shiny orb is in the sky giving off something that feels very much like heat. Oh yes, we all say, I remember seeing something very much like that about nine months  ago. I can't remember exactly what it's called but it starts with an "s." You may think I'm kidding but after about eight months of mostly cloudy skies (ever notice how weather forecasters go with partly sunny instead of mostly cloudy?) and a fair amount of rain, everyone in town wants to be outside as much as possible.

Fortunately, today was no exception to the sunshine rule and most of the city was out and about enjoying mostly sunny weather, although a few clouds did creep in, for much of the day. It was a perfect day for a walk along the Willamette River. There's a lovely river walk in Portland that can be reached on either the west or east side and makes a fairly decent loop and includes a walk on top of or below a bridge or two. 


At Waterfront Park there are always geese strutting along the grass. Head north along the sidewalk and to the stairs that will take you to the top of the Hawthorne Bridge. Like most bridges in Portland, this one can be raised to allow ships/boats to pass underneath. Instead of pavement, cars drive along what looks like glorified chicken wire. The tires on the metal make a curious humming sound. There are wide sidewalks on both sides to allow pedestrians and bicyclists room to maneuver past each other. After crossing the bridge to the east side of the river, continue heading north along what is known as the Vera Katz Eastbank Esplanade. 


The Esplanade also goes south to OMSI, the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry, but that will be for another adventure. It's a very pleasant walk along the river, always keeping in mind that a jogger or cyclist might pass by at any moment. The Esplanade has stair access at the Burnside and Steel Bridge and actually goes along the bottom part of the Steel Bridge, giving a birds eye view of well, birds. The Max train runs along the top of the bridge and on the bottom level it isn't unusual to have the BNSF running along less than 10 feet away.                            

This morning there was quite a long wait for the train to go by. When the arms finally lifted, a horde of foot and bike traffic streamed across the track. Continuing north on this side of the river puts you within blocks of the Pearl District, Old Town, and China Town. The Fremont and Broadway Bridge are just visible from this vantage point. I continued on until the sidewalk ended (sounds like a good name for a poem) and then headed to China Town. In China Town, all the street signs are bright red and have both English and Chinese characters. At this point I continued south and soon found my way in the more familiar territory of Pioneer Square and Pioneer Courthouse. A few miles more will take you back through the heart of downtown, along a pedestrian trail, and back over the freeway. There are a number of places to park for excursions like this that are free and have no time restrictions on weekends, if you don't mind walking a bit extra. And on days like this, there's nothing else I'd rather do.

Blogging à la Black and White

One of the things that drew me to the Northwest when I was looking for a place to move to was the color. I suppose the color of the scenery is as scientific a way of how to decide where to live as blindly poking a finger at a map of the world, right? Now, granted, the dominant color is green but there are so many shades of it and it crops up in the most unusual places, some of which are places you do not want it. A green roof or driveway is not a selling point in the local real estate market; it just means you need to powerwash the moss away.

So with that in mind, I never expected that some of my favorite photos I've taken to be black and white. Not, that is, until a recent picture taking excursion on a recent Friday the 13th (insert creepy music here).

One of my other favorite hobbies, besides photography and hiking, is Scottish Country dancing. Whenever I have the opportunity, I like to leave work early on Friday (who wouldn't?), drive up to Vancouver, Washington, and drive out with some friends to a class taught deep in the Columbia River Gorge. To kill time in between getting to Vancouver and meeting up with the carpool, I entertain myself by taking pictures on the I-5 bridge that crosses the Columbia River. This particular Friday the 13th, there were some terrific clouds looming on the horizon. I didn't realize it at the time, but they were going to provide a perfect atmosphere for some black and white photos.

There's a rather narrow pedestrian walkway on each side of the bridge, and by narrow I mean just wide enough for a bicycle to get by if the pedestrian isn't very big and really hugs the railing. There was a man walking behind me heading back toward the Oregon side of the river and I let him pass me as I took pictures of the boats skimming across the surface of the river. As I turned back to continue on my way, the man had reached the highest point of the bridge and was about to began the gradual descent on his way to the other side. On a whim, I got my camera out and snapped a few quick shots of him as he was framed against the sky. I was apparently also blocking a cyclist because as I came out of my murky thoughts concerning aperture and shutter speeds, I heard an "excuse me" over the roar of the traffic and realized I was standing right in front of a man who was trying to ride his bike across the bridge. I snapped his picture too as he rode on, but it didn't turn out as well as the others.

When I got home, I was mildly pleased with the color version of the photo. But it was a week or so later when it was converted to black and white that it really came into its own.

After that, I was more conscious of what would make a good black and white photo. A few weeks ago, I was at Nisqually Wildlife Refuge outside of Olympia, Washington. It was a Dutch sky kind of day with more clouds than wildlife but that was fine. Clouds are much easier to get pictures of than birds any day. At one point on the trail, there were two barns side by side. Those coupled with the clouds made for some interesting subjects to experiment with (I feel like Dr. Frankenstein or Igor putting the words "experiment" and "subject" in the same sentence). In color, the pictures were either over or underexposed because of the rather harsh light I was shooting into, but in black and white, the direct light was softened and served to add interest to the old buildings and their surroundings.

Once I realized what fun there was to be had with black and white photos, I went through pictures taken in the past and converted a number of them to black and white. Not all of them make the conversion successfully, they're rather like people who are natural brunettes and try to go blonde or vice versa. But there are quite a few that can wear both color and the lack of it equally as well. I was surprised that several sunset shots fit in that category. Typically a sunset is special because of its color, but these that I converted to black and white seem to wear the monochrome mantel quite well. As much as I hate to end this post with a terrible pun, I just can't help myself. After my black and white discovery, I guess Friday the 13th really is my lucky day.

Someone's Always Watching

I considered saving a post about this topic until I had more material, but then I decided this is sure to continue happening if I keep taking pictures. It's becoming more common for someone to make the comment "Oh, are you taking pictures?" as I stand with camera in hand and focus on some faraway object. I must admit to wanting to respond with "No, I'm trying to start my car" on those occasions but that hardly seems polite. There are three instances that stand out in my mind where the people  I encountered were either extremely kind, interesting, or just a bit on the over-protective side.

First there is Mr. X. I will probably never see him again and even if I did I probably wouldn't know who he was. I met Mr. X very early one morning as I was standing on a local bridge waiting to see if it was going to be a good sunrise. The skyline of Portland rolls out in front of you with no obstructions between you, the buildings and the sun (well, except maybe the clouds). I awoke very early that morning for some reason and of course the first thing that came to mind was going to take pictures. Isn't that what everyone thinks of at 5:00 on a Saturday morning? Well, never mind. I'm always afraid of missing something so I hurry to get somewhere and then end up waiting for a long, long time.

Such was the case this morning. And it was cold and windy on that bridge. I was focussing on the sky but noticed out of the corner of my eye that a car had driven by and then turned around. Intuition said the driver was coming back to ask me something. Sure enough, the car pulled up and the window rolled down. I remember a rather distinguished looking man with a small, clipped mustache was sitting in the driver's seat. He told me he was going to ask me a stupid question, but was I okay? Then he saw my camera around my neck and was instantly relieved. I sincerely hope he didn't feel foolish asking me if I was about to jump because it was really a kind thing for him to do. He went on his way and I continued to wait. This is a sample of what I waited for, nothing spectacular but not too bad. On the way down to the freeway I got a glimpse of I-5 with the sun behind it and, of course, had to find a place to park and snap a quick picture.

My next encounter was with Bob. It was another early Saturday and this time I wanted to focus on Mt. Hood. There are several places in town where you can get a fairly unobstructed view of the mountain as the sun comes up. Bob walked past me several times as I was standing by my car, staring at the sky. He probably wondered if the whole "Keep Portland Weird" idea was getting a little out of hand. He finally was able to see my camera and that's when the conversation began. He had lived in that neighborhood for many, many years and was able to give me a history of it and of the local area. He is a landscape painter and we spent quit some time discussing our favorite hiking areas and about the beauty of the Northwest.
Finally, the sun made its way over the rooftops and burst onto the scene, like a child on Christmas morning who just can't wait any longer. We both watched in silence as it came into view and then shook hands and promised to stay in touch. I do intend to go back there when the weather warms up a bit and find Bob's house (the green one) and see some of his paintings and meet his two dogs.



Last, but certainly not least, there was the elderly lady in the green Buick. I say elderly but she was certainly sharp, and very observant. I was photographing white camellia blossoms that had fallen on top of a stone wall. They were surrounded by shrubs so the background was very dark and made a wonderful contrast with the creamy white blooms. Very intent on experimenting with the shutter speed and exposure, I still noticed a car pass by and slow down. I figured it was someone who was lost and was going to ask for directions. I waited a moment and then moved on to some pink flowers along the same wall. Sure enough, the car turned and came near to where I was standing. The window rolled down and a very nicely dressed woman said "Do you mind if I ask you what you're doing?". She was actually very pleasant about it but the gist of it was she said I looked like spy trying not to get caught. I offered to show her my pictures but she said no, that was okay and she went on her way. The whole thing struck me as so funny I almost burst into laughter on the side of the street, but then that might attract attention. For one thing, I doubt most spies wear loud green Adidas t-shirts with capris and wander around taking pictures of flowers. But, you never know these days. Standards in every profession seem to be slipping.