Friday Afternoon Adventures

Adventure is a rather ambiguous term. For some people it can be hoofing it through a crosswalk while the red hand is flashing a warning and for others it's skydiving. For the most part, my idea of adventure is heading off in search of good photos in unfamiliar areas and seeing what happens next. Not sky diving but at least a couple of notches above sprinting through crosswalks.

My employer offers a summer schedule from Memorial Day to Labor Day. By working a little bit extra Monday through Thursday I am able to leave at 12:30 on Fridays. It's almost like having a three-day weekend all summer (not too shabby as a college friend used to say). Through the month of June the typical schedule is a quick lunch and then driving up to Vancouver, Washington before the 5:00 rush hour traffic, which on Fridays starts around 10:00 a.m. I have managed to cram the 19-mile trip into two hours but generally it's only about 45 minutes to an hour in slower moving traffic. The reason for making this trek each Friday (besides the photo ops) is the chance to take part in a Scottish Country Dance class that takes place farther out in the Columbia River Gorge, in the town of Stevenson, Washington. I meet up with a carpool in Vancouver around 6:00 and we drive out, have class, and get back around 10:00 p.m. It's a long day but worth it. So, all that to say I usually have about two to two and one-half hours to explore the area and look for photo-worthy sights.

Notice the blackberries

Clear days between January and July 4 are way too few and far between for this former desert rat. Every week when I drive up north I can't wait to see if Mt. Hood will be visible from the bridge that crosses the Columbia River. Finally, this week most of the mountain was visible. Driving across a smaller arm of the river, I noticed the marina was especially colorful with the mountain in the background and all the houseboats seemingly clustered around its base. After parking my car I started the long walk back across the bridge and headed towards the marina. Imagine my dismay when I saw a sign that said "Pedestrians Prohibited" posted on the bike path. I must admit to being a bit miffed. After all, bikes go absolutely everywhere in Portland, even where they shouldn't in my humble opinion. Surely one pedestrian wasn't going to gum up the works. But, being the usually law-abiding citizen that I am (and knowing people get tickets for offenses as minor as jay walking) I turned back to see if there was another way to get the same shot of the houseboats and Mt. Hood. I found a park near the water's edge and made my way down a steep hill covered with blackberry bushes (I have the scratches on my legs to prove it). I was pleased with the photos shown above, but they weren't quite what I had in mind.

As I turned around to leave the park I saw a woman coming toward me pushing a wheelbarrow. I asked her if she knew of another way to get a shot of the houseboats and Mt. Hood without going on the bike path. She didn't but was sure someone in one of the nearby stores could tell me. She herself was an artist and had painted the scene. She lived in one of the houseboats and I was really hoping she would offer to show me her work and I could snap a photo from her houseboat. No offer was made so I trooped back up the way I had come. I went across the street to a Chevron station to ask someone there if they knew about the bike path.

One of the attendants (in Oregon it's illegal to pump your own gas), a tall man with longish hair and a gap-toothed grin, spoke to me as I came up, noting that I had made a big loop around the area. I asked him about the no pedestrian sign and if it was a serious no trespassing sign or just a cautionary kind of sign. He said pedestrians were always using the path and it wasn't a problem. I thought to myself as I left "yes, but are you sure, I mean you have no teeth," but he seemed like a nice guy so I figured I would give it a shot. As I neared the beginning of the path, I decided the sign was intended for the freeway entrance on the other side of the bike path. And, even if that wasn't the case, it would make a good defense if the need arose. I was very glad I talked to the man at the station because the shots with the houseboats and the mountain were exactly what I was looking for in my afternoon quest.

After taking at least 100 pictures, probably only a slight exaggeration, I headed back across the bridge and to my car. Along the way, the orange poppies and the sailboats caught my eye. Fortunately, there were a lot of boats because I had to fuss so much with the shutter speed and aperture that by the time I was ready for it, the boat had moved out of range and I had to wait for the next one to come along. 

This completed the first phase of my picture outing and it was time to move onto the second part. I parked on a residential street and headed off to look for unsuspecting flowers to pounce on and add to my growing collection of closeups. I wasn't disappointed. Roses are always a favorite and the bluebells in the next block were posing up a storm so I had to take their pictures too. All in all, it was another successful adventure and one which I hope to repeat for the next few weeks.

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.

Sunrise/Sunset Northwestern Style

After living here over six years (goodness, how time flies) this is the first winter/spring time I can remember having the opportunity to enjoy sunrises and sunsets. That probably doesn't sound like a big deal because, after all, the sun has been rising and setting for some time now. However, when  you don't see it for large blocks of time you tend to feel like it's shining on every part of the U.S. except for this cloudy corner. I could be exaggerating of course. Maybe it's just that this is the first year I've had camera in hand to actually witness this time of the day. Now, taking a picture of a sunrise or sunset may sound easy, but believe me it takes some planning. For one thing there are trees here, lots and lots of them. And, as trees tend to do, they block almost everything from sight and allow only glimpses of what's behind that leafy (or pine needley) curtain, as evidenced by the photo above.

The first item on the agenda of photographing a sun event is finding a place that is above the trees and is also not blocked by an obnoxious building. The I-5 bridge that crosses the Columbia River and puts you into Vancouver, Washington is a perfect place if you want to avoid obstacles, not to mention the added bonus of the reflections in the water to add to the interest. The picture with the twin contrails was taken on a January morning when I was headed to in the Vancouver office of my firm. The picture above it was taken along a sidewalk that runs above the river. The Portland airport is off in the distance. That turned out to be a bonus because several Southwest planes came in to land as I watched. Planes weren't the only thing in the air that day.  Canadian geese also chose that moment to show off their acrobatics over the still waters.

However, driving to Vancouver is not an option before going to work so with a little observation and thought I located three places within a five to ten minute drive from my house that give some decent views of both Mt. Hood and the sun for the morning and the sun's solo performance at night.The picture on the right was taken on an early March morning. I was taking the day off from work and could have slept in, but no, the sun had to wake me up. The nerve! The pink sunrise was on the way to work, and is unusual in that I've not seen the sky that color since then.

Sunsets are another issue. The best place to get a really clear shot would, again, be Vancouver but evening traffic is a hindrance and there's nothing more frustrating than sitting in your car as the sun sets. I have decided the sun moves a lot faster as it gets close to setting, probably something to do with gravitational pull (scientist that I am).  The picture to the left and the one below it were taken from an area known as Council Crest in Southwest Portland. It was a cold, windy day but sunny so everyone was out trying to soak up some Vitamin D. 


These last two pictures were captured spur of the moment after I looked out the window and saw that even with all the clouds (or maybe because of them) the sunset was going to be very colorful even if you didn't actually see the sun. I particularly liked the bird sitting in the tree, almost like he was the designated watchbird who was to make sure the sun really did set before reporting back to the flock. Now that sunrises and sunsets are seen more rarely I appreciate them more and have learned to be grateful for the things I was taking granted before they become only summertime memories.