Recently in Letters Category

An adaptation of my photograph from 1969 in Pelican Bay, Santa Cruz Island, California.  Santa Barbara 20 miles away on the horizon.  Every weekend we would come, my teenage friends and I, in my father's 29 ft. sailboat, SEA COLT.  We brought half the food we needed and spent the rest of the day in the water catching the rest.  This is now part of the Channel Islands National Park, but in the '60's this was a glorius rare day warmed by the Santa Anna winds from the mainland, crystal clear skies.... and the sea was all ours. So I remember my father on this day for his generous granting of my freedom to have this day, he reveled in such places.

June 10, 2009

    I am only 21,547 days old. I can remember many of them, starting with swatting mosquitoes on the screen that covered the top of my baby crib.  I can recall slithering out from under it and grasping the white crib's round rails as I slid to the floor landing atop the shag rug on which I loved to play.  It was my first solo adventure and I didn't even know how to talk.  
    Of those thousands of days, the ones that are etched in my memory most, are days that I was traveling, changing my environment, making forays into areas beyond my comfort zone.  By the time I was 30 years old I realized that a true adventure was one from which I might not return, but just that remote possibility excited neurons to forever sparkle in my memory.  As a younger man my youthful eye was blind to many dangers in trips to places that now I give more thought before proceeding.  Sometimes I escaped tragedy just by sheer luck, wandering into places and environments that I was not prepared to see and experience; I was fair game for the seemingly predatory nature of a sometimes harsh planet and her lurking inhabitants.  But go I did, and I still want more.
    With time however, the "comfort zone" changed too.  I am tall, so I no longer am keenly excited to get in a sardine can of an airline for hours on end to get some place.  A few years ago one such flight caused a DVT in my leg that brought all travel to a stop for four months.  It is the terrible trick of nature that I still think more/less like I did when I had just 25 years behind me, but the body fails to keep up occasionally.  So a little more caution was added to my travel potion but it generally the results in experiences continue to be just as exciting.  I no longer SCUBA dive in 44 degree F. water as I did as a teenager, in fact many years later I came up with the lame formula of one's age plus 25 or 30 should be the minimum water temperature one should plunge.  It does seem to work.  I still go, but not on moonless nights in waters that Great White sharks are known to inhabit (it's too cold for me now! ;-)
    My first parentally-sponsored solo travels came as a preteen, learning to sail in South San Francisco Bay.  I had an eight foot El Toro with 45 sq. ft. of magnificent sail.  It was my ticket to freedom within my small world.  At 12 years of age, I commandeered this vessel across the full width of San Francisco Bay, probably about 6 miles further than I was allowed to go by my parents.  So I found out that if I didn't tell them, and I made it back, then it was probably OK.  So I didn't tell them for at least a dozen years.  But in defense of my voyage of discovery, I was in my mind, fully prepared.  Every bit as prepared as I have been on every trip since, it's just that my level of awareness of what preparations DO need to be done has changed.  In retrospect as an adult I know I was woefully unprepared for that trip across the bay... I had not done a weather check, only told one friend, he was 11 years old, and really was just as clueless as me, I had no back up plan should something have gone awry (like the boat flipping and not being able to right it), many things left out.  Fast forward many decades and a million miles.
    My latest long solo journey was to Antarctica.  I decided to go on the trip after I heard of a cancellation that freed a berth on a tired Russian ship that would be full of other like-minded photographers.  I had nine days to prepare.  Most on this trip had been preparing for well over a year!  I had to move very quickly.  I had gear arriving hours before my departure, and I would be gone over a month.  Baggage checked, boarding pass in hand, I cleared security, only to see CANCELLED above my flight's gate.  An ice storm in a connecting airport had brought down the whole house of cards.  A day later I was back at the same gate, but this time I made it.  I had prepared a cushion of several days in Buenos Aires for just such an emergency, and it paid off.  I was booked in a cabin for two, but I had replaced a couple, so there was an extra bunk.  I tried to get several friends to join me, but no luck.  However one friend it turned out had a ranch in South America which I ended up visiting at the end of my voyage, a sublime experience that I will not elaborate on here as it is well documented already (search my web site for Estancia Alicura).
    My point is, be persistent in your quest for new places and experiences.  At first you might be alone, but soon enough you'll be with new friends enjoying a whole other world from their viewpoint.  These events will alter the course of your life.  My lost night before the start of my journey south cemented my relationship with my girl friend.  We'll be married in two weeks.  Hello world, here I come.

Last week I did a short "BBQ Tour" with my friend Mark to sample the spiced cuisine in the Austin region of Texas. Unfortunately we did not have the discipline required for what I am sure will become many forays in multiple compass directions. We were overcome with the aromas offered at our first stop, Smitty's Market, in Lockhart, Texas, and ordered too much.


It was only 10:30am and we had the full day before us. I was doing well up until the moment I snapped the photo of the BBQ on the butcher paper in front of me. Carnivore instincts set in and we seemed out of control for a short time. Smitty's got four greasy thumbs up in the end. The sweet ribs were our favorite. We pressed onward to Luling after walking around the heart of Lockhart.



The smoke stained sign in the interior of the Luling City Market was ominous. But our quest for food that only a cardiologist could appreciate was not over yet. We did the "usual" at this point, one link of sauage, four ribs, and a few slices of brisket. Since this was "lunch" we even threw in a Shiner beer too. The line was out the door by the time our eyes glazed over with a coating of cholesterol and we muttered the words "I'm done" and "me too." Wrapped up what was left just in case, and took it with us. Mark and I agreed it wasn't exactly fair to judge the Luling Market in our sated state, but we gave the edge to Smitty's.


"On the road again" as Willie Nelson says in his song. We stopped briefly in Gonzales to take in the local antiques, both in and outside shops. A nice place to stop and visit the Gonzales Memorial Museum, full of Texas history. It was near here that on October 2nd, 1835 the first shot was fired in the Texas war of independence from Mexico.



Our own day was running late and we had one final destination to see the K. Spoetzl Brewery, the creator of Shiner beer. We arrived about 90 seconds before the visitor center closed, but not to late for a quick sample to end our day.

More to come....

I have had a lot of discussion about this image in my Caribbean gallery so I am going to elaborate more on it.  I did an exploratory trip of the Caribbean in 1978 on an old 1930's schooner for six weeks.  I traveled from the Grenadines to Antigua.  May 15, 1978 was the first time I saw English Harbor (I kept an extensive written log so I know the dates).  There were not any boats in the outer harbor then (lower part of the image with a lot of anchored sailboats) and I took a small dinghy and rowed over to the far end of the bay.  For the next few hours I snorkeled the entire length of the shallow bay, repeatedly diving to the bottom.  The whole expanse of water was full of shimmering schools of juvenile fish, and with each plunge toward the bottom the fish would open a "hole" to let me through and then close behind me, covering my view of the surface.  It was magical.  I was 28 years old and had been free diving and SCUBA diving since my mid-teens in California, but I had never experienced anything like this.  It was an enthralling, interactive contact with nature.   I did not visit this harbor again until 1990 when it became my first landfall after sailing across the Atlantic.  Another visually intoxicating experience with the elements. This trip was only my third visit over this 31 year history.  I knew that there were steel drum bands playing on Shirley Heights on Sunday evenings, having been there before, so we set off just before sunset in Pele's Taxi, the driver a local personality.  I knew the view, I was armed with a basket full of memories and I knew exactly want I wanted to convey in an image.   Which I might add as was quite different from the throng of commotion behind me... a hundred steel drums, children & adults dancing, beer and wine flowing to the staccato of the drums... even some palm fronds being woven into baskets. 

This image was published in the March 22, 2009 issue of the Austin American Statesman as it won their "Win in a Flash" contest.

This is National Novel Writing Month if you were unaware.  I only learned of the event last night in late evening reading in Macworld (thank you Jason Snell).  I have signed up and will in the next day or so formulate my plan to write 50,000 words by the end of the month.  Since I am a novice at this, I will base it loosely on a detailed log (hand written) that I kept in 1977 of some time in the Caribbean on an old sailing vessel.  More details as I imagine them on that.

Today, I have been working on images again, and this time from the city that has inspired a lot of novels in the past and present, New Orleans.  I pasted through New Orleans last August on a fast trip from Georgia to Texas.  I had one evening and one morning to take photographs.  The image on the left of the cigar shop is a hand held HDR composition of five images, 1 EV apart from 1/15th/sec. to 1/250/sec at f/7.1, ISO 200, EF24-105mm f/4 IS mounted on a Canon 1Ds Mark III.  Precisely at +29° 57' 29.73" N, -90° 3' 55.27" W, at 9:05 a.m. on August 11, 2008.  I could spend weeks in this city taking photographs.

The one on the right is obviously from seven images in the same area.  For the technically inclined these RAW images were all shot hand held, and aligned in Adobe Photoshop CS4 Extended as a "smart object" in the "stack mode".  Then the maximum filter was applied to the stack mode.  I love the contrast of the fellow walking in his dress whites against the vivid colors of the street.  It is a great city and a fabulous place for photography, I hope she stays afloat.  So much history is written on the walls of every building.  Interpretation is an endless journey down each alley.  The best of the city however was a late night visit to Cafe du Monde.  Truly some things never change.

The trip from New York CIty to Austin, Texas is not as easy as the Staten Island Ferry, but at least it was an non-stop flight and the flight plan was accepted by the FAA's computers (big glitch today, not many hours after my flight).  I am busy working on images and will create some new galleries soon, as well as have a lengthy commentary about the Silversea trip.  It will be honest and more balanced than the Fox News aboard the ship (the only, yes, ONLY choice of news coverage on what seems to be a sophisticated satellite television system).  Lastly I have one more photo of "Mr. Ben" who was busy photographing me many times.  I would like to thank him for being such a kind and inquisitive subject.  A good time was had by all.

We left Nova Scotia last evening after a wonderful day in the port town of Lunenburg.  Today was in the Bay of Fundy whale watching and I don't think we could have seen more of them.  There were more than a dozen breaching.  We were just southwest of the Brier Island Lighthouse (right image) and it was a lovely dawn.  Tomorrow we'll clear immigration in Gloucester, MA and then transit the Cape Cod Canal in the afternoon. Perhaps we'll see some more whales along the way. These entries are short as they are all done via satellite.  I'll have more annotations about the trip after we are in America.  New York City promises to be an exciting arrival back in the USA.

Commentary on blogging:  It is best done when traveling alone.  That said, I'll do a paragraph to get from St. John's Newfoundland to Halifax, Nova Scotia where we will arrive in about 10 hours.  Ramea Islands were rainy, foggy and interesting, but not very special insofar as photography of my interests.  Gros Morne was wonderful, but we had had barely enough time to do a short walk, let alone a boat ride up the fjord and a hike at the end.... so only the former was accomplished.  I'll be back without slow moving guides.  Today we were in Louisbourg, Nova Scotia... one of the last defenses of the French.  Begun in 1713 and elegantly preserved in that period.  It was a superb historical tour of the early province.

I have new life long friends from Los Angeles and Kansas City.  Who would have known.  It's just the way the stars aligned.

More from Halifax where we will have an all day tour across the island and an evening in Halifax to catch up before leaving for Lunenberg, Nova Scotia.

Aboard the Prince Albert II, leaving the Ramea Islands off the southern coast of Newfoundland.

My first update since arriving in St. John's, Newfoundland.  Upon arriving at the St. John's airport non-stop from Newark, New Jersey on Friday night we have had a lovely welcome to this maritime province.  Terry Adey who lives and works in the St. John's - Twillingate area was there to greet us just after midnight.  We did a quick tour around town in the early Saturday morning hours, even venturing to the top of Signal Hill for a splendid night time panoramic view of St. John's.  Signal Hill was the place where Marconi received his first transmissions across the Atlantic.  

The two nights in St. John's were at the Balmoral Inn (38 Queens Road).  It has a nice self serve cold breakfast available most of the morning, comfortable rooms albeit with a small bath.  The biggest drawback is the necessity of moving almost 200 lbs of luggage (video & still camera gear is more than 60% of this) up almost two full flights of stairs.  However I survived and it was an altogether pleasant stay.

Terry and his wife Debbie were exceeding gracious hosts and tour guides on the Saturday before departure.  Cape Spear, the village of Quidi Vidi, the Battery along with harbor front... all wonderful walks on a picture perfect day.  I'll annotate these days more when I am not uploading posts via satellite and can add more pictures & text easily.

We boarded the Prince Albert II about 1pm on Friday.  St. John's is in the Newfoundland time zone, and it is 1.5 hrs ahead of Eastern Time.... so 2.5 hrs ahead of Texas time.  The night before boarding it has rained for about 10 hours and for sure the weather pattern was changing.  Once upon the ship the 3pm sailing was pushed back to 8:00 pm due to the wind, and sadly our first destination, L'anse aux Meadows, was cancelled due to the high wind and north swell bearing down on our planned course.  Plan B was to turn south and do some of the itinerary in reverse.  The small port of Argentia and some historic ruins there, then then Ramea Islands followed by Gros Morne National Park in the north, and finally returning south to the French islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon before resuming our original schedule toward Nova Scotia and eventually New York City on August 25th.

The photo is of port side in Argentia of the ship and one of her moorings.

Written at noon, Sunday, August 17th, 2008.