Tag Archives: Russian

Quartering Into The Rising Sun

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It was a brisk frosty morning at Bosque del Apache when the sun got to the point where  the Snow geese began to rise up into the air and head for their feeding grounds. Brisk was nearly a misnomer as brisk was about 27-28 degrees with a wind coming out of the Southeast at about 25 miles per hour. This probably felt like a mild spring day for the Snow geese but it felt pretty damn brisk for the photographers. Hiking or jogging or moving quickly in these conditions lessened the feeling of being cold, but standing in one place not moving, waiting for the action to start so you could go to work, was what some might call a miserable experience.

They say that you need to dress for the cold in order to be comfortable in conditions like this. Wearing both your 800 count down coats, and sorrels stuffed with heating pads and a hat a Russian would be proud to wear, made it just possible to stand out there for the two or three hours needed to catch the morning flight schedule of the Snow geese and the Sandhill cranes. Drinking several thermos’ of boiling hot tea helped a little. There was many a longing glance cast back at the vehicle with its heater and the promise of warmth, but the deal was you needed to stand there because even if you so much as looked away at the wrong moment you could miss the shot of the trip. Yes we know there is a certain amount of masochism involved in this profession. Yes we know we brought this on ourselves, yes we know that all you had to do was turn around and walk back to the truck and this would all be over. But that would be like a Seal candidate ringing the bell. It meant failure and for those diehards among us, that is not acceptable. So we stamp our feet, bitch to each other about how cold it is, and curse the birds for not hurrying this business up, and then it happens.

One by one the Sandhills take off, then the Snow geese rise en masse with a fluttering roar as thousands of wings beat together lifting them skyward, their calls to each other a deafening cacophony of sound, and just like that the big part of the business of shooting them is over. That’s when the newbies, and those who came for just that portion of the morning flight pack up and gratefully head to the warmth of their vehicles. There is usually some good-hearted banter between those that are leaving and the few of us that stay for that extra shot or two. “What, You didn’t get enough pictures yet?” “Cold enough?” “Forget where your car is?” “Feet froze to the ground?” Um, it’s over, dude, go home.” “I’m going for breakfast, Eggs, potatoes, sausage and bacon, some toast and really hot coffee. What are you going to do?”

But you been here before and this isn’t your first rodeo. You know that some of the best shots of all are still possible as the stragglers leave, one by one. The light is still good. Better in fact for the kind of shots left to take. Like this one of a lone Snow goose quartering into the rising sun as it hurries to catch up with its flock. The sun hits it full on, making the white feathers on its head and breast glow in the early morning light. Showing the single-minded determination to do what it was born to do. A perfect example of the grace and power of its species.

Now you can go back to the truck. Now you can turn the heater up to the fattest part of the red line that says hot. And you can go find that last guy who taunted you with breakfast. Maybe you can even talk into buying or you’ll tell everyone what a wimp he was for leaving early.

Monument Valley

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This is Monument valley at 6 in the morning. It is cold here even though it is late April. You need a heavy coat and gloves and if you have a bald head like some of us you need a hat. Preferably one of those Russian kind made out of polar bear-wolf hybrids with ear flaps you can tie around your belt loops so the wind doesn’t blow it off. We didn’t need the tie downs this day as there was no wind. You also need lots of determination to stand out here waiting for the sun to come up.

It seems twice as cold as it is when you’re waiting. Stamping your feet helps some. Shivering is good. But what really saves the day is a hot thermos of strong black tea. No sugar, no milk, black as my last wife’s heart, as they say around the campfire at divorce school. That’s what gets you through the waiting, that and the thought of how gorgeous it’s going to be in a few minutes.

Everyone has seen pictures of Monument valley’s butte’s and spires, the colossal towers and the long views down the valley from John Ford’s point. They are the reasons many people come here, but there are other smaller views that are just as captivating. This one for instance.

Back behind the Totem pole and Yei Bi Chei is a place that is off-limits to visitors unless you have a guide. My guide whose Navajo name loosely translates to “Looks In My Wallet”, no I’m kidding, it actually means “Reaches Into My Wallet”, no, wait, I’m kidding again, it actually means Ed, brought me to a perfect spot to watch the sun come up behind the Totem pole. Behind where we had set up the camera gear was this dune and overhead our timekeeper the moon moving across the sky, clearing it of any obstacles that may hinder the sun’s passage. Ed said he liked this spot not only for the view of the sunrise, but if the wind was blowing which it does with startling frequency here in the valley, it was a protected place. The way he said it, in that low Indian voice made it sound much wiser than it really was. That’s one of the reasons you need a guide, you’d never figure that out on your own.

Ed was an interesting guy in his own right. He has been a stuntman in the movies, riding horses, falling off of them, “you don’t need much training for that ” he said, an extra in many of them, a guide around the valley and a sought after one at that, as he photographs the valley himself and knows all the good spots. He also tends to have a store of helpful tips for the visiting photographer. “When you fall and roll down the dune try not to get sand up your nose” was one of his favorites. “Don’t touch that it’s poisonous” was another. He said this even if what you were touching was actually poisonous or not. All in all he was a good guide and we weren’t lost for very long anyway. “An Adventure” he said, “to  tell your grandchildren.” I don’t think we were lost, I just think he liked to see me carry 40 lbs. of gear through ankle-deep sand.

But the places we went were worth every moment of Ed’s wit. I remember this one the most because it seemed to be more about the desert than all the daytime shots of the monuments and far-reaching vistas put together. As there was no wind the silence was complete, except maybe for Ed’s wheezing, and the far off calling of a raven waking up, and the colors, the colors were something you had to experience. They began to form out of the darkness and became richer and more intense as the sky lightened. The deep nearly mahogany color of the sand against that impossibly blue sky. The yellow highlights on the Rabbit brush just becoming visible and of course the moon, impossibly white against the background of the heavens. This is why one becomes a photographer. For the image of course but also for the memories. And maybe for the chance of a brief visit with Ed. No, it’s the memories.