Standing on the fringes of a millionaire’s mansion, we looked out over the city. Mount Hood stood across from us on the horizon, acting as a counterpoint for the rising September moon.
I admit it. I live in one of the more picturesque parts of the country.
So when a chance to do a photography workshop in the neighborhood popped up, it seemed like a no lose scenario. In addition to enjoying some of my favorite spots once again, it gave me a chance to share them with folks who by definition are big fans of beautiful landscapes. We gave ’em a taste of the region on the first day with a trip to Mount Hood, stopping at Timberline Lodge, and Trillium Lake.
Where did we go for day two of the workshop?
And as the day’s light softened and prepared for another evening’s slumber, we sat along the edge of a lake, waiting to see how that light would reflect upon the mountain.
What do you do when on a “vacation” dedicated explicitly to photography?
Folks who’ve been reading my blog for the last eight months might get the impression I spend my life globe-trotting. The reality is less glamorous; I milk two or three weeks of travel into months of blog posts. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t interesting worlds to see all those other weeks. Today we’ll look at one of those worlds – found in my backyard.
Quietly, I waited without a move. The next attack on the castle walls was imminent, but I didn’t know exactly when it would be. Locked and loaded, I aimed and was ready to fire.
Bouncing over the waves on the open sea near Grand Turk Island, the bow of the small powerboat caught one wave flush and dumped it on my head. This may not seem like the opening salvo of a happily memorable excursion, but it was.
Swimming along the wall, in the dark, the senses are focused, attuned to different things. The feel of the water seemed almost warmer. Colors seemed brighter. And somehow, way off in the distance, I heard something special.
Sometimes shrieks, sometimes croons, sometimes a sub-harmonic bass you could almost feel more than hear. There be whale song – the soul of the ocean.
I hang suspended, hovering, 30 feet high. Although the temperature is warm, in the 80s, the ground looks as if it’s covered in snow.
It was a chilly February night, and the crowds had only begun to show up. The Portland Winter Light Festival was the draw and with a messy snowstorm in the forecast, this night was prime to be popular.