Fall

Ludington Lighthouse During Workshop

Always Calling for You

As Brad and I headed to 12 Mile Beach, we decided that I would try out the underwater housing and camera in Lake Superior. I had only ever used it once before, in the Pere Marquette River behind my family farm. That was a lot different than the crashing waves of Superior, especially on a windy, freezing day like today. After donning Brad’s waders, we headed down to the beach. I was so focused on placing the beautiful rocks in the composition, with the waves crashing in on me, that I don’t even remember feeling the cold water! It was a thrilling experience!

Looking to the Skies

During an early morning workshop shoot, my dad and I took 15 students to Little Sable Point Lighthouse. We love being at the lighthouse as the sun rises above the huge wooded sand dunes to the east. The dunes keep the sun from hitting the lighthouse directly for almost thirty minutes after sunrise. Once the sunlight finally arrives, it can be very dramatic. As Galen Rowell would preach, shoot with your camera from the shadows into the light.

Lake Michigan waves colored with sunset afterglow wash ashore near the Second Curve at Ludington State Park, creating ever-changing watercolor artwork. Just as quickly as one of these "wave paintings" appears, it starts to disappear as the wave energy is spent and gravity carries the water back lake-ward. Seeing and capturing these interesting but fleeting patterns of light and shadow is challenging and a good exercise in seeing. Nature does the painting; the photographer's role is to watch, recognize a picture and shoot before the "painting" erases itself.

Ludington Lighthouse During Workshop

Big Sable in Magic Light After Rainbow

Workshop

Lake Superior Storm

The first two weeks of October are a glorious time of year along the Lake Michigan shoreline. For several decades, I have told my photography students more often than they want to hear, “Clouds are your friends.” Early October is a great time to experience sunshine, fresh breeze and crisp, clear air painted with billowy clouds. When these conditions exist, the dune grasses and beaches appear most alive, and so do I! I visualized this image months before making it about 2001 when we lived near Lake Michigan at Crosswinds south of Ludington. My beloved Labrador retriever Beamer and I passed this spot during our daily hikes through the dunes to and from the beach. For several months, this particular stand of dune grass stood out to me from hundreds of others. I wouldn’t let Beamer go near it because I knew it had the makings of a great image; I imagined what the scene would look like in the sharp “magic light” of October. One early October morning, as Beamer and I were passing by this special spot, there it was! Mother Nature had brought all the ingredients together. All I had to do was turn around and take Beamer back home, grab my Nikon F100 and tripod and finish making the photograph. Since I had the image designed in my mind for months, all that was left to do now was fine-tune it artistically and nail it technically. That meant applying years of experience to make certain I made a perfect exposure on the Fuji Velvia transparency film I was using at the time. Almost two decades later, this image remains one of my favorite lakeshore images because it is so experiential for me and others. Brad and I say good photography is all about feeling. I can touch, taste and smell this image. I think a lot of other people feel the same way. The image puts me there; it puts others there.

Among the most amazing nights on Lake Michigan are those when the color in the sky refuses to diminish even when the viewer's mind says it is too dark to be so vivid. I could no longer see the camera controls on this night when the sea and sky turned black and blue.

Wednesday (3585)

The golden light of October in Michigan is a photographer's dream. With dark clouds, brilliant fall color, and magic light, this small sailboat in Sutton's Bay looked picture perfect.

The day was November 10, 1975. It was—and still is—the roughest I have seen Lake Michigan. I was amazed by the 20- to 30-foot waves slamming into the Ludington lighthouse. The roiling sea engulfed the breakwater. Hurricane-force winds made it nearly impossible to stand up. I braced myself against a tree and held the camera as still as I could. Sand blasted me and my Nikon camera. Of course, I could not know that within a few hours, the Great Lakes freighter Edmund Fitzgerald would succumb on Lake Superior to what meteorologists would later describe as the “Perfect Great Lakes Storm.” What I did know without a doubt was this was the fiercest storm to hit the Ludington area shoreline since the Armistice Day Storm of 1940. I knew this storm was more than a match for even the mighty self-righting 44-foot Coast Guard motor lifeboat at Coast Guard Station Ludington. Thank God my shipmates there didn’t have to try to go out that day. The barometer dropped to the second-lowest level ever recorded in Ludington. Even the waves inside the Ludington pierheads appeared mountainous. The breakwater leading to the lighthouse was not even visible because the waves rolling over it were so large and storm surge so great. The waves were so big inside the harbor it was impossible to discern where the submerged breakwater was. This was a day for the history books. It was not the only big story I covered that day as a reporter and photographer for the Ludington Daily News. I had been sent earlier that day to a farm an hour away near Chase, Michigan, where a group of farmers herded their dairy cattle into a massive pit excavated in the middle of a farm field. The farmers surrounded the pit and shot and killed dozens of the cattle to draw national attention to the fact that their cattle and some farm family members were being poisoned by PBB that had been accidentally mixed into cattle feed they had purchased. The slaughter was a gruesome undertaking, carried out in pouring rain. I drove soaking wet back to Ludington. Upon reaching downtown Ludington, just before turning off Ludington Avenue onto Rath Avenue, where the newspaper was located, I could see the mountainous waves on Lake Michigan a half mile west of my location. I didn’t make the turn. Instead I drove straight to the west end of Ludington Avenue, jumped out of my Ford Bronco and began photographing the greatest Great Lakes storm I had ever witnessed. After a half-hour or so, I was too numb to shoot anymore. Incredibly, when I crawled back in my vehicle, I realized the hurricane force wind had blown all my wet clothing dry. I headed straight to the Daily News because I couldn’t wait to develop the 400 ASA Kodak Tri-X black and white film containing my storm shots. I was not anxious to see the cow-killing shots. Give me a great storm to photograph any day!

Flowing Beauty

The highways and byways of the rolling farmlands north of Grand Rapids are one of my favorite places to find beauty. I love the way this field of corn stretches its way to a hilltop woodlot decked out in fall color.

Legends Ranch