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I love my hometown. I love Ludington's many community events but none is more spectacular than the New Year's Eve ball drop in the center of downtown. I have photographed it from many vantage points but nothing gives a better sense of being there than immersing myself and my camera in the middle of the thousands of spectators.

Rochester is so lit up for the holidays this December night that it looks like Las Vegas has come to small town Michigan. I have driven about 250 miles and then have waited several hours to take in this unimaginable view. My camera and tripod are mounted on the top of my pickup truck. I use my remote trigger to open the shutter to begin a long exposure that will record the movement of taillights and headlights traveling the main street of this bustling business district.

A family looks in a Rochester store window display to appreciate how beautifully Home Bakery has recreated a scene from the movie Frozen. Home Bakery certainly looks "sweet" from my vantage point.

Ludington Lighthouse

Haig's Fine Jewelry in Rochester is dazzling customers this evening with more than its jewelry. Thousands of holiday lights shine like jewels on the outside of the store while Santa appears to be taking off from the rooftop. I am impressed with Haig's and all the downtown businesses of Rochester that have banded together to present one of Michigan's most impressive holiday light displays.

Ludington Lighthouse

Ludington Lighthouse with an insane sunset

Ludington Lighthouse

Ludington Lighthouse

There was no doubt in my mind that my son Brad was in heaven shooting ice sculptures created by mineral-colored water running down and seeping through the rocky cliffs of Grand Island. The massive ice walls that created this cave extended more than 100 feet up the rocky cliff walls. We were experiencing beauty beyond belief after hiking about a mile across ice-covered Lake Superior at the mouth of Munising Bay, a bay frozen solid by one of the coldest winters in decades. This “Don’t do this at home” expedition in March 2014 still stands as one of my most exhilarating, rewarding and memorable photography shoots. I am grateful to God for safe passage for Brad and me and three friends from the Charlevoix Camera Club, safe shooting inside the ice caves and for the beauty we found there. Upon our arrival at the island, Brad, Mike Schlitt, Bill Dietrich, Wally Barkley and I each went exploring various caves on our own, and we all came away with wonderful images; how could we not have since the sights we were privileged to be witnessing were so incredible—and incredibly challenging to reach. As harsh as Michigan Upper Peninsula winters always are, it takes an unusually long stretch of frigid weather for there to be enough ice to get to and from the island. Authorities and a couple of longtime local ice fishermen advised us against trying, but a local photographer and a local outdoorsman who had trekked there in past years said that if ever there was a good time, this was it. Several photographers had posted images from the Grand Island caves on Facebook a week earlier, but there had been a short warmup after that. The good news was that the thermometer had plummeted for the past several days prior to our arrival. Having been a certified ice rescuer in the Coast Guard, I understood the risk involved. A shift in the wind could quickly create open water gaps in the ice. Currents coming in and out of Munising Bay might have created or could create weak spots in the ice. I kept in mind the number one rule of ice rescue that I was taught in the Coast Guard: “No ice is safe ice.” I knew that if we got in trouble in this remote location, professional rescuers were most likely going to be far away and a long time coming. Survival time in the ice-cold waters of Lake Superior in winter would be short. We had prepared for the worst before leaving home. We brought a large, light ice fishing sled with two long quick-release lines attached to us to pull it with while staying far apart. This kept us linked to the sled and each other in case one or the other went in. We wore our life jackets snugged tight for extra hypothermia protection. We secured dry bags to the sled with dry clothing inside. I carried a rescue heaving line throw bag. Fortunately, we were able to accomplish our photographers’ bucket list mission without incident or need for rescue gear. There was comfort and wisdom in following the Coast Guard motto of being “Always Ready.”

Two nights ago, was beautiful along the Lake Michigan shoreline. The intense sunset, high winds, and big waves filled me with adrenaline. On my forth shot, everything came together just the way I had pre-visualized.

Arctic Ludington

Two nights ago, was beautiful along the Lake Michigan shoreline. The intense sunset, high winds, and big waves filled me with adrenaline. On my forth shot, everything came together just the way I had pre-visualized. Nikon D810. F16 at 1/320, ISO 800. 70-200mm lens at 185mm. On a tripod without a flash. January 17, 2018 at 5:32pm.

I cannot imagine the gates of Heaven being more beautiful than this. I was exploring an ice cave at Grand Island on Lake Superior when I worked my way through a maze of ice formations and came face to face with what looked to me like an open doorway so splendid only God and nature could create it. This, for me, was truly a spiritual experience.

Wednesday

Perched

Todd Reed

Ludington State Park

I hunt. I hunt deer. I hunt them with rifle, bow or camera. I am proud to be each kind of deer hunter. My love affair with deer hunting began when I was a child watching my parents getting geared up to go deer hunting, then anxiously waiting for them to get back home, hopefully with a buck. I loved hearing the stories of the hunts. I couldn’t wait to turn 14, the minimum legal age for deer hunting when I was a boy. The various youth hunts of recent years did not exist then, but when I was 12, my parents started to allow me to come along on their hunting expeditions in the sand dune area of what is now the Nordhouse Dunes Federal Wilderness. My family hunted from dawn to dark. Most of our time was spent sitting alone in fox holes with small charcoal fires in five-pound coffee cans to keep us from freezing to death. It was a great training ground for outdoor photography, which in my early years of hunting I had no idea I would become interested in someday. In between the fleeting moments of adrenaline rush upon spotting a deer and perhaps attempting to bag it, I spent untold hours perched high atop a sand dune taking in and learning to know and appreciate the spectacular dune landscape surrounding me for as far as the eye could see. The deer hunting quest, the incredible view, and even the fresh air ramming into my lungs made me feel most alive. Some of the greatest adrenaline rushes of my life have continued to involve stalking deer with rifle, bow or camera. But my greatest joy in hunting has derived from simply being in the outdoors, studying the landscape, learning to better see and appreciate its beauty, learning to be prepared, comfortable and at home there, having Mother Nature remind me time after time that this is where I belonged and still belong. In recent years, I have enjoyed spending a lot of time in hunting blinds with my camera. For the past several years, Brad and I have been blessed to have a wonderful business/friendship relationship with Legends Ranch near Bitely, Michigan, one of the finest whitetail deer hunting ranches in North America. Manager Robert Sergi and his highly skilled staff have treated us like family, giving us widespread access to their more than 2,000 acres of hunting land. My son Brad and I knew exactly which blind we wanted to be in on this Christmas card morning in 2016. The pine background of Strip Blind provided a beautiful, contrasting background for the falling snow. If a deer came out close enough, it would be framed against the contrasting snow on the ground. We saw several bucks that morning, a couple of them with much larger racks. Brad was photographing a massive buck to our right when I spotted a buck with a smaller but picture-perfect rack coming out from our left only 30 yards away. The shot I had been making in my mind for many years was materializing. Perhaps scenting us or hearing Brad’s shutter fire as he photographed the other buck, the wary buck stopped, looking in our direction. I fired. My “Legendary” experience making the wintertime deer photograph of my dreams was made. The buck walked on.

Todd Reed