Lake Michigan Point to Point

Tranquil summer evenings on the Lake Michigan waterfront lure boats and people like fish to water. This late July evening in Pentwater was no exception. As in so many other favorite locations along the Lake Michigan shoreline, people and their vessels are drawn back year after year like salmon to their birthplaces.

What is there about watching a seagull soar into the sunset that makes us want to trade places, if only for a short flight? I had that feeling one warm, sunny evening while watching this gull fly over Lake Michigan. But I have witnessed the opposite extreme--seagulls hunkering down on ice formations against wind, snow and cold on subzero mornings. Life as a seagull probably is seldom romantic; often it is a fight for survival.

Tranquil summer evenings on the Lake Michigan waterfront lure boats and people like fish to water. This late July evening in Pentwater was no exception. As in so many other favorite locations along the Lake Michigan shoreline, people and their vessels are drawn back year after year like salmon to their birthplaces.

I have always enjoyed taking photographs that may not feature identifiable subjects but show the beautiful colors and patterns that light creates on water. This photograph was taken on the Lake Michigan shoreline at sunset and is one of my favorites.

A fast-response Coast Guard rigid-hull-inflatable boat flies over the water on Lake Michigan off Ludington.

As I hustled to find a vantage point to capture this image, I was struck with an overwhelming sense of calmness. I realized that I was one of only a handful of people at that moment lucky enough to witness the perfect blending of a human creation and God's creation. This was a defining moment in my life when I knew I had found my calling as a photographer.

Like a tank on the water, Coast Guard Motor Lifeboat 44345 pounds through breaking surf. The self-righting rescue boat and her crews aided mariners in distress between Big and Little Sable Points for more than 35 years.

Many of our photographs are long time exposures that are shot on a tripod. We use time exposures because we photograph long after the sun sets below the horizon. This was a thirty second exposure, at F-stop 3.3, and at 100 ISO.

I have been known to do crazy things to get a photograph. On this occasion, I was frustrated because I could not position myself to capture this sailboat and its reflection, yet omit the other boats from the scene. I had two options; climb a tree along side of the road, or stand on the roof of my car. My car still has a large dent in the roof.

Wind contorts my face, waves roar and crash just short of the feet of my tripod, sun gleams and dances across the water, clouds paint the sky. I am in my glory. This is as good as it gets for a Lake Michigan photographer. These are the days I dream about and rarely experience. This mid-September day of 2001 on the Ludington waterfront was one of the best moments of my life. My camera recorded it so I and others can experience it again and again.

Every summer, my mom and family rent a cabin near an inlet on Hamlin Lake named Indian Pete Bayou. All year I look forward to spending time with the family around the camp fire and photographing Hamlin Lake. My family and I have witnessed many great sunsets from this particular spot, but this was one of the best.

Since I was a young child, I have been fascinated by the carferries and other large ships that traffic Ludington Harbor. This statue of a mariner stands tall and proud, very much like the ship captains I have been privileged to know.

Southwester waves rush at the Ludington South Breakwall while others rebound off them, creating confused seas--a condition sailors like to avoid when the waves get this big. Changing colors faster than a chameleon, this sea and sky would soon become blood red.

Heaven knows how many times a God beam has lit the Ludington lighthouse. But when I saw this beauty shining down, I felt its spiritual quality more strongly than any other God beam I have seen before or since. On this calm May day of 1993, I was already underway in my tiny Boston Whaler skiff searching for photo opportunities because of the dramatic clouds. I quickly maneuvered closer to the lighthouse and centered the iconic Ludington landmark beneath the glorious beam. I laid over the low gunwale and fired away for about 20 breathtaking seconds before the clouds and spotlight moved away. As a longtime Lake Michigan mariner, there have been many times during the calmest or stormiest voyages that I have felt God’s presence; this was one of those times. As a longtime photographer, I have learned to better know when I am being presented with an extraordinary view with or without looking through the viewfinder; this was one of those views. The image I was blessed to make that day more than a quarter century ago remains my favorite calm day photograph with the Ludington lighthouse in the scene. In 2007, “God Beam” was selected for the cover of an inspirational book titled Hope: pure and simple. The book features “316 thoughts to lift your soul” by famous Christian author Max Lucado. I was humbled to have an image that means a great deal to me personally grace the cover of Pastor Lucado’s hopeful book.

The Algorail, a frequent visitor to the Ludington harbor, used two powerful spotlights to guide herself quietly into port. I set my camera to 800 ISO in order to stop the ship

The sailboat Condor strikes a gorgeous pose even while high and dry on its cradle for the winter. The sleek ...... ........graces the waterfront of Pentwater, one of Lake Michigan's most picturesque harbors.

For a few precious minutes, the light of the rising sun and the sunlight reflected from the setting moon balance on an April morning along the Lake Michigan shoreline between Ludington and Pentwater. Sunrise beach walks bring me alive as I watch the world about me come to life.

As darkness fell and the lights of Big Sable Lighthouse and the keeper's dwelling emerged, I was certain I was in the best spot to make the strongest picture possible of the famous landmark. I shot several dozen shots over a period of 45 minutes, when the cloud patterns added to the composition of the picture. But it was in the last few minutes of shooting that the electric lights and remaining light in the sky balanced the best. I packed up my gear, shouldered my tripod and strode excitedly down a big dune to meet up with my son Brad, whom I had lost sight of an hour ago. I showed him my "trophy" shot on my digital camera; then he showed me his. It was obvious that his was a Boone and Crocket "trophy" shot compared to mine. I was glad for his greater success but still exhilerated by my own visual experience and capture.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, 1999, I was eager to try out the new camera that my dad had bought me for Christmas. He and I drove to one of our favorite places in the world, Little Point Sable Lighthouse. On the way, it began to snow unbelievably large, soft flakes. As soon as we arrived, I stepped out of the truck, set my camera on the tripod and took this photograph before the snow stopped falling.

The magic light accompanying a rainbow turns dune grass to gold on an October morning along the Lake Michigan shoreline. I have seen this dune on a thousand different days, but none more beautiful.