Ludington Point to Point

Providing a contrasting backdrop for the heavy snowfall are the hulls of the carferries Spartan (foreground) and Arthur Atkinson, and the Spartan's snow-covered anchor chain.

Bathed in evening light, a sailboat graces the east end of Pentwater Lake. The view is from Long Bridge, which links the opposite shores of the lake.

As another photo hunting day dawned, I was searching along the shores of Hamlin Lake for a winter picture when I spotted a patch of open water. Some Canada geese and mute swans had already found one of the only unfrozen spots on the huge lake.

In stillness, another summer day dawns in Pentwater. The village provides the backdrop for a view of the popular boating harbor from the west shore of Pentwater Lake.

I have photographed dozens of storms with waves as big as or bigger than those I shot during this February 1995 storm, but this image remains one of my favorite storm images because of the wave’s shape, position in relationship to the Ludington lighthouse, position of the seagulls and drama created by the storm light. I consider this image “perfectly poetic.” As my Grandma Reed liked to say about her small but precisely designed and tastefully decorated home: “There is a place for everything, and everything in its place.” I made dozens of exposures on Fuji Velvia film this day, none so perfectly poetic as this one. My youngest son, Willie, and I watched this February storm for hours, capturing photographic moments during lulls in the blizzard. As sunset neared, I prayed for storm light. If this magic light arrived, it would appear shortly before sunset, and only if the sun could find its way through, or beneath, a band of boiling clouds skirting the distant horizon. It is a photographer’s game of hide-and-seek I have played with the sun and clouds thousands of times. I love winning, but experience has taught me that I am more likely to lose or at least not win big. This time, as I had envisioned, sunlight broke from beneath the clouds, backlighting the waves and the lighthouse. Rewarded by the knowledge of what could happen and by perseverance, Willie and I were oblivious to the gale winds pummeling us as we witnessed the magic light and lake’s fury come together against the storm cloud backdrop.

Bass Lake boats bathe in magic light on a September morning. I spotted this scene weeks before making the photograph. The lighting had been ordinary on several wild goose chases to the spot. It is rewarding to finally see the quality of light a particular picture needs. It makes up for the frustration I feel over countless pictures that are in my visual library, but remains only mental images, because the right conditions have not yet appeared in front of my camera lens.

Like a picture out of its past, Big Point Sable Lighthouse keepers' quarters glow with lights, as they did when operated by the Coast Guard until the 1970s. Volunteers now occupy the dwelling, conducting tours and working on maintenance and restoration. Another time exposure of Big Sable Light at night was part of the first photo story I ever shot, for a photography class in college in 1969.

On Guard to guide mariners safely past a treacherous point that juts into Lake Michigan, Big Point Sable Lighthouse has stood the test of time since 1867. The Coast Guard stopped operating the lighthouse in the 1970s. Vandals nearly destroyed the vacant dwelling before volunteers teamed up to begin restoring the tower and keepers' quarters to their original grandeur. Today, Big Sable Light stands as testimony. People with a dream, goal, and willingness to give of their time, talents, and money can accomplish great deeds. Abraham Lincoln, who approved the light's construction, would applaud this achievement.

The Ludington lighthouse draws my eye whenever I am near it. So many times, it offers a spectacular picture but, too often, not quite splendid enough to trip the shutter. One foggy summer morning there was no doubt I should shoot.

The scenic Lakeshore Drive bridge, over the water intake area of the huge Ludington Pumped Storage Hydroelectric Plant, can provide surreal and vast night views. It can be as spectacular as a space scene from a "Star Trek" movie. On this August night, the visual impact of earthly lights and celestial lights over Lake Michigan stunned me as I rushed to find the best vantage point to capture this visual encounter.

The Ludington Dow Chemical plant stands out as it towers over the Pere Marquette River flats south of Ludington. Motorists entering or leaving Ludington by way of Pere Marquette Highway (old U.S. 31) often see the plant framed against dramatic evening skies.

I never tire of watching the carferry Badger sail into Ludington harbor. Of the thousands of times I have seen this grand ship steam into port, this October evening was one of the most spectacular. My wife and I were enjoying dinner at a relative's Crosswinds Estates home, near the harbor mouth, when the Badger and sunset-lit storm clouds approached Ludington simultaneously. Fortunately, I excused myself from the dinner table long enough to shoot as the ship entered the harbor.

I never tire of watching the carferry Badger sail into Ludington harbor. Of the thousands of times I have seen this grand ship steam into port, this October evening was one of the most spectacular. My wife and I were enjoying dinner at a relative's Crosswinds Estates home, near the harbor mouth, when the Badger and sunset-lit storm clouds approached Ludington simultaneously. Fortunately, I excused myself from the dinner table long enough to shoot as the ship entered the harbor.

The carferry Badger makes the turn to head out of Ludington harbor on a summer evening.

This remains one of the most priceless moments I have ever captured with a camera. On an unseasonably cold October day, I saw a flock of sheep marching single-file across a field. I sought permission from Bernal Burke to venture into his Carr Settlement fields. I arrived where the sheep were heading with just enough time to set up my camera. The lead sheep turned sideways, and the next sheep in line followed his lead, setting up a barricade to protect the flock. As they maneuvered, huge snowflakes began to fall. It was the first snow of the season, and the lead sheep did not appear happy. For many years after my camera froze that moment, a framed print of this image usually hung in a prominent spot in our art fair tent. The image caused a lot of laughter as art fair patrons attempted to mimic the lead sheep’s expression and even try to make sheep sounds. It made people happy and brought us some comic relief from our long weekend grind on the Michigan art fair circuit. I will always be grateful to Bernal Burke for being so kind, accommodating and trusting to allow me to roam freely on his land. Besides being a farmer, Bernal served for many years as the Mason County Treasurer. I always admired and respected him when, as a reporter, I covered county government. I admired him as a farmer just as much. I believe we shared mutual respect, which meant the world to me.

The foot of Ferry Street has long been one of my favorite vantage points to look over Ludington harbor. Winter sunrises provide some of the best views. The carferry Badger is at left and the carferry City of Midland (since converted to a barge) at right.

The 45-minute hike to Big Sable Point Lighthouse is rewarding even on those rare occasions when a good picture seems nowhere to be found. On this evening dune grass framed against the twilight provided a still life that stood out even more than the famous lighthouse.

The coldest, clear mornings are among my favorites for viewing and photographing the Ludington waterfront. I found this frosty scene with carferries as a backdrop early one winter morning along the shore of Pere Marquette Lake in Buttersville.

The bold paint job on Big Point Sable Light distinguishes it from other lighthouses along the Lake Michigan coast by day. By night its "fixed white light" shines continuously to enable mariners to distinguish it from other lighthouses in the region whose lights flash at various intervals.

My wife and I watched from a high dune vantage point. We waited, for over two hours, for the sunlight to come into line with the water that was winding its way to Lake Michigan from the Bass Lake Outlet. I liked the resulting picture but looked forward to photographing that S-curve with a sky filled with storm clouds. I returned on such a day only to find winds and waves had swept away the S-curve and left a straighter stream behind.