Storms

This is, as I look back at my first 50 years as a photographer, the best photograph I have ever made. That lightning bolt still explodes in my mind’s eye nearly a quarter-century after it lit up the night on September 19, 1997. At least once more in my lifetime I would like the privilege of photographing a moment as power-packed as this one. I was as charged as the air about me as an enormous storm cloud fired lightning bolts faster than a giant Gatling gun and swept across Lake Michigan toward my vantage point on the Ludington shoreline. I had a crow’s nest view looking west toward Lake Michigan from my Officer of the Day berthing room on the second deck of Coast Guard Station Ludington. An hour earlier, I had been readying to get my boat crew underway for nighttime training aboard Coast Guard Motor Lifeboat 44345 when I spotted what at first glance looked like miniature lightning bolts barely visible dancing across the entire western horizon. We were seeing a thunderstorm hitting Wisconsin and heading our way. We secured the boat for heavy weather with extra lines and secured the station. With our work day done, I retreated to my room and set up my 300-millimeter lens on my tripod, awaiting the advancing tempest. I maintained my visualized composition, never changing the narrow aim of the Nikon N90 camera at the Ludington lighthouse. I had never seen so many lightning bolts in the sky at once. I decided that the odds of capturing one large bolt lighting up the Ludington lighthouse could not be better than now. As the stormfront raced across Lake Michigan at 45 knots, I began taking 30-second time exposures when it was still 30 miles away. The closer the storm came to the Ludington shoreline, the louder, larger and brighter the lightning became. Many bolts were going off during every time exposure shot, but often north or south of the narrow angle of view of my large telephoto lens. I began doubting my decision not to use a wider angle. The super cell of the thunderstorm was less than a half-mile away now. The lightning was revealing a massive thunderhead cloud steamrolling end-over-end right at me. Boom! I jumped for the first time from the concussion. The light was blinding. My camera was recording it. But what did the camera see? And even if there was a big bolt recorded on the Fuji Velvia slide film, was it going to be in a good position relative to the lighthouse? Only time would tell—a lot of time. There was no instant feedback with film. I would have to wait until I was off duty to send the film in and then wait several days more for it to come back. I remember like it was yesterday pulling slide after slide out of the plastic storage box they came back in from the processor and looking at them one by one on my light table with an eight-power loupe. The first slides I reviewed, which were the first shots taken when the storm was further away, quickly turned my excitement into disappointment. The images were not living up to the experience. But the further I dug into the box, the bigger the bolts were, and the more they lit up and colored the sky. Finally, upon pulling out the next to last slide in the box, I saw the image I had visualized making, except far better than I could have ever imagined making of my own accord. I believe God was my guide in capturing this Heaven-sent moment. I named the image “God’s Light.” Post note: Without my knowledge, my wife, Debbie, entered the original “God’s Light” 35-millimeter slide in the 1998 Nikon International Contest. It won third place.

Loving October

My grandpa, Bud Reed, would have turned 93 today. Earlier today we dedicated a sculpture in his honor in the new Veteran's Mall in Stearns Beach in downtown Ludington. I felt my grandpa's presence on the Lake Michigan shoreline as I was making this image. I love this photograph and believe it is one of the best I have ever captured.

Loving October - panoramic

After shooting the lighthouse and waves at lunch and not being completely happy with my shots, I decided to drive through the beach after work and see how it looked for sunset. My son had a home basketball game, and I try not to miss them, but things looked too promising to pass up this opportunity. I could tell that the break in the clouds at the shoreline would allow for magic light to shine through on the waves. Using my car to help block some of the high wind, I set up my camera and tripod and went to work. What an absolutely unbelievable night. Thankfully, I still made it in time to watch David play, so it was a double bonus night.

The sand hitting my face feels like shards of glass as I make my way to the water's edge at Stearns Park to photograph the Ludington North Breakwater Light. The winds over Lake Michigan at times exceed 60 miles per hour. Magic light, white clouds and dark blue sky behind are my backdrop. Now I just need a huge wave. Bingo! F5.6 at 1/1250, ISO 100, 300 mm lens at 300 mm

When the waves are this big and the light and shadow at times this intense, I know to wait longer, watch longer for peak moments of waves and light. I made this image in 1/2500 of a second after looking for this moments for hours.

Gitche Gumee

My grandpa, Bud Reed, always gave a thumbs up as his sign of approval. The last few years of his life, he could not hear very well. The thumbs up was often his way of letting you know he understood what you were trying to say.

My dad and I wait all year for the middle of October. It is our favorite time of year to make photographs in Michigan because the quality of the light is the best. We call it "magic light" when it is raining, but the sun is out. Looking over Lake Michigan, I could see a storm front making its way towards us, so I waited on the beach in Pentwater for over an hour for two minutes of "magic light".

I was in awe of the giant bolts of lightning striking Lake Michigan as I stood on the beach at the end of Ludington Avenue during a fierce September electrical storm. One massive bolt after another came crashing down and I was lucky enough to capture one that split on both sides of the lighthouse. When I downloaded the photo the next day, my dad quickly noticed that the bolt looked like the lower peninsula of Michigan.

Epic Manistee Blast

Magic Light in Manistee

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.

Several times during the 366 Project, Brad and I shot subjects very similar to each other. Tonight takes the cake though. We each shot the Badger, lighthouse and clouds, seconds apart from each other! I was on the south side while he was on the north side of the channel. It wasn’t until we downloaded our files the next day that we realized our photos matched.

I am looking from the deck of my Ludington home at one of the most dramatic skies I have ever seen. These rare mammatus clouds are sweeping ashore behind a storm that rushed through earlier. This is an amazing calm after the storm.

Rain Amaze

I had been in the indoor swimming pool with my kids all afternoon at my dad and stepmom's new condo and not paying attention to the sky. Our employee, Aubry Healy, texted me a cell phone shot she had made up near Onekama of some pretty awesome clouds. I told the kids it was time to go upstairs and get changed. When we got upstairs and looked out over Lake Michigan, my jaw hit the ground and I went into full "storm chaser" mode. I knew I had missed my chances of getting a good shot in Ludington, but I calculated that if I drove down to Little Sable Point Lighthouse near Silver Lake, I might be able to get the shelf cloud over the lighthouse. After a long 30-minute drive, I was in position waiting for the storm and shelf cloud to arrive. Within 15 more minutes, the rolling clouds were upon me. I was on the bright side of the storm so the lighthouse was lit in magic light. I waited until the cloud was in just the right location in relation to the top of the lighthouse and clicked the shutter. My grin was from ear to ear as my heart was racing with excitement. My dad and I live to chase Lake Michigan storms!

Rolling Over Pentwater

Rachel's Birthday Light