A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of hanging out at Two Jack Lake in Banff NP for a sunrise.  When I arrived I had the place to myself, but a few other photographers showed up shortly after.  

The lake had started to freeze over and the ice was making incredible noises.  It sounded like spaceships having a laser gun battle IN SPACE! (space space space space) I was hoping I would be able to time my trip to see some frost flowers, and while there were a few clinging to the surface of the ice, they weren't as prominent as I'd hoped they would be.  I did find a rock poking through the ice near the lake shore and decided that would be a much better photo instead.

But there was a problem.

Because the bank of the lake was so close to the rock, I couldn't get my tripod set up low enough. I knew there had to be a way to flip the tripod head around, and I sat down on the bank struggling with the tripod for several minutes while the light continued to get better and better. Meanwhile, the other photographers near by scampered about taking advantage of the reddening sky.  Nervously, I glanced at the other photographers, making sure they hadn't noticed my fumbling about. I wouldn't want to attract attention myself and seem like I don't know what I'm doing.

Finally, I gave up and tried to hand hold the camera, and then things got weird.  Clad in a puffy jacket and snow pants, with my toque falling down over my eyes, I did my best contortionist impression. As someone who has never been able to touch their toes, it was a bit of an ordeal.  Stretching and bending, slipping and falling.  Lying down on the ice, feet kicking out randomly as their tenuous grip on the ice faltered.  At one point I even attempted a belly slide, but if the space was too small to set up a tripod, it was certainly too small for me. Fortunately, the photographers near by averted their eyes during the episode, and most importantly, their cameras pointed away from me so as far as I'm aware, there is no pictorial evidence.  Perhaps it was just as embarrassing for them as it was for me.  On the bright side, I now have a whole new level of respect for the Walrus. They may not be the most graceful creature on the planet, but on that day, they put me to shame.

After giving up hand holding the camera, I eventually found a way to get my tripod to work, it was not ideal, but at that point, it would have to do.

Crack of Dawn

During the whirlwind trip in Iceland, we adhered to a tight schedule.  We studied a map with our drinks every evening, carefully highlighting things to see and do the next day.  By 8 am we were awake, showered, fed and on the road, motoring to the next spot on the map.  However, our schedule was never quite right as there are more than enough distractions along the highway.  One thing I really liked about Iceland was the variety of textures and colours I saw.  Layers of moss and snow, rock and brightly coloured soil and even steam dotted the landscape.  Every so often on our trip around the country, I'd come to a screeching halt in the middle of nowhere and hop out of the car to grab a shot of seemingly nothing - much to the bewilderment of my passengers. 

One day, after spending a few hours tediously passing car after car puttering along the highway in the Northern mountains we arrived at a summit and pulled in to a parking lot to have a peek around.  The light dappled the valley below and I grabbed my telephoto lens and began snapping a few pictures.   One by one, the cars that we had worked so hard to pass began to pull in to the lot, and families began hopping out of their cars for quick family snapshots and then making their way back to their cars.

My Dad and Mr. Bastard looked at me with panic in their eyes, they knew that I could photograph a scene for hours if given the chance but I immediately knew what they were thinking. If we don't leave now, all these cars that we worked so hard to pass will be in front of us again, and we'll have to cut at least one stop out this afternoon.  The three of us rushed back to our vehicle, Dad and Mr. Bastard ran and slid across the hood of the car and climbed into the front yelling at me to hurry up.  I did a triple salchow over a senior citizen and stowed away the pile of camera gear into the cargo area.  The team of NASCAR pit stop dudes re-fueled the car.  Zzziiiiip ziiip went the drills as new, faster tires were placed on the car (do they use drills to change the tires? For the purposes of this post let's just say they do) "Let's Go! Let's Go" I yelled as I dove in to the back seat head first. The dozens of tourists, clad in their baseball caps and holding pitchers of beer cheered us on as we successfully made it out of the parking lot first and on to the next stop.

Iceland Texture III

Iceland Texture II Iceland Texture I   Iceland Texture IV

I don't think I would describe myself as a patient person.  I get annoyed in slow traffic. I try to finish people's sentences. I can't sit still through a movie. Photography is the one thing that might be able to bring out my inner patient person. My inner patient person probably thinks before she speaks and wears hand knit cardigans like Mr. Rogers did.  

After my last trip to Berlin in 2008, and a very rushed and crowded visit to the Brandenburg Gate, I knew that I wanted to photograph the structure at night. That was my goal while we were in Berlin and it took several attempts to achieve it.

The first visit on this particular trip, was 800 degrees C and the place was crawling with tourists... but most importantly it was the middle of the day. The middle of the day, I deduced, is a bad time to try and get night time photos so we continued on our walking tour instead. 

The next day with the help of my Aunt, Mikey and I had gained our bearings around the city and could successfully find the following:

The train station
The bus stop
The record store (because big cities only ever have one right?)
Brandenburg gate 
Our hotel
Several convenience stores from which to procure cheap beer

That was all we needed and we were off. After wandering around all day gathering new music and reveling in the old (we visited the Ramones Museum - so cool!) we finally made it to the gate around dusk. Mikey patiently loitered around, amusing himself by sneaking his way into random tourist group photos while I composed a few photographs, trying to use long exposures to blur out the same tourists.  I had a few photos that I thought I could work with, and we continued on with our evening of walking (so much walking)   
 

Once we were completely exhausted from walking, legs sore, feet aching and blistered, shoes falling apart at the seams, we began tracing our steps back. Not exactly well planned on our part, but we hobbled until we reached the bus stop.   We hopped on the next bus and soon found ourselves....somewhere unfamiliar.  I think it might have been Potsdamer Platz, I'm not 100% sure, but it was a very pretty and colourful place to be lost and so I set up my tripod, dug out my camera, and composed a few shots.  Lost in my own head, I'm not sure what Mikey was doing while I photographed the scene, but I'm assuming he acted responsibly and consulted a map. 

We didn't want to risk taking the bus again...so we retraced the bus route on foot (terrible idea, I still have scars from the blisters) and found ourselves at the Brandenburg gate again. By that time, the square had emptied considerably and I found a place to quickly grab one final shot.  Well.... a few more after that just for insurance. When you're thousands of miles from home, it never hurts to take a few extra just in case.  I like to think that photography makes me a more patient person, but it's more likely that I'm just terribly stubborn and Mikey is the true patient one.

Just below the arctic circle where the sun stays up all night, I too was in the midst of a sleepless night.  The brand new hotel we were in smelled weird, the beds stiff and the thousands of flies outside kept us from opening the window to let in some cool air.  I'd even skipped our nightly tradition of enjoying a drink on whatever patio we could find because the bugs wouldn't leave me alone. It  certainly wasn't the finest evening of our trip.

Sometime around 3 am, after a few hours of tossing and turning, something must have spoke to all three of us.  Mikey woke up, and when Mikey woke up I decided to get out of bed to look out the window and see what was happening in the stark landscape outside.  Unbeknownst to me, my Dad in his own room had woken up as well, and was currently videotaping out his window.  When I pulled back the curtains, I was flabbergasted.  The sky was lit up in a near neon array of pink and orange and golden hues. I had the sense of mind to call Mikey to the window, and by the time he saw why and asked "Are you going now?" I already had a pair of soggy shoes on my feet. 

Used to the quick sunrises in Canada, I grabbed my camera with the telephoto lens still attached to it  from the day before and sprinted out the door. I didn't think to grab anything else.  I ran past the confused looking desk attendant, out the door and then ran away from the parking lot towards the lake across the highway.  I stopped short when I reached the electric fence.  It was meant to keep in the sheep, but it did a fine job of keeping me close to the hotel. I knew the sun rose in Iceland, I just didn't expect to see one for myself at that time of year, and I didn't expect that it would be electrifying in so many different ways.

Not wanting to waste any time finding the end of the fence, I began frantically looking for a composition, no easy feat with the long lens and lack of tripod. I wasn't having much success, and the adrenaline and sleep deprivation clouding my brain were not much help either.  

Outtake from Lake Myvatn

I crawled. I slithered. I ate a bit of fine Icelandic dirt. I bum scooted.  My pajamas coated with a layer of dust and probably more than a few smears of sheep manure and I found what I was looking for.  

Unlike the sunrises I was used to seeing, the sunrise that morning lasted longer than I did.  Exhausted, I went back to the hotel and crawled into bed and the sun didn't sleep, and neither did I, but I was smiling.

With nearly 5000 km of coastline in Iceland, how hard could it possibly be to find a shipwreck?  According to the googles, harder than I thought, but what my search turned up was just as interesting and far easier to reach.

The directions, granted, were akin to finding the great valley in the Land Before Time but instead of going past the rock that looks like a long neck, we were to go past a waterfall and then turn right into the farmers field and follow the "road" until we found what we were looking for.  The road was just a set of reflective markers in a seemingly endless field of black gravel and sand, potholed and twisting unnecessarily through the stark landscape.

Suddenly, we came around a bend into a little valley and it was there in front of us. The wreckage from a US Naval plane crash, left on the beach since 1973. 

I hopped out of the rental car and then chased my Dad out of the range of view before he parked the car.  Back up Dad, no, not that way, no, not that way either what if I want to shoot from that direction too? Back up farther....farther... keep going....  Finally the car was tucked safely out of sight and my Dad begrudgingly made the long trek back into view, on foot this time while I motored around taking pictures like a squirrel on some kind of methamphetamine laced peanut butter. 

The wreckage is not a tourist attraction so we had the entire place to ourselves, which was for the best as I had my hands full chasing Mikey out of the plane, and then chasing my Dad out, and then chasing the both of them away again and again. They were all too eager to crawl around inside, poke around outside and busy themselves exploring the wreckage while I busied myself with the camera.  

My Dad peering out of the Wreckage

Despite all the amazing natural sights to see in Iceland, this was the one place I had on my list of "must see" when we visited Iceland and I was sure happy we made it.  Even Mikey and Dad admitted that the photo-related detour I made them take was actually cool for once. 

Iceland.

I made it to Iceland.

We made it to the Vik area early, and spent the afternoon exploring the Dyrholaey peninsula and when I say exploring, I mean putting our feet in every nook and cranny we discovered.  Mikey and I spent several hours bounding up the cliff, down to the ocean, up the cliff again, over to the other side of the cliff, down to the ocean.  A puffin on those cliffs over there, a seal in the water over there, look at the waves in this spot and on and on.

After Dyrholaey had no stone left without inspection, we ventured a few minutes up the road closer to Vik and Mikey and I ran up the beach again. We were treated to basalt columns, caves and pounding waves.  Mikey scrambled through a little tunnel in between waves and after a bit of convincing, I followed and was treated to a different view of the famous Vik spires.  I credit Mikey for talking me in to taking a slight risk going through the tunnel,  it's one thing to get swept away to sea, but it's another thing entirely to ruin a perfectly good set of camera equipment in the process.

The next morning I woke up early and trotted away from the cozy little cabins we were staying in and into the fog. I stopped at a gas station for some coffee and learned that it was free. Free! A rarity in Iceland as far as I could tell.  With a smile on my face I made my way through the black sand, closer to the spires.  I had been envisioning a photo of my bright yellow Rubber Duck against the black sand for months, and the conditions were absolutely perfect that morning.  The combination of the black sand and fog made the scene before me moody and mysterious.  The town still save for the crashing waves at my feet. 

I set my coffee down in the sand a respectable distance to the water and then proceeded to play wave roulette with my last pair of dry pants and shoes.  I lost. Several times.  It was worth every second to have those introspective hours by the water in the quiet morning. I left a big part of my heart buried in the black sand beach outside the sleepy town of Vik and I intend to go back and retrieve it as soon as I'm able.

I have been a bad blogger.  I'm still around and I have lots of fun stories to tell of punk rock folk singers, Akavit shots, CD Release parties, Recording albums and mountain adventures.  But with a nice long trip to Iceland & Denmark around the corner (I'm beyond excited) and a ton of editing to catch up on before I leave, the stories will have to wait until I return.

Have a wonderful summer friends, I'll be out enjoying all the sunshine while it lasts. There will be plenty of time for blogging when it's cold.

One year ago, I was underneath a bridge by the Calgary Stampede grounds, photographing the river which had been steadily rising throughout the day.  The water was moving fast and nearing the top of the banks, but it didn't look too bad. There was talk of flooding, but I paid no attention to it, even if it did flood, it probably wouldn't be catastrophic. That kind of thing doesn't happen here.

A quick check on facebook revealed a different story, as a friend and fellow band mate who lived near by had a status update about being evacuated. Weird, I thought, but knowing that she does not drive, I called her up to ask if she needed a ride.  She said yes, and within 10 minutes I was in her apartment staring at a very bewildered and panicked young woman.  She was standing still in the middle of her living room, wildly looking around her saying "What am I supposed to do?"   We gathered up some essentials for both her and her cat, tucked away her valuables and set off to some friends to house her and her cat in the very north part of the city. It was when we were driving over the Bow river near Bowness park, with the emergency broadcast system blaring on in the background, that the seriousness of the situation began to set in.  The park was already under water and with the river estimated to continue rising for another 12 hours I decided that I would have to document as much as I could.  Armed with a camera and a rubber duck, these are some of the photos I captured over the next 48 hours.

I know this isn't the greatest photo, hand held with a long shutter speed while furiously battling mosquitoes, but the power of the river behind them really shows.  Within a few minutes of them passing by, the path was under water.

Working through the night to build a berm

A crowd gathers on top of the hill to watch the river. 

5 am June 21, the City is eerily silent. 

Lake living.

5 am June 21, city workers gather to see how the berm they spent the night building holds up.

Centre Street bridge.

A family in Bowness left new teddy bears for the kids who may have lost theirs.  The writing in the window says I <3 Bowness

Today, many Southern Albertans are still dealing with the damage, and there are still families unable to return to their homes. 

I'll be perfectly honest with you, until the last time the Calgary Beer Core brought in Authority Zero to play a show last autumn, I'd never even heard of the group.  Evidently I had been living under a rock, judging by the size and frenetic energy of the crowd that showed up to see them play.  I was pleasantly surprised not only by the energy of the crowd but the band itself, so when the Beer Core brought the group in again last month, I was really looking forward to photographing the event once again.

The entire evening did not disappoint with local heavy-weights Black Earth, The Press Gang  & Torches to Triggers opening the night, but the show really got started once Authority Zero took the stage, bringing everyone to the front of the room for a solid hour and a half of music.  Everyone from the youngest punks to the sweetest elderly lady, who out-danced and out-smiled everyone in the room and put us all to shame.

I have been slowly dialing in my Tamron 11-16mm 2.8 lens, and while it's not quite adjusted the way I would like yet, it's sure fun to play with at gigs.  I shot the entire evening with my current trifecta including the new Tamron, my trusty go-to Nikon 35mm 1.8 and the 55-200 mm 3.5-5.6, which handles surprisingly well at gigs.

Here's a few of my favourite shots from the evening.

The full gallery can be viewed here

Some of you might remember the Moosehole story last year, and the odd dream leading up to it. I dreamed that I had a little Fox mocking me while I floundered in the water and drenched my camera at my chosen location. That morning as I was driving to the location I had a coyote (very similar to a fox) trotting along on the road ahead of me for quite a distance, and I took that as a sign to stay out of the water. What ended up happening, is not a wet camera, but a very close call with a moose instead (who are big mean bullies who will trample you for the hell of it) Luckily I got away unscathed, but it scarred me a bit and I got a little doggy companion to join me on my adventures and warn me of mooseholes in the future.

Well, this morning I was set to go on another sunrise shoot, and last night I dreamed of running into a grizzly bear in the brush at my chosen destination. Just like last time, I took that as an omen and went to a location that had no brush, it was a field right near two highways, ample room to spot a bear in time. As I was leaving the city, once again a coyote crossed my path, this one with a dead rabbit in its mouth, and though I remembered the last time that happened, I didn't pay much attention since clearly, I do not believe in superstitions (though my Native friend has suggested I may have found my spirit animal)

Long story short, I didn't get too many photos this morning, little Creepy-dog spotted another dog to play with and bolted, yanking the leash away from me. That big dog ran away from her for a bit, farther away from me, and before I knew it, there were four big dogs viciously attacking Creepy. I ran towards the dogs but with nothing to protect myself or stop them, I turned back, ran to the truck and grabbed my air horn. The horn did nothing to deter the dogs, so I sprinted back to my bag and then back to the truck, trying desperately to get my bear spray off it's hook. I couldn't (note to self, that system doesn't work in a panic) so I drove as close to the mauling dogs as I could and laid on my truck horn. That didn't stop them either, and I thought that would be the end of Creepy. 

Somehow, she survived the mauling, broke loose and got back into my truck and we sped (oh, and how) on my horribly bald tires back to the city.

She's currently in surgery now, lots of bad bites and possibly some internal damage but the Surgeon has been called in and we're waiting for word back on how she does later this afternoon.

So, keep this little Bastard family in your thoughts today, none of us are doing too well at the moment. 

And next time a coyote crosses my path on the way to a photo shoot, I think I'll just become superstitious no matter how stupid I may feel about it, turn around and go back to bed.