I didn’t make it to Acadia National Park this year. Next year, perhaps. I’ve been there in summertime, and once I enjoyed a quiet October weekend there as well (from that trip comes this picture of the Bubbles). I’ve never been there in snow season. Have any readers paid a visit to Acadia in the wintertime? I’d love to hear from you. Winter camper, or stayed in town? Snowshoes or cross-country skis? What’s open?
The Bubbles (Acadia National Park), mid-autumn. Ellen Kolb photo.
This is a skill I have yet to master. How can I capture the look of the watercourses I see on my hikes? I experimented with my camera at a brook near my house, and abandoned several shots before I was happy with this one.
Baboosic Brook: 1/10 sec., f/11.2. Fairly close to what I hoped to capture.
I did manage to learn that a fast shutter speed without an adjustment to aperture resulted in a nearly-black photo. Thumbnail only; this one doesn’t deserve a featured spot.
The architecture of fire towers is pretty simple, stark and functional. With the exception of the glorious stone tower at Weeks State Park, they all look pretty much the same, distinguished only by the number of antennae and dishes attached. But oh, the wonderful hikes I’ve had to each one of these towers … with more to come.
Is it mysterious, or just poorly focused?
November, Naticook Lake
I walked to Naticook Lake again this week – a familiar place to me in summer, but I’d never really noticed it in autumn before, so every recent walk there has been a little journey of re-discovery. I came across it in the oddest light late in the day. I saw the last of the colorful leaves floating on the lake, so out came the camera phone for a quick shot. When I reviewed the photo later, there was this muted hazy look. The camera itself was fine; other shots taken that day were sharp as could be. Somehow, I had caught the light on the lake at just the right time for this almost-smudgy look. I used a high-resolution setting, with Auto exposure and no adjustments to white balance. Had there been a macro setting, the shot would probably be clearer, but less interesting IMHO. I deleted a photo of the same scene taken on the “Cloudy” setting, because it imposed an unnatural shade of yellow on everything.
The park has grown quiet with the athletic field no longer humming with youth football, now wrapped up for the season. Too cold for tennis, I guess, since the courts have been empty on my recent visits. I share the lakeshore with only a couple of people at a time, all of us just passing by on our walks, shedding our workdays one step at a time.
Photo by Ellen Kolb, taken at Beaver Brook Wayside, Colebrook NH
I always have a camera with me when I’m hiking, but that doesn’t make me a photographer. I’m just a hiker who likes to document my trips. Most of my photographs fall to the Delete button: badly framed, or out-of-focus, or just-didn’t-work.
This one DID work – and it came about by accident. I was at a lovely little roadside area upstate, setting up to photograph a waterfall. I glanced down, and right in front of me was a stunning butterfly on a stunning flower. I changed gears immediately and went to work with the macro setting on my camera. I probably couldn’t have come up with a better shot if I’d spent a week planning it.
This was an accidental success. What I’d like to learn is how to be successful on purpose. I’m a point-and-shoot kind of hiker, but I know better photos aren’t going to happen unless I put some thought into the process. How can I frame the big scenic shots? How can I control depth of field? Will I ever make the leap from pre-set buttons to manual control?
(And what kind of butterfly did I capture, anyway?)
Nashua River, Autumn
I live in a textured place. Nothing dramatic or showy, but interesting. Hills here, watercourses there, ledge all over the place: it adds up to very few straight roads and not nearly enough bridges for convenience. The Nashua River in southern New Hampshire could use a few more bridges, and if you don’t believe me, try driving through Nashua during rush hour. Hollis, the next town upstream, is a much quieter place. It gets by quite comfortably with one bridge over the river, connecting a small quiet town with a much busier one. There’s something about this bridge, though, that speaks to me less about connection than about rest and pause. I wouldn’t be surprised if someday I saw a sign here saying Don’t be in such a hurry to get from here to there. Stop awhile.
Nearby trails I love: Beaver Brook Association and the Nashua River Rail Trail
Granite State Walker 