Spring Thaw

Winter started its annual retreat around here about a week ago. And with it the ice on the lake began to break up and move out. Open patches of water appeared and the ice volcanoes shrank a bit. And blue skies - something we haven’t seen much of this winter. But weather changes quickly, as I recently experienced. These images were taken over a five-day period, in different light, in areas close to where I live. All were taken around water and ice that changed on a daily basis.

A large piece of driftwood sitting close to the beach in the open water. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Just five days later strong winds, high waves and cold weather brought in more ice and water and that large log was buried once more.

Looking out from the shore, a close up the ice volcanoes. The white bands, and soft edges on some of the ice is due to the combination of moving ice and a two minute shutter speed.

The change in weather also affected the river cut. Completely open just a few days ago, it’s full of ice once more. It won’t last long, the warmer weather will quickly melt it, but for now this is what we have.

Driftwood comes and goes. It’s been in the water - sometimes already on the beach, often coming in with the winds. But those trees are no longer alive and the harsh weather can’t hurt them. But this small tree, once on the beach, is now surrounded by water and lots of wind. Will it survive? I hope so.

The living trees growing near the edge of the lake face harsh weather in the winter and early spring. Ice builds up on the branches, melts, and builds up again. Yet the trees somehow survive. I find their resilience - and their beauty - comforting.

I’m captivated by driftwood. Once living trees, possibly part of a forest, transported from parts unknown, they now appear as natural sculptures, formed by time, wind and water. Their shapes and textures are remarkable.

There was a lot of ice at Grand Bend this year. It is starting to melt but it will take time and some warmer weather before it’s all gone. But people are already there, watching the ice recede, and looking forward to the summer that’s not too far off now.

Weather changes everything. The light makes a difference, as does the wind. And ice - well that’s a whole story on its own. Ice is powerful, it moves whatever’s in its path And when it leaves, what’s left behind is different than what was there before.

The Beauty of Winter

I tend to like winter. Not the cold I must admit, but the beautiful soft light and pastel colours that make up the winter palette. Images taken then can be peaceful, minimalist, quiet. And now this winter’s nearly over. It’s been a dull one, grey most of the time, not a lot of snow to brighten things up and lots of ice. The combination meant there were fewer days with good light and many days when it was simply too treacherous underfoot to be wandering around. So not as much photography as I would have liked.

But there were a few good days, and there’s always beauty when I search it out.

I’ve photographed these wooden posts many times in just about every kind of weather. But I think these images, taken in January, are my favourite. Ice and sleet from the day before had “dressed” the posts in beautiful layers of ice, the wind had twirled and shaped the water as it froze, curling it around the posts, and the icicles had not yet melted or broken off. I took some shots at normal exposures and then made long exposure images which changed both the look and mood dramatically.

My imagination gives stories to these images. The two posts, side by side, seem intimate to me. I can think of them as “sisters” or as a “couple”. They are beautiful. They are “dressed up”; they stand proud. The simplicity and elegance enchants me and I am transported.

And what about that “No Parking” sign. It looks strange, out of place in that environment, but there it is and I quite like it.

A few days ago the ice on the lake started to melt. Winter is coming to a close. The ice volcanoes are still there but there’s also some open water. Another week and the ice will be gone, some driftwood will become visible and the lake will look different again.

Away from the lake, a couple of days ago I took a walk through a nearby forest. Different in winter but still beautiful. The last of the ice still lies in patches on the path ahead.

Just off the pathway a small body of ice lay in a shallow area. Looking closer, leaves under the thin sheets of ice created abstract images of shape, pattern and colour. The frozen bubbles were mesmerizing. So many images there.

Time stopped. I became completely absorbed in the beauty around me and in the joy of trying to capture what I saw.

Winter is nearly over. These kinds of images won’t be possible for another year. But two days ago I saw a group of tundra swans passing overhead and heard their loud unique sound - a sure sign of spring. And with the warmer weather and the start of a new season there will be other beautiful subjects to enjoy and photograph. Our world feels harsh these days, but seeing all the beauty there is in the world does much to soften that.

Driftwood: A Story of Trees, Water, Storms and Time

This winter was long and harsh, with high winds and big storms.  Lake Huron froze early and stayed frozen until March.  Once the ice left an unusual amount of driftwood remained on the beaches and in the water.  Where did it come from?  How far had it travelled?  Impossible to know.

This image was taken on May 9, a half-hour before sunset.  Most of the driftwood had been returned to the water and the smaller pieces picked up by people walking the beach.

Three weeks earlier this is what that same beach looked like.  The large tree in the water is constantly tossed and turned by the waves, and the rest of the wood and debris has mostly disappeared.

Late in the evening, a silver shimmering lake and a log sculpted by water, wind and time.

The same scene, taken with a longer exposure.  The first a "natural" representation, the one below created to smooth the lake and sky and give a more serene and minimalist look.  To my eye both images work.

A different beach, again photographed late in the day.  The evenings have been cloudy with storms ever present on the horizon.  The light is hard to catch.

A closer shot of the three logs, buried in sand under the water, and projecting up.  Hard to know how long they'll keep their positions before the sand shifts or the next storm takes them out.

The logs, despite their weight, are hurled together by water and wind, ending up as interlocked forms.  To lift these logs is impossible; only the changing water levels, pushed by winds and storms, can toss them around and shift the configuration.

White, smooth, and sculpted - and now mostly out of the water - this lovely piece still decorates the beach, hopefully for some time.

Again late on another evening when the skies were dark and a storm threatened.  

Over the three weeks that these images were taken the beach has changed.  The large logs are still there, heavy and hard to move; the smaller pieces are scattered or gone.  The opportunity to find and photograph these natural sculptures is probably over for this year but I'll keep on looking. As always, I am awed by the beauty of the world around me.  And grateful to be able to photograph it.

The Port Huron Float Down

This is an annual event that's been taking place on the third Sunday in August for 39 years.  It starts in Port Huron, at Lighthouse Beach, just north of the Blue Water Bridge and across the river from Sarnia.  Participants "float down" the St. Clair River to Marysville, 13 kilometres downstream.

It's unauthorized, unsanctioned, unregistered, unsponsored, and gets the media and some people agitated.  But it's a lot of fun.  A boisterous and joyful event - playful, quirky and over the top in its sense of delight and adventure.

So what exactly happens in a "float down"?  Vast numbers of people gather on the shore at Lighthouse Beach with an amazing array of flotation devices.  All sizes, shapes and colours.  Some floating alone, others tied together in a group.  And smaller groups enter the water on the Sarnia side.  The participants are happy, laughing, busy putting their flotation devices in the water, loading their coolers on board (food and drink a necessary part of any serious adventure), and getting their oars in place.

Gathering at Lighthouse Beach in Port Huron

Getting organized on the Sarnia side

The event starts at 1:00 p.m.  All motorized shipping and boating traffic along the St. Clair River is shut down between 12:00 and 8:00 p.m. which is annoying to some.  The only motorized boats permitted are those belonging to the Police and the Canadian and U.S. Coast Guards.  This tanker, the Radcliffe R. Latimer, was the last one under the Blue Water Bridge, pushing hard to get out of the river and into Lake Huron on time.

Full steam ahead into Lake Huron

Getting a helpful tow from the Police

Well equipped with a barbecue on board 

Looking back at Lake Huron

Recording his adventure - at least the start of it.

Floating on the Canadian side ... 

 ... and strung together

Moving down the river on the American side

In our excessively monitored, regulated and rule-driven world of today I find the whole thing wonderfully refreshing.  Where else can  you see thousands of people in hundreds of brightly-coloured flotation devices doing something as bizarre as floating down a fast-moving river that is also the boundary between two countries?  Just thinking about it lifts my spirit.

But the river does move quickly.  And the prevailing winds tend to push the floaters over to the Canadian side.  In most years a hundred or so American citizens end up on the Canadian side, usually without a passport or any other identification, with no way to get back.  They have to be "rescued" and transported back to their own country.  This year the winds were unusually strong and a record 1,500 needed "relocation assistance", being bussed back home with a police escort after being "processed" on the Canadian side.  It does take effort and resources but, as everyone knows, we're a friendly country and happy to help out. 

It was a great day.  Good weather, blue skies with lots of beautiful August clouds, and the always incredible blue water of Lake Huron.  Just a bit too much wind.  A scene of wondrous adult play.  Perhaps it is foolish, and probably a bit risky, but there were no fatalities, just a few minor injuries, and some participants who ended up cold and wet on the wrong side of the river.  But in a world that at the moment is darker, nastier, and more fear-based than anyone needs, the Port Huron Float Down is a happy, joyful and playful event.  We could use more of them.  I'm already looking forward to next year.

The Challenge of Summer Photography

A hot summer.  Mid 30's most days.  Beyond a couple of fierce and impressive thunderstorms in early spring there's been little rain.  The light is harsh and contrasty.  Sunrise is early, sunset so late, and lots of strong unappealing light in between.  Those beautiful intense greens of spring are gone and most vegetation is dry and dusty; in full leaf but no longer fresh and vibrant.  The lake is high, higher than it's been in years and there's little beach.  The kettles at Kettle Point are completely under water and the loss is deeply felt.  Perfect weather for camping or cottage life, or even being at home enjoying food on the patio with friends.  But not so good for photography.

I haven't taken many images this past month.  The camera hasn't been out much.  The beach I love - wild, empty, with loud crashing waves - is now decked out for summer.  Loads of people, each group using umbrellas and beach chairs to lay claim to their staked out piece of sand.  Boats and Sea-Doos racing across the water at full throttle, making a different kind of lake noise.  But it's summer and this is a beautiful beach:  sandy, shallow for a long way out, safe, clean, with waves for the kids to jump and play in.  People love to be here.  And that's a good thing.

I walk the beach often but in summer I seldom take a camera.  But today it came with me.  The beach is narrow, much of the dunes have been washed away, but there were clouds in the sky that  made for interesting lighting.  So I took some images, letting myself get lost in the place and the moment.

The Dunes of Ipperwash Beach

Old Log Pushed up on the Dunes

Tall Grasses at the edge of the Lake

Summer Clouds and Children Playing in the Lake

Dune Grasses and Trees seen from the Lake

I was waiting for a sunset shot to fill out the day but as it often does the sun got lost in cloud in its final hour.  A group of people were still playing in the water and the sky and lake were interesting shades of blue and pink so I took the shot.  A different kind of beauty.

Last Light on the Lake

It's harder for me to find the beauty I search for during the summer months.  It doesn't mean it isn't there.  I simply have to look for it in a different way.  

First the Afternoon and then the Evening

Morning and evening light are usually the most striking but in winter it's possible to get lovely images even at mid-day.  Winter light is softer, more delicate, less contrasty.  My son was visiting and he wanted to get out and take some photographs so we headed out just after lunch.  That's not a time I'd normally think to get out with my camera but I was pleasantly surprised.  Our first shots were of thin ice on the lake that I found quite striking.  

Ice and Snow-Covered Rocks on Lake Huron

At the Edge of the Lake

We travelled on to Sarnia, stopping in Bright's Grove to see what the lake looked like from there. Lots of moving floes of ice along the shore, and a nice contrast between the sky, water and trees.

Lake Huron through the Trees

From there on to Sarnia to see the ice moving from Lake Huron into the mouth of the St. Clair River.  The river flow is fast and the ice moves quickly.  The lighthouse and buildings on the American side of the river provide an interesting background.

Ice on the River

And then back to where we started to see how the light might have changed in the late afternoon.  We liked what we saw and stayed until sunset.

It was definitely getting colder but the light was changing all the time.  So we stayed and got lovely sunset light hitting the trees, the two at the edge of the lake and the cluster a little further out.

A great time enjoying the beauty we found everywhere.  Hours slipped by as we got lost in looking, seeking out images we thought were interesting, and then setting up our cameras to get what we hoped would capture what we felt and saw.  A lovely day with my son Scott - energizing and restorative.

Beauty, Change, Loss, Regret

Kettle Point is a beautiful and unique place, one of only a few spots where kettles - or stone concretions - are found.  These rocks that "grow" were created millions of years ago and most years can be seen as half circles of various sizes rising out of the waters of Lake Huron shore at Kettle Point.   They are formed by mineral precipitation around a nucleus, with each layer visible in a broken or split kettle.  The ones at Kettle Point are called cannonball concretions.

Sunset, February, 2012

Lake levels were unusually low in 2012 and 2013, the lakebed in Kettle Point dried out and many more kettles were visible, along with the beautiful shale from which they emerged.  

Emerging Kettle, March 2012

Broken Kettle, September 2012

As the lakebed receded, kettles that had been hidden for many years became visible.  Some were just emerging, popping up from the shale around them.  Others were large, magnificent structures.  Some were broken, their circular structure visible in the pieces.  They are natural creations and they are beautiful. The external banded markings show the water levels in different periods.

Large Cannonball Concretions, April 2013

Kettle Interior, April 2013

I returned time and time again to walk amongst these ancient stones.  I sat with them and I photographed them, and felt grateful for the beauty of our natural world.  

While the lake was extremely low in 2012 and 2013, the lowest in several decades, water levels in the Great Lakes are cyclical; a return to a more normal level was likely.  

The winter of 2013 was long and cold with lots of snow and no mid-season melt. Lake Huron froze early and stayed frozen.  There was no loss of lake water due to evaporation and in the spring of 2014 the water level was high.  The kettles became submerged once more.  This past winter saw the same pattern as the prior year and as the ice leaves the lake the water level remains high.

There are now no kettles to see.  A loss for sure.  Where once there lay a field of emerged and partially submerged kettles there is now only water.

April 15, 2015

How long do we have to wait for the kettles to return?  Will they return?  We don't know.  I feel a deep sense of regret.  I wish I'd spent more time there.  I wish I'd made more images.  I wish I'd been there more often in the early morning.  I've learned a lot watching the kettle landscape change.  Change is the only constant.  I know that, and going forward I will stay with beauty where I find it, allow it to energize and fulfill me, and use it to further my photographic journey.

Lake Huron Remains Frozen

It's the last week of March and Lake Huron is still frozen all the way to the horizon, as it has been for several months.  The early ice cover, heavy snow and a late melt means higher water levels and a smaller beach area later this year.  Lake levels were high last year and are now likely to be even higher, leaving much less beach for people to enjoy once summer comes.

Ipperwash Beach at Army Camp Road

The beach is completely frozen.  The blue in the foreground is reflected colour from the sky, not water.  But the ice is thinning, temperatures are forecast to be above freezing next week, and the lake will start to open up.

Ipperwash Beach from the Top of the Dunes