Forced Intermission

Due to some unforeseen and annoying issues involving my PC (read: broken) the last two weeks have been busy and bad for my photo sorting/editing/writing/posting work flow. Hopefully, everything will be fixed (one way or another) by early next week.

For now, here is an image I captured while wandering quickly through the Luxor, a casino in Las Vegas, Nevada. Their Egyptian theme is so well done, I may have to stay there if I ever end up in that part of the United States again.

(Nikon D300, 24mm, f/5.6, 1/8 sec, ISO 1600)

Close Encounters

As I very noisily and unsteathily hiked along the Skyline (trail #7) on the west coast of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, I heard a noise... a steady grunting. 'That's odd,' I thought and stopped, listening carefully. I held my breath and noticed the sound continued. The source of the deep, repetitive, almost-subsonic grunt was nearby but it wasn't coming from me. Curious, I backed up a few steps, crunching none-too-silently in the gravel, and peered through the branches. It was a solitary, female moose and she was so close that I almost peed a little from excitement and fear! She was right there!
Slowly, but without hesitation, I raised my camera and took a few photos.
Moose are notoriously temperamental and can weigh as much as a car; not a hiker-safe combination. Was she at all concerned about how close I was? I remembered reading somewhere that when a moose is annoyed it pins back its ears and the fur on its neck stands on end, like a cat or a dog. So far, this moose looked reassuringly uncat-like but if this was a mama-moose where was the calf? More importantly, would she remain reassuringly uncat-like if it appeared?
I hurriedly took a few more pictures.
I suddenly also recall reading somewhere that it's rutting season. That doesn't make me feel any better. Was the huffing noise she continued to make a mating call? Do female moose call to males? Or perhaps bull moose woo females with vocals and rhythmic dancing? I needed the knowledge of a Boy Scout that has his badge in moosery!
I took a few more photos and dared not move.
Some branches snap in the growth behind her. Okay, was that from a clumsy, harmless calf or a creeping, amorous bull? More snapping. It seems like there's movement all over the place! Maybe she's calling other females over to see the handsome photographer!
I take a few more pictures and panic a little inside.
...
(Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/60, ISO 900, cropped, WB changed to daylight)

Morning Bliss

Well, I'm back and it looks like my scheduled postings worked; that's a neat feature. Here is the first of probably quite a few postings from my recent trip around the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. 

This picture was taken of the Baddeck Lighthouse in Baddeck, NS, on the very first morning before getting to the Cabot Trail. The fog was still in the air and I stopped by the side of the road to photograph the lighthouse (of course). As I took the pictures, I was delighted to see a boat suddenly, and quietly, break the mirror-still water even though I was already enamored with the peaceful scene.

It wasn't until later that day, though, that I realized that my ISO setting was way too high (from a previous photoshoot involving dark cats in a dark room) so some of the pictures on this day end up a little grainy. Luckily the camera dropped the shutter speed to compensate... although I suppose if it hadn't I would have noticed the issue much sooner. I guess resetting the camera to its default settings before each new session is what I'll learn from this experience, although I personally like the image with a little grain in it.

(Nikon D300, 55mm, f/9, 1/8000, ISO 1600)

The B&O revisited

This is my last scheduled post. I'll arrive home again in the next few days to see if I fail at scheduling. I'll need a vacation when I get back if everything scheduled has gone as planned.

This image was taken at the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Museum in Baltimore, Maryland. I liked the way the light and shadows effected the side of this car. It spoke to my more artsy side. 

(Sony DSLR-A100, 35mm, f/5.6, 1/50, ISO 160)

Ferris Wheel

This is my second (of three) scheduled posts.

Here is an image of a ferris wheel from the carnival the first night of the Sussex International Balloon Fiesta. Oooh, those poor people.

(Nikon D300, 40mm, f/3.5, 0.6 sec, ISO 200, cropped, removed a rogue lamp)

Centennial

 

This is the first of three scheduled posts. I decided to try that feature out while I'm on vacation. 

Introducing Mittens the cat, here to help me celebrate this, my one hundredth post. Kinda hard to believe I've taken that many presentable pictures...

(Nikon D300, 55mm, f/2.8, 1/30, ISO 3200, cropped, sharpened)

Flying high

Taken at the Sussex International Balloon Fiesta, this picture best represents how I'll feel as I leave work tomorrow for my road trip/vacation. I'm excited despite the predicted weather. The only thing I'm going to worry about is making sure my lens is clean. This photo had little black spots on it due to a dirty lens (spots which I had to heal in Photoshop). Very annoying.

Ah well. Live and learn. See you in a week! 

(Nikon D300, 55mm, f/22, 1/250, ISO 200, cropped, healed)

Nara

Here is another photo of Nara from my shoot last week. I'm sure she's a bundle of, among other things, joy. I hope you're getting some sleep, mama.

I noticed recently, and quite unexpectedly, that my free time has suddenly vanished (which is attributed to my night-classes) and as a consequence, I forgot to post at the end of last week. I will try to remedy that with an extra post this week before I go on my last vacation of the year.

This time a simple road trip around Cape Breton, Nova Scotia for a few days and then north (by ferry) to Newfoundland for the rest of the week. I'm staying grounded this time. I've had enough airplanes for one year.

(Nikon D300, 40mm, f/4, 1/40, ISO 200, cropped, warmed, softened)

Congratulations Cookie!

"There's nothing more toxic or deadly than a human child. A single touch could kill you."

- Henry J. Waternoose

Some days it's easy to agree with Mr. Waternoose and some days it's a little more difficult. This is Nara and she was the victim of my first (and mostly-improvised) Baby Photoshoot. She slept almost the whole time, which was great, and there was only one instance of unexpected flatulatory dispersion... which I still suspect wasn't the baby.

I pray a sleepy farter is the worst you have to deal with, Cookie!

Congratulations! 

(Nikon D300, 55mm, f/4, 1/50, ISO 200, cropped, B/W conversion)

My Very Own Stalker

Last Friday's visit to the Atlantic International Balloon Fiesta in Sussex, New Brunswick was followed by a quick visit to the funfair that night. Pictured here is a Round Up rotating its riders. It was just before this picture was taken that I was ambushed by a young woman who had clearly been stalking me. After a small scuffle, some 'encouraged' fingerprinting, and a quick call to CSIS HQ, it turned out she was my first cousin once removed (if I've read this chart correctly). I guess it should have been obvious who she was; she was identical to my cousin (her mother) in almost every respect from looks to attitude... but I suppose that's also the reason why I didn't hesitate to contact the authorities in the first place.

(Nikon D300, 55mm, f/3.5, 1/3 sec., ISO 200)

Up, Up and Away

Last weekend started with a visit to the city of Sussex, New Brunswick for their annual Atlantic International Balloon Fiesta. As you can see from the picture above, the weather conditions were favorable and so almost thirty hot-air balloons (and their human payloads) ascended gracefully into the dusty, blue sky of a lazy friday evening using the fuel from hundreds of cheering voices, faith, and a large, controlled flame.

(Nikon D300, 40mm, f/20, 1/20, ISO 200, CP Filter)

Need More Iguanas

No web log is complete without ample lizard pics. This iguana was sunning herself on a rock when I got off a boat tour in Costa Rica. She posed happily (as you can see from her expression) while I got my fill of images. Like I've always said, I always appreciate a cooperative iguana!

(Olympus C770UZ, 63mm, f/3.7, 1/320, ISO 75)

Bell of Beaubassin

On my tour of Fort Beauséjour in July, I quickly snapped a picture of this bell on my way through the museum. I hadn't realize its significance until after a little research tonight...

"Once located in the belfry of Notre Dame d’Assumption Church in Beaubassin, the bell dates from 1734. Made of solid bronze and weighing approximately 300 pounds, it was cast at the naval foundry in Rochefort, France. In 1770 Beaubassin was destroyed; however, the bell was rescued and may be seen today in the museum at Fort Beauséjour."

* From the Sackville Tribune article: Chronicling the rise and fall of Beaubassin

I am often surprised by the things I discover as a result of my photography (and with the aid of the Internet). I'm sure there was a description, in the museum, detailing the history of the bell but I often find myself being distracted by "settings and options overload" on my camera. I'm spending more time trying to figure out the camera than I am actually taking photos and enjoying the surroundings. I'm hoping this is something that will go away as I become more comfortable with the camera. If not, I'll have to make a conscious effort in the future.

(Nikon D300, 24mm, f/2.8, 1/25, ISO 3200)

Wooden Victims

Continuing this weeks theme of destruction-by-fist, here is an additional photo of Instructor John Thorley, 5th dan Taekwondo Master during his 10-minute, thousand-board break-a-thon for United Way.

(Nikon D300, 26mm, f/3.5, 1/60, ISO 200, flash, cropped)

Demolition for Charity

Trying to beat the impressive accomplishment set at his charity event '500 boards in 5 minutes for the United Way' two years ago (which successfully raised $5,000 in donations), Master John Thorley is pictured here Friday night (in the middle of Main Street, Moncton) splintering stacks of donated wood on his way to a stamina-testing personal record of 1,000 boards in 10 minutes (aiming for $10,000 for United Way).

Simply watching the 5th dan Taekwondo Master lay waste to his evil, wooden adversaries is exhaustive and it's easy to see from the coordination and dedication of dozens of students holding, clearing, and resetting boards in the Instructor's destructive wake, that this is a demonstration that they take very seriously and execute with confidence.

There was never any doubt that Master Thorley and his team would be successful in their attempt and I (very excitedly) look forward to the next exhibition I can photograph.

(Nikon D300, 52mm, f/3.5, 1/60, ISO 360, flash, cropped)

Heritage Moments

I've learned a lot about my local area recently so I'll share a few tidbits.

Fort Beauséjour (where this photo was taken) in Aulac, New Brunswick, Canada, is the site of a French fort that was built to oppose the British built Fort Lawrence around 1750. At the time, the borders were unclear and ill-defined, causing a nagging uneasiness and general malaise.

* * *

When the British (under Major Charles Lawrence) sailed into the area and toward an Acadian (french colonial) town named Beaubassin, the local priest, as any man of God would do, burned the town to ashes so the British couldn't have it and rushed the now homeless Acadians to the French for safety.

Major Lawrence thought negatively of this and within months returned with carpenters to build Fort Lawrence (what else could they have called it, really?) which, in turn, annoyed the French who quickly began (but never finished) constructing Fort Beauséjour.

Before the French could finish their fort, the British (under Lt. Col. Robert Monckton) attacked, lay siege, and won. Having gained control of a new fort (unfinished Beauséjour), they razed their old one (Fort Lawrence) to the ground.

When they finally looked around at what they'd conquered, the British found they were surrounded by Acadian prisoners who (when demanded of them) refused to swear allegiance to the Crown (preferring to instead remain "neutral"). So (now Governor) Charles Lawrence decided it best to forcibly relocate not only the prisoners but every Acadian they could find, to places like Spanish-occupied Louisiana and nearby France, and he put the adept Robert Monckton in charge of carrying out those orders. Nearly half of the Acadians relocated would die en route. This undeniably harsh treatment has become known as the Great Upheaval.

A local town, Moncton, New Brunswick, is named for Lt. Col. Monckton.

* * *

Some other local towns also named for men with slightly questionable histories:

• Amherst, Nova Scotia - named for Jeffery Amherst, an officer in the British Army who thought it would be a great idea to end a conflict with Native Americans by giving them blankets infected with smallpox. (I have friends that do this with farts.)
• Sackville, New Brunswick - named for George Sackville, who ended his British military career with a court martial and was ruled "...unfit to serve his Majesty in any military capacity whatsoever".

(Nikon D300, 17mm, f/3.5, 1/1000, ISO 200)

The Highest Tides

Noticing the tide was high while heading for a hike at Fundy National Park, I decided another quick stop at Hopewell Rocks was in order. This stop allowed me to grab a shot from the same perspective as the low-tide one from my visit during the previous week. I think it's a fairly good indicator of when and when not to take a leisurely stroll on the bay floor.

(Nikon D300, using two lenses with disappointingly-obvious quality differences, hopefully this is mostly due to the lack of polarizing filter for the second photo.)

Flower Pots

During low tide in the Bay of Fundy at Hopewell Cape near Moncton, New Brunswick, humans (and myself) are able to walk along the shore partaking in the majesty of Mother Nature's huge formations. Known as the Hopewell Rocks, these fully natural structures resemble flower pots with their tree-covered tops. Here the highest tides in the world flood the area and can rise 12+ meters (40+ feet) nearly the full height of the rocky towers.
Taking photos on beautiful days like the one above can be difficult at a popular destination like this one because of the crowds but I was lucky (after a long, impatient wait) and able to take the shot when people were crowding around the opposite side of the rock or (finally) climbing back up the cliffs to go to the Interpretive Center.
(Nikon D300, 17mm, f/9, 1/160, ISO 200)

View from the Top

Here is a view of Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada (north of the Petitcodiac River, top half of the picture) from about 20,000 feet above Riverview, New Brunswick which is south of the river (bottom half of the picture). I was able to take this just before landing at Moncton International Airport (YQM).
Also, it turns out that it is exceedingly difficult for me to take a suitable low-light images travelling 500 mph.

(Nikon D300, f/2.8, 1/25, ISO 3200)

An Unexpected Party

Leaping from the cliffs above to crush me, this crazy monsterling got in the way of a perfectly good landscape shot of the Joggins Fossil Cliffs. I was able to snap this photo of her just before she struck, utterly destroying my will to continue the photo shoot and my legs.

As luck would have it, shortly following the taking of this picture (and after I was taken to the hospital), she disregarded Rule #1 and fearlessly entered the well-known Joggins Cliff Giant cave. This ultimately lead to her being beaned by an unpleasantly-shaped boulder.

She left my life as violently as she entered it, and I have since recovered the use of my legs but I still cry a little each night.

(Nikon D300, 17mm, f/3.5, 1/800, ISO 200, cropped/sharpened)

No Kids Allowed

Sometimes it's better to let a picture tell its own story.

This one was taken in June 2007 at the Magnetic Hill Zoo, in Moncton, New Brunswick.

(Sony DSLR-A100, 230mm, f/5.6, 1/400, ISO 100, cropped)

Welcome to Joggins Fossil Cliffs

Welcome to the Joggins Fossil Cliffs! As of July 7, 2008, we are pleased to announce our new designation as a UNESCO World Heritage Site! There are many things to do while you visit us here in Joggins, Nova Scotia. You can: go back in time for a dinosaur safari, accompany our skilled volunteer on an archaeological dig, or rescue womp rats on one of our eco-friendly hover car rides!

In order to keep you safe during your stay we ask that you please follow these modest guidelines:

1. Please do not go into the Cliff Giant cave as they tend to throw boulders at trespassers.
2. Jumping out of space-time rifts to surprise your friends should only be attempted once every 3 hours due to radiation exposure.
3. DO NOT DANCE IN THE HOVER CARS!

By following these three simple rules you'll not only ensure your own safety but the safety of your friends and loved ones. Remember, rule-breakers put the 'joy' in 'killjoy' and the 'fun' in 'funeral'!

Enjoy your stay and have fun with our rocks!

With Reckless Abandon

This picture hasn't stopped making me chuckle since I took it last week. This little lad was having a fantastic time diving headlong into the crystal-clear water of this pool. Technically, he wasn't breaking the 'No Cannonballs' rule although formal rules had, as of last week, yet to be legitimized in print despite some playful yet poignant nagging from the hostess.

(Nikon D300, 55mm, f/2.8, 1/2000, ISO 200, cropped)

The power of the mustache compels you!

About an hour ago (3:00 am), for reasons I don't yet understand, I was inexplicably compelled to shave my vacation beard but during the process something strange happened. Perhaps I was getting tired and lazy, or perhaps it was an overdose of cheesecake making the decisions, but now I have a mustache.
I've always hated them, yet here upon my face sits a creepy lip-weasel. Just having this fuzzy, little nose-hugger on my face makes me feel like a dirty old man, and when I look in the mirror my upper lip seems to epitomize everything I've ever associated with porn-stars.
And yet I'm facinated by it!
It seems to have a mind of its own; a power of some kind. It imbues me with confidence, self-esteem, and smarminess.

As The Tick once said about his own new mustache:

"This changes everything. I feel... different. Better. A new sensation is spreading out from my upper lip to every other part of my body. It's a feeling that I just can't quite describe. It's a savvy kind of feeling. A suavey kind of feeling. Kind of a.. kind of a mustache feeling!"

"Rugged, self-assured, adult. These are the words that describe the man who wears a mustache. Yes, it says to the world, 'I'm a man of action!' Ah, but action tempered with maturity. Like a fireman... or somebody's dad! Y'know, most of your world leaders have mustaches!"

I think I'm beginning to understand what happens to some people who fall victim to the hairy, style-free drug. Luckily for everyone, when I wake up I'll immediately finish the shaving job I started but until then I'll sleep with the confidence of an adult video star!
(Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/100, ISO 200)

World enough, and time

To celebrate my oh-so-short vacation and my plans of 'doing nothing' this week, here is a simple split-second sample of the fireworks that lit up my heart on its first day, although you'll have to add your own angelic trumpeting and fanfare. Actually, I want to accomplish a long list of things I've been putting off for months but it seems unlikely that I'll find the motivation. Procrastination, enemy mine. There's so much to do, I don't know where to start anymore. Too much world, too short a life. I just need to pick something and do it. I think Andrew Marvell said it best in his poem: To His Coy Mistress. My life needs more carpe diem in it. (Nikon D300, 24mm, f/11, 2 sec, ISO 200)

Bring on the Chill

This watery image reminds me that, in Canada, our summer is already half over (or, to be an optimist, half begun) but I'm ready for the less debilitating chill of autumn anyway.

Although this water (in Vieques, Puerto Rico) was warm, inviting, and wonderful for snorkeling, ours will soon again be ice. With most of my superpowers being neutralized by the heat, I, for one, will welcome our new wintery overlords. (Sony DSLR-A100, 18mm, 1/80, ISO 100)

Impatience

I've been here a few days now but this place no longer feels like home. I'm fine with it because I expected it. It's called reverse culture shock. It's always a little disconcerting but the feeling goes away as I get more comfortable with being back here. Now the question is whether or not I want to get comfortable. I believe this can be answered with the question: How soon can I leave?

I took this photo during a walk through Regent's Park in London, England. The little fellow was probably waiting for food, or Godot, neither of which appeared while I was there. Then, as now, the only thing that showed up while we waited was the future.

(Olympus C770UZ, details unknown, cropped)

Indifference

I have returned once more to the true north strong and free and this time I'm planning on staying a while. My flights were both quiet and uneventful which, to me, is wonderful. I recognized the flight crew, which isn't unusual, and they recognized me, which is. There was only an hour delay in Newark and anyone who's connected through EWR will say that's not bad at all. So over all, I'm pleased.

Because of my relocation and resettling, however, I've been slack with posting so today I'm punishing myself with these cold blue-grey eyes of apathy. This cat, whom I met in Puerto Rico, would never have accepted my excuses and knowing that is my punishment.

His intermittent mewling of disinterestedness and his utter lack of concern wounds my soul as only a cat can. I strive to hear the nonchalant purr of indifference that would mean his not un-approval.

I will do better, Señor Gato!

(Sony DSLR-A100, 70mm, f/5.6, 1/125, ISO 160)

Metamorphosis

New York, July 2006:
They had lowered their voices to harsh whispers so I could no longer make out what was being said, but I had ducked behind a display of primitive tools and could still see the exchange. He was uttering his demands through clenched teeth and I could see spit flying as he did so, but she was clearly holding her own and jabbed him accusingly in the chest with a finger, not backing down despite the veins bulging on his forehead. It was then that he raised his hand suddenly and slapped her. I really hadn't seen that coming and, unfortunately, neither had she as she dropped to the floor out of sight.
As I timidly hid, I was suddenly struck with the realization of how my inaction had caused Jessica to get hurt and emasculated me at the same time. This had two effects, the first was a deep and unprecedented level of shame, and the second was an intense, blazing flare of purpose.
I stood, walked out from behind the display case while making myself as big and imposing as I could, and cleared my throat confidently.
"It takes a pretty tough guy to slap a woman around. Care to try that on me?"
Leo turned to me, flashing a snarl. He didn't seem panicky, scared, or anxious in any way.
This was not the effect I had been hoping for but it was the one I should have expected.
Growling and seemingly ready to pounce, Leo took a step toward me then lunged. I stepped to the side, dodging his initial attack but he reversed direction and clipped my head with his elbow. Despite being more of a lover than a fighter, I have taken my fair share of elbows to the head and shrugged it off, smirking. It was clear, though, that I wouldn't be victorious in a battle of muscles so I tried something simple first. I backed toward the Homo Erectus display. He followed warily.
"You know you're on camera, right?" I said, indicating the wall above my shoulder, behind me.
Like everyone who doesn't want their face on camera, the first thing he did was look directly at it before quickly turning away, cursing... but he was still advancing on me.
"Bah," he growled, "it doesn't matter, they never check the tapes."
"Are you sure? Because I think security..." I smashed the closest display case, "...is on their way right now."
An ear-splitting alarm went off and, wide-eyed, he bolted for the exit.

I wouldn't see him again for almost two years.
Jessica was suddenly at my side.

"Thank you!" She yelled to be heard above the alarm. She grabbed both of my shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes, "We have to get out of here!"
She reached into the display case I had broken. Primitive jewelry, apparently.
"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously.
She leaned in so I could hear, "Taking back my Grandmother's necklace, I knew Leo would never find it here. Now that this display is broken, they'll take inventory to make sure nothing was stolen. If I leave it, they'll find they have too many artifacts. I need to find another place..." she trailed off but I could hear the panic in her voice. She was on the verge of tears.
It felt like hours had gone by. Despite it being a good thing for Jessica and I, I couldn't believe that the Security Guards weren't there yet. I knew if someone touched my Homo Erectus, I'd respond much faster.
Jessica grabbed my wrist and we ran for the nearest fire escape.
"I need to find a new hiding place," she blurted again when we got outside. The sun had set behind some buildings which cast long shadows into the streets. Jessica shivered as a chilling breeze blew over us. "If he finds me before then, he'll take it!"
I felt as if her problem was my fault. If only I had intervened sooner, or called security instead of challenging Leo myself, or even broken a different display... I had made a lot of bad choices and had a lot of bad luck.
"I could take it," I blurted, "and we could meet up again tomorrow after you've found another spot."
This seemed to be exactly what she wanted to hear because she immediately calmed. She pushed her hair back behind her ear, and looked around quickly, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, no problem," I lied, "just meet me somewhere tomorrow. How does noon at Hershey's - Times Square sound?"
She grinned, "A crowded public place for the exchange. Even if he follows us, he can't do anything about it!"
Actually, I had been looking for any excuse to go to the chocolate store but I nodded sagely, wise beyond my years.
She was almost glowing with excitement now as we walked quickly south along Central Park West glancing behind as often, and casually, as possible.
"It's hard to believe how much trouble this little thing has been for me." She stopped and opened her hand and cupped in her palm was the necklace. It was very simple, a plain looking gold chain with a small pendant of a bird. "Are you sure you want to take this for me?"
I picked up the necklace and put it in my pocket. "Yes, I'm sure. Find another hiding place and I'll see you tomorrow at the corner of 48th and Broadway."
She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. Her lips were warm and soft but, strangely, her eyes were suddenly full of sorrow. And then she was gone, quickly and quietly vanishing in the shadows of twilight.
I wouldn't see her again for almost two years.

(Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/60, ISO 220, edited to remove haze)

Convergence

New York, July 2006:
By the time I arrived at the American Museum of Natural History fifteen minutes later, I had almost forgotten the chance encounter in Central Park and had started humming Masquerade from Phantom of the Opera which I had the privilege of experiencing the night before.

I climbed the stairs and held the door for a gentleman who was exiting the museum as I tried to enter. He nodded his thanks and, hearing me humming the familiar Phantom track, burst into a grin and started humming as well. For a moment, I was afraid that we were going to be forced into an impromptu musical song and dance routine (à la Disney) right there on the stairs but he turned from me and continued on his way audibly pleased with his mental orchestra.
I chuckled to myself, remembering my Keats, 'Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter' referring to how music that plays in your mind is perfect, limited only by your own imagination.
I entered the building and bought a ticket to wander the grounds and started doing so, heading first to the epic Cosmic Collisions space show and from there to the rest of the exhibits I wanted to see in the little time I had before closing. As the day wore on, I found myself less and less likely to be disturbed by others (read: children) as their parents noticed the lateness of the day and left the building for one reason or another.
It was when I entered the Hall of Human Origins and saw Jessica across the room that I remembered that she was going to be there. She was facing a Homo Erectus display and hadn't seen me yet. I puffed out my chest and took one step toward her when, also apparently not seeing me, the angry man from the Museum of Modern Art briskly entered the room. He grabbed her arm and roughly spun her around, "Where is it?" he demanded, hissing through gritted teeth.
"It's not yours, Leo." Jessica answered calmly, a small quaver in her voice the only evidence of her fear.
"I've more right to it than you or your grandmother ever had!" His voice rising, his statement filled with poison and disdain.
"Before you killed her, I promised her you wouldn't get it," she spat, "I intend to keep that promise!"
What?? I had just been thrust into a highly uncomfortable situation. I stepped slowly backward, out of the room. The one thing I knew at that moment was that I didn't want them to know that I had heard any of their obviously incriminating conversation.

Crap.

(Sony DSLR-A100, 35mm, f/5.6, 1/60, ISO 100)

PBFC

New York, July 2006:
I strutted into Central Park with a small sheen of sweat on my brow, an ice cream, and a smile. It was gorgeous out! Sunny, with a slight breeze to keep you cool.

Glancing around, I saw a photographer taking photos of a wedding party in the trees and offhandedly thought how it might be nice to make money with a camera. My ice cream, melting rapidly, almost dripped onto my hand and I chided myself for becoming distracted, Focus, man! While it was unlikely that even a single drop would escape from Waffle-cone Alcatraz, I had to remain vigilant! Jealous joggers and whining, covetous children walked by at whom I smirked and stuck out my tongue when their parents weren't looking. Ice cream and a nature walk, a wonderful combination. Even the tangy musk wafting from the nearby Central Park Zoo couldn't overpower Peanut Butter Fudge Crunch, the ice cream of the gods.
Knowing the Museum of Natural History to be along Central Park West, I headed north along the path accordingly. It was hard to believe that this park was in the middle of the most densely populated city in the United States. You could probably visit the park every day for months and never meet the same person twice! Blissfully, I strolled along, in my own little world for a while, thankful for the break from the crowds.
It was when I was down to the bottom third-of-a-cone nub and I was entering the usual sugar-induced, panicky state of acute hyper-awareness that I heard her voice.
"Is that Peanut Butter Fudge Crunch?"
"It's mine! Get your own!" I turned to hiss defensively, Gollum-like, at the voice.
It was Jessica again. She was grinning at me, her blonde hair gently kissing her cheek in the breeze.
"I'm Heidi, we met in passing an hour ago about a chair."
I remembered. I hated that chair.
I was impressed that she recognized the flavor of ice cream though, and said so. This was followed by an awkward silence.
A small child ran between us and down the path toward the Wildlife Center. A young looking, dark-haired woman, presumably his mother, was giving chase but looked haggard and out of breath.
I popped the last bit of cone in my mouth frowning. Jessica giggled.
"Well," she said, "I'm heading over to the history museum, just thought I'd say thanks for earlier." She leaned in closer and lightly touched my arm.
"Thanks? For what?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah," she grinned, crinkling her nose, "for not giving me up to Leo." She brushed her hair back behind her ear and turned to walk away. "Maybe I can repay the favor sometime?"
"But," I stammered, accurately recalling an hour ago, "I didn't do anything."
I stood on the path for a moment longer, confused, as she walked away. With my acute hyper-awareness quite obviously fading fast, I realized that she was probably heading to the same museum as I was, but I hesitated in catching up with her.

Heidi? Hadn't she said her name was Megan? I really hadn't been paying that much attention, I suppose I could have mis-heard her. Besides, now that I wasn't being irritated by modern art and wasn't focusing on ice cream, I noticed she had a kind of 'Diane Kruger with brown eyes' look that wasn't unappealing.
And with that realization in mind I decided I would not chase her, as running is not my style, but instead would just watch for her when I arrived at the museum...

(Nikon D300, 42mm, f/4.5, 1/60, ISO 800, changed white-balance to fluorescent)

Background

New York, July 2006:

"Hi." She extended her right hand. "I'm Megan, by the way."
This was how I met Jessica, and lying about her name is a good example of the relationship we shared. I shook her hand casually, absently, while I absorbed the brilliance of Claude Monet surrounding me. With her left hand she brushed her smooth, blonde hair back behind her ear and out of her face. A mischievous sparkle in her large brown eyes would have told me all I needed to know but instead I continued my diatribe.
"Maybe I just don't understand modern art but I think Monet's works might be the only things worth viewing here." I waved my arm indicating as much of New York's Museum of Modern Art as I could in one swing, and sighed. I had stopped at a bench in a room devoted to His 'Reflections of Clouds on the Water-Lily Pond'. She had sat down shortly thereafter. "I mean, honestly, was that art back there simply a chair? Really?"
She chuckled and smiled at me like a mother with her child, "Yes, it was just a chair but that's why it's amazing! Kosuth forces us to question, not the chair itself, but the meaning behind the chair and the implications of its existence as a work of art. It's the very definition of Conceptual." She was very enthusiastic.
I frowned at her, this stranger who could apparently see beyond the material form of the chair into a realm of conceptually implied non-chair reasoning.
Jessica tilted her head to the side with a grin, wondering if I understood. I didn't, but nodded sagely, declaring, "of course, but I still prefer Monet."
It was then that he angrily entered the room, angrily looked around, angrily muttered something to himself before finally, angrily, sitting down in a huff. He had short brown hair and squinty, beady eyes. He wasn't very much taller than me. I had an immediate dislike of him and could easily conjure an image of him as the type of man to physically mistreat a woman.

Like most people who appreciate art, those who had gathered in the room choose to avoid his obvious, seething aggression and filed quickly and quietly out of the room. Uncomfortable as it was, I chose to stay purely out of spite. This was a mistake. Turning to me, he glared.
"Have you seen a blonde?" He growled.
"A few, actually." I answered dismissively, glancing where Jessica had, until recently, been. I hadn't seen her leave although, to be fair, I hadn't even noticed if she'd been clothed. I was clearly far too absorbed in art-related concerns.
"Bah," he spat, storming from the room.
I immediately stood and headed for the exit, not risking his return. Besides, modern art obviously did not agree with me and, more importantly, I was hungry. Maybe an ice cream, a stroll through Central Park, and a visit to the Museum of Natural History before heading back to my hotel would turn the day around.

(Nikon D300, 18mm, f/5,6, 1/1250, ISO 200)

Mysterious Ways

Upon finding this picture, I realize now that my hasty post about my misfortune in the mine shaft at the Grand Canyon was unfair so I'll try to explain over the next few days:

This red-haired diva danced her way into the hearts of the crowd at The Venetian, completely unaware of the true character of the man to her right. I hadn't seen him since a surprise trip took me to New York City in July of 2006 but no amount of time could ever erase the face of a true nemesis. At first, neither of us realized the other was there but with a click of the shutter sudden recognition set in. I knew after almost two years that my luck had run out. The instant after I took this photo, and the shock of his familiar glare ruining my diva-picture wore off, I made my way as quickly and casually as I could for the nearest door mouthing the words 'nice hat' as I went.

Not drawing attention, and thus Casino Security, to ourselves was critical to both of us and that knowledge meant that he would finish the performance like normal but be after me within minutes. He would want what I had taken from the American Museum of Natural History, and from him, in New York.

And I couldn't let him have it...

(Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/60, ISO 1400)

Oo La La!

I'll be in flight once again tomorrow visiting Canada for the weekend. I'm not looking forward to this flight for some reason, hopefully the flights go well. I'm probably just nervous because of the last time I flew. Or maybe I'm just tired. Either way, I leave you with this photo of Paris Las Vegas. I like this photo despite it being very busy. I would have liked to try a shot with a longer shutter speed to smooth out the water in the fountain but, caught in a crowd-torrent swirling by, I was lucky to get what I did without it being filled with random heads. Bonne nuit. (Nikon D300, 18mm, f/4, 1/1000, ISO 200)

More Clownage

Like my previous post, this cute photo was taken at the Pegasus Parade Float Preview. Her clown name was Pop-Sicle. I actually stalked this poor girl for a while that night. The camera I was using was still relatively new to me and I couldn't get the settings right. All the pictures were bad! Too bright! Too dark! Too blurry! So I just kept taking her photo until I got something less horrible than the rest. I realize now that my problem was how low I had the ISO (film speed) set, and how the artificial lights in the ceiling affected the shot. Unfortunately, this clown paid the price for my ignorance. She was a real sweetie for putting up with me so I hope she didn't develop any psychological complexes as a result. If so, then I can take some small satisfaction in knowing I have a photo of 'pre-asylum' Pop-Sicle. (Nikon D300, 55mm, f/2.8, 1/60, ISO 200)

Parades and the Clowns That Love Them

This picture was taken at the Pegasus Parade Float Preview in Louisville, Kentucky. As the name suggests, this was preview of the floats the night before the actual parade (which I was unable to attend) during the days leading up to the Derby. This was one of the clowns that wandered around the Kentucky Exposition Center entertaining the kids (and, incidentally, me). In case you're curious, in this picture, his giant fly-swatter (a setup for some joke about the swat team) is being used as an oar. He also carried, among other things, a picture of some goats in his pocket which he explained were his kids. Jokes, both corny and classic. He reminded me of my father. (Nikon D300, 55mm, f/2.8, 1/60, ISO 200)

The Quality of Mercy

Watching a live performance at The Venetian, while surrounded by merchants as I was at the time, I was reminded (oddly enough) of Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice and so tonight, I post some lines from of my favorite speech of that work.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown;

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's

When mercy seasons justice.

- Act IV Scene I, Portia addressing Shylock

(Nikon D300, 36mm, f/4.2, 1/60, ISO 1400)

The Venetian

This picture was taken at The Venetian, a resort, hotel, casino on The Strip in Las Vegas, Nevada. The weather was really nice that day but you can't tell that from this picture because the sky you see here is, in actuality, a painted ceiling. That's right, everything you see here, including the river (with gondola rides) is all inside The Venetian! Such extravagance and attention to detail is put into these casinos. This was one of the rare times when I couldn't wipe the slack-jawed tourist look off my face. Have a mentioned Las Vegas was showy? (Nikon D300, 18mm, f/5.6, 1/8 sec, ISO 200)

You can always tell

This weekend was the Belmont Stakes, the third race of three and the third jewel in what they call the Triple Crown, that is, if one horse can manage to win all three. UPS sponsored Big Brown was the contender this year, having won the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness Stakes already, he entered this weekend as the favorite to win. Big Brown was to be the first horse in 30 years to capture the Triple Crown, but instead became the first horse (ever) to have finished the Belmont dead last after winning the first two races. After a couple days and many examinations, his owners say that he is fine. As of Sunday, nothing seems to be physically wrong with him.

Perhaps he was just tired. Perhaps it was just too hot that day. Perhaps he remembered what happened to Eight Belles and had a fear of pushing himself too hard. Or perhaps he was just feeling down since they weaned him off his steroid cocktail.

Or maybe, just maybe, the filly he'd been courting cooed to him the night before the race, "If you love me, then you will lose."

"I will not lose." Muffled by his feed-bag, he argued, shocked.

"Then you do not love me," she stated flatly, flicking her finely groomed mane as she turned back to her stall.

Either way, I admit I was impressed by the power of this horse during his first two races, but it wasn't until this weekend that he actually caught my attention. It was so likely that he was going to win the race that I didn't give it the time of day. But he was so unequivocally last, and not for any reason that's clear to his many investors (read: filly), but simply because it appears he didn't feel like racing.

He just pulled up, knowing he could have won if he wanted, and went back to the stable for some oats, all the while hearing the noise that can only be made by crying, outraged gamblers flushing millions of dollars down the toilet.

As evidenced by the picture of the not-quite-winning horses above, you can always tell what position a horse was in by measuring the depth of the layer of track they're wearing when they cross the finish line. Despite being last, Big Brown was pretty clean. I admire that. My hero.

(Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/400, ISO 200)

Expedition Brown

Known as Indiana Brown to none of my friends, I took this picture along a dusty, mule-worn path descending into the depths of the Grand Canyon. It was right after this that I discovered the old mining shaft leading from the Three Mile Resthouse into the cliffs beneath Bright Angel Lodge. I gently brushed a scorpion from some dry branches I picked up off the ground and lit one as a makeshift torch before entering the tunnel. I won't bore you with the details but some Native American pictographs on the cave wall lead me to discover an artifact that simultaneously proved how all religions were both right and wrong, and made me independently wealthy, but which I then had to give up to save a beautiful, young woman from an untimely death. Sadly, it was too dark to get any good photos and, without proof, there's no point in explaining any more about the artifact or the woman.

If, at any time, you have any trouble envisioning this scenario, just hum the theme song while you read it, it greatly enhances the experience. You can see the bullwhip hanging on my right hip. (Nikon D300, 17mm, f/10, 1/125, ISO 200)

Ever feel like...

I'm back in a hotel and tired. The flights were horribly turbulent. On the third and final leg of my journey the pilot explained that there was some bad weather to get through, and after 30 minutes of rocking around in the worst flight I'd been on he announced that there was a rough patch coming up (coming up??) and we should buckle up and hang on. But how could it get any worse? I naïvely whined to myself.

It got much worse.

I honestly thought the wings were going to rip off the plane. I've never been on a flight where the seat-belts actually saved people from flying haphazardly about the cabin. I think everyone had white-knuckles from hanging on for dear life. So, I'm exhausted and feeling much like a snail at the moment. Time to curl up in my blankety shell for some sleep. Safe. Here. On the ground.

Also, for those that are interested, this picture was taken in December 2007, at the El Yunque National Rainforest in Puerto Rico. (Sony DSLR-A100, 50mm, f/5.6, 1/30, ISO 400)

Our home and native land

I'm currently packing my bags for a trip home for the weekend. It's been five or six weeks since I was there last and I'm hoping the snow is gone by now. As I explain to my American associates, Atlantic Canada has 10 months of winter, and 3 months of not-quite-winter (using our metric calendar, of course). Anyway, to commemorate the (hopefully uneventful) trip, I decided to post this picture of some of my Canadian compatriots also visiting Kentucky. Canadian Geese are everywhere here. The local Subway I frequent has a flock that appears each day to break their fast on free, day-old bread. They're noisy creatures, honking their views at anyone who'll listen. Vocal, like most Canadians. The group in the picture was strolling along the shore of Lake Nevin when I snapped their photo during a day-trip, hiking at the beautiful Bernheim Arboretum and Research Forest, in Kentucky. Well, time to finish packing. It's late. Honk! (Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/800, ISO 200)

Did you hear the one about...

I took this picture because, to me, the lorikeet on the right looked like he was telling the one on the left a joke, and from his expression it was a pretty good one. The Louisville Zoo (in Kentucky, USA) has an exhibit where you can get in a cage with a couple dozen lorikeets and feed them nectar from a tiny cup. They land on your hands, arms, head, face, or wherever they can find purchase, then they drink the nectar, poop (optional), and fly away. When I put it that way, I suppose it doesn't sound that great but it's actually kind of fun, especially for kids, but even more especially for photographers that like to watch kids get pooped on by wildlife. Mwahahaha! Good times. (Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/250, ISO 200)

Right to my door?

The Treasure Island Casino, in Las Vegas, Nevada has a live show called The Sirens of TI that performs nightly. Sadly, despite my efforts, I missed it. It seems like a show I would have enjoyed. At least I managed to snap this shot of the decorative cast above the door inside of the casino before I left. Given my experiences though, it is my personal opinion that in Las Vegas the Sirens aren't limited to the Treasure Island casino. I had been warned about them but was still surprised. You see, Nevada has legalized brothels and so, as you might expect from their marketing departments, the streets are lined with people handing out baseball card-sized advertisements to anyone who gets in range. As you walk by them, you hear a quick snap like having playing cards in bicycle spokes, at which point you turn with curiosity to see what the noise was... this will ultimately be your undoing. If you make eye contact, a small stack of 'baseball cards' will be handed to you.

Snap! "Eh? Thanks," I said, the first time a stack flew into my hand, followed by "WoooOOOooo!" which was my surprised reaction when I actually looked at them. The cards (some tastefully, some not so tastefully) extolled the virtues and services of a number of Ladies of the Evening and proclaimed their almost superhuman ability to get to my room (wherever it may be) within 20 minutes, 24 hours a day! That's faster than a pizza! So 'Brooke', 'Suki', and 'Bella' got stuffed into my pocket as collector's items, proof of my experience, and I continued on my way.

Snap! A different guy hands me cards. "What? More? Woo! Thank you!" Carly. Macy. Alexis. Chrissy. Ok, I have a few friends to give those to as joke gifts.

Snap! "Really? Thank you." Cleo. Bailey. Darla. I took another two steps.

Snap! A lady hands me another half dozen cards. "So many! Well, thanks." It quickly became a game to see how many I could collect in my few hours of wandering on The Strip.

Snap! "Thanks." Holly & Hannah (both?). Kara. Suri.

Snap! Uh-oh. This guy saw me take some other cards so he expects I'll take his too. "Sure. Thanks!" Tyra. Nikki. Hope. Bridgette.

Snap! Snap! I get swarmed by a brothel-marketing mob. "Thanks," I politely cry back to them as I run for my life, my hands rapidly filled with more cards than I can handle. Myrtle. Gertrude. Mildred. Just kidding.

After my pockets were filled to capacity I had to start turning them away but in total I did get 220 cards and, in an unexpected twist, 4 newsletters ("Hey, these aren't all women...!").

Of the 220 cards, four were immediately thrown away due to stickiness (yes, ewww) leaving me with a deck of only 216 but on the bright side I'm pretty sure I snagged an ultra-rare "Danielle" rookie card. Snap! Hot. (Nikon D300, 32mm, f/4.2, 1/13 sec., ISO 1600, cropped)

Hannibal, eat your heart out.

Whenever I've had time, I've been sorting through the last few weeks worth of photos. I've taken about 2,500 pictures this month alone. My excuse for not posting is that while I'm travelling there isn't even time for sleep! There's too much to experience. For example, because I never have before, I attended my first Arena Football game last week (so many cheerleaders!), as well as taking advantage of a political rally to get some photos of U.S. Presidential hopeful Barack Obama (none of which turned out, frustrating me).

But to take my mind off of everything there's always a calming trip to the Louisville Zoo to watch the elephants peacefully stand around eating. They and I have a lot in common. We both have a difficult time moving our girth from location to location but, for food, we give it our best; we both wear grey or earth-tones a good portion of the time; we both never forget especially when people wrong us (or when they feed us); we're both well worn with laugh-lines; we both respect a gifted tactician when we see one; and we both poop wherever we're standing. It really is a special bond. (Nikon D300, 200mm, f/5.6, 1/400, ISO 200, cropped)

The Grand Canyon

Here is a panoramic I took from Hopi Point on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon at sunset, in Arizona, USA. Sadly, I had to do some post-processing in Photoshop to fit the pictures together as well as to apply a software-based Graduated Neutral Density filter to recover the over-exposed sky since I didn't have one in the field. How ill-prepared was I? Sheesh. I really don't like manipulating photos mostly because I'm lazy and since I take hundreds of photos, processing them would take forever and suck the fun out of photography like a vampire bunny would suck the juice from a carrot. Successful post-processing makes me feel good about my computer-related abilities but bad about my photography skills since I most likely have failed in some way as a photographer in order to need to edit a picture.

The next day, we got up before sunrise for some more pictures and to get an early start on the rather pleasant hike down Bright Angel Trail to the Three Mile Resthouse, followed shortly thereafter by the excruciatingly painful, body-destroying, soul-crushing, life-altering, dehydratingly-fun ascent back up the canyon again for a total of about six intense hours. I was asleep within an hour of returning to the Yavapai Lodge. It was awesome! (Nikon D300, combined 8 photos, GND filter, straightened horizon, cropped)

Bellagio Fountains

If there's one thing I've learned about staying at hotels it's that the Internet connections are usually poo. I'm having slowness issues with mine tonight and as a result it is now past midnight, I haven't finished this post, and I'm tired and crankier than usual. I was going to get up early too. Oh, well. This is a picture of the fountains in front of the Bellagio along The Strip in Las Vegas, Nevada. (The building on the right is Caesars Palace.) The spraying and arcing jets of water from the fountains are set to coincide with music. I believe playing at the time of this picture was the song Con Te Partirò sung by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli. The Fountains are definitely a must see when in Vegas, if for no other reason than to marvel at the engineering and choreography required for such a display. (Nikon D300, 18mm, f/9, 1/400, ISO 200)