I once had a discussion with a fellow photographer who claimed be a “purist” in his craft as “Ansel Adams was a purist.” This guy didn’t have a whole lot going on defining his approach to photography, as Ansel Adams was anything but a purist. He was an artist who burned and dodged like a madman in the darkroom to get the outcome he envisioned.

While it’s good to have “vision”, the landscape photographer often needs to dig down deeper for just a little more. In my few days in the Pisgah region of the Blue Ridge last week, I discovered that members of a camera club were staying at the same hotel I was. On a particularly cloudy morning (which translates to fog as these mountains are high enough to reach into clouds), they stood in the parking lot in debate as to what they should do. That’s one reason I don’t do “camera clubs”… too many opinions will no doubt skew outcomes. I would say that not every such “outcome” is likely bad, but these folks should have been better prepared regardless of the conditions. I knew the weather conditions days in advance. I also knew that conditions in these mountains can be iffy. Overcast days are not what one hopes for if they’re vision is for the perfect mountain sunrise, yet they are just right for waterfalls… and fog can be a bonus in that effort! That’s what’s great about the Pisgah region… it has high ridges and waterfalls within short drives of each other. When one situation doesn’t work out, you can switch it up quickly if you know the area.

Their group was gathered outside the main entrance underneath the awning, so they couldn’t help but notice me walking through with my camera gear over my shoulder. “Where are you going”, one of them asked me. I told them somewhere within 10 miles south on the parkway from 276. “What are you after”, someone else asked. I told them, “The same thing you’re after… all the shots. But if you don’t leave soon after me, I’m going to get all your shots, too!”

I appreciate Ansel Adams, especially of how he elevated photography as art. That’s what I’m attempting to do, too. I have incorporated his maxim for photography into my own approach, “f/8 and being there.” For those who do not understand, “f/8” is a sharp focal stop on large format camera lenses… that means that you need to understand your equipment to compose a meaningful image. The other half of that maxim, “being there”, is self-evident. The camera is a great motivator for “being there”… but plan ahead!

By the way, open blue skies make for blah sunrises, too… but there are workarounds. This was taken the following day a few miles further down the Blue Ridge Parkway than the previous day and a little ways down Highway 215 toward Rosman to where Courthouse Valley opens up… the far high peak is the Devil’s Courthouse. That "Devil" was the slant-eyed giant Judaculla of Cherokee lore, who "holds court" on hapless souls up there. I've hiked up there dozens of times, yet I have never run across him... must have been his day off each time. The likely reason I've never run into him is this very image which proves I'm anything but "hapless".

The Blue Ridge Parkway is on the far side of that ridge. While many were on the parkway that morning with cameras pointing into the rising sun with no clouds to reflect color, I chose this location to let the sun backlight the ridges, the near one giving me the color that the sky lacked. As I’m standing on the edge of a steep rocky cliff here, I got my shots and pushed on to Courthouse Falls. That waterfall isn’t affected by direct sunlight until midmorning, so I got a twofer that day. “Being there” can be tough sometimes, but oh what a blessing it can be!

Photobombed by a nuclear bomb! Well, essentially, that’s what a star is. I don’t often shoot straight into the sun, though backlighting here by brilliant morning sunshine put some defining touches to a Blue Ridge landscape… just seemed the right thing to do.

This is from the Courthouse Valley Overlook at milepost 423.5 along the Blue Ridge Parkway. At an elevation of 5362 feet (1634 meters), it provides a great place to look down on the sun.

I had nose surgery last week, septoplasty with turbinate reduction... long story short, straightening up a few foibles of a misspent youth! As with most any surgery, I can’t do things that usually make me, well, me for a while. The point of the surgery was to make me better and already I’ve noticed my sense of smell and taste have been joyfully magnified. To continue down that path, I’ve been minding both my doctor and my nurse wife. While recovering, I've been going over some images I've overlooked. It seems to be time well spent… and it’s a tangible way to bring back memories.

Have you ever known folks to say, “It’s just another day”? On days like this, I’m up and out at 0’dark-thirty and sprinting toward a predetermined spot to plant my tripod mounted camera… I don’t do that because I’m principled as a photographer, but rather because I’m excited about the question of possibilities. The answer to that question is the same as so many others, yes, no, indifferent… you must be there to know for sure. A morning like this sets the tone for the rest of the day, a search for acceptable compositions for the camera, then a scramble for a predetermined spot for sunset. It’s no less than a hunt, and images like this are the trophies.

Waiting for the sun to rise, my mind often goes back to an old Dan Fogelberg song, To the Morning, from the album Home Free of 1972. The lyrics of the song might seem unremarkable, but the song is intended as an allegory comparing life with the evolution of day to night back to day… there’s a sweetness to it. What is remarkable to me is the music… if a day, from sunrise to sunset could be set to music, this could well fit it. Find the link to the song below.

To the Morning

Watching the sun Watching it come Watching it come up over the rooftops.

Cloudy and warm Maybe a storm You can never quite tell From the morning.

Chorus And it's going to be a day There is really no way to say no To the morning.

Yes, it's going to be a day There is really nothing left to Say but Come on morning.

Waiting for mail Maybe a tale From an old friend Or even a lover.

Sometimes there's none But we have fun Thinking of all who might Have written.

And maybe there are seasons And maybe they change And maybe to love is not so strange.

The sounds of the day They hurry away Now they are gone until tomorrow.

When day will break And you will wake And you will rake your hands Across your eyes And realize

That it's going to be a day There is really no way to say no To the morning.

Yes, it's going to be a day There is really nothing left to say but Come on morning.

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