Adrian Scholes

Did I Mention I Love It Here?

I live in Essex County, Massachusetts, and I love it here. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’ve travelled extensively over the years, but nowhere has captivated me like this region. I’m going to steal from a page of the Essex National Heritage Commission (ENHC) web site, as they sum it up perfectly: “…the Essex National Heritage Area covers the 500 square miles of eastern Massachusetts that lies north of Boston. It's not one location, but thousands of historical sites. Not a mile-long beach, but miles and miles of intact landscapes and glistening coastal areas. Not one story and tradition, but lifetimes of rich experiences that chronicle the history of our region, and our nation.”

Makes you want to live here, or at least visit, right?  :o)

There is so much to see and do in these 500 square miles, so much to learn, and I’m on a mission to do just that. I’ve been posting photographs of recent visits to local landmarks, and this week was a particularly good one for learning.

On Sunday, I joined members of the Essex County Greenbelt Association (ECGA) for a guided tour of the Indian Hill Farm Reservation; one of their properties in West Newbury. As we followed trails through some of the 45 acres, we learned the history of the estate and its fascinating (and maybe a little eccentric) owner, Major Ben Perley Poore. In addition to his prominence as a 19^th century newspaper correspondent and editor, Major Poore was an avid horticulturist and spent years landscaping and planting the hillsides of his property, and creating formal gardens and the winding cart-paths we were walking on. I always enjoy the history of these places, and value the work ECGA is doing to preserve it for us. 

 

Wednesday evening found me at the annual meeting of the Merrimack River Watershed Council, learning more about the important work these folks are doing to monitor, preserve and protect this magnificent river that continues to play such an important role in the history and economy of Essex County. We were also treated to an outstanding presentation on the status and struggles of the Atlantic and Shortnose sturgeon, which migrate from the ocean to spawn at a location a mile from where I live. A truly prehistoric fish, Sturgeon have managed to survive for 2 million years, and until threatened to near extinction by over-fishing, dams and pollution. Another feather for our proud-humanity cap!

Finally, last night was spent in most agreeable company at the Jewell Towne Vineyards; New Hampshire's oldest winery. Although technically in NH, the property spans the border into Essex County, just outside Amesbury. The visit was arranged by the Essex National Heritage Commission, mentioned above; another organization dedicated to “building, growing and sustaining our sense of place”. The tour was engaging, the food excellent, and the wine pairings exceptional. We of course came home with a few new bottles for the cellar (ok, the basement).

Most importantly though, at all of these events I meet the people who are dedicating their lives to promoting, preserving and protecting this amazing region. At dinner last night, we shared our table with Elizabeth Rankin from ENHC. It was impossible to ignore the enthusiasm and conviction in her voice and eyes as she discussed the work of the organization and her role in it. I’ve observed this in every person I’ve met from every one of these organizations.

And this is what will keep me going back, learning more, and doing my small part to help them do what they do best. Did I mention I love it here?

Staying Local

I was in the field for sunrise again this morning, visiting the Ordway Reservation in West Newbury. This remarkable ECGA property is adjacent to I95, but the roar of traffic immediately fades as you step into 55 acres of open fields and upland forest. This is the New England of an earlier age, with classic stone walls marking the boundaries of once-cleared land.

As I walked the trails, I thought of the similarities between this place and other locations I’ve photographed; many of which involved an obscenely early start and a long journey to my destination. In comparison, this morning’s drive was less than 20 minutes. I arrived in time for that golden transition of twilight to sunrise, enjoyed a productive hour of photography, and was home to begin a normal day by 8:30am.

Over the years, I’ve read numerous variations of a learning assignment that recommends spending some time limiting your photography to a confined space – such as no farther than 50 feet from your door. The intent of these exercises is to enhance our ability to see. On the other hand, photography magazines and books constantly wow us with images of majestic mountains reflecting in glass-smooth glacial lakes. These grandiose photographs are often what drive us to purchase our first camera and spend hours attempting to recreate the something similar.

The images I’m seeking nowadays are very different. I’m not sure if what I’m experiencing is a kind of photographic maturity, but the idea of thinking in terms of a project - revisiting a place, exploring every corner, and returning in different conditions - has been a sort of photography rebirth for me. Rather than the one-hit wonder, I’m there to document a location's character, and communicate a sense of place to my viewers. My hope is they will be inspired to visit and explore these wonderful locations themselves.

And best of all, I’m learning I can do all this by staying local.

Curiosity and Conservation

One of the many pleasures of photography is the search for new and distinct photographs, which naturally leads to the discovery of new and distinct locations. Curiosity lies at the very heart of photography. It drives our 360 degree vision as we hike trails. It encourages us to return to the same location at different times of day and in a variety of weather conditions until we get the images we see in our minds eye. It inspires us to learn more about our subjects. What was that flower? Who lived above those ruined foundations? Where is the source of that river?

Visiting an interesting locale for the first time is a fabulous experience, especially when it’s on our proverbial doorstep.  I called on the good people at Essex County Greenbelt Association (ECGA) today, and learned of a few such places; all of which are less than 25 minutes from the house. I’ll be exploring every one of them in the coming weeks.

I began this evening, with a visit to the ‘Riverbend Conservation Area’ in West Newbury. Not marked on any map I own, I’ve driven past the area many times. An abandoned and much deteriorated town road has recently been cleared by volunteers, and now provides access to more than 4 miles of trails. Following one of these trails alongside the Merrimack River and through woodlands sprinkled with the crimson and gold of a New England Fall, I was reminded once again of the vital work carried out by conservation groups around the region. This trail system is a particularly good example, resulting from the combined efforts of multiple organizations. Even the local Boy Scouts played a part; marking the trails to help folks like me to find our way around.

I arrived a little too late to explore the complete property, but saw enough to know this is a location worthy of many more visits. Once again, my curiosity has been sparked and I will be back.

The Fruits of Manual Labor (or, Say No to Automation)

I keep my camera and lenses set to manual. That doesn’t mean I won’t switch to auto when appropriate, but I’m often shooting in low and challenging light or photographing a subject with little or no contrast, such as moving water. These conditions will play havoc with auto focus, causing the lens to rotate back and forth as it searches for something to lock onto. There are other advantages too. Landscapes frequently call for maximum depth of field, and I like to manually set my focus point as I’m composing, rather than hoping one of the built in focus points will be in the right place. I can focus, compose, set the aperture and shutter speed, and fire the shutter in one easy sequence.

Focusing manually takes practice for it to become second nature. My technique is simple. I start with the subject (or the point I’m using for correct depth of field) blurred, turn the focus ring until it looks good, and – this is the tip -  keep turning until things start to blur again. Then I bring it back. This way, I know I’ve nailed the focus to be exactly where I need it.

Although this is a simple method for focusing, it’s a philosophy that can apply to the complete process of finding and taking the photograph. It’s easy to spot a subject, point, focus, and click. But, why not keep walking? Go past the first spot you find, walk around a bit, and come back. Blur the lines, break the rules, and view it from different angles. And never forget to turn around. A couple of years back, I was photographing Bass Harbor light in Maine. After a few shots, I turned 180 degrees to see an enormous pink moon hanging just above rocky coastline. It remains one of my favorite photographs, and 5 minutes later it was gone.

Last week, I stopped at ‘The Basin’, a well known tourist spot in Franconia Notch, where I93 cuts through the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I watched carloads of visitors climb out of their vehicles, walk the hundred or so yards to the basin, snap a picture, and head back.  If you keep going past the falls, you’re on the Cascades Trail, one of my favorite hikes in the Whites. For approximately a mile, the trail follows a rocky stream and a succession of waterfalls, varying in height from small cascades to the more significant Kinsman Falls and Rocky Glen Falls.

I’ve also followed the trail until it eventually meets Lonesome Lake, where you can loop around and follow a different trail system back to the Basin. It’s a 5 or 6 mile hike that takes some beating for its varied and dramatic scenery.

So, think about shifting that switch over to manual every now and then. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Science, Beauty, and the Meaning of Life

After a valiant effort to extend summer into October, Mother Nature has officially given up and delivered more traditional fall weather to New England. In response, our trees have decided it’s finally time to take a break from all that photosynthesizing and prepare for their long winter’s rest. No more chlorophyll production. The carotenoids in their leaves can now entertain us with a vivid display of yellow, orange and gold, while the extended summer means we should also see vibrant reds and purple in the mix, as trees produce more anthocyanins to recover any remaining nutrients from their leaves. Of course, this is all before the leaves give up and decide it’s just easier to jump.

It’s impossible to write that last sentence without thinking of the brilliant Terry Gilliam and his animated ‘suicidal leaves’ sketch in Monthy Python’s ‘The Meaning of Life’.

Anyways…

As mentioned in my previous post, I recently made the first of many pilgrimages to photograph this fall color. In previous years, I’ve waited (or not had the chance) until the area I visited was at so called ‘peak’ color. This year, I was determined to get out there early. There was good reason for this. I happen to prefer the beginnings of the color change. Sure, it’s an amazing sight when the hillsides are awash with crimson and gold, but, at the risk of alienating leaf peepers everywhere, I find it all looks the same after a while. What I really enjoy is finding a lone tree, dripping scarlet against a backdrop of green. That’s when the colors truly pop and we appreciate the science and beauty of this change.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be back to take more pictures. In fact, I’ll keep going back until the trees have lost their color, lost their leaves, and it’s possible to find a parking space again. And I’ll do it all again next year. Because this is New England in the fall.

Pride & Prejudice in New England

About now, TV channels and web forums are abuzz with predictions and opinions about fall color in New England. September’s Yankee Magazine has an excellent article entitled “The Top 25 Towns for Foliage”, and this is representative of what we see and read elsewhere; the best drives, finest fall hikes, views no leaf peeper should miss…

Fall in New England is indeed spectacular, and I always look forward to those special trips to see what photographic splendor is waiting to be captured. I enjoy the fact that it is all so unpredictable. Despite an overabundance of colorful interactive maps and confident predictions, Mother Nature is firmly in control here.  Headed out in the early hours of the morning, you never know what you’ll find and whether you are too early, late, or just in time. Hike a half mile in any direction from an area past its prime, and you’ll likely find a magnificent display of crimson and gold.

I often wonder how many born and bred New Englanders truly appreciate this annual exhibit. I grew up on the doorstep of an area called the Peak District in England. This is the stuff of picture postcards and calendars; rolling hills and valleys, lazy trout rivers, rocky outcrops, picturesque villages and stone walls straddling the hillsides in every direction. If you’ve seen the recent adaptation of “Pride & Prejudice” or any episode of James Herriot’s vet stories (although these take place in an adjacent county), then you know the kind of scenery. It’s truly beautiful area, but back then it was simply home. Only now, after living over here for 16 years, do I truly appreciate its beauty.

Last year, I took only one trip - to the White Mountains in NH – in search of photographs, and I realized I’m in danger of falling into that same apathetic routine. I’ve recently had reason to think much about this area and how fortunate I am to live here. New England is an exceptional corner of the world and, like many natural places, is in a constant fight to retain that distinctiveness.

As a landscape photographer, I can think of no better use for my work than to remind folks of where they live, remind them to appreciate the enduring beauty of New England, and to ensure it stays that way for my daughter and generations to come.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I have some photos to take.

When Seasons Fall Apart

I’m listening to wind and rain pummel the house, while reading status updates from friends south of here experiencing snowfalls of a foot or more. Is this really New England? Three significant snow storms in as many weeks have passed us by.

 

Ordinarily this wouldn’t be a big deal. In fact, we’d probably be pretty darned happy about it. The problem, though, is that I have little more than a week left of my photography class, and I need new images to complete my assignments. And not just any old images either. Because of what I’ve started, I need winter scenery. I need snow and ice.

 

Anyone that’s lived in the north knows that there comes a time when the winter wonderland becomes anything but. The snow is splattered with dirt and oil, and the ground is a patchwork of polluted snow and barren earth. In short, it is a landscape photographer’s nightmare.

 

As I think more about it. This particular seasonal transition is the most difficult of the year.  Early spring brings new buds and color, and leads through to the lushness of summer. Fall brings the explosion of fiery trees, and winter begins with the wonderland I mentioned earlier. Late winter is when it all falls apart – for me, at least.

 

Of course, it doesn’t mean all is lost. For the remainder of the course, I’ll be focusing on a set of more intimate detail photographs to complement the portfolio I’ve already started. It will be a departure for me, and that’s something I enjoy about photography. There is always a new challenge; a new way of seeing.

 

I just wish I had more than a week to figure this particular one out.