Month: September 2005

The Sound of Silence

The second day of our vacation we hiked Leadbetter Point State Park and the NWR area. On this day we could disregard warnings that potential flooding could make the trail impassible. Though this panoramic view does little more than suggest how beautiful this area is, or, at least can be on a sunny day, I doubt even a movie camera could have done the horizon justice.

The parking lot was empty when we arrived, and we didn’t see or hear anyone until we had nearly finished the five and a half mile walk. For most of the mile long walk across the peninsula there was no sound at all, no ocean roar, no chittering, chattering small birds, no cawing crows, no noisy cars, no roaring jets overhead, nothing more than the sound of silence.

It’s easy to overlook some forms of pollutions, but I’m convinced we suffer from sound pollution the same way we suffer from light pollution. We don’t notice it until we go out at night to observe the moon or stars and end up seeing little more than the reflection of ourselves against the sky. One only needs to try to practice silent meditation to realize city sounds are just as pervasive, intrusive, and corrosive.

As much time as I’ve spent in wilderness areas, I have seldom found a truly quiet place. As beautiful as Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge is, the whirring helicopters overhead and the rifle fire from the Ft. Lewis ranges cannot help but mar the experience.

Here, though, the pervading silence made even the Gull convention that greeted us once we reached our destination seem less raucous:

The first human voices we heard upon our return were as abrasive to me as humans themselves were to Gulliver upon his return from his travels.

What I Did on My Vacation

Leslie and I haven’t been to the beach since moving to Tacoma two years ago, so we decided to spend the last four days touring much of the Washington and Oregon coast. We would have been hard pressed to find a better time to do so as it was sunny and there were far less people than one would expect to find during the summer.

We started our trip at Ocean Shores, a resort I haven’t visited for nearly thirty five years. I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would, partially because we went to a state park/wildlife area and were greeted by a flock of pelicans that entertained us for nearly a half hour, catching far more fish than the fishermen on the shore.

We were told the pelicans had returned to this area about five years ago. I couldn’t remember ever seeing them before.

After a late lunch, we headed down the coast to Longview, stopping at the Willapa National Wildlife Refuge where we were initially greeted by a hawk and Turkey Vulture,

Vulture or not, we considered it an auspicious beginning to what would turn out, however, to be a long, birdless hike. The few birds that were on the tideflats were so far out that even with a telephoto lens they were indistinguishable. Even the small birds that flew along the dike wouldn’t stay still long enough to have their picture taken.

After several miles of walking, we accepted that fact that we just weren’t going to see any birds or animals and started the long journey back. Reluctant to go back without a single picture, I kept stopping and searching for nearby birds. I never saw any, but while doing so I heard the bugle of a bull elk, and spotted a large buck at the wood line

who was soon followed by a small herd of cows. It would have been hard to imagine a better ending to a day where we had found new beauty in old and new places.

Lens Envy

As I’ve gotten deeper and deeper into photography I’ve seen the gap that exists between my equipment and the equipment the top photographers are using. Almost all serious photographers I’ve talked to are using Canon D20’s and using faster 400mm lenses than I have, most considerably faster, and considerably more expensive.

They’ve also steered me to some top-level websites that feature shots taken by other photographers in the Northwest. It’s hard not be intimidated by some of the shots I’ve seen. I’ve never even seen Great Blue Herons as beautiful as the ones pictured, and none of my lenses would allow me to get the kind of crystal clear close-ups they’ve taken.

I’ve had to re-examine my own values and goals in taking photographs. While admitting a fondness of “trophy shots,� that’s not really what I’m attempting to do in my photographs. I’m trying to convey the natural high that I get from being out in nature experiencing nature at its fullest.

Sometimes I think pictures like this

do a better job of conveying that feeling then a spectacular close-up of the same heron would do.

While my shot of a Cedar Waxwing

is not as spectacular or technically outstanding as a shot of two Osprey attacking each other or of a Bald Eagle scooping up a salmon, watching the Waxwings fly back and forth in front of me while feasting on plentiful berries was a highlight of my day.

In fact, I think this rather fuzzy shot of an all-too-common crow shot through layers of branches and leaves is my favorite shot of the day

because I love crows and have no idea why. Born a city boy who spent most of his life shut up in a classroom, my a warm-fuzzy view of nature sometimes seems little more than a romantic longing, but it has served as a constant source of strength throughout my life.

Fiddling

I’d like to say I’m fit as a fiddle, but it’s probably more accurate to admit I’ve been spending a lot of time lately just fiddling around, sometimes accompanied by fiddling-good music.

The music part, at least, began with Tracy Scott Silverman’s Trip to the Sun a CD I nearly got addicted to after checking it out of the library. Silverman’s mournful, strangely uplifting version of George Harrison’s Here Comes the Sun had me hooked the moment I listened to it. I found myself in my den listening repeatedly to the CD rather than to the tweeting, chirping, and cawing I’d recently become so fond of.

After my next trip to the library in search of bagpipe music, I found myself listening to Mason Darling’s The Secret of Roan Inish, music that relies heavily on fiddles for its ambiance. Somehow fiddles seems to match me present mood.

Some may accuse me of fiddling while My Country, ‘Tis of Republican burns, or drowns, but I don’t see how anything I could do will change that. Other than firing off an occasional email to my representatives or Senators, who already lean much further to the left than the nation as a whole, it’s hard to see how much more I can do for now.

I suspect neighbors may well wonder if I’ve “lost it” —though more likely they never thought I “had it” —when they see me sitting on the front porch with a 400mm telephoto lens for thirty to sixty minutes at a time watching male hummingbirds fight over who owns my, or Leslie’s, garden. While I apparently don’t have the reflexes necessary to actually capture their mid-air battles , it’s still amusing to watch each admiring his temporary domain after a skirmish:

I’d much rather watch hummingbirds fight over who owns the front garden than watch politicians fight over who’s to blame in New Orleans, when the answer’s obviously “Yes” or listen to arguments for Intelligent Design by people who obviously aren’t. While it’s nice to know that fundamentalists seem to be finally conceding that dinosaurs existed, they are now insisting that they occupied the Garden of Eden with Adam and, later, Eve. I suppose in the next part of their argument they’ll suggest that Noah simply didn’t have room on the ark for Tyrannosaurus Rex and his buddies.

Probably more ant than grasshopper by nature, I still find myself fiddling, enjoying the moment, building energy for a time when more effort will be needed.

For now, I be doin what needs to be doin, naught much more.

Fiddlin’ around, that’s what I be doing.