Rainmaker

I may have a career in the future as a Rainmaker. I’ve discovered that I have a real talent for creating bad weather. In the last two years, I have been able to visit a few dream locations for me as a photographer. In virtually every instance, rain, clouds, bad weather, and closure for renovations seemed to arrive on the same flight.

In May of 2008, I had the chance to visit Portland, Oregon for a conference. Naturally, I wanted to see Mt. Hood and Cannon Beach. I researched the best locations to photograph these areas from, printed out maps, and packed the right gear for the types of shots I wanted to take. What I didn’t consider was the weather. It was raining and overcast on the only morning I had to go to Mt. Hood. Concerned, but determined, I pressed on. As I neared Mt. Hood, it was completely obscured in dense clouds and rain. And when I reached the dirt road leading to the lake where I wanted to shoot the reflection of the mountain, an iron gate and closed sign blocked my way. On the other side, the roadway was filled with ten feet of snow. Two days later, I visited Cannon Beach. Naturally, it was blanketed in fog.

Right now, I’m in Duluth, Minnesota. It’s an amazing town dominated by Lake Superior, an amazing body of water, and the shipping industry it brings. We’re only a hundred or so miles from Canada. And for someone born and raised in the South, it might as well be Mars. Most of last week, the high temperatures in Georgia were in the upper eighties. Since getting to Minnesota, the highest temperature has been about 53 degrees. Pretty cold, eh?

Sunday, I drove up the coast toward Canada. My goal was Split Rock Lighthouse, a magnificent and historic viewpoint perched on a cliff high above Lake Superior. I arrived to see overcast skies, very flat lighting, and scaffolding. Not only were conditions lousy for great photos, but the lighthouse was wrapped top to bottom in scaffolding as the exterior was being restored. I did what any photographer would do. I tried to be creative and shoot around the challenges—and cursed my bad luck.

On Monday, the weather worsened. In fact, the temperature never climbed above 45 degrees and the 30 knot winds drove the continuous rain and the eight foot waves in amazing fashion. Again, undeterred, I lugged the Nikon out into the elements and tried to capture the beauty of the lake and the passing ships along with the fury of the weather. At first glance, it looks like I got a few really interesting, noisy shots of fog, windblown waves, wet breakwaters, and blurry lighthouses through the mist and fogged lens.

It’s Tuesday now, and the weather has cleared some. The sun popped out a couple of times this morning and Lake Superior is relatively flat. I’ve got one final day here to hopefully capture a great sunset. I might even work in some long exposures tonight if weather permits.I don’t know when the next trip will be to another great photography location. Perhaps, instead of waiting for something to come along, I should research where the worst droughts are occurring. I can bring rain. And I have the photos to prove it.