The Many Faces of Lake Michigan

At one time, there were as many as 247 lighthouses along the coast of Michigan. There are still 115, many still in operation. As an unapologetic lighthouse lover, I jump at the chance to go anywhere there's a lighthouse to enjoy-- and photograph. So on a recent trip to Charlevoix, Michigan, I took several evening, much to the chagrin of the family, to take a few photos.

One thing for certain about Lake Michigan is the ever changing weather. One morning, there were six to eight foot waves and frost on the ground. But by sunset, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I'm envious of the photographers who have an opportunity to shoot these majestic emblems of a bygone past.

One of these days, I'm going to get back to Michigan and make a point of shooting more of these lighthouses. For now, I've got a few more shots of these sentinels from yesterday.

Patience

I’ve been away from civilization for a few days—no cellphone service and no Internet—which explains the prolonged vacuum here on the blog. I spent a couple of days last week touring Door County, Wisconsin. It’s not a place you happen through, but rather a destination that requires some determination. It’s also a quiet, outdoor recreation vacation destination for Midwesterners. There are no large hotels or amusement parks here. But a scattering of quaint towns, small hotels, and beautiful parks ring a peninsula otherwise filled with agriculture and nature.

I spent the night in Sturgeon Bay, which is one of the prettiest, cleanest, and friendliest towns you will ever encounter. With less than 10,000 residents, Sturgeon Bay is a shipping town on a canal than connects Green Bay with the open water of Lake Michigan. And since I’m a sucker for a lighthouse, the breakwater light at the end of the canal was a must-see for me.

Within five minutes of getting out of the rental car at the Sturgeon Bay breakwater, clouds covered the sun. I found a couple of ideal compositions, but the flat lighting from the dark clouds made for very uninteresting lighting. Off to the west, there was a tiny gap in the clouds, slowly moving my way. So I did what my photography experience taught—I struck up a conversation with a fisherman at the end of the breakwater and waited. Thirty minutes later, the gap came close enough and warm, diffuse late afternoon sunlight streamed down on the lighthouse. Two minutes later, it was gone. But I had my shot. Six days have gone by and I have not seen blue sky or a sunset or taken a photo that didn’t involve clouds or rain. But in my mind, I got my shot. And like a growing collection of photo destinations, I will be back.