Second Friday in October
Douglas Bauman, October 11, 2004
We were all ready for a great outing, and really looking forward to it too. After figuring out who would drive, we collected ourselves and all of our photo equipment in my Jeep and were ready to go. First we stopped to buy donuts and coffee, not really the healthiest of breakfasts, but tasty. The drive towards Greensburg was a nice prelude to our day as we beheld a most wonderful cloud formation which arced over the sky and bellowed the reddish colors of morning. As we approached Ligonier we encountered a vast area enveloped in fog. 
Some said the fog would be helpful for the photo shoot in the wee hours of the morning, but this fog was so think we soon started to think otherwise. Luckily, when we turned off of Route 22 on to the Hunt Club Road area, the fog diminished and disappeared altogether. The journey though this scenic stretch is always enjoyable, and especially so in the early fall when the sugar maple trees along the road turn vivid hues of yellow, orange and red. After passing the small town of Rector, we soon approached Linn Run State Park, our destination for the nature walk and photo shoot.
No other vehicles were present this early morning, when the sun had not even broken over the horizon. Linn Run is thoroughly wooded, and it would probably take a while yet before the sun sent shimmering beams down through the trees. Our goal was to find a rustic walking bridge at the end of a trail that only one of our members had walked before. The trail ran adjacent to the stream which runs down this rhododendron lined vale. Our hope was to time things just right, in an attempt to film the bridge nestled in the sun's rays penetrating through the mist. The picturesque trail along the stream was beautifully wooded and made for a nice nature hike. The hike would normally have taken only half as long as it did, but everyone started taking pictures of everything the area had to show, including mushrooms, leaves and each other. The bridge which has been displayed on our web site for the last six months loomed before us (www.westmorelandconservancy.org). "Oh yes, that is it," but the photo on the web site, taken from the other side by a great photographer and member of the conservancy, was taken at just the perfect magic moment, as described before. It took me a moment or two to acclimate myself and imagine the same scene. Sometimes reality doesn't fulfill one's expectations, or is it the other way around?
Just beyond the bridge is a wonderful area know as Flatrock. The stream there flows up to and trough a channel which I am told is used in the summer as a great water slide. The huge rock surface was indeed generally flat all around, and quite photogenic. Everyone disbanded and assembled their various photo paraphernalia in the desired combination and began shooting pictures. I've never been on a photo shoot with various friends before, and what struck me as almost whimsical at first was the odd orientation of all of us photographers, scattered here and there, pointing our equipment at different angles at independent subjects seeking suitable compositions. At length I became accustomed to our common yet independent photo quest and my initial introspection faded. I simply blended in, making sure not to invade the radius of another's photo-space, and started taking pictures of my own. My camera is a digital and I am quite used to its operation, but have not had much exposure to film cameras, so I was pleased when one of my friends offered to show me the operation of her camera, and let me snap a few photos. I anxiously await their outcome.
Soon it was apparent that the perfect ray would not attire the otherwise captivating bridge, so we hiked back and onward to Adams falls, currently a pool of water which trickled down to the cavernous area below. Some photographed the reflections in the still pool, others circled around to the bottom to film from below. Three members of our bunch of photo enthusiasts regularly kept their cameras attached to a tripod. Since I am still new to this, especially the low-lighting situations beneath the canopy of the woods, I have yet to adopt this approach. Many of my photos are not what could be called 'tack' sharp, but with the digital camera I have the luxury of taking as many photos as I please because there is no cost to developing. In sunlight and bright lighting conditions I tend to achieve my desired result, but as I continue to learn the art of photography I find that I ought to adapt. If I had adopted this modus operandi in this endeavor I would not have lost many of the compositions I had desired to make.
That said, I happened to notice a few of the idiosyncrasies that exemplified this technique. Perhaps the procedure should prescribe that the photographer take the time to remove the tripod before approaching the next subject, then fully attach the device again before proceeding. However, I noticed that my compadres did not use the full-fledged procedure and simply kept the tripod attached all the time. For flat terrain this might work well, but now we were traversing steep areas especially at the falls. One member ascended a dead log that was entrenched at about a 45 degree angle in an attempt to relocate herself back out of the basin below the falls. Two of us helped her retain her balance to make the final hurdle from the top of the log to solid ground at the top, all the while with the camera and tripod in her other hand.
Another authority concocted a wholly new method which avoided the above stated procedure, as a way to preclude the necessity of removing the tripod from the camera. When it was his inclination to turn the camera 90 degrees to get a portrait orientation of a scene, the whole assembly was hoisted together, with one hand steadying the tripod off to his left and the other hand operating the camera unaided. Wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose of a tripod, to make the camera completely still? The comical effect to the rest of us did not go unnoticed. In fact we joked about it amongst ourselves, and a few photos of this authoritative subject were recorded for posterity.
We concluded this portion of our day at Linn Run and drove back down to the Hunt Club Road area, where a wonderful section of the wide stream was smooth. Photos of this pristine habitat would be sure to be stunning especially considering our luck that the sun was blazing upon a section of maple trees which reflected splendidly in the glass-like still water.
Fortune was fickle, as one of our members lost hold of a lens and it dropped in the water. Removing her shoes, rolling up her pants, and with my hold on her hand, she dipped in and quickly fetched the lens. But the water was apparently deeper and colder than predicted, she let out a briefly anguished 'whoa' and her jeans were soaked. We all offered our regrets, and she promised not to let it ruin her day. One member even snuck a picture of me helping her back up out of the water, much to her chagrin.
Next we stopped by Ligonier Days where we browsed the shops and craft areas, and then enjoyed a great sit down lunch.
Well if you ever get a chance to go out with our photo group, be sure to do so as you might just have a great time.
Click to see photos taken during the outing.
Some said the fog would be helpful for the photo shoot in the wee hours of the morning, but this fog was so think we soon started to think otherwise. Luckily, when we turned off of Route 22 on to the Hunt Club Road area, the fog diminished and disappeared altogether. The journey though this scenic stretch is always enjoyable, and especially so in the early fall when the sugar maple trees along the road turn vivid hues of yellow, orange and red. After passing the small town of Rector, we soon approached Linn Run State Park, our destination for the nature walk and photo shoot.No other vehicles were present this early morning, when the sun had not even broken over the horizon. Linn Run is thoroughly wooded, and it would probably take a while yet before the sun sent shimmering beams down through the trees. Our goal was to find a rustic walking bridge at the end of a trail that only one of our members had walked before. The trail ran adjacent to the stream which runs down this rhododendron lined vale. Our hope was to time things just right, in an attempt to film the bridge nestled in the sun's rays penetrating through the mist. The picturesque trail along the stream was beautifully wooded and made for a nice nature hike. The hike would normally have taken only half as long as it did, but everyone started taking pictures of everything the area had to show, including mushrooms, leaves and each other. The bridge which has been displayed on our web site for the last six months loomed before us (www.westmorelandconservancy.org). "Oh yes, that is it," but the photo on the web site, taken from the other side by a great photographer and member of the conservancy, was taken at just the perfect magic moment, as described before. It took me a moment or two to acclimate myself and imagine the same scene. Sometimes reality doesn't fulfill one's expectations, or is it the other way around?
Just beyond the bridge is a wonderful area know as Flatrock. The stream there flows up to and trough a channel which I am told is used in the summer as a great water slide. The huge rock surface was indeed generally flat all around, and quite photogenic. Everyone disbanded and assembled their various photo paraphernalia in the desired combination and began shooting pictures. I've never been on a photo shoot with various friends before, and what struck me as almost whimsical at first was the odd orientation of all of us photographers, scattered here and there, pointing our equipment at different angles at independent subjects seeking suitable compositions. At length I became accustomed to our common yet independent photo quest and my initial introspection faded. I simply blended in, making sure not to invade the radius of another's photo-space, and started taking pictures of my own. My camera is a digital and I am quite used to its operation, but have not had much exposure to film cameras, so I was pleased when one of my friends offered to show me the operation of her camera, and let me snap a few photos. I anxiously await their outcome.
Soon it was apparent that the perfect ray would not attire the otherwise captivating bridge, so we hiked back and onward to Adams falls, currently a pool of water which trickled down to the cavernous area below. Some photographed the reflections in the still pool, others circled around to the bottom to film from below. Three members of our bunch of photo enthusiasts regularly kept their cameras attached to a tripod. Since I am still new to this, especially the low-lighting situations beneath the canopy of the woods, I have yet to adopt this approach. Many of my photos are not what could be called 'tack' sharp, but with the digital camera I have the luxury of taking as many photos as I please because there is no cost to developing. In sunlight and bright lighting conditions I tend to achieve my desired result, but as I continue to learn the art of photography I find that I ought to adapt. If I had adopted this modus operandi in this endeavor I would not have lost many of the compositions I had desired to make.
That said, I happened to notice a few of the idiosyncrasies that exemplified this technique. Perhaps the procedure should prescribe that the photographer take the time to remove the tripod before approaching the next subject, then fully attach the device again before proceeding. However, I noticed that my compadres did not use the full-fledged procedure and simply kept the tripod attached all the time. For flat terrain this might work well, but now we were traversing steep areas especially at the falls. One member ascended a dead log that was entrenched at about a 45 degree angle in an attempt to relocate herself back out of the basin below the falls. Two of us helped her retain her balance to make the final hurdle from the top of the log to solid ground at the top, all the while with the camera and tripod in her other hand.
Another authority concocted a wholly new method which avoided the above stated procedure, as a way to preclude the necessity of removing the tripod from the camera. When it was his inclination to turn the camera 90 degrees to get a portrait orientation of a scene, the whole assembly was hoisted together, with one hand steadying the tripod off to his left and the other hand operating the camera unaided. Wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose of a tripod, to make the camera completely still? The comical effect to the rest of us did not go unnoticed. In fact we joked about it amongst ourselves, and a few photos of this authoritative subject were recorded for posterity.
We concluded this portion of our day at Linn Run and drove back down to the Hunt Club Road area, where a wonderful section of the wide stream was smooth. Photos of this pristine habitat would be sure to be stunning especially considering our luck that the sun was blazing upon a section of maple trees which reflected splendidly in the glass-like still water.
Fortune was fickle, as one of our members lost hold of a lens and it dropped in the water. Removing her shoes, rolling up her pants, and with my hold on her hand, she dipped in and quickly fetched the lens. But the water was apparently deeper and colder than predicted, she let out a briefly anguished 'whoa' and her jeans were soaked. We all offered our regrets, and she promised not to let it ruin her day. One member even snuck a picture of me helping her back up out of the water, much to her chagrin.Next we stopped by Ligonier Days where we browsed the shops and craft areas, and then enjoyed a great sit down lunch.
Well if you ever get a chance to go out with our photo group, be sure to do so as you might just have a great time.
