I spent the morning before opening my gallery today, wandering the Ammonoosuc River and the tributaries that flow into it.

Starting before dawn, I drove up through Crawford Notch and headed to the Cog Road to explore some areas I had been to before, but was waiting for a fresh snow, and some unfrozen streams. I hiked the Jewell to the small foot bridge that crosses the stream, and attempted to scramble down the embankment, without falling into the cold water (8 degrees this morning). All the while, making sure to not leave footprints in the fresh snow, that I would be photographing.

With pack on, and tripod in hand, I slid down the snowy embankment, and plopped’ into the shallow edge of the stream. Fortunately it wasn’t deep enough to overflow my Koflach boots, as I felt my Micro spikes scraping the rocky bottom. I gained my balance and tested the nearby snow to assure it would withstand my weight. On the first test using my tripod, the ice broke easily, revealing a deeper pool that would certainly fill my boot to the brim. I shifted to another spot, and found tenuous but solid footing.

I set up my tripod, extending the legs directly into the slick stream, straddling a rock to gain a good vantage point. In the few moments it took to take my camera out and place it on the tripod, grabbing the cold carbon fiber, I felt my fingers quickly beginning to freeze. I made quick work of the settings and focus with my bare hands, before jamming them back into my down pockets for relief.

I took a few bracketed images for different water flows, and was soon scrambling back up the embankment (again trying to leave no prints), as I headed upstream to shoot from the other direction. As I set my tripod up again, and tried to extend the legs, I realized significant ice had already formed on them, and I would have to settle for the height I was given. Satisfied with my upstream composition, even with a fixed-tripod height, I started to shoot again, only to find the shutter locking up, as my batteries had drained quickly in the cold temps. A good photographer comes prepared for most circumstances, and I pulled a warm battery from the inside pocket of my down vest, inserted it, and shot away.

Lastly, I took some close-up water/ice flow images, before packing up and hiking back out to my car. I tossed my gear in the car, with the tripod legs still fully frozen and extended, and cranked the heat to high. After a brief warm up, and a sip of my now cold coffee, I drove back down the road, stopping by the Ammonoosuc Gorge, to take some additional winter images of the gorge, I had shot before in the summer and fall.

Satisfied with my woods therapy and frosty cold rejuvenation, I headed back in time to open my gallery. Great way to start the day:)

The last time I mucked around this stream deep in a ravine, was 7 years ago. At the time, it was a drier summer and the moss wasn’t nearly as vibrant. I’ve been meaning to get back to it ever since, and this summer has been so cool and wet, the moss everywhere is truly electric this year.

The most important thing with photographing streams, is to make sure you are shooting on a cloudy day with no direct sun. The highlights off the water are simply too bright in contrast to the dark shadows, so something has to suffer. I don’t get much time off from my gallery in the summer months, and have been looking for one of those cloudy days to fall on my day off. I know, most people would be glad to get nothing but sunshine on their days off, and I too revel in swimming the sunny rivers on those days. But I was getting frustrated after 5 weeks of it not happening, knowing there may not be a better opportunity for years. So recently, I decided to drive to this location after work instead, and hike the 2.5 miles to this location. My plan was to arrive late enough in the evening, to shoot the stream after the sun had set beyond the height of the steep ravine, eliminating the contrasting light, but before it got dark.

I made a few mistakes that day though. First, I biked up Bear Notch in the morning. Then I ate an early lunch, and in my haste packing, I forgot to add an afternoon snack. Next, with map and compass always on hand, and my familiarity with terrain, I cursorily looked at the map before starting. I also planned on using my cup to drink water from the streams as I went, and forego my water bottle. Lastly, and most importantly, I forgot to safety text my plan to my best friend in case something happened. Well, I realized three of these things when I got out of the car at the trail head, but was so intent on getting the shot, I decided to go anyway. After all, I’ve been doing this for years and would be extra cautious.

But I didn’t look at the map closely, and misjudged my water availability, so I didn’t get very far before I began to get thirsty and hungry, my stomach growling. I also realized a 1/2 mile in, coming upon a trail sign, I had miscalculated the distance. My 3.8 miles RT, would now be 5. Not a big deal on most days, but already having biked a vigorous uphill in the morning, and with no food or water, I could feel my pace slowing. The struggle was real, but I’ve pushed through far worse in my life, so plodded on. After a good hour+ of uphill hiking with all my gear, not seeing a single hiker this late in the evening, parched, hungry, and beginning to bonk, I came across the brook I had been seeking. I drank long and deep from it’s clear cold waters, fully satiating my thirst. I surveyed the situation, and it was just as green and mossy as I imagined.

With the deep wood evening light already waning, I gently climbed down off the trail into the brook bed, scouting compositions as I went. After some time, I settled on my first composition, placing my tripod mid stream, straddling slick rocks, and took a few photos. It was so beautiful, the rich emerald green contrasting with deep black rock, and a crystal clear water flow. I wanted to spend hours going up and down the stream. But being so deep in the ravine, the light was already fading fast. It was super slippery too (A mossy brook bed, shocking I know), even with my Limmer boots on.

I looked downstream, and as I crept further on, my situation came to mind: The air was cool and damp, in the 50’s, and supposed to drop into the low 40’s in the mountains (perfect hypothermia weather), I had not seen a single hiker, was now off trail, no one knew I was here, and it would be dark soon. I wanted to continue on, and didn’t relish the thought of trying to duplicate this effort another day, but being hungry and tired, if I slipped and got hurt, even with all my gear, I knew I could quickly be in deep trouble. This is just the thing you read about in the paper the next day, and I wasn’t about to push my luck any further.

I backed off, crawled back up the embankment onto the trail, and repacked my gear for the hike down. As I walked back down the trail, I could hear a pair of wood thrush singing sweet songs to each other. Night closed in about half way down, and I pulled off my pack to retrieve my headlamp for the rest of the way. At least I remembered that important item. Well, I will be back again with more images from this magical spot soon, but you can bet I will have water, food, and a quick safety text before leaving. Until next time:)….This is the image from my second trip, with more time and proper planning.