Thawed woodpile {the spring edition}
A year ago, this happened.
I wanted to recreate that shot on this grey spring day. Easy enough, except that I left my tripod in the house and Ben, my back up tripod, is wearing a crappy pair of boots that had a hole in them. That won't work. The ground is completely saturated with water, over a foot deep in places, the river has flown over the banks and has flooded our only way to the woodpile!
So, what do we do? Instead of walking back up to the house (a mere 5 minute walk), I piggyback Ben across approximately 100 metres of sopping wet river-trail. Every time he hops on my back, I squeal, "Shit! We're going down!" I can feel him laughing almost uncontrollably as he rides along, he's thoroughly enjoying this.
We make it, my legs shaking and I climb back up onto the wood pile (less confidently than last winter) and he gets the shot. I rush him though, someone's spotted a beaver swimming in the flooded forest that I wanted to see.
Happy bench, Monday!
Thawed woodpile {the spring edition}
A year ago, this happened.
I wanted to recreate that shot on this grey spring day. Easy enough, except that I left my tripod in the house and Ben, my back up tripod, is wearing a crappy pair of boots that had a hole in them. That won't work. The ground is completely saturated with water, over a foot deep in places, the river has flown over the banks and has flooded our only way to the woodpile!
So, what do we do? Instead of walking back up to the house (a mere 5 minute walk), I piggyback Ben across approximately 100 metres of sopping wet river-trail. Every time he hops on my back, I squeal, "Shit! We're going down!" I can feel him laughing almost uncontrollably as he rides along, he's thoroughly enjoying this.
We make it, my legs shaking and I climb back up onto the wood pile (less confidently than last winter) and he gets the shot. I rush him though, someone's spotted a beaver swimming in the flooded forest that I wanted to see.
Happy bench, Monday!