Cloudland
This is a digital retake from many moons ago at this very spot with my Mamiya RZ 67 Pro film camera set low on a tripod. I was focused on my work then, waiting out conditions, when a fella visiting Roan Mountain walked right up and stopped in front of the camera, checking out the gear. As was the day I shot this image, it was wet and blustery with clouds racing through the red spruce and Fraser fir along the mountaintop. “You waitin’ for the sun?” he asked. Huddled into my rain jacket against the prevalent cold wind with my hands in my pockets, I must have looked like I was waiting for a bus in Chicago... I did have the shutter release cord in my hand, not that anyone would notice. Looking up around the sky, I responded, “That would appear to be a rather long wait today. So, no, I’m not waiting on the sun." “It’s so foggy!” he said. “This isn’t fog.” “What would you call it?” “This place is known as Cloudland. Roan is over 6,000 feet in elevation, so I would call it clouds.” “Well, what are you waitin’ for?” The guy’s not getting it. “For the wind to stop moving and for you to keep moving… you’re standing in front of the camera.” “Oh! Oh, sorry!” That big 6x7 cm Mamiya did not resemble the typical 35 mm camera of the day, and he may not have understood that he was between the lens and my subject. Yet, he also had no idea that anything apart from sunny conditions would make for a fine composition. I beg to differ.
Sunny days have their place in photography. A likely currently unknown rule in photography, the sunny 16 rule, is a method of estimating correct daylight exposures without a light meter. There were other rules concerning more complex conditions, yet the happy little Sunny 16 Rule stood apart in its simplicity. Today’s rule of photography stands out even more: point and shoot. The day before this shot was the day of the Roan Mountain Rhododendron Festival and the area was crowded. It was sunny and folks were everywhere with their camera phones, and all was a good time in the outdoors with friends and family. The road up to Roan was so congested that we shot past Carver’s Gap and looked for views elsewhere.
We woke to thunder the next morning. What started as moderate rain settled to a drizzle for much of the day. As such, we decided on a leisurely approach to the day, stopping at the delightful Cranberry Café in Newland for breakfast. They roast their own coffee there for a bold brew that set the standard for their thoughtful breakfast offerings… just right. Backing out from there, I set the cruise for Roan. Hardly anyone was there, yet the weather conditions offered a sense of depth, beauty, and mystery to the lens in ways a sunny day never could. Being of Scottish ancestry, Joyce often notes a maxim with concern to weather in the Highlands, which is quite like we were experiencing here: “There is no such thing as poor weather, just poorly dressed people.” We spent a bit more this year for Arc’teryx jackets. They shed wind and rain like nothing else I have ever owned and will help to keep me out in the wilds to catch more of the world’s beauty. Let’s go… just don’t stand in front of the camera.
Cloudland
This is a digital retake from many moons ago at this very spot with my Mamiya RZ 67 Pro film camera set low on a tripod. I was focused on my work then, waiting out conditions, when a fella visiting Roan Mountain walked right up and stopped in front of the camera, checking out the gear. As was the day I shot this image, it was wet and blustery with clouds racing through the red spruce and Fraser fir along the mountaintop. “You waitin’ for the sun?” he asked. Huddled into my rain jacket against the prevalent cold wind with my hands in my pockets, I must have looked like I was waiting for a bus in Chicago... I did have the shutter release cord in my hand, not that anyone would notice. Looking up around the sky, I responded, “That would appear to be a rather long wait today. So, no, I’m not waiting on the sun." “It’s so foggy!” he said. “This isn’t fog.” “What would you call it?” “This place is known as Cloudland. Roan is over 6,000 feet in elevation, so I would call it clouds.” “Well, what are you waitin’ for?” The guy’s not getting it. “For the wind to stop moving and for you to keep moving… you’re standing in front of the camera.” “Oh! Oh, sorry!” That big 6x7 cm Mamiya did not resemble the typical 35 mm camera of the day, and he may not have understood that he was between the lens and my subject. Yet, he also had no idea that anything apart from sunny conditions would make for a fine composition. I beg to differ.
Sunny days have their place in photography. A likely currently unknown rule in photography, the sunny 16 rule, is a method of estimating correct daylight exposures without a light meter. There were other rules concerning more complex conditions, yet the happy little Sunny 16 Rule stood apart in its simplicity. Today’s rule of photography stands out even more: point and shoot. The day before this shot was the day of the Roan Mountain Rhododendron Festival and the area was crowded. It was sunny and folks were everywhere with their camera phones, and all was a good time in the outdoors with friends and family. The road up to Roan was so congested that we shot past Carver’s Gap and looked for views elsewhere.
We woke to thunder the next morning. What started as moderate rain settled to a drizzle for much of the day. As such, we decided on a leisurely approach to the day, stopping at the delightful Cranberry Café in Newland for breakfast. They roast their own coffee there for a bold brew that set the standard for their thoughtful breakfast offerings… just right. Backing out from there, I set the cruise for Roan. Hardly anyone was there, yet the weather conditions offered a sense of depth, beauty, and mystery to the lens in ways a sunny day never could. Being of Scottish ancestry, Joyce often notes a maxim with concern to weather in the Highlands, which is quite like we were experiencing here: “There is no such thing as poor weather, just poorly dressed people.” We spent a bit more this year for Arc’teryx jackets. They shed wind and rain like nothing else I have ever owned and will help to keep me out in the wilds to catch more of the world’s beauty. Let’s go… just don’t stand in front of the camera.