I’ve always been one that when having picked up on that first nibble of curiosity tend to have the inkling to run with it.  And I will admit that once something is planted in my head — whether a concrete plan or just a random idea, I look for ways to make it happen.  Because that is what I am.  An analyst.  I look at the concept, break it down and then plan it.  So it’s really not surprising that after having attended an event at the Loussac Library last night, a seed on a certain subject has been planted with me.

To many that see the infamous photos of bears snapping up salmon in their powerful jaws while camped out amongst the falls of the local fishing stream, people often wonder where exactly that is.  If you weren’t aware, that is the infamous McNeil River up near Katmai.  So when the Friends of McNeil River invited a local wildlife bear biologist to host a talk on the Bears of McNeil River, of course I decided to go.

It is a given that bears and photography are a popular subject up here.  Especially with me.  So it really came as no surprise when I pulled into the Loussac library and found it full to overflowing.  Originally supposed to be held in the public conference room, the amount of attendees became so large that we ended up moving over to the much larger space of the Sydney Lawrence Auditorium.  Over the next hour we learned fact and fiction about bears and was walked through a pictorial slide show.  Snapshot after snapshot of the legendary McNeil River bears filled the screen.  Of course by the end of it I was far from satiated and wanted more.  Including wondering how I too could join in and experience it.

Even though I’m going to Katmai twice this summer for bear photography, I knew by the end of the night I had to throw my name into the hat next year for the 2008 McNeil River Bear Lottery.  Perhaps I will be lucky like I was last year for the Denali Road Lottery.  Beginners luck I hope.  It became obvious to me that staying at McNeil and experiencing it would in fact become a once in a lifetime type of trip.

All in all it was a great talk and a most enjoyable evening.  Despite the toddler in the audience that felt the need to continually run around and scream at people during the entire presentation.  Sometimes I feel like my sense of hearing is akin to that of a dog sense.  I couldn’t hear even a low decibel scream without cringing.  That and the fact that I felt the stirrings of a migraine begin.  It really makes me wonder why people feel the need to bring children that obviously aren’t taught to behave to a public event like this.  But that is much like my rant on common courtesy or cell phones ringing in movie theatres.  Better left to discuss at another time and place.

After the slideshow there was a Q&A session.  And is always the case when the subject of Alaska bears comes up, the subject of Timothy Treadwell is approached. I.e. what did they think of him, etc.  The biologists pretty much mirrored my own thoughts and had the opinion that Treadwell was caught up in his own hype and that ended with his destruction.  The biologist always went on to say that if he had take the necessary precautions (i.e. electric bear fence and bear spray) around his camp he woud likely still be alive today.  But he also had an interesting theory in that Timothy probably got out of his tent to confront the bear in an attempt to run him off.  Which is normally a good idea for sub-adults, but not necessarily for those higher in the pecking order.  He thinks the bear that attacked and killed him was likely higher in the pecking order.  Perhaps one of the old boars.

What was quite humourous in my mind was the fact that I did feel a particular connection with this biologist given he made a comment I personally can appreciate.  And that is the fact that he says there are some days he feels closer to animals than he does to people.  That he doesn’t have the tolerance for the general stupidity of some people.  And to those that know me, know this is a common sentiment of mine and one I say quite often.  Perhaps I should have been a biologist? 

One of the photos shown was of an old boar named Dallas.  A huge mammoth of a bear that is considered “King of the Falls”.  I remember that name quite clearly from having read “The Grizzly Maze: Timothy Treadwell’s Fatal Obsession with Alaska Bears” by Nick Jans (which I highly recommend).  Apparently Dallas was one of the old boars that Timothy Treadwell often mentioned as making him nervous.  I could see why.  The bear is literally missing half of his face.  Half of his nose had bee nripped off from a previous altercation with another bear thus giving him a lopsided look.  That plus massive scarring on his face and missing eye certainly don’t help.  I could see why no one (human or animal) would ever want to tangle with him.  Dallas has quite simply a presence and that comes across in photos of him.

In the end, I’m of course sitting here plotting how to make a trip to McNeil happen sometime in this lifetime.  I simply attribute it as the desire to see a place I have not been.  But instinct tells me it would in fact be a life changing experience for me.

I seem to be falling back into patterns of spending quite a bit of time by myself again.  In this case it was definitely needed.  Or at least it was after having returned to work early last week to find myself encountering a generally bad week.  And with a weekend free from schedules, I decided to just pack up the car and see where I ended up.  One of my favorite types of things.  I originally was supposed to go with a friend that was schedule to have the weekend off, but of course he ended up being called into work.  So needless to say I didn’t end up getting out of town on Friday night like I had originally planned, so instead planned a day trip on Saturday.

With the sun just beginning to rise over the Chugach Mountains, after loading up my camera bag I found myself heading south along the Seward Highway with narily an indication of where I would end up.  It was an absolutely beautiful day and low and behold, it really shouldn’t surprise anyone that I ended up back in Homerfor a day trip.  The wind that had plagued the area the weekend before hd died down and as I spent time out walking along the Homer Spit, it was sunny and beautiful with temperatures in the mid-30s. 

Of course the wildlife was prevalent, but not to the extent it had been the previous weekend.  The ice that has plagued Kachemak Bay due to the harsh winter was beginning its first steps into spring by breaking up.  There were chunks of ice floating in the bay and a pod of Orcas surfaced further out.  If anything, it made me look forward to summer and spring.  I have a very bad case of spring fever right now and ask me about winter, and I would no doubt say it seems endless.

After spending a few hours in Homer, I decided to go on a search for some moose for possible photo ops.  Namely I started down one of the roads off the Sterling Highway that lead to one of several Russian Villages in the area.  Having encountered several moose there the previous weekend, I wasn’t surprised to find more milling along the road about 1/4 of a mile in.  I stopped for awhile and rolled down the window of my car while taking a few photos.

Afterwards, I headed down the road a bit to Kenai to take some photos of the Russian Orthodox Churches there.  And while my spiritual beliefs are not those of the Russian Orthodox, there has always been something about their churches that I have enjoyed and found calming.  Given I’m working on making a collection of photos from the ones in and around Southcentral Alaska, I chose to go to Kenai to add a few more photos to it.

It was early evening by the time I began my drive back to Anchorage.  I was in a race against time by that point because I wanted to be out of Turnagain Pass before the sunset and hit Cook Inlet just as the sun went down.  As time progressed and the closer we came to the sun setting, the Chugach Mountains were awash with the glow of alpenglow.  It certainly made for a beautiful site.

After starting the day some 12 hours before, I found myself home and relaxed the remainder of the weekend.  It was definitely the type of weekend I so desperately needed.

Now, will someone please send spring?

Turnagain Pass at Alpenglow
Southcentral Alaska

When planning hiking or camping trips, I am often asked what sort of supplies I carry with me.  Especially living in Alaska you have to not only be prepared for constant change of weather that this state is notorious for, but also a potential encounter with wildlife.  And throughout my years there have been many encounters for me — grizzly bear, black bear, moose, wolves and even wolverine.  It might surprise some to hear that of these animals the one that gave me the biggest problem was in fact the smallest.  That was the wolverine.

They are quite territorial and when you hear the snarl of a wolverine, it quite literally can make the hair on the back of your neck rise.  Bears simply want to avoid people at all costs if they can.  Moose are only usually a problem if you are in their space or some between them and their young.  Wolves?  They are quite shy and its actually rare to see them.  But wolverines?  They seem to have one commonality in life and that is to protect what is theirs and what they consider their territory.  Fellow outdoorsman I’ve told this too often look at me in surprise.

“But they are so little.”

Little or not, I can guarantee you if you run into a wolverine there is likely to be a problem.

So what to carry with you? Well obviously in prepping for my outdoor trips I am prepared with multiple layers of clothes and a good nylon shell for rain protection.  Always carry a good amount of water with you as well as food.  Leave a clean camp and if at all possible, don’t eat in your camp.  Otherwise you are likely to attract the attention of some curious onlookers (i.e. bears).

But when it comes to personal protection?  Do I carry a gun?  It actually might surprise people to hear that I don’t.  Despite the fact that I am quite familiar with firearms and know how to use them well.  Nor do I carry bear spray.  My choice of protection is actually quite different.  When I do hike in heavier bear country I do sometimes attach a bell to my trekking poles, especially if I am hiking alone.  But on my belt at all times are 2 simple things:

[1] A plastic whistle
[2] A flare gun

Why a whistle?  If you are injured and there are people in the area, a call of three short blasts from a whistle often indicates help is needed.  And the reality is a flare gun is used for a dual purpose when needed.  You can not only use it for its obvious intention, but if you are bluff charged by a bear, one remedy is to point the flare gun and shoot it at the feet of the charging bear or at the ground between you.  While it obviously may not save you if there is an attack, it does have the potential to give an animal pause and cause confusion - thus breaking the charge.  And the reality is that most charges are just that - bluffs.  You have a bear backed into a corner and they feel a charge is their only way out.And while I may not be the expert when it comes to animal behavior or encounters, I do know that you can into a situation as prepared as you can possibly be.  And that is by knowing the animals of the area and their habits.

That simply might be the biggest safety indicator of all.

I’ve always had a rather protective family.  Or rather they knew the nomadic side of me made its appearance quite often and as a result they would never know what my next antic would be.  I’d suddenly hop in the car off on my next wild road trip.  Or plan my next hiking trip off into the wild blue yonder alone.  I’ve been all over the country where I have flown or traveled by myself simply because I didn’t have anyone to go with.  And I learned long ago that if I waited around, I would never experience anything. 

So over the years I constantly kept the family update on my where abouts, happenings, etc.  However recently something must have changed.  Or perhaps finally they are used to this side of me. When I made a comment yesterday about going out in search this summer for Gimpy and Limpy for photography purposes, all I received was an amused shake of the head.  And then this morning I found out about a moose photo contest that the Anchorage Daily News is holding.  I tilted my head and thought for a moment.

“Well I do have a few moose photos I could enter.” I said. “Or you could go out and search for them.” came the reply.This definitely wasn’t what I was used to hearing.  So when I asked for clarification by repeating, “Are you saying I should go and look for moose?”, the reply came quite quickly.

“Why not?  You look for bears.”

Consider me amused.

Having lived in Alaska for over 30 years, I have always had an interest in bears.  And even though I have been and remain quite active when it comes to hiking and constantly being in the outdoors, the reality was I didn’t encounter my first bear sighting up here until just a few years ago.  What started as a typical walk through the meandering trails of the Alaska Botanical Garden here in Anchorage brought me face to face with a grizzly bear during the summer salmon spawning season.  Of course nothing happened.  But it did seem to set off a series of events in which my encounters with bears (both black and brown) became much more frequent.  Including a run in with a black bear while simply out walking my dog on the bike path in Girdwood.

The bear encounters have continued for me and even have begun to occur more frequently.  So much so that it has become a standing joke that if you go hiking with me, you will encounter a bear.  Last summer was especially active for me.  I happen to encounter two grizzly bear adolescents while out hiking in the Portage Valley.  They were the age where they had just been separated from their mother.  Of course ever curious, I began to hike in the area more during the summer.  And yet those bears were always there and it led to some amazing photo opportunities. But I must stress that I always gave them their distance and never once did I feel threatened. I also know that once you lose complete fear is when the trouble will start.  Always, ALWAYS have complete respect for these wild animals.  Then came the Denali experiences last fall, which were even more meaningful for me.

Now one would think that the subject of bears would frighten most individuals.  Enough to where they would actively avoid putting themselves in situations in which they would no longer occur.  To me however, these encounters have made me that much more curious.  I began to read about them and their habits.  I began to look for ways to experience them more in the wild - especially from an educational standpoint.  Including booking an upcoming trip for myself to Katmai on my birthday in June.  Also a potential field workshop in Denali National Park during mid-August. And while I’m no Timothy Treadwell by any means, I must admit I continue to be highly curious and fascinated by these amazing animals. In fact they have quickly become a favorite to me.

So when I happened to have stumbled upon a travel blog this morning about a family’s journey to Alaska and their encounter with Gimpy and Limpy* at the confuence of the Russian and Kenai Rivers last summer, I knew that no photo portfolio would ever be complete without them gracing it.  Again the more I read, the more curious I became.

A curious Angie is never necessarily a good thing.  So does anyone feel like going hiking to the Russian River Falls this summer?  Yes, I thought not.

___

*For those that aren’t familiar with the story, the Russian River is a prime spot here in Southcentral Alaska.  One day a fisherman spooked a grizzly sow and three cubs and ended up unnecessarily shooting and killing the mother and one of the cubs while injuring one of the others.  Gimpy and Limpy are the surviving cubs.  They have continued to come back to the Russian River each summer.

When one steps foot onto the soils of Alaska, they often bring with them many different stories and images.  Whether it is the tales of the 1964 earthquake that hit South-central Alaska, the evoquivical after effects of the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill, or the allures of the age old tales of combat fishing that exists on their local fishing message board.  Where the hundreds of fisherman line the shores of their nearest lake or stream and begin casting away in hopes of feeling a bite on their line as they reel in their next record king or rainbow.  Now mind you that most don’t know about a combat of a different sort that eixsts here.  Especially on the shores of Kachemak Bay.  What is it you may be asking?  Why it’s combat photography of course - eagle photography that is.  And it definitely was a first for me.

This last weekend I found myself indulging in a little combat photography of my own.  What began on a very early Saturday morning as I packed my bags and headed down the shores of Kachemak Bay later found me tangled amongst hordes of photographers in an effort to find my own space to secure that next great shot.  The eagles were out in droves.  Some simply sitting on that piece of driftwood that habitually line the shores of Homer while others were flying and squawking in their effort to secure their next meal.  One thing was for certain.  With hundreds of eagles situated on a small five mile long piece of land known as the Homer Spit, we had reached an eagle photography mecca.  And the people were sure to follow.

The drive down to Homer while usually rather mindless granted some beautiful winter views that morning.  And reminded me very quickly of how much snow had fallen over the past several months.  Albeit it was a bit white knuckled as we passed through Turnagain Pass south of Anchorage to find ourselves swept up in a snow storm.  The sites and scenery around us were literally gripped in white.  From the snow that had already fallen and was lining the landscape to the blowing snow on the road.  Or even the snow which was falling.  It made for some difficult driving and the game pretty much ended up being following the tail lights of the car or truck in front of you.

Soon enough though we exited the pass and as we entered the flats to Soldotna, the sun came out in force.  No sooner had we made it to Homer and decided to drive down to the Homer Spit when I saw cars lined en mass in one of the parking lots of the public camp grounds there.  I began to wonder if there was perhaps some event going on that I didn’t know about.  And as I drove closer we saw the multitude of people huddled in their cars with lenses pointed out the window.  While others sat in the beds of their trucks. When you see a sea of camera lenses, you know you have arrived.  And one thing is for certain.  As I looked around and was gripped with the slogans of “Nikon”, “Fuji” and “Canon” dancing before my eyes, I too began to suffer a bit from lens envy.  I must be having a midlife crisis I thought.  After all, I thought it was “boys and their toys”?  But for awhile it was all I could do was to look around at the thousands of dollars worth of camera gear that existed and began to wish away for the exact same kind of toys.  Err, tools that is. And later as I turned my head and saw literally hundreds of eagles in front of us, I quickly lost that lust.  Instead that lust turned to preparation of how many shots I could and would catch.

I too began to lean out the window in an effort to begin taking shots and found out rather quickly it wasn’t good enough.  I hopped out of my car despite the “eagle feeding area — please stay in vehicle” signs that littered the beach (I wasn’t the only one).  I guess I have never been one that has been good at following rules.  Instead I moved slowly and soon found myself within a stepping stone’s distance of the animal of the moment.  The regal American Bald Eagle.  They of course came in all different shapes and sizes.  From the adolescent young chicks to the old refined baldy that carried only one eye.  If you were looking for eagles, this was obviously the place to be.And as the afternoon went on and we began to struggle with the bad lighting, we quickly decided to go and check into the hotel and then head up to a local favorite eatery — Fat Olives for some food and fare.  We had a full day ahead of us the next morning and then half of the following day before heading back to Anchorage.  After we left Fat Olives we once again decided to head down to the Homer Spit to watch the sunset.  My memories came two fold then.

I could remember times of summer from my last journey to Homer.  The weekend of camping on the spit in driving rain with a multitude of friends from an old job.  How we spent half the night building a bonfire of packing crates and indulging in some spirits.  Then of course my drink of choice was Zima.  That seems like so long ago..  And as the sun began to crest and then set well below the surrounding mountains, I felt at ease and could imagine living there.  It was a perfect end to the day.

The following morning we again decided to head back down to the Homer Spit.  I had heard that the “Eagle Lady” Jean Keene began feeding them at 9:00 a.m. every morning.  Jean Keene lives in a public camping area on the Homer Spit.  She moved to Homer some 25 years ago and began to live the Alaska dream.  She worked in canneries and what began as feeding 2 eagles every day back then quickly developed into a daily affair.  Over they years, the numbers grew causing some commotion amongst the locals.  Words of “nuisance” began to ring out.  Because of her history she quickly became known as the Eagle Lady.

Now in her 80s she is in the last 3 years of her exemption granted to her by the Homer Council last year to feed the eagles after they banned the act within Homer city limits.  I have heard a multitude of stories throughout the year.  One thing was for certain, I had been warned that she could be a “crotchety old woman” and was not immune against yelling at people to get back in their vehicles if they overstepped their bounds*.
That morning we pulled in to find the beach already lined with cars.  Much more than the night before.  And the morning light wasn’t cooperating all that much either.  We did end up taking a few pictures but quickly decided to come back later in the afternoon to not only avoid the crowds, but to get better light.  We ended up driving out nearly to the end of East End Road and engage in the beauty of the scenery before us.  Not to mention it was nice to see a few moose bedded down along the way.

By the time afternoon rolled around, we found ourselves back at the spit.  This time however, I was determined to get out of the car and do a bit of walking.  The next hour or so afforded me to be within arms reach of many of these magnificent birds and brought with them a perfect photography day.  Two days later I am still going through the 400 plus photos I ended up with from this trip.  And mind you these are the photos that turned out.
 
I also learned that eagles are like humans and each has its own personality.  Sometimes quirky, sometimes perky, but often times aggressive.  There were a few that quickly became my favorites.  Like the mature male in his prime that had claimed his spot on one of the pieces of driftwood.  Rather than sit and sun bathe like many of his peers, he quickly decided that he needed exercise.  He would walk up one side of that log, turn around and then walk right back down.  Only to turn around again and start over when he reached the end. 

Or the young adolescent that liked to preen from atop the local telephone pole.  I found my favorites and my camera is literally filled with photos of their antics.  I would have to say the most hilarious however was the older female that would begin to stalk a crow by giving a hop towards it.  The crow had paused to sit on top of a utility box and was attempting to bathe itself when it would look down and the female eagle would again hop towards it.  The crow would jump up and wave its wings in an effort to scare the eagle away.  Eventually the crow would settle down and the antics would begin again.  Finally the eagle decided enough was enough because with a very loud squawk, she frightened the crow away and instead found herself landing on the same spot the crow had vacated.  Who knew that utility boxes were hot commodities as an eagle condo?

Later in the day we ended up for a walk at Meyers Beach.  While my travel companion decided to go further out towards the water front, I stayed behind near the marshes that lined the beach and sat taking photos of crows and the patterns the marshes made with the snow and sand.  After being in the driving wind for a bit, both of us were cold and ended up stopping back at the hotel to warm up before we drove off again to see the sunset.

Rather than driving back down out to the spit this time, I suggested we drive out to Ninilchik where we could take photos of the Russian Orthodox Church that sits high atop the hill. Of course being the nomadic sort that I am, we did take a few side trips.  Mostly to the Russian Village right outside of Anchor Point.  While there, we were lucky to come across a multitude of moose.  Including one cow moose that had two young calves peeking around her haunches, as if to ask, “Is it safe to come out?”  We ended up making perfect timing in the end despite my occasionally hurried driving antics.  As we pulled into the parking lot of the Russian Orthodox Church the sun was just beginning its crest. 

I personally loved the sunset that night.  With Augustine bilowing steam off further in the distance, the sun brought a full spectrum of colors that danced on the landscape before us.  From purples and pinks to brilliant blues and yellows.  And thus brought to a close our full day in Homer.

With checkout looming the next morning and a long ride home, I found myself with wandering thoughts throughout the remainder of the day.  Of how simply to get back to Homer.  If even for a short time.  And despite the fact that I will be back in Homer during the month of June (which is where I begin my journey/adventure to the shores of Katmai to view the bears), I have decided to go back for another weekend in May when the Shorebird Festival hits.

It was a trip needed.  Indeed.  And with the way this week has been since my return, it was indeed time well spent.

_______

* I was one that didn’t have a lot of strong thoughts on the eagle feeding situation until the end of this trip.  My own views on that would take an entirely different entry.  There were some negative repercussions from this weekend.  Namely a sour attitude towards out of state photographers that felt the need to attempt to kick us out of the area and also towards some of the habits of Jean Keene herself.

With the week winding down (this is in fact my Friday), I can already feel my mind and attentions turning to the coming weekend.  It is what always happens to me when I have a multi-day trip planned.  The word begins to culminate in my mind and with it comes the fervor of excitement.  “Road trip” whispers itself to me again and again and the anticipation builds.  Why you may be asking?  Perhaps it is the nomadic blood that has always lived within me.  Perhaps it is just the freedom that driving the open road brings me.  The relaxed state away from life’s responsibilities.  But with a 4-day trip on the horizon, I admit.  I’m excited.  I’m ready.  Especialy given the last real trip I did take was last October when I journeyed down to Sacramento. 

This particular trip is one I have had in the planning stages for awhile now.  Homer, situated on the southern most tip of Southcentral Alaska’s road system is a quirkly little town that has grown into a replica of “small town America”.  When you think of neighbors openly talking and knowing each other, you can think of Homer.  Situated on the edges of Kachemak Bay, Homer offers some of the most breathtaking views in all of Alaska.  Summer brings with it a horde of tourists and fisherman that work the canneries, many of the often taking up residence via camping on the Spit.  Come winter though, Homer is literally teaming with hundreds of eagles on a daily basis making it a mecca for wildlife photography.  And therein lies the reason I’m going.  Not to mention I just happen to love the town it has become and in fact could see myself living there some day.  Plus I have some great company journeying with me this time around, so more the better!

Life definitely seems to be taking a different turn for me as of late.  With the constant to and fro and hustle and bustle of upcoming photography journeys, I admit I feel like I’m finally in my element.  I’m going to be attempting to take this dream a step further by starting my own photography business.  Not as a sole means of support mind you, but if I can make some extra income to fund this love and expense of travel, I’m there.  Of course with it comes the lingering self doubt and wonder of if my photos are actually strong enough.  But I realize you never progress in life without taking a chance.  So I’m jumping in head first with no parachute planned.  I simply wonder where I’ll land.

Now if I could only think of and finalize my business name.

I can remember growing up there were those days that I learned to aptly call, “A Perfect Day”.  I never knew where exactly this label came from other than the fact that my nose was constantly in a book during my youth so I can only imagine I picked it up reading some book or through someone’s writings.  It later became such a standing joke between some friends that when they would casually drop the question of how my weekend was, it later became the standard question of “Angie did you have a perfect weekend?”  If something had gone right for once, I would grin and say “of course!” and they would of course answer, “Perfect!”.

Now for those of us into photography, there are very few “perfect days” that grace our calendar.  Whether we are up early slugging through the backwoods amongst the morning mist carrying our tripods or sitting out amongst the fields on a hot summer day.  Our time and efforts always seem to focus on one thing.  Finding that perfect shot.  In fact it is not uncommon for me to go through 40 to 50 shots on average just to find one “decent” one.  And if at the end of the day I can get a handful of decent ones, I would say it ends up being a near perfect day.  In all my years of photography there have been very few “perfect days” where I have been pleasantly surprised by the outcomes of the images I have captured. 

One in particular that comes to mind is last fall during a day spent in Denali National Park with Mount McKinley peeking through in all her glory as if to say, “look at me! look at me!”.  As if that wasn’t enough, it was a day I saw numerous animals wandering through the park including bear, moose, caribou, wolves, coyote, etc. So when Saturday morning rolled around and I saw I had a busy schedule ahead of me for the day to including photographing not only the Iditarod ceremonial start here in Anchorage but also the Fur Rondy closing fireworks, I knew there was a chance I would have a few photos turn out.  I was hoping for a handful, maybe more if I was truly lucky.  Maybe 8-10 if I was having a “perfect day” for photography.

The northern winds that had encompassed Anchorage throughout the week making it miserable conditions for being outside somehow neglected to make their appearance that morning, despite the weather forecast.  Not that I’m complaining mind you.  It only added to the spirit of what this day would become for me.  I was layered in my coldest climate gear and set off to drive down to met some friends in downtown Anchorage to photograph the ceremonial start.  With dogs howling and people milling around everywere downtown, needless to say I did end up missing the friends I was supposed to meet.

Now I don’t know about you folks but crowds have never been a part of my repertoire.  I am much more comfortable amongst small groups of people or even by myself.  It’s the way I have always been.  And with numbers approaching the thousands in Anchorage that morning, I quickly knew that location wasn’t going to work for me.  So I decided to leave downtown and head for the Tudor crossing on the Alaska Native Medical Center campus.

The timing was just right.  No sooner had I made it over to the campus and was scouting for the perfect spot and set up my gear when the first honorary musher came through.  Now the Iditarod has always been an important event to me and one I have followed through the years with interest.  I can even remember growing up when there was a time in elementary school where we as a class sewed dog booties for one of the local mushers.  So to see that hororary musher come flying through honoring racing legend Susan Butcher, it was quite significant.  Susan has always been one that I have rooted for and enjoyed and her death is a tragic loss to this sport and Alaska as well.  And while I have my own personal favorites, there were 3 mushers in particular I had hoped to get photos of.  Those being Martin Buser, Jeff King, and DeeDee Jonrowe.

Eventually as the hours past and the bid numers kept creeping up and passing by, more and more people started to arrive and crowd the trail.  It made for an even more narrow trail than usual.  I was having fun getting what I hoped were clear shots of the mushers and dogs.  Martin had just passed by moments before when on the horizon I saw three mushers coming along at a fairly good trot.  I saw one team coming up rather quickly behind them.  Imagine my surprise to ind out that it was DeeDee Jonrowe  As the moments passed and as these teams entered the narrowest portion of the trail, DeeDee Jonwrowe for whom whatever reason at the moment decided she needed to pass all three mushers.

[1] On a very tight turn.
[2] On a trail that was literally crowded with children.

The dogs were headed right for me and even though I was far enough off the side of the trail, I still found myself having to jump back even further in an effort to allow them to pass.  The three dog teams she did pass however ended up in a tangled mess.  It was quite obvious the mushers of those teams were unhappy with the unsportsmanlike conduct that had just occurred.  I felt what respect I had held for Ms. Jonwrowe dwindle a notch or two.  But alas the day moved on and there was perhaps the only negative to it.  Shortly after Jeff King passed by awhile later while waving to the crowd and giving children “high fives”, I decided it was time to wrap up my morning and head over to Eagle River to see if the eagles were making an appearance at the VFW.

After driving out and parking in their lot and pulled out my tripod to shet up shop in an attempt to get a clear shot on the lone eagle that was sitting in a tree above me, imagine my surprise to find numerous car doors slamming.  Apparently my timing was right on once more as I found myself completely surrounded by even more photographers in which a few of them took it upon themselves to feed the eagles.  Tsk tsk fellas - that is illegal!  But I am by no means a wildlife cop, so I didn’t say a thing.  Scraps of chicken breast were laid on the ground and the eagles would swoop down to grab it before taking it off again.

And despite the fact I don’t condone feeding wild animals simply in an effort to get a better shot, I did find myself amused to watch the eagles taking off and then quickly followed in mass by swarms of ravens who would chase them in an effort to grab their food.  In a way it became an aerial ballet.  And the lessons of wildlife - bigger doesn’t always mean better.  Several times the ravens were able to accomplish their feat.  With both the eagles and ravens flying around, I was able to get several shots I was happy with.  And the number of acceptable photos (by my standards) began to creep up for the day.

Perhaps I would end up having a perfect day.  I know I was certainly happy with it thus far.

The next challenge for me that night was my first attempt at taking photos of fireworks.  I’ve always found myself more oriented towards taking photos of animals and landscape photography.  So I decided early on to attempt something outside of my comfort level and head downtown to the closing fireworks for Fur Rondy.  I had just hte location in mind as well and image in my mind of what I hoped to capture.  Quite simply I would park on top of the JC Penney garage and my frame would be the top of the Egan Center with the Anchorage Hilton in the background and fireworks coming up over the horizon of the Egan Center and just to the left of the Hilton.  The challenge was could I actually replicate that image in my mind.  And given I was sing a wireless remote to capture these images, I really didn’t know what the outcome would be until I was home for the evening.  And imagine my surprise to find a few “decent” images for what was my first try.

As the day waned into what did eventually become a “perfect day” for me photography wise and with an upcoming trip to Homer planned this weekend for even more eagle photography, I can only hope to claim more “perfect days” in the hours ahead 

American Bald Eagle
Eagle River, Alaska