The Right (And Wrong) Stuff

Mossy branches and blackberry bushes                  Oregon             2018

So I've already blown my New Years resolution to post a blog every week; lets just add that to my list to lose weight and cut back on the tequila. Fine ideas, noble even, but only marginally in the category of possibilities. But here I am nonetheless.

What brings me here are my reflections on a day trip my wife and I took this past weekend out to the Columbia Gorge -- specifically the Dalles and the Dalles Dam -- to witness a feeding migration of the great American bald eagle. We were invited to join a group sponsored by the Friends of the Columbia Gorge, of which she is a long time member. When it came to the introductions, I mentioned that I was merely an acquaintance of said gorge, but the humor was lost on this august group so early in the morning as it was. In any event the eagles made a impressive showing. 

The problem is, I'm not really a wildlife photography guy, so I don't have any wildlife-appropriate lenses. If you know me, you know I'm philosophically opposed to the mindless accumulation of photography gear. Simpler is better, says I, although deep down I'm just as much a gearhead as the rest of them. But my longest lens, a 55-200mm zoom for my Fuji, was clearly designed for non-eagle shooting (although I have some great photos of squirrels raiding our bird feeder). My wife, a watercolor artist, was appropriately outfitted with powerful binoculars and an artist's imagination. I ended up taking photos of my beautiful surroundings, and made no complaints for the opportunity. It was a gorgeous morning.

Old fishing platform and the Dalles bridge on the Columbia River          2018

It's pretty simple and obvious, really: if you aspire to be a wildlife guy (or girl) you have to get with the program and put out the bucks for some seriously long glass. You can only get so close to a bald eagle. Or a grizzly bear, for that matter. My little 200mm lens was the proverbial knife at a gunfight. I have friends who publish world-class wildlife photography with lenses that are upwards of 10-times that humble length. And all of them enjoy getting up before sunrise with much better attitudes that mine.

As for me, I'll enjoy the ambiance. The Columbia Gorge is a treasure; it's Oregon's gift to a barely civilized world (well, that, and a Willamette Valley pinot). And oh, that river. Rain or shine, blustery winter or blue summer, it never fails to impress beyond words. I'm hardly a sentimental guy, but in all my many years of gazing upon it (including my pre-verbal childhood in Washington, the son of an adventurous father) it always takes my breath away. A humble lens can capture its many moods, and probably capture yours too; eagles are only optional. That's why this gorge, and its river, has so many friends.

Or in my case, acquaintances.