I’m still taking a break, and this is part of it. Had to share this beautiful view from the edge of the lake on this frosty Sunday morning near Bancroft, Ontario. No edits, this is exactly what it looked like, or at least, how my phone saw it 🙂
“Outside, there was that predawn kind of clarity, where the momentum of living has not quite captured the day. The air was not filled with conversation or thought bubbles or laughter or sidelong glances. Everyone was sleeping, all of their ideas and hopes and hidden agendas entangled in the dream world, leaving this world clear and crisp and cold as a bottle of milk in the fridge. ”
― Reif Larsen
As this wonderful mild September winds down, I’m reminded of the good time spent north of my home at our camper on Bancroft’s Marble Lake. Though I’m not a ‘morning’ person, there have been several occasions when I have ventured down to the dock to watch the sun rise, gradually burning off the mist that hangs over the water, dancing in the shifting air currents.
In mid to late September, the landscape participates in this dance as well. The cooler nights cause mist to form within the trees and hillsides and the whole world seems blanketed in fog. As I stood on the dock looking across the lake, the thinning fog began to reveal bright colours showing through layers of green. There was a magic to these muted colours that I really enjoyed. And so, here they are. It’s a bit more subdued than most of my recent images, but also has a real sense of calm and anticipation all in one image.
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 200 mm
1/80 sec, f/4.5, ISO 100
“She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.”
― Roman Payne
If today’s forecast is any indication, it would appear that our wonderful, mild Ontario November is at an end and winter is anxiously knocking on our door.
That makes my memories of my ‘retreat’ at the beginning of this week all the more special. Cool nights and warm days brought a combination of colourful sunrises and a few foggy ones. Both are beautiful in their own way.
The image above was made this past Wednesday as the fog drifted lazily over the lake and draped the landscape with a layered veil, creating shadows in varying tones of gray. The landscape was quiet and serene as I stood on the shores of Fraser Lake, a gentle breeze moving tendrils of mist along the shoreline.
I felt the black and white image of this scene best conveyed the mood and puts me back to that time and place. A wonderful reminder of gentle November days to savour as the cold of winter takes hold.
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 175 mm
1/30 sec, f/2.8, ISO 200
High Res Image is on 500px
“Daybreak,’ he said, looking out at it. ‘I always thought it was funny that dawn should be called daybreak. This is when the day is made – it’s the beginning. I’ts the best part: you’ve got all the potential of the day to come, and you haven’t wasted yet. When it gets dark, that should be daybreak. When the day is broken. When it turns into night time, that’s when it all start’s to go wrong.”
― Erin Kelly
The recent November dawns and dusks have been spectacular, whether on the lake or off. With cool nights and warm days, fog, in all its forms was readily available.
On this particular morning the fog had lifted into a low, churning, cloud deck that left vestiges of itself lingering in the valley below. In the distant right, the sun makes its appearance, ready to burn off the moisture, leading into a beautiful sunny day with only traces of the cloud to remind us of how the day began.
Irish Valley is an area of northeastern Ontario just east of Bancroft in the North Hastings Highlands region. The Little Mississippi River meanders below pasture lands in the foreground. A little piece of paradise that I will miss over the winter.
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 70 mm
1/320 sec, f/9.0, ISO 800
“Did you not look upon the world this morning and imagine it as the boy might see it? And did you not recognize the mist and the dew and the birdsong as elements not of a place or a time but of a spirit? And did you not envy the boy his spirit? ” – Jamie O’Neill
Another image from my 2013 visit to one of my ‘sacred places’. The experience of spring in Yosemite, especially after a storm is something surreal. The mists twist and writhe among the peaks like something living. Scenes are fleeting, never to be repeated again. I stand in awe, at the movement and the changes in light, every moment a new frame in an endless play of wonders.
This image was made from the Tunnel View area and looks to a group of granite cliffs, just beside Bridalveil Falls. It looked to me like a chinese painting. And then it was gone again, lost in the mist, till new new scene was ready to play out.
Tamron 70-200 mm f/2.8 @200 mm
1/200 sec, f/4.5, ISO 200
A classic scene to those of us who spend time in the north.
After a cool night, the waters of the lake are warmer than the surrounding air and a thick fog forms. As the sun rises higher in the sky the fog begins to rise higher and higher to eventually form small clouds. The small clouds eventually join together to form larger clouds. It’s a fascinating process to watch. I often look up at summer clouds and wonder what lake that cloud came from.
Last Sunday was no exception. The warming sun played across the lake as mist swirled and rose higher and higher. The warm glow of the rising sun shone on the distant shoreline in golden hues.
For me, it’s such a calming scene and I could spend day after day watching each new day dawning, just like this.
I hope you enjoy the view.
Nikor 70-300mm @ 240mmm
1/160 sec @ f/6.3 ISO 2500
I have reflected on this photo many times. It was made one foggy morning in late September 2014. It was a cool morning and the air hung thick with fog and the feeling of change that comes at this time of year. I decided to go for a walk down to the lake shore. Through the fog, you could see the blue sky emerging, revealing shreds of clouds not typical of this time of year. On the lake, the swimming raft seemed to float in mid-air, the fog obscuring the line between water and air and a faint outline of the distant shore was barely discernible in the distance. The photo feels dream-like; somewhat haunting, yet peaceful. It represents transition, between the water and the sky, as well as the transition from summer to fall. It’s one of those photos that draws me in and causes me to see that there is more to it than first impressions would reveal.
Tamron 17-50 mm f/2.8 @17 mm
1/500 @ f/9.0, ISO 800