This picture is a shot from the outskirts of Emerson Preserve in Bradenton. Whenever the water is still like this, I jump at the opportunity to create images featuring reflections. They impart a sense of calm, however, for me, taking this picture was nothing short of panic.
To get here, I walked through the brush to the bank of the water next to a kayak launch. I wanted to be right over the water, so I had to step in with my tripod. I was surprised as my tripod quickly sank in the mud; however, it stabilized, and I took this image. Nevertheless, it didn't feel right, and I felt like I should get out. As I turned to leave, I realized I too was sinking.
The mud turned into a quicksand-like substance and I, along with my expensive camera and tripod started to go down. It was only with great effort that I managed to save my camera and free myself. I walked back to my car coated in a layer of mud and a little shaken, yet thankful that I managed to keep the camera above water. So now, ironically, when I look at this calm scene, I feel a twinge of panic.
Highway 240 loops through the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. I took this photo near the entrance to the park. The geological formations of The Badlands are amazing to look at, but in this frame, I was looking at the winding road ahead. The entire thirty-mile loop is scenic winding roads with turnouts every half mile or so.
If I had a motorcycle, this is where I'd ride. The road has everything, curves, hills, and of course scenery. When I came through here, it was a couple of weeks before Sturgis, and already groups of bikers were riding in that direction. I met one biker from Montreal when I took this photo. We chatted for a while because we were both into photography.
In these grassy plains are hundreds, if not thousands, of prairie dogs. We'd stop along the side of the road and watch their antics; it was a regular circus. We continued down the road, eventually arriving in Rapid City. That night we had a massive thunderstorm, like those we get in Florida. It made me think about the constant erosion of this landscape as well as all those groundhogs hiding in their burrows.
The other day my wife and I played nine holes at a local course. I'm not a good golfer, but it doesn't mean I won't bring my camera. As we were waiting for the group ahead, I grabbed this photo of a water hazard at the third tee.
During the week I rarely get out during the day. That's a shame because the first part of the day is when we get these puffy clouds. Florida is hot as hell, and somehow that creates these evenly spaced clouds. But I digress, when I squint my eyes the reflections on the water reminded me of a kaleidoscope, and that's why I took this photo.
The thing about the golf course ponds in Florida is they nearly all have alligators. We didn't see any in this one, but in two others we did. When I first came to Florida, it was a little freaky, but now I'm used to it. They do their thing, and we continue hitting little white balls. But if the ball goes into the water hazard, it's not advisable to fish it out. I'm just saying.