Rainy nights on the interstates are threatening, and few sights represent that better than the aligned brake lights of 18-wheelers, glaring out between the raindrops.
Tag: road
Until Next Time, North Country
Having spent almost the entire fall in the St. Lawrence County, having the opportunity to travel and change my scenery is welcome. Even as I contemplate the Chicago skyline, the North Country says goodbye with this pastoral sunrise
Clip the Apex
Historic Route 30 in the Columbia River Gorge is a driver’s paradise (though mixed with just the subtlest hint of peril from that wall and that hillside). In this particular image, I think that double-yellow line is perhaps showing you an insight into the driver’s mind.
On the road
Summer on the east coast is a lot different from summer on the west coast. While traveling through the tri-cities area of Tennessee I was floored by how verdant the landscape was at a time of year that the west coast is generally a virtual desert.
Through-Arch Bridge
Rivers cast a net over the northeast, one usually escaped with myriad bridges. Most are schlubby, utilitarian affairs, existing only to convey traffic (and never to inspire.) This particular through-arch bridge south of Canton, NY, however, brings a certain class to the whole “crossing a river” affair. The wood construction puts me in mind of Viking longboats and Scandinavia in general—very appropriate for the North Country. When even the patterns in the clouds align with the bridge, the drama is only heightened.
Miner Street Road Bridge
Another Saturday special: I took this image of a quiet bridge over the Grasser River (on the over-named Miner Street Road) tonight. This is far too much beautiful winter scenery for mid-March.
Mini Adventure
Through the long North Country winter (my favorite theme, of late), there are few activities more fun than bombing along empty back roads in my Mini. Camera on the seat next to me, tripod in the back, and gnarly snow tires beneath me. Adventure and strangeness and exploration: there’s always another road I’ve never before ventured down. In this photograph, I capture the experience: crusty Mini, open field, and the beginning of a lovely sunset.
Northern Bones
The North Country is still entrenched in winter. Maybe it always will be, for all I can tell. The roads are the salt-bleached bones of the once-living community; all we have left now is snow and storms and road-bones.
Road by the Fever Tree
African savannah isn’t the homogenous, steady monotony that it appears on the Discovery Channel. (Well, back when the discovery channel showed nature documentaries, anyway.) Dirt roads and hills criss-cross it, and fever trees like this one grow where more water is available. The yellow-green bark comes from photosynthetically active cells. The name comes from an interesting illustration of the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy: when early European settlers went near water, they tended to contract malaria (thus the fever). They incorrectly attributed this to the trees, rather than the mosquitos breeding in the water.
Working on the Weekend
Rising before dawn (and posting shots of buildings taken from slightly below and to the right) seems to be a recent trend for me. When I struggled out of bed to shoot a Saturday morning horse show on St. Lawrence University’s campus, I had the opportunity to capture the predawn North Country roads. No HDR, no fancy post-processing here (beyond some simple noise reduction). I present a quiet Saturday morning moment that captures the whole “stuck in time” 1980’s vibe of northern New York. You can almost hear Bruce Springsteen tracks playing in the background.
Oregon Surfaces
The topology of central Oregon at sunset is really very special: the land somehow has that “falling away beneath you” feeling of standing on a hilltop, that “in the hollow” feeling of standing in a valley, and that “goes on forever” feeling of standing on a plain all at the same time. Combine this with the variety of surfaces and textures to experience (gravel, grass, tarmac, wood, lake, sky, woods), and the experience becomes some hyperdimensional superposition of places and moments in time. With just the right car for the particular evening, you have a recipe for perfection.
Grizzly Sunset
The Sun never quite cooperates, even when it’s at its loveliest. Winter means stark sunsets behind the Golden Gate Bridge or San Francisco itself; summer typically means only foggy nights. This was a rare occasion with broad cloud-wings in the upper atmosphere, but in early summer, the Sun drops behind the hills to the north.
Guest Post: Uphill
Today’s post comes courtesy of Colin Hill.
The last hints of unseasonable spring snow grace the ground, and the gently curving roads of the Berkshires make an amateur racetrack for the teenagers of the town.
San Francisco Arc
Climbing Telegraph Hill on foot means stairs. Lots and lots of stairs.
Climbing Telegraph Hill by car means loops. Lots and lots of loops.
(Though I’m sure my memory is exaggerating.) On that winding road through the trees and stones, under the watchful eyes of the wild parrots, are occasional glimpses of the Golden Gate Bridge. With the last wisps of sunlight landing on the hill, the craggily texture of the tarmac and the rocks and trees contrast so perfectly the with the far-off Platonic idealism of that bridge.
Power Out: Scene of the Crash
I live above a four-way intersection, and see three or four big crashes a year—typically from drunk drivers who run the red light. This particular night, however, saw insanity in the intersection due to a multi-hour power outage. The normally orange-hued nighttime tarmac was, on this night, lit only by headlights, emergency flashers, and road flares. It was all very strange, very surreal, and the perfect subject for a photograph.
Decaseconds 