A wall of white water greets visitors to Laurel Falls. Can you spot the little magenta flashes of rhododendrons in the rocks?
Hiking through Stone Valley to capture a vibrant sunset over long-exposure-blurred rapids really only works if the sunset shows up for the party. What I found instead was a more quiet and contemplative view of early autumn in the Adirondacks.
Coming face to face with a monster waterfall at the end of a hike brings a refreshing sensation: invisible clouds of cool mist.
It’s a cliché of landscape photography that the huge scale of a landscape can best be conveyed be including a human. Though there is indeed a person in this picture, I think Laurel Falls needs no help. Perhaps that’s because of trail experience to reach it.
The apparently slow and placid water above Lampson Falls seems out of character with the dramatic torrent downstream.
Just before the solstice, I most appreciate processing my pictures from spring. The needles and fallen leaves of winter are still on the ground in this image from Lampson Falls, but new life is pushing through.
(Can you spot me on the left side of the picture, at the top of the falls?)
Evoking superhuman scale in photographs really requires a human scale bar, and the tiny people on the bridge were obliging enough to wear rain jackets in red, yellow, and turquoise that stand out from the natural hues.
Rolling Adirondack foothills make for a whole array of waterfalls around the North Country. Lampson Falls looks particularly good from this “impossible” (sans drone) profile perspective, with sunset light reflecting off the pool in the foreground.
Quadcopter drones give photographers access to all kinds of new angles for shots, but also introduce challenges that did not have to previously be considered. I should have thought in more detail about the orientation of the impressive Lampson Falls—and considered that I wouldn’t be able to get the steep face of the falls and the setting sun in the same shot. I guess I’ll have to get up at dawn for the “proper” version of this picture.
Flying again in the spring means a special view of the Adirondack foothills, particularly in areas like this: Lampson Falls in Clare, New York.
I cheekily posted this picture to Instagram with the caption, “Get ready for fall(s),” last weekend, but I have to admit I really am. Photographically, autumn means peak creativity for me in the North Country, including visits to places like this: Lampson Falls.
Winding against the river current (or the prevailing wind, in my drone’s case), one rounds a bend to find a pool and Lampson Falls in their ring of sunbaked rock and aromatic pine needles.
The three sides of the pool at the base of Lampson Falls take on drastically different characters: to the north, the fluffy rapids of the falls themselves; to the west, the sandy beach, popular with campers; to the south, the rocky mini-cliff where hikers lay in the sun. A small cluster of people happened to be on each side when I took this picture, providing a sense of scale to the very 3-D space.
The tiny people at the left side of the image provide a sense of the scale for the wide face of Clare, New York’s Lampson Falls. In spite of the frothy surface, the river is placid and friendly before and after the discontinuity.
Lampson Falls cuts through the woods where the St. Lawrence River Valley begins to transition into the Adirondacks. On this crisp fall afternoon, perfect weather accompanied the hikers exploring the groomed trails, campsites, and beach surrounding the falls.