Notice that I called this article the “spirit” of adventure. The spirit of adventure can mean many different things.  The first time I stood in front of an audience, I considered that to be embracing “the spirit of adventure”  The many tens of thousands of miles that I have roamed on this continent, just me and my cameras, were all adventures, just for the fact that I did it.

I have written much about my adventures on these and other pages. I want to make one thing clear, I am not, nor have I ever meant to infer that I am brave. I do however live with the spirit I am talking about.

I have a healthy, but I believe normal fear of heights.  I love to fly, I have no fear whatsoever of standing on top of a tall building as long as you don’t ask me to balance on the edge.  I can drive a car (or truck) on high mountain roads with large drops, as long as the road is of a normal width. I don’t need a guard rail, as long as there is a shoulder.  Narrow roads that lack guard rails and permit two-way traffic definitely promote the fear in me. Yet many of my adventures have come with cars on those kinds of mountain roads.

In the late 1980s or early 1990s, I caught a flight to Seattle with the intent to spend a week with the mountains, rainforests and Pacific coast of Washington State.  I secured my rental van at the airport in Seattle and headed around the bottom of Puget Sound in the direction of Olympic N. P.  It was raining heavy but as I came within 25 miles of the mountainous portion of the park, it finally began to clear.  I spotted a sign that showed an arrow to the left, and was marked Olympic N. P.  This must be our poorest national park, (I said to myself)  because the sign was weathered wood, small, and barely readable.  I turned at the proper place and was thrilled to find a small quiet road that climbed through the forest. It climbed and climbed.  As the road narrowed I figured that this must be a small scenic byway of the park. There was no traffic. None. I left timberline and  found myself on a narrow one lane dirt road, that balanced on the edge of the mountain.  I drove around a sharp corner and if I were to continue, I would either have to drive up the sheer side of the mountain, or over the edge.  I decided that backing up was my only real option. Slowly, inch by inch I backed up around a series of blind corners with maybe a foot and a half (seemed like an inch) between the right side of my van and the edge of the mountain cliff. I eventually backed my way into the wooded area and then to a portion of the road that was wide enough to turn around.  Oh yes, at one point in my adventure in reverse, I spotted another small weathered sign that stated “danger, road ends”  I was so busy looking for birds on my way up, that I missed it. I never again missed another sign like that.  I finally arrived back at the bottom of the mountain, thoroughly drenched in sweat.

I once slept along a trail in The Boundary Waters Wilderness of Minnesota. I had hiked eight miles for landscapes and a sunset, and of course I knew I would have to complete most of my eight mile return hike in the dark.  I certainly had no intention of staying there in the backcountry. Even with a good flashlight the main trail and those sub-trails began to all look-alike. I spent my night alone in the wilderness. I listened as a large wolf pack howled in the distance and received return howls by a lone wolf that was close by.  The single wolf eventually came within a stones throw of me, and then disappeared into the night. A lifetime of learning about wolves meant I had no fear of the furry canines and was able to enjoy the cold chill of their call, with a warm heart.  As the sky began to lighten, I continued on my journey with confidence, that I could now find my way.

I’ve talked many times about my sunset hike in the Sonoran Desert.  This short hike lasted from around 5:30 pm to after midnight.  I became confused while down among the Saguaro Cactus in the post sunset darkness.  Clouds moved in shortly after sunset, making this desert….very dark.  I wandered around for nearly five hours before I finally came to the road where my car was parked. I neither heard any cars or spotted any headlights during that time.  I immediately went to sleep in my car.  After daylight I took a very brief walk into the nearby cactus forest only to realize that I had been within 200 feet of my car several times during the night. I had never been more than half a mile from the car.

Do you notice a repeating theme? Things look very, very different at night.

My sister and I once did a week on horseback in the Canadian Rockies. There were moments in the wet and freezing cold that I may have questioned the decision to make that trip. We stayed in one camp two days instead of one, and several of us took a day trip over a mountain and through a gorge. At one point we (and our horses of course) were slowly edging ourselves along a two foot path that rimmed a 800 foot drop into the gorge. I am pretty good with horses in high places, but there were two moments when I began to wonder just how surefooted my horse was. We of course made it back to camp. The thing about physical hardships or fear is that once you are rested, warm, and no longer in danger, you have created yourself a wonderful memory (and story) for life.  In my memory, it was one of the best weeks of my life.

Many, many years ago I hiked and climbed to the top of the 14,000 + foot Long’s Peak in Colorado.  Even having a moderate fear of heights might deter some, but the challenge was important to me. I made it up (and down) without incident.  I was in great physical condition in those days and I now wished I would have climbed a few more peaks.

The horseback trip and the mountain climb were planned adventures while the Minnesota, Arizona and Washington State adventures were accidents. It really doesn’t matter which kind we are talking about, it is all about your attitude. If you embrace each experience, and go on to new adventures, then you have the spirit with you.  I understand not repeating adventures that are scary and dangerous, but I never understand living with an ongoing fear from something that is over. You made it back, now embrace and enjoy the memory.

One thing that I am not talking about, is taking crazy risks.  It is about having the spirit inside of you to accept adventure, and then from time to time challenging yourself. Of course there will be all of those great stories you can tell in the years to come.  While it is true that I was never paid to speak about my adventures, you can bet that when I was giving slide shows and trying to be entertaining as well as educational, I recanted many of them.

Adventures can be found in the world’s most remote and exotic locations, yet they are waiting for you in your own backyard. It’s all about having the spirit in you.

The pictures below have nothing to do with today’s article.

Color of light again? Yes. The two pictures below are of the same coyote. The top image was made right after sunrise, and the second was made 5 minutes later. You can see the warmth fading before your eyes.

I think all of us in the Northland await with joy, the spring return of many different species of birds. Certainly Red-winged Blackbirds, Robins and Common Grackles lead the way in this area.  My personal favorites are Caspian Terns. I imagine the fact that I live by Lake Michigan makes them special to me, but I would suggest for any wildlife photographer to give these guys a try.  They are active and entertaining.

Probably my favorite waterbirds for seasonal plumage changes are Loons and Horned Grebes.  All of my images of loons are in summer plumage but with Horned Grebes in spring, in one day you can return home with every variation of plumage.

The first picture below shows a Horned Grebe just leaving its winter colors, and the second is almost all of the way into summer plumage.

I think every photographer agrees that woodpeckers and members of the greater family of woodpeckers, are fun to watch and exciting to photograph. The Northern Flicker (yellow shafted variety) is one of those birds, although you will get as many pictures of them on the ground as in a tree. That makes them interesting.

We’ve all made pictures of wading birds has created some images like the ones below.  This Great-blue Heron patiently watched and waited for a good 30 minutes in hopes that a nice big fish would swim past.  In the end the wait was just barely worth it.  A pretty small fish for such a large bird.  Of course you should have seen the one that got away!

I fail to find the words to explain how much I love observing God’s creatures and waiting on the “moment“.

As an aside, in 2008 I saw a Great-blue Heron here in Wisconsin during the month of January.  The meant I have seen this “migratory” wader during every month of the year in our northern climate. If there is open water that is wadable, and there are some fish available, you will find a GBH in the neighborhood.

I have always believed my job is to show both the beautiful and the not so beautiful in nature. This wrinkled and tattered Tiger Swallowtail butterfly tells a different story than those gorgeous Swallowtails that I have photographed oh so many times. I believed that this one is simply old and tattered, although it does still possess many of its shiny scales.  That could mean it is young and it came out of the chrysalis deformed. Either way there is a story to tell, and the job of illustrating that story, is one that we should be happy to accept.

Just a few compositional words about the image above.   Notice that the butterfly is composed centered, left to right. Normally in a shot like this with a artfully perfect butterfly, I would likely tip the camera just a bit. Then I would take the subject off-center leaving a little extra space in the direction that it is tipped. Because this was a natural history image only I wanted it as straightforward and clinical as possible.

Happy trails and have an adventuresome day.                                                                           Wayne