Essex: The Winter Marsh

The seasons are rolling by, and life is busy and full as ever. After a long break from exploring and photographing, Jane and I finally make it a point to take a break during the end-of-year holidays. COVID is back on the rise with the holiday season and cold weather, so we spend a week mainly holed up at home, watching TV, reading and writing, and beginning to dream and plan big things for 2022. We manage to get out of town on the day after Christmas, driving up to Cape Ann to explore its Great Marsh and beach dunes after a fresh round of snowfall. One of the wonderful things about winter photography is the brevity and quality of the daylight - the gentle glow of the sun as it makes its low arc from southeast to southwest. In the winter, it’s possible to set out from home at a humane hour and hike and shoot from sun-up to sun-down, all the while enjoying lovely, indirect light. The tradeoffs, of course, are the stiff cold, the wintery coastal winds, the trekking through ice and slush, and the unpredictability of rapidly-draining lithium ion batteries (thanks Sony!). But the preparation, the challenge, the dressing in layers upon layers - is all part of the excitement. I find the process only makes the result of these images all the more rewarding.

We leave Boston on a Sunday after sunrise, encountering more and more snowy meadows and forests - the powdery stuff freshly fallen overnight - as we head north along the 95 North. We arrive in Newbury, MA (just north of Ipswich) just past 8 AM, and set off on a brief walk from Old Town Hill down to the banks of the Parker River. I have some fun with my new ultra-light carbon-fiber tripod, taking long-lens landscapes of the snow-covered marshes and pine forests, and wide-aperture portraits of Jane and trees. I’m rediscovering my love for woodland photography which I developed over the years in Maryland. In the middle of the woods, away from sweeping landscapes and airy vistas, the eye is drawn to more intimate details - the character and personality of trunks and branches, the quiet fortitude and intricacy of bark and fallen leaves, and the interplay between light and shadow, chaotic tangles and open clearings. These details are especially salient in the winter months, without the distraction of canopy or foliage or color. They make for some lovely photographic subjects.

After our little ramble along the river, Jane and I return to the car and drive south to Crane Beach in Ipswich. We’ve never been to the beach proper (or to the towering Tudor revivalist mansion estate that overlooks it), though we did take Jane’s sister and brother-in-law apple-picking at the nearby Russell Orchards earlier in the fall. During the warmer seasons, the place is a madhouse; now in the off-season, we pay the modest visitor’s fee and park at the massive, mostly deserted gravel parking lot leading to the shore. After a brief walk along the sandy beach, we turn inland and head off on the trails that criss-cross the backshore dunes and their pitch-pine forests. Even in the winter, the walks here are popular; we pass a few groups of hikers and birders (searching for the elusive and beautiful snowy owls that over-winter here in coastal Massachusetts), and it is heartening to see people spending the holiday weekend with family outdoors and in nature, despite the cold, dreary weather and the ever-present pandemic. After hiking a four-mile double-loop, clambering up and down steep dunes with sweeping views along the coast and inland toward Essex Bay, we retreat to the car and drive into town for a well-earned lunch. We eat at the famous Woodman’s of Essex, a veritable instituion of a seafood shack with over a hundred years of history. We treat ourselves to a holiday-sized heap of fried clams, onion rings, chowder, and clam cakes.

In the afternoon, to kill some time before sunset at Wingaersheek Beach, we stop at the Tompson Street Reservation in Gloucester and take a brief hike up the hillside to photograph the hardwood swamp, a frozen expanse dotted with barren maples and white cedar stumps. Along the way, I photograph Jane standing beside an absolutely massive glacial erratic; on the trail, we alternate between watching our footing on the icy path, admiring the area’s diverse riparian and coastal ecosystems (dunes, marshes, estuaries, and swamps), and engaging in a round-robin debate comparing the attractiveness of male actors (I reach a steady state of Henry Cavill over Brad Pitt and George Clooney). Back in the car, we make the short drive north to Wingaersheek Beach (another summer madhouse reduced to a casual, closed-for-the-season locale for the locals). The beach lot itself is barred, but we are able to park before the gate and walk in on foot. We encounter quite a few dog walkers (accompanied by their chihuhuas and French bulldogs in sweater vests), as well as equally numerous signs admonishing dog walkers for leaving behind doggy poop bags. For our part, Jane and I walk up and down the beach, and I photograph the golden hour light as it strikes the nearby houses, beach grasses, and trees. I set up my tripod to take long exposures of Annisquam Lighthouse on the distant peninsula - a mostly unsuccessful endeavor as my ultralight pod is buffetted by the strong evening winds, blowing off the coast in the wake of last night’s passing storm. As it grows dark, we make our way back to the car and drive back toward Boston. We’re back home by 5 PM, with a full day of exploration and rejuvenation behind us.

Massachusetts: Berkshire Autumn

Rounding out our October fall foliage double-header after a two-night stay in central Vermont, Jane and I take another weekend driving tour of Western Massachusetts, this time accompanied by my mom (visiting from California). After a rainy, lush summer, the colors have been slower to turn here in Massachusetts, especially following a long, drawn-out Indian summer in the early part of the month. The kind weather is a boon for us fragile California kids, so used are we to turning directly from air conditioning to heating. This year, we’ve removed the window AC and kept the windows open all month, welcoming the cool, comfortable night breeze. Autumn has been slow to reach us on the coast. We drive inland on Route 2, seeking some measure of color here in our home state.

After an hour and a half’s drive westward, we leave the highway and reach our first destination - the Bear’s Den Nature Reserve in New Salem. We’re the only ones exploring this lovely gem of an area this morning; a burbling creek runs eastward through a beautiful forest glen, passing through a jumble of moss-covered granites and quartzites. Jane clambers over the slippery, leaf-covered rocks as we make our way upriver, stopping to photograph the small falls at the head of the glen. It is an extraordinarily beautiful, peaceful scene.

A new minutes south, we return the village of New Salem, which we last visited in late December. Just as last time, we park beside the town’s little library and walk the path behind its fire station to an overlook of the Quabbin Reservoir’s northern reaches. The view here is tough; the path descends as you approach the viewpoint, such that the distant reservoir and its islands are largely obsured by the treeline. Today, however, we are treated to a lovely rainbow of maples at the overlook. I take some far shots as well as intimate woodland close-ups before we move on.

Rejoining Rt. 2 and continuing west, we stop to photograph the Connecticut River at French King Bridge and at the Bridge of Flowers in Shelburne Falls. In town, we eat lunch and browse the shops briefly; we come upon Boswell’s Books, a tuxedo-cat-owned bookstore, a waving flag at its door proudly displaying the image of its namesake. A shop after my very own heart. Further west, we enter the Berkshires, following the historic Mohawk Trail as it winds through tree-lined gorges and mountain passes, following the course of the Cold River. We make photo stops at the Whitcomb Summit Retreat, and at the hairpin turn just before the highway descends into North Adams. The light is largely flat and cloud-covered, but the airy views into the Hoosic River valley are phenomenal.

For our last stop of the day, we make our way through North Adams and up Notch Road to the summit of Mount Greylock, the state’s tallest peak. From the top, we can see tremendous sights in all directions: the Taconic Ridge in New York State, the southern reaches of Vermont’s Green Mountains, and the Pioneer Valley to the east, across an undulating landscape of valleys and mountain massifs. To the southwest, a storm is blowing in; the summit is both blustery and crowded, so we don’t stay long. We check into our motel in the valley, and after enjoying a nice dinner and getting caught in a furious downpour at Bounti-Fare Restaurant, we retire for the night.

The next morning brings clearing clouds and bright, sunny skies. We leave our motel early, driving through a quiet Adams and heading back eastward on Rt. 116, which cuts through the heart of the rolling hills and hill-towns of the Berkshires. The sun shines constantly on my eyes on the drive; I’m relieved when we pull off the highway at the D.A.R. State Forest. We first ascend, via a muddy, bumpy dirt road, to the park’s hilltop fire tower. The watchtower is locked for the season, but we get gorgeous 360-degree views after climbing to the top of the stairs. Back down the hill, we pause briefly at the campground to walk along the nearby reservoir, before driving a short distance away to the Old Creamery Co-op in Cummington, where we enjoy a delicious breakfast of juice, fresh coffee, and bagel sandwiches.

Our second stop of the day is the William Cullen Bryant estate (now a Trustees reservation), just a few minutes away from the co-op. Here, we briefly look at the old barn and homestead before moving our car to the Rivulet trailhead, near a five-way intersection of country roads. The trail meanders for about a mile-and-a-half, following a musical little stream through old-growth forest, a magical place filled with ancient hemlocks, magnificent pines and birches, and some of the tallest ash and cherry trees in the region. I will let the first verse of Bryant’s famous poem about his childhood woodland - and the images below - speak for themselves.

This little rill that, from the springs
Of yonder grove, its current brings,
Plays on the slope a while, and then
Goes prattling into groves again,
Oft to its warbling waters drew
My little feet, when life was new.
When woods in early green were dressed,
And from the chambers of the west
The warmer breezes, travelling out,
Breathed the new scent of flowers about,
My truant steps from home would stray,
Upon its grassy side to play,
List the brown thrasher's vernal hymn,
And crop the violet on its brim,
With blooming cheek and open brow,
As young and gay, sweet rill, as thou.

- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
”The Rivulet”

After departing the Bryant estate, we briefly visit the Chesterfield Gorge before proceeding east, descending from the hill-towns into Deerfield and the Pioneer Valley. We re-visit the the top of Mt. Sugarloaf to see its famous view of the Connecticut River; the valley looks much more verdant and colorful than it did last winter. Down from the mountain, we eat lunch of Shanghainese dishes and noodle soups in Amherst before checking into our accommodations and taking a nap. In the late afternoon, we leave town and pass southeast through Belchertown to reach the southern portion of the Quabbin Reservoir. The autumn foliage is not yet quite as tremendous as when I visited this area with Lindsey last October, but we still get some lovely views at sundown. At the Enfield Lookout, we’re treated to a series of passing rainclouds and a stunning rainbow, which I use my polarizer to bring out on camera. Down at the Winsor Dam, we take some photos of the western hills before returning to Amherst for the night. From there, it’s a long drive on the Pike all the way back to the city the next morning.

Essex: Summer Sunrises

It’s been a busy summer in the city - with our jobs, with settling into our new home, and with planning for another upcoming year. We’re trying to make good use of our limited time, exploring some beautiful natural places we haven’t seen so far in our new home state.

———

August 14, 2021: A brief sunrise shoot in the Harold Parker State Forest. I’ve had my eye on this location for some time, a small parking turnoff where several walking trails meet between two ponds. It turns out to be a fruitful spot; the rising sun coats the nearby pine-covered shores and curving peninsulas in a beautiful golden light. We will plan to return in the winter for snoeshowing.

August 28, 2021: A pre-dawn hike in North Andover, along the shores of Lake Cochichewick. I photograph sunrise over the lake and some of the open southward views from the top of Weir Hill. Afterward, we drive to nearby Smolak Farm for some amazing breakfast sandwiches, apple cider and cider donuts (it’s never too early; if they’re on sale, I’m buying them), and a nice walk around the grounds, spending time with the domesticated deer (watching one buck get its antlers rather stuck in the chicken wire), the resident peacock, and a potbellied big.