Knee deep in mud, Laura and I lugged our photography gear far into the swamp on Knik River Road.
We had spotted three huge white swans where the tall grass and mud gave way to icy water.
My tall rubber boots sucked the bottom muck sinking deeper with each step.
Secretly fearing we were in quick sand, I wished I was at least light enough to hover just above the mud and glide over the swamp like an air boat.
Even if my budget allowed for such a luxury, the noise would scare the beautiful swans away.
There was no other way to get up close so we pressed on.
Laura, who is much stronger and younger than me, was advancing rapidly toward our gold.
After pausing for a moment to absorb our progress and assuring myself that the swans were unaware of our presence, I decided to take a break and assemble my camera and tripod.
I took my time wanting to fully enjoy the awesome view of mountains, water and birds.
The silence broken only my an occasional sharp shrill from one of the swans was calming after so many days of horrid financial news, screaming political accusations, and war news on the TV in the world of people.
I set up my three legged camping stool for a long spell of blending in with the animal world.
In the wilderness of Alaska, time has no importance for me.
Therefore, I can't tell you how long I quietly fiddled with my cameras or sat and stared at this wonderful world of nature.
Needless to say, I was in a world of my own.
I know enough time passed that my stomach commanded my attention with a loud growl for food.
It was quieted with a peanut butter sandwich washed down with cool aide.
I still eat like a kid.
Only then did I remember to go to work and photograph the swans.
Through my zoom lenses, I could see one swan brush her beak against the neck of another swan.
Feeling like a foreign spy, I hesitated only a second before clicking the camera to record the moment forever.
No click! Panicking, I tried again.
Nothing happened.
Upon investigation, I found that my batteries were dead.
In my defense, let me tell you that I am one of those artists that believe in painting with my brush alone.
So, how did I get out in a wild swamp with a ton of mechanical equipment? It wasn't my first choice.
You see I started out years ago dragging paint brushes, easel, and paints through the swamps, mountains, glaciers, even jungles to paint alli prima.
By the time I set up my gear and mixed my paints the wildlife were hiding from me.
Sometimes the sun had disappeared to.
After many failures, I realized that I need a quick method of capturing a unique moment before it was gone.
Then I could take my time and paint it in my studio using my photos like notes.
I invested in good camera equipment along with camping gear.
For a long, long time, I have tried to train myself to the disciplines of this mechanical art tool.
However, it is against my natural artistic nature of spontaneous action to have a mechanical device with its mechanical energy needs between me and my creations.
I am quieting my nervous twitches with the reassurances that I am indeed using a robotic like extension of myself when I enlist my camera as an artistic tool before I pick up my brush.
That said, maybe forgetting to charge the batteries is the result of my inter struggle over art tools.
Most likely it is just the result of my decreasing mental abilities or my natural artistic need to block out discipline.
After all that preparation, the gentle caressing swans remain an image only in my memory.
Through my tears, (I take these failures very hard and would have jumped and stomped had it not been for all the gooey mud), I looked up to see Laura in the distance.
I wondered why she was aiming her camera at me instead of the swans.
Wiping my eyes, I could see that she was shouting rapidly when suddenly she paused and waved her hands madly in the air.
I waved back.
She jumped up and down splashing the mud wildly and waving her camera and tripod.
I laughed, totally thrilled that I had found a friend that enjoyed the wilderness as much as I do.
Laura was acting so silly.
When she was close enough that I could her shouts, I realized she was trying to warn me.
Laura was shouting "Danger Moose!" I turned around to see an enormous bull moose a few feet from me.
He stared straight at me.
"Look behind you!" she screamed.
Thank goodness moose eat only vegetables.
Sitting down low and quiet on my stool, I didn't threaten him.
He slowly moved on.
Laura was out of breath as well as energy as she realized I was not going to be attacked by the vanishing moose.
Oh well, tomorrow is another day or so I've heard.
We had spotted three huge white swans where the tall grass and mud gave way to icy water.
My tall rubber boots sucked the bottom muck sinking deeper with each step.
Secretly fearing we were in quick sand, I wished I was at least light enough to hover just above the mud and glide over the swamp like an air boat.
Even if my budget allowed for such a luxury, the noise would scare the beautiful swans away.
There was no other way to get up close so we pressed on.
Laura, who is much stronger and younger than me, was advancing rapidly toward our gold.
After pausing for a moment to absorb our progress and assuring myself that the swans were unaware of our presence, I decided to take a break and assemble my camera and tripod.
I took my time wanting to fully enjoy the awesome view of mountains, water and birds.
The silence broken only my an occasional sharp shrill from one of the swans was calming after so many days of horrid financial news, screaming political accusations, and war news on the TV in the world of people.
I set up my three legged camping stool for a long spell of blending in with the animal world.
In the wilderness of Alaska, time has no importance for me.
Therefore, I can't tell you how long I quietly fiddled with my cameras or sat and stared at this wonderful world of nature.
Needless to say, I was in a world of my own.
I know enough time passed that my stomach commanded my attention with a loud growl for food.
It was quieted with a peanut butter sandwich washed down with cool aide.
I still eat like a kid.
Only then did I remember to go to work and photograph the swans.
Through my zoom lenses, I could see one swan brush her beak against the neck of another swan.
Feeling like a foreign spy, I hesitated only a second before clicking the camera to record the moment forever.
No click! Panicking, I tried again.
Nothing happened.
Upon investigation, I found that my batteries were dead.
In my defense, let me tell you that I am one of those artists that believe in painting with my brush alone.
So, how did I get out in a wild swamp with a ton of mechanical equipment? It wasn't my first choice.
You see I started out years ago dragging paint brushes, easel, and paints through the swamps, mountains, glaciers, even jungles to paint alli prima.
By the time I set up my gear and mixed my paints the wildlife were hiding from me.
Sometimes the sun had disappeared to.
After many failures, I realized that I need a quick method of capturing a unique moment before it was gone.
Then I could take my time and paint it in my studio using my photos like notes.
I invested in good camera equipment along with camping gear.
For a long, long time, I have tried to train myself to the disciplines of this mechanical art tool.
However, it is against my natural artistic nature of spontaneous action to have a mechanical device with its mechanical energy needs between me and my creations.
I am quieting my nervous twitches with the reassurances that I am indeed using a robotic like extension of myself when I enlist my camera as an artistic tool before I pick up my brush.
That said, maybe forgetting to charge the batteries is the result of my inter struggle over art tools.
Most likely it is just the result of my decreasing mental abilities or my natural artistic need to block out discipline.
After all that preparation, the gentle caressing swans remain an image only in my memory.
Through my tears, (I take these failures very hard and would have jumped and stomped had it not been for all the gooey mud), I looked up to see Laura in the distance.
I wondered why she was aiming her camera at me instead of the swans.
Wiping my eyes, I could see that she was shouting rapidly when suddenly she paused and waved her hands madly in the air.
I waved back.
She jumped up and down splashing the mud wildly and waving her camera and tripod.
I laughed, totally thrilled that I had found a friend that enjoyed the wilderness as much as I do.
Laura was acting so silly.
When she was close enough that I could her shouts, I realized she was trying to warn me.
Laura was shouting "Danger Moose!" I turned around to see an enormous bull moose a few feet from me.
He stared straight at me.
"Look behind you!" she screamed.
Thank goodness moose eat only vegetables.
Sitting down low and quiet on my stool, I didn't threaten him.
He slowly moved on.
Laura was out of breath as well as energy as she realized I was not going to be attacked by the vanishing moose.
Oh well, tomorrow is another day or so I've heard.
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