The Vaska Theatre Sign Still Lights the Lawton Sky.

Built in 1948, the Vaska Theatre, located at 1902 NW Ferris Avenue, is the oldest movie theatre in Lawton, OK.  It may not be as modern or have the latest technology like the multi-screen theatres in town, but it still has a lot to offer.  You can see movies for $3.00, you get free refills on large popcorns and sodas, and their longevity, having opened in 1948,  means they are dependable.  To point out the latter, Lawton suffered the worst ice storm, in anyone’s memory, on Thursday, January 28, 2010.  It shut the whole town down, taking out power to about 30,000 people and doing indescribable damage to trees throughout the city.  Many people were without electricity for 7 days, or longer, and the schools were closed for 7 days, too.  Well, you can imagine my surprise when looking out a back window of my house, I saw the top of the Vaska tower aglow from the red neon lights.  It didn’t surprise me that they had eclectricity, because we had been blessed and spared that particular misfortune at our house, only a block away.  What caught me offguard was that they were open, at all.  I thought to myself, “How great that during a time of hardship, for many, the Vaska was sending the message loud and clear of stability and strength, steadfastness in the face of adversity, and reaching out to all who sought refuge from the storm.”  This photo was taken the next night to record the proud moment in the Vaska’s rich history.

Icy Sycamore Fruit Balls

The severe winter storm meteorologists had been forecasting for five days finally arrived in Southwest Oklahoma in full force Thursday morning.  People leaving home for work Thursday morning were greeted by wind, rain, and dropping temperatures.  Ice began forming on everything off the ground by 10:00 AM.  People going to lunch at noon found a thickening layer of ice on their windshields and north side of their autos.  The office where I work began the day on reduced services to prevent staff from facing the perils that only increased throughout the day.  By 2:00 PM, our office was closed.   However, I stayed because I was able to get so much done due to the lack of distractions.  I could here the ice pelting the roof and the wind rumbling across it.  Finally, about 4:00 PM, I decided to give it up and go home.  By then I had a good 5/16″ layer of ice on my windshield and north facing windows.  There was even a thicker layer on the north side.  I was unable to open the passenger door because it was frozen shut. I had already started the engine of my 1993 Toyota XCab DLX 4×2 pickup truck and had the defroster blowing high and hot.  Thirty-five years ago I had been given a piece of aircraft windshield plastic measuring 3″x5″x1/2″ and it has proven to be the best tool ever for chipping and chiseling ice.  I retrieved it from the glove box that’s been its home for the past 17 years, along with a can of de-icer.  I learned sometime ago that de-icer doesn’t work well on thick in freezing temperatures.  I planned on spraying it on the glass surfaces after the ice had been removed.  Well, once again that old piece of aircraft plastic was up to the task and in no time the ice had succumbed to its pressure and was fragmented in small pieces littering the parking lot surface.

Standing in the freezing rain and gusting wind, I could hear sirens wailing in all directions.  I only live two miles from where I work in Lawton, Oklahoma, so I was never really worried about getting home safely.  I was hoping most people would be off the streets at that time so I wouldn’t have to drive too defensively.  The five 50lb. sacks of sand distributed in the bed of my truck would make traction better, but actually the streets were still mostly liquid from the bountiful rain we received before it began to freeze.  For several days prior to this cold front, we had enjoyed unseasonably warm temperatures so the ground was still warm enough to melt everything, at this point.  What I wasn’t prepared for was the damage to the trees that was already taking place.

I was correct that traffic would be light and I was sure thankful, too.  Broken tree limbs were littering the streets in several place requiring me to swerve into other lanes to get past.  I would do the same whenever I could avoid passing under large limbs sagging under their icy burden.  We’ve lived in Lawton for 12 years, and I’ve never seen this before.  Having grown up in Southwest Oklahoma, I’m become used to winter ice storms; it seems we have more of them than we do snow storms.  The drive home was without mishap, but not without an element of suspense.  In just that two miles, I saw two ambulances, two fire trucks, and three LPD units, sirens blaring and lights flashing, rushing to, what appeared to be unrelated, assistance to someone in distress.  I couldn’t help but offer up a prayers for safety and comfort.

Snow and Ice at Osage Lake

It was the day after Christmas 2009, and two days since the biggest blizzard in over 20 years blanketed Southwest Oklahoma with amounts of snow varying from 2 to 8 inches.  Throughout the area, thin layers of snow lay alongside deep snow drifts, the results of 30-40 mph winds.  There was barely a breeze stirring today; the sky was blue and clear as far as one could see, and warmth from the sun felt so good!  The family had come to the Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge primarily to get out of the house but also to see the snow on the Refuge.  It was already mid-afternoon so we weren’t expecting to be the first footprints in the snow.  However, we were soon to be disappointed when we discovered that areas such as Boulder and Sunset had not even had their gates opened for access.  We may have been disappointed, but our intent to have fun was not thwarted.  Since we were in two vehicles, I led the group to the Treasure Lake – Post Oak Lake Area because I was confident we could get up the road and there were no gates to be closed, anyway.  Soon we found ourself out of the cars, enjoying the fresh air, the young bison grazing nearby on Indian Grass poking through the snow, and throwing snowballs at each other.  After a good time was had by all, and hands and feet were becoming uncomfortably cold, the family decided to drive to Mamaw’s house for a visit.  I opted to remain in the WMWR in search of interesting photo opportunities.  I was certain I could find some.After the family and I separated, they went one way and I went the other, I turned my thoughts to finding something that would capture this winter wonderland on the Refuge.  As I approached the turn-off to the parking lot at Osage Lake, I questioned whether I really wanted to make the near half mile hike on to the lake.  The first thing I noticed, after parking and exiting my truck, was that I was the first person put footprints in this snow.  I became excited about the prospects of being the first person to travel this trail, to be the first to see the beauty of GOD’s virgin snow on this landscape.  I estimated there was about an hour and a half of daylight left, as I took the first step down the snowy trail, backpack loaded with camera and survival gear snug against my back, my Sony A700 hanging off my right shoulder, and my tripod balanced over my left.  Wow, was I shocked when my  left boot disappeared from view as the snow rose to just below my knee.  I was glad to see this drift was narrow as evidenced by the bare trail visible only 10 feet ahead.  I gathered my balance together and trudged on.

After correcting a bad choice regarding which fork of the trail to take, and expending more energy than I wanted getting back to the correct fork, I finally approached Osage Lake.  The sun was beginning to get low in the western sky, casting long shadows and warm glow across the snow.  The banks of Osage Lake are primarily granite cliffs with limited access to the water’s edge.  The western cliffs were already casting long dark shadows across the thin layer of ice sealing entirely the surface of the lake in a thin layer of shimmering light.  Since my intention was to be making HDR (high dynamic range) images, I was excited by the prospect.  As it turned out I would have preferred more sunlight across the ice, but I’m not disappointed.  I like the overall result and I’m absolutely positive, I am the only person who saw was blessed to see this winter wonderland on Osage Lake.

Christmas Lights Reflect in the waters of Bath Lake

It was earlier in December when I visited Medicine Park for my first attempt at capturing their Christmas Spirit though their Christmas Light displays.  My plan was to use the high dynamic range (HDR) technique to capture the emotions I feel when viewing the display of lights around Bath Lake.  I thought I had a good plan, but as it turned out, it wasn’t good enough.

It was well past sunset when I turned off Hwy. 49, and toward Medicine Park.  The sky was black since the “new moon” was two nights past, and the thin slice of  the current moon was setting in the astronomical twilight, and having no effect, at all.  I thought this would be a great time for making good HDR images of the lights.  The Christmas Light displays did not disappoint.  I spent the next 2 1/2 hours in a fantasy frame of mind moving back and forth on the walkway that runs along the east bank of Medicine Creek.  A wedding reception was taking place at the same time at the Medicine Park Music Hall.  The cold, but calm, night air was filled with the music from the band, the laughter of people having a good time, and the sound of water, reflecting the many colors of light, pouring over the falls of Bath Lake.  It was a magical night and I was having a great time!  However, my resulting images weren’t what I was hoping for.

While HDR is a much better way to approach the capturing of Christmas Lights and the magical feelings they cause to rise within me, the lights in a pitch black darkness are a problem.  I believe my results would have been much better if I had been earlier and was able to benefit from the illumination from the sky at civil, or even nautical twilight.  Also, a sky illuminated by a full, or almost full, moon would help a lot.

Iron Foot Bridge

Sunday afternoon was beautiful with temperatures into the 60s.  While Sherry, Marcy, Erin, and Mike hiked the Elk Mountain Trail up Elk Mountain located on the Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge in Southwest Oklahoma, I stayed at the bottom searching for photographic opportunities in the Sunset Picnic Area.  The old footbridge crossing Headquarters Creek was replaced with a new recently constructed ironwork bridge.  It is being allowed to age naturally.  I think it’s a nice and thoughtful touch.  The dominating red color in the granite and soil of Southwest Oklahoma is due to the high levels of oxidized iron; this oxidized iron bridge is a perfect fit.  The image is a 4 exposure HDR image.  I used a polarizing filter on my Carl Zeis 16-80mm lens to bring out the moss growing on the bottom of the stream.

Reesie Stalks Her Prey!

Throughout most of my life I have learned and practiced my photography skills in solitude.  However, this year I decided I would join our local photography club, “Wichita Wildlight Photographic Society“.  We meet once a month and enjoy being in a room with people who are there because they have some degree of passion for photography.  It’s a real mixture of people, representative of any group of 50 people you might form from the Walmart crowd.  Anyway, back in October, about 20, or so, of us loaded onto a bus at the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge Visitor Center for an excursion into the Special Use area.  The Special Use area is closed to the public and contains well over half of the Refuge itself.  I had never been in this section of the WMWR, so I was excited to go even though 3:00 PM is not the best light to for photographs.It was difficult to decide what equipment to take along on this Southwest Oklahoma safari.  I watched the weather reports closely, trying to get some feeling for what the conditions might be that day.  I finally decided, regardless of sunshine or overcase skies, I would enjoy the sights, but photograph the people instead of the wildlife.  Having to the public use areas of the WMWR more times than I can guess, I figured we’d never get close enough to the real wildlife for even my longest telephoto, a 400 mm Sigma APO, even using my 1.4 teleconverter.  My best chance, I decided was to pack light taking only my Sony 70-200 G.  As it turned out, my thinking was exactly correct, for me!

When 3:00 PM arrived and we were loading on the bus, the sky was 100% overcast with heavy dark grey clouds.  I boosted the ISO on my A700 up to 400, from the usual 160 or 200.   I grabbed my monopod from the pickup, an extra battery, and my Gepe card case containing 4, 2GB CF cards, and headed for the bus.  I intended, from the outset, to try my hand at high dynamic range photographs of my fellow club members.  The overcast skies, and my ISO, would force some slow shutter speeds so I knew I would not be able to take multiple exposures bracketing like usually do.  I would need to make one image and then use my RAW converter, of choice, to create two more images, one -2 EV, and one +2 EV.  The afternoon proved to be exciting, challenging, and rewarding as I was able to come up with some results I like.

"Barns of Southwest Oklahoma"

It was late in the evening; the sun had already sank below the infinitely broad western horizon of Kiowa County.  Earlier in the day I had taken Hwy. 54 north to 152, then west to Cordell, and finally north on 183 into Clinton, OK.  I enjoyed the drive; I always do.  However, it’s not uncommon for me to return a different route.  Late in the afternoon, as I began my return trip, I decided to continue on 183 south out of Cordell then turn east on Hwy. 9, a couple miles south of Rocky.  This would take me to the intersection of Hwy. 9 & 54, at Gotebo.  Though several miles away, I could faintly see the lights of Gotebo ahead where Hwy. 9 intersects with Hwy. 54.  I had never traveled this eleven miles before and it was not out of the way, so what the heck?  I questioned my decision just south of Cordell as I came upon some extensive road construction.  The flagman had us stopped waiting our turn to go for so long I turned off the engine.  There was nothing else to do since I was hemmed-in, both front and rear.  After what seemed like twenty minutes, but was probably much less, the lead car came to lead us, slowly, to the other end of the construction, just a few short miles north of Rocky.Rocky is small farming community.  Highway 183 runs right through the middle of town, as do most highways in most communities in Southwest Oklahoma.  The grain elevators dominate the horizon and a railroad parallels the highway.  I’m curious, as I pass through, to know more about Rocky, it’s origins, it’s namesake, it’s past highlights.  Perhaps on a another day I’ll stop, visit the post office and ask some questions.

Six miles south of Rocky, Highway 9, joins Highway 183,  and continues south to Hobart where it then continues it’s westward until finally, at Madge, exiting Oklahoma and entering the Texas Panhandle.  I’ll be turning east at the junction with 183.  This is eleven miles of highway that wavers not to the right, nor to the left, but bears due east to Gotebo, Oklahoma, where it intersects with Hwy. 54:  I passed through Gotebo headed north earlier in the day.  This time I’ll enter from the west and turn south at the intersection.  It’s eleven miles of road I’ve never traveled before.  The sun is setting behind me as I turn east with wide-open eyes hoping to see everything and trying to miss nothing, for it’s all brand new to me.

Several miles pass without anything really standing out.  The country is beautifully mystic in the warm orange glow of the setting sun.  The sky is cloudless but the atmosphere is painted with varying hues of orange, blue, and pink.  I immediately saw it as the flat road beneath me began to descend leaving bluffs on both my left and right.  But there in front, just off the highway to the south it stood; the last rays of the setting sun shooting across the top of the bluff, illuminating it’s rust red roof like glowing red embers.  Even at first glance I can see this is no ordinary barn.  This is split level construction, taking advantage of the natural wash of the land with a stone retaining wall built to create the inside wall of the lower level.

It was only a half mile away and the sunlight hitting it directly would be gone in only a few minutes, but there are no shoulders on this highway so I can’t pull over.  I’m forced to drive all the way to the gate that provides access into the pasture and the barn itself.  Finally reaching the gate area, I pull off the highway and onto the protected shoulder parallel to the gate and protected from the surprisingly high number of vehicles traveling this road.  Rushed by the rapidly failing sunlight, I unpack my camera, attach the 70-200 G, grab my tripod, and head back up the highway via the bar ditch.  Soon into this trek I realize a few disappointing facts.  The arthritis in my knees won’t allow me to move at the pace I need to move and the light will be gone before I ever reach the point of perspective I want, anyway.  Recognizing that, I stop, set up my tripod, and take a few desperation shots knowing they are a distant second best.  I only take a few because the barn is so large, I’m not very far away, and the 70-200 G is not the lens I need from this position.  Disappointed, I gather up my tripod, lay it over my shoulder, and walk back to the car thankful for having the opportunity to see this grand old barn, a sweet fresh air, and beautiful sunset.

Back at the car, I prepare to put everything away, and have already detached the lens and placed it in the car, when I turn toward the barn and see this wonderful old barn from a totally different perspective.  Quickly I reach in my bag, grab the 16-80, attach it, and mount the camera on the tripod.  I rush to the gate and set up just outside but a close to the gate as I can get.  Even now it’s hard to put into words the moments that follow as I try to capture the light, the mood, the emotion, the barn.  The window is open for only a few brief minutes, but sometimes that’s enough.  This time was enough for me.  I am peaceful, open, and unrestrained like the landscape that surrounds me.  I take deep breaths, the air is cold but I’m warm inside.  The drive home will be better, now.

Pac Man

Recently, I was reading “Inner Game of Outdoor Photography”, by the late Galen Rowell, and something he wrote struck a strong chord with me.  In the chapter titled, “The Art of Fixing a Shadow”, he wrote that William Henry Fox Talbot, in 1839 while introducing his invention of photography, referred to it as the “art of fixing a shadow”.  Upon reading those words, everything all my knowledge about photography suddenly melted together in harmony.  Fixing the shadows is truly the art and essence of photography.  The great landscape photographers have always been and always will be putting forth great effort to resolve the issues between light and dark, the highlights and the shadows.  Rendering highlights into a pleasing picture is not difficult, ah, but making the shadows work, that’s the art.

This is what I find fascinating and rewarding about employing high dynamic range (HDR) techniques in my photographs.  This technique is one I have only recently began exploring, but now there are so many, “Aha”, moments I have become intoxicated with the possibilities.  For years I have studied and labored on efforts to solve the issue of correctly representing what I saw in both the highlights and the shadows.  Most of these efforts met with disappointment and even the ones I considered successful failed to fully satisfy.  HDR appears to be the answer with results that bring a great deal of satisfaction and peace with my efforts.

Enchanted Tower

It had already been a magical morning.  The magic began shortly after sunrise as I rounded the curve that bent back toward the southeast taking me to the dam on  Lake Rush in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge.  The scene took my breath as the scene unfolded in brilliant colors in shades of reds, yellows, and greens.  “Thank you, LORD!”, I spoke aloud, even though there was no one else around to hear them; just He and I.  I continued to thank him throughout the morning as he showed me wonderful and glorious beauty.  I knew I was rushing against ever rising sun and it’s changing light.  I knew the wind was coming, as well, and understood this window was fleeting.  A feeling of urgency arose within and I rushed to gather my  equipment, locate the perfect place to set up and then to think clearly enough to  manipulate the controls and settings to capture the image not only seen with my eyes but felt in my soul.  My biggest fear was that after two days already spent on the Refuge, the planning, the preparation, and now the presentation would be lost because of mistakes I’d make and points I wouldn’t consider.  To minimize all possibilites, I focused, not just the lens, but my total attention to the task at hand.

The next two hours were intense as I tried to capture as much as possible before the sun rose higher changing the angles of the light and chasing the enchantment away.  I moved frequently trying to stay ahead of the sun and time.  Each moved revealed something new requiring a changes in method and technique.  I was oblivious to everything around me and yet, hyper-aware of all my surroundings.  Finally, with a deep sigh, relaxation washed over me and I knew the window was closed and it was time to leave.  I left with no regrets.  But, I knew there was more left to the morning if only I could find it.  I knew there was more He could show me if I wanted to see.Lake Jed Johnson is less than a mile from Lake Rush.  I wasn’t real hopeful of finding a similar magic like what I was leaving, but something compelled me to turn onto the road leading there, anyway.  This was going to be a hike and the pain from arthritis in my knees and lower back that radiates through my buttocks and down each leg was going to be a  ever present.  I knew it would be made even more painful when I added my backpack of camera gear plus my tripod to my already overweight self.  I said a silent prayer knowing that many people go through pain and sometimes really good things come out of it.  With that in mind and the anticipation of sights waiting, I set out toward Jed Johnson Tower.

I knew this was going to be a painful trek.  It isn’t far from the parking lot to Jed Johnson Tower, maybe 1/2 mile, probably a little less; distance really doesn’t matter.  I stopped many times to let the pain in my knees and buttocks ease off.  I strained to see something unique and colorful, but there really wasn’t anything, at all.  I kept pushing onward and upward as the trail begins to climb more steeply toward the Tower.  The last 20 yards of the trail is really steep and I stopped twice before reaching the summit on which the rock and mortar tower is built.  The view from the top came as no surprise.  I really wasn’t expecting any spectacular scenes.  I’ve been to the Tower many times before and my mind’s eye could not envision there being anything more than what I found; a scene almost remarkable for being so ordinary.  I rid myself of the burdensome equipment I lugged to the top and lingered for 30 minutes.  I wasn’t looking forward to taking to the trail again, even though it would be mostly downhill.  Descending is every bit, if not more, painful on my knees as ascending.  Knowing I couldn’t spend the rest of my days up there, I prepared myself mentally, strapped on my pack, secured my camera, hoisted my tripod, picked up my walking stick and took to the trail.

Most of the return hike would have the sun at my back.  I knew the sunlight shining through the leaves would produce more vibrant colors than light reflecting off of them.  As I went, I would look at the trail ahead but envision what it would look like if I turned around and looked where I’d been.  I would try to journey as far as my macho toughness would allow, which wasn’t very far, then I’d turn back to see what visions were waiting behind.  At first there wasn’t anything spectacular but later on the trail took a turn and changing direction only a little, changed the angle of the sunlight filtering through the leaves and suddenly the colors became vibrant.  I had no other choice but to stop, set up my tripod and attempt to capture the scene.  After feeling I had done all I could do, I’d return to the hike, travel a bit farther, stop to look behind and repeat the process again.  It was really great and I was enjoying every bit of it.  However, the trail turned again and the vibrant scenes turned flat.  At this point, I settled myself in for the remaining half of the hike.  The pain had become exhausting, and was now intense from the bottoms of my feet, deeply aching up through my legs, intensifying at the knees, continuing on through my buttocks and into my lower back.  Both shoulder joints, which normally aren’t too bothersome, were reminding me of their arthritic complaints, lest I forget.  How could I.  I was carrying a tripod atop one and had my camera hanging from the other.  Each step around a rock was causing pain in my hips, and every step down, pain in my knees.  Movement, in general, was a real pain in “buttocks”!    I had to begin setting small goals for myself; “I won’t stop until I reach that tree, or that rock, or that bend in the trail!”  This was working even though the stops were frequent and distances covered short.  I was getting nowhere fast, but then I was not in any hurry to get anywhere.  The Sooners weren’t playing until 2:30 PM, and I had plenty of time to be home by then.  Trudging along toward the northern bank of Lake Jed Johnson I saw a row of boulders put there by the refuge as some sort of blockade.  They were aligned along the shore, under the deep shade of trees, and just the right height to sit on comfortably.  They were my next goal; I was not going to stop until I reached them!

By the time I reached the boulders, I was realizing this last goal was rather lofty.  My legs were barely shuffling along.  My right foot was turning in with every step, and I was, oh so wanting to sit down.  As I shuffled past the first few boulders, because they were not flat topped enough for comfort, I spied the perfect one.  It was just the right height, very flat across the top, and in complete shade.  The only caveat were the two prickly pear pads sitting where I wanted to sit.  Someone, had placed them there causing me to wonder, “Why?”  I actually had the impression they were there to “mark the spot”.  I flicked the off to the side with my walking stick promptly sat down facing the lake; I didn’t even bother to remove my backpack.  Oh my gosh, it felt so good to sit down; something I hadn’t done since leaving the plateau on which Jed Johnson Tower stood.  For several moments, with eyes closed, I let my body settle, my tense muscles relax from the recent strain, feeling the cool refreshing breeze from the lake.  After what seemed like several minutes, I lifted my head, opened  my eyes, and once again whispered aloud, “Thank you, Jesus!”  The scene before me was nothing short of enchanting!  All the weariness and pain was gone!  I didn’t move.  I didn’t even stand.  I picked up my tripod and set it up in front of my where I sat.  I carefully leveled it, placed my camera atop, and began taking pictures, one of which is featured at the beginning of this story.  I don’t know if the image accurately presents the scene I saw at that time, or not. I am unable to look at it without the  feelings and emotions of that moment, as well.  I hope you enjoy it, and you can somehow appreciate message that goes along with it.  Sometimes, what is revealed at the end of a painful journey makes the trip worthwhile.  I still believe that this entire morning was orchestrated especially for me by Someone who loves me dearly!  “Thank you, Jesus!”