Turner River

The Turner River

Two places that I've been hearing about since I arrived in 2009 are the Dry Tortugas and the Turner River. While it's shameful that I still haven't made it to the islands off the coast of Florida, Turner River is a lesser-known, but equally beautiful area in Everglades National Park, just two hours from my doorstep. A group of ten friends got together this weekend to paddle the river on a ten-mile one-way trek out to Chokoloskee. I knew it was going to be a promising trip when a one-eyed, nine-foot alligator was guarding the entrance.

Whitewater rushes out of a mangrove forest along the banks of the Turner River

For the first three miles we floated through freshwater mangrove tunnels. Our paddles were nearly useless so we grabbed the limbs like monkey bars and swung our way until reaching open water. To my amazement, we came upon a ripping tributary that was gushing whitewater over a mangrove bank. I have never seen whitewater in the Everglades, frankly because there just isn't enough relief to create riffles. I didn't have enough time to go find the source, but it's very possible it was spring-fed.

Garl Harrold and Linda Lorenz happy to arrive at Chokoloskee

After four hours on the water, we made it to Chokoloskee, just barely out-running a storm as the sun was setting. I'd love to go back to explore those mangrove tunnels a little more with my camera. There are certainly more photos to be had in such a primeval place. Until then, I'll just enjoy having spent a wonderful afternoon with my friends in another one of Florida's hidden gems.

Audubon Aventure Sunday crew

The Magic Hour

A red mangrove 10 minutes before sunset

So if dawn is the blue hour, then the moments before and after dusk are what photographers call the magic hour. Within the last minutes before and after the sun drops below the horizon, the color palette shifts creating dramatic differences in tones and hues, completely altering the mood of the landscape. While out paddling with a good friend and photographer Paul Marcellini, I got a first hand look at how Florida Bay changes in a matter of minutes.  Now the hard part is just figuring out which one I like more.

The same red mangrove 10 minutes after sunset

Power Struggle

"Power Struggle" - South Park Key in Florida Bay

In the still of a mauve morning, the full moon sets over the Bob Keys and a storm lingers in the west. During the blue hour of twilight, a dramatic tension fills the air as night reluctantly succumbs to the day. "Power Struggle," is the newest image to go into my Florida Bay portfolio and I can't wait to see it in a bigger format!

Frazier Springfield works a mangrove cluster at South Park

I made this image while a couple photographer friends were visiting for the weekend. Wanting a chance to shoot early morning light with mangroves and a setting full moon we boated out at 5:00 AM from Islamorada to get to our location. Since it was pitch black, finding the banks and cuts was a little difficult but we managed to make it to South Park Key at just the right time. I felt so lucky to have a full moon, lightning, morning light, and mangroves in the same image.

The predawn ambiance was spectacular and we treaded lightly through the flats spooking lemon sharks that trolled the shallow water. It was an easy place to feel overwhelmed since there are simply thousands of potential images but recently I've been trying to lock in on my spot and work it until it sings. It certainly paid off this time.

Mangroves

I've been obsessing over mangroves lately. They are the unyielding force of the Everglades. Each of them with a unique footprint and a character all their own. Constantly bending and stretching to reach fertile ground, they posses a certain ingenuity, an intelligence, even.

Mangroves are tricky subjects to photograph, though. Their waxy leaves reflect harsh light in the afternoons and around sunset, even the slightest wind will move their outstretched branches during long exposures.

I've found that the best time to see them is in the mornings because the wind is much calmer. For the most distinct subjects, however, I have to boat out into Florida Bay an hour before sunrise to catch the first light. Luckily, they're right on my way to work.   

One of the more bizarre landscapes I've seen was right at the end of the dry season at the top of Florida Bay. For a week, North winds pushed water into the mangrove swamps along Taylor River. The ground, still parched from the months without water, stayed defiantly cracked and broken regardless of the water that now filled the area. I'd been to this place dozens of times and never seen it this way.

 

My next goal is to get underwater and see what they look like from below. Stay tuned...

"Swept Away"

Swept Away - Florida Bay

Two weeks ago I made a new image in Florida Bay that will become part of my print portfolio. I was having trouble coming up with a title that resonated with me personally and spoke to the transient nature of this wonderful place so I called on some help. After posting the image to Facebook, I asked all my friends for their ideas to give this photo the last creative "umph" that it needed. In exchange for their brilliant nuggets, I offered an 8 x 12 matted and signed print to the winner. I didn't expect too many people to respond, but after three days, there were 100 comments with all kinds of inspiring input. I was so overwhelmed by everyone's enthusiasm. I had a tough time deciding which one would define this new image, but I kept coming back to one in particular. Caitlin Sandersen Friedman, and old friend from high school came up with the winning title "Swept Away." I love it when art becomes collaborative!  

The new print will now be available at my running gallery in The Great Frame Up in Gainesville, Florida or online through my website MacStonePhoto.com. If you'd like to get in on the next title contest, find me on Facebook!

Rain?

The parched mangrove flats region of Taylor River in Everglades National Park

While South Florida waits for the summer rains, I've been enjoying heading out to my favorite backcountry locations to see how the prolonged dry season continues to reshape the landscape. Places that I could normally access by motorboat have now limited me to using a push pole or kayak.

Shallow sediment flats of Florida Bay along the Bob Keys

On Florida Bay, even the tides seem to become a little more drastic as the river of grass has turned into a mere trickle, limiting the supply of freshwater expelled into the bay.

Rolling rain clouds over Florida Bay off Flamingo point in Everglades National Park

Still, big thunderheads and towering cumulous clouds develop in the early mornings and late afternoons. And just when we think we're getting the first big rains, after only a few hours the storm passes and we're left with just the afterthought of a summer that never seems to come.