The Dreaming Tree

When I first visited Cypress Lake I fell in love and I knew I'd come back. Actually, I knew I'd return for one particular image but it took a few years. This is a recurring pattern for me, especially regarding locations I shot early in my career. Looking back on old images with fresh eyes, the ideas of what could have been start flooding in, and burrow under my skin, itching.

A combination of four images, I had to individually light these trees and hammock. Such is the price of working solo.

As a child sees a covert fortress in a pile of couch cushions, I saw days of entertainment in this twisted wooden jungle gym. So, when the time was right, I called up my good friend Joe Guthrie and told him we'd be sleeping in trees for the weekend, again.

In classic form, we didn't get out on the water until well after dark. With his dog Wallace in tow, Joe paddleboarded while I stuck to my trusty kayak. Reaching the shoreline, the moon was on the rise and everything turned to magic. 

The hierarchy of the species, egrets roost closest to the water while the vultures and anhingas stayed towards the tops of the trees. This 30-second exposure was made possible by my 10-foot tripod that spared only a foot above the waterline. The trees were illuminated by the moon.

Joe looks for a place to camp amongst the cypress trees.

The first night, I didn't get any sleep. I was fired up exploring the shoreline and making long exposures. The moon was so bright I didn't even bother using a headlamp. Weaving in and out of the cypress trees, floating on a mirror of stars, I couldn't have been happier. Around 3:00am I set up my hammock and began playing around with different compositions. Everything takes much longer with night photography, especially when you throw people into the mix. To make this image, I had to set up my tripod, then set an intervelometer to expose an image every 30 seconds. This gave me time to paddle to the hammock, light it up, and try again, and again, and again to make sure I got one usable image. I'm pretty sure you need to be some kind of insane to go through this process at this hour, but I was so drunk on insomnia and delirium that it felt like a good idea. The glow of a nearby city gave a soft gradation to the sky, but at this point the moon was so high that the stars were only a faint glitter. I knew I was onto something, but it wasn't the image I had in envisioned. I made photos all night, cracked out on adrenaline, and before I knew it, dawn was fast approaching.

Predawn was spectacular, and it came faster than I anticipated. I had to act quickly to take down my hammock and get the right composition, slowly moving my massive tripod through the water. The clouds couldn't have performed a better symphony of color and form, radiating from the leafless branches of the tree. Mustering the last of my energy reserves I paddled out further and made a few more compositions along the shoreline of the other gnarled cypress trees in morning light.

By this time, my body started to shut down. The soft winter sun and crisp breeze flapped through my hammock, calling me to bed. It was 10:00am and I slept hard for an hour.

My digs for the night. Photo by Joe Guthrie

Joe gets his fill of water, filtered from the Lake. Packing these bladder bags instead of gallon jugs helps cut down on a lot of extra gear.
All you have to do is pretend you're drinking unsweetened tea. 

When I woke up, I began scouting a better composition for my ideal hammock image. After eating some warm mac n cheese and tuna (my favorite camping food), Joe and I paddled out to prepare for sunset light. We were not disappointed.

Once the sun set, we gathered up our gear and headed back to camp. A waning gibbous moon, I knew I had a couple of hours until the sky was dark enough for stars and moonrise. Still, I didn't want to be caught unprepared when the good light presented itself. Just like sunrise or sunset, during long exposures, a rising moon casts a warm and low angle light, exaggerating contrast and texture. Just as planned, the stars put on their show, the moon was right on time, and Joe crawled up into the hammock while I worked the camera.

After five years of living under my skin, The Dreaming Tree was finally born. That night Joe and I stayed up planning the next adventure, thinking of ways we could top this trip. I slept like a baby.

In the morning, I fought every urge in my body to get up before dawn and sit in my wet kayak. I knew it could be another year or two before I came back, so I wanted to squeeze every little drop out of this place. It paid off, because when the sun reached the trees, it was one of the best light shows I've seen. All in all, I'd say the two nights and two days on the Lake were pretty productive. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Swamp to Sea - South Carolina

In a perfect world, I would be out on a new expedition every other week. The thrill of packing up everything you need and living out of a kayak for four days is as liberating and empowering as walking around the house you bought, naked. When I start brainstorming these trips, it's always fueled by some type of fanciful photo I want to make and then the rest of the trek becomes a blank canvas to be filled with adventure and discovery.

My friends Van Whitehead, the deputy director of Upstate Forever, Mark Musselman the property manager of Francis Beidler Forest, and Joe Guthrie from the Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition all thought this was a pretty good idea after looking at maps back in May. A bold one, though, it looked doable—or at least worth a try. It would be a maze of braided cypress sloughs and lots of backwoods portages over fallen trees through Four Holes Swamp for roughly 80 miles until we reached the ocean at Edisto.

As with all adventures, nothing goes as planned, and that's alright with me. The purpose was to follow the blackwater through Four Holes Swamp, down the watershed and natural corridors to the Edisto River (the largest free-flowing blackwater river in the US), and out to the ocean. South Carolina's state director of Audubon, Norman Brunswig, along with many other organizations has been protecting properties along this watershed for over 40 years, including the largest stand of virgin cypress and tupelo swamp in the world. Navigating some of these areas on a four-day trek would hopefully lend better insight as to the great accomplishments that have been made and also what more can be done.

Joe Guthrie pauses for a breather while hauling his kayak and gear .75 miles to the put-in. Photo © Mac Stone

Van Whitehead hauls his canoe to the water through the dark of night at 11:00PM. Off to a great start. Photo © Mac Stone

Our first night in the swamp, Joe and I set up hammocks between tupelo trees. Unfortunately we didn't get to sleep until 5:00am, running on the adrenaline of the adventure to come and the photos being made. Photo © Mac Stone

The only good light we had all trip was the first morning, but it did not disappoint. The cypress trees and braided channels of Four Holes Swamp are without match. Photo © Mac Stone

Of course we found many snakes, we lost count after 30. This water mocassin posed nicely for a few minutes. Photo © Mac Stone

Photo © Mac Stone

The first day was the hardest, with a long slog through the swamp, portaging our gear nearly a mile to avoid encroaching on private property. Photo © Mac Stone

Mark Musselman navigating skinny water in Four Holes Swamp. Photo © Mac Stone

In the remote sections of the swamp, we saw lots of wildlife. Photo © Mac Stone

Photo © Mac Stone

When we started approaching the Edisto River, we started to see clear signs of civilization and the difference between old growth swamp and timber lands. Photo © Mac Stone

Along the Edisto River the fall colors started to show on the high bluffs. Photo © Mac Stone

On the third night I was surprised when my hammock ripped open and birthed me out the bottom. Fortunately, I was over dry land this time: a very rare and fortunate thing. Photo by Joe Guthrie

Of course we couldn't resist the rope swings. Photo © Mac Stone

Photo © Mac Stone

Photo © Mac Stone

Our last night on the trip, we camped on a small dry spit of land and built a small fire. Drying clothes and making PB&Js, we were dreading the 6:00am departure to beat the tides. Photo © Mac Stone

Van checks his gear, readying for the arduous paddle to the coast. Photo © Mac Stone

Photo © Mac Stone

Beaten and battered, we finish strong and then have to find a way of cramming all of this gear and four people into my truck. From left: Mac Stone, Van Whitehead, Joe Guthrie, Mark Musselman. Photo © Mac Stone

Swimming with Alligators... again

I'm haunted by photo shoots that could have been a little bit better if the light was brighter, the conditions different, or subjects more cooperative. I think this is the case with any artist. We are simply never satisfied. Maybe it should have been different after I climbed out of the alligator pool with Chris Gillette and Ashley Lawrence still owning all of my digits, but I knew there were better images to be made.

So, I went back for round two. This time, the water was warmer and gin clear; and a fresh crop of alligators inhabited the pool. I still used the same rig to shoot Chris handling the alligators but without the backscatter of debris and a better understanding of what I was going for, it went without a hitch.

Here are the results. These were all shot with an Aquatica housing, 15mm Sigma fisheye, and two Sea and Sea strobes while on SCUBA.

Swimming with Alligators

Ok, before you start trying to nominate me for the Darwin Awards, read the post.

Meet Chris Gillette. Chris is a professional gator wrestler living in Homestead, Florida. He performs weekly shows at Everglades Outpost Wildlife Rescue and the Everglades Alligator Farm to teach the public about crocodilian behavior and what to do should you ever find yourself in a situation like the one pictured above. You might recognize him from the television show Gator Boys, but I met Chris through our small circle of South Florida adventurers, and after seeing images of him handling alligators the gears started turning on how I might be able to meet him in his element and make a few images of my own. I just bought an underwater housing so it seemed like a perfect way to break in the new equipment. I envisioned a relatively tame shoot where he handled what he called his "big puppy dogs" and my end goal was to create a series of images that showed a more docile side to these feared reptiles. Of course, things don't always play out as you plan them. 

The bad news broke early as Chris let me know that his favorite alligator had recently passed away and instead, we would be working with freshly caught, aggressive nuisance alligators from Big Cypress National Preserve. Great. The good news, however, is that the water was cold, very cold, so they would likely be disinclined to act out. Luckily I brought my wet suit. His girlfriend, Ashley Lawrence who also handles alligators, was there to help spot and make sure nothing went wrong. Admittedly, I was feeling pretty cavalier, because here I had two of the most qualified handlers watching my back and making sure the shoot went smoothly. Plus, I had seen them in similar situations plenty of times so I was hungry to get in the water and start making images. Chris quickly put me in check, saying that I should be nervous and that it was a little unhealthy not to be. It could have been the water temperature, but as soon as I submerged and entered their world, I looked head-on at a 9-foot alligator and peed my wetsuit.

Gator belly - Homestead, FL - Photo © Mac Stone

Before we got in the water, though, Chris told me what to expect. Since these gators hadn't been handled before they would be unpredictable and would likely resist being grabbed or approached. In the event that a gator charged me, he cautioned that I sit perfectly still and just act like a rock. I'll be the first to say that it's one thing to envision yourself in that situation, and something altogether different to actually perform. I was on SCUBA so I didn't have to worry about continually coming to the surface for air. I sat on the bottom, like a rock, just as Chris suggested. But when he reached for the first gator and it wiggled free, it made a bee-line straight for me. I braced for impact and the gator's snout slammed into my shoulder and kept swimming, as if I weren't even there. I looked up and Chris was treading water, smiling, with two thumbs up.  

I've grown up with gators and have had my fair share of close calls in the wild, but in this moment I was really proud of myself. Once I hurdled that obstacle, the rest of the shoot went smoothly. In fact, they were so comfortable with me, that one of the large gators even found a nice resting spot between my legs while I photographed another.  

It was one of the most invigorating shoots I've done and it gave me a new appreciation for the work that Chris, Ashley, Everglades Outpost and the Everglades Alligator Farm do for the public. Normally, these nuisance alligators would be euthanized. These businesses give the gators a second chance and in turn help reeducate the masses that our reptilian neighbors are not blood-thirsty man-eaters. They are the freshwater equivalent to sharks: misunderstood and in need of some good PR.