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

Love for the Swamp

For those of you that missed it in the bookstores, BBC Wildlife Magazine did a 13-page feature portfolio on my work in America's Swamps. This was pretty exciting for me as a photographer, but especially significant from a wetland conservationist standpoint. We're finally getting swamps some positive PR!
The BBC staff are top notch. They're extremely thorough, inquisitive, and insightful; so when I was going back and forth with them about the layout and captions, it was a surprisingly painless process. The only complaint that they expressed was not having enough pages for the images I submitted. Can't get better feedback than that!

If you'd like to check out the actual portfolio complete with captions in PDF version: Click Here 

Or, you can find the online gallery of some of these photos here: America's Swamps

Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition

Me with Carlton on the morning of their departure from Florida Bay

I was there for the first day of the expedition when Carlton Ward Jr, Mallory Lykes Dimmit, Joe Guthrie, and Elam Stoltzfus set out on their 100 day/1,000 mile journey from Florida Bay to Okeefenokee Swamp. I remember feeling a palpable envy knowing that they would be crossing some of the most wild and scenic regions of Florida. The simple idea of traveling 1,000 miles by your own sweat and grit, without the aid of pavement, is a crazy one by most standards. But crazy ideas and groundbreaking efforts are usually what it takes to move mountains. And if Florida is going to provide a corridor stretching from the Everglades to Georgia for endangered wildlife like panthers and black bears, well, some mountains will need to be moved.

Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition map

I planned on meeting up with Carlton and the crew along several stops of their journey but never found the time as I was wrapped up in my own adventures. When Carlton called me to come and join them on the final stretch through Okeefenokee Swamp, no matter what it was going to take, I knew I had to go. Having photographed his group for 100 days, it turned out no one had really taken images of Carlton, so it was my job to capture the essence of the group as a whole as well as its fearless leader. I felt a little like Nick Nichols on expedition with Mike Fay in the African Congo Megatransect, a story that I drooled over when it was published in National Geographic in 2001.

The headlights of my truck offer a quick photo opportunity before taking off on the Suwannee River

When I pulled into Griffis Fish Camp, it was 11:30 PM. There was no moon, just stars and a cacophony of frogs and toads. I had no idea where the expedition team was, just a general sense that they'd be South on the Suwanee River somewhere, camped along the banks. Carlton said he would leave a fire burning but that was at 9:00. I considered camping at the fish camp but knew that I needed early light photos of the group so I bit the bullet and paddled out into the darkness. My headlamp ruined my night vision so I turned it off and hoped for the best. Of all the things that could have scared me, the worst thing on the water at night were the wood ducks. It seemed they waited until they were right next to my boat when they would explode off the water. I felt so foolish when my nerves calmed. Finally, I pulled my kayak into camp around 1:30 and set up a tent, without so much of a stir from the team.

I woke the next morning at 5:30 to ready my camera gear and head out on the river for first light with Carlton. Polar fog was settling on the water and made for some great images with the looming tupelo and cypress along the banks. Carlton and I paddled upstream while the rest of the crew prepared breakfast and packed their tents. Photo shoots like these are tough. Since I didn't have any time the day before to scout locations I had to work quickly to find compositions and opportunities where the light allowed. Luckily I was able to make a few frames before the fog lifted while gentle amber light still dappled the tops of the trees.

It's an awkward thing being the subject of a photo, especially if you're a photographer. All my friends will tell you the same thing as I constantly ask them to hold poses or look wantonly away from the lens. I think my girlfriend fears going out on hiking trips with me specifically for this reason. Carlton mused that he had never been in front of a camera so much as that morning with me. What can I say though? It was my job! I wasn't going to let embarrassment or a small thing like courtesy get in the way of my images, I mean, do you think  Nick Nichols would ever bashfully put away his camera with light like this? I don't think so.

As soon as the sun started heating up the water, the light became too harsh and we pushed back to the camp to make moves for our lunch break at Griffis Fish Camp. It wasn't until we were halfway there when Carlton told me we were actually stopping to meet up with Mike Fay, THE Mike Fay, who flew in from Washington to also join in on the last push of the expedition. (!!!!!!) Carlton had met Mike while photographing in Gabon and invited him to serve as the ultimate transect guru and guest speaker for their final arrival on Earth Day. If there's anyone on this planet who knows about major transects to protect land, Mike is the authority.

Carlton Ward gets horizontal for a frisbee

Joe Guthrie lays out for a disc on the Suwannee River

Mallory Dimmit dives for a frisbee

It didn't take long until we turned it into a frisbee battle, of course I'll only show you the one where I caught it...

While we waited for Mike at the fish camp, I ran to my truck and grabbed a frisbee and we took turns running full speed into the river for full-on layouts. Good ol Florida backwoods fun. It turns out I'm not the only one who thinks this is one of the most entertaining things in the world. Eventually Mike showed up, and like a bunch of crazed labradors, dripping wet and panting we collected ourselves and made our introductions. All I could manage to say was a fumbling, "Hi Mike, uhh.. I'm a huge fan ... umm I can't wait to take photos of you." Nothing says creepy quite like an overly sweaty, huffing, red-cheeked man with a camera. 

Carlton Ward and Mike Fay meet up on the Suwannee River to finish the last miles of the expedition together

But there we were, all paddling up the Suwannee River into Okeefenokee National Wildlife Refuge and I couldn't have been happier. Two of my conservation heroes on either side and a darkening sky with promises of thick heavy rain. If I were going to make this look like a hardcore expedition it couldn't be all sunshine and rainbows. Luckily I packed a large golf umbrella on my kayak specifically for shooting in these conditions and when the skies opened up, I was ready.

Carlton and Joe G. portage over a fallen log

Once the storm passed the Okeefenokee came alive. Prothonotary warblers echoed in the canopy and the lush swamp started closing in around the river. The Suwannee soon turned into a series of braided creeks and diffuse wetland. Trees had fallen across the water and we were forced to make a few precarious portages over the slippery logs.   This was all pretty standard procedure to Carlton and Joe, who had seen their fair share of obstacles along the trek. There's no such thing as an easy path along 1,000 miles of wilderness.

By the time we made it to our campsite, we were soaked to the bone. The rain picked up again and wouldn't relent. All my camera gear was wet and I wasn't looking forward to spending the night in a puddle. Not that I had much choice though and plus, I wouldn't dare voice any complaint, not while in the presence of Mike who battled nearly every single discomfort known to man on his various transects. The chances for a fire were grim, until Joe found his axe and started to chop at burnt pine revealing lighter'd (lighter wood). We used my jet boil to get the coals going and soon enough we were warming up around a roaring campfire. Sweet, sweet, bliss.

Joe Davenport warms himself by the fire

Around the fire we talked shop all night, discussing gear preferences, cameras, and favorite whiskeys. It didn't take us long to finish the Maker's Mark I brought either, giving us that extra warmth before heading to bed. I'm sure for Carlton, Joe, Elam, and Mallory, they feared the fading light of the campfire as much as they welcomed their warm sleeping bags. With the dawn would come an end, a bittersweet finale to an incredible journey. For a crew that's been shoulder to shoulder for 100 days braving some of Florida's wildest places I could see how the finish line might actually be a daunting thing.

From left, Mallory, Joe, Carlton, and Elam leave their campsite in Okeefenokee and make way for Steven Foster. 

Elam carries his bags to the boat

After packing up, the group solemnly made their way to the kayaks. With only a couple miles between them and their welcoming committee at Stephen Foster, they took their time enjoying breakfast and drinking coffee. By 10:00 AM they were on the water and heading for the final stretch. Once momentum picked up and paddles were put to water, the group moved with lifted spirits.

Alligators and warblers traversed the calm river and our kayaks cut through the mirrored landscape. By 12:00 we were at the mouth of the canal leading to Stephen Foster State Park and the rain let loose from the sky again. It was a fitting end; one last push through Florida's fickle weather to the crowds of media teams and adoring supporters.

Their arrival was well-received and people cheered as Elam, Mallory, Joe, and Carlton disembarked from their vessels. Wives, brothers, sisters, children, and daughters swarmed the expedition team with tears and warm embraces. After 100 days and 1000 miles, they finally made it home.