Making the Most of a Not So Super Moon

Last Sunday I travelled to the Maine Coast to photograph our latest Super Moon.  Things didn’t come out as I had hoped, but nature photography is all about getting the most from what nature offers.

Super Moons

Simply speaking, a Super Moon is defined as a full moon that occurs at its closest approach in its elliptical orbit around the earth,

Mount Monadnock Super Moon, November 2016

at “perigee”.  In that position the moon is about 12-14% larger in the sky and about 30% brighter than it appears when farthest away, at “apogee”.   When magnified through our photographic lenses, Super Moons are not dramatically more visually exciting than any other “ordinary” full moon. Every time they occur, however, they draw attention to the beauty of our fully illuminated partner, and I usually get caught up in all the hysteria.  This last weekend the Super Moon struck once again.

Super Moons Past

Old Saybrook Breakwater Light

I have been lucky in my previous attempts to capture the full moon at perigee.  In March of 2011 and November of 2016, I was blessed with clear skies to catch the moon rising above Mount Monadnock.  In September 2015 the moon rose into the clouds over the Old Saybrook Lighthouse, but before it faded, I was able to grab one of my favorite moonrise shots.  Each time, these images required travel and careful planning to be in the right place at the right time, but I was always rewarded with amazing shots. That was not the case this weekend.  

The Thrill of the Chase

I must remind myself that the excitement of discovering a spectacular image comes, in part, from the fact that often these explorations fail.  Without the disappointments, the successes would be less triumphant.  We study and plan, but in the end, being a landscape photographer means we often succeed or fail on the whim of nature.

Super Moon over Nubble Lighthouse

Last week I gave a talk to the South Shore Camera Club in Quincy Massachusetts.  I discussed various evening photography

Nubble Light Sunset

topics including Holiday Lighting, rising moons and even rainbows.  It was a wonderful group, with great enthusiasm and interesting questions.  They were especially excited about a shoot they had planned for Saturday to capture the Christmas Lights on Nubble Lighthouse in York Maine.   I look forward to seeing their images, but it also gave me the idea to go to the coast to capture the full moon rising over Nubble Light.  Sadly for the club, on Saturday evening, the skies were cloudy, but I was hoping for better luck on Sunday.

I pulled out my Photographer’s Ephemeris and found a spot on Long Beach, south of Nubble Light, that would give me a good angle on the rising moon from about 1.7 miles away.  I settled in on

View to Nubble Light, Photographer's Ephemeris

the beach about 30 minutes before the 4:38pm moonrise.  Happily, the winds were calm and the temperature only in the 40s, but I was a bit concerned.   Several years ago, I might have been among very few on the beach to get the long view of the moonrise.  Most would have been clustered close to light, but, since the Ephemeris has become popular, many serious photographers know exactly where to stand for the best shot.  The scary thing was that most of the other photographers on

Nubble's Lights

the beach, about 30 of them, were gathered about 200 yards further south of my preferred location.  Was I in the wrong spot?  I found some comfort after being joined by two other mutinous photographers, both from the Greater BostonNight Photographers.  After double checking the Ephemeris, and also the Photopils App, we remained convinced that we had it right.  Still, we mentally calculated how long it would take for us to sprint down the beach to join the crowd

Moon's Last Flicker

We had a nice angle on the elaborate lighting on Nubble Lighthouse, but we also saw the clouds behind the light.  We waited for the time of moonrise and hoped that there would be a magical break in the clouds to allow the spectacular moon to break through, but this time my Super Moon luck ran out.  There was a brief and tauntingly beautiful glimpse of the fire red moon screened by the low clouds.  It was just enough to tell us that we were in the right spot to see the moon skim over the lighthouse, and then it was swallowed by the clouds.  The moon only reappeared in all its “Super” glory much later and high in the pitch-black evening sky.

Total failure?
Somehow, I convinced Susan to join me on this futile expedition.  She was concerned about letting me drive the 5-6 hours by myself, especially on the long dark trip home.  But was our trip a total failure.  I believe one of the greatest challenges for photographers is when we must make the most out of bad conditions.  

At the very least Sue and I had a long and largely uninterrupted time to talk.  Something which is quite rare these days.  What to get the kids for Christmas, whether we will escape from winter for a trip to New Orleans and most importantly, when will we finally get a dog! 

But I did have a bunch of camera equipment with me, so I had to shoot whatever nature left for me to see.

A Sliver of Moon

Shrouded Rise

First, we did see a momentary sliver of moon as it first peaked above the horizon.  It was not yet in the perfect location over the lighthouse, and it was screened by clouds.  It only lasted about a minute, but I was able to capture just one image that showed parts of the fire-red disk.  When I zoomed in, the reflected sunset light made the moon appear like sunrise, with the house and the people on the rocks providing a nice sense of scale.  And then it was gone.

On Cape Neddick
By watching the moonrise from the beach, I knew that I would miss shooting the lighthouse decorations while the island was still bathed in the beautiful twilight “Blue Hour”, but I still wanted to shoot the lights.  After we dealt with a dead car battery on the shore road (thank you AAA), we headed up to the crowded parking lot across from Nubble Island.  I was surprised that, from behind the clouds, the bright super moon created its own “Blue Hour” to soften the harsh contrasts that might have been created by the bare holiday lights.  I grabbed a few shots with the clouds skittering across the moon.  Then, in response to Susan’s good natured insistence, we headed back toward home, with dinner on the way.

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The Wreaths of South Street

On our way to the shore we stopped for breakfast in Concord New Hampshire.  Tuckers is a popular place for Sunday brunch, but we had to wait 45 minutes for a table.  While we waited for our little LED device to ring us back to the restaurant, we took a walk down South Street toward the center of town.  It was a great chance to focus on the variety of holiday door decorations. 




It was a great foretaste of the Christmas season as well as one rotting reminder of the Halloween past. We timed the walk perfectly, getting back just in time for a lovely breakfast, then it was on to the cloudy coast.























An Old Friend and a New Building

Of course, a trip to the coast is never just about photography.  On our way, we stopped in Portsmouth to pick up some Christmas gifts. 

After I had scouted my location for the moonrise, we visited with

Michelle,  Seacoastonline.com

our dear friend Michele.   She is the Executive Director of the York Community Services Association and just last weekend celebrated the grand opening of their wonderful new facility.  The non-profit association provides programs to assist low income individuals and families living in York, and also runs a thrift shop and food pantry to help feed people in need.  Susan and I have loved knowing Michele for years and her dynamic personality is a perfect fit for her community service organization. 
It was a long and busy Sunday with some disappointment.  Overall a good day with a reminder that, in photography, if everything always went perfectly, it would not be nearly as exciting when the magic happens. 

Jeffrey Newcomer

Partridgebrookreflections.com

603-363-8338

Magical Monhegan Island

Black Head from White Head Cliff

This week I finally got back out to Magical Monhegan.  Monhegan is a small island 12 nautical miles out from the coast and a world away from our 21^st century lives.  The island is just 1.75 miles long and .75 miles wide with much of the “development” clustered around the harbor on the east side.  The single dock hosts ferries from Port Clyde, New Harbor and Boothbay, and is protected by the mostly uninhabited rocky island of Manana.  Monhegan has artist galleries, a few guest houses and a couple of seasonal hotels that have surprising good food, but it is the island’s quiet solitude which is its essential feature.  The western side is undeveloped and has tall rocky cliffs facing out to the restless Atlantic rollers.  It is reached only through a system of meandering foot paths. It is a great place for painters, birders, poets and, of course, photographers.  

Misty Manana Island lies across from Monhegan's Harbor

I first visited Monhegan about seven years ago.  It was an all to brief day trip as part of a workshop through Maine Media.  I had enough time to run from the boat across to one spot on the western cliffs and then back to see the lighthouse.  One of the island’s best features is the chance to relax and focus on your art, but that couldn’t be done in one hectic afternoon.  I wanted to go back at least for a week, but an agreement for two days was the most I could get from Susan.  I took the deal!

Angry Passage to Monhegan

Window on Port Clyde

After exploration of the classic Maine fishing village of Port Clyde, we took the ferry for the hour long trip to the island.  The protection of Monhegan’s harbor was welcome after a rough voyage.  We knew that the weather was going to be marginal for our two days so, after quickly settling into our room at the John Sterling House, we ran out to take advantage of the decent conditions for a hike to the cliffs on the western side of the island.  

White Head

The rocky shore is classic Maine, and we worked our way south from Burnt Head to Lobster Cove over irregular terrain.   The Cliff trail is a spectacular combination of dramatic sheer cliffs and paths cut through lovely wild autumn vegetation.  This time of year the Asters are especially thick and colorful.   













 
Toward the southern end of the island, Lobster Cove features the rusting wreck of the “Sheridan”.  On a fogy night in 1948 this 100-foot ocean-going tug lost its way and fetched up on the rocks.  Most of the islands many wooden wrecks deteriorated quickly, but this iron vessel has remained a reminder of the unforgiving character of the northern Atlantic. 

Wreck of the Sheridan

Monhegan Lighthouse

Keeper's Window

Monhegan’s rocky shore represents a substantial threat to navigation and much has been done to warn passing ships.  Most notable is the Monhegan Lighthouse.  The present brick structure was built in 1850 and is located at the island’s highest point.  It is 47 feet tall and is the second highest lighthouse in the state of Maine.  The lighthouse was automated in 1959 and its surrounding structures are now home to a small but well-arranged museum, covering the natural and social history of the island.

Harbor Inn

Monhegan is definitely a world apart but, at least in season, it is definitely not an isolated wasteland. Our room was nicely appointed and offered a view to the busy little harbor.  Sleeping was wonderful with the fresh sea air and the gentle sounds of the waves lapping on the rocks.  Each night we enjoyed excellent meals at the nearby Harbor Inn and after dinner settled into rockers on the inn’s porch, overlooking harbor and at least a sliver of sunset color.

 

Filtered Sunset

Our second full day was marked by intermittent light showers.  I’m a photographer, so I love bad weather, but anticipating downpours, we kept closer to home.  We explored the village and the lighthouse museum.  The sunset was filtered by clouds bathing the harbor in a magical pink glow, as the last light faded.

Misty Cliffs and Fairy Villages

Fairy Cottage

The next day dawned clear but with a dense fog.  I love fog and, before our return boat at noon, we managed another hike to the western cliffs.  We wandered through the Cathedral Woods which has an appearance reminiscent of the dense rain forests of the Pacific Northwest.  Hidden in a few of its glades are villages of “Fairy Houses”, which appear to have magically appeared.   We made our way to White Head which offers a view to the cliffs of Black Head located near the northern end of the island.

Marshall Point Blooms

 Marshall Point Light
 Our return trip to the mainland was foggy and uneventful.  Ending up at Port Clyde, I had to make a quick stop at nearby Marshall Point Lighthouse.  The harsh mid-day light was a problem but I have enjoyed visits to the lighthouse in much nicer conditions.  This time I focused on the flowers around the keeper’s house and then surrendered to Susan’s insistence that we get on the road for the long drive home.

Monhegan is a uniquely magical part of the Maine coast.  It is definitely worth a trip.  I will definitely be back.  I would love to settle in for a relaxing week or two, but until Susan is ready to escape to write her great American novel, I may have trouble getting her to dessert civilization for that long.  In the meantime, I have work to do as I wade through the 700 images from this visit.  Perhaps more pictures next week, but autumn is coming! and I have to prepare for my Fall Foliage Workshop coming up on October 14-16^th.

I will place images of Monhegan as I get to them in a gallery on my web site.

The Rye Beach "Weekend", 2015

Couldn't Quite Get it in the Lens

 
One of our summer traditions is the annual Rye Beach Weekend. Every July we spend a couple of days on the coast visiting our friends Tom and Paula, who rent a rustic cottage on the New Hampshire shore. A nice thing about retirement is that the Rye Beach Weekend no longer needs to be scheduled during a crowded Saturday and Sunday.  This year we were able to visit on a relaxed Sunday through Tuesday.  As always, it was a chance to roll my toes in the sand, engage in leisurely chatting and of course consume too much good food. It was also a treasured opportunity to get a dose of sea coast photography. 


Pick Your Lighthouse

Morning Catch, Whaleback Light 2012

Year to year my Atlantic shore subjects vary, largely dependent on the weather, but, being on the east coast, sunrises are always a major attraction. Over the last couple of years I focused on the rising sun behind Whaleback Light in Portsmouth Harbor. As outlined in previous blogs, I have enjoyed variable levels of success from my early morning adventures to Odiorne State Park, attempting to capture the dawn glow from just the right angle. This year I decided to look for other sunrise scenes and ended up with a different lighthouse.



Portland Harbor Light

Pinned

As always, my first step was to explore my options from within the Photographers Ephemeris. I went to the appropriate dates and then moved my location pin to try to find places where the rising sun would be in an attractive location. I have always found the Portland Harbor Lighthouse difficult to approach, being isolated within the Coast Guard Station, but I discovered that the sun could be seen to rise directly behind the light from a spot along the shore to the southeast.


Two Ungodly Early Mornings
 I had two mornings to try for the shot and set my alarm for 4:30am. The sunrise was at about 5:20am, but, on that first morning, the best show came as the predawn light set the clouds on fire. Sadly I took the wrong turn and ended up on the beach about thirty seconds too late and totally missed the fleeting spectacle. I was frustrated and annoyed with myself for not exploring the location the night before. I was able to catch a couple of images of the light peeking through the clouds, but making things infinitely worse was the fact that another photographer was on site and was only too happy to show me the amazing light that I had barely missed. A lovely guy, and I wanted to strangle him. 

Predawn Glow Portsmouth Harbor Light

The next morning I was determined to give the spot another try. This time I set the clock for 4am and reached the location in plenty
of time. The sky was mostly clear without the nice layer of clouds from the day before, but I was able to capture the fiery predawn glow along the shore. I hoped to catch the sun at the moment that it shined directly through the lens of the lighthouse, but as I followed its ascent, and slowly moving to the west, I ran into the fence which guarded the perimeter of the Coast Guard Station. With signs promising incarceration, death or both, I decided not to try sneaking around the obstacle and had to settle for capturing the brilliant orb as it nudged the top of the light. Given my distance

Predawn Glow

from the lighthouse, I was able to use my 400mm telephoto lens to get closer and to magnify the appearance of the of the sun. At that hour, lobster boats were regularly heading out to sea and I was fortunate to catch one at just the right time. As the sun rose higher it was time to turn my back and look for subjects illuminated by the rosy early light and I couldn't get away without at least one picture of Whaleback against that remarkable sky.

Tidal Washed

Dawn Light

Whaleback Glow, Portsmouth Harbor

Along the Beach

Ring Billed Gull

The other major attraction of the Rye Beach visit is the opportunity to explore the interface between sand and surf. The beach is a popular spot for leisurely strollers, but on this foggy morning that traffic was manageable and it seemed that the sea gulls were desensitized to the presence of humans. I had hoped to catch a few gulls during take-off, but despite my persistant approaches I seemed only able to get them to waddle away.


Flotsam and Jetsam

Flotsam, Jetsam or ?

As I stroll the beach, I am always looking for interesting flotsam and jetsam to photograph and this year I found my share. Thanks to Wikipedia I now know the difference between flotsam and jetsam. As it turns out they both refer to items lost from a ship in distress. Flotsam is debris inadvertently lost, while jetsam refers to items that have been intentionally "jett"isoned, often in an attempt to lighten ship. The definitions may seem arbitrary, but they have legal implications, since flotsam can be claimed by the original owner, while jetsam can be salvaged by anyone. Of course on the beach, it is hard to tell the difference and I have no idea where an escaped lobster buoy falls on this continuum. But it is all fair game for photography. 





You must agree that my blog is a rich source of worthless information.

  

At low tide the southern end of the Rye Beach is a great place to explore the surf kissed rocks and quiet tidal pools. The trick is to avoid getting stranded by the incoming tide. The light was soft with intermittent fog and I got some nice images, but I stupidly forgot my aqua-sox and came away with grotesquely lacerated feet.

Tidal Dance

Bearded Rocks

 
























It Takes a Village

Portsmouth Congregational Church

It was another lovely couple of days on the beach. Sun, sand, friends and food, and the chance to capture the unique feeling of coastal New England. It was great to meet up at a restaurant in Portsmouth with old friends Wally and Michele who now live in York Maine. We also had the chance to welcome the newest member of our "village". Grandchild, little Ivy, seemed to fit right in, good job Kelly. The only thing better would have been if she was OUR grandchild. Are you listening Abby and Jeremy?

Ivy's First Rye Weekend

Ryes Past

 Whaleback Light, Searching for an Eddington Moment, 2012

Rye Beach Weekend, Trying Again for an Eddington Moment, 2013

Rye Beach 2014, Challenges and Opportunities, 2014

Last Glow, Rye Beach

Jeffrey Newcomer
Partridgebrookreflections.com