A Charmed Life

In my last post, I detailed an adventure in which, while though I didn’t exactly confront it head-on, death was close enough so that I could feel it lurking. To talk about my life so far in any meaningful way it is necessary to mention the compendium of near-death and ‘almost near-death’ experiences I’ve survived. There is a plethora of them and they have affected how I see life profoundly.

There have been so many narrow escapes over the years I could almost write a book about them. To name just a few:

♦ come within a few feet of being broadsided by a speeding tractor-trailer truck that I couldn’t see coming around a curve (my vehicle’s engine hesitated, inexplicable because it was an almost-new rental that didn’t hesitate at all before or after the incident during the entirety of a two week trip)

♦ nearly froze to death in the winter desert (this and the experience above happened the same day!)

♦ skidded to a halt within inches of plowing off a cliff with my truck and trailer in a snowstorm while driving through mountains.

♦ climbed an extremely steep cliff until I was 300 or 400 feet off the ground before realizing that I couldn’t go up any further (blocked by a protruding rock shelf) and that trying to go back down was almost sure suicide.

♦ been held up by a knife-wielding drug-crazed man.

♦ almost froze to death in a northest forest.

♦ been caught underneath a pounding waterfall, not able to tell which way was up and almost losing consciousness.

♦ been in a plane that was both struck by lightning and hit by wind shear as the pilots tried to land it (they couldn’t, we finally had to land at another airport 100 miles way)

♦ realized I was slowly, but steadily being surrounded by 2,000 degree lava pushing its way inexorably down a mountain side in Hawaii and jumping over it at the last minute.

♦ and so on...

Then there was the incident this very morning. I pulled out of my driveway just before dawn to head up to Williamsville to deliver some books. It was a dark and stormy morning; pillowy gray clouds with angry black-bottoms were scuttling across the soggy sky. Rain pelted down and wind gusts heaved me from side to side. As I entered a particularly wide-open stretch of the New York State Thruway, a tractor-trailer truck, suddenly caught broadside by an extreme gust of wind, lost control. The truck jackknifed and careened slowly and smoothly like it was on ice from one side of the road to the other, crashing into both barriers in explosions of sparks before finally winding up sideways in the middle of the highway. All this seemed to happen in slow motion. I hit my brakes and skidded to a halt some twenty feet away; had I been following any closer, well - I’d rather not think about it. Good thing it was early on Saturday morning and traffic was sparse – I wasn’t rear-ended and no one else hit the truck either. I shudder to think about the results if this had happened during rush hour.

This is why I’m convinced I’ve lived a charmed life - so far anyway. These experiences have opened my eyes, ironically allowing me to see life’s magnificence (especially in nature) through coming so close to death. These incidents also inspire me to share what I see and feel through my writing and photography.

And nowhere do I feel the beauty of life more than in old growth forests. Just recently, I have started on a mission to explore what’s left of old-growth forest near my home and eventually in the rest of the Northeast.

Next: Primeval Perceptions

Danger Dave Somehow Manages to Find Yet More Danger (Danger Dave Part 2)

Fortunately, there is no problem making it safely back down to the bottom of the hill. What a difference a little elevation can make, down here there is far less snow and the roads are just wet. I head for the Red House entrance; there should be no problem getting into the park that way, the road is wider and the elevation lower.

As I approach the Red House Lake area, I am stunned; it’s a surreal world of fall colors and snow; it’s breathtaking. Better get to work while these conditions last. I shoot various pretty scenes around the lake then decide to hike into the woods to see what the snow accent around Allegany’s only real waterfall, Bridal Falls. By now, the temperature is beginning to warm up and snow rains down from the trees, pummeling me as if I am on the receiving end of a snowball barrage from above. A few times, a heavy blob manages to land squarely on the back of my neck, making its way inside my jacket and shirt, sliding down the skin of my back; brrrrrrr.

The waterfall is just a trickle; I had assumed with all the wet weather we’d been having that there would be more to it; disappointing. As I look around for something else interesting to shoot, I hear the crack! of a gunshot. I am momentarily confused, I know that bow-hunting season begins the next day, but no one should be in the woods hunting today, much less with a gun. Only it’s not a gunshot, it’s a tree limb, cracking off under the weight of the snow and crashing down about 20 feet away in a maelstrom of flying snow and leaves. Yikes! Nevertheless, I soon find myself absorbed in the composition of an interesting scene, forgetting all about the danger of falling limbs and trees when I hear more cracking. This time a whole tree comes crashing down off the embankment down which the waterfall cascades, its roots ripped right out of the cliff by the burden of the incredibly heavy snow. O.K., it’s time to leave, no image is worth being killed for.

As I make my way back, the snow rains down from the trees even harder than before and, by the time I pop out of the woods, I am thoroughly soaked and shivering. Only one solution to this problem, I jump into the truck and blast the heater - ahhhhh, that feels so good. By now, the snow has turned to all rain and the magic has melted. I head home, wet, warm and happy, for I have once again been fortunate enough to have seen the kind of beauty that most people only experience a few lucky times in their lives. Even if it did involve some danger, it was definitely worth it!

Danger Dave - Part One

This experience occurred on Friday, October 16th; I didn’t post it until the images to go along with it were developed.

I guess by now regular readers of my blog know that I seek out unusual conditions and places that have the potential for capturing unique and exciting photography. Sometimes, by their very nature, these conditions or places lead to increased chances of bodily harm; that is, sometimes the risk factor goes up with the corresponding increased potential for interesting photography; I would soon find out that that would be the case today.

The forecast called for a wet snowfall overnight and I woke up well before dawn excited about the prospects. With many of the autumn leaves still hanging like ornaments in the trees, this could offer some unique scenery – despite our reputation for snow here in Western New York, it is not common in mid-October when the leaves are at their most colorful.

I look outside; sure enough, a layer of snow has blanketed the trees and ground. With the temperature hovering around freezing and the forecast calling for a gradual warm-up, I know these conditions won’t last long so I decide to hedge my bets; I head south to higher elevations, to Allegany State Park where the temperature should be a few degrees colder and these promising conditions may last a bit longer.

Fortunately, the roads are still warm and the snow is not sticking to them so I make good time. I head up the winding, twisting north entrance road into the park just as dawn’s early light begins to reveal the towering forest on both sides of me. This road tops out at about 1,000 feet higher in elevation than back home and the closer I get to the top the deeper the snow gets; slipping and sliding now in the icy slush, I switch into four-wheel drive.

Unfortunately, this same heavy wet snow that increases the potential for interesting photography also increases the likelihood of downed tree limbs and branches. Limbs and even entire trees are sagging precariously under the weight of the cement snow and several times, I have to thread the needle between bent or fallen trees to keep making progress. Alas, rounding a bend I witness a tree slowly shuddering to the ground right in front of me. Naively, I think I can get out and move it – not a chance; it’s a bigger tree than I thought and it’s completely blocking the road. Nothing to do but turn around and go back down the way I came, hoping that another tree hasn’t fallen in the meantime caging me in.

Next: Danger Dave Somehow Manages to Find Yet More Danger (Danger Dave Part 2)