More Adventurous

Sometimes the most important lessons in photography come not from the dissection of the perfect photo, but from the shot that was not captured: the opportunity that was missed.

Allow me to digress.

I want to become more adventurous. That's not to say I'm wholly unadventurous - I've traveled a bit, have driven nearly 23,000 miles across the US and Canada over the last two summers, rock climb regularly (albeit indoors only), and have been lucky enough to have a slew of unique experiences others may never have. But does traveling and having unique experiences inherently make one adventurous? I'd venture emphatically to say: no.

Adventurous (adj): disposed to seek adventure or to cope with the new and unknown; characterized by unknown dangers and risks.

When I travel, it's calculated and safe. I plan. I turn to maps and guides for advice. I follow a relatively set itinerary. I stay within my comfort zone. I'm largely risk-averse. I worry. I get stressed and shut down. Typically I'm not one to jump into something head first, eyes closed, fingers crossed. For the most part, I remove the "adventure" from the adventure! It's sad, I know. I could get into the family of origin jargon about why I am the way I am, but this is a photography blog, right?

Recently I've committed myself to a new perspective. To say "yes" more often. To be open to new, exciting experiences, even if they seem scary and have unknown elements, which they often do. I'm trying to go somewhere or do something new each and every weekend, which is why when I invited 7 friends to hike Old Rag Mountain with me this Saturday, and they all either responded "no" or failed to reply at all, I decided I'd just go on my own.

My plan was to wake up at 4am on Saturday morning and be on the road by 5 at the latest. With Old Rag Mountain, which rests in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, being the most popular hike in the area and one of the best-traveled on the entire coast, I knew I'd have to hit the trail by 7am to avoid significant delays on the more technical portions. Typically I'd do significant research the night before, even for a short day-trip, but this time I merely checked the weather: 70 and beautiful - a picturesque Spring day. I'd pack quickly in the morning and get breakfast on the road. I'd have to leave Donovan behind since dogs are not allowed on the trail.

When my alarm buzzed at 4am this morning, after less than 5 hours of sleep, my body screamed "NO!!!!" as did my brain. For a moment I considered postponing the excursion until next weekend, or more likely, forever. But I quickly recommitted myself to the mission.

To me, there's something very special about being on the road before sunrise. It's a time I cherish: the quiet, the serenity, being one of the few awake to watch the sun peek over the horizon. It's an experience I got to have a number of times over the summer, and it never gets old for me. I fueled up at a rest stop about halfway to my destination with an Egg McMuffin and a Starbucks Double Shot Espresso can. Breakfast. Of. Champions.

As I approached the outskirts of the park on unfamiliar rural roads looking for the Old Rag parking area and trailhead, I realized I actually had little to no idea where I was going. Embarrassingly, I turned a 90-mile jaunt from point A to point B into a 135-mile circular trek in search of my destination, wherever it was. In truth, I wasn't exactly sure where I was, I just knew I was not where I needed to be. I finally reached the parking lot, slathered on some sunblock and bug screen, and hit the trail as quickly as I could.

Almost immediately I regretted having brought my camera. With an extra lens, the pack was heavy. It was making me sweat. It was cumbersome on the portions of the trail in which maneuvering narrow passageways is necessary. The truth is, when I go hiking, I rarely if ever use my camera. But I feel as though I should have it, just in case. I bring it, I carry it the whole way, but it stays in the bag. Here's the bottom line: I'm a hiker first, and a photographer second. Or third. Or fourth. The fact is, I'm probably a writer, athlete, and musician before I'm a photographer. I'll never lug a tripod to the top of a mountain. Never. I don't seek out the summit in order to capture a brilliant panoramic shot. I seek it out for the satisfaction of sitting down atop a mountain that I just conquered, having a snack, drinking some water, looking out into the vast expanses, and feeling the cool breeze and hot sun beat against my face.

Overall, for an East Coast hike, I enjoyed it. The mile-long rock scramble, reminiscent of playing amongst the bulbous mounds at Joshua Tree, made the ascent interesting, not to mention a challenge. The summit was underwhelming, as summits typically are. I pulled out my camera, snapped a couple obligatory shots of vast blue and green, and returned it to my sweat-covered pack. I'm sure a more experienced and committed photographer could have captured an impressive panoramic today. I just don't think I have it in me - technically or emotionally.

I then sat and thought about how you have to be motivated to complete a hike, or anything for that matter, on your own. People like doing things together. And can you blame them? When you're on your own there's no one to share in or validate your accomplishment. No one to be proud of you. Just you. You have to be self-satisfied. You have to be proud of yourself. That has to be enough.

I completed the 9-mile loop in 3 hours, a swift 3-mile per hour pace (here I go, talking about speed and efficiency instead of stopping to smell the roses...or more accurately, the poison ivy). This is a good example of how I suck the adventure out of adventure! Life's a journey - that should be my new mantra.

I only took 9 photos today, and while I don't have any impressive shots to show for my efforts, I'm okay with that. In fact, the only "keeper" is a photo of a leaf, which I probably could have captured by walking down the street :) Next time I probably won't even bring my camera along - too much pressure, too much guilt for never taking it out. Sometimes I just want to enjoy the scenery, soak up the experience, and capture the images through my eyes, instead of through a lens.

And now it's time for a much needed nap.