It was the first time that I broke the bubble since Covid began.  For nearly nine months I’ve avoided any travel that wasn’t solo and/or off-grid.  I was to meet friend, writer, and photographer Kristi Parsons in the Outer Banks, a series of barrier islands off the mainland of North Carolina.  Earlier this year (February) we traveled together in the Outer Banks and I knew that Kristi was being safe and taking the virus seriously since we parted ways.

Kristi had several beautiful properties lined up for our stay in the Outer Banks, one in Southern Shores and one in Kitty Hawk.  Both provided an opportunity to practice a genre of photography that was new and intriguing to me:  architectural photography.  A couple years ago, I applied for a full-time position with Outer Beaches Realty in Avon, North Carolina to photograph their catalog of rental properties.  While I didn’t ultimately win the position, I did buy a number of online educational tutorials regarding architectural photography and I became quite interested in how to capture the essence of built structure with the camera.

So, unlike most of my purely landscape-oriented trips, this trip was an opportunity to pivot, learn, and expand my experience behind the camera.  I bought a few pieces of equipment prior to the trip:  a Really Right Stuff center column for my existing tripod and a CamRanger to shoot wirelessly from my iPad. I also rented several pieces of equipment from BorrowLenses.com:  a 19mm tilt-shift Nikkor lens; a Profoto B10 flash unit; and a Profoto wireless trigger.  Once the rental gear arrived, it was off to the Outer Banks!

November 9-12th

The first four days of the trip were all about The Cottage, a boutique airbnb property offered by Katie Denton of Bees Nees Getaways.  Sure, Kristi and I did sunset at the nearby Duck boardwalks; we walked the beaches of Southern Shores; we visited Historic Corolla Park.  But, for me, it was all about photographing the house, and about learning how to use the tilt-shift lens and flash unit.  These were new toys for me.  I was excited.  Anyone who has ever used a tilt-shift lens can probably identify!  The ability to literally shift the frame of vision up and down, left and right on every single frame, without any movement of tripod or camera whatsoever…sort of world changing stuff (if you’ve never played with a ts lens you’ll just have to take my word for it!).  

The Cottage is located in Southern Shores, just minutes from downtown Duck, North Carolina.  As an owner-managed property, the design and personal touches at The Cottage are second to none.  In a time when the larger rental companies are cutting corners everywhere (linens, soaps, starter kits, etc.), The Cottage had absolutely all of it and more.  An arrival gift and personal note welcomed us.  A fully stocked garage with bicycles, chairs, games etc.  Shampoos, conditioners, body soaps, hand soaps, linens, quilts, high-quality appliances–Kristi and I both got lost in the clean blue flame of the gas range in the kitchen…yeah, it’s the small things in life!  It felt like home–at least the home you wished you had.  Perhaps the best compliment I could give–especially in covid times–is that the property felt comfortable.  I worried about nothing.

On the second night of our stay, I tried my first blue-hour dusk shot of The Cottage.  For those unfamiliar, these particular photographs are often what is referred to as “blended time” exposures.  During the early blue hour I exposed for the wooden shingles on the exterior of the home.  Later, when it was nearly dark, I exposed for the windows and then cut them into the earlier exposure to give them greater visual glow.  I also used the modeling light on the Profoto B10 flash unit to walk throughout the frame with the CamRanger, adding artificial light to the exterior porches, landscaping, and the underneath of the home.  Each of these exposures were cut into the aforementioned base blend.  For a guy who doesn’t ever practice this type of photography, it was a neat and challenging sequence.  I need a lot more practice to master the technique.  For the remainder of our time at The Cottage it would rain, making this first shot my one and only opportunity to practice an exterior exposure using both ambient and artificial light.

For the interiors, I used only ambient light, traveling up and down the stairs throughout the day watching the sunlight dance from room to room.  Surprisingly, one of the most interesting rooms in terms of light was the master bathroom shower!  All morning long, the sun punched through a block glass window and painted beautiful patterns on the turquoise and sand colored tile work of the shower.  The most photogenic piece of the home, however, was a custom reading nook situated on the main living level, elevated slightly, surrounded by windows, and decorated with an ornate chandelier and bed-like lounger.  It was a wonderful home and it was great fun to try my hand at architectural photography.  I have much to learn!  Below are some of the frames I created.  Visit the Bees Nees Instagram for more inspiration on the home.  To read a blog I wrote about The Cottage specifically, click here.

During our stay at The Cottage, Kristi and I did sneak away and spend a sunrise morning at the historic Bodie Island Lighthouse, part of Cape Hatteras National Seashore.  The long marsh grasses that surround the wooden boardwalk around the back of this beautiful structure turn the most amazing bronze color during the autumn season.  I get way too excited about small things like this!  I consider this color change to be just as exciting and impactful to a photograph as the fall leaf colors in the mountains.  We did not have the right sky conditions on this particular morning, nor any of the extras like fog or storm color; however, I still found the scene beautiful.  I snapped a couple quick shots while also trying to stay out of the way of the folks photographing on the platform behind me.

November 13-14th

After a lazy morning farewell at The Cottage, Kristi and I hit the road to kill some time before check-in at our next home.  Check-out / check-in overlap days are always difficult:  the car is loaded with valuables (cameras, computers etc.), making it an annoying yet effective leash that demands care, worry, and attention.  We opted for a walk around downtown Manteo, followed by a short drive to the Salvo day use area.  Kristi surprised me by stopping on the way to Salvo and picking up my favorite breakfast combination omelette/smoothie from Fresh Fit Cafe (if you don’t know these guys you really should!).  So, we had a very windy, waterfront brunch in Salvo while watching about half a dozen kite surfers navigate and play the wind.

Around 3:30pm we were off to check into the Saltwood Cottage in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.  The Saltwood Cottage is a tiny beach home located in the side yard of the owner’s own property.  Creative use of fencing and landscaping made the property feel very private.  Designed with a bit of surf shack / tropical garden / beach tiny home vibes, the Saltwood Cottage was incredibly welcoming.  

Immediately upon arrival, I began scouting the back of the property for a blue hour / evening composition.  I had to return my rental gear the following morning, so this was a one shot opportunity.  We didn’t have time to stage much or to light a fire or do any of the extras.  It was just a quick choice of composition and then on to the process of capturing frames and experimenting with the Profoto B10 for additional artificial light.  I found it challenging with this particular property to balance the many different color-temperature lights both inside and outside.  Instead of turning on every light, I actually turned off the exterior chandelier and some of the interior lights.  I wish I had more time with the rental gear to really figure out the best mix for this shot.

As with many tiny homes, outdoor living expands the living area into the surrounding landscape and Saltwood Cottage was no exception.  The back of the home featured a beautiful courtyard complete with fire pit, hammock swing, sofa, and a ton of blooming flowers.  The owners were generous enough to leave several duraflame logs, as well as access to a well-stocked wood pile.  Watching the two of us try to start a fire was rather comical I would imagine!  In our defense though, the duraflame logs were wet from previous days’ rain.  We eventually found the magic combination of small sticks, dried leaves, and toilet paper gave us the flame necessary to catch the larger logs (I can feel the cringing from apocalyptic pandemic hoarders with regards to using toilet paper as a fire starter!).

Following an uneventful sunrise the next morning at nearby Jennette’s Pier, I spent four hours photographing the tiny interior space before re-packaging and running my rental gear over to the local shipping store.  Below you’ll find some of the frames that I managed to capture.  More can be found within a blog I wrote specifically about The Saltwood Cottage here.  And if you’re interested in staying at The Saltwood Cottage, you can find them online here, or at airbnb here.  Their Instagram page offers additional inspiration.

After shipping back the tilt-shift lens and flash unit earlier in the afternoon, it was a deep sigh and then back into my comfort blanket:  landscape photography.  I decided to take Kristi over to the Roanoke Sound for a sunset near a series of dead trees.  We arrived a few hours early and just hung out at the small beach before the show.

The first question I usually get is “can you please tell me where this was?”  I’ll say this:  the location is public and it’s easy to find.  With that said, the reward is in finding it.  If you’re my kind of people, enough said.  I’ve been very open with sharing my locations in the past; I’m trying to be more responsible going forward in terms of how and where I drive traffic.  When there is one or two photographers quietly working an area with a camera, locals and visitors can still enjoy the physical environment as well.  When a group of many photographers (together or separately) monopolize a small area with tripods and gear, the impact is simply invasive.  Other users are negatively impacted.  My personal opinions on large groups of landscape photographers and the ethical ramifications aside, do your best to work around and accommodate folks when you’re out in the natural landscape.  Nothing is more unattractive than an outdoor photographer who is aggressive about a location or spot to the detriment of other users (If you ever want to witness this behavior, spend some time around the Tidal Basin at sunrise during the spring Cherry Blossom bloom in Washington D.C.). 

November 15-22nd

I make no efforts to hide my preference for the southern Outer Banks.  For me, crossing the Marc Basnight Bridge (formerly the Herbert Bonner Bridge), is a prerequisite to “getting to the good stuff.”  I’m always a bit surprised to hear many fellow photographers who prefer the ease of Nags Head and the northern Currituck Banks to the Cape Hatteras National Seashore to the south.  For me, the stretch from Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge to Hatteras is home.  It’s where I feel most comfortable.  It’s where I still see growth potential and new discoveries behind the lens for my own portfolio.

So, when Kristi and I packed up our stuff and pointed our rides south towards the village of Hatteras, I was quite content.  As a lifelong visitor to the Outer Banks, I find myself somewhere between a tourist and a local.  I can’t call myself local, obviously, but I also can’t properly identify as a tourist.  I’ve spent considerable time in the Outer Banks, and I’ve spent it close to the land/water; fishing, swimming, and photographing in corners that most casual visitors would never venture.  When I turned sixteen, long before beach permits and such, I drove my used Chevrolet Silverado all over the beaches and sounds of Hatteras.  It was amazing.  I’ve waded into deep holes of the Pamlico Sound between Avon and Buxton, and the channels between Hatteras and Ocracoke with a fishing rod and jig.  I grew up around beach bon-fires and firework shows.  I enjoyed donuts and breakfast at the Orange Blossom and ate hotdogs from an alien spaceship.  I stayed at motels that no longer even exist, and some that still do but have changed names and owners so many times they are barely recognizable.  Every time I make the drive down NC-12, it’s like putting on nostalgic music or turning the pages of an old photo album…it’s a living memory for me.

The first few days of our Hatteras stay were simply R&R for me:  I didn’t photograph much.  Kristi an I walked the beaches around The Point in Buxton and Hatteras, as well as behind the campground in Frisco.  We didn’t find much shell activity–although Kristi did luck onto a Scotch Bonnet in Hatteras literally the evening we arrived–and other than a few washed up sting-rays in the nearshore, we didn’t see much other than a few fisherman landing some nice Puppy Drum.  I’ve been on a personal hunt to find a Velella velella, a tiny, blue, jelly-fish-like creature that washes ashore from time to time; a macro shot of that is on my wish list.

The first solid opportunity I had behind the lens was on a winterish evening when intense winds effectively rearranged the sand and erased the footprints in the dune fields behind the Pea Island Lifesaving Station near the Basnight Bridge and the Oregon Inlet.  The cold winds–for a reason I’m unsure of–created a consistent shelf of puffy clouds over the Atlantic Ocean while the western skies (where the sun would set) remained nice and clear all day.  I used the softer light of evening and a wide-angle lens to really carve out the shadows of the wind-driven ripples in the dunes, while using the clouds to the south and east to fill the skies. 

A high-pressure weather system moved over us for a handful of days bringing cold mornings, warm afternoons and soft to non-existent winds.  Typically a forecast with no clouds is not my favorite setup for creating new work behind the lens.  I have to be careful, though, to recognize that this line of thought is the result of trying to fit into the traditional, grand, sweeping aesthetic of fine-art landscape photography.  Over the years, I’ve been personally drifting from this genre, finding the box a bit rigid for my own comforts and the consumer of this style of photography a bit too removed from the actual adventure of connecting with the natural world (I know, poor generalization but simply my own observations to date).  Instead, I’ve had an increasing draw towards macro and intimate photography, and take increasing pride in being able to provide cadence within my own stream of images.  All of that to say, I’m beginning to learn that calm and cloudless days can be just as productive as stormy and dynamic weather days if I, as a photographer, can be flexible enough to find both personal inspiration and technique to match the circumstances.

Kristi and I spent the predawn walking the heavily eroded beach near Avon Pier one morning.  She found a really beautiful piece of light blue sea glass in the swash zone of the receding tide.  I was content calling the morning a loss behind the lens.  We were driving back towards Hatteras on NC-12 between Avon and Buxton when I glanced to the right at the Pamlico Sound and noticed the serene, other-worldly view of glass-calm water as far as the eye can see, reflecting the pastel colors of sunrise against a saturated cyan and blue band of horizon.  On clear mornings with unobstructed horizons, the earth’s shadow creates these beautiful gradients from blue to magenta just before sunrise.  I made an awkward u-turn near Fatty’s Cafe in Buxton and buzzed back to the first parking area near the Canadian Hole. I was a bit too late to capture the pastel gradient at its best, and there wasn’t time to really find any suitable foreground to give the shot context and anchor.  However, I knew that the next morning was supposed to be a repeat of the same weather; my wheels began turning.

The consolation prize was an absolute abundance of blooming Indian Blanket wildflowers (also known as Firewheels) all around the parking area.  The cool morning and windless conditions created a thick coating of dew on the flowers.  Kristi and I spent the better part of several hours with our heads buried in the sand, studying the different color combinations behind the lens.  It was a surreal morning for me, more reminiscent of an experience I would’ve had in the Great Smoky Mountains during the annual spring bloom.  To be surrounded by such beauty with no wind and a thick coating of dew–there was definitely some magic there.

We hopped the ferry over to Ocracoke the same evening and spent the last hours of sunlight walking around town, exploring Springer’s Point, and settling in for a calm sunset at the National Park Service boat docks.  On our return trip to the ferry docks, we fought off swarms of mosquitoes that also reveled in the warm and windless conditions the high-pressure system was gifting!

Our final morning of the trip I really wanted to take advantage of the soft gradients produced by the earth’s shadow.  Kristi and I made sure during the afternoon the day before to find some foreground structure along the Pamlico Sound that might make interesting contrasts against the infinitely calm background scene.  We got to our location before first light and waited patiently for the soft hues of morning to give life to our scene.  This particular location featured the remains of an old seawall, or bulkhead, as well as a trio of wooden pilings.  I figured I could use either subject in a very abstract and/or minimalistic manner.  

Despite walking the scene repeatedly while waiting for sunrise, I managed to miss the opportunity of a nearby small outflow.  Water from a small pond surrounded by tall marsh grass was slowly trickling back into the Pamlico Sound.  The outflow had a beautiful pattern and seemed so serene in contrast to the glass-calm Pamlico Sound to which it was flowing.  I felt that there was a highly moving composition and frame to be made at that particular location, but I walked away feeling I had ultimately failed.  I don’t know that this particular landscape feature will be around the next time I visit but I’ll certainly return.  It’s subjects and situations like this that make continuously returning to specific places so fulfilling for me.

On our way back to the house, Kristi and I couldn’t help ourselves from stopping once more along NC-12 between Avon and Buxton to try our hand at the Indian Blanket wildflowers.  While I was across the highway with my head in some blooms, Kristi yelled over asking if I had seen the snails.  Snails?  I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly.  Indeed, Kristi seemed to find the only series of blooms with several snails working over the plants.  I thought it was a really beautiful scene, though I would imagine gardeners would disagree!

I pulled out of Hatteras at three a.m. the following morning, easing through the villages and off of the island towards home in Virginia.  Passing through Pea Island in the dark the fog was already present.  The calm conditions and clouds in the sky, combined with the low-lying fog were sure to create one hell of a sunrise.  The photographer in me wanted nothing more than to stop and wait for first light.  A younger me wouldn’t have been able to resist.  I motored on.  The fog got thicker and thicker, my speeds dropping as visibility dropped significantly.  

The sunrise was incredible.  Many other photographers were in place on that morning to capture beautiful clouds and reflections, as well as the thick fog.  I wasn’t mad.  It was neat to see all of the images on Instagram and Facebook.  Author Robin Wall Kimmerer writes about the precepts of the honorable harvest–“to take only what is given, to use it well, to be grateful for the gift, and to reciprocate the gift.”  I took the days I had been given and I used them well.  I was grateful for both the windy and the cold days, as well as the warm and the calm ones.  I’m grateful to Kristi Parsons for inviting me along and for giving me the opportunity to practice architectural photography at the two cottages.  And I’m grateful to our hosts for sharing their beautiful homes with us.  It was a great trip and we both did our best to honor the place and the opportunities provided.  Until next time, grateful.