As much as we love to hit the road and see new and exciting places in far away, exotic lands (like Texas), I’ve often heard a young Judy Garland say, “There’s no place like home.” Our latest road trip met us with some limitations on available time to go very far, which may seem a hindrance, but can often prove a good thing. Wes and I decided to stick closer to home this time and visit the Missouri Ozarks.
I had spent some time in south central and southeastern Missouri while working on my “Swimming Holes of the Ozarks” book a few years back and was highly impressed with the region. The hilly, somewhat rugged landscape is similar to our part of Arkansas, just not as pronounced. The people are great and many of the largest freshwater springs in the world can be found there. We had been throwing around the idea of heading back that way someday and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Like any good roadtrip, we didn’t have a set plan in place. We knew some of the places we wanted to visit and had a general time frame, but other than that, we were winging it…
Friday July 27th, 2007
Early afternoon found us headed north with our first planned stop at Bass Pro Shops. Now any old country boy like me knows that the best way to start ANY trip is a Bass Pro, Cabelas or the like. Actually, I needed some special wool socks. I know – It’s July. Who wants wool socks in July? But, almost as soon as I got back from this road trip, I was headed to Minnesota for a conference, only to return for a couple of days then head to Montana. I really wanted to get these nice, Merino wool socks before that trip and this would be about my only chance. And since we were headed through Springfield anyway…..
Of course while we were in Springfield we made a stop at Lawrence Photo to look around for a bit. Then back to Bass Pro to pick up my debit card I left at the register (oops!). A little Taco Bell and we were on east bound and down! Our goal for the first evening was the little town of Eminence. I had visited there a few times in the book trips and loved it. I also loved photographing nearby Alley Mill in the past when Jesse Scribner and I were there and wanted to return.
As we traveled east on Highway 60 we passed changing scenery from the open fields and suburban type landscape into more rural areas. Rogersville, Fordland, Diggins, Seymour, Mansfiled, Norwood, Willow Springs, Mountain View, Montier, Birch Tree and Winona welcomed us and bid us farewell along the way. Mountain View was where we found what we dubbed the “Coke Machine Jail.” Hundreds of Coca Cola, Sprite and other soda machines lined up and stacked neatly in a pop machine Purgatory. They seemed to be waiting an unknown destiny, but it made for some great compositions.
From Mountain View, we were onto Winona where we would turn north on Highway 19 toward Eminence. Little did we know what awaited us in Winona; Something I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before… The sign told us we were in “Wildcat Terror-Tory!” A few tense moments found us leaving their home range with no Wildcat sightings or attacks. A close call, but we were safely on our way to Eminence where we would find a food and a place to lay our heads for the night.
Pulling into Eminence around 4:00 PM, we decided to get some shooting in before supper and setting up camp. Rocky Falls was a place I included in the book and got some great shots of before. I had wanted to go back since then and spend more time shooting again. 20 or so minutes later, we were pulling into the parking area. There weren’t many cars there, so we were optimistic about our opportunities.
One shot I had envisioned for the tumbling cascades was a close up shot near the bottom. I had envisioned pointing my camera upstream and subsequently up the falls for a very “in your face” kind of shot. But as we arrived near where I was thinking of, another photographer had beaten us to the punch. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love to see other shooters out taking photos and enjoy the often-great conversations it generates. I’m somewhat of a “visitor”, not always in the sense of someone who is visiting a new place or is a guest. I just like to “visit”.
But, this guy was having nothing of it. It tried to strike up a conversation, which only resulted in a very confused glance my way. Wes later commented that for a few moments, he thought the guy must have been visiting the U.S. abroad and spoke little or no English (which I have been accused of too). But, I finally did get some replies from the guy we dubbed “Ansel” and his English was fine. He just wasn’t in the mood to visit. That was cool; we left him to himself and got out of the way.
Wes and I made our way up and around to the top of the falls to work on some detail shots and see what else there was to be found. We spent a great deal of time up here, trying to both find our own images and stay out of “Ansel’s”. We shot dozens of images and watched kids climb the falls and try not to knock their teeth out on the slick rocks. We watched adults make their way up as well and were even snuck up on by a very sneaky Park Ranger/Ninja in training. The light was fading and our hunger growing so we made our way back down the granite to the pool the falls empty into. Ansel was just packing up to leave and had not moved an inch.
Heading back to Eminence, I again told Wes of the place I had eaten the last time I was there. The Ozark Orchard had proven a great place to fill up on a great steak. We made our way up the stairs to the much-anticipated meal. A buffet was ready and waiting with shrimp, fish, jalapeno poppers and more and we both opted for it. Let’s just say that the buffet wasn’t quite up to the steak filled memories I had of the place. But the staff was friendly and the food warm and with the afore-mentioned Taco Bell a very distant memory, we carried on.
After supper (that’s what us country boys call that meal you eat in the evening – dinner is the noon meal), we headed over to the Alley Spring campground and quickly set up our little camp before heading back out to Rocky Falls to shoot star trails and waterfalls.
We arrived to find we had the place to ourselves, except for the crazy raccoon that kept hanging around. We made our way down to the gravel bar that extends into the pool and allows for a nice view of the falls. We had scouted this before heading back to town and it seemed like this spot would work out very nicely. We’d have a great shot of the falls, plus an open shot of the sky for our star trails. We set up our gear and went to work as the almost-full moon began to peek through the trees at us, just to the left of the falls.
The moon would prove to be a problem for the star trails, but could add some interesting light to the scene. The moonlight was bright enough for us to be able to do most of the things we needed to do without the aid of a flashlight. Moonlight is a magical thing, which is why it has been written of, sang about and celebrated since the dawn of history. But, to be a good photographer, you must be a student of light. You have to look at the scene before you not as your eyes see it, but as your camera (film or digital sensor) will interpret it. What we see as that magical moonlight will often look like daylight in a picture if you’re not careful.
As I mentioned earlier, the moon was also going to cause problems for our star trails. Essentially, if we exposed the scene long enough to be able to see the falls, the sky would be over exposed causing it to look like daylight and drown out the stars. There were ways to overcome that, by blending exposures or by waiting for the moon to set about (4:17 A.M that particular night), or come back on a clear night when the moon was not up. We didn’t want to hang around until 4 o’clock and there were clouds rolling in too. So we shot a few exposures, some almost a half hour long, and just enjoyed the night.
The thing about long exposures like this is there is a lot of downtime. When an exposure takes 20 or 30 minutes, then the camera runs a special “noise reduction” process that is equally as long, it leaves a lot of time to think, visit, sleep, goof off, etc. We opted for conversation this night and spoke of things ranging from how to successfully make a go of photography to past photo trips to childhood memories. One common thread of our conversation was the very moonlight we were photographing.
A couple of years ago, Wes, Jesse Scribner, and I went on a whirlwind photo trip out west. We madly photographed parts of Arizona, Utah and Colorado. We got to see some beautiful country and spend some great time with several other photographers from Arkansas. One of the absolute highlights of that trip was a visit to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park, Utah.
We hiked up to Delicate Arch late in the evening to a huge crowd of folks, which was not at all what we were expecting. If you aren’t familiar with Delicate Arch, it is one of Utah’s state symbols, even gracing their license plates. I had seen many images of it over the years and it is one of those iconic places many outdoor photographers put on their “list.” It is always shown as such a stark place seemingly miles from anywhere and totally deserted. Yet, here we were with dozens upon dozens of folks. But, quickly after sunset that changed.
As dark drew nearer, the crowds began to leave in earnest with just us and another couple there at nightfall. They too, soon left and we had the place to ourselves. The next few hours did not produce our greatest images from the trip (although Wes got a great one), but it did prove to be one of the top wilderness experiences to date for me, and probably for the other two as well.
The full moon had risen behind the arch that night and was now an eerie illumination to a world alien to us. Moonbeams danced on the still sun-warmed rocks and set the stage for a night of photography that would play out like a semi-conscious dream. And then there was the silence; a silence that was reminiscent of the silence found deep in a cave. I have spent a lot of nights out in the wild and a few of them were creepy-still and quiet, but this one was different.
We were sitting alone on top of a mountain of bare rock. There were no trees, no plants, and no water. Just rock. There was a whisper of a breeze but with no trees to sway and no grass to rustle, it made not a sound. The absence of vegetation and water also meant the absence of insects. No crickets chirped, no mosquitoes buzzed and no cicadas sang out. It was deafening silence, the kind where you hear your every breath echo in your ears and your heartbeat suddenly becomes apparent. Our camera shutters, our footsteps and our limited conversation were the only other sounds. Then, just before we packed up to leave for the night a distant, lone coyote sounded off in the canyon below, almost immediately joined by another, then another. What could better complete the spiritual experience we had just had than a pack of coyotes singing their lonesome song as we sat beneath the icon of the red rock country of the American west?
Back to Rocky Falls, we wrapped up our conversations of moonlight memories and headed back to camp, lying down around midnight. Sleep came quickly and easily for me only to be sharply interrupted.
Saturday July 28th, 2007
We awoke about 6:30 AM to the sound of aluminum canoes being offloaded at the nearby Jack’s Fork River. I also awoke to an ankle problem that I was hoping was not what it seemed. I was hoping I had turned it the night before and didn’t really realize it until the stiffness had set in overnight. We got up and began breaking down camp, had a quick breakfast and Wes headed to the shower house, later returning to report there was no hot water. WOW!! Talk about an understatement! I think the shower I soon endured was by far, the coldest of my life. It was as if they pump the water directly from nearby Alley Spring. It was so cold it literally took your breath and contracted your muscles on contact. Several years ago, I was canoeing on the Buffalo River in February with some friends. We were sleeted on, snowed on and nearly struck by lightning. The trees hung heavy with ice and limbs snapped under the weight. Not far into the trip, we turned the canoe over and spilled into the cold water. We made it to shore, stripped and built a fire to warm up (keep in mind, we were in jeans a regular clothes, no wetsuits or the like). Hitting that water made breathing almost impossible and we had to work to make our bodies cooperate to get us to shore. But, I’m not stretching the truth when I tell you that this shower was that cold! But, it woke us up.
After surviving the shower and getting dressed, we drove a short distance to the parking area for Alley Mill and Alley Spring, where we grabbed our gear and walked to the mill. I had photographed the mill with Jesse a few years back and a print from that trip is one of the few that we have hanging in our home. I was ready to get back and shoot it again.
We shot the mill from midstream and from the shore, we took detail shots of the millrace and gates and we walked around the spring to the side stream that acts as a kind of overflow from the massive (81 million gallons of water per day) spring. I even soaked my worsening ankle in the frigid waters. Having some images we were happy with, we headed out.
Our next stop was Blue Spring. A very cool spring that, like many in the area, first sees the light of day at the base of a bluff. The water here takes on a very blue cast due both to suspended mineral content and the sheer depth of the spring. I’ve mentioned these southeast Missouri springs are big, and Blue Spring is not the largest by size or flow, but it is 310 feet deep! The blue water, the limestone bluff and the green mosses that inhabit the stream below make for some interesting compositions. A young snapping turtle resting on a bed of moss also made a great photo subject despite Wes’ repeatedly scaring the little guy under.
After Blue Spring, we were off again with our next goal being lunch. A short, scenic drive up the road we came into the town of Ellington. Ellington was a quaint place with a lot of the old town still intact, but many of the buildings were deserted. A couple of rounds through town found us pulling into Hall’s Family Restaurant. Wes walked and I hobbled in for a couple of great Ranch Burgers and some fried mushrooms.
Bidding farewell to Ellington, we headed north on Highway 21 toward Ironton and Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park. While doing the Swimming Hole book, I had visited Johnson’s Shut-Ins a couple of times and was intrigued by the place. In this context shut-ins is an Ozarks term that describes a place where water forms large pockets in rocks that make pools. The water becomes “shut in”, hence the name. We made it to the park that afternoon and did some scouting for the next day.
This had been one of my favorite stops on the swimming hole trail and a very popular summer destination for a lot of folks. But, in late 2005 a large aboveground reservoir, named Taum Sauk Reservoir, located nearby atop Proffit Mountain had burst. Subsequently, 1.3 billion gallons of water suddenly came crashing down the East Fork of the Black River and through the shut-ins, taking trees, rocks buildings and other debris with it. A path was cut down the mountain side that looked as if a road crew had cut a new interstate through. A quote from a Missouri State Parks website said “When the water receded, the landscape was completely changed. The water and rocks scoured a hole at the base of the mountain, then rocks created a dam across the river and formed a six-acre lake. The park superintendent’s home was gone. Trees stripped from the hillside were piled 15 feet high on the few trees left standing in the campground. Sand and clay covered roads, campsites and trails, sometimes more than 8 feet deep. A part of the Ozark Trail was washed away.”
The park was closed after the incident and had only recently and temporarily re-opened. The landscape was indeed changed drastically. And even though much had been done in the way of cleanup, the changes were still apparent. The once large swimming was a mere puddle compared to what it once was and many of the seasoned visitors spoke of the changes. Johnson’s Shut-Ins is still a special place, but will not be the same as pre-breach for many years.
Scouting done and ankle still hurting we sought the advise of the folks in the store at the state park as to where to camp that night. There was a great campground at the Shut-ins, but it was still closed. We were told to head up to Taum Sauk Mountain where we could find camping spots. We picked our spot, pitched our tent and kicked back for a bit. After a brief rest, we loaded up and headed a few miles north of Ironton to Elephant Rocks State Park. Elephant Rocks is a great granite outcropping that sets not far off the main highway. You turn from the road into the parking area and begin the hike and are almost immediately at the rocks. It’s an easy hike (even with a bum ankle) and well worth a family outing if you are close by.
Once we made it up to the rocks we played tourist for a bit, leaving our cameras in the car and seeing the sights. There is an old quarry there and some of the coolest graffiti to be found in this part of the country. Several generations of stone carvers had worked here quarrying the granite and making things from headstones to building blocks for grand structures all over the U.S. Many of these workers were obviously skilled with hammer and chisel and had left their names, designs and dates to weather the ages. There were carvings in the rock from the third quarter of the 1800’s.
We saw the sights and explored some then returned to the car to come up with a game plan. As we entered the park we noticed a sign listing the park hours as being 8:00 AM to 8:00 PM. We really wanted to shoot the rocks at sunset, which happened to be at 8:14 PM. A quick (well kind of) visit with a very nice lady working at the park assured us that we would not have any problems with staying past park hours and that the gates would not be locked. Feeling a little better about the situation, we hefted our packs and made our way back up the rocks around 6:00 PM.
The next four and a half hours was a veritable photo frenzy with Wes and I parting ways almost immediately. I spent some time in my first location shooting and lost sight of Wes very quickly. He had taken his camera, tripod and a lens and struck out in search of great compositions. What he didn’t take was the remainder of his photo gear. After I had my shots and was ready to move on, I couldn’t find Wes, and wasn’t comfortable leaving his gear lying there on the rocks. So, I put my backpack on, threw my tripod, with camera mounted, across my shoulder and put his backpack in front of me and began the climb to the top. Wes and I both get comments all the time about how massive our camera bags are and how folks would hate to carry one of them around. Here I was carrying two of them uphill!
Once at the top, there was still no Wes. I asked a couple of folks who had came up from the opposite direction and they had not seen anyone taking photos along the way. So, I just went back to shooting, knowing he’d show up eventually. And eventually he did, somewhat surprised that I had carried all that stuff.
Soon the sun began to set and our shutters began to sing at all the great shots that lay before us. There was a nice lull after the sun sank below the horizon, but the moon soon rose and the picture taking began again. I found a composition I really liked that put the moon between the two main “elephants”. I shot and re-composed, shot and recomposed again then began looking for new ways to shoot it. One idea I had was to start the exposure then put myself in the image for some of the time, making a semi-transparent me. I liked the image, but something was missing.
We had discussed the starkness of the place and how it would make a perfect place for shooting fine-art nude images because of that. The next thing I knew, there I was in all my glory. I faced the moon and the camera faced me. A few long exposures and a little “painting” with a flashlight and a collaborative effort created the “two moons” shot in my gallery.
Our creative juices flowing (and me dressed again) Wes said there was an image he had wanted to shoot for sometime. He described the concept of a photo illustrating the theory of evolution. We discussed the technical aspects of getting such a shot, then the theological and moral deliberations of evolution, but agreed to shoot the image. A first try resulted in a great image except for one little flaw, but another three-minute exposure and we nailed it!
Wes had climbed atop one of the large boulders and silhouetted himself in the moonlight. I opened the shutter and directed him as to when to switch through our previously rehearsed poses. Each pose lasted around a minute with Wes having to hold as close to perfectly still as he could. Some more flashlight “painting” on the boulder and we had it in the bank.
We loaded up and made our way back to the car, another awsome night of shooting photos under the magical moonlight. We made it to the car and out of the park just fine. Our next stop was McDonalds in Ironton. It was now getting pretty late and McDonalds was probably the only place open. Plus, we had noticed it was a Wi-Fi hot spot and we needed to catch up on e-mails and send my wife Stacey some special “moon pictures”. After a quick meal and some computer time, we made our way back up the mountain to our campsite.
Sunday, July 29th, 2007
Since our scouting at Johnson’s Shut-Ins told us the park didn’t open until 8:00 AM, we got to sleep in a little. I awoke to agonizing pain in the troublesome ankle, which confirmed my fears that I was having a bout with gout. This, of course, gave Wes something else with which to give me a hard time about my getting old. But, the truth be told, I’ve had cases of gout off and on for years. My mom has it, both of her sisters have it and my brother has it. This was my first flare up in a couple of years, but there was no doubt of who was visiting. But I got up and limped/jumped on one foot around camp until we hit the road.
Now, if you’ve never had gout, it ain’t no fun. The pain is oftentimes horrible. I was dreading the rest of the trip since little things like Wes hitting the brakes coming down the mountain took my breath. We made our way back to Ironton for gas, then on to the Shut-ins. In the parking lot, the pain seemed to worsen. Wes and I discussed my making the hike, but I told him to go on without me. If I decided to try and make it, I’d be along later. As we parted he asked what the chances were of seeing me down there. I replied with “about 15 percent.” Wes remarked that he figured that meant I wouldn’t make it and struck off.
The longer I sat there and hobbled around the parking lot, the more frustrated I became. “The heck with it!” I thought and struck off, sans the camera gear, in search of Wes. The pain was excruciating, but I pressed on. I took the first set of steps down from the boardwalk trail to the Shut-ins themselves and was fortunate to find Wes right away. It was all I could do to make my way down to him, but I wasn’t going to let it go now, especially after his doubting comments in the parking lot.
A wide, half surprised, half smart-assed grin graced his face when he saw me. He was just putting his camera in his underwater housing that allows him to take his regular camera below the surface. I hadn’t packed a swimsuit, but took my shoes off to soak my gout-stricken ankle in the cool water. After some very interesting scenery and a little relief in the cool water, I had had enough. I emptied my pockets and got in the water in my street shorts for a swim.
The water was great and it was cool to get to try and shoot a few images underwater and a few that were half in, half out of the water. After some silliness and an interesting visit with some lady swimmers, we decided to hit the trail. As we made our way back toward the parking lot, the gout was still a very strong presence. I had to laugh though as Wes was holding back so he wouldn’t run off and leave me, he subconsciously developed a limp that mimicked mine.
Back at the car we headed on. Our next real stop was in Potosi, MO for lunch. Against Wes’ advice and ribbing I had a great rib eye sandwich at Boo’s. Red meat tends to encourage gout, but I was willing to take that chance.
From Potosi, we had decided to try and retrace some of the old historic Route 66. We picked up the old “mother road” northeast of St. Roberts and followed it for some time. Along the way, we found old motor courts, abandoned garages, homemade signs and gift shops that still clung to the glory that once was Route 66. Heck we even found a Frog Crossing and a giant frog near Waynesville.
After following Route 66 for a ways we were back on the interstate with our sights set on home. We had originally planned to find a great sunset spot along the way, but encroaching clouds and an upcoming trip to Minnesota for me, dissuaded that. After photographing some humorous and not so humorous situations with the signs located around an adult book store, we headed on home for me to repack and head north again.
This road trip had been much closer to home and shorter than some others have been and will be, but it had been a grand time and we came away with some great images. Soon after this trip, Wes will start medical school. Don’t tell him, but he’ll never know how proud we are of him for that or how great these trips have been. I know his time will now be limited and I can only hope we can still get several trips in each year. We’ll keep doing PhotoRoadTrips one way or another and I hope you’ll tag along with us as it expands and grows…..
See ya next trip!!
Glenn
Level 6 ad
name and website
