blansky
08-01-2006, 08:56 PM
As you probably know I wander over to my favorite place on the planet, Hawaii, every 6 months so my wife can charge her batteries. She doesn’t bring it with her so guess that’s what she’s doing.
So somehow Robert (roteague) found out we were coming over and emailed me and said we should go to Haleakala and photograph the sun coming up. Well in my opinion if God had wanted us to be photographing sunrises he would have made them later in the day, but hey, that’s just me. So not wanting to disappoint Robert, although for most of the exchanges we used to have on the soapbox, I got the feeling that he was plenty disappointed in me already, I agreed to meet him.
As you probably know I’m a Hasselblad shooter and as a hot dog portrait photographer I also have the newest and greatest toys that keep popping out of the Japanese factories in China every week. So yeah, I have the Nikon D200 and yeah, it’s everything they say it is. I figure this would be the perfect time to break it in and what better place that at a volcano 100,000 feet up in Paradise.
So I meet Robert at 4 in the morning (yes, I said 4 in the morning) at our agreed upon location and proceed to take his rental car up to the top of the mountain. Robert is far too cheery for this early in the morning and I figured he must be drunk, but as it turns out he’s just a happy guy. That’s one strike against him already.
When we finally arrive at the top of the mountain I get out, grab the D200, and proceed to look for a good location. He meanwhile drags this big suitcase from the trunk and lugs it over to me. He bends down, opens it up, and I see these cardboard bellows. I think, oh God, don’t tell me there’s some tradition in Hawaii that you have to play Polka Music to the gods while the sun comes up. Hawaii’s a very spiritual place and with many strange traditions here. Even the whole aloha thing can be confusing, because after a few drinks you don’t know if you’re coming or going, but that’s another story.
I think to myself, that I’m thankful we aren’t on some hill in Scotland and he wants play that thing that sounds like a bunch of cats gang raping a porcupine. But he lugs the thing out and I see he’s got one of those cameras that look like it belonged to Mathew Brady’s grandfather. He says proudly, what do you think? I smile sheepishly and give him the thumbs up.
I feel embarrassed for the guy, cause if I knew he didn’t have any money, I’d have let him take the D200 for a spin. The place is teeming with people believe it or not, and I sort of distance myself away from him while he snaps the thing together. When I say people I’m using the term metaphorically. It’s a bunch of nuts and granola types (heavy on the nuts) wearing Birkenstocks and tie-dyed parkas. The temperature up here on this bloody mountain in Paradise is barely above freezing, which compounds my wondering what the fuck I’m doing here. But I kind of mingle with the New Agers, careful to not make any eye contact in case they want to engage in some type of monosyllabic conversation. I look back at Robert and he has the antique all set up on a tripod, placed a blanket over the back, and is proceeding to flip it up and stick his head under. He looks like he’s about to do a pap smear or something. I’m just waiting for him to pull his head out and exclaim, “Congratulation, IT’S A BOY”
So I’m wandering around, trying to contain my excitement at this whole sunrise thing, and starting to feel a little lightheaded. I’d like to blame it on the attitude but the air is thick with the same smell that used to waft out of any 1968 Volkswagon Magic MicroBus that you had the misfortune to stand near. I feel like I magically landed at the Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon and Peyote Festival. I know one thing, there’s nobody here suffering from the effects of Chemo today.
I slide over to the mouth of the crater (volcano) and peer in. The song Great Balls of Fire starts playing in my head, so I pull my legs together and hope I didn’t do anything to piss off the Goddess Haleakala. SURPRISE……. Ha Ha.Bang you’re toast. I’m not sure if Haleakala is a goddess or not, but right now she is to me.
Slowly a great cheer goes up and I look back as the sun pops it’s head over the marine layer clouds and greets the great stoned masses. It’s sort of a tradition in Hawaii to clap and cheer the sunrises and sunsets. I’ve done my share of cheering the sunsets during happy hour so I generally leave the sunrises to someone else. One person can’t be expected to do it all.
I grab up the D200 fire off 13 shots in less than two seconds and look for Robert so we can get the hell out of here. New Agers are generally really slow drivers and I’ve got an appointment with Leilani for a massage at 10 o’clock on the beach. Now Leilani is the vision of the elegance and grace that eminates from the Hawaiian people, except that I think she’s Samoan. The reason I think that is because her knuckles drag on the ground. Now for most people that may be a bit of a handicap but for a masseuse it can be an asset. She is able to stand up while I’m laying in the sand and still give me a great massage without bending over. No heavy massage table for her, to lug around.
So I’ve got Leilani on my mind and there’s Robert leisurely sliding film in and out of the
old accordian, having the time of his life. I wander over and tell him that I’ve already got the pictures and if he wants I’ll send him a copy. He say’s he just got a few shots to go and so I tell him I’ll meet him at the car.
Well to make a long story short, I made it to the beach and Leilani, and by noon I was completely wasted, my baby at my side, laying in the Hawaiian sun ordering fu-fu drinks from the pool bar.
Oh yeah, for some reason the D200 malfunctioned at that altitude and the flash didn’t go off so my pictures were completely black. Luckily, I was able to fixed them in photoshop. I never did get to see Robert’s. But really, how good could they be. He shot them with an accordian.
PS. If you ask him real nice maybe he’ll post one.
Michael
So somehow Robert (roteague) found out we were coming over and emailed me and said we should go to Haleakala and photograph the sun coming up. Well in my opinion if God had wanted us to be photographing sunrises he would have made them later in the day, but hey, that’s just me. So not wanting to disappoint Robert, although for most of the exchanges we used to have on the soapbox, I got the feeling that he was plenty disappointed in me already, I agreed to meet him.
As you probably know I’m a Hasselblad shooter and as a hot dog portrait photographer I also have the newest and greatest toys that keep popping out of the Japanese factories in China every week. So yeah, I have the Nikon D200 and yeah, it’s everything they say it is. I figure this would be the perfect time to break it in and what better place that at a volcano 100,000 feet up in Paradise.
So I meet Robert at 4 in the morning (yes, I said 4 in the morning) at our agreed upon location and proceed to take his rental car up to the top of the mountain. Robert is far too cheery for this early in the morning and I figured he must be drunk, but as it turns out he’s just a happy guy. That’s one strike against him already.
When we finally arrive at the top of the mountain I get out, grab the D200, and proceed to look for a good location. He meanwhile drags this big suitcase from the trunk and lugs it over to me. He bends down, opens it up, and I see these cardboard bellows. I think, oh God, don’t tell me there’s some tradition in Hawaii that you have to play Polka Music to the gods while the sun comes up. Hawaii’s a very spiritual place and with many strange traditions here. Even the whole aloha thing can be confusing, because after a few drinks you don’t know if you’re coming or going, but that’s another story.
I think to myself, that I’m thankful we aren’t on some hill in Scotland and he wants play that thing that sounds like a bunch of cats gang raping a porcupine. But he lugs the thing out and I see he’s got one of those cameras that look like it belonged to Mathew Brady’s grandfather. He says proudly, what do you think? I smile sheepishly and give him the thumbs up.
I feel embarrassed for the guy, cause if I knew he didn’t have any money, I’d have let him take the D200 for a spin. The place is teeming with people believe it or not, and I sort of distance myself away from him while he snaps the thing together. When I say people I’m using the term metaphorically. It’s a bunch of nuts and granola types (heavy on the nuts) wearing Birkenstocks and tie-dyed parkas. The temperature up here on this bloody mountain in Paradise is barely above freezing, which compounds my wondering what the fuck I’m doing here. But I kind of mingle with the New Agers, careful to not make any eye contact in case they want to engage in some type of monosyllabic conversation. I look back at Robert and he has the antique all set up on a tripod, placed a blanket over the back, and is proceeding to flip it up and stick his head under. He looks like he’s about to do a pap smear or something. I’m just waiting for him to pull his head out and exclaim, “Congratulation, IT’S A BOY”
So I’m wandering around, trying to contain my excitement at this whole sunrise thing, and starting to feel a little lightheaded. I’d like to blame it on the attitude but the air is thick with the same smell that used to waft out of any 1968 Volkswagon Magic MicroBus that you had the misfortune to stand near. I feel like I magically landed at the Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon and Peyote Festival. I know one thing, there’s nobody here suffering from the effects of Chemo today.
I slide over to the mouth of the crater (volcano) and peer in. The song Great Balls of Fire starts playing in my head, so I pull my legs together and hope I didn’t do anything to piss off the Goddess Haleakala. SURPRISE……. Ha Ha.Bang you’re toast. I’m not sure if Haleakala is a goddess or not, but right now she is to me.
Slowly a great cheer goes up and I look back as the sun pops it’s head over the marine layer clouds and greets the great stoned masses. It’s sort of a tradition in Hawaii to clap and cheer the sunrises and sunsets. I’ve done my share of cheering the sunsets during happy hour so I generally leave the sunrises to someone else. One person can’t be expected to do it all.
I grab up the D200 fire off 13 shots in less than two seconds and look for Robert so we can get the hell out of here. New Agers are generally really slow drivers and I’ve got an appointment with Leilani for a massage at 10 o’clock on the beach. Now Leilani is the vision of the elegance and grace that eminates from the Hawaiian people, except that I think she’s Samoan. The reason I think that is because her knuckles drag on the ground. Now for most people that may be a bit of a handicap but for a masseuse it can be an asset. She is able to stand up while I’m laying in the sand and still give me a great massage without bending over. No heavy massage table for her, to lug around.
So I’ve got Leilani on my mind and there’s Robert leisurely sliding film in and out of the
old accordian, having the time of his life. I wander over and tell him that I’ve already got the pictures and if he wants I’ll send him a copy. He say’s he just got a few shots to go and so I tell him I’ll meet him at the car.
Well to make a long story short, I made it to the beach and Leilani, and by noon I was completely wasted, my baby at my side, laying in the Hawaiian sun ordering fu-fu drinks from the pool bar.
Oh yeah, for some reason the D200 malfunctioned at that altitude and the flash didn’t go off so my pictures were completely black. Luckily, I was able to fixed them in photoshop. I never did get to see Robert’s. But really, how good could they be. He shot them with an accordian.
PS. If you ask him real nice maybe he’ll post one.
Michael