Getting back on the trail has been a slow process over the last four days, but with patience, I'm confident that hill will be conquered. One of the good things to come out of the experience is the opportunity to spend a little more time in places that I've normally just breezed past. The distances covered art not nearly as long, and the pace is certainly slower. That's not all bad since it gives the opportunity to see a little more, to linger a little longer, and if I'm lucky, get in a few more photos.
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| Severn River - Looking North |
This morning dawned crisp and clear. The sun was shining, and the weather, though a bit nippy was about as good as could be hoped for in Maryland during the month of February. I was hoping to capture some shots of the river iced over this year, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. We'll see how it plays out, but there is always next year.
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| Baltimore-Annapolis Boulevard Bridge - Severn River |
A friend of mine noted that the calm wind didn't make for very good sailing weather, and she's not wrong about that aspect of the morning. I like the calm. The photos are better because of the reflections off the surface of the water, and it would be a glorious (though bracing) day for water skiing. I'll have to share the tale of water skiing naked behind under the Hathaway Bridge someday. Today is not that day.
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| Abandoned Boat Slips - Severn River |
Now that the days are getting longer and the sun is setting earlier, sunrises on the weekends are getting a bit harder to capture. I'm up in time, but have other commitments so early morning lighting will be what's on the menu until next fall. Perhaps I'll catch a few dawns while on travel.
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| Crossing the Baltimore-Annapolis Boulevard Bridge |
The play of the sky and the water make the quality of light here in Annapolis a thing that competes with the best areas of southern Europe on the Mediterranean. One day, I hope to see these vistas from much, much higher up.
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| Hospital Point on the Severn River |
The walk took me a little farther than I had planned, and my foot felt the burn. I'm pretty sure I didn't overdo things too much, but the freedom of the trail was calling, and pushing things just a bit seemed like it was worth a bit of discomfort. The morning ended my time on the trail, and that gave me the freedom to spend the sunset in a slightly different manner than has been my ambulatory habits of the past.
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| Sunset on Spa Creek |
It takes some patience and a warm hat to fully experience the dying of a day. The warm hat is probably optional, but it proved to be an experience enhancing addition today.
From the time this picture was taken, till the time the charcoal gray of the night sky had chased the warmth to the western horizon took just under an hour. I spend that time on the Eastport Bridge, looking west, and the experience is something that I think I'd like to repeat. I saw at least a dozen airplanes stream past. Their icy contrails were turned into orange fire as the refracted rays of the setting sun glinted off their lines in the sky. Like slowly moving meteors, the scribed their path to points south.
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| Spa Creek Sunset |
As the blue of the sky faded to indigo, I saw duck and geese fly past with the bellies painted pink by the setting sun. As the death of the day unfolded, I was the only one on the bridge watching it happen. Cars rushed past behind me, and a large number of walkers stopped to snap a few shots. Time slowed down, and the distractions were easy to ignore. I don't get this kind of experience from watching an hour of television. Getting outside and seeing things happen at their natural pace is the only thing that makes me really want to come back and try to describe what it's like. The words are inadequate. The air was cool and the light breeze kept things antiseptic and not very nourishing. I actually loved the peppery heft that the man with the cigar brought to the scene. The fullness of that moment was fleeting as the breeze whisked it away up the creek. A couple of lovers stopped to canoodle up a few paces toward Eastport. A bit of hugging and a nuzzle or two, and they moved on inspired to come together but now stay for the end.
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| Nightfall on Spa Creek |
The inky sky marched westward, and the charcoal blackness of night followed close at its heels. When I finally saw the last rays of the dying day slip below the horizon I turned to my car and walked back across the bridge with Jerry Macker. He's the best bass player in the state of Maryland according to his account anyway. He's certainly fallen on hard times, but it was great to make his acquaintance at the end of the day. He told me to look for him downtown this summer, and that he'd make every effort to play at the Eastport vs. Annapolis tug-o-war tournament. I'll look for him there. Meeting him and making the connection, however brief, was the gift of the day as it receded into history.
