The Last Swim of Summer

I adore summer, but for many years it was not my favorite season, possibly even my least favorite. Now that I'm free of the looming threat of school and physically in better condition the I have been since sixth grade, summer is a too-short extravaganza of late evening walks, farmers markets, and river visits.

So when September gave us a few days of over one hundred degree weather, I jumped at the opportunity to visit Bridgeport for a final swim. The day was surprisingly calm, the air hanging heavy in the canyon as we curved our way down towards the Yuba. Air conditioner off, windows down, letting the heat prepare us for the water.

The cicadas were out in full force, their buzzing a constant background as we parked and walked down through the shady woods and out to the river.

We'd gotten here a little later in the day then usual, and found our favorite spot was taken by seemingly the only other people there, so we moved to a small strip of sand down stream and settled in. Swimming up and down the river, exploring alcoves and inlets and startling a roosting mallard. 

Frogs were everywhere, you could hear them plopping into the water whenever you approached the rivers edge, their startled cries sounding more like kittens then amphibians. But they were considerably less bold then their mountain cousins, and try as I might I was not able to catch one willing to stay still long enough for a picture.

After swimming for a couple hours we packed up and moved, finding a willow-sheltered bank to investigate and photograph. I've been experimenting with perspective shots lately, finding tiny worlds when I lower  my camera to well below eye level. I'm often surprised by what ends up in frame in those shots.

I was reluctant to leave, knowing that this would be the last day of the year I spent splashing and swimming through the Yuba. Even if we get a heat wave in October, the sun is not in the sky long enough to warm the river water. 

I stood in the sunlit waters and lowered my camera till I could feel the river graze the back of my hands. I angled it down slightly and let it find it's own focus. Then I moved further away, into one of the small, overgrown streams that feed the Yuba. The grasses and duckweed created little aquatic landscapes, an old cicada skin clung to one stem, looking like an alien carapace. 

The paths were quiet, no families or couples with the kids at school, just crickets and cicadas and dry, still heat. The air was dusty and scented with the beginning of fall. The walnuts and blackberries changing first, bright exclamations of yellow and scarlet among a deeper green.

We left the river slowly, taking Bitney Springs back home, to see the late summer vineyards and rolling hills drenched in sunlight, tired in that way you can only achieve from swimming against currents and propelling yourself under water. We'll be back again soon, I"m sure, but not like this, not till next year. 

Next post will be a summary of the last few walks we took at Independence Trail and Empire Mine. With some praying mantis guests as well. 

Bridgeport in Late Summer

I've been wanting to catch the sunset at Bridgeport, in South Yuba River State Park for some time, so after a visit with my mom and grandma, The Man and I headed down Pleasant Valley Road, off Highway Twenty towards the end of golden hour. The drive isn't terribly long, but the road twists and turns it's way down into the river canyon, and is just long enough to start making you carsick, if you are the kind of person who that happens to (and I am). If you continue, the road will take you to French Corral, one of the first mining camps to spring up along the the San Juan River Channel. There's a Wells Fargo built in 1850 and a few remnants of a once more inhabited town.

We parked off the road and  walked down trail through warm forests of cottonwood and willow and out to the river.

It was quiet, once school starts the activity at the river stills to a normal pace. Crickets, frogs, and late evening birdsong filled the air, Elusive fish vied for insects, sending tiny ripples across the still, deep stretch of the waters.

I set up my tripod and got to work, while The Man explored, and from the distant splash I heard, took a swim. I was trying out a new filter, and got a few images that I thought captured a very nice warm glow.

I think if I had fiddled with the ISO more it would have resulted in a less saturated, golden green color, but I rather liked it, so I took a few shots facing westward at different exposures then made the above composite image. I'm in the process of teaching myself how to do that, so it's not perfect, but I'm still glad I did it.

The sun was sinking fast, but the hills in the east were still saturated in light, with the moon rising beyond. The birds had begun to quiet, only a few distant calls as they settled into their nests and boughs.

We were making our reluctant way out when my husband spotted a single deer, foraging among the rocks a short distance from us. A quick lens change and we settled back in to watch the creature make it's way past us and towards the water.

Heading back out again, we stopped for a moment to speak among an area of low hanging wild grape vines, making the section of trail almost tunnel like. As we stood there, bats began to descend from the branches, swooping down and around us and through the cavern-like path, out into the clearing beyond. They flew so close we could feel the wind from them at times, and one even flew between us, only inches from our faces. We stood quiet still in the moonlit forest and let the colony fly past, then followed them out into the open air and back to our car. 

The next batch of images are ready to go, so hopefully I can get the next post up in less then a week, but I've now probably jinxed myself. I've got a couple opportunities to sell my pictures available, and the novel is always pulling at my brain and distracting me from eating and sleeping. Writing here is an incredible relief, because I don't have to make anything up. Creating a world from the ground up (or from the starstuff of the universe and out) makes my brain feel like a pancake at times, and photography gives me a break from worry over that and my regular work.

Thanks for reading, next post we're back into the mountains for round two with the sand pond and Sardine Lakes, as well as a beautiful visit to an aspen surrounded meadow.