A few years ago I took an assignment to travel around Pennsylvania photo documenting several covered bridges. Joan and I cruised the state while the fall foliage was at its’ peak. It was one of the more enjoyable jobs I’ve worked on. Most of the bridges were very well known but a few were obscure, back road places I’d never see before. After we finished the assignment I decided to go back a few weeks later to sketch and paint some of my favorites, discovered during the trip. This is an acrylic painting I did of the Josiah Hess Bridge located in Columbia County. It spans the Huntington Creek and was built in 1875. It was a difficult bridge to photograph and paint. Here’s a funny little back-story that took place on this shoot. To get the best view of this bridge you need to make your way downstream a few hundred feet. The creek sides are heavily wooded with steep banks offering little footing, so it’s necessary to wade in the creek. At the time I was taking the photos the water was running high and fast. It was a beautiful sunny, very cold, crisp October day. Just as I got to the point where the shot framed well in my viewfinder I took a misstep on an unstable rock coated with slippery moss and sat down, up to my chest, in the stream. Like a good soldier I instinctively raised my arms holding the camera and tripod above the water. Drenched, I finished the shoot and we retreated back to the van. I was freezing. We were parked in a fairly secluded spot off a lightly traveled country road. I stripped down to my shorts and dried off as best I could with a small blanket. One of the convenient things about the Volkswagen van is its’ rear passenger climate controls with separate fans. I spread my wrung out soaked clothes over the back seats with the heat on high and fans going full blast. It was sixty miles to our next location and I hoped they would dry sufficiently by the time we arrived. We set off down the road with me driving sitting on some magazines in my damp undies, a small blanket over my shoulders. J would occasionally hop to the back, turn my clothes and fluff them to encourage drying. Things went smoothly until we came into the Town of Bloomsburg. There as we sat stopped in traffic I noticed a Martz bus full of senior tourists next to us. From their elevated bus view someone had noticed my skimpy attire and a few waved, pointed, laughed and smiled. If nothing else I gave them something to talk about over dinner that night, (naughty old hippies in a VW). By the time we arrived at the next bridge, 90 minutes and three cups of hot coffee later, my clothes were semi-dry and we finished the day without any other mishaps.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Sep 2014 19:32:17 +0000
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