Earth Day, 2015

Yesterday morning I rose with the sun and hit the trail with no particular destination in mind. I had no agenda, just purpose. My only goal was to breathe and be present in the surroundings, honoring the beauty that can only be seen after knowing hardship (see yesterday's post). I ended up hiking roughly 18 miles with a full pack, pausing periodically to look around and absorb the solitude. On my way home I stopped to take a photo of the valley from a spot known as "The Perch" - just a simple, expansive view of what lies out my back door and beyond. It was a good day to reflect and appreciate the gifts of the natural world.

From Ashes to Adventure, One Year in this Big Giant Life

April 22, 2015

April 22, Earth Day, will always hold a significant memory for me. It was on this day in 2013 that my path was forever changed, the day I tragically lost my home, possessions and beloved pet in a house fire. A strong reminder of how quickly life can change and resonant with symbolism, it was a moment that I could not allow to define me. Despite the devastating loss, I was determined to count my blessings, move forward, and somehow grow from the whole experience. The support I received, both financial and emotional, was simply overwhelming. In my opinion, true wealth can only be measured by the quality of one’s life and personal relationships. Throughout the following summer, as I was cleaning and salvaging what few items survived the fire, I took a series of photographs to see the destruction in a creative light and face the pain head-on. The image here, the blooming iris in front of the burned out structure, served to remind me that beauty abounds even in the darkest of times.

Among the many ensuing life lessons, I learned that material possessions are just that - nothing more than dispensable material, which, ironically end up possessing you. The toughest part was, and still is, losing my cat. As I tribute to my best friend, I had his paw print tattooed on my shoulder and left his ashes in India where we saw our first tiger. In a sense, he set me free to explore and follow my life’s purpose, the least I could do was set his spirit free in the land of the big cats.

You might say I had to lose everything in order to discover my true self. Once I began to accept the fact that the home and life I once knew were gone, I opened up to the idea of traveling. Over the next year I spent five months overseas, exploring and creating. Life became a series of new adventures and photographic pursuits. The worst experience I’ve ever gone through, in the long run, may prove to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I wrote the following piece in 2014, while I was finishing my three-month journey in New Zealand. Give it a read if you are inclined, you might find a bit of inspiration in what I have to say. On that note, I am going out on the trails, this seems like a good day to explore, create, and reflect on the intrinsic beauty that surrounds us every day.

From Ashes to Adventure, One Year in this Big Giant Life:

Once again, I find myself crossing the Pacific and reflecting on a recent adventure that has opened my eyes and altered my course going forward, and I am struggling to organize my thoughts into some sort of articulate passage. Over the past week, as I was contemplating my final days in New Zealand and looking back on this last year, it occurred to me that I was lacking emotion, which left me at a loss for words. My creative energy is driven by emotions - good or bad, happy or sad, I express myself through creativity. When I am emotionally flat I do not create. Even in solitude I couldn’t find my voice, though I had much to say. Quite often the most difficult part of writing is just getting the first line, once that has been laid down it seems to flow.

Weighing most heavily on my mind in recent days was the anniversary of a fateful event that changed everything. April 22, Earth Day, marked one year since I awoke to smoke alarms and narrowly escaped a fire that destroyed my home and life, as I knew it. I do not intend to write a heartbreaking account here; I only wish to reflect on a significant event in my life and the year that followed. Beyond the initial shock of losing my home, possessions and beloved cat Spike, I soon realized that I no longer had my own personal space. I am a social being but I also need solitude and time to check in with myself, deal with myself, and be myself. I had grown accustomed to living alone in the woods where I could listen to music at any volume or take time to stretch and meditate when I felt the need. In summertime I had a garden that I tended to every day, wildflowers and strawberries grew outside my windows, and a creek flowed through the back of the property. It was nothing luxurious, but Spike and I had a quality of life that many dream of and others couldn’t comprehend. Our culture is so focused on obtaining financial wealth that it has become the only measure of success, rather than quality of relationships, health, or personal wellbeing. When I could step out my back door, play my guitar and listen to the stream flowing past, I didn’t need anything more; I was the luckiest person alive and filled with gratitude. Suddenly it was all gone, reduced to a pile of smoldering ash and rubble. Once the blaze was more or less extinguished, firefighters searched the basement only to return with my lifeless companion wrapped in a towel.

We all experience loss throughout our lives; defining moments where we are faced with the choice to either grow, thereby gaining wisdom and strength, or to regress. For me there was no question, I had to move forward, continue to count my blessings and find meaning in the tragedy, though it was, and still is, difficult. Fortunately, I have wonderful friends who opened their homes to me, donated money, clothing and other necessities (I had four guitars given to me within the first week) and did whatever they could to help get me back on my feet. But finding physical space just to stretch my body, let alone solitude to meditate or play guitar, became a challenge. With time and effort, I began to find my personal space in various places and came to realize that finding solitude and peace, like happiness, is a conscious choice. Not only was I able to achieve peaceful states of mind, but my creativity was reinvigorated as well.

Already in the midst of seeking employment and now without a home (though not homeless in the true sense as I always had friends who would take me in), it occurred just how quickly things can change. Change, after all, is the only true constant in life and after examining the situation from a different angle, it became clear that I no longer had anything tying me down. I was, for better or worse, free - free from paying rent or living a daily grind. Sometimes the universe gives us a less-than-subtle sign that we are meant to follow a different path - a swift kick in the ass, if you will. It took time, but I began to see this loss as an opportunity to travel, seek new experience and reinvent myself. I suppose the logical thing to do would have been to pool my resources, find a new place to rent and continue my job search, but that sort of logic left me long ago. Instead, I opted to move my newly acquired (donated) furniture and other items into storage, live out of my tent for much of the summer, and join a friend on a seven-week photographic expedition throughout Asia beginning in October. I would return in December - not the best time of year to search for employment or a place to live in Alaska. Then it struck me: Why not leave again, this time for the winter? Having family ties in New Zealand, it was the logical choice. This, and the fact that it is a widely sought destination by varieties of travelers - thrill seekers and tour bus types alike. Throughout the rest of the summer and into autumn I worked whenever I could, dealt with the long and arduous insurance claim process, and planned my travels.

Before I knew it, summer had passed and I was on a flight to Thailand. There were a number of issues leaving California and a minor glitch in Tokyo, causing me to arrive a couple days late but that’s another story. I chalked it up to being part of the adventure and before long, being in a foreign culture and living on the road began to feel like home. There I was, going places I never thought I’d go, seeing things I’d always wanted to see, and immersing myself in creativity. I explored ancient temples, savored local cuisines and swam on beautiful beaches but the pinnacle of all this was, without a doubt, photographing and exploring India. With its radiant culture and exotic wildlife, the creative possibilities were endless and I left with a collection of timeless images of people, architecture, wild Bengal tigers and more.

Returning from Asia in the dead of winter, I felt out of place. I had become comfortable traveling and longed to be back out there, exploring and creating. I had six weeks stateside to reorganize and finalize my plans for New Zealand between freelance work and visiting family over the holidays. Time flew by and once again, I was heading south, crossing the equator for the first time in my life and bound for adventure in far away places. Determined to stay as long as I was allowed with a tourist visa – 90 days, I enrolled in the WWOOF program (Willing Workers On Organic Farms), where I would live with host families and work on farms, vineyards and organic gardens in exchange for room and board. I was going to truly experience this mythical island nation by living with locals and spending three months of my life there, saving time for my own adventures between farm gigs.

New Zealand was a different type of journey, more physically demanding yet not as exotic as Asia in the cultural sense. I found that most of the people I met were generally like-minded, and though we live in opposite hemispheres, our lifestyles aren’t all that different. What the Kiwis do cherish is an amazing quality of life and respect for their land, unmatched anywhere else I have been aside from Norway. For me, New Zealand was a chance to let go of beliefs that stood in the way of my moving forward on this new path. So, three months later, suntanned and clothes fitting a bit more loosely, I am on my way home from New Zealand with a renewed sense of adventure and enthusiasm. It seems all I lost along the way were some deep-seated fears and a few extra pounds. To live in the moment and be spontaneous, to travel without being impeded by preconceived notions of what my physical or mental strength will allow, is all I truly sought and I will continue to explore the earth, sharing my experiences as I go. I would rather live hand to mouth, creating images that live on longer than I will than earn a living producing mediocrity. Quite often the universe shines on me, presenting unique and wonderful opportunities. My gift, you might say, lies in conveying the mood, which is the most important element in photography. Without mood, all you have is a nice picture, not an artful photograph. Art is fluid, art does not stand still, the moments I capture are presented to me and I do not own them. When I create, I do not think of myself as the primary audience, I want to share my work in the hopes that it might evoke an emotion in somebody or make some small difference in their day.

I feel I didn’t do enough exploring in my younger years, something I used to regret. I never backpacked across Europe or studied overseas. Looking back, I am glad I waited until my 40’s; I see the world through different eyes now. I accept, own and love all the ups and downs in life, the challenges I’ve faced, everything that has made me into the person I am today and gotten me to where I am right now, right here in this moment. In order to truly open up to new experiences, I had to let go of long held beliefs regarding my physical tolerance of extensive traveling, such as sitting for long periods on airplanes, trains and busses, constantly being on the move and toting luggage and camera gear everywhere. A back injury I acquired fifteen years ago left me with years of chronic discomfort and ensuing surgery; and muscles and nerves filled with painful memories. If you’ve ever experienced long-term injury or chronic pain, you will understand how it consumes your thoughts and overshadows your entire life. After years of intense focus, routine stretching and strengthening, acupuncture and body work, I have been able to break through knotted muscles and release much of what was stored in my tissues, replacing those painful memories with a renewed sense of adventure, excitement and openness. As with any type of trauma, physical or emotional, healing is a journey, not a destination. It is an ongoing process that requires perseverance, and it has brought me to the realization that the only limitations I faced were those I had put on myself, those that I chose to believe.

Returning to Alaska, this time in the middle of spring, I face a lot of uncertainty. At times I revel in the unknown and the freedom it holds, other days it is less appealing. Currently, I have no long-term plans - such a drastic change from the college bound, focused and logical person I was twenty years ago. At some point I suppose I was led astray, or shown the light, depending on how you look at it. In either case, despite earlier attempts at building a professional career, I somehow chose to think outside the box and pursue a life that was more meaningful, thus foregoing the financial stability of having a “real job.” Now at age 41, I think I finally am what I’m going to be when I grow up, whatever that means.

And there you have it, from ashes to adventure, opportunity borne out of tragedy, one year in this big giant life. A year of loss, sorrow and heartache followed by adventure, growth, enlightenment and magic. For those of you who don't believe that magic is real, I will tell you that it is, in fact, the only thing that is real.

Colin Tyler Bogucki 

Explore New Zealand: Adventure Down Under →

Friends,

Please mark your calendars!! I will be presenting my "New Zealand: Adventure Down Under" program on Thursday, June 11, 6 pm at REI in Anchorage. Please share the event with your friends and also help my page reach the next milestone of 900 likes! Click the title above to pre-register, there is no fee but seating is limited. I hope to see you there!
Cheers mates!

Dances with Swans →

It seems that the pair of trumpeter swans that has been hanging around the Eagle River Nature Center has moved on, probably northward to better nesting grounds. In the two and a half weeks they were here, I spent countless hours with them and am grateful for the quality time we had together and the beautiful opportunities they presented. I have gathered my favorite moments into this collection, appropriately titled "Dances with Swans." Enjoy...

One final aurora image from last weekend along with the story behind the photo:

Aurora borealis mixed with clouds and predawn sky from Echo Bend, Eagle River Nature Center. This is the last image I created during my all-night aurora adventure last weekend.

The expedition began at the viewing decks just before midnight but was cut short when clouds rolled in from the west. It was apparent that my best chance at success lie further up the valley, chasing the lights and clear skies to the southeast. Before embarking, I ran back to the visitor center (where I live) to swap my rubber boots for hikers, grab a bit more food and brew another cup of tea. I packed a radio in case of emergency and a can of pepper spray - the bears have most certainly risen from winter slumber by now. The first location I stopped to shoot from is a place I had scoped out as a possibility for sunrise photos, a little off the beaten path with a nice view of the open valley and surrounding mountains. Shortly after setting up, the sky erupted in a multitude of colors and dancing beams of light. This was the most intense, albeit short-lived, portion of the display.

With the aurora subsiding and clouds closing in on me, I resumed the three-mile trek out to Echo Bend. I could see the sky was continuing to cloud up but since I was more than halfway to my destination, I decided to continue and if nothing else, get out of the thick forest and onto the open riverbed. It was a dark, moonless night after all and I was alone and unarmed in the heart of bear country. Arriving at the river I could see a good distance in all directions, which was somewhat comforting. With the skies socked in and no visible auroras, I kicked aside rocks and cleared a small area on the gravel bar to lie down and rest, hoping the clouds would pass.

Within an hour the skies began to clear and I rose from the cold ground, shook off the chill and set up to shoot over a small pool with a nice reflection. The resulting image is unique representation of a familiar scene and possibly the culmination of a three-week creative burst that began with a beautiful sunrise and a pair of swans.

Once it was light enough to find the trail without my headlamp I made my way home, walking in the door shortly after 7 am and feeling completely invigorated with the sense of satisfaction that only comes from complete physical and mental exhaustion after accomplishing a personal goal. Throughout the night I kept reminding myself that, should I ever begin to question my direction in life, just remember that I am alone in a beautiful mountain valley in the middle of the night, chasing auroras and sleeping on a riverbed in grizzly bear country, I am right where I need to be.

Spring Aurora

No image can convey the experience of witnessing the aurora borealis firsthand, but I hope this helps put into perspective just how intense the display was this past Saturday morning. This was taken with a wide-angle lens; the view is roughly equivalent to the human eye. Imagine looking directly overhead and seeing this across the entire sky, the lights converging into a corona directly over Polaris, the North Star, and shooting literally hundreds of miles into the atmosphere.

Perspective

I truly believe that seeing the world from the perspective of your subject is paramount to creating intimate portraits of wildlife.

More April Aurora

No matter how many times I witness the aurora borealis, it's always awe-inspiring. When the intensity reaches this level, I swear you can feel the electricity. This was taken around 2 am yesterday morning, during the peak of the display, before I hiked further up the valley and shot until daybreak.

Meeting the New Neighbors

Between the trumpeter swans, late season auroras and bull moose sprouting new antlers, the opportunities have been plentiful so far this spring in Eagle River Valley. I saw this guy feeding in the creek just a little while ago, one of three I've seen regularly over the past week.

April Auroras

With approximately one month of decent aurora viewing left, the season is winding down until next fall, which is why I had to capitalize on the opportunity last night.

After hiking approximately seven miles between 11 pm and 7 am, shooting from a couple new locations and accidentally walking up on a sleeping moose, I just got in the door from chasing the lights all night long. Around 2 am the sky exploded with red, green and purple, forming what was the best coronal display I’ve seen in quite a while. I know I’ll be dragging today, but it’s a small price to pay for being able witness and capture this phenomenon. Besides, everybody should pull an all-nighter once in a while; it keeps a person feeling young. 

Swan Photo of the Day

I had a brief visit with the swans this morning as I had to be to work in the visitor center at 10 am. The sunlight hadn’t come around the mountain yet and I was running short on time when I saw this image line up. The mountains across the valley were glowing in the sunshine, casting a golden reflection on the water. I got myself into position just before this swan spread its wings, giving me a parting shot before I had to be on my way.

Today's Smiling Swan Photo

With the number of hours I've spent with these swans over these past couple weeks, not only are they getting used to my presence, I believe they're actually starting to like me. This one looked pretty happy to see me when I showed up today during feeding time. 

Reminiscing on New Zealand

One year ago at Ohau Falls, roughly 25 km outside of Kaikoura, New Zealand. I'd heard about this place where the fur seals take their pups into a freshwater stream and decided to try hitching a ride out there to check it out. I happened to bump into my surf instructor David from my previous visit to Kaikoura, who was kind enough to give me a lift to the seal colony. It took some time and patience crouching on the wet rocks, but eventually this little pup crawled out of hiding to check me out.

Another Morning Swan Session

This pair of trumpeter swans has been here for over two weeks now, allowing me to spend quite a bit of quality time with them. After taking hundreds of photos, the challenge is to consistently come up with something new and innovative. By studying their behavior and combining elements in the surrounding environment, I was able to create a unique composition this morning. 

Happy Easter from Eagle River Valley

Once again, I began the day with solitude and swans and cannot, for the life of me, think of a more positive way to spend a morning. For three hours I watched this pair feeding and preening themselves; waiting for the light, the scene, the perfect opportunity to present itself to capture the image I had in my mind’s eye. With the amount of time I’ve spent observing and photographing these two recently, I am beginning to recognize behavioral patterns and anticipate situations, thus placing myself in the right position for moments like these.

Total Lunacy

After a sunny afternoon of spring skiing in Girdwood, I decided to hang around Turnagain Arm yesterday to photograph the moonrise over the Chugach Mountains. Good thing I did, because I would later come up empty-handed from chasing the lunar eclipse. After driving home, unloading my gear and dragging my aching body into bed, I barely caught two hours of much needed sleep before my alarm woke me. I pulled myself together, grabbed my camera bag and hit the trail with a hot cup of tea in hand. I hiked out about a mile to shoot the eclipse, only to watch clouds roll in and hide the moon after I set up. C'est la vie, it was a nice night for a sleepwalk through the forest.

This is how I prefer to spend my mornings...

I like to start my day with swans - no news stories, no list of tasks to accomplish, no pressure - just swans. This pair of trumpeters arrived more than a week ago; whether they will continue northward or nest here remains to be seen. I’ve been watching them nearly every day and rather than pursuing, I’ve waited for the right light, the right situation, the right feeling for another photo session. 

Shortly after arriving this morning, with nobody else in sight, the swans floated down the creek in my direction and preened themselves in the shallow pool right in front of me. They didn’t seem the least bit startled as I made my way to the water’s edge, knelt down and began to photograph. After spending some quality time with me they swam away, going about their routine uninterrupted and I continued on my way, feeling a sense of calm.

My little friend, the northern saw whet owl, poked his head out to greet me again today...

Another day, another owl encounter - this time with better lighting!

Sunrise over Lake Dunstan, Cromwell, New Zealand

Feeling a bit nostalgic this morning, reflecting on my time New Zealand and remembering where I was at one year ago today. After scrolling through my journal I discovered that on March 30, 2014, I was nearing the end of my time living and working (WWOOFing) at Aurum Wines in Cromwell, Central Otago. Most mornings when I woke I would grab my camera & tripod and run down to this spot right here, my little sanctuary on the shore of Lake Dunstan, where I would find solitude to photograph the sunrise and return in the evening to play my guitar.