On the Trail with Jerry Luterman
A blog about the journeys of Jerry Luterman, staff photographer of Wisconsin Trails magazine
June 18, 2010
"It’s a long road and a little wheel and it takes a lot of turns to get there."
-Charlie Daniels
Sunset, County Highway ID; Dane County – August 19, 2005
Wisconsin Trails celebrates its fiftieth year with the upcoming publication of our July/August 2010 issue. If I let pride prevail I wouldn’t tell you that the magazine is roughly a year older than I am, but there it is. By most honest accounts, the magazine looks a lot better for it’s age than I do. The issue also marks five years for me as staff photographer for the magazine. My thanks to our readers, advertisers, and my past and present co-workers at Wisconsin Trails and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. As always, my deepest gratitude goes out to the people of Wisconsin, you’ve made this a great fifty for Wisconsin Trails and a great five for me. Now, if you’ve got the time, I’d like to share some of the last five years of my Wisconsin Trails. 
Matthew Smith, "Food for Thought" Rowboat and grass, Camp Mach Kin-O-Siew
Blue Mounds – September 29, 2005 Elcho – August 2, 2006
Few are the guarantees in life. Here is an exception. If someone asks me what I do for a living and I tell him or her that I’m the photographer for Wisconsin Trails, it’s a 100% bona-fide guarantee that they’ll say: "Wow. What a great job." I couldn’t agree more, I feel blessed. Along with this great job have come many new friends, an intimacy with the woods and waters, more than a few challenges and a substantially flattened butt from all the miles I’ve driven. 
Foremost among my blessings have been the people I’ve met along these long roads. Some inspired me with their creativity – like Riana De Raad making art rise off the ground in the middle of nowhere in western Wisconsin, or Rod Clark, editor of Rosebud magazine in Cambridge, overseeing a great literary magazine that gives writers a place to get published. Others have humbled me with their selflessness in service to others. People like Julia Witherspoon who began the Cops N Kids Reading Center in Racine, Gail and Harold Lindebo who’ve planted 20,000 pine trees and set aside a land trust in Ashland County, and Becky Loy who began Camp Hope for Kids outside Rosholt.
Riana De Raad, "Riana's Magic Garden"
Beldenville – May 16, 2006
Rod Clark, Editor, Rosebud Julia Witherspoon, Cops N Kids
Cambridge – September 26, 2008 Racine
Harold & Gail Lindebo, "Land Trusts" Becky Loy, Camp Hope for Kids
Ashland County – March 25, 2007 Rosholt – June 20, 2006
I’ve been fortunate to see the skill of people drawing bounty from the land. Sid Cook of Carr Valley Cheese makes some of the nations’ finest cheese with milk from Wisconsin cows. Dale Marsden "The Bee Hat Man" and his many varieties of locally grown honey are a favorite at the Dane County Farmer’s Market. Paul Hsu came here as a young man from Taiwan, got a dream in his head, and now owns the largest ginseng operation in the nation.
Sid Cook, "The Cheesemakers" Dale Marsden, "Agritourism"
La Valle - January 31, 2007 Madison - October 18, 2009
Paul Hsu, "The Magic Root"; Wausau – June 21, 2006
I’ve also seen people draw an enormous amount of strength and skill from within themselves. When I met Benny Stamm, of Argyle, he was somewhere in his sixties, training himself and his dogs for their third Iditarod. "Celtic Sports" in 2009 introduced me to the young women of the Cashel-Dennehy Irish School of Dance and their amazing agility, timing and the sheer amount of noise they make. I learned of the strength of the Oneida people when I photographed five tribal elders for a story called "Enduring Words." This piece told of the "Voices of Our Elders" project, an Oneida effort to record forever the personal histories, ceremonies, and language of the Oneida people through the video interviews of nearly 500 Oneida tribal elders. 
Benny Stamm, "Iditarod Trailblazer"; Argyle – October 13, 2007
Cashiel–Dennehy School of Irish Dance Gloria & Weldon Hawk, "Enduring Words"
Wauwatosa – January 14, 2009 Oneida Nation – May 25, 2007
Woodrow Wilson Webster, "Enduring Words"; Oneida Nation – May 25, 2007
Two stories in particular have affected me in a profound and long-lasting way. In 2008 I photographed Army Specialist Aaron Fischer for a story called "Coming Home," a piece about Wisconsin veterans of the Iraq War. Aaron had lost two of his best friends in Iraq, and although half my age, his eyes looked older than mine. Even though he was in Wisconsin, he hadn’t quite made it back home yet. To this day, whenever I see a soldier in person or in the media, I think about Aaron and his too-old eyes and the state of ignorant bliss most of us are lucky to live in.
Aaron Fischer, "Coming Home"
Madison – January 9, 2008
The other story involved people twice my age that had endured the unthinkable. In 2006 "Wisconsin’s Holocaust Survivors" introduced me to four residents of Wisconsin who had made it out of one of the most terrible chapters in human history. I did a rare thing by choosing not to read their stories before I made their pictures. I had a sense that if I knew what they’d been through then it might somehow shadow my mind and thereby unfairly darken the images I made of them. I’m glad I made that choice because their pictures showed them all as warm, luminous human beings who had not only survived, but thrived. Not because of the Holocaust, but despite it. It wasn’t until the magazine actually got printed that I read their stories of survival. Then I wept. I wept with sadness and rage over what they had been put through, I wept with joy that they were alive, I wept with gratitude for having met them. If ever I think I’m having a bad day, I turn my eyes inward and I see Wanda Bincer, Erwin Deutsch, Renata Laxova, and Henry Golde. Then, looking outward, I see that it’s not such a bad day after all.
Wanda Bincer Erwin Deutsch
Monona – October 27, 2006 Madison – January 26, 2006
Renata Laxova Henry Gould
Madison – December 20, 2005 Appleton – March 20, 2006
Those folks above are just a few of the many fine people I’ve been lucky enough to share some time with for Wisconsin Trails. There have also been a bunch of kindhearted strangers who’ve helped me with directions, given me a lift when my car broke down, and sometimes just talked with me at a coffee shop. I’m a better person for having met them.
Harvest Hills; Highway 78, Vermont, Wis. – October 18, 2008
Complementing the beauty of the people here is this many-faced land of Wisconsin itself. In five years I’ve been from Washington Island to Madeline Island, to the Illinois, Iowa, Michigan and Minnesota border country and a whole bunch of the in-between. 
George Barnes, Kayaker; Crystal Lake Campground, NHAL State Forest – September 2, 2009
From the northern forest to the tranquil farmlands this place keeps revealing layers of beauty. I’ve photographed sunrise and sunset, moonrise and moonset. I’ve lost count of the number of nights I’ve camped out next to a mirror-surfaced lake. Whatever that number is, it’s never enough. The mosquitoes, ticks, no-see-ums and leeches have all had their way with me, but my payback comes in the call of loons, the smell of pines and the roar of waterfalls. When I’m really lucky I come near to making a picture that is a fraction as beautiful as it was to my eyes. 
Leaves After Rain Sunrise, Lake Superior
Mirror Lake State Park – October 18, 2008 Washburn – June 29, 2007
Horse and Field, Dane County – April 25, 2006
Foster Falls, Iron County – July 27, 2008
There are rough edges to this job, too. Time is never my friend and usually neither are his cousins Distance and Weather. This is a big place and those three beasties are bad enough on their own but when they combine as a dysfunctional family it can make for a frustrating few days for me. I’ve been stranded in whiteouts, rainouts, fogouts, and almost wrecked one night when I hit a quarter mile-long great mother of all bug swarms. I’m at ten flat tires and counting and on the highway outside Janesville I had a softball-sized rock come off a truck and go through my windshield. Add to that the bad stomachs from road food, white line fever from driving too long at night and bad gas station coffee. Then you’ve got bad light, no light, the light is way over there and how-do-I-get-there light. Through some unholy alliance of time and gravity, my camera bag has gotten heavier as my hair has gotten lighter. These are pretty minor league inconveniences but I had to mention them just so you don’t write my bosses and tell them that I should be doing this for free.
Whiteout
Black Earth – February 15, 2006
Pray Autumn
Outside Janesville – April 6, 2007 Racine – October 24, 2005 
Tree and Clouds
Burlington – April 2, 2008
All in all it’s been a long road but a fine one to be on. Thanks for having me. –jer
April 2, 2010
Everyone has his or her own version of heaven. Since no one has reported back from there as yet, we're left with our own assumptions about the place. Some folks assume that it's a place floating up there on the ether, full of puffy clouds and overseen by a bearded divinity. Other folks think it’s a place where we revisit our best memories. I’m not sure what it will be, but I know how I’d like it to start, every day.
In a diner.
Yup,every day. Steak and eggs one morning, corned beef hash and eggs the next. Perfect pancakes with truly bottomless coffee cups. A1 and Louisiana hot sauce always in reach. Pie, lots and lots of pie. Friendly conversations with other friendly patrons and we always tip the waitress (her name is Angel, go figure) real big. No heartburn, no cholesterol, no elevated blood sugar, no worries about impending bikini season.
Until that day comes when I’m a regular at the Pearly Gates Diner I'll have to settle for what's down here. Thanks be that it's not much of a compromise from up there to down here. Last month I got to shoot in three diners that are appearing in the May/June 2010 issue of Wisconsin Trails. My work was good, my rewards much better. My stomach and I thank the Clinton Kitchen in Clinton, Mickies Dairy Bar in Madison, and Frank's Diner in Kenosha.
March 15, 2010
"The people there were gods and midgets and knew themselves mortal and so the midgets walked tall so as not to embarrass the gods and the gods crouched so as to make the small ones feel at home." Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
Last week one of the gods of my life laid down his burden. Growing up I didn't have a father, yet if I had an Indian name it would be Jerry Many Fathers. Big Bob Hamaker was one of those fathers. Bob's sons were in the same scout troop as I was in and that's how I met him. His large, benevolent presence and hearty laugh around the campfire became a fixture for the boys of Troop 28. In seventh grade I broke my kneecap and was put in a full leg cast. A few weeks later, there was a winter scouting event called the Klondike Derby. I can't remember whether I had cabin fever or my mom needed to get me out of the house, but I went with the rest of the troop. I couldn't do anything other than sit with my leg straight out. While the other kids were competing in the winter events, Bob stayed back with me at our site, keeping the fire going and pouring hot chocolate in me. Later on in life, my first car and Bob's bad luck. Bob was a good mechanic and I bought a used '72 Cutlass that had just about everything wrong with it. He fixed that car for me I don't know how many times, never taking a dime. This was a man with six sons of his own and I still don't know how he found the time for me.
In 1983 I was at Columbia College in Chicago, pursuing a photography degree. I had an assignment to find one subject and produce a photographic documentary of them in their environment. I decided to ask Bob and he said yes. He was an oil driver for Union 76. I spent a few days at work with him, taking pictures and seeing a part of this man I hadn't known before. He worked at a facility by himself where he didn't just drive the oil, he hooked up the oil tanks himself, steamed them in winter so they'd flow, and maintained his inventory. I also took some pictures at his home in the garage where he was fixing yet another of my cars. The combination of Bob's presence and the textures and light within his environment made for sound images. During portfolio review at school, everyone pointed to the shots of Bob as best in class. It was a turning point for me, a light shone on something I might actually be good at. Since that shoot with Bob, my best work has always been environmental portraiture. Being able to step into someone's life for a little bit and walk away with something to share with others is the best part of my job. I think that Bob's generosity of time opened that door.
At dusk on some wilderness lake as the wind stilled and color filled the water Bob would look and say "just like glass." As photographer for Wisconsin Trails I'm fortunate to see a lot of lakes at twilight and each time I do I look at the lake's mirrored surface and think of Bob's three simple words and I always say to myself "just like glass, right Mr. H?" Now I think I'll not only hear his words, but I'll see his face reflected in the water.
Bob was a big man, both in size and in heart. As big as he was, he never made anyone feel small. At his wake last week I tried to stand tall as his big sons crouched to bear hug me. Not making me feel small, just like their dad. Thank you Rose, Bobby, David, Paul, Steven, Ronnie and Chris. For sharing.
February 9, 2010
What Nature Tells
In my many miles with Wisconsin Trails I have traveled to some beautiful places and seen some really wonderful things. Sometimes though, the most amazing things happen right under your feet at home. I’m sure many of you started today like I did, lacing up boots and grabbing snow shovels. It looks like the evening and tomorrow morning will be shovel-ready, too. The funny thing is that I think I was shown that it was going to snow a few days before the weathermen got to talking about it. Somehow, through a sequence of events- work, family, football season, sloth in general, I never got around to using the falls’ pumpkins for making pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, or pumpkin muffins. Not even pumpkin seeds. Not jack. Not even Jack O’ Lanterns. They’ve patiently sat outside and frozen solid as bowling balls. Really, really, really hard bowling balls. Trust me, I kicked one mid January and almost broke my foot. Hopping on one foot while holding the other I thought, “No wonder the critters don’t eat them!“ But nature does things in her own time. I normally notice a few tracks around the house, but last week when I walked out in the morning the snow was covered in new tracks. Opossum, raccoon, shrew, squirrel, mouse, they all left tracks in the snow. I mean hundreds and hundreds of tracks. Then I noticed the previously untouched pumpkins. Somehow the animals got into the frozen pumpkins. It was as though Dawn of the Dead had been redone with small zombied-out mammals lurching about moaning “Pumpkins!" instead of “Brains!” As I looked around and took some pictures I thought “I bet we’re gonna have a mother of a snowstorm.“ I’m not a scientist (see above concerning pumpkin kicking in January), but I’m pretty sure the animals waited until they knew the ground was going to be completely snow covered and food would be scarce. Nature always tells us, it’s up to us to listen.
December 22, 2009
Snow falls soft and slow outside my window. Quiet reigns, as if the world has held a finger to its lips and whispered “ shhh.” At Christmas it is these moments I prize most, small pieces in white coated time when my mind is quiet but very aware, able to move forward and back, from this snow now to snows that didn’t fall forty five years ago. My birthday was last week, 48 big ones and for as long as I can remember, I’ve had the same birthday wish: a white Christmas. Some years it didn’t pan out, especially in 1966 when I was a kid down in Louisiana, but for the most part it tends to be white around these parts at the end of December. A few times it’s even been an A#1 King of the North Pole perfect white Christmas with the flakes falling soft and slow at about seven p.m. Christmas Eve and continuing on until Christmas morning. This year a lot of people I know are having a really hard time so I broke tradition and made a birthday wish that was a bit broader and I hope, in some small way, more helpful. Yet in the funny way of things, in a year I didn’t wish for a white Christmas, the snow falls and I smile at the small irony of it. Perhaps there is a cousin to Dickens’ Ghost of Christmas Past named the Ghost of Birthdays Past. And maybe, sooner or later, he settles his birthday wish books. I’d like to think that he opens his books back to December 17, 1966 to an entry that reads: #12171966 Jerry Luterman, birthday wish: white Christmas. That year that boy looked up in vain at a Louisiana sky that refused to snow. Here and now, in this silence of snow I can just about hear his pencil scratching out that outstanding birthday debt and writing in the words “ Paid in full, December, 2009.” God Bless, Merry Christmas, and Happy Hanukkah everyone.
November 24, 2009
It's that week of the year when I start looking for my really warm sweaters, my really warm socks and after Thursday my really big pants. The folks here at work call me a chipmunk because I drop weight effortlessly once spring comes and put it back on with twice as little effort in the fall. Will Rogers said, " I never met a man I didn't like." Me, I never met a Thanksgiving dinner I didn't like. When you spend as much time on the road alone as I do, sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner with the family is a rare treat. There are a lot of blessings to my job but drive thru cuisine isn't one of them. At last count I'm up to 4,123 Quarter Pounders w/cheese (ketchup pickle only) combo meals. Of those, I've dropped 26 cokes in my lap and underneath my seat is the Museum of Lost and Petrified Fries. In a survival situation the fries can be bound together and flung at wild game.
But seriously, it is Thanksgiving and I'd like to say thanks for some things.
Thanks to:
The Everywhere Spirit for all the beauty in this land.
The professionals and volunteers who work hard to keep it that way.
Good light.
That last gas station that is still open. The location varies but I end up there every time.
All my friends in the DNR who for years now have given me immense help during my time with Wisconsin Trails.
The snowplow guys. In my world, Santa doesn't drive a red sleigh, he rocks an orange plow.
The people of the First Nations who have welcomed me onto their lands and into their lives.
All the amazing artists in this state.
The people who thought it would be a good idea to open a coffee shop in the teeny north woods towns.
Mosquito repellant.
Mapquest, DeLorme County Maps, and my GPS and Silva compass.
The warmth and hospitality given to me from the people of Wisconsin.
All the Wisconsin Trails subscribers and advertisers.
The people here at the office that think it's a good idea for me & my camera to be "out there somewhere."
My coworkers at the office who keep things going when I'm " out there somewhere."
Wisconsin Public Radio, good friends for a long drive.
My friends and family.
My wife who tolerates me being on the road so much.
Happy Thanksgiving!
October 2nd, 2009
From the Northwest
Last week I was on the road again, this time to the Northwest. I was shooting stories for the Wisconsin Trails “ Gone For The Weekend “ series, one in Superior, and the other in La Pointe on Madeline Island. I’ve been to Superior many times either for shoots covering the waterfalls or fall color but the enormity of the Big Lake and the scale of the human shipping efforts in Superior still never cease to amaze me.
This trip was a rare treat for me in that I had someone else along for the ride, my old friend Ed Agustine. Ed hadn’t camped since about when Reagan was on Pennsylvania Ave., so it was fun to light a fire, look into the night sky, find the North Star, and share that feeling of wonder. In case you’ve forgot, to find the North Star or Polaris, first locate the Big Dipper, find the outermost two stars in the cup, and draw an imaginary line from them to the last and brightest star in the handle of the little dipper which is the North Star. Facing the dipper, directly in back of you is south, to your right, east, and to your left, west.
Weather was perfect, no bugs, but in the tent at 5 a.m. it was 40°F and I knew that summer has said “ adios amigos.” I was real slow moving in the morning both from the drive and from staying up late taking night pictures. We headed on to Bayfield where I’ve been many times, but I’ve never managed to get on the ferry and onto Madeline Island and the town of La Pointe. After all these years I finally did it, and I highly recommend you do, too. La Pointe is a quirky little island town with an unusual presence and its Indian Cemetery ups the unusual presence up a few notches. Madeline of “ Madeline Island “ is buried here, and for some reason people put coins, rocks, and other things on her gravestone. I wished I’d had time to explore more, but then the rain came and it was time to break camp and hit the road back. In regards to Ed, the whole Wisconsin camping thing must not have scared him off too much seeing as when we got back he ordered about a paychecks’ worth of new gear from REI.
P.S.: See some tips on shooting fall color as I was on WTMJ The Morning Blend: http://themorningblend.com/NewsArticle/tabid/1474/xmid/35900/Default.aspx
September 9, 2009
Back from the North woods
I’m just back from the North woods and already I miss the place. So many lakes, trails, and critters, and so little time. I leave there with a sense of time gone too fast. I’m not sure if it’s because the interludes on either side of winter are so brief up there, but in the North my clock seems to be ticking double-time. Like the red squirrels that were knocking down acorns onto my tent at five in the morning I am possessed by a sense of seasonal urgency, that once again I missed so much this summer, and that I’d better be double espresso shot wide awake or I’ll miss fall as it seems it’ll be here in the next fifteen minutes. See, as the photographer for Wisconsin Trails I have a running list of things in my head that once again I didn’t get pictures of. This list bugs me. Endlessly. This mental list of pictures not taken includes things like bobcats, the elk herd at Clam Lake, wolves, the absolutely perfect canoeist at dusk photo, the backlit people walking down a woodland trail, the Northern Lights, the Beast of Bray Road...the list gets pretty long. There is a rational voice in my head that whispers, “You can’t shoot everything.” I hear that whisper for all of about five seconds until the list comes roars back with “YOU”RE MISSING IT!” So if you’re lucky enough to be out enjoying the woods this fall and you see a frantic looking guy half running up the trail with a bunch of jangling camera gear babbling away to himself, that’d be me and my list so please, please, don’t tell me “you should’ve been here five minutes ago there was this beautiful bobcat sitting on a log.” That might put me over the edge.
July 25, 2009
On the taking and giving of time
If I take my left hand and turn back the pages in my book of life to about 1967, you'll see a man in a felt hat and bib overalls squatting next to a six- year old boy on an Alabama creek bank. They are watching the bobbers attached to the lines on their old school bamboo fishing poles. Their fishing gear is minimal, a tin can of worms for bluegills, a tub of chicken livers for catfish, and a Bruton snuff box with maybe six extra hooks. A glass jar of ice water drips with condensation in the Alabama heat. The man stays very still, intent on his fishing while crawfish, dragonflies, and possible snake holes often distract the boy. That boy is me, and the man is my grandfather, Woodrow Wilson Flippo. I call him Papa.
My grandfather had a hard life, a coal-mining father of 11 in the depression era south, gaining black lung and losing a finger in the mines. That four-fingered hand leads me down many woodland paths and quiet creek banks. He's certainly earned the right to do nothing other than sit in the house with a cool drink nearby. Instead, he takes the time to take me outdoors, giving me baptism in the green world, this baptism leading to my lifelong love of all things wild and eventually to my job as photographer for Wisconsin Trails. Woodrow is in the next place now, but it always feels like he's right beside me when I'm in the woods and waters. Of all the things given to me in my life, this old man's time is still the most precious to me.
Now I take my right hand and turn the pages of my book of life back towards it's middle, in July of 2009. Standing in a kitchen is another six-year old boy who has come all the way from southern Illinois to visit his Nana and Papa. The boy's name is Lukas and in time's peculiar way Papa is now me. Last summer I took him fishing to Paradise Springs outside Eagle. Within five minutes of being at our house he asks me in the rapid-fire fashion of a five year old, " Papa, are you going to take me fishing to that place in Wisconsin where we caught two trout where the water was clear and there is real cold trout water with a spring house at one end and where I casted really far?" I will always say yes, I will always make time for him.
The next day as a trout fights on the end of his line, I steady Lukas' rod hand and not only do I feel the life of the trout through the warmth of my grandson's hand but also a hand atop mine, this one with four fingers.
June 27, 2009
From the Bright Thunder Country smelling of pizza
Travel the state long enough and places within it seem to develop their own personalities. A set of weather, food, mood, and mishap fingerprints all it's own. So it is with the lands around the Big River in western Wisconsin. In my mind it has become the Bright Thunder Country. Each time I've been there it has been diamond-bright sun and high heat alternating with biblical-size clouds that throw down brilliant lighting and booming thunder over the Mississippi.
This trip is no different but somehow I scratch up some luck and my shoots fall between thunderstorms. I'm shooting a story on pizza barns for the Dining Out column in Sept/Oct 09 issue of Wisconsin Trails.
When I first got the story I thought "Why the hell are they sending me a few hundred miles away to a strip mall to shoot in a place called the Pizza Barn?" See, the other part of me, the young part, twice removed, was brought up part of the time in Alabama, where many franchises used the word "barn" as part of their business name. Dress Barn. Carpet Barn. Used Yankee Barn. No barns in sight at any of those places, as they were in strip malls. This deception led to my lifelong suspicion of any business whose name ended in " barn."
Ends up that here in western Wisconsin the pizza barn is more of an idea rather than a specific place. A locally grown, tasty idea. The first place I come to is Smith Gardens outside Cochrane. At Smith Gardens it goes like this: people drive up curvy farm roads way out in the country, put their blankets and lawn chairs in the shade of the barn, place an order, and then take a seat and enjoy the hill country view as they wait. A few minutes later a beautiful, cooked in an outdoor oven, chock full of locally grown ingredients pizza is placed in front of them. Bright sun, pretty country, good conversation, great pizza. Not a bad way to spend a summer evening. Two hours later it's dark and I'm back on the road. True to form, the thunderheads gather over the Mississippi, lightning flashes, and the thunder comes, echoing off the Big River.
May 28, 2009
Assignment: Waterfalls
Some of them bound out of soft woods like happy young retrievers, others roar, bear-like, from hundred foot rocky chasms. Each has it's own particular character formed by the blend of time, rivers, rocks, land, trees and light. All of them are beautiful.
I'll never be able to say what my favorite assignment for Wisconsin Trails has been, but the waterfall shoot is very near my heart. That being said, I will tell you about a three of my favorite waterfalls. Upper Amnicon Falls near Superior is stunning, accessible to everyone and Amnicon Falls State Park is a great place to camp. Morgan Falls is near Mellen in the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, and the half-mile hike to it is almost as good as the falls itself. Morgan is the fashion model of Wisconsin waterfalls, tall and skinny, coming down the hillside on an unusual sideways path. Since it is somewhat remote, there is a good chance you'll have this gem to yourself as I did. Foster Falls near Upson is also off the beaten path at the end of an old fire road, and incredibly beautiful. It flows over smooth red rocks that are easy to walk on and good for your camera. I was there with the last of the daylight, it was the last of the falls I shot, and for me, the last was best.
Some tips for good waterfall pictures:
Use a tripod and your camera's manual exposure setting. The best waterfall shots tend to be with longer exposures of 1/15th second to 1 second to get that silky look on the falls. Use a cable release or your camera's self timer so that you minimize camera shake. If you can lock up the mirror on your camera do that, too. Invest in a polarizing filter to both cut down glare and reflection and saturate colors. Bracket your exposures so that when you get home you have many options to choose from. Remember both film and digital are cheap compared to what it cost you to get there. If you can, shoot before nine in the morning and after four in the afternoon. The light is softer then and the brightness of the water is a lot more manageable. Step slow, step careful, these are really slippery places. Seriously, remember that if you walked in by yourself, you have to walk out by yourself. Cell phones are real iffy around here and waiting for someone to show up and help you with your broken leg might be a real long, painful wait. Always tell someone where you are going and when you plan to come back. Bring plenty of bug dope as the waterfall mosquitoes seem to be on insect steroids. Until next time, enjoy yourself, leave only footprints, and if you get some good shots email me.
May 13, 2009
About the fifth time I reached for my water bottle it hit me: there is no water in this wind.
I was about halfway in on a three-mile hike to Bell Rock outside Sedona, Arizona. It was 97 or so. I had sweat completely through my shirt. In the five minutes I took rest I felt the desert wind reach all round me and take the sweat from my skin. As a Midwesterner I felt a bit violated having my moisture taken away that quickly and without my permission. Soon even my shirt was dry.
Looking at the desert landscape, the trees, shrubs and cactus that somehow manage to survive here, the scurrying lizards, the hawk gliding high up, I began to think about how much water is in the place where I normally take pictures. And how very lucky we are. Wherever I'm at in Wisconsin it's maybe 15 minutes away in any direction from a river, creek or lake.
The desert is beautiful, unique, challenging, and awe inspiring. I was lucky enough to be there in May when most things are in bloom. Everyone should see the desert blooming at least once in their life. The place feels apart, sacred. A lot of people come from all over for a sense of the desert's spirit and not just to leave the snows. Still, I'm glad that my home place is so wet. Walking down the hill this morning I stopped to listen to the rain falling, to look at the lake, to feel the rain run down my face, and to be thankful. As abundant as water is for us here, let's not waste it, let's keep it clean, and let's teach our children to do the same. If you think water is anything less than precious, go take a walk in the desert.
April 28, 2009
Assignment: Troy Landwehr, Master Cheesecarver
"I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." -Michelangelo Buonarroti
In Troy Landwehr's case he sees things in cheese and then sets them free. I went up to Freedom to meet Troy and take his picture for the July/August 2009 issue.
Troy is a gentle giant of a man who has practiced his cheesecarving all over the world. Seeing him make a form emerge from a monochrome block of cheese was a humbling experience. As his hands move around the cheese, contrast arises from added details, a sense of depth from an expert grasp of perspective. Some of the well known carvings he's done include Mt. Rushmore, the Lincoln penny, the signing of the Declaration of Independence and the Statue of Liberty. He also makes sure that the leftover cheese goes to a food pantry. I'd think I was doing a pretty good job with my life if I was one-tenth as creative and one-fourth as kind as Troy is.
Find out a lot more about this Wisconsin original in the July/August 2009 issue of Wisconsin Trails. Stop by and see Troy at Kerrigan Brothers, his winemaking business on State Hwy. 55 in Freedom.
April 23, 2009
Assignment: Rock Climbing Devil's Lake for Wisconsin Trails July/August 2009
"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings." -John Muir
Although Darcy's Buttress in Devil's Lake State Park may not technically qualify as a mountain, I can tell you that when your backside is dangling from a rope 80 feet off the ground while you're trying to take pictures it sure feels like a mountain. Especially when you haven't ever climbed before. In spite of that, I HAD A GREAT TIME! I was fortunate to be with Peter Taglia and Keith Pollock, both experienced climbers who helped me get on the rock and in really good position to take pictures of Peter's kids making it look easy.
Seeing 10-year-old Spiderwoman Linnea Taglia work her way up to the top of the rock was really inspiring. I climbed alongside her with much less grace and with much more panting but I got some really stunning images. I kept thinking what a wonderful thing it was that the Taglias do this as a family. Going to a movie as a family is one thing, but making your way up a vertical rock face while your father is on belay for you 80 feet below is another thing entirely. When I got off the rock and out of the climbing harness I was exhausted, scratched up, and completely happy. The only thing that could've made me happier was to have had my grandsons there. I plan to get back to Devil's Lake with them, to have the climbing experiences the Taglias have, to make some memories. The view from the top is beautiful, I imagine that seeing it through the eyes of the young ones you love makes it even more so.
If you want to climb, find a friend who knows what they're doing and has the gear. Otherwise, find an outfitter and pay for a climb using their gear and experience. Gravity works, so please don't try climbing without someone who has the knowledge and climbing equipment to keep it safe. Read more about climbing in the July/August issue of Wisconsin Trails and see some video of our Devil's Lake climb at wisconsintrails.com.
Until next time, enjoy Wisconsin and I hope I meet you along the way. Jer
April 9, 2009
Now shall I walk or shall I ride? "Ride" Pleasure said; "Walk," Joy replied.
-W.H. Davies
Or shall I canoe, bike, fish, backpack, rock climb, run, geocache, camp, birdwatch, eat, take pictures, or just keep watch on the beach so the sand doesn't run away? Well, lucky for us we can do all those things and more here in Wisconsin. If you're looking for somewhere to fill up a week, a weekend or just a day I've got a few suggestions I think you'll like. This week we'll start with Northwest Wisconsin.
How you feel getting into the car for the ride home is to me the determining factor of how well you liked a place. In my time with Wisconsin Trails I have been to the Northwest several times and each time I get into the car for the ride home I've said to myself, "I really wish I'd had more time." I know it's kind of knuckleheaded to think about one part of a state being bigger than another, but the Northwest just seems BIG. Here are some of my favorite places in Bigland:
Brule: Brule River State Forest, camping, hiking, excellent trout fishing, kayaking, canoeing. Killer Diner Breakfast at Twin Gables in Brule. You could spend a week just exploring the Bois Brule by canoe, kayak or on foot, but if you have less time, you can boat the river in less than a day. Be prepared as parts of her turn into some big, highly opinionated water. As in "it is this river's opinion that my waters should now flip you and your colorful little boat upside down." So get a river map, be alert, scout the water and if you are going to run the rapids wear a helmet and a life jacket. Bonus here is that when you come out of the rapids you're going to be soaked and nobody can tell you peed your pants on the way down.
Need a kayak, canoe or a guided trip? Go see my friends at Brule River Canoe Rental: brulerivercanoerental.com or 715.372.4983. A must-see here is to either boat or drive to where the Bois Brule River meets Lake Superior. Outstanding sunset on a huge gorgeous beach where if I've seen two people when I'm there it's a lot. This spot is in my top five places to take pictures in Wisconsin, and when I'm there at sunset I have to pinch myself to make sure I haven't died and went to heaven. A big tip of my hat to the rangers of Brule River State Forest and the Friends of the Brule, too. They do a great job of protecting the Bois Brule River, one of the jewels in the crown of Wisconsin.
Cornucopia: Gorgeous little town on the shore of Lake Superior. After the long drive up this way and plenty of weak gas station coffee, stop in at Siskiwit Bay Coffee and have one that'll stand your hair back up. Ehler's general store across the street has everything you need from food to fishing tackle. If you still need it and they don't have it maybe you need to reassess your needs. Miles of beautiful Lake Superior beach here with a number of art shops along the shore. Cornucopia is also the western way to the sea caves of Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, a place that's on my "can't believe I still didn't get there" list. Find out a lot more about Cornucopia in the July/August issue of Wisconsin Trails.
Bayfield: Bayfield seems to have been plucked off the Maine coastline and plopped into Wisconsin. A harbor filled with sailboats, storefronts painted in blue. I like to get it started at Bigwater Café & Coffee with one of their huge cups of joe and something sweet. These guys are roasting and brewing fair trade coffees and serving up great food made with locally grown ingredients. Stay here an hour and you'll leave with some new friends. Plenty of hotels, B&B's in Bayfield and along the shore. If you want to keep cheap try camping at Dalyrmple Park a mile north of town. I'm always amazed at how such a pretty camp is so close to a town. Beautiful views of the BIG LAKE. Bayfield is also where you can kayak out to the sea caves or ferry out to Madeline Island.
Give your ears a treat at Big Top Chautauqua where local and national acts play all summer long. Bigtopchautauqua.org for performance schedules. A perfect ending to your time in Bayfield is dinner at Wild Rice restaurant. When you take the short drive off the highway to Wild Rice and see it rise out of the forest I think you'll have the same reaction I did: blown away. Designed by renowned Duluth architect David Salmela it blends both traditional and modern design elements into a truly stunning piece of architecture. Jim Webster heads a crew of cooks turning out five star foods in a truly incredible setting. You can start getting hungry by going to wildricerestaurant.com
Also in the northwest: Lots of waterfalls. One of my very best experiences in Wisconsin was shooting the Waterfall Tour. Another one of my favorite campsites: Memorial Park in Washburn. Towering pines, beautiful views of Lake Superior at both dawn and dusk, and a short jaunt to Bayfield make this an ideal base. Hot showers here, too. Not a wilderness site, but this is such a pretty camp that some people book a campsite for the whole season. Still, wilderness or not, maintain proper food procedure while camping as the last time I was here I heard the four words of the universal campers' wake up call: "BEAR IN THE CAMP!"
Next time we'll talk about the place of my heart, the North Country. Drop me a line at jluterman@wistrails.com with any questions, comments or things you'd like to share about travel in Wisconsin.
March 11, 2009
Assignment: Geocaching at Schlitz-Audobon Nature Center, Milwaukee
" Learning is a treasure that will follow it's owner everywhere " -Chinese Proverb
My most recent shoot for Wisconsin Trails May/June 2009 was on the subject of geocaching. Geocaching combines the use of a high-tech GPS (Global Positioning System) handheld unit, hiking and the old-fashioned mentality of a treasure hunter. Geocachers learn to follow navigational coordinates for a geocache hunt that has been posted online and set out to find the cache. The routes feature the finding of "waypoints" which give further coordinates to the cache. Once found the geocacher can take a trinket from the cache and leave something of similar or greater value in the cache for the next person. There is also a small logbook where the geocacher signs their name and enters their experience with the geocache route.
The geocache routes are all over the world, with 830,000 active geocaches for people to follow. It's pretty interesting to not only walk through the woods, but to realize that you are following routes that are tied to twenty four satellites hundreds of miles away in space. Makes my head spin a bit.
My introduction to geocaching began with a photo shoot of Jim Hyatt, Secondary Education Instructor at Schlitz-Audubon Nature Center, 111 E Brown Deer Rd., Milwaukee. Jim runs a geocaching program at Schlitz Audubon and if you're interested you can get an introduction to geocaching by going to their Spring Break Treasure Hunt on Tuesday, April 14th, from 10 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. Jim is a great speaker and you're sure to learn a lot and have a lot of fun. While you're there make sure to see the rest of the nature center, it's a fantastic place both beautiful and full of learning resources right in Milwaukee's backyard. Find out more by calling Jim at 414-352-2880 x138 or geocache@sanc.org Space is limited, and there is a fee. Find out more at www.sanc.org/geocache.htm
There is an extensive amount of information online for both geocache routes and user experiences. The geocaching community is also environmentally friendly, encouraging geocachers to follow CITO, an acronym that stands for "cache in, trash out." There are CITO clean up events where geocachers get together to clean up the environment, always a good thing in my book. There is a CITO clean up event in Waukesha at the Frame Park Picnic Shelter on April 18, from 9 a.m. till noon. Some more info on geocaching is below.
Next up on the blog are some of my suggestions for spring and summer travel and adventure in Wisconsin. Repeat after me " spring is not a myth, spring is not a myth..." If you have any stories or tips you'd like to share, please email me at jluterman@wistrails.com Come back soon!
Thanks, jer
Further Resources
"Complete Idiot's Guide to Geocaching"
March 7, 2009
"A journey is best measured in friends rather than miles. " -Tim Cahill
It's going on four years now that I've been the photographer for Wisconsin Trails magazine and we figured it was high time I shared something other than pictures with all you folks who love this great state of Wisconsin. This blog is going to be a bit like a backpack- containing some things you need like a map, compass, food and shelter, and some things you might want, like food for thought, travel ideas, and my experiences of people and places. I'd like this to be a two lane country road where you can hear from me and I can hear back from you about the special places and people that you know. Of course there will be pictures, too as I can't seem to stop taking them.
My own Wisconsin trail began in 1972 when as a very young Boy Scout from Illinois I got on a bus for my first summer camp at Camp Mach Kin O Siew outside Elko on Enterprise Lake in Langlade County. We slept in tents, cooked our meals over fires we built, learned the grace of a canoe and the thrill of a loon's call. In short, my first love wasn't a girl, but a place, and boy did I fall hard. Once in a while I'll stop by the old camp and walk the trails lined with birch and pine and I'm that 12-year-old boy again. Many campsites, fishing trips and three decades later, I've closed a commercial photography business in Chicago and I'm wondering what the next thing is. I see an online ad for a magazine photographer in Black Earth, Wis. Now, if you are a fisherman, you know the country west of Madison is blue-ribbon trout country. And blue-ribbon photo country. So I'm thinking it's one of my fishing buddies messing with me by posting a job for a photographer in trout country.
Cruel joke.
Well, my buddies didn't post it and the job was real, and here I am, four years, more than a few miles and many more friends later. So, grab the backpack and let's go.
From the road, last week of February...
I would argue that I have the best job in Wisconsin. Matter of fact, I feel blessed. I get to go to beautiful places, meet interesting people, and if my mojo is workin' I make some good pictures. For every blessing though, there is a curse. For me this curse is the Everywhere Spirit.
The Everywhere Spirit has made all the beautiful rivers, lakes, creatures and people that I run into along the way. The Everywhere Spirit is also somewhat of a prankster. Especially where aforementioned blessed photographer is concerned. The favorite prank is usually the weather.
It usually goes like this: a beautiful week before I hit the road from Milwaukee, the drive up absolutely sunshiny beautiful, then when I near my destination, WHAM! This trip as I was nearing Black River Falls on my way to St. Croix Falls, the radio people start talking about a severe winter storm, schools closing at noon, traveling only if you have to. Uh-oh. I get off the highway and get to the nearest place, which is the Majestic Pines Hotel and Casino. Now, normally when I'm on the road and not camping I try to be thrifty with the company dime. So, most of the motels I stay in tend to be those tiny, old, N. Bates, Proprietor- type motels. They usually set me back over 55 bucks.
Well, I guess the Everywhere Spirit works in mysterious ways and every severe winter storm has it's silver lining as I pay $35 at the Majestic Pines for a clean, secure room. I shake my head thinking about all the times I could've stayed in a better room for less money at the casino hotels. When you carry around very expensive camera gear all the security cameras make you feel better, too. Keep that in mind, as the casino hotels are located throughout the state near some of the best wild places in Wisconsin.
I get close to Turtle Lake the next day in a near whiteout. I keep driving to St. Croix Falls to my shoot at Grecco's Restaurant, which we feature in the May/June issue of Wisconsin Trails. Chef Justin ends up being late a couple of hours due to the weather. It's okay though, as I wait in a really nice restaurant enjoying a bison burger. Gotta say the bison burger is the best burger I've ever had. The shoot goes well, now all I have to do is get safely to a hotel at night in bad snowstorm. I try the casino idea again and they have one room left, at St. Croix Casino, Turtle Lake. Many people have gotten off the road to stay the night including a commuter bus full of people. Clean room, forty bucks, good shoot, safe for the night, all good. Morning comes bright & shiny with about nine inches of snow on the ground. Road crews deserve a couple of donuts with sprinkles, as they must've been working all night to get the roads clear.
One of my favorite things about road trips is the diner breakfast. Here's a Jer's KDB ( KDB = Killer Diner Breakfast ) for ya: Wayne's Café, Hwy 8, just before downtown St.Croix Falls. Ham on the bone, two over easy, biscuits & gravy, hash browns. Heaven. Place even has those cool-aqua-with-boomerang-shapes on them Formica tables. Now I've got a first place tie between my previous number one KDB, Twin Gables in Brule and Wayne's Café, St. Croix Falls.
Make sure you check out the May/June issue of Wisconsin Trails which has a great story about a waterfall tour you might want to plan for this summer and wistrails.com for a listing of great events throughout the state. Til next time, be safe and slow down, you're driving through pretty country.
Thanks, jer
