Real talk here: I really just wanted an excuse to post this picture, because I’m in love with it. Last weekend I went on an awesome adventure with @erinpillar to Magnunson Park! I even did the traditional “Nikky falls into Lake Washington” ritual that occurs at least once every year. Squish squish squish go the Chucks.

My great-grandfather, George, was an avid photographer, and I inherited his Nikkormat FTn and lenses. I’m currently learning how to master this wonderful mechanical camera just like how he wielded it decades ago.

George lived into his mid-90s, and I remember visiting his house in Port Angeles. During his last years he seemed determined to help us document and remember what life was like when he was growing up. I never really understood that drive until we discovered all of his carefully organised and filed slides amongst his possessions. They’ve been sitting in our basement, waiting until someone had the time and drive to begin documenting and scanning these slides. He took his pictures with positive film, and they’re preserved in the form of Kodachrome slides. Even today they show off their spender.

All of the pictures are located on my flickr, but I’d like to point out a few specific ones that I particularly enjoy. This will be a regular series, and I hope you share in the sense of discovery that I’m experiencing as I slowly peal away decades of photographic history.

George lived most of his life in Port Angeles, and many of the pictures share the traits of that area: the beaches of Puget Sound, the beauty of the Olympic Mountains, and the lush forests of the Olympic Peninsula.

George loved shooting flowers. He had a bellows lens, many remote shutter mechanisms, and precise mounting brackets.

Along with flowers, he also had an eye for mushrooms.

They went on hikes often.

And occasionally spotted a mountain goat.

Snow nor elevation stopped them.

Beaches are also a common theme: he seems to be much like me in that we ventured out when the weather was less than perfect.

George also fished the rivers of the Pacific Northwest. This was taken in the mid 1960s.

People don’t show up too often, but when they do the results are beautiful. This is my grandmother and one of her daughters: most likely my mother.

Preparing for a nuclear family picnic.

Ferries looked quite a bit different back then!

On the deck of a ferry. He liked taking pictures of seagulls.

This looks like Northern California, but I can’t quite place it.

This appears to be three-lane bridge, but nobody seems to be using the middle lane, nor are any of them marked with yellow lines.

Growing up on a protected bay of Puget Sound, my sister and I frequently were fascinated by the sea creatures we found while swimming. Immediately behind me you’ll see a large number of blue starfish, but I was attracted to this bright orange one for some reason.

This is my mom. She often led these beach expeditions and taught us to respect nature.

It’s “Uh-Oh” Dave, my uncle! Nina and I usually pestered him until he picked us up and threw us outside. In a manner of speaking. Just what is on my feet?

Sometimes we went on picnics.

I was that emo kid who always sat alone.

Nina is my younger sibling, and appears to have lost her front teeth in this adorable picture.

Others collected Beanie Babies. I was a hipster and collected Puffkins. They often hung out together on this chair, which was shortly thereafter destroyed by the interior decorator police despite my protestations that it made an excellent home base for Puffkins.

Sometimes they hung out on my bed. I have about 30 now, and they’re hiding in a storage chest at home.

Approximately once a year, I had a birthday.

Nina and I would bake a lot of things with mom. But we often got distracted and let mom do all of the frosting. Or we were too stuffed with cupcake batter. Delicious cupcake batter.

My grandfather, Ray, lived next door (and still does!). He got my foreign coin collection started and introduced the topics of engineering and electricity to me.

Sometimes my aunt Carol and grandma would visit.

And probably would comment on my perpetually messy desk.

Today I resolved to get a wonderful picture of a Northern Shoveller, one of my favorite local birds. This noble creature resembles a mallard in many ways, except for one important difference: it has an enormous sculpted bill. As this bill is well-adapted to skimming along the lake floor and shores for food, the “shoveller” moniker is well-earned.

The walk down to Union Bay was certainly enjoyable, as I think a campus police officer started to think I was some sort of thief. They was everywhere I happened to be, and only when I pulled out my camera and began taking pictures did they actually think I had some sort of legitimate purpose. Of course, I’m being vain and they probably never actually never noticed me, but I like to think that I’m the center of the known universe from time to time.

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Alas, I can only stalk birds when completely alone and there is not a human in sight. Unfortunately on this particular expedition, there had to be an individual who I deem a “fun killer.” This fun killer was a man in his 50s who was well-dressed but slow walking and often had to remark to anyone nearby about how there was heron in the bay. I’m sure he’s very nice and the heron was quite impressive, but I simply cannot operate under those conditions. And to make it worse, he was moving at a mosey-like pace, which was just slow enough so I could easily get ahead of him and begin to scope out a shot when out of the corner of my eyes I could see him begin to wander towards me. Flanking speed engaged!

After these episodes, I resigned myself that bird pictures would not be in my agenda. On the way back through campus, I happened upon a squirrel I henceforth will refer to as “Colonel Pudg’ums.”

It’s probably a good time for an aside regarding naming of creatures and strangers, two groups I often attach semi-unique titles to. When wandering around, I often tend to name animals that I meet. My naming formula is quick and easy, and can often be applied to most anything. Here’s how to do it.

First you must choose a rank for this particular critter. This is a very important step. Popular choices are “Captain,” “Colonel,” or “Admiral.” This rank has no real importance, and is often chosen at random. Alliteration and syllable considerations are most likely the deciding factor for this choice. As you have already no doubt guessed, this squirrel shall be a “Colonel.”

The second step is to actually pick some describing attribute that makes this individual deserving of the “individual” title. For otherwise we are all soulless entities that speak in perfect English and have flawless ethics and morals. Philosophical discussion of what makes an individual unique aside, this squirrel is “Pudg’ums.” As you can tell, I am not entirely sure of how to spell this. Most of these phrases are better suited to be pronounced.

Finally, you can assign this individual a honorific surname or affiliation if so desired. Generic examples that I often produce can be “Admiral Awesome of the Fun Squad,” “Colonel Cranky of the No-Fun Patrol” or “Major Squeaky the Small.” Colonel Pudg’ums doesn’t need one of these.

Adjust the title as necessary for humor.

Getting back to the story at hand, I stumbled upon a very large squirrel excitedly chewing on something. Slowly sneaking around to view his tasty morsel, this champ was gnawing on either a very firm piece of chicken (probably from HFS) or a rice cracker. And, my friends, this was no regular squirrel-sized piece of food, but appeared to be roughly his food supply for the entire week.

I had packed away my camera and switched out my 200mm lens for the standard “walkabout” 28–75 when I left the shoreline. As I was not about to switch out lenses and risk losing the chance to photograph the Colonel, I pulled it out and slowly approached him while silently praying to the large squirrel god that it not notice me.

My prayers were rewarded.

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This is the first picture. Clearly the Colonel was aware that I was there, and I was just getting into range with my lens.

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I’LL GET YOU HUMAN. BEHOLD MY KARATE HANDS.

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He decides I’m not much of a threat and continues to munch upon this chunk of… something.

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His tail is also adorable: it was a wind vane that always pointed away from the direction of the wind.

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Resume eating. Perhaps it’s cheese?

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Just look at those widdle cheeks full of food. Also look at just how large around the waist this guy is.

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The colonel is quickly (for a squirrel) calculating the risk of me suddenly eating him with the reward of consuming this entire piece of protein. I don’t know if it actually is protein, but it looks protein-ish.

He finally decided to skitter away when my lens was about a food away from his little face. Clearly these squirrels are  the pampered campus variety who fear not of danger and humans.

You’ll note I’m using the male pronoun for this squirrel. I’m no expert on squirrel anatomy or behaviour, but I can’t imagine a female would be such a little piggy.

Finally, an awesome car that I walked past on Roosevelt.

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Yes, those are laser guns on the hood, under the hood, and on the hood.

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Some flight-stabilizing fins behind the doors, additional laser batteries on the side, and some awesome starship exhaust ports where the license plate usually exists.

Push Button for Macbeth

Eddy Comforting a Very Scared Dog

A Very Happy Fire Control Box

A Hidden Smiley Face on the Side of a Suzzallo Library Stairwell Illumination Device

The Shining Abyss

The Lone Gosling

See the whole photo session at flickr.

For the most part, everything went well. We were getting good shots of the ghost ramps next to I-520, and got up close to some geese and their gosling. So when we encountered a trail along the waterfront that went back to campus, it was decided to go on this path and only took a sideways glance at the following sign, this would prove to be fateful:

The Ignored Sign. I decided it was most likely incorrect, and they were probably just kidding.

We continue going along the pathway, and then came to a spot in the open water where most of the boardwalk was submerged, so we had to walk through a few inches of water to cross. Slightly concerning, but a minor complication. We then started noticing that in many places they were using layers of bark to provide a somewhat squishy pathway–an environmentally friendly choice to make a human path, but slightly difficult to keep dry.

Then we went through this long stretch of almost the equivalent of quicksand, except with mud. But still, this was conquered with only minor muddiness. Then we encountered a submerged section of the path that did not have an easy solution to cross for me. Eddy was wearing sandals, and was able to kind of balance his way on a submerged board that was still somewhat buoyant. So he crossed successfully. I however, was wearing shoes and wasn’t too hot on the idea of going barefoot in that swampy area.

The situation.

I start to think about possible ways to cross. I considered fording that central water area, using some sticks to kind of stilt my way through, or going all the way back through the other swampy area again.

Thinking it Out

In the meantime, Eddy is kind of trying to figure out what I should do too.

Eddy lulzing

After some consideration, I decide that those grassy things to the right of me (left in the picture) are probably strong enough to hold my weight. Even though they’re in the deep water, they seem like they’re rooted in the ground or at least float well enough for me to cross the obstruction.

Setting Off

So far so good. They’re supporting me perfectly and there doesn’t seem to be a problem.

Problems

The next step is right onto a tree. And that tree doesn’t look like it could hold me at all, and trying to avoid stepping in a big pile of water, I decided my next move.

Hmmm

There was another trail of grassy plants that is a larger loop, but it appeared that they would meet up at the end of the obstruction and thus enable me to bypass the tree situation. So I head on back and decide to take the alternate route. It seemed pretty safe. The water appeared to be deeper on this other loop, but the plants were holding up fine on the inner loop.

The Detour

Then I start noticing that these plants were smaller. And kind of bobbled when I stepped on them. And they were getting smaller and smaller. Until about two thirds of the way there something failed or slipped and I stepped into a big section of water. The last thing I remember thinking was “this is kind of like island hopping in World War II!”

All hell then broke loose and the next thing I remember is standing in swamp water halfway up my chest while holding my bag and camera above my head. Since I’ve been wandering around on and around the water a lot with my camera, I’ve trained myself to always throw my camera hand up when I’m falling, and that instinct worked perfectly. The bag got somewhat wet on the outside, but luckily it was waterproof. Eddy was watching the whole thing, and was talking to a couple who had come from the opposite side.

I then decided to ask Eddy to try and take my bag and camera so I could use my arms and try to extract myself from this slightly amusing mess.

The Aftermath

As you can see, I made it out. I’m pretty soaked and dirty. And slightly smelly. And very pleased with myself. Nothing important got wet.

We took the bus back up the U-District, where I blended in with the local population.

Alki Light

At Sand Point