If you’ve ever had a drink of orange juice, chances are it crossed these tracks. The Tropicana train crosses this river.
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Tracks crossing the Manatee River to the Tropicana Plant
I live within earshot, so I hear the horn in the morning and at night. It’s part of the soundscape of my hometown. The idea of a town having a soundscape is new to me, but if I were blind, I’d know it very well.
If you look closely at the patterns on the water, you can see the direction of flow. The eddies caused by the supports are on the downstream side. But as this river flows into the ocean, the direction changes with the tide. As the tide changes, the flow is non-existent. But that’s another shot for another day.
Now tell me, do we get amazing sunsets in Florida or what? I took this crazy panorama of my hometown of Palmetto last Friday. In fact, my drone took this photo. I sat out front with a refreshing beverage in a lawn chair and sent my robot drone up to take the picture. Okay, so I’m exaggerating a little, I had to pilot it, compose the shot, and press the shutter button, but with a little more AI, maybe it could do that too.
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A multi-image panorama of Palmetto Florida one evening in August of 2018
Typically, when I take photos, I get my gear, put it in the car, and drive somewhere. Then I get the gear out of the car, walk, compose, and click. Then, I walk some more and do it again, over and over. After all that, I end up with one or two good shots, and then I’m tired. But this time I decided to sit back in a chair and send the drone up. No driving, no packing, no walking.
This whole experience got me thinking that these drones are very close to becoming robots. Fast forward ten years and I’ll be sitting in my living room with a VR headset talking to Siri. I’ll ask her to send up the drone, fly somewhere special, look around, and take a photo as if I was there myself. I won’t leave the comfort of my home. Does that sound absurd? I wonder if the idea is not too far off the mark.
Here I am on the Loop Road in Big Cypress Nation Preserve. I was in the middle of hundreds of square miles of wilderness as far as the eye could see. However, the land is so flat you can’t see distances at all. So I stopped along the side of the road and sent the drone up for a look.
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The landscape of Big Cypress National Preserve along the Loop Road
I suppose this is a selfie of sorts. I’m down there behind my car trying to see the view on my iPhone screen. But, it was so sunny that I was having difficulty viewing it. Nevertheless, I took a few still shots including this.
On this day, it was just a quick up and down flight for a few shots because I just wanted to get a sense of how the landscape looked. It’s also because I’m a nervous drone pilot and I worry about losing it in unfamiliar places. The drone is so small that you quickly lose sight of it. However, Mavic Pro is supposed to fly back if something goes wrong, in other words, it’s dummy-proof. Even so, if it crashed here, there is no going to look for it. With alligators and snakes at every turn, it would take a far braver man than me to go and look for it.
Here is an overhead shot of Coquina Beach I took last summer. The camera is pointing west but the beach is diagonal. It’s something I never noticed from the ground. In this case I was standing about a mile up the beach recording video of the waves and stopped to shoot this still. I still think it’s strange that I can be taking photos remotely.
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Overhead shot of Coquina Beach on Anna Maria Island, Florida
When I’m flying the drone, I don’t like to get too close to people. If I was going to the beach to relax I would not want to be irritated with the sound of a quadcopter buzzing overhead. When they first came out it was a novelty, but now with so many people flying them I think a little etiquette is in order.
In this case I’m flying high enough above the beach that the sound of the drone is not audible. And, the drone is so small that most people would never notice. This way I can fly up and down the shore line looking for compositions without disturbing anyone.
One other thing I’ve tried is flying a parallel path a hundred yards out over the water. With the overhead perspective I can see marine wildlife such as dolphins, manatees and sharks. That’s not unusual for this area, just part of the normal scenery from a drone.
Here is section of the town where I live taken with a drone. This is Palmetto along the north bank of the Manatee River as it empties into the Gulf of Mexico. Having just spent a few weeks away I’m happy to be getting back to the routines of life close to home. One of those routines is getting out to take images of the sunset like this.
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Life Close to Home in Palmetto Florida
About a week ago Hurricane Irma passed by and this river nearly flooded. We were fortunate it did not and that is something everyone here is thankful for. The shared experience of having come so close has brought the community together. As the tide subsided and the river receded, there was a collective sigh of relief, almost festive; yet keenly aware that it could have gone either way. There is also the undercurrent of posttraumatic stress in the wake of the adrenaline-fueled week.
Life is returning to normal; power restored, schools reopened, shelves restocked. Most of us are left with simple assessments, cleanup and repairs. But that’s nothing compared to those further south. That we did not experience the same tragedy is pure chance, leaving us humbled and taking nothing for granted.
I’m philosophical, if not a little superstitious about all this. The way I figure it; we have Mother Nature to thank for calm idyllic scenes like this. As much as we love what she has to offer, we try to remain mindful that moods change and sometimes tempers flare. And in those rare cases, we are at her mercy.
Here’s drone shot from a familiar pier that I like to hang out at. I thought we’d get a nice sunset but the sun peaked for only a few minutes and the rest of the evening was gray and cloudy. But it was not a big surprise; cloud cover is a common, especially when we have afternoon storms.
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Cloud cover over Bradenton Beach
I had the drone sitting stationary in this location for about five minutes. As soon as I saw the sun pop out I snapped a still. Then, while leaving the drone hovering in place, I reached for the camera in by bag but I was too late. By the time I pulled it out the sun was already gone. They say the best camera for the job is the one you have with you. In this case the best camera was the one hovering fifty-feet up.
I just returned from a couple of trips and I’m happy to be back here where I can walk along the beach and take photos. Sometimes I get to the point where I’m a little complacent about living near the beach. But when I go on a trip I realize just how fortunate I am. Then I return with a newfound appreciation for the scenery where I live. But I think that’s normal; you walkaway for a spell and then realize what you have in your own backyard, even if we do get a cloudy day every now and then.
Here’s a shot of the pier at Redington Shores Florida. I took this on one of my first drone flights and I was about a half mile away sitting in a chair. It’s very easy and probably a lazy way to take a photo, but there was still a little stress involved. I couldn’t see the drone even though I knew where it was. I positioned it and took a few snaps and then brought it back to where I was sitting. I breath a sigh of relief when the drone comes back and I can see it again.
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The Pier at Redington Shores as taken from a drone (DJI Mavic Pro)
I’ve had it now for a little over a week and I’m getting used to flying it. The stress is still there, although manageable. Even though it gives me a live view I find it a little disconcerting when it’s so far away. I have no idea what can go wrong and a little mistake can be costly. Add to that you have to be mindful of aviation, and where I live there is no shortage of that.
But with the risks comes a little reward. I am getting perspectives I could only dream of and it’s taking my photography into another dimension, figuratively and literally. Now that I’m not limited by altitude I can revisit familiar places and take completely different photos. I have a long list of locations to hit and that’s a great problem to have.
Thanks to the automation of the DJI Mavic Pro, I’m getting efficient at it as well. I can have it in the air, take the shot, break it down and move on within 10 minutes. In some ways I prefer that to the longer flights, less can go wrong and there’s less stress to deal with. After all, this is supposed to be fun, right? Notwithstanding the learning curve, it really is.
On Monday tropical storm Emily blew in from the Gulf and through my hometown with very little warning. It seemed to come out of nowhere and before we knew it we were in the eye. Our cell phones where blaring tornado warnings and the oak trees were waving like twigs. By the afternoon Emily moved east and I headed straight to the beach to watch the breakers.
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The Breakers at Bradenton Beach after tropical storm Emily
By that time the wind died down so it was safe to fly the drone. It supposedly flies in winds of up to 20mph, but having just purchased it last week I’m a fair weather flyer.
Here is a shot over one of the piers at Bradenton Beach. That’s local surfer David Julius riding a wave on the left. David is from California so he was stoked by whatever the storm could dish up. From this angle it’s hard to tell but from ground level the breakers were awesome to look at, and surely even better to ride.
In addition I got video from the drone that I’ll post shortly. The drone is a DJI Mavic Pro and having survived my first week I’m starting to get my sea legs. That’s an oxymoronic thing to say about flying, but that’s what you get when you read my posts. It’s a little like Emily; it just comes out of nowhere.
