keyword pages: 1  
< 1 of 4 >
mpwarner > Part of a Japanese shrine dedicated to soliders from WWII, located in the Sugar Cane King Park.
mpwarner > PRINTS OF THIS IMAGE ARE FOR SALE: Please call: Art & Frame, (671) 646-1779. Henry Kleckner: owner. hkguam@excite.com The Whole Island: Guam from 13,000 Feet This photo was 15 years in the making. I worked from 1983 to 1998 acquiring the knowledge, experience and equipment it required. Hours of flight time, waiting time, research time, frame after frame of film and equipment purchases finally taught me what it was going to take: a rare, truly cloudless and smog-free day (yes, we have smog on Guam); a Professional Medium Format camera with the sharpest lens possible; little or no wind to minimize salt spray in the air, an aircraft that could reach the needed altitude quickly-doors off to get the best photo angles with no distortion. Over the years I went up on seemingly cloudless days to take the picture many times. By the time I reached the altitude I would find that clouds had formed, the wind had come up, or the island was brown and disfigured from grass fires and lack of rain. The picture was always in the back of my mind and I kept waiting and trying. Finally, in early 1998 the conditions produced by El Nino created what promised to be a perfect day for the photography. I was out photographing flowers when I noticed how clear the day seemed. I called the heli-port and got a "no-clouds" report from a pilot in the air. Abandoning the flowers, I raced to the heli-port hoping to get into the air before the weather changed. When I jumped into the helicopter the doors were already off and the blades were turning. The pilot had off-loaded fuel for minimum weight and maximum climbing speed. Our goal was 15,000 feet. I knew it would be difficult to think in the hypoxic state induced by the oxygen-poor air at high altitude so I pre-set the camera, planning to make only one minor adjustment during filming. As we passed 10,000 feet I realized it was going to be even harder than I thought. Such clear days allow the heat to escape from the atmosphere and it was much colder than I thought possible. I was wearing shorts, a thin T-shirt and zoris. The temperature was near 40ºF and the wind chill from the down wash of the rotor blades was below zero. My fingers got so stiff the joints creaked. The lubricating grease in the camera go so thick I could barely wind the film. It was like a slow-motion nightmare. At 12,000 feet my brain had the cognitive ability of creamy peanut butter. My face and arms felt numb. I began to experience tunnel vision, a loud ringing in my ears-both symptoms of high-altitude oxygen starvation. I asked the pilot to level at 13,000 feet. As we passed the tip of Cocos Island, we turned the helicopter so we could see the whole island. NOT A CLOUD! We shouted for joy. I took a quick look with the camera and saw we had to turn and move a mile or two farther south over the ocean in order to see the whole island. Cocos was then about 4 or 5 miles away yet I could see the individual boats and jet skis in the lagoon. Between frozen fingers and thickened brain it was all I could do to remember to keep the now-visibly-curved horizon straight in the frame and advance the film after each shot. It was so beautiful that my peanut-butter-brain would forget to wind the film and I would vainly try to press the shutter release. Three-quarters of the way through the roll of film I remembered my plan to change the exposure setting. When the pilot yelled at me to "Just do it!" I realized I had been sitting there vacantly staring at the camera unable to make the simple setting change because of the hypoxia so I just finished the roll. As we descended into warmer, oxygen-rich air, my brain-fog lifted. I didn't know whether to be excited or not. I knew the hypoxia had weakened my performance and I was worried I had missed the shot. I was very nervous until the film could be processed the next day. After hours of anxious waiting and coffee drinking I finally picked up the processed film. Out of the 20 frames, three were perfect. Air turbulence from the rotors causes condensation directly below the blades which shows up as slightly blurry areas on film. I'd made sure to shoot enough film to capture three perfect images. These are the original photographic images, printed on special photographic paper, which if not exposed to direct sunlight should have no significant color change for 30 years. The total effort to create this image took 15 years and over $10,000.
mpwarner > Saipan photo
mpwarner > PRINTS OF THIS IMAGE ARE FOR SALE: Please call: Art & Frame, (671) 646-1779. Henry Kleckner: owner. hkguam@excite.com The Whole Island: Guam from 13,000 Feet This photo was 15 years in the making. I worked from 1983 to 1998 acquiring the knowledge, experience and equipment it required. Hours of flight time, waiting time, research time, frame after frame of film and equipment purchases finally taught me what it was going to take: a rare, truly cloudless and smog-free day (yes, we have smog on Guam); a Professional Medium Format camera with the sharpest lens possible; little or no wind to minimize salt spray in the air, an aircraft that could reach the needed altitude quickly-doors off to get the best photo angles with no distortion. Over the years I went up on seemingly cloudless days to take the picture many times. By the time I reached the altitude I would find that clouds had formed, the wind had come up, or the island was brown and disfigured from grass fires and lack of rain. The picture was always in the back of my mind and I kept waiting and trying. Finally, in early 1998 the conditions produced by El Nino created what promised to be a perfect day for the photography. I was out photographing flowers when I noticed how clear the day seemed. I called the heli-port and got a "no-clouds" report from a pilot in the air. Abandoning the flowers, I raced to the heli-port hoping to get into the air before the weather changed. When I jumped into the helicopter the doors were already off and the blades were turning. The pilot had off-loaded fuel for minimum weight and maximum climbing speed. Our goal was 15,000 feet. I knew it would be difficult to think in the hypoxic state induced by the oxygen-poor air at high altitude so I pre-set the camera, planning to make only one minor adjustment during filming. As we passed 10,000 feet I realized it was going to be even harder than I thought. Such clear days allow the heat to escape from the atmosphere and it was much colder than I thought possible. I was wearing shorts, a thin T-shirt and zoris. The temperature was near 40ºF and the wind chill from the down wash of the rotor blades was below zero. My fingers got so stiff the joints creaked. The lubricating grease in the camera go so thick I could barely wind the film. It was like a slow-motion nightmare. At 12,000 feet my brain had the cognitive ability of creamy peanut butter. My face and arms felt numb. I began to experience tunnel vision, a loud ringing in my ears-both symptoms of high-altitude oxygen starvation. I asked the pilot to level at 13,000 feet. As we passed the tip of Cocos Island, we turned the helicopter so we could see the whole island. NOT A CLOUD! We shouted for joy. I took a quick look with the camera and saw we had to turn and move a mile or two farther south over the ocean in order to see the whole island. Cocos was then about 4 or 5 miles away yet I could see the individual boats and jet skis in the lagoon. Between frozen fingers and thickened brain it was all I could do to remember to keep the now-visibly-curved horizon straight in the frame and advance the film after each shot. It was so beautiful that my peanut-butter-brain would forget to wind the film and I would vainly try to press the shutter release. Three-quarters of the way through the roll of film I remembered my plan to change the exposure setting. When the pilot yelled at me to "Just do it!" I realized I had been sitting there vacantly staring at the camera unable to make the simple setting change because of the hypoxia so I just finished the roll. As we descended into warmer, oxygen-rich air, my brain-fog lifted. I didn't know whether to be excited or not. I knew the hypoxia had weakened my performance and I was worried I had missed the shot. I was very nervous until the film could be processed the next day. After hours of anxious waiting and coffee drinking I finally picked up the processed film. Out of the 20 frames, three were perfect. Air turbulence from the rotors causes condensation directly below the blades which shows up as slightly blurry areas on film. I'd made sure to shoot enough film to capture three perfect images. These are the original photographic images, printed on special photographic paper, which if not exposed to direct sunlight should have no significant color change for 30 years. The total effort to create this image took 15 years and over $10,000.
Part of a Japanese shrine dedicated to soliders from WWII, located in the Sugar Cane King Park.
mpwarner > Part of a Japanese shrine dedicated to soliders from WWII, located in the Sugar Cane King Park.
Part of a Japanese shrine dedicated to soliders from WWII, located in the Sugar Cane King Park.
See photo in gallery
keyword pages: 1  
< 1 of 4 >

Comments

|

New comment:

Name: Email: Link:


To foil spammers, enter this code: copy this text in this box: Code unreadable?