20060914 Getting the Picture

20060914 Getting the Picture

Expensive glass abounds in Brooks Camp. At the moment two professional videographers, both from National Geographic, are set up on the platforms shooting bears. Err, umm, bear footage that is. Yesterday Animal Planet had a crew here.

Beside the multi- multi-thousand dollar video cameras, multi-thousand dollar still cameras equipped with lenses the size of small artillery are attached to multi-hundred dollar graphite tripods. Based on an unscientific sampling of their owners, most of these Tom Mangelsen wannabes are serious amateurs rather than professionals.

I venture to say that this class of photographer, if I might be allowed to generalize them into a class, raises ranger hackles almost as much as Boy Scout leaders. (There is another story there--one that must wait for another time.) Despite a standard ranger request at bear orientation to give up the prime spots once in a while, these photographers tend to monopolize the railing of the lower river viewing platform for hours at a time. Somehow their photos are more important than those taken by others who paid the same to reach Brooks Camp.

Many of these semi-pro picture takers have two camera bodies. When the bear action shifts to a nearby satellite platform they abandon the tripod setup, grab the second body, attached to a more portable lens, then thunder across the walkway to hog the best spots there as well.

These selfish sorts frustrate me at times because I do not have the authority to force them to share, I can only request. At the same time I feel sorry for them. Looking through the viewfinder, they seem so focused on the mechanics of acquiring the perfect image that they miss out on the experience of what is going on before them. While I like to take pictures as well and have enjoyed use of a Nikon cannon for most of the summer, I have virtually stopped using it because I too was missing out.

Yesterday I had occasion to work with an organized group of serious amateurs. Their behavior reminded me of the danger in generalizing.

I was working the corner, where the pathway from the lodge to the bridge takes a 90-degree bend at the Brooks River. This spot is on the ground, so one must be vigilant for bears popping out of the woods or making landfall after having swum the river. As per usual for the past 10 days or so the bridge was closed. A bear or bears was situated less than 50 yards from the bridge or the path leading to it. The photography group arrived about 9 or 9:15, wanting to cross the bridge to access the superior bear viewing on the elevated platform.

“Hi folks, The bridge is closed because a cub is waiting on the opposite riverbank near the bridge while its mother fishes in the river. The sow may remain out fishing for an hour or more, so we may be here a while.”

“No problem,” replied the spokesperson. Tripods were extended, cameras attached, and shutters released.

Because of bears approaching the corner from various directions, over the next hour and a half I moved that group hither and yon to maintain the 50 yards distance. I did keep them at the corner as much as possible to allow them to photograph the fishing bears. I never heard a complaint.

“I am trying to get you across the river but I must wait for a time when all bears are at least 50 yards from your travel path.”

“No problem.”

“I am willing to allow a bear to approach closer before we move if you are willing to gather your gear and move the instant I give the word.”

“No problem.” And it wasn’t. When I said move, they moved right away. I fulfilled my part of the bargain by waiting much longer than with a typical mix of visitors before requiring the group to give ground before an approaching bear.

After over an hour and a half of bear chess, my replacement arrived allowing me to return to the visitor center. I apologized to the group for not being able to get them across the bridge.

“No problem,” repeated the group leader. “For us, it’s not just the image, it’s the experience.” I could have kissed him. They were having fun snapping a few photos and feeling the unsettling vulnerability that comes with being on the wrong side of the fence at the zoo. These people get the picture.