With Lake effect snow expected all weekend, I opened the window to check how much snow fell over night. At 5 am, not only was there no snow, but the stars were out. I headed outside with the camera and tripod to capture images of the stars.
In this 5 second exposure, the approaching lake effect snow can be seen on the horizon. By 6:30 am, the snow was falling.
Generally, following a hike down into the canyons of Matthiessen State Park's upper dell area, I'm confronted by a silky waterfall, or a frozen waterfall. While the waterfall was partially frozen, I was captivated more by the view up.
The arched, concrete pedestrian bridge and the bare trees silhouetted against a partly cloudy sky, mattered more to me than another photo of the waterfall.
Each winter, I dedicate a good portion of my photography to ice and snow. I really don't like cold weather, but for some reason, when I'm out photographing the frozen lakeshore, I don't mind so much. Along with the beauty of the ice, comes a lot of danger. It's easy to forget that these huge mounds of ice are deadly - very deadly. In between the 15 foot thick mounds of ice are dangerous holes - some leading directly to the deep, frigid waters below.
These holes are often covered over by loose, drifted snow or a paper-thin layer of ice. One step and you're in Lake Michigan - 33 degree Lake Michigan, with no way out. It's similar to falling into an open sewer, except there's no ladder to help you out, and you are pushed around under water by the wave action, so you don't pop up where you fell in.
In the photo here, Mike stands near one such hole. This one was easy to see, plus it was formed by waves crashing onto the beach, so it was not over water. Just a few feet to his right is the waterline of Lake Michigan, and the shelf ice continues for hundreds of feet off shore. The water is over 10 feet deep a few yards out, making it impossible for anyone to stand up and attempt to climb out. Besides, the sides of the shaft leading to the surface is slippery ice, and the water is so cold, muscles don't work.
If you're out near Lake Michigan in the winter, resist the temptation to walk on the shelf ice - it's much more beautiful from the top of the dunes, than from the bottom of the lake.
This image is made up of 4, portrait oriented images, stitched together.
Standing (safely) on the first mound of shelf ice. I say "safely" because I know the beach is underneath me, not cold Lake Michigan. If I were to venture any further to the right, I would be standing on ice that formed over water, and was only connected to the shore at the surface - like a shelf; hence the term "shelf ice."
Barely visible are two people walking down the beach - they certainly give some scale to the amount of ice here at the shore. It extends hundreds of feet out into Lake Michigan. The wind and waves kick up the floating drift ice, it piles up near the shore in mounds over 15 feet tall. Then a calm period follows where more drift ice forms, followed by another windy day of ice piling up, and so on. This creates the series of ice mounds seen here.
Shelf ice lines the beach of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. Weeks of cold weather, and high waves have mounded up ice over 15 feet high, and hundreds of feet into Lake Michigan. These thick ice mounds are often peppered with paper-thin covered holes leading directly into the 34 degree lake below. As inviting as it may seem to walk out onto them, it may the your last hike. The ice is attached to the shore, but not the bottom, thus the name "shelf ice." It often breaks off and rolls into the cold lake, creating a dangerous environment for people.
Two people walk along the shore, looking for a place for sledding. It's prohibited in the National Lakeshore.
At the "end" of our canyon walk, two waterfalls empty into the creek. In winter, they generally freeze into solid columns of ice. This one has just started to form a column, and the indent in the canyon wall provides a great place to crawl into to view the back-lit ice.
The ceiling of the cave is about 15 feet above the ground, and the column of ice is about 8 feet wide.
Surrounded by huge icicles, and frigid Lake Michigan, Chris takes a photograph of me, taking a photograph of him. We're on the pier in St. Joseph, Michigan capturing the ice formations on the outer lighthouse and the catwalk. The catwalk was built so lighthouse keepers wouldn't need to worry too much about washing over the side when it's wavy on the lake. Looks as if the keeper wouldn't be able to get to the light after this period of freezing spray.
Pancake ice, that is. As the lake water freezes near the St. Joseph, Michigan lighthouse, ice forms. The wind and wave action constantly move the pieces of ice, and they pack together in circles-growing radially forming these interesting circles.
The ones here were about five feet in diameter.
Perhaps they should call them kolache ice, as they appear to have a fruit filling in the center.
A closer view of the outer light of the St. Joseph, Michigan range lights. The ice and snow give the lighthouse the look of cake frosting.
This week, the temperature climbed up near 60 degrees, so I'm assuming the ice no longer covers the lighthouses of lower Lake Michigan. Temperatures are falling today, so perhaps a fresh batch of ice will be clinging to this tower soon.
One can't help but notice the thick ice on the lighthouses of the Great Lakes in winter, but a closer look often yields some very interesting formations. While carefully moving toward the windward side of the outer light - through an arch created by the ice hanging between the tower and a cable - I captured the view up toward the lantern.
The tons of ice hanging above created an interesting "room" resembling the interior of a cave, complete with stalactites and stalagmites.
