I like hiking in the rain, and I don’t forego shooting pictures simply because it’s wet outside. I sling my camera strap around my neck and keep the camera itself tucked inside my jacket, protected but still ready for action. A wide-brimmed hat helps keep the drizzle off my lens when I shoot, but there’s an even better way: an umbrella. I have several, and I always stow a compact brolly in the slot behind one of my rucksack’s side pockets so it’s with me whenever I need it.

Then, when I’m done, I close the umbrella and slide it between my rucksack and my back. The weight of the pack keeps it in place, ready for quick deployment.

An umbrella’s utility extends well beyond its role in keeping the rain off your lens (and your pate), too. It can also be put to work at other jobs, like keeping your gear dry while you answer a call of nature:

Of course, brollies have their limits. A stiff breeze will carry one away in the blink of an eye. You’ve been warned. But don’t be deceived. They’re not just foul-weather friends. Umbrellas can be used in the midday sun, too—to minimize lens flare, to shade a subject, or as a refuge from the heat while you snatch a few Zs along the trail. And if you meet an unfriendly dog running free on the trail—an unfortunately frequent occurrence—and if he seems keen on getting up to mischief, just point your umbrella at him and open it up. The effect is often dramatic, and even if it doesn’t send the dog packing there and then, it still buys you time while you fish around in your pocket for the Halt! For all I know, it might work on bears, too.

Umbrellas. They’re lightweight, cheap, and versatile. Fair weather or foul, a compact brolly is the best of companions. The only surprise is that more backcountry wanderers don’t carry one.

 
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I’ve said it before, but given the nasty weather we had over the weekend, it bears mentioning again. Thunderstorms can be deadly. They can even spawn tornadoes. Nowhere seems immune.

Paddlers, cyclists, and hikers are always at the mercy of the elements, and that’s true even in summer. When the sun shines and the wind takes a rare break, we’re on easy street. When the atmosphere is in turmoil, however, we pay the price. Sometimes dense fog leaves us wondering where we are. At other times we’re chilled to the bone by a cold rain. Or we feel the wind’s invisible fist pounding relentlessly against our chests as we struggle to cross a big lake or cycle long distances. Often we can tough it out. But at other times it makes sense to take the easy option. Day trips can simply be cut short. On overnights, you can linger in camp, sheltering under a tarp or tent, while drinking and eating your fill and catching up on your sleep, snug and safe in the warmth of your cozy bag.

Yet there are times (and places) when even the easy option isn’t enough, times when the weather’s so ugly that you’re betting your life just by being outside. Anyone who’s been caught in a thunderstorm knows what I mean. But while the crash of thunder can be unnerving, it’s what you DON’T hear that can kill. The threat? Lightning. Read more…

Spring has been fickle in the Adirondack Mountains. One day you could walk around in a t-shirt without shivering, while the next it was difficult to warm up in the cold wind and spitting snow. And so it goes. To live in this part of the world, you have to be hardy, and that goes for the plants and animals who make their homes in the mountains, too. Photographer Anthony Jancek has been spending as much time as he can out of doors with his camera to his eye, capturing the changing season. Join him on his journey from winter to summer… or as near as we’ve gotten so far.

Mother’s Day, 2010, Adirondack style:

A cold northerly wind ushers in wet snow, discouraging anyone planning a cook-out along the lake, and weighing down trees which are just beginning to leaf out. But the snowstorm is short-lived, and soon the bees are abuzz…

…and the birds are singing again, including this American redstart:

It’s the nesting season, and builders will fiercely defend their chosen sites, like this Northern oriole who fights off a trespasser:

Red-wing blackbirds are building nests, too. A female takes in the view from above her nest, while her mate patrols nearby:

Other birds are more social. Cedar waxwings enjoy an al fresco meal on crab apples which are softened after winter’s freeze:

Mallards fly through pond-side thickets in search of sites to raise their chicks:

It’s a good thing for these panfish in the shallows that mallards are not interested in a fish dinner…

…but they’d better beware the deptive fly cast by this angler:

The hunter might become the hunted if this leech finds the angler:

Watching with aloof reserve, a porcupine isn’t worried about much of anything:

While snowmelt seeks its level by way of lacy streams down picturesque falls deep in the woods:

A well-watered spruce and balsam forest thrives at the edge of an extensive bog:

A boardwalk keeps your feet dry and prevents trail erosion:

And before you know it, the clouds break apart, promising a bright sunset and warmer weather tomorrow:

Thanks to Tony for taking us on a hike through an Adirondack spring, where you can always be sure of one thing—changeable weather. But those who live here wouldn’t have it any other way.

 
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