What is it about dark, secluded parks that draws out lonely men in droves?
Don't answer that: I know why.
And listen, I have no criticism about what goes on between two consenting adults. I just don't want to be a part of it. And when I start setting up camera gear—the tripod should be a big giveaway—strangers should really know how to read my intent.
When I was working on my Bate Island Project, I was approached by a couple of people when I set up my camera just before sunrise or just after sunset, and was enshrouded in darkness. One time, it took me holding my tripod like a weapon to make it clear that I wasn't looking for company. Pointing my camera at others, like I was going to capture their image, also convinced people to leave me alone.
I was surprised, in the time of COVID-19, that people still want to hook up in parks. Yet, when I visited the north end of Jacques Cartier Park, near where the Ruisseau de la Brasserie meets the Ottawa River, I was surprised to discover that there were still men out there, looking for friends.
There were four cars in the parking lot when I arrived, three of them occupied by lone drivers. I parked my car away from any of these cars and hopped out, with my camera bag over my shoulder. I quickly went to my trunk and retrieved my tripod from a storage compartment that seemed to be made specifically to hold it. Holding onto my tripod like a club, I made my way out of the parking lot and onto the path that follows the Ottawa River.
I could see the Rideau Falls through a clearing in the trees. Lit up in red lights, it cast a warm glow across the river. I stepped a couple of metres off the path and immediately set up my tripod. I heard a car door close and when I looked back at the parking lot, I saw that one of the occupants had left his car and was now heading on the path, toward me.
I pulled my camera out of my bag and gripped it by the long lens, where it met the body. It was now a $4500 weapon, if I deemed this fellow a threat.
As he passed me on the path, he slowed. Though there were no lights on this path, I could see that the man was in his late 60s or early 70s and looked a bit scruffy. I said "Bon soir," and he started to move on. I don't know if he saw my gear and clued in that I was here to take a photo of the distant falls or if he saw how I was holding my camera and determined that I wasn't in a mood to chat.
When he was about 40 or 50 metres away, I quickly removed my 24-70mm lens from the camera body and replaced it with my 70-300mm lens. I put my camera on the tripod and framed the red falls in my viewfinder. I then reached into my bag and retrieved my remote shutter release.
I put my camera into manual mode, focused on the falls, and then disengaged the auto-focus feature so that the camera would not try to refocus on the falls. I looked down the path and saw that the man was almost 100 metres away but was standing still, looking in my direction.
I realized that I was going to have to take the photos quickly and be on my way. I set the camera to receive signals from my remote and prepared to take my first photo.
That's when the lights on the falls went out. It seems that the lights remain on until 9:30.
I took the shot, anyway.
When I looked down the path, the man was gone. I looked around to see where he was but figured that be moved further down the path. But when I looked the other way down the path, I saw another man who was coming from the parking lot. He was walking slowly.
I reached into my camera bag and retrieved a light that is attached to a headstrap, and placed it on my head. It has a blindingly bright light, and I thought it might come in handy.
With my camera, I zoomed to different magnifications and varied the exposure settings. My shots were between 20 and 30 seconds long, during which I would stand with my back to my camera, watching the path carefully. I hadn't felt this uncomfortable since a couple of years ago, when I was taking night photos in Vanier, and a guy was following me.
The second man reached the path near me and stopped. He looked at me and my equipment, trying to assess my reason for being in the park. My camera stopped taking an exposure and I knew that that image was now being displayed, but I didn't want it to be a reason for him to come closer, to try to see what I was shooting, so I pressed the remote button again and a new exposure began. Without having to look at my camera, I knew that the display would have gone to black.
"Nice evening," I said.
"Beautiful night for photos." The man stepped off the path to look over at the falls. He was about four metres away.
I didn't want to engage him in a conversation. I just wanted to take my photos and leave. I had started shooting with my camera set to 70mm and had been gradually zooming in with subsequent shots. I had yet to zoom in to 300mm: that was going to be my next and final shot.
And I still didn't know where the first man had got to.
When the exposure finished, I reached for the lens, without taking my eyes off the man, and gave it a twist until it stopped. It was now at its maximum magnification. I pressed the remote release.
The man to a step closer. "That's close enough," I said, firm but not unkind. I shifted so that I put my camera and tripod between the man and myself. I put my remote into its cloth sleeve and put it in my pocket. As soon as the shot was finished, I reached for the camera, turned it off, and released it from the tripod. I was holding it by the lens, close to the body.
"You're pretty trusting to be out here alone with a fancy camera." His words unnerved me and I held more tightly onto the camera.
"My camera weighs close to five pounds. I'd hate to have it come down on my head."
He took a step closer.
I lifted my other hand to my headlamp, ready to blind him if he got any closer. "Dude, I just said that I could crack a skull with my camera. Keep your distance, please!" I could feel the adrenaline rush. In truth, I was scared shitless. Thankfully, he stopped moving. "Have a good night."
I grabbed my tripod with my other hand and turned toward the parking lot. I could feel my ears becoming hot as they tuned to the sounds behind me. The man didn't follow.
Back at my car, I opened the trunk and quickly packed up the camera in my bag and collapsed the tripod, returning it to its compartment. As I closed the trunk, I could see the man coming into the parking lot, making his way to his own vehicle.
I jumped into my car and locked the door. Started the car and got out of there.
I'm done with going to parks alone.
It should have been the lights going out on the falls that should have been the focus of my story in going out to capture an image for Photo Friday. The colourless falls. Instead, being placed in a situation that made me uncomfortable, made me fear for my personal safety, has darkened this experienced more than the extinguished lights on the falls.
Here's one of my photos: I guess there is some colour after all. You just have to look past the darkness.
Happy Friday.
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