Story

This Wilderness Wednesday came on the heels of serendipity, with a few events that culminated in one of the coolest unforeseen opportunities of 2024 falling right into my lap.

The first domino fell on Thursday, as I had just walked in the door from dropping off Morgan, my fiance, at the airport for what must be her 14th bachelorette party this year. Resigned to a weekend of house chores and playing catch-up from weeks of skipping town, I opened my instagram for a quick hit of dopamine before I started making dinner for one. I flicked through the story from one of our region’s household names for Landscape and Wildlife photography, Jay Fleming, to find he had a last minute opening for one of his Photography Workshops out of Kent Island, MD. Knowing how long the waiting list can get, I had a hotel in Annapolis booked and a spot on his boat before the pink ring around his profile picture had time to disappear.

Arriving at 5 for a 5:30 AM departure, the four of us photographers would fill our SD cards over several landmarks and subjects that Jay himself had documented over the years. From the Bay Bridge we traveled to several locations around the greater Annapolis and Kent Island area, putting in around 50 miles aboard the well-kept 1983 Privateer. With Jay as our guide, we would go on to capture architecture, landscape, wildlife, portrait, and commercial sides of the Chesapeake Bay.

5:30 AM sharp departure from Kent Island led into a short run from the marina to a spot that would offer shots of the Bay Bridge’s from its underside – for a unique perspective of the architecture and scale. We got lucky enough to see one of Carnival’s cruise liners pass underneath, heading north toward its destination in Baltimore.

Through many years of being one of Maryland’s modern conservation chroniclers, and marketing for the seafood industry before that, Jay had developed contacts and relationships with many of Maryland’s working watermen (check out his book, Working the Water!). We lined up his boat on the starboard side of the Colleen C., a crab boat working pots for the local crabhouse Cantler’s. Years of Jay’s workshops left the two watermen barely lifting their heads to the sound of our engine, having become quite used to having their own personal paparazzi. The Sun broke through for about an hour before we pressed on to the mouth of the Severn River, and Annapolis.

After a quick stop to rustle up some Osprey subjects, we scooted up Mill Creek to visit the decades-old crabhouse, Cantler’s, in order to see the other side of the crabbing industry – direct to market sale of fresh seafood from the local watermen we had just documented. My parent’s later told me they had eaten at Cantler’s back in 1998 after a ship christening in Annapolis, proving that the freshness of direct-to-restaurant seafood sales from our own local estuary will draw the most loyal customers over time without question. These men work hard for razor thin returns, knowing that when they board their vessel in darkness, quality local catch will trump imported quantity. Blue Crab has bled into the identity of any and all Marylander, and with quality comes loyalty in an industry where exclusivity exists just as much in roadside tailgate sales and knowing the right crabber’s cell phone number, as much as it does paying top dollar for white tablecloths and black ties dusted in Old Bay.

From there we exited the creek out to the open bay once more, and pointed the bow North for a run up to Baltimore Harbor Lighthouse, a historical landmark that juts 50 feet into the sky from the surface of the bay. Grey clouds filled what was left of the sparse blue sky and offered our viewfinders a mood tailored perfectly for weather worn maritime landmarks. Rust on the red steel support juxtaposed against the white coat of paint above made for quite the capture. I couldn’t help but put myself into the shoes of those who would have resided here, and the solitary lifestyle that manning a lighthouse brought with it.

From there we finished our morning with a final run back to the harbor, and a short drive over to the studio of Jay Fleming. The objective of our studio visit was to take 10 of our photos to be reviewed by the man himself for pointers from a seasoned eye, with the choice of one photo to be professionally printed in 16” x 20” for us to take home with us. With thousands to choose from, I landed on a portrait of soft shell crabs, arranged with great care by the workers at Canter’s to be sold. Pictured are a few of the photos from that day, with thousands more on my hard drive to see.

Walking in, I passed several iconic images I had seen over the years in print – The cyclist on Ice by the number 7 pylon from his book Island Life was the first I saw, followed by several of the iconic “Boat Bow” reflection shots in large print. I laid down my laptop and saw the collection of antique oyster tins to my left, the giant Epson printer, and Jay’s personal Wall of Fame – containing magazine covers, portraits around the world with all kinds of people, awards, and photos of memories, including one of Jay as a child with camera in hand. I couldn’t help but feel as if I was staring at the guitars and platinum records of a famous musician in this room surrounded by conservation milestones and commercial prints. With how often I have a camera in hand, you may be surprised how seldom I get to talk shop with other photographers. Immersed entirely in nature that morning among like minded creators, with a guide like Jay that influenced many of my own personal opinions on conservation, It’s safe to say my inner ten-year-old was having one of the greatest days of his life. The day concluded by putting my own signature on my first ever commercial print, and a handshake with the four other nature photographers I shared the day with.

And just as I thought my day was over, an epilogue was written against my will. Leaving Jay’s studio to start my long drive back to the mountains of Virginia grinning like a possum, I was sent on a detour to route 50 east back over the bridge to the mainland. While heading west, passing through a roundabout, my Tacoma was rear ended by two very frazzled gentlemen. They looked like their lives were about to end, one of which mentioned his wifes infamous temper when it came to what sounded like many years of mistakes that mirrored this one. I looked him in the eye, told him not to worry and that despite my shaking fingers, I was fine. I then told him that any other day, I may not be in such a good mood. Little did he know that I had just spent my morning out on the water having what may be one of the most professionally enriching days of my life, and even a carjacking couldn’t take those memories away from me.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to reach out to my email if you have any questions.

– Patrick