Night Shots  − 24 March, 2007

With Samantha sitting in the passenger seat and Nathan tucked away in the back, I took another trip to Rochester Dam, this time to take pictures instead of wrecking my car. 

I pull up beside the old houses that look out over the rushing water,  and ready my camera as I step out of the car. I light a cigarette and climb down the slope the leads to where I'm going to be shooting. We pass a "No Trespassing" sign, but, naturally, it goes unheeded. 

Collapsing the tripod my camera is so gingerly attached to and tucking it beneath my arm, I duck under the gaurd rail, tentatively stepping onto the giant iron door that acts as a bridge to the dam itself. Nathan follows behind me, while Samantha waits behind the rail. I walk across the strip of concrete, careful of where I put my feet lest I go sprawling headfirst into the river. I step up my tripod while Nathan makes himself comfortable, sitting down and swinging his legs over the edge of the dam. 

I look up from my camera's veiwfinder and out onto the water itself. Across the river, high up on the bank, is a telephone pole with a solemn light affixed to the top, coating everything beneath it with a deep amber light. I snap a few shots before I begin to feel guilty about leaving Samantha behind and cross back over on the iron door. More cigarettes are lit, and soon it begins to rain, chasing us back into the car. We head back into town, stopping by the truck stop where my mother works for some free food and a tank of gas.