I check the weather forecast every day. Religiously.
Some people do it to plan their outfits. I do it for the thrill of the unconventional—the possibility of conditions that could yield memorable experiences. It’s like a ritual, a small hope that nature will throw something dramatic my way.
You can imagine my absolute, uncontainable joy when I saw the incoming Arctic blast on the forecast.
Why was everyone else complaining? “Oh no, it’s going to be soooooo cold!” they said. “Stay inside!” they said.
Come on, people. Where’s the sense of adventure? Where’s the thrill? When was the last time you did something just because it was wildly uncomfortable but also wildly spectacular?
I, for one, decided to lean all the way in. The coldest day on the horizon? A juicy -8F (-22°C), with windchills flirting with -35F (-37°C). Perfect, sign me up! I did the only reasonable thing one could do: I planned a dawn mission to the shores of Lake Michigan, right before work.
Yes, I’m that person.
When the morning arrived, it was… well, marvelous. And cold. Very cold. Marvelously cold, if you will.
With temperatures like these, the lake starts to steam. The air is so frigid that the waters of Lake Michigan look like they’re simmering, as if the lake itself had become a massive hot spring. Imagine that—a hot spring at 32F! The result is a breathtaking spectacle, ethereal and fleeting.
I stood there, bundled up, marveling at the surreal dance of steam and light as the sun’s first rays pierced through the clouds.
I could have cried. I didn’t. But I could have. It was that good. And that cold.
Of course, nature’s splendor isn’t exactly designed with human convenience in mind. My camera equipment and I faced a few… disagreements about the Arctic blast.
For starters, my fingers don’t tolerate freezing temperatures. Even with double layers of gloves and hand warmers tucked between them, my fingers quickly lost all sensation. If anyone had watched me trying to fiddle with camera buttons, they might have thought I was performing some kind of a magical ritual to greet the rising sun.
My Panasonic and Sony cameras, fitted with the most versatile lenses I had, didn’t complain too loud. But my tripod head? Let’s just say it’s now on my naughty list. The poor thing could barely function. Just like my fingers. Filters? Too fiddly.
This kind of environment demands simplicity—the fewer moving parts, the better. It’s clear I’ll need to rethink some gear choices if I’m going to make sub-zero photography a habit.
But let me tell you something: I regret nothing. Not the early morning alarm. Not the cranky tripod. Not even the fact that I couldn’t feel my fingers by the time I was done. Standing there, watching the lake steam and the sky bloom with color, I felt alive in a way that’s hard to put into words.
And now? I’m back to watching the weather forecast, eagerly awaiting the next Arctic blast.
I’ll meet you at the lake.
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