It's the chance you take. Sometimes a trip to a park location, much farther than you would like to normally drive, proves to be unproductive. That's what happened to me on March 14 of this year.
I had high hopes. I planned to go to Bald Rock Heritage Preserve, take photos of the sunrise, then go to Table Rock State Park, renew my yearly park pass, and take some photos there.
It wasn't meant to be.
I got to Bald Rock early in the twilight hour. The sky was just beginning to lighten up a little. I parked my car and got out, grab my gear and headed toward the mountain. But something was new there -- an enormous sign. I should have taken a photograph of it, but I was so upset when I read what was on it, I just forgot.
After years of ignoring all the graffiti that had been painted onto that magnificent mountain, the government finally decided to do something about it, not clean it up; that was left to volunteers, if I undertand correctly. Instead, they put up a sign. That sign told me two different things. It told me that future graffiti artists would be punished. And it told me that folks who entered the preserve during the hours it was closed would also be punished. The punishment would range from a fairly hefty fine to jail time.
The sign stated that the preserve was open from sunrise to sunset. At first, the significance of those two times did not register in my mind. I walked over the little bridge and headed out onto the big rock, prepared to take some photos. The first thing I noticed was that the sun was far off to the left. There was no way to photograph sunrise from the top of the mountain. I would have to do what I always did: climb down the mountainside for 100 feet or so. There I get photos of the sunrise.
The sunrise!!! I suddenly realized the legal intent of those words: sunrise and sunset.
I would have to be inside the preserve and down the side of the mountain during the time when the preserve was officially closed. That meant some overzealous state trooper, along with a judge, could fine me money I don't care to risk, or even send me to jail.
I panicked. I got off that mountain, over that bridge, and into my car as quickly as I could. I read the sign one more time to make sure. Hefty fine; jail time. I did not imagine it.
I waited around for half an hour, the time when sunrise would be official. But the longer I waited, the more angry I got. I could not take the photo I wanted to take because by the time I got there the thing I wanted to photograph would already be over with.
I cranked up my car and headed back down the mountain.
I drove straight to Table Rock State Park. The office would not open until 9 AM. So I killed a couple hours walking around, looking for something to photograph, but not being in the mood for photography. My efforts were halfhearted. Today's photo is the only one I didn't cull. I have never been able to do that mountain justice in a photo. It is far more majestic in real life.
I bought my park pass, and I headed back home. This was one of those days that's gonna stick in my mind for a long time. I feel as though Bald Rock Heritage Preserve is no longer worth the trip. The thing that excited me most about that place was getting there before sunrise and taking photos during twilight hour and during sunrise. I can't do that anymore. And that sucks.
When I got home that day I started writing a letter of complaint. But somewhere in the middle of it I ran out of energy. There is probably not much point in making a complaint to a government agency. All I would ask is that they let the park be open during twilight hour, both morning and evening. But even if they agree to it, that would mean changing the sign, which clearly states "sunrise and sunset." I don't see that happening.
Weeks went by. I have since finished the letter and send it off; and if I get a response, though not likely, I will let you know.