I have lived in Northeastern Ohio my entire life so I am no stranger to Lake Erie. Until recently, though, I had never experienced the lake during the fury of a winter storm. Instead, I was familiar with the lake during summer. Whether combing the beaches for sea glass and colorful stones, or watching a vibrant sunset from one of the wineries at Geneva-on-the-Lake, the Lake Erie I knew was relatively tame. My collective impressions consisted of bronzed sunbathers lounging on beach blankets, the gentle lull of lapping waves and warm sand under my feet. This was the Lake Erie that presented itself as a lazy strip of sapphire blue against a hazy turquoise horizon line, a cooling oasis during the sweltering heat and humidity of July and August.
Bikes and Kites at Presque Isle, Erie, PA
Ferris Wheel at Old Firehouse Winery at Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio.
This winter, however, I decided I wanted to get acquainted with the wilder side of Lake Erie. The inspiration occurred after admiring a series of photographs captured during gales on Lake Superior and Lake Michigan. Because lakes Superior and Michigan are much larger, and therefore more potentially volatile, I wasn’t sure how my local atmosphere would compare to the wildly stunning photographic images I had seen–images of shorelines encrusted in daggers of ice and monstrous waves crashing against lighthouses. I had heard locals talk about Lake Erie’s ferocity during the frigid months, however, and it was my goal to capture some wildly stunning images of my own.
Thus, when weather forecasters predicted wind gusts of up to 30 miles per hour for Feb. 7, 2019, I decided to give it a try. I loaded the car with my camera gear and journeyed north before dawn. The sunrise that morning turned out the be a glorious one, by the way, and I stopped for a few quick pictures along the road. Below is one of them.
As I motored closer to Lake Erie, however, the golden sunshine was a memory in the rear view mirror as the sky morphed to steely gray and snowflakes swirled through the air. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would find at the lakeshore, and I counted the final miles to Ashtabula Harbor with anticipation and excitement .
When I finally arrived at Walnut Beach in Ashtabula Harbor the first thing I noticed were jagged ridges of ice and snow jammed against the shoreline. The next thing I noticed were the waves. They were the biggest, angriest waves I had ever seen, slamming hard into the ridges of ice and snow, spraying white, frothy water high into the frigid air.
I was astonished at the furious beauty of it all. I was even more astonished when I tried to open the car door and the wind abruptly banged it shut! My car even shook a little bit in the most intense gusts. Of course, I did manage to eventually get out of the car, and with camera in hand, hooded sweatshirt tied tight, coat zipped and gloves on, I stepped gingerly toward the shore. Wobbling a bit in the intensity of the–um–“breeze,” I wondered what I was getting myself into. The atmosphere was actually a little bit scary, to be honest. I had been to Walnut Beach in the summer, but the summertime beach that existed in my memory looked nothing like the one that unfolded before me. Gone was the smooth sand, the benevolent sunshine and sleepy blue water.
My goal was to take a photograph of the Ashtabula Harbor Lighthouse (pictured above during summertime), which I knew was visible from the eastern end of the beach. Carefully I navigated the high mounds of ice and snow knowing this trek could actually be dangerous if I ended up stepping over top of water instead of land. (I had heard stories of people falling through such snow mounds and getting injured or worse.) The surface under my boots was frozen solid, however, so I assumed it was safe. The hard “ground” didn’t surprise me since the biting, bitter wind that cut through my coat and stung my face could only be described as brutally cold. The wind was so cold, in fact, it made my eyes water, and so forceful it pushed against me with a power that threatened to knock me over.
This was what I wrote about the experience that morning on my business page on Facebook: I went on a little adventure this morning to see the big waves at Lake Erie. I have never been on the lake shore during a winter blast and let me tell you it was amazing and a little frightening. You know those newscasts where the reporters are actually blown away by the hurricane winds? Well, not to be dramatic, but I felt as if the gusts could literally knock me over. And oh, the biting bitter cold! And oh, the waves crashing high into the air! I am home safe now with a chapped face and my eyes still watering from the frigid air but with a content and inspired heart recalling the awesome power and beauty of it all.
And this was the image I captured.
This photo was taken from a distance with my 150-600 mm lens. The dark rocks poking from the dirty ridges of ice and snow are the break wall. (The same break wall that is visible in the summertime photo I shared earlier.) Quite a difference from season to season, eh?
After this initial trip to Lake Erie during winter’s fury, I was immediately hooked. The awesome force and dangerous beauty of the experience left a deep impression on my senses. I felt inspired and invigorated and couldn’t wait to go back for more.
During the next couple of weeks I watched the weather forecast hoping for high winds. I got my wish Feb. 24, 2019, when the forecasters announced a high wind warning with gusts predicted at 65 miles per hour. Because widespread power outages and downed trees were also predicted I wasn’t sure about making the journey to Lake Erie. However, I figured I’d be safe from such hazards on Route 11 (a freeway), so I loaded the car with my camera gear and set out that afternoon.
This time I planned to visit both Walnut Beach and Conneaut Beach in Conneaut, Ohio, where a larger lighthouse is located. (Conneaut West Breakwater Lighthouse, I believe is its name.) Here’s a picture of it taken during the summer:
At Conneaut Beach, a spacious parking lot on a bluff above the beach offers a bird’s eye view to the sprawling shoreline and sturdy lighthouse below. That afternoon as I drove into the lot and parked my car I was immediately stunned by what I saw. Huge, rolling waves were crashing into the ice ridges down on the beach as well as the break wall and lighthouse. The persistent assault of the waves against the lighthouse was hypnotic, impressive and a little frightening.
Here is a link to a video I posted on my business page on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StorytellerPhotographyImagesbyRebecca/videos/2001384459910264/
And here are some of the images I captured.
Aside from the mesmerizing and intimidating beauty of the waves hitting the break wall and lighthouse, a few other things immediately struck me. A huge flock of seagulls repeatedly circled the lighthouse. How in the heck do seagulls manage to navigate during 65 mph gusts?? They make it look so easy! But how are they not carried to the next county?? Also, just look at how the colors of the water and sky changed! I sat in the parking lot for more than an hour and observed the mutation of hues. The sky darkened to a grayish-yellow before a snow squall and then lightened to a grayish blue after the squall diminished. Then it darkened again to an amethyst gray as the daylight waned after the sun went down. Sometimes the reaching waves would cover the lower portion of the lighthouse making it partially invisible for a moment. The lighthouse is supposedly about 31 feet tall, so yeah, those were some mighty swells!
All of the above images were taken from the parking lot on the bluff that overlooks the beach. As I sat in my car, I noticed a few other photographers down on the beach braving the gale, so I decided to try it, too.
This beach walk endeavor didn’t last very long, however. This is what I wrote about it on my business page: I couldn’t stay on the beach very long because the wind created a virtual sand storm (and that is very bad for camera gear), so most of my images were captured from the parking lot above the beach. I have so many to share with you and some video, too. What an unforgettable and exhilarating experience!
Here is a video attempted from down on the beach:
As you can see, I could barely hold the camera still. (I should explain that my 150-600 mm lens weighs about four pounds, so that makes it harder to hold it steady.) During the most extreme gusts the sand pelted the backs of my legs and the wind roared against me with a power that felt like a freight train. Sand infiltrated my boots and stung my cheeks. I have since learned that gusts of up to 71 mph were recorded that day. Since sustained winds of 74 mph are classified as hurricane force, I guess it’s no surprise I had to brace my knees and aim my back to the gale just to keep from falling over!
Here’s an image taken down on the beach:
I stayed at Conneaut Beach until the sun went down, and then I drove to Ashtabula Harbor and took a few pictures of the harbor lighthouse.
The lonely amber light beckoned through the enveloping darkness, snowflakes whirled through the air and seagulls circled above. It was a cold, brooding scene that made my imagination dance with thoughts of sailors and shipwrecks and winter storms. I know, I know–that’s probably a little dramatic, lol, but I can’t help it. I am sure oceanside-dwellers and hurricane survivors might chuckle at my tales of the “ferocity” of Lake Erie during winter, but there’s definitely a treacherous power to these inland seas, and I can’t wait to witness more of it and share the images with you.