south haven

The Enduring Photo: Winter at South Haven, Michigan

Looking through my photo archives recently, I stumbled on photos from a memorable winter trip with my now-wife to South Haven, Michigan. The result of that trip was one of my favorite photos.

I know: we Michiganders are wacky. In college, I took a spring break trip north, to Toronto, instead of south, as most sane people do.

And here we were, a fairly young couple during a freezing cold February, taking a weekend holiday to the icy Lake Michigan shore. We spent a day walking around South Haven, talking to some locals, and wandering over to the lighthouse to catch an amazing winter sunset. 

It was there, on the walkway out to the lighthouse, that I caught this couple holding hands while they shuffled along the path:

It might be one of my most enduring pictures: it won first prize in my local county fair photo competition, it remains one of my most-viewed photos on Flickr, etc. This photo is one of my favorites, too (though it’s hard to go wrong in South Haven, especially in the summer). 

When we talk about photos and light as feelings, this is an example of an image that has endured.


Climbing the Dunes

Labor Day weekend. South Haven, Michigan. Climbing the dunes along Lake Michigan.

So long, summertime. 

Shot with Canon EOS M and 22mm f/2.


Michigan On Ice

Sunshine, a great lake, and lots of fresh air – we needed it.

After Jaime and I took a trip to South Haven a few winters ago, we swore we had to come back. To see that heaved ice hanging onto the shoreline, to see that frost-encrusted lighthouse again. Maybe grab another beloved shot of strangers trudging through the cold.

The lakeshore is like another planet: a mix of sand and ice, and off in the distance an unfrozen lake. The ice in the pier heaved, like the lake was breathing – a living, swelling mass of ice.

I brought along my seldom-used Tamron 24-135mm zoom lens to give it some exercise. I’m usually a prime guy, but with scenery like this, I wanted to be prepared for whatever came up.

We dragged the kids along with the grandparents with us, too. The children were constantly on a precipice: one slip, and we’d lose them to what felt like the void. 

On the ride home, we could’ve all fallen asleep. We were tuckered out. All that cold and fresh air did us good.