04 Sunrise

The cold is what wakes me. It’s still dark and there's nothing I can do to get warm except run naked across the room and turn on the heater. I'd use it through the night, but it's so loud it puts a road drill to shame.

There's no point even thinking about more sleep with this noise and I can feel the pull of pancakes, so I pull on a sweatshirt and jeans, grab the car keys and head out to the IHOP by the interstate exit.

The sun starts to rise on the way and it's not often that I'm up to see it, so I pull over and stare at a spectacular red sky dotted by low-hanging, silver-edged clouds. Mist rising from a nearby lake takes on an eerie pink glow and the scene is framed by imposing silhouettes of bare trees. This must be what the vampires see as they scurry back to their coffins.

MUST TAKE PICTURES!!

I'm suddenly in a flurry of crazed activity. Forgetting about my minimalist clothing, I open the car door to encounter the temperature of deep space. My first surprised, "Fuuuuuck!!" shoots out and hangs in the air like a snow cloud.

Despite the crap covering the back seat there's no jacket or gloves lurking there so it's now a race to find the tripod, mount the camera and take some pictures of this wondrous sky before I die of frostbite. But where is it?

Tomorrow I'll be more organized but today - it is what it is. It's not in the passenger seat well and not in the storage tubs behind the front seats. Everything in the back has to come out, so I pile the hiking tub, the cycling tub, the snow gear and the hand-truck onto the frosty ground, hoping the tripod is wedged somewhere between. It's not.

I look in each tub, pulling out boots, poles, bike shoes, helmet, snow shoes, ski gloves, camelbacks, boxes of nutrition bars - nothing.

My fingers feel like they're turning to ice by the time I find it, squeezed beside the spare wheel, under the floor with the jack and tools. How fucking sensible. Isn't that where every photographer would store his tripod? I'm going to write this down as a NEVER DO note to self.

How long does it take to get for skin and human tissue to die at this temperature?

A police car prowls by as my numb fingers are struggling to release the tripod's leg clasps and stand it up. Is he going to stop? Does it look like I’m planning to blow something up?

There's no sign that says I can't take pictures - but then there's none that says I can, either. Maybe this lake's private - but the road's not. I pay my taxes.

All that's left is to mount the camera. Fortunately the quick-release is always attached to the bottom so it’ll slide in with no fuss. Let’s hope there's enough feeling in my hands to set up a long exposure and work the shutter button.

That’s when my hasty and ill-prepared mission hits a snag.

There is no camera.

It's on the table back at the motel. Sunrise won’t last long enough to go back and collect it, so I just have to sit and watch.

I feel cheated. My shutter finger is redundant. It’s like having too much to drink with a new girlfriend and there’s no Viagra.

Luckily there’s still IHOP.

…and pancakes.