FEATURE PHOTO: Dry years, rainy years, it all has an impact on the tonality
of the foliage, but Big Bear’s ferns always deliver an impact. Photographed by Brett Rothmeyer
I sit on the front porch watching the steam rise from my coffee mug. It’s morning during the closing week of August, and already I’m in jeans and a flannel shirt. There’s a noticeable change in the air. While most of the northern hemisphere is desperately trying to hold onto what is left of summer, I recognize the beginnings of fall. Summer’s humidity fades like an old injury—you’re not sure if it’s gone at first and then realize a forgotten comfort you haven’t noticed in some time. On my morning trail ride, an hour goes by before I stop for a quick drink and notice I haven’t pushed the sweat out of my helmet pads even once. The leaves of the forest remain green, and the trail is a bit dusty, but deep down, I know fall is not far off.
I would argue that, for outdoor enthusiasts up and down the East Coast, fall is the best season to participate in our respective activities. For mountain bikers, autumn offers up not only cooler temperatures, but also heroic trail conditions. The slippery mud of spring and the dusty unpredictability of summer give way to tacky perfection. The muggy rides to swimming holes are replaced with all-day adventures in the crisp air.
When surfers get barreled, they call it being in the green room. Scott Williams is performing the mountain biker equivalent in the gold room. A splash of falling maple leaves in the foreground add some dramatic effect. Pitted, so pitted.
The desire to queue up camping trips rises a bit higher when the nighttime temperatures make crawling into a sleeping bag feel cozy and inviting rather than sweltering and miserable.
I’ve long held the sentiment that summer is for flings, and fall is where real love is established. My lifelong affair with cycling may have begun in the summer, but it wasn’t until that first October after purchasing a mountain bike that it became all-encompassing. My early days of mountain biking were a trial by fire, as my road cycling legs propelled me down the trail faster than my burgeoning handling skills could manage. The weekdays spent on my local trails, followed by weekends of racing in Western Pennsylvania’s Month of Mud series, solidified my growing obsession.
The trails of Big Bear light up when their Jurassic-sized ferns go from green to golden yellow, providing dramatic scenery for an already dramatic rock drop.
Years later, I began to combine my loves of photography and cycling. At first, I would toss my old film camera in my race bag and snap a couple of frames in between racing and hanging out. It wasn’t long until I realized I had more potential as a photographer than a bike racer. Nailing quality photos quickly became more important than any hopes of impressive race results. The quest for better photographs spiraled out of control, and by luck or stubbornness, I managed to carve out a small career. Most of my work, like my passion, remains rooted in cycling. I now spend the better part of the year on the road, shooting events and chasing down stories for various outlets.
A combination of early morning light and a little bit of fall color can add a lot to a photo. Getting up early or staying out until sunset can be a big help when chasing fall photographs.
Jason Cyr is no stranger to the big and burly lines on the trails around Davis, WV. From hucks to slabs and rock gardens to gaps and vertical roll-ins, Cyr can do it all. But for steep rock moves, it can be hard to convey just how steep they actually are. This is a good example of when your lens choice can make a big difference. Getting up close to the feature and rider with a wide-angle lens, think 20mm or wider, can give the viewer a sense of just how steep the terrain really is.
Along with providing ideal conditions for riding, the fall season delivers the same for photography. The foliage creates a vivid palette, turning even the simplest frames into painterly visions. Placing a rider, runner, or climber into the scene tends to evoke wanderlust in even the most tepid of the outdoor-curious.
As a photographer and mountain biker, my awareness of fall’s seasonal perfection—and its brief window—are at the forefront of my mind each year. Maximizing my time both on the bike and behind the camera has become my modus operandi while chasing color from Big Bear to Snowshoe and beyond. I’ve been lucky enough over the last several years to visit trail networks far and wide during the fall season, and the golden cinnamon ferns that line Big Bear’s rugged trails in late October possess a special kind of magic found nowhere else.
For photographers and mountain bikers alike, the wilds of West Virginia during autumn provide the perfect palette for creating stunning imagery, all while enjoying world-class singletrack. In its brief perfection, fall provides us with the inspiration to get out and make the most of it. The fleeting colors and winter’s inevitable return fuel the outings well into November. The camera captures these moments of brilliance in fractions of a second, but the feeling of those images will carry me throughout the year until fall comes around once again.
Scott Williams climbs through a leaf peeper’s dream on an unknown trail deep in the backcountry.
Brett Rothmeyer is a photographer and writer based in Pittsburgh, PA, who pines to be flying through The Pines on a bike at Big Bear when the ferns turn orange every October.
