Today was a glorious, sunny, bluebird-sky day, with an unheard of high temperature of 16 degrees Celsius. I really, really, really wanted to go out and get some photography done while the trees are still wearing their autumn finery, and to be able to do so without freezing my fingers off would be a bonus. I succumbed to temptation.

I specifically wanted to return to a waterfall I'd photographed and blogged back in June. It's in a gorgeous but rather remote spot; off the beaten path even in this off the beaten path area of Ontario. Knowing that the chances were very good that I would be the only one on the trail, my biggest misgiving was the very real possibility of encountering a bear. They've been very bold this year, driven by hunger to come and forage openly in the village and other human habitats they would normally steer clear of. So I did a bit of mental weighing of the pros and cons, and in the end the prospect of getting autumn waterfall pictures won out over caution and common sense. I did however take some measures of prudence: I left a note on the table so that on the off chance I did perish, at least people would know where to look. I pared down my camera equipment to a bare (bear?) minimum - one camera body, one lens, one filter, all in a mini-backpack that would still allow me to run if necessary. And a tripod, which would do double duty as camera support and as a ''big stick'' - that is to say a potential bear javelin, if not to wound, to at least distract momentarily and allow me to flee. I put on a white raincoat with loud red polka dots, so the bear would be able to see me coming (or so the search party could find me more easily). 

I was indeed the only person there, and I hiked through the woods stomping dramatically and jingling my car keys. I made it to the falls without even seeing any bear poop, let alone bears. This was comforting. 

These falls, though, seem to have some really bad juju for me. Last time I was here, we had the infamous Nikon-takes-a-bath incident, and one of my lenses is still not right from that little escapade. This time around, the Canon, perched on the tripod and saddled with a 10-stop neutral density filter on the end of the lens, was clearly unhappy about trying to focus through all that darkness: it completely lost its little mind and threw an error message and stopped doing anything resembling functioning. Happily, the tried and true remedy of removing the battery and then putting it back in again was enough to overcome the electronic brain fart, but I couldn't help thinking that Skeleton Falls does have some kind of curse.

But at least it did not have bears. This time.