I don’t do spiders.

They are unnecessary and unacceptable. They can live happily somewhere else, literally anywhere else. Just not in my house, not in my car and never in my vicinity. When one is close by, murderous tendencies rise up, often resulting in the obliteration of said creature. In my defense I place a majority of the blame for hating spiders in a traumatic experience as a wee child. I’m the victim of a senseless crime of a childhood prank, a story I will not go into. It is not relevant and frankly I don’t want to relive it.

Fun fact, my favorite things to photograph are lakes and waterfalls. Being a landscape photographer that loathes spiders creates a problem. I’m no subject matter expert, but I do know that spiders tend to love wet environments. So it is not uncommon for my living nightmares to creep their way into my most coveted of scenes.

Canadice Lake.

I have always wanted to photograph Canadice Lake. One of the most easily forgotten Finger Lakes in NY, this tiny water reservoir for the city of Rochester resides between two much larger lakes that draw far more attention. However, for those who love a quiet, undeveloped lake it is a secluded slice of heaven.

Photographing the lake has been my goal for years. Going out kayaking on this lake was a more recent goal of mine. If I was going to drive 30 minutes to this lake for photos I might as well make a trip of it and knock out two goals in one. My wife and I enjoy kayaking together. She also enjoys, for some reason, watching me scramble around with all my camera equipment and sit awkwardly for hours at a time trying to capture a random scene. It was the perfect setup for a beautiful summer evening. It was a date.

The invited guests.

Ducks are cute. On our kayaking adventure we saw lots of ducks. We paddled eagerly toward them in an involuntary game of tag. A one-sided game, but a game nonetheless. They made their little noises, wiggled their butts and waddled away. It was fun. But now the time had come to get out of our aquatic vessels and explore areas for taking sunset photos.

I had scouted out areas a few weeks prior and figured we could hit them up for that ideal lighting and composition. The first area was a bit of a bust. I didn’t like the view and the lighting was on the wrong side of the lake. Why couldn’t the lake just be pointed in the other direction? That would have made this much simpler. Maybe the next time glaciers decide to form massive freshwater lakes they will be more considerate.

The second spot was the real gem; the area I was most excited about. Near the southernmost point of the lake, you have a great perspective of the valley and length of the body of water. A short hike through the woods lands you on a beach fit for half a person and a bench for the other half. It was small, tight, not ideal for laying out and catching a tan. That's ok though, I’m here to photograph a sunset.

The uninvited guest.

While exploring this, what I will call a “beach”, I sought a subject for my foreground. I saw somewhere on the internet that landscapes need to have a subject in the foreground to create depth. It must be true, I found it online. Regardless, I found a giant fallen tree. Being a perfect subject to catch the sharpness of the limbs in combination with the fluidity of a long exposure of the water, I ran to it quickly to compose my shot. Being awkwardly out into the water, I figured I’d have to get my feet wet to get the angles I was desiring. Then I saw it …

When I say this thing was the size of my hand, that should mean that it was massive. The unfortunate reality is I have very small hands. Hardly able to play an octave on a keyboard, my genetics failed me in that I’ll never be able to palm a basketball, nor will anyone accuse me of being overtly masculine. It was big, ok? Not my hands, the spider. Enough with making fun of my obnoxiously small hands!

I kindly passed on the opportunity to get into the water closer to my new found foe. The problem is that it now stood between me and the path back to my wife. Navigating back to safety required getting closer to it. I can’t believe I left my flamethrower at home.

Not wanting to spook my wife, I shimmied my way past and did not mention the existence of such a beast. Then she retraced my path unexpectedly and headed back down the path before I could say anything. Please note, she doesn’t like spiders, possibly more than me.

I’m a bad husband.

Before you judge me too badly, you have to put yourself in my shoes. See, I was safely away from this thing and had strong visibility on its location. It’s not my fault that she walked straight towards it. And to be fair, I knew she wasn’t THAT close to it. It's not like those things can jump … or can they? Either way, what mama don’t know don’t hurt mama.

I did tell her eventually. Then shortly after I lost all visual contact with the spider. That was enough for me to call it a day.