DAYBREAK
Capturing Augusta Before The Gates Open
S
"The grass unfolds like an emerald carpet,
as beautiful and pristine as you’ve been told."
"I have only minutes to make
a few photographs before thousands of electrified patrons stream onto the grounds."
have only minutes to make a few photographs before thousands of electrified patrons stream onto the grounds, so I don’t venture very far. Instead, I concentrate on a few of my favorite scenes: the architectural beauty of the Southern-style clubhouse and its wraparound second-story porch, windows and lights aglow in the morning mist, the green-and-white umbrellas symmetrically arranged outside, and one of the giant live oaks that predate the tournament. It’s remarkably serene and impossible not to reflect on the game’s legends who have walked where I now walk. In the stillness, it’s just me, my camera and 85 years of Masters history.
I
DAYBREAK AT THE MASTERS
"There’s a layer of fog that’s
just beginning to lift
as I enter the grounds."
"In the stillness, it’s just me,
my camera and 85 years of
Masters history."
ome of my fondest memories of the Masters don’t involve what goes on between the ropes. As a credentialed photographer, I’m allowed to roam the course at dawn — about 15 to 30 minutes before the gates open to the public. On the best of these mornings, there’s a layer of fog that’s just beginning to lift as I enter the grounds. The grass unfolds like an emerald carpet, as beautiful and pristine as you’ve been told. The only markings are the footprints and geometric patterns formed in the dew by the grounds crew’s final preparations. The morning’s first light cuts through the haze, casting ribbons of pale gold across the humps and swells of the tee boxes and fairways.