Moose Peterson - Takeoff: The Alpha to Zulu of Aviation Photography

Sharon flying in a Waco QCF

For me, I havent gotten close to that limit that started decades ago. Wed gathered our stuff from the station wagon, the whole family in tow, as we walked toward the entrance. I was perhaps six or seven, holding my dads hand, while walking in, and boy was I excited to see the planes! It was an overcast day with the sun just starting to make its presence felt on the morning. The roar that seemed to be off in the distance soon went screaming past and I looked up just in time to see fire coming from the back of those fast planes. My dad looked down at me and said, Those are the Blue Angels and they are just the start, as we watched them fly off into the warmly lit haze and disappear from view. That was my first air show at Point Mugu, CA, and I was hooked!

My fathers start was at age 16 in ROTC for what was then the Army Air Corps and when WWII started, he was right there flying. He wasnt a pilot, though, he flew a Cub that someone had on base. He was a navigator/bombardier in a B-29 in the Pacific during WWII and Korea. Like many, he was a kid going off to war, and like so many, the camaraderie it brought was life changing. He and his crew and squadron mates lived and breathed aircraft! My memories from the rest of that day at the Point Mugu Air Show, other than being scared to death by the surprise and low pass of the Blue Angels, are of sheer fun! For the next decade, while sitting around a campfire in the backcountry of the Sierra, my father told me stories of those days in the B-29 and the aircraft that protected them.

I still have his flight jacket, plane ID books, and training manuals. Inside of them are my drawings I did as a kid, trying to bring those aircraft closer. On Sundays, my family would go to LAX, walk up to the departure gates, and watch the planes and people come and go (an era long gone, sadly). My dad would tell me more stories and solve some of the mysteries of flight for me. I have no doubt that in the sharing of all of his stories, my fathers romance with flight and aircraft planted the seeds.

There are a thousand reasons why a photographer first begins to pursue one particular genre of photography over another. In my case, it was a chance comment that got me pointing my lens at an aircraft in 2008, and the bug finally bit after 25 years of pointing my lens at critters. Now, you might think its a guy thing, but such is not the case! I know a lot of great lady aviation photographers who are really, really good and have been at it a whole lot longer than me.

So then, just what is it? Why do we photograph aircraft? I live in the Sierra, which is part of the flight path during the summer for the NAS Fallon and NAWS China Lake F/A-18s. The valley reverberates as the F/A-18s pass overhead. And nearly without exception, as they do, heads turn skyward as folks scan the skies to catch a glimpse of a plane as it roars past. Those who find it in the sky point upward and smiles appear. Airplanes are a part of our lives in some way or another, from the movies we watch, to how we travel from coast to coast, to simply flying overhead. Leaving earth with our imaginations or in reality, flight tugs at our heartstrings in a unique and special way.