Back West, the words “game fair’ would bring to mind one of two things. First, it may conjure images of some sort of hunting season party; maybe a celebration of the first day of the hunt, with beer and tall tales and maybe some fresh venison or elk. Guys standing around in Carhartt and camp and grimy baseball caps. (Damn, now i’m getting homesick.)
Alternately, it might bring up mental images of the last mid-winter board game marathon Jake and I took part in. Often occurring suspiciously around our birthdays (yes, we share the same January birthday, one year apart) we’ve been known to take part in Axis & Allies and Dr. Who monopoly marathons. Depending on the booze that is around, I guess it can become a sort of game fair.
But this game fair was something different all together. I spent last weekend documenting the Game Fair (note the capitalization) at Orvis’ Sandanona Shooting Grounds in the Hudson River Valley. The oldest permitted shooting preserve in the States, the facility boasts a clubhouse built in the era of Jefferson’s presidency, and is home to an impressive sporting clays course, several hunting fields, and a host of other ways to play.
Naturally, the Montana girl in me bristles a bit at the words “clubhouse” and “Hudson River Valley.” Back home, clubhouse roughly translates into bar, and Hudson River Valley is some weird land near NYC where people wear pleated pants. I had been down to Sandanona once before, doing research and exploring the facility with the Orvis Adventures team before I re-wrote the copy for the website. The instructors, professional as they were, wore ball caps and field pants, and weren’t afraid to share a laugh with us. So, I knew there would be at least some cool folks around.
In short, it was a target rich environment. I could have filled several memory cards at the event… everywhere I looked there was something else begging to be captured with the camera. From falconry displays to fly-fishing lessons, working dog seminars, cooking courses, a rather capacious trade fair, a Land Rover driving course, and (of course) shooting, there was plenty to photograph.
And the people.
The people were fascinating. There was, as expected, a heavy presence of the requisite tweed. But I also caught sight of jeans and field shirts and boots. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I love to people watch, and this was a veritable compilation of humanity and their own interpretations of “sporting style.”
I’ll let the images speak for themselves, but suffice to say it was a fascinating weekend and an intriguing look into the traditions of the sporting lifestyle.
As you are reading this (Sunday morning, most likely) I’m up in the Adirondacks on a weekend fishing / photography excursion… images next week.
