Staying Close to Home

Back in February I presciently posted an entry on the virtues of shooting on the doorstep. At the end of March it seems that it's all that we can do. Depending on where you live, this is either more or less of a convenience. I'm actually enjoying working from home. The boy-child made it home safely over a week ago and at the time of writing we're waiting on tenterhooks to see whether the girl-child manages to get on a flight back first thing tomorrow morning. No doubt none of us will sleep well tonight.

Snowbells || Olympus f5.6, 1/1250 s, ISO 200

Photographically speaking, it's a chance to sit back and take stock. I'm very fortunate to have a picturesque little wood at the bottom of the village that has a lot of potential, plus the garden is beginning to erupt, so there's a lot of macro work to do. I'd been looking for a chance to play about with some focus stacking and I guess now's my chance. On top of that, even though I'm working during the day, I now have a lot more free time in the evenings - I'm usually out at least three evenings a week and those meetings are either on hiatus or taking place online, freeing up time that would be spent travelling to and from Munich.

My Local Woods

There are other ways of investing time in my photographic skills, whether working on post-processing or making use of the plethora of online resources out there. Just this weekend I've come across another landscape photographer via the ON1 Photo Raw tutorials who has several online courses available. Hudson Henry's Approaching the Scene series on YouTube is going to keep me going for quite a while.

The Boy-Child is Back || Olympus f4, 1/640 s, ISO 200

A Walk in the Woods

It seems to me that there are two or three categories of photographers; there are those who know in the field precisely what makes a good image and will go out and take two or three photos and they will all be strong images. Thomas Heaton appears to fall into this category. Then there are those who recognise beauty when they see it but aren't sure how to capture it to make a good photo and end up taking lots of images, a few of which will be keepers. I like to think that I fall into this category. The third category, well, we won't talk about them, but we all know some people who fall into this group.

Here's a good example of what I mean. As we were walking through the woods, we cam across this fresh woodpile with the sun shining on the bright ends. My initial snap was just about OK, the second shot a bit better, but for the third I got down on my knees. The perspective is much better and although not a portfolio shot, I was quite happy with this one.

The Log Pile, 1st Attempt || Olympus f4.5, 1/125 s, ISO 200

The Log Pile, Better || Olympus f4, 1/125 s, ISO 200

Similarly, a few metres further down the track we caught this mist against the light. Again it took me a couple of attempts to capture the scene adequately. The first shot was my initial reaction to the mist - shooting from the hip so-to-speak. The second was after I'd had a minute or two to hunt down a proper composition.

Mist Rising I || Olympus f4.5 1/50 s, ISO 200

Mist Rising II || Olympus f4.5 1/100 s, ISO 200

Out of the woods we circled back towards home though open fields and lots of solitary tree goodness. There are a couple of stands of my favourites as well, the mighty silver birch. Here with a bit of Orton magic, just because.

Orton Birch || Olympus f4, 1/500 s, ISO 200

In the Back Garden

Of course there are some genres of photography where you have to take a lot of photos to get just a few good shots. Wildlife photography is certainly one of those genres, whether birds or, in this instance, bees. We have a young nectarine tree guesting with us at the moment (long story, it was a present from one of my choirs to one of our singers last year for his new house which is still being built, in the meantime we're looking after it). Sipping tea on the terrace yesterday afternoon after spending all day in the garden clearing up after the winter storms I noticed a couple of bees humming around it, collecting pollen and so I grabbed the camera to see whether I could catch them in the act.

Michael's Herrenbesuch Tree I || Olympus f11, 1/400 s, ISO 200

Michael's Herrenbesuch Tree II || Olympus f9, 1/320 s, ISO 200

The tree has beautiful pink blossoms and a lovely petal structure. I spent about 10 minutes yesterday trying to catch a sharp photo of the bees, took the SD card inside and plugged it into the PC, only to be disappointed. None of the bee shots had turned out sharp. It was then I remembered that I also have a Hoya +3 diopter screw-in lens for the front of my zoom. So it was on with the magnifier and back out to the nectarine, where I was able to get these shots. The magnifier lets me get much closer to the bees, but it does come at a cost of depth of field.

As with all animal portraits, the eyes have to be in focus for a decent photo. Almost got it...

Nearly, but not quite || Olympus f11, 1/320 s, ISO 200

And this was my shot of the day. Not 100% sharp, but I'm happy with this for a first attempt:

Bee on Blossom || Olympus f11, 1/400 s, ISO 200

Stay safe, stay well, and we'll catch you on the other side of this mess.

Dolomites Revisited Part I

There's something very special about the Dolomites to me (yeah, I get it, I'm hardly alone in my opinion, but give me a chance to explain myself). Hardly anyone will dispute that this exquisite mountain range is extremely photogenic for a number of reasons, but it's more than that. We've been coming here on and off for over 17 years - I know exactly when we first came because our kids celebrated their first birthday in Seis am Schlern (Alpe di Siusi if you're an italophone). Our choice of venue was influenced in part by photos of Alpenglühen on the Rosengarten that I'd seen in the German alpine press.

Forcella Staunies - the Since Decommissioned Cable Car and Refuge || Panasonic FZ1000

But it's more than just 17 years of history. I've been pondering for a while what is so special about the region to me. We've travelled all over the Alps over the years, from the Mont Blanc massive in the west to the Säntis in north east Switzerland, from the German Allgäu around Oberstdorf to the high mountains of Austria and there's not a corner that doesn't have it's own special character and appeal. So why the Dolomites?

The Inaccessible-Looking Paternkofel || Panasonic FZ1000

Apart from the general picturesqueness (is that a word?) and many fond memories - including several hiding in tents waiting for the rain to stop, I think it's the apparent inaccessibility of the peaks that turn out to be achievable after all. Case in point is the Paternkofel pictured above; the picture is of Sharon enjoying a late lunch at the Dreizinnenhütte just after having climbed this mountain. In a way it's an allegory about life in general to me. The problems we face sometimes appear insurmountable, but many times, if we follow the trail and keep putting one foot in front of the other, we'll get where we want to go. I'm sure others could express it more eloquently, but I think this sums it up.

Field Gentians || Panasonic FZ1000

A Tale of Two Tours

Two tours spring to mind that epitomise this apparent inaccessibility, both of which we undertook whilst camping in Cortina in 2015, two tours which almost ended my mountaineering days for good as I abraded my way through the cartilage behind my kneecaps. The first one is presently no longer possible without an overnight bivouac in tricky territory - the Ivano Dibona via ferrata above Cortina. The ridge looks impossible from the valley and remains impressive close up with its ladders and bridges. Despite having set off with the first cable cars from Passo Tre Croci, we missed the last gondola down and ended up descending the whole 1700 m (5,500 ') by foot.

One of the Bridges on Ivano Dibona  || Panasonic FZ1000

View from the Ridge: A Dolomite Panorama  || Panasonic FZ1000

The second tour a couple of days later took us up the impervious-looking Paternkofel right next to the Tre Cime. We'd left far too late, waited for ages at the toll station just after Lago d'Antorno and got stuck behind coach loads of tourists who had absolutely no place on the trails we were using! Just before the Dreizinnenhütte, a path branches off to the right up along the ridge. The ferrata starts in WWI tunnels and turns into a grand scramble up a cleft before climbing up the back of the peak. Unfortunately we weren't the only people who wanted to go up that day, but sometimes these things have to be done.

Hardly Alone on the Paternkofel  || Panasonic FZ1000

Bringing it Forward

Fast forward to autumn 2019 and for the first time in 18 years Sharon and I can plan our vacations without regard to the kids and so we took a mini break in Cortina over the long German reunification weekend at the beginning of October. We knew that we'd be arriving on an improving forecast and so it didn't bother us too much that the weather was less than perfect driving up over the Brenner pass. What we hadn't appreciated was that the rain in the valleys had been a smattering of snow on the high peaks all around us and that consequently the rock walls surrounding Cortina would be garnished with a layer of snow.

Out the Front Door || Olympus f7.1, 1/100 s, ISO 400

Once we had settled into our cosy little Air B&B it was time to unpack the cameras and enjoy the late afternoon light hitting the Sorapiss massive. We'd come fully armed for three and a half days of photography in the surrounding mountains. We've come to photography from the perspective of mountaineers rather than the other way around and I think that this will always be the case for us.

Our first little trip on the hillside behind the farm we were staying on was very muddy, taking us to the top of a little cable car. The view included basically the whole of the Cortina surroundings; Monte Cristallo, Sorapiss, Croda di Lago and Tofana - essentially the Who's Who of the great and good in the Dolomites.

Punta Nera || Olympus f8, 1/200 s, ISO 200

Just walking round the little hamlet of Chiamulera gave us a buzz for the upcoming three days. We'd not been long back from a photographically frustrating week on The Gower; despite having mostly decent weather I'd found getting images that I felt satisfied with extremely frustrating. Here in the Dolomites not only was I practically on home turf, the weather looked set to be interesting (as opposed to good - the hiker and the photographer have quite different ideas regarding what constitutes 'good' weather). The game was afoot!

Day 1: One Lake - Lago Federa

There are some cracking shots of Lake Federa in the autumn, looking from the western shore of this small mountain tarn eastwards towards Sorapiss. The small ridge between the lake and the Cortina valley is covered in fir and larch and in October the larch turn from their customary green to a glorious yellow.

Forest Mushrooms || Olympus f7.1, 1/8 s, ISO 1600

Walking up through the woods from below Pocol on the SR48 we kept our eyes out for mushrooms - always worth watching for at this time of year when walking in the forest. The area guide that we used for the hike suggested taking a detour to a local outcrop, Becco d'Ajal. What looks like a completely inaccessible pillar from below turns out to be an easily climbed path once you get up there. The top of the pillar isn't big but houses the ruins of a WWI lookout post. The panoramic views from the top are incredible and I could imagine camping out there in the summer to capture some great astro images.

Ruin Atop Becco d'Ajal Becco d'Ajal from Above

As we climbed through the forest the green larches were getting paler and paler and we were hoping for some strong yellows at the 2,000 m high lake. Unfortunately this was not to be; despite the recent snowfalls we were about two weeks too early. Fortunately, the hut was still open. Paradoxically, compared to the northern alps, the refuges and cable cars in the Dolomites seem to close quite early - towards the end of September. The Rifugio Croda di Lago was still serving cheesy polenta on the sun terrace though. The hut remains open throughout October and this would be a great place to spend the night, catching the late evening and early morning sun. I've seen some great sunrise images from Andy Mumford looking along the lake to the south towards the Becco di Mezzodi.

Lago Federa - Only a Touch of Yellow || Olympus f8, 1/50 s, ISO 200

After lunch we explored the western slopes above the lake trying to get the best angle on the lake and the Sorapiss. Scrambling up about 50 m above the lake seemed to give a good perspective, but if you want a reflection you need to be right down on the water. Tofana and Cinque Torri || Olympus f8, 1/320 s, ISO200 The descent had us facing the Tofana and the Cinque Torri all the way through the forest. And it's a long way, especially on dodgy knees. Croda da Lago at Dawn from the East || Olympus f8, 1/80 s, ISO 200 LAGO FEDERA: QUICK SUMMARY Best Conditions All year round, but particularly autumn for the larches Challenges The lake is at least a 2 h trek from the road in mountainous territory Parking Various points along the SR48 Einkehr Rifugio Croda da Lago Links Rifugio (Italian)

Ten Below Zero

At about the same time as we came to Bavaria, two of our friends moved to southern Norway. Over the years we've kept in touch and every few years visited each other. With the children out of the nest, we decided to use the opportunity to head north this winter for a week's cross country skiing with them up at their cabin in the hills above Lillehammer. The temperature maximum for the whole week was - 9°C, a fleeting moment on Tuesday lunchtime if memory serves, and with a perceived wind chill of a further -10°C, so it didn't really count anyway. 

The Hills at Fagerhoy || F8, 1/640 s, ISO 200

Shooting in snow and in minus temperatures is challenging. Because of the inherent brightness of the conditions we need to shoot even further to the right than normal to avoid muddying things and without losing any details to the highlights. Unless I'm deliberately shooting high key, where it doesn't matter if parts of the photo are washed out, I like to be able to see at least a breath of detail in even the brightest parts of a photo, otherwise it disturbs me as much as a wonky horizon. So, shoot as far to the right as possible. 

The next problem is the cold, whether out during the day or during the two astro sessions at night. Either the battery didn't like it or the lens frosted over. When I'm hiking or cross country skiing I like to have the camera attached to my rucksack strap with a Peak Design capture plate; I'm more a runner and gunner rather than a tripod shooter. At -15°C the battery only lasts so long strapped to the shoulder and the padded holster tends to interfere either with the arms if attached to the hip or certain parts of the male anatomy if it's further round to the front. On the coldest days there was no other option if I wanted to take photos though. 

Blue Shining Through || F7.1, 1/320 s, ISO 200

The challenge the first few days was more a question of abundance of light and lack of familiarity with the landscape. Bright blue skies on snow make very high contrast images, turning almost everything else in the frame black, whether trees or people. And although we'd been to this location once before, it had been at the end of summer rather than the middle of winter. There was no reverting to my standard approach of focusing on the foreground or foliage - there simply wasn't any, and the landscape is significantly different to my normal alpine stamping grounds, the skies are much more wide open than I'm used to. 

Intimate details

Whilst trying to get the lie of the land, my eye was caught by some easier intimate shots, my safety fallback. I know some photographers struggle to see these mini landscapes, but my eye seems to be tuned to these more compact pictures somehow. In the snowy landscape it was the folds in the hills where streams run in summer, the collections of bushes on a hillside or an isolated farmstead, abandoned for the winter. The subtle shots. 

The Folds || F6.3, 1/1000 s, ISO 200

Sometimes you don't have to look for the compositions, they veritably jump out at you such as here with the frost covered birch trees. There are essentially two types of trees on the hillsides around Skeikampen, either the dark firs or the stunted coppery birch, both of which simply appear to be black against the blinding white snow. The last two nights in the cabin there was enough mist at night that it formed hoarfrost on the wind-stunted birch, adding a third shade to the otherwise stark black/white contrast. This alone was enough to grab all of our interests, the grey tones adding a significant point of interest to the scene. 

The Folds || F6.3, 1/1000 s, ISO 200

Fjell Farmsted || F8, 1/400 s, ISO 200

Norwegian hyttekultur 

The Norwegians love their mountain cabins, their home from homes in the wilds (and less than wilds). In fact it's not unknown for them to invest more in their weekend houses than their town dwellings; a small flat in Oslo and a comfortable cabin in the hills. My research tells me that in 2008, every second Norwegian had access to a second home of some kind. The hills around Skeikampen are littered with these cabins in a range of sizes and styles, anything from the simple wooden structures to low-lying dwellings made from the local stone, sometimes with grass roofs. In fact some of them blend in so well that you don't appreciate how many there are dotted around the countryside until dusk, when they all light up. 

The Folds || F4, 1/3 s, ISO 1600

Layers

Morning mist on the last morning gave us the double bonus of a touch of hoar frost together with some sweet layers. The time windows were quite narrow though, even with temperatures below - 10°C, as soon as the mist lifted the late February sun warmed the branches of the trees and the frost quickly disappeared. The transformation from magical to mundane was very stark. 

Layers in the Forest || F8, 1/1250 s, ISO 200

Frosty Forest || F8, 1/1000 s, ISO 200

Astro 

There were two new bits of gear that I took with me that I was itching to try out; my Benro Geared Head and a new Haida Clear Night astro filter. Added to that I had some ideas about how to shoot some star trails using the Olympus Live Composite mode; essentially this in-camera setting allows you to take a single starting exposure and then press the shutter a second time and the camera starts a series of shots that only record additional light - it's useful for lightning storms for example, allowing you essentially to take a long exposure without danger of overexposing the base image. Other cameras require you to take a series of images and then stack them additively in post. Live Comp allows you to do it in a single image. The disadvantage is that a single complication can ruin the whole 30 min shot (a car driving past, for example, or somebody knocking the tripod by accident), the advantage that you can do the whole thing in one take without stacking. 

After a couple of test images taking multiple 30" exposures over about 5 min I tried a first 30 min image on the first night out. A couple of nights later I'd scouted out a much better location pointing north towards the pole star overlooking the local village. I deliberately placed the pole star* off centre as I felt that having it dead centre would have been boring. The final shot is a composite of three images; one for the sky, one for the brightly lit village and one for the snowy forest. Assembling and masking the layers in ON1 was tricky, particularly the border between the night sky and the fir trees, but I'm quite happy with the end result. 

Pole Star over Skeikampen || F2.8, 40 min, ISO 1600, 30 s ISO 200 and 30 s ISO 6400

*The pole (north) star can be found by drawing an imaginary line connecting the two stars at the back of The Plough (Big Dipper, The Wagon or Ursa Major) and following it about 5 repeats upwards until you get to the next bright star.

One thing that I was quite eager to see while we were so far north (for us at least) was the northern lights and I loaded the Aurora app on my phone before we left. I rather naively thought that we'd be seeing them every other night and so was quite disappointed when the KP forecast was only 2/8, rising to a maximum of 4/8 in the middle of the week. Imagine my surprise (and excitement) then when looking at my first test shot looking north to see a green fringe on the horizon! There was absolutely nothing visible to the naked eye, but a 25" exposure revealed a clear trace of the northern lights. 

The winter Milky Way isn't all that much to look at, but here's my final take on Cygnus and the Northern Lights. Single shot edited in ON1 Photo RAW 2020.

Northern Lights at Skeikampen || F2.8, 60 s, ISO ISO 6400

Regarding the new gear, the Benro certainly makes precise alignments a whole lot easier, making focusing much simpler too, using the camera focus zoom to centre in on a bright star. Whether or not the star filter brings a lot to the table remains to be seen. There isn't a whole lot of light pollution in central Norway and I didn't have the presence of mind to do any with/without comparisons, so they're all 'with'. 

One error that I'm consistently making with my astro shots is foreground exposure. Because it's dark, the images on the back screen of the camera appear comparatively bright, but take the image indoors and it's a very different picture. 

Panoramas

I have a love-hate relationship with panoramas. It's something that I'd love to be able to do well, but feel that it's a discipline that I haven't yet mastered. I'm comfortable with the 16:9 format, but anything longer than that is challenging. I don't know whether it's simply a question of size - that I can't envisage how the picture would look printed big, or whether it's something more fundamental. Whatever it is, it's going to require significant work to consistently arrive at images I'm happy with (with the exception of this one). Be sure to let me know if you have a suggestion concerning how to improve my panoramic game. 

Over the Fjells || F8, 1/1000 s, ISO 200

So, those are my 10 'below zero' shots. What adventures have you got coming up, and what preparations are you making for the photography? 

Shooting in the City: A Change of Scene

Munich by Night || Huawei P30 Pro

There’s a good reason why we live outside of the city and put up with a 60 min commute each way during the week; we need our green space! The 15 min bike track from the station to home really helps us decompress and we’ll often startle hares on our route in through the fields and forest in the early morning. I grew up in rural Wiltshire and the rolling countryside west of Munich bears more than just a passing resemblance to the chalk downs of my youth. Being a country lad, at least 95% of my images are taken in the countryside – either in the mountains or out-and-about locally, but every now and again I’m struck by something in the city of Munich where I work and have to whip out my P30 Pro – bought with exactly this in mind.

Munich Hackerbrücke || Huawei P30 Pro

Zentraler Omnibus Bahnhof  || Huawei P30 Pro

The Same, But Different

I work right next to the Hackerbrücke in Munich, a wrought iron bridge built in 1890 and crossing 26 separate rail tracks just west of the main station (leading lines galore!). The tracks run east-west, making sunrise and sunset shots a gimme, particularly in the winter months when my commute regularly takes place in the golden hour or the blue hour. Photography in the city has a very different feel to it to photography in nature. The combination of familiar ground (I follow the same route every day), the strong geometry provided by man-made structures, the combination of natural and artificial light, a different colour scheme and the interruption of people are all significant changes to my usual subjects and are a welcome change. The same rules of composition apply, the same positioning game – where do I stand so that the mast doesn’t stick out but blend into the background? It's the same but different. The standard perspective can sometimes even be exchanged for a bird’s-eye view.

Swooosh || F4, 2 s, ISO 200

One of the first ever images I took with my Olympus EM-1 Mk II was this shot of a tram at Karlsplatz. I didn’t believe at the time that the IBIS (in body image stabilisation) could be anything like as good as they said it was and set out to test for myself whether a 2 s hand-held shot was even possible. To my complete amazement, the sign bearing the road name came out sharp as a tack whilst the tram gave me this beautiful sweeping line of blue-white light. I don’t think I’ve ever had a camera before where there wasn’t at least a little bit of buyer’s remorse. Only the recent advent of the Mk III has led me to wistfully check the coffers to see whether I could justify shelling out the requisite Euros. Sadly I cannot.

At the Hackerbrücke 

There are so many angles around the Hackerbrücke, so many nooks and crannies I could probably take a different shot each day for a year (now there's an idea!). Depending on the time of day the sun lights up different aspects of the various buildings. One of the great things about shooting here are the contrasts between the various ages and styles of the buildings themselves, the colours, shapes and angles and the way they catch the light at different times, such as the ship's-bridge-like structure of the control tower at the Hackerbrücke with the bridge and modern offices in the background.

Control Tower at Hackerbrücke || Huawei P30 Pro

Kurt Haertel Passage || Huawei P30 Pro

Hackerbrücke S-Bahn || Huawei P30 Pro

Oktoberfest 

Anyone who has heard of Munich has heard of the Oktoberfest. Actually, it's probably the other way round - Oktoberfest is probably more famous than its host city. My office lies on the route between the main S-Bahn station that people use to get to the Oktoberfest and the site of the festival, meaning that we are always spoilt for choice for photos when walking between the buildings at lunchtime, whether the horse-drawn dreys that still ply the streets or the people in their local costumes - Tracht.

A Munich Drey || Huawei P30 Pro

I Wonder Where They're Headed || Huawei P30 Pro

Oktoberfest Drey || Huawei P30 Pro

Working about half a mile from the site where this annual festival gives me plenty of perspective on the comings and goings, especially when trying to stem the tide of evening visitors on my route home as you can see below. Getting down to the platform can sometimes be a challenge and colleagues of less stature than myself (I'm about 6'1" and am anything but slight) have been known to use my wake to cross the Hackerbrücke of an evening.

Chaos at the Hackerbrücke || Huawei P30 Pro

Offices

As the light changes through the year, leaving the office at more or less the same time every day I get to experience the same scenes in daylight, the golden- and blue-hours as well as full night in the dark days of December. Balancing the levels between natural and artificial light can lead to some powerfully graphic images. Combine this with the strong lines offered by the architecture and you get some image magic!

Office Block at Hackerbrücke  || Huawei P30 Pro

Office Block at Hackerbrücke  || Huawei P30 Pro

Office Block at Hackerbrücke  || Huawei P30 Pro

Sunsets

The real treat leaving work (well, apart from the obvious), is when it coincides with a cool sunset. Whether the burnt-out copper tones of a summer evening or the delicious orange to blues of a cool spring, the colour palette is seemingly infinite. Bouncing the light off the glass-fronted buildings seems to stretch the available light.

Hackerbrücke from the Hauptbahnhof || Huawei P30 Pro

Leading Lines Galore  || Huawei P30 Pro

Hackerbrücke Sunsets || Huawei P30 Pro

The astute reader will have noticed that many of the images here are taken with my P30 Pro instead of my trusty Olympus. Of course I could take my snazzy DSLR with me to work every day, but it's not really practical. The P30 goes with me practially everywhere and is also capable of producing top quality images, after all:

Sometimes, the best camera is simply the one you have with you at the time.