Preparation Is Key

         Last week’s blog entry outlined the simple fact that as a photographer you should always be ready for surprises when you’re out in the field. Anything can happen at anytime, and you should be as prepared for it as possible. If i’m wandering and there’s the slightest chance of an animal sighting i’ll have the telephoto lens on ready as I walk. There’s nothing worse than a fleeting moment arising, where everything comes together and its missed because you haven't got the right set-up. 

This week however, the shot in question is a good example of something which is prepared thoroughly in advance. You might think this is a laborious process but I actually get a real buzz from the prep stages. 

The shot was taken in Canyonlands National Park, Utah. It’s a familiar sight to landscape photographers in the United States, frequently featuring in outdoor photography publications and the national parks guides. I do hate to take photos of sights and objects that have been done to death, but this particular sight promised not only a great shot, but an amazing morning. 

The night before, I stayed in a hippy run youth hostel, which amazingly offered a log cabin for $30. At 3am my alarm sung out and I crawled out of bed, manufactured a coffee and deposited it in my trustee thermos. Making sure I was fully charged and ready, I hit the road. Its an hour drive from the local town of Moab to the scene. The location is known as Mesa Verde, and it had only come to my attention two days earlier, when I noticed a photo of it in the park’s official map. An hour in, I pulled into a small parking area and set out on the short trail. It’s a relatively short distance to the rock formation but the markings are hard to spot when its completely dark. I had my torch to light the ground and prevent me going over on the rough and rocky terrain, but seeing any major landmarks was nearly impossible. I made an error and at one point ended up going in a full circle, but by 4.30am I was stood in the right place. 

Mesa Verde is phenomenal. It’s main attraction is the lighting, when the sun rises over the canyon, for the briefest of moments, it lights the inside of the arch to create a beautiful spectacle. This last for perhaps twenty seconds, after which the best shots are no longer possible. For that reason, preparation is key. I had made certain to arrive early, knowing that the probability of being the only photographer present would be low. 

Sure enough, by 5am there were five or six other people trying to set up, all of them annoyed that some bright spark had gotten there early and seized the best angle to shoot from for himself. Planning. 

Photographers are often very interesting people and most have  pretty great tales of travel and adventure, so I made a few contacts while waiting for the sun to make it’s much anticipated grand entrance. When it did, I took a number of shot, varying my exposure, and then settle back with my coffee and soaked in the scene. 

The essentials for this shot included making sure to have a good steady tripod, finding the right angle was pivotal. Too far left and the full arch wouldn't be visible, too far right and its all rock and no canyon. I had to set a few presets up to make sure I didn't miss the moment. Food and rink are needed for an early desert hike and a good torch to find your way.

You Can't Always Plan

Sometimes you can’t write it. It happen’s without any planning or foresight. I’ver got a good number of shots out in the wild which required a lot of planning, often thinking about light, times, angles, accessories such as waterproofing or of course, hiking time. This photo didn’t come about that way at all!
Sometimes you just end up in the right place at the right time. Fortune, it turns out, can favor the oblivious. 
On this occasion we’d travelled for most of the day, making our way from Anchorage, Alaska to the tiny town of Ninilcik 160 miles away on the south coast. It’s a town with only 230 families, which suffered after a huge forest fire in 2007, damaging 197 houses, thats almost all of them. It was on our radar as a location for some beach clamming and to see a historic orthodox Russian church. Having no idea where to camp we pulled in to a nice little basic camping ground, erected our little tent and got some food on the camping grill. Later however, as the cloud learned over the bay I found my mouth dropping open. 
It turned out we were camping on the coast of a famous inlet, the Cook inlet. On the far side a phenomenal structure began to appear. The sun was fading and I had almost given up hope of a good shot, when a fishing fleet began to randomly accumulate in the bay. As if purposefully framing the shot for me, one vessel began to trawl across in front of what I realized was an enormous volcano.  
I’ve searched for a lot of outdoor shots all over the states, but this one gave itself to me. If you have a chance to explore Alaska, do it, because this kinda thing happens all the time! 
The photo was taken with a 50-300mm lens, at 300mm, F6.4 and Exp 1/640. 

Welcome to Howland Photography

Once again it's January in Chicago. This is, of course, predominantly a time for hibernation, hot chocolate and shivering. If tou enjoy a little outdoor photography then the shivering is mandatory. This photo, taken in the winter of 2014 during Chicago's much publicized Polar Vortex, shows the city, stubbornly sat in the background, surrounded by the vaporizing Lake Michigan and the ice covered land of Lincoln park. Of the six years i've now spent in the Midwest, I spent the first three winters considering my decision to move and the last three in awe of how stunning and otherworldly the place can appear when the temperatures drop and ice takes hold. A goal this season will be to collate an official winter series highlighting how amazing a polar city can look.