Tag Archives: national park

Wilderness Basics

Clear Creek cuts a path from the North Rim to the Colorado River in Grand Canyon. It is also home to one of the sweetest perennial water flows in the great chasm. Arguably, the signature feature of Clear Creek is the 10-foot waterfall about a mile from the Colorado River. It is a popular day hike destination, both for river parties and for backpackers. This 1-second exposure captures the delicate beauty of the sideways waterfall and invites you to make Clear Creek a destination on your next visit to Grand Canyon National Park. (Bill Ferris)

Clear Creek cuts a path from the North Rim to the Colorado River in Grand Canyon. Arguably, the signature feature of Clear Creek is the sideways 10-foot waterfall about a mile from the river. (Bill Ferris)

Last month, I did my 23rd overnight backpack in Grand Canyon National Park. The first was in 2006, an experience that forged a lifelong connection to the most spectacular of America’s national parks. During the years since, I have hiked nearly 1,160 miles and camped 109 nights below the rim. From Nankoweap to Crazy Jug north of the river and south from the Little Colorado to Bass, I’ve walked through every side canyon that empties into the mighty Colorado.

What motivates these treks is two-fold. First, is the deeply spiritual experience of hiking in Grand Canyon. It is a feeling and place like no other. Second, is the opportunity and challenge of using my camera to capture the magnificence of this natural wonder. This recent trip confirmed my thinking about the equipment and techniques essential to making a successful photograph in a wilderness environment. In short, you need to get back to basics.

Wilderness backpacking is an activity where success or failure rests on your ability to manage resources. The resources include the gear you bring, the food you eat and the water you drink. Successful management of these items rests on your ability to prioritize, to identify those things which are essential, of value or merely trivial.

Water is essential, something you need to consume every day to maintain physical and mental well being. In a desert environment such as Grand Canyon, you had better have it or know with confidence where it can be found. Food is essential. Your pack, clothing, safety gear and first aid kit are essential.

A camera and tripod, while of value, are not essential. Neither are critical to day-to-day survival. Neither is a tool that helps you get from point A to point B. Neither provides shelter from the elements or assistance during an emergency. For most backpackers, these would be considered trivial items. Most people would bring a smart phone as a resource for communication with family and friends, during an emergency. At other times, it can function as a camera. Some hikers would bring a point & shoot – something lightweight that fits nicely in a pocket – or perhaps a small tripod or Gorilla Pod.

The gravelly carpet of the lower narrows yields to the stoney floor of the upper, in this photograph of Vishnu Narrows in Grand Canyon National Park. (Bill Ferris)

The gravelly carpet of the lower narrows yields to the stoney floor of the upper, in this photograph of Vishnu Narrows in Grand Canyon National Park. (Bill Ferris)

As a dedicated landscape photographer, the camera and related equipment – while non-essential – are highly valued by me. Two years ago, I replaced and upgraded several critical pieces of backpacking kit with the goal of reducing weight while maintaining performance. The items included my backpack, shelter, sleeping bag, sleeping pad and water treatment kit. The net result was a reduction of nearly five pounds in my backpacking base weight. (Base weight is the weight of the pack and all non-consumable contents.)

What did I do with those five pounds? Did I walk a bit lighter and quicker down the trail? Of course not. I reassigned it to photographic equipment. Instead of hiking with a crop format camera body, I now bring a full-frame sensor body. I also added a lightweight but full-size travel tripod to my kit. These items added a bit over four pounds to the weight of my pack. They also significantly increased the enjoyment I get from doing photography while backpacking.

Here’s the complete list of photographic gear I brought on a recent eight-day Grand Canyon backpack:

  • Nikon D610 camera body (w/ two spare batteries and two spare 32 GB SD cards)
  • Nikon 16-35mm f/4 wide angle zoom lens (w/ lens cleaning cloth and wipes)
  • Benro A1690T aluminum travel tripod with Benro B0 ball head (w/ backpack straps)
  • Peak Design Capture Camera Clip Pro mounting system
  • Peak Design Slide camera strap

Almost any camera (smartphone, point & shoot, etc.) can make an excellent picture in the full light of day. The equipment I packed allowed me to make excellent photos in any lighting, even at night. The D610 is a top-5 ranked camera body when it comes to the combination of resolution, dynamic range and low light performance. That 24 megapixel Sony sensor is a beast. The 16-35mm zoom lens allows me to capture awe-inspiring wide angle views. An equivalent lens on a crop-frame body would have a focal length in the 10-11mm range. No smart phone or point & shoot comes close to delivering such a wide angle view.

Early on a March morning, the summer Milky Way rises over Grand Canyon National Park. A pristine night sky is a treasure. Standing beneath a starry canopy, one can simultaneously feel insignificant and connected to all things. There is no greater cathedral, no place I feel more at home. (Bill Ferris)

Early on a March morning, the summer Milky Way rises over Grand Canyon National Park. A pristine night sky is a treasure. Standing beneath a starry canopy, one can simultaneously feel insignificant and connected to all things. There is no greater cathedral, no place I feel more at home. (Bill Ferris)

The tripod enabled me to capture quality exposures during the golden hour and at night. Without the tripod, I would have had to shoot with wide open apertures and high ISO’s to keep exposure times reasonable. With the tripod, I could use the base ISO, a small f/13 aperture and capture tack sharp landscapes during twilight. I could also make longer 1-second exposures of a waterfall to give the flowing water that silky smooth quality. Or, I could make 30-second exposures of the night sky at very high ISO to record a stunning image of the Milky Way rising over Grand Canyon.

Equally important, was what I did not bring: no backup body; no second (or third) lens; no filter(s); no speedlight(s); no reflector. Under different circumstances, I would normally have brought all these items. However, in an environment where every ounce and each square inch of space matters, these accessories are non-essentials.

I know a lot of landscape photography enthusiasts will question the decision not to bring even one filter. After all, filters are relatively small and light. Surely, I could have fit a neutral density filter, a graduated ND or a UV filter in my kit? Well, I could have. I also could have used that weight or space for more water, more food, rain gear, another clothing item or some other even more essential item.

The bottom line reality is that much of what filters offer can be achieved in Adobe Lightroom. Shooting in RAW combined with good decision-making about what to photograph and judicious use of exposure compensation allows me to capture original exposures that can be edited in Lightroom to optimize exposure, details and highlights in any area of the final photograph. All this can be accomplished in a few minutes or less. Filters, while definitely of value, are non-essential.

The 24 MP sensor combined with Lightroom’s single button click tools correcting lens distortion and chromatic aberration give me the option of shooting at 35mm in the field, then cropping to 50mm or even 75mm during post-production. In short, image processing offers the option of converting a wide angle image into a photograph captured with a standard focal length lens.

Of course, the real fun during the hike was making images that take advantage of what a true wide angle lens offers. Of the more than 1,000 photographs I took during the eight-day trip, only a handful have been cropped more than about 10% during processing. Ninety percent or more have not been cropped, at all. Some may view shooting with just one lens for a week as limiting. I saw it as both a challenge and an opportunity. The opportunity was to make dramatic wide angle landscapes in a truly stunning natural environment. The challenge was to be creative with my use of the lens throughout the week.

A backpacker steps carefully along a crumbling ridge while late day light paints a Tapeats tower in Grand Canyon National Park. (Bill Ferris)

A backpacker steps carefully along a crumbling ridge while late day light paints a Tapeats tower in Grand Canyon National Park. (Bill Ferris)

In hindsight, it wasn’t a challenge, at all. It was easy. Throughout the week, there was only one time when I missed not having a long telephoto lens in my pack. (We were standing at the edge of the Tonto Plateau looking into Vishnu Canyon and found the remnants of an old miner’s cabin. The ruins were about half-a-mile distant and, while plainly visible through a 10X monocular, were simply beyond the reach of a 35mm lens.) But for that, it was a genuinely enjoyable week of hiking in and making landscapes of Grand Canyon National Park.

You don’t need to spend a week backpacking in a wilderness area to experience the joys of shooting with a minimal kit. You can do it, any time you wish. All it takes is the willingness to leave all but your most basic and necessary gear at home. This weekend, choose one camera, one lens, a tripod, a couple of spare batteries and media cards, and allow yourself to spend an entire day taking and making great photographs with just that essential equipment. Get back to the basics.

Go ahead, get out there and shoot.

Bill Ferris | April 2015

Dedication

Warm early morning light casts a golden glow on the canyon floor visible through Mesa Arch in Canyonlands National Monument. (Bill Ferris)

Warm early morning light casts a golden glow on the canyon floor visible through Mesa Arch in Canyonlands National Park. (Bill Ferris)

Photography is a democratizing pursuit. How so? Well, it is often said that the camera is not the most critical element of a great photograph. The most critical element is the photographer, the person who makes the image. An eye for composition, an understanding of the role light plays in transforming a nice view into a stunning scene, and a knowledge of how to manipulate a camera’s controls and settings to achieve the envisioned photo are the most important tools a photographer brings to the craft.

The unsung and often ignored quality all great photographers bring to the table is dedication. In a nutshell, dedication can be defined as your willingness to give up something of value in order to achieve something of equal or greater value. The above photograph of Mesa Arch in Canyonlands National Park illustrates the matter.

July 27, 2014 was hot and muggy in southern Utah. I had begun the day photographing sunrise in Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park in northern Arizona. Afterwards, I enjoyed breakfast at The View Hotel along with a number of guests just beginning their respective days. The drive north along state highways 163 and 191 delivered me to Moab, Utah at lunchtime. Moab is the gateway community to Arches and Canyonlands national parks. After lunch, the balance of my day was devoted to driving into Arches to the Delicate Arch parking area, making the 1.5-mile hike to the arch and waiting for a golden hour that never really materialized.

July happens to be the heart of the summer monsoon in the Southwest US. This seasonal weather patterned is defined by hot, muggy conditions, increasing cloudiness during the day and afternoon thunderstorms. The afternoon clouds were so thick on this day that they blocked the sweet, warm late-day light from painting Delicate Arch. The most dramatic thunderstorm activity was well off to the north. As a result, conditions just didn’t come together to make for a compelling photographic opportunity on this day.

After sunset, I made the return hike to my vehicle and, along the way, considered the available options. The issue occupying my thinking was, how should I spend the next morning? Should I find a place to photograph sunrise or just hit the road? July 28, I needed to drive 5 1/2 hours to Denver, where I would pick up my wife and son at the airport. They were flying in from New York. I was in the midst of the drive up from Flagstaff. After connecting, the three of us were going to spend a week in Estes Park exploring Rocky Mountain National Park.

There were plenty of good reasons to skip the sunrise photo expedition: the monsoon would probably play havoc with the early morning light; I had a long drive ahead and the rest would do me, well; there was almost always a crowd at Mesa Arch competing for the best locations. In the end, there was just one reason to follow through on my plan to photograph sunrise at Mesa Arch: it might be spectacular. That being reason enough, I left Arches National Park and – rather than heading back to Moab to find a hotel – turned north to make the drive to Canyonlands.

The decision grew less wise and more foolish as I drove through the darkening evening hours. Thunderstorm activity increased the further north I drove. Setting up my tent at a campground a few miles outside the entrance to Canyonlands, rain began to fall. I hurried to finish making camp and climbed into my sleeping bag just as the first deluge of the night began. I never slept more than an hour at a stretch, the occasional thunderclaps and constant patter of rain teaming to interrupt any semblance of restful sleep. When my watch alarm went off at 3:30 AM, I gave serious thought to just staying in the tent and getting more sleep.

But sunrise at Mesa Arch might – despite clouds, thunderclaps and rain – be spectacular.

So, I unzipped the sleeping bag and began to pack up. Leaving the campground, I drove through the darkness and into Canyonlands National Park. Through the windshield, it appeared the rain clouds were breaking up. Or was that just wishful thinking? Pulling into the parking lot for Mesa Arch trailhead, mine was the first vehicle on the scene. “Well,” I thought, “If it does clear, at least I’ll have my pick of spots to set up for the shot.”

Clear, it did. My dedication – however wishful or foolish in its origin – was rewarded with a fine sunrise at Mesa Arch. To be sure, this wasn’t the most dramatic of sunrises. Though warm and red, the intensity of the dawn light was muted by lingering clouds. But it was still beautiful. It was worth the worry, the sacrifice and the effort to awaken in darkness, eat a cold breakfast, remain optimistic in the face of bad weather, hike through the mist, choose my spot and to wait in hope that something magical would emerge from this monsoon morning. I could have taken the easy path. I could have driven into Moab, gotten a hotel room and slept in comfort through the night and the sunrise.

If I had, I would have missed sunrise at Mesa Arch. Now, get out there and shoot.

Bill Ferris | December 2014

Reflections

The warm morning light of a midsummer day illuminates Hallett Peak's reflection off the mirrored surface of Bear Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. (Bill Ferris)

The warm morning light of a midsummer day illuminates Hallett Peak’s reflection off the mirrored surface of Bear Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. (Bill Ferris)

The reflected image is a common compositional element in photography. When effectively employed, it adds something special to an image. In macro photography, this technique is often used to reveal the surrounding world as reflected in a single dew drop. In portraiture, the image of your subject reflected against rain-streaked glass adds drama. A reflection in a landscape photograph can make an image more compelling to the eye.

What is is about a reflection that draws our attention? Well for one, a reflection presents the world in a new and different way. In the above photograph, Hallett Peak is seen reflecting off the glassy surface of Bear Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. The reflection turns everything upside down, delivering an unusual perspective on a twelve thousand foot mountain. A reflection can imbue a scene with a strong element of symmetry. If you block the lower half of the above image, the upper half is irregular in form, hue and texture. In short it is not symmetrical and that is very common in nature. Rarely does nature produce a straight line, a perfectly round circle or a perfectly balanced scene. So, when we find such a thing, it tends to get our attention.

A reflection draws our attention to the seam where the reflected and direct views join. In this image, the seam coincides with the junction between the pine forest and the water’s edge. Typically, this would not be a leading line or a particularly strong element in the composition. The mountain would be the dominant element. However, as the brain seeks to understand this oddly symmetrical pattern, it naturally seeks and identifies that transitional area of the image. Finding the seam or fold allows the brain to determine that the unnaturally symmetrical form is not a singular artificial construct. It is simply a reflection of an otherwise normally irregular landscape scene.

The first light of day paints the Continental Divide as seen from the shore of Sprague Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. (Bill Ferris)

The first light of day paints the Continental Divide as seen from the shore of Sprague Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. (Bill Ferris)

Finally, a reflection plays on the inherently voyeuristic nature of visual perception. The act of looking at something establishes a clear distinction between you, the observer, and the subject, that which is observed. On the morning I made the above photo, I hiked about 3/4-mile along a trail to the east side of Sprague Lake. During that walk, I was in nature. I was within and part of the place. However, the act of setting up my camera and observing the scene as a subject to be photographed established a distinction or separation between me and the natural setting. That act transformed me into an outside observer.

A person can observe someone or something either directly or indirectly. The act of observing indirectly is inherently voyeuristic. Some element of the observation was unintended. This can result from observing in secret without the subject’s knowledge or permission. It can also result from an observation that reveals some unintended quality of the subject. The reflected image is not natural. It is not how the subject normally appears to others. It is a bit like jogging down the sidewalk on your morning run and having your neighbor walk out the front door in his bathrobe. It’s 6:00 AM and he figured the rest of world would be asleep as he went out to fetch the morning paper. Surprise, surprise.

So to summarize, a reflection skews our perspective, presenting the subject in a way we are not used to seeing. A reflection triggers the human brain’s natural tendency to recognize symmetry and patterns, and to analyze such appearances to determine if they are natural or artificial. A reflection can also trigger feelings of being a voyeur. Because we see the subject in an unusual or unexpected manner, there is a sense of being privy to something that is either uninvited or unintended.

Of course, it is quite natural to respond in unexpected ways to these visual, mental and emotional stimuli. You might be momentarily confused, even questioning the authenticity of the scene. There may even be an emotional response. Seeing something again for the first time can produce strong feelings. Whatever the response, it is the very fact that seeing something in reflection can be a catalyst for intense thoughts or feelings that makes it such a powerful element of composition. As artists, we photographers feel joy when others take pleasure in our work. We may feel pain when others are critical. But the greatest sadness comes when others simply dismiss our photographs as not worthy of notice.

Now, get out there and shoot.

Bill Ferris | September 2014

To the Ends of the Earth

A late summer afternoon glow fills Grand Canyon as seen from Yaki Point on the South Rim. Cedar Ridge and O'Neill Butte bask in the light in the foreground. (Bill Ferris)

A late summer afternoon glow fills Grand Canyon as seen from Yaki Point on the South Rim. (Bill Ferris)

What motivates you to walk out the door with your camera? Is it the siren song of an image you’ve been wanting to capture? The desire to create something original and beautiful? The challenge of using a single, static image to create a lasting record of a moment in time? The hope of reinventing the mundane as something magnificent? All of the above? What reward are you seeking when lifting the camera and framing another shot?

I’m motivated by the idea that there are countless shots in the world that have yet to be taken. Even the most photographed subject on the planet has potential. You might chuckle at the notion that anybody could possibly take an original photograph of the Eiffel Tower, the New York City skyline or anything at Disneyland. But consider this, every first-time visitor sees these places with fresh eyes. And anytime a pair of fresh eyes looks for the first time upon something or someone, there is the potential for magic.

Now, I’m not talking about spells, witches and wands type magic. I’m talking about the magic of something happening for the first time. There is magic in a first kiss, first love or even something as simple as the first time a child tastes chocolate ice cream. And the beauty of firsts, is that they happen to everybody every day. When you walk out the door, you’re seeing the world…for the first time that day. There is magic in the promise of a new day. Yesterday may have been lousy, no better than a bag of rocks. Today offers an opportunity to make a fresh start. The headache that made you grumpy, yesterday, is gone. The co-worker who spilled coffee on you desk is out of the office for the day.

Today is new. It’s never been seen, before. It could be a day like any other or it could be something spectacular. And you play a role in deciding what kind of day today will be. You can make it happen.

One of my favorite outdoor activities is hiking. I spend an average of 30 minutes each day on the treadmill, get out and hike a local trail most weekends and make it a point to spend a couple weeks each year backpacking Grand Canyon. For me the attraction of being outdoors is multifaceted. I enjoy the physical challenge of backcountry route finding. Northern Arizona has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to stunning natural vistas. And for every inspiring scene to be easily found along the rim of Grand Canyon, there are countless gems to be discovered below the rim.

It is the potential to discover and photograph a stunningly gorgeous scene that, as much as any other reason, calls me back to Grand Canyon. And let’s be honest, if there’s anything better than capturing a lovely image of an iconic scene, it is capturing an image of a magnificent scene for the first time. I’m not talking about the first time for me kind of first time. I’m talking about the first time for anybody kind of first.

This ancient granary can be found in Stone Creek in Grand Canyon. You can get there by boot or by boat. It's a place few people every visit but is well worth the trip. (Bill Ferris)

This ancient granary can be found in Stone Creek in Grand Canyon. You can get there by boot or by boat. It’s a place few people ever visit but is well worth the trip. (Bill Ferris)

This photograph was taken in Stone Creek in Grand Canyon National Park. Stone Creek is tucked away in western Grand Canyon. It’s not reachable by car, mule or even along a maintained trail. It took me three days of hot, hard hiking to get here in October 2010. I wasn’t the first person to see this sight but, within the context of the nearly four million people who visit Grand Canyon each year, I was probably one of fewer than 100 people to visit this place that year. How many others photographed this scene? How many invested the energy in lugging a good quality DSLR to Stone Creek? How many took the time to compose an interesting shot?

Capturing a great photo of an iconic subject can be very satisfying. Taking a great photograph of an almost unknown subject can also be very satisfying but for different reasons. The notion of bringing to public attention to a place that is virtually unknown is appealing. Even if a photo does not garner public attention, there’s something pleasing about the thought of being one of the few photographers on the planet to have that picture. To be the only photographer to have that photo. Now, that’s appealing.

Get out and shoot.

Bill Ferris | August 2013