I'm posting landscape and outdoor photography tips that don't have anything to do with camera gear. That's not to say they aren't things, you just might not pack them into your camera bag.  Today's tip probably should have been tip number one, it's the best tip that I have and it's the one that I absolutely loathe.

Set Your Alarm Clock

I have three alarm clocks.  I hate all three of them.  They are extremely effective and surprisingly impact resistant. 
Brandenburg Gate, Berlin II
Brandenberg Gate in Berlin is an absolute circus during the day, but once the sun goes down it's much more peaceful. Mr. Bastard and I spent a lot of time sitting on the sidewalk, enjoying convenience store beer and waiting for the place to settle in order to snap this photo.

One way to guarantee getting a photo that doesn’t look like every other photo out there, is to shoot during the times when less people are likely to be viewing a particular scene. I know the popular saying is “Nothing good ever happens after 2 am” but for a photographer, that doesn’t quite hold true.

You've probably heard of "The Golden Hour" and "The Blue Hour"  they're good hours, sometimes they even last more than an hour and sometimes they're over in 10 minutes. It's the time around sunrise and sunset when the light is pretty, the sky is lovely and the rest of the world is usually either tucked safely in their beds or sitting around the dinner table.  Try not to think about how nice their life is compared to yours right now, those people - cozy in their beds dreaming. Those people, surrounded by delicious home cooked meals and family, the sound of gentle laughter wafting through the air.  You - crouched down in a manure laden field, gingerly feeling around in the dark for a poo-free place to rest your hand.  The dew drops soaking through your sneakers while you sit silently, freezing and being viciously mauled by 300 pound mosquitoes. The 6 cups of coffee you used to power through the 2 am alarm clock pounding on your bladder door.   Remember you're there for the photo. Do it for the photo.

3 am is a Beautiful Time to be Alive in IcelandIn my only pair of jammies, rolling around in sheep manure at 3 am.

3 AM under a midnight sun in Iceland. 

I'm back with my serious tips for Landscape photography, brought to you by serious Llisa. So serious.

Safety (See, I told you. Serious stuff)

I’m a big fan of being safe and it all boils down to having an understanding of where you’re shooting, recognizing the potential dangers and not being so intent on getting the shot that you risk your own personal safety. That pretty much sums it up, if a situation makes your spidey senses start to tingle, it might be a good move to remove yourself from that situation. 

Since January, when I started struggling with my balance, I have found myself turning away a little more often from things that normally wouldn't bother me.  I have also found myself singing "I'm a little teapot, tip me over and pour me out" on a loop, but I won't sing it for you here, I wouldn't want it to get stuck in your head too.  Now when I'm on my own, I have to stick to places with nice wide paths and little exposure in case I tip over sideways.  I might be able to get into a location okay, but if there's a chance I can't make it out again, I tend to err on the side of caution and find a less risky alternative. 

Lundbreck Falls in B&W Wedged in between two rocks, three points of contact with the ground, I wasn't exactly comfortable, but I also wasn't in danger of going anywhere either!

Similarly, my eyes are often on the ground watching for signs of bears or other large predators, being aware of your surroundings is never a bad idea. 

I took this as my cue to leave.

I wasn't sure what animal left this print, it looks like dog (a really really big dog).  But with absolutely nobody in the area, I took this as my cue to leave.

I'd like to say that no photo is worth your life, but if, for example, you're absolutely convinced you're going to die at the hands (hooves) of a horny, angry moose, you may as well go out with your finger on the shutter.  (Rather than reaching for my bear spray when faced with a potentially aggressive moose, I switched to a telephoto lens, the wrong choice on many levels.)

Moose

Aretha Franklin knew what was up, just a little bit of R-E-S-P-E-C-T baby and it's a good thing to remember if you're an outdoor photographer.   Now to be honest, I don't know if this tip will make you a better photographer, but I can guarantee it will make you less of an asshole, and other photographers might be more willing to cooperate and help you along your photographic journey.  So in a roundabout way, having respect has it's direct benefits for you too, not just the world around you.

Stop for a second and think about how much life must suck for a plant trying to eke out a living among the rock high up in the alpine. Sure, the view is great, but the soil conditions are crummy, the growing season short and sooner or later, something big and furry comes along to eat you. 

Bigger than a flower, furry and hungry. I didn't specify how big. 

When I scrambled into this area to chase after wild flowers, I was careful to ensure my feet didn't touch a single flower on the way up, which, if you've noticed how often I fall into lakes, was no small task.  If I had crushed a plant on the way up, it's only one plant, but if 10000 photographers crush a plant each, then sooner or later, there are no more plants and the cute furry things (who also happen to make excellent photographic subjects) start to die of starvation. 
Purple
There's a saying I like to remind myself when I'm out in the wild "Take only pictures, leave only footprints" and I do my very best to adhere to that.  Respecting the area you're shooting is often simple to do, but unfortunately many people forget to do things like pack out any garbage that they may have brought in, stick to the marked trails to reduce impact on sensitive ecosystems or don't feed the wildlife.  

While respecting the local flora and fauna might be a rather lonesome activity, respecting the other people around you can actually be a fun experience, and a good way to make friends.  When you're setting up at a location, have a look around you once in a while to make sure you're not stepping on toes, or ruining the experience of the people who may have travelled thousands of kilometres to see the view you might be currently blocking.  Common courtesy is appreciated by those around you, and you will probably receive the same courtesy in return.  

​  Hoodoos

I met a fellow photographer at this popular location early one morning, but with mutual respect for one another and a bit of communication we were able to work in relatively close quarters without ruining each other's shots. We even offered to share some filters with one another.  See, I told you not being an asshole has benefits. 

Too often I see an image hungry photographer unintentionally disrespect the other people around or even the very land he's so desperate to capture. So remember to keep an eye out for the folks around you and even more importantly, tread lightly and mind the earth under your feet so that the generations of photo snappers that follow still have pristine subject matter to capture.

My last non-Camera gear related tip dealt with planning a shoot. But what happens after you actually arrive at the location doesn't always go according to plan.  

Having a Good Attitude and being flexible is crucial to successfully getting the shot because let’s face it – things go wrong. Super wrong. All the time.  I wouldn't have nearly as many stories to tell around the dinner table if things went right.  (It's one of the biggest reasons I have this blog in the first place)

The following events preceded this nice serene looking photo: Solitude

Peaceful looking pictures must mean it was a peaceful place right?  Not always...

1.  I enjoy a lovely peaceful morning drive out to the lake, I appear to be the last person on earth. The highway is mine and mine alone. Open road. Coffee. Freedom.
2. In the distance, headlights appear. A comically large convoy is moving on the horizon and soon, no less than 30 photographers join me in the parking lot one by one by one.
3. Someone shines a flashlight in my face. I am not the droid they're looking for. I am now also slightly blind.
4. Swerving, stumbling and swearing, I valiantly fight my way through the thorny bramble to reach the lake side.
5. Arranging a piece of foreground interest in the water and feeling confident in my rubber boots, I overstep their limits and fill them with freezing cold water. Soon after I crouch down and inadvertently dip my bum in the lake to ensure it matches my socks.
6. A sewage truck shows up shattering any semblance of serenity in the mountains when it loudly begins to pump the outhouses.
7.  I take a somewhat crappy photo

Bow Lake
Exhibit A: Somewhat crappy photo

8.  Speaking of crap, the smell emanating from the sewage truck seeps into my nostrils. 
9. I leave my breakfast in the bushes. Classy.
10. I discover a wide, paved pathway from the lake side to the parking lot and hope nobody recognizes me as the idiot who recently tried to fight through the thorny bushes.
11. I abandon my composition to move 300 metres up the road in search of a bit of peace and quiet and find it located conveniently next to suitable foreground interest.

Despite all the inconveniences, I found the whole situation to be amusing and managed to have a blast. I had beautiful scenery and a working camera, there's little else I need in life. 

Having a positive state of mind will not only help you enjoy the shoot despite its shortcomings, but it might help you see past a failed attempt towards an even better shot. 

When I fall in a creek I don’t let it ruin my day, pack up and go home - I laugh about it, change my pants in front of a tourist bus, laugh even more about the embarrassing moment and then spend the rest of my day happily taking pictures, even if they are only pants-less selfies.   



Right in line with a positive attitude is flexibility, I usually have a loose plan in mind for any given location which I can use as a jumping off point.  I’ll get the shot I’m after and then spend some time exploring other options I may not have thought about. Often it’s the shots that present themselves later on that have a greater impact.

What if you were so intent on photographing a spectacular sunrise in the mountains that you didn't bother to look around you and missed out on photographing something amazing.  Let's say, Bigfoot, who was on fire.  Right - Bigfoot on fire ran right past you, and you missed it because your camera was pointed at a mountain that's been there every day in the same place for millions of years.  A hard way to learn that you need to be flexible, be ready.

Remember not to be so focused on the shot you’re after that you lose sight of what’s around you!

This week, I'm posting a series of tips for Landscape photographers that have nothing to do with Camera Gear which means I get to tell you about one of my favourite things about landscape photography:

Planning

 Whether it's scouring maps for interesting formations, searching for ghost towns and neat old buildings on the google machine or justifying a leisurely Sunday drive in the name of "location scouting" I love planning photos.   Potential locations appear on the back of my hand in marker, get hastily recorded in voice notes on my phone, or noted on my personalized google map full of potential locations (aka "The To Do List").  When a concept comes to mind without a location, I have any number of possible places already noted. Once a location is decided, I use The Photographer’s Ephemeris to help me decide on the best time to visit. 

My biggest reason for stockpiling so many ideas is the motivation a solid plan gives me to get out of bed in the morning.

Sunrise on Upper Kananaskis Lake Camping near this location the night before gave me the opportunity to be at the location and ready to shoot before the sun rose.  I had known the sun would hit the mountain face in an interesting way by consulting maps and The Photographer's Ephemeris. Without the research to motivate me, I likely would have stayed in bed.

I can sleep for 13 hours a day if I don't have a good reason to get out of bed. (I went to bed at 6:45 pm yesterday. Party Animal...)  If I’m planning to get a specific shot at a location three hours away and the sun is going to rise at 5:30 am, then it’s a lot easier to leap out of bed at 1 am than if I only have a vague idea of where I want to go or see. 

An additional bonus of having a long list of photos to take is it allows me to keep shooting during the times when I may not be feeling creative. The shot list I have on hand helps spur me into action. Saturday with nothing to do?  Consult the list and suddenly have a good reason to get dressed and out of the house.

So what am I making a note of when I'm searching out all of these locations?  Here's a few things to keep in mind:

1. What direction will your camera be facing in relation to your subject? This will help determine if there's a particular time of day that's better to visit.
Goodbye Blue
 When I noticed that this old house faces East on google maps, I knew that the sunrise would be a perfect opportunity to catch the rising sun in it's windows.

2. Is there a particular kind of vegetation or weather pattern that would best suit the scene?  Am I so far north that the sun won't rise during certain parts of the year no matter how much I plead?  This will help decide what time of year to visit. 

Red

Mountains are nice and all, but flowers are nicer.  Hey, wouldn't it be great to combine flowers and mountains in one single photo? Best visit in July.
 

3. How long will it take to arrive? There's nothing worse than underestimating how long it will take to reach a location and missing out on a pivotal moment. Is the Milky Way going to be perfectly situated in your composition at a particular time, best arrive a bit before that to set up.  Moments like a sunrise or sunset can happen quickly and are highly unlikely to accommodate anyone's schedule but their own. Don't be late.

The Moment

The sun is almost here, the sun is almost here!  Better get ready....

Green Trees in a Snowstorm

This week, I'm posting a series of tips for the Landscape (or Outdoor) photographer that have nothing to do with Camera Gear. That doesn't mean it won't leave you with a bit of a shopping list though.  Today's super tip is all about Wearing the Proper Clothing

Ugh. Okay Mom.

I’m guilty of ignoring this tip as evidenced by my often frostbitten fingers and soggy feet -  but do as I say, not as I do.  Going to the lake? Bring rubber boots.  Is it snowing? A pair of good gloves will go a long way.  Does the weatherman think it’s going to rain?  Sometimes he's actually right you know, so remember to pack a raincoat for yourself, not just the camera. Check the forecast and throw some extra warm, dry clothes in the truck whether you think you’ll need them or not. 

Sunrise at Frank Lake

The morning I took this photo was a seemingly balmy Canadian spring morning.  Sure, 3 degrees felt nice and warm when I left the house wearing a pair of sneakers, but as my feet broke through the thin layer of ice coating the marsh I changed my tune.  Hobbling back to the truck on frozen feet with tears streaming down my face  made me realize something: I needed to buy some rubber boots.  I spent years fighting my parents on the topic of rubber boots, mostly because there's absolutely no way to look good in them, but these days I'm a proud owner of an $11 pair of ugly rubber boots that I picked up at Canadian Tire because a comfortable photographer is a productive photographer.   Do I look good in them?  Well, if you think an ultra prepared, slightly clumsy walking photographer with warm dry feet is sexy, then yes, I look pretty damn fine.

The problem I find however, especially in the winter, is that when I get into a composition, like...really into a composition, I find myself shedding all the important clothes I've put on.  Not like, "Ooooh man, this photo composition is making me kinda hot!" shedding clothes but more in the realm of "These stupid mittens are slowing me down!" or "I can't bend my knees with these 80 pairs of snow pants and the foreground interest is way down by my feet!"  and then sooner or later my warm clothes are strewn about the snow, I'm crying because I got frost bite again and all  I have to show for my stupidity is a really rad photo.  I am learning though, and I'm here to tell you (I'm using my motivational infomercial voice right now, in case you didn't catch on) there are clothing products out there that allow both function and comfort.  Seek them out, try them on in the store and do some squats in the dressing room, don't forget to wave at the hidden dressing room video camera and wear those functional and comfortable clothes in the field. You'll be a lot more productive, and you won't have to worry about the sound of your mother's voice swimming in your head repeating "Are you really leaving the house like that?"

I see an awful lot of articles about landscape photography and they usually have one thing in common: Camera Gear.  You need this lens and that filter and don't you dare leave the house without a tripod.  

I get it.

We all get it.  

The funny thing is, you can do landscape photography with whatever camera you've got lying around. You don't need every piece of gear on the wish list to take a landscape photo. Some of my favourite work has been produced on an entry level DSLR, a kit lens and the last $20.00 to my name thrown into the gas tank.  If you're willing to put the effort in, you can make a photo work with whatever gear you have.  So I'm going to put the gear wish list aside (oh, and it's a beautiful shiny list isn't it?) and put together a practical list to help you on your next landscape photo outing. 

Vik

Leave a Note

This is rule number one around our house - if you`re going out into the wilderness or even just for a drive somewhere, leave a note. It takes five seconds to let someone know where you're going.  Even when I only have a vague idea of what my shoot will entail, I leave a note for my husband telling where I’m planning on going, what my plan B might look like, a reminder of what my licence plate is and a time for him to start panicking and assuming the worst. It's a big country we live in, so it's good to narrow down the space for people to start looking for you. And before you argue with me "But Lisa, give me a break, I have a phone on me at all times"  I will gently remind you that cell phones don't always work in this big country of ours and even if they do, sometimes the holder of the cell phone drops it into a lake rendering it useless . Stranger things have happened.

This is what "Welp.... I'm screwed" looks like.

If you think leaving a note is kid stuff my recommended reading to you is Aron Ralston’s “172 Hours” (Or you can watch the movie if that’s more your speed) Not only will it beat you over the head with a very valuable lesson about letting people know where you're going (kind of like what I'm doing now, except nobody is going to pay me to let James Franco act out this blog post), it's actually a pretty great book/movie.  Spoiler alert: Aron didn't leave a note and bad things happened to him. Very bad things. He could have died because he didn't leave a note.  I don't want bad things to happen to you, so remember to tell someone what your plans are. 

I promise I won't be quite so stern with tomorrow's post.

The ringing of my two alarm clocks went unnoticed for over half an hour, but at 2:41 am, the sound of thunder and rain slamming against the house brought my heavy but brief sleep to an end.  I leapt out of bed, hoping to trick myself into action before I could fully realize how stupid waking up before 3 am and leaving the house in the middle of an electrical storm was. Fortunately, I’m a bit slow in the brain department at that time of day, and before I could protest, I found myself on the highway though I was still 30 minutes behind schedule.

What is quickly becoming a Canada Day tradition, I was on my way to Moraine Lake.  A 2.5 hour drive from the city and with sunrise at its unapologetically punctual 5:30 am time slot, there was no time to even grab breakfast or stop for a bathroom break. 
Moraine out of the Mist
When I’m driving,  my eyes are on high alert for interesting photos and that morning, I passed by a number of fantastic opportunities.  A small pond glowing pale orange with light pollution from the city and reflecting flashes of lightning on the outskirts of Calgary. Outside Banff, the popular Vermillion Lakes and Cascade Ponds showed real promise of the kind of sunrise and cloud movement I’ve desperately tried but never managed to capture for myself.  With no time to spare I pressed on, opting to stray away from a sure thing in the hopes that something better was around the corner.

With a particular photo in mind, but absolutely zero idea how or where it could be achieved, I pulled into the Moraine Lake parking lot and sprinted up the trail. I was relieved to see that a suitable position for my camera was much closer than I thought and I gingerly hopped along boulders until I found a perch in the middle of a creek.  Perhaps it was the combination of adrenaline and coffee that had my legs shaking violently that morning, making the entire process of setting up my camera difficult but I used my extended tripod for support and reached a place to sit down without getting anything important soaked. I must have been a little bit too lucky on the approach considering my track record of dunking myself and other important gear into glacial streams, at one point, I removed the towel which had been keeping my camera relatively dry from the spray of the creek to find that my filter holder and graduated filter had been sacrificed to the camera gods by way of the water (or littering in a National Park if you choose to look at it that way).  With the water induced sacrifice out of the way, all was right in the world and the sun began it's journey around the globe.
Blue
 The clouds rolled in and out of the valley of the ten peaks at a surprising speed and I snapped away but as the sun peeked above the horizon and lit up the rock wall before me, the clouds gave way to a brilliant blue sky. The difference in photos seem like they should be taken days apart, but they are only separated by minutes. I glanced upwards and noticed a gaggle of photographers had clambered on to the famed rock pile and I silently thanked them for sticking to convention and letting me have a nice solitary albeit somewhat damp place to work far below them.  

Yellow

Later in the morning, I clambered up a hill some distance from the lake in search of wildflowers and upon finding a beautiful scene, I damned myself for not being able to be two places at once while the sun rose.  Perhaps next time I won't wait an entire year before returning.

Yellow

I have been trying to get out while the weather is warm and knock as many items off my "To Shoot" list as I can this year. Everyone gets 24 hours in a day, sometimes I like to use up as many of those hours as I can to run around taking pictures.  

We had friends from Vancouver staying at our place while they were in town to play Sled Island, I was looking forward to catching their set on Saturday night.  I had also been looking forward to a local band's farewell gig and album release on the same night.  With our guests planning to leave early Sunday morning, and some other friends wanting to meet up to go frolick in the water in the mountains somewhere, I devised a plan.

Exercising the dog with a series of 10 second timers.

I would catch both shows on Saturday night, say my good byes to our friends once they arrived at our house at the end of the night, drive out to the mountains, shoot the sunrise, nap in my truck for a few hours and then wake up once my other friends arrived to sit in the sun and play in the water all day.

It was a good plan. 

It was an ambitious plan. 

I'm still kind of surprised it worked.

I am sunburned, I am (still) exhausted and I have a memory card full of new photos to share.

First plan of action was to see the relatively new band "Low Levels" (Vancouver) absolutely light the crowd up at the Palomino. I'm really looking forward to seeing them again, hopefully they'll have some recordings by then, and I know I'm not alone in that sentiment.

Immediately after their set, Mr. Bastard and I scurried over to Distortion to see Chakobsa play their final gig.  We managed to get there just as they took the stage. The heat absolutely radiated from the crowd at the front of the stage and I wasn't able to shoot photos for long before my eyes went blurry from the heat.  Kudos to the boys for being able to play a great set in that heat while standing underneath the stage lighting. 

After the shows, I put the view of the city in my rear view mirror.  Creepy-dog had to share the passenger seat with a stockpile of coffee.  We managed to get to Sheep River Falls shortly before the sun rose and we scurried over to a viewpoint that I had chosen during a previous visit.    Creepy is an excellent pal to have along on road trips, but she's a terrible photography assistant. 

 She has 3 modes of operation when I'm trying to take a photo:

1. Pull on leash as hard as she can back towards the truck and crying incessantly 

2. SQ SQ SQ SQUIRREL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Smoky Sunset

Once the sun was up, I wandered back to the truck and dozed off for about three hours.  First in the front seat until my legs went numb, and then in the back seat until it was too hot to stay in the vehicle any longer.  My friends showed up and I happily played in the water all afternoon, skipping rocks and lounging until it was time to finally go home and go to bed.  A fine way to cram a weekend's worth of fun into a single day.

Creepy & Buddy

Last weekend Mr. Bastard was out of town on a fishing trip so I packed up the truck, loaded in Creepy-dog and headed East.  With no real goal in mind, I aimlessly zig zagged across the prairies making a series of right hand turns down endless highway and dirt roads in search of a change of scenery and some simple compositions.    Prairie Simplicity III B&W

At one point, the road dipped into a coulee and I suddenly found myself in the middle of a small and surprisingly busy little town.  There were people everywhere I looked, and part way through town I began to notice a pattern.  The townsfolk were either sitting in lawn chairs along the sidewalk (odd, I thought), or loitering in small groups around the tail gates of their pick up trucks which had been backed up in parking lots facing the street (slightly less odd, I thought).  When a stranger drives through a small town, it’s noticeable to the people who live there that someone new is around. I garnered quite a few looks from the people along the street, but paid little attention to their glances. (As a person who grew up in a town of 225 people, yes, we do know you’re not from here and yes, we are staring at you)
 

Still, maybe they had somehow known I would drive through town that day and gathered to see me and Creepy-dog.  (Gather round one and all! Llisa and Creepy, racing across the prairie!  See the famed truck Mrs. Beastly in her currently operating state!  Watch as woman and fur-beast awkwardly try to drive while eating snacks not designed for consumption while driving! See them occasionally stop to take pictures or scoff at poorly maintained bathrooms!)  Egomania be damned, it wasn’t until I looked down a side street towards the end of town and noticed a colourful parade at the end of the block that I put two and two together. 

I had unintentionally become a parade marshall. 

In hindsight, I should have been throwing candy  out the window (or in my case, oodles of pickle and cheese sandwiches).   At the very least, I should have waved.

Giggling madly to myself, I continued on my journey with less of an audience. I made notes of places that would be good places to photograph at sunset or sunrise. On the outskirts of Drumheller, I noticed a small canyon that would be dynamite at sunset and decided I would come back around 8 pm. I spent the rest of the day roaming around aimlessly, watching the sunlight play tag with the rain clouds and cast pockets of light and shadow across the prairie landscape. Occasionally long skid marks would appear under the tires of my truck on lonely gravel roads after seeing a composition I found pleasing. Other times, the skid marks would appear simply because it's really really fun to spin around in the dirt. (The new truck tires I bought last year were money well spent)

Prairie Simplicity V

As sunset approached, I made my way back to the canyon I spotted early in the day, and set up my camera in the nick of time to capture what I was after.  I couldn't believe my good timing once  the light quickly became flat and boring again.  I had assumed that would be where I spent my evening, but with new found time to spare I headed towards the Hoodoo formations on the other side of Drumheller.

I had vowed to not take photos of grain silos while on the prairies, but I stopped briefly to snap a few more photos of a grain elevator bathed in golden sunlight. Although they are still common photographic subjects, the grain elevator is a quickly disappearing icon of the prairie and the opportunity was too good to pass.

Andrew Farms

I made it to the Hoodoos with the intent of taking the easy way out photographically speaking, and shooting the famed formations.  However, as I entered the parking lot a less typical scene caught my eye. I ended up crouched down on the side of the highway in a drainage ditch while the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

With a certain photo in mind for sunrise at the Hoodoos, I set up an uncomfortable bed in my truck and spent the night in the parking lot. The nice thing about truck sleeping in the summer is the short amount of time to wait before the sun rises again.  

This truck ain't big for the two of us Creepy-dog

A few hours later I was up and sharing the view of a lacklustre sunrise with a fellow early rising photographer.  "Any minute now" I kept saying, but the sun and clouds did not cooperate as I had hoped.  After a while, I noticed a ball of light hovering 90 degrees to the left of my camera and realized the photo I had in mind for that morning, wouldn't be achievable for another six months or so.  A cold sleepless night for nothing. Note to self: Research before leaving the house.  

 I waited around for two hours hoping something interesting would happen with the light, depleting my coffee source in the process but alas I had been skunked. I took a few consolation photos, packed up, drove home and crawled into bed for an award worthy nap.