My first trip to Iceland was in July 1999.  At that time, my husband and I rented a car and spent a couple of weeks driving around the perimeter road that had been finished in the 1970s.   With a little preplanning, we were able to organize an interesting trip that we both really enjoyed—leaving with enough appreciation for the dramatic beauty of the place to put it on our list for a definite revisit “one day.”  Unfortunately, that day was not to be for both of us, but this past July I joined up with a small group of landscape photographers participating in an organized tour to the scenic spots around the southern part of Iceland.

The trip was very well organized by Joseph Van Os Photo Safaris.  In addition to the 12 participants, we had a well-known and respected landscape photographer—John Shaw, a great bus driver, and an extremely knowledgeable local guide traveling with us.  The photographic spots had been well scouted, the hotels were conveniently located, and the meals (all good) were carefully orchestrated to fit in with our schedule.  Our luxurious coach had more than ample seating for a group of this size—we each had our own window seat with plenty of room next to us for the piles of photo gear we had hauled along.

I had planned my time so I would arrive a couple of days early to settle in, get over jet lag and—most important—to give me ample time to check out all my still-rather-new digital equipment.  I didn’t mind the idea of having extra time in Reykjavik since I already knew how easy it would be to spend a nice day there.  As it turned out, I needed a special plug for a piece of equipment, but I had plenty of time to buy it at a local hardware store (Iceland current is 120V, 50 cycle)—and my solo Sunday in town turned out to be a beautiful, thoroughly enjoyable day.

The group arrived on various overnight flights and, after we met up very early on Monday morning at the airport in Reykjavik, we immediately set off for a fully-scheduled day of photography.  Although the five-hour overnight flight from New York is not terribly long, for me the jet lag would have dampened my enthusiasm that first day.  However, I was well-rested, my equipment was all at the ready, and I didn’t have long to wait for the first marvelous photo op—a nesting group of arctic terns taking to the air in clear bright blue sky.  Very early in the trip, we recognized the value of having the benefit of John Shaw’s experience.  We’d actually driven past this group of terns, when John made a quick decision…”It’s a beautiful blue sky day and the wind is just right, so we’re making a U-turn to photograph those terns.”  I have many great shots of these hovering, elegant birds in just the right position to attest to John’s wisdom.  We’d stopped for breakfast at a restored Viking village earlier, and the finely-sculpted wooden building decorations had also presented interesting photo opportunities.  In short order, John had us looking for unusual shots of fish drying on racks and of a quaint small church, and searching for patterns and colors in the lovely wildflowers that were in bloom.  I think everyone slept very well that night after a satisfying and early evening meal.

The daily routine was to breakfast around 7 AM—a hearty European-style breakfast with wonderful breads, cheese, yogurt, cereals, eggs, cold cuts, herring, juice and beverages.  Lunches were “on the road,” but all were well preplanned—a fine lunch at a farm, once at a horse ranch, many at small local restaurants and, on one occasion, a packed picnic lunch.  Dinners were fixed meals at the hotels where we stayed, usually around 7 PM and special meal requirements were always carefully observed.  At dinner, details of the proposed itinerary for the next day were confirmed and all questions were asked and answered.  After dinner, because it was light almost 22 hours a day, you could walk and photograph in the area around the hotel around the hotel—if you had the energy.  For the most part, I found I needed the time after dinner to download digital media cards, recharge batteries, shower, and generally get ready for the next day’s activities.  TV reception was very limited, so that was never a distraction.  The weather was good—60°F to 70°F; even into the low 80s.  We had a mixture of blue sky days, some overcast, and a bit of rain here and there, but never enough to ruin any whole day of the two weeks we spent on our journey.  Everyone in the well-travelled congenial group was a keen photographer and bus time was never boring.  If our guide wasn’t pointing out interesting scenery or entertaining us with Viking sagas, then there was also plenty of conversation about travel experiences.

We photographed dramatic volcanic scenery, gigantic waterfalls and mini-falls, glaciers and geysers, small churches and elf houses, farms and cliffs, wildflowers and birds of many types, including the Icelandic symbol—the puffin.  One of our most unusual day trips was an adventure that brought us to a puffin colony on a wildlife refuge located just off the coast, not far from Skaftafell National Park.  We drove by bus to a location about an hour from our hotel, and then spent another hour in a huge motorized hay wagon driven by a local farmer.  We slowly sloshed our way across a marshy, tidal flat to the base of our island destination.  We had to scramble up a bit of a steep incline of fine black lava sand, then carefully traverse an area strewn with chunks of lava rock, and cross a meadow of nesting great skuas (they dive-bombed us frequently), before finally reaching the top of the island where many Atlantic puffins were nesting.  Some puffins nested in burrows on the grass along the edge of the cliff, others in burrows actually down on the cliff side.  Our group ranged in age from 24 to 79 and all made it safely up to the site, though some of us were puffing a bit more than others.  It was a beautiful day, and everyone seemed to really enjoy the adventure.  Because the puffins were actively feeding their young in the burrows, we were able to view the constant activity of one parent coming in from a fishing trip with a mouth full of small fish, disappearing into the burrow, and then another parent dashing out to repeat the activity.  Toward the end of the day the weather turned on us a bit, and that fine black lava sand whipped up around us, making it seem as though we were on some remote planet—but even that experience just added to the adventure.  And it was a lot easier going down than up!

One of the most beautiful spots we photographed was the Jokulsarlon Glacier Lagoon, where chunks of ice descend from the glacier and float through a short river out to sea.  We were blessed with two days of blue skies with white puffy clouds that enhanced the dramatic effect on the varied colors in the ice.  We appreciated that our schedule was flexible enough to take full advantage of the special lighting conditions we encountered.  I mentioned elf houses before—apparently there was an old superstition that if you built a small house next to your dwelling expressly for keeping the elves happy, then your home would never be bothered by them.  These look like dollhouses built into the earth with sod roofs, which was the same type of structure as all the old houses and small local churches.  Not too many of elf houses remain today, but we were fortunate to find two charming examples to photograph on our journey.

The trip seemed to be over all too soon—I could have kept on going for another couple of weeks.  Maybe in two or three years, Iceland will move up on the list again for another visit.

There is a small town not far from Buenos Aires, where one of the most spectacular and third largest, annual Carnival celebrations in the world takes place—Gualeguaychú, Argentina.  The intensity of this festive gathering is difficult to describe with words alone!  Preparation for the event goes on all year round and the costumes—often made from real bird feathers—are passed down through several generations.

Carnival is one of the most traditional popular festivals in the history of mankind.  It is thought to have begun in the pagan rituals celebrated to pay homage to Egyptian or Roman gods.  It spread into Europe and, with the passage of time, Carnival celebrations marked the season immediately before the beginning of Lent.  The festival was later brought to the New World by Spanish and Portuguese sailors.  The word “carnival” is probably derived from Medieval Latin—“carnelevarium” refers to the prohibition to not eat meat during the forty days of Lent.  In modern times, the festival has lost much of its religious meaning and the period of partying and merrymaking now often extends to the first weekends of March.  Around the world, Carnival has adopted different styles, according to the customs of each country.

The Gualeguaychú Carnival positively radiates happiness as the audacious rhythms of the musicians and dancers infect both participants and audience.  Here you can enjoy an event of unprecedented brightness, energy, light and sound.  My video clips were shot from public seats that were subject to vibration and movement from the large seated crowd.  For our 2011 tour, however, we have arranged for VIP seating for unparalleled photo opportunities.  This was my first trip using the new Canon HD video SLR camera and—although I have much to learn about switching my brain from still to video—the subject matter on this trip could not have been better for diverse color, culture and creative photography opportunities.

My slide show covers some of the photo highlights I am thrilled to share with fellow photographers in 2011.  We will visit and photograph not only the Carnival celebration near Buenos Aires, but also travel to Uruguay to take part in very different Carnival festivities.

While Carnival festivals will be the major focus of the trip, we will take advantage of the many wonderful cultural and natural history photo opportunities that abound in the region.  Because of its wide boulevards, beautiful architecture and rich culture, Buenos Aires has been called the “Paris of South America.”  The city has been listed on all the major travel magazines as a Top Pick travel destination—and for many good reasons beyond culture, value and safety.  Our days in this vibrant city will place us within walking distance of parks, elegant restaurants, and one of the most famous cemeteries in the world.  Travelers who appreciate good wine and meats will be in heaven as the quality of both is difficult to match elsewhere!  Visits to the Plaza de Mayo, in the historic heart of Buenos Aires, will be arranged for the best light and for excellent rooftop views of the city.  In La Boca, the birthplace of Tango, along streets with the most colorfully-painted houses and artists, street performers and tango dancers congregate daily.  We will set up our own photo sessions with tango dancers against the vibrant backdrops.  We will have time to photograph and to stroll among the art and craft displays and visit museums in the area.

In Montevideo, Uruguay—known as the safest big city in South America—we find a very different Carnival celebration.  Located on the coast across the estuary from Buenos Aires, this Spanish Colonial capital city hosts a Carnival Week featuring decorated streets and buildings, humorous shows staged at open-air theaters, and numerous parades and competitions that continue long into the morning hours.  We will have time to visit Old Town, historic churches, a world famous flea market, and many colorful landmarks.
Carnival celebrations in many parts of the world can be very difficult to photograph due to large and noisy crowds.  What makes this trip unique is the special access we will have at the Carnival in Argentina—the ability to photograph participants as they prepare for the evening festivity and unrestricted photography from a special access area away from the large crowds.  As a complement to the larger festival in Argentina, the street carnivals in Uruguay will offer totally different experiences and images.

On Crete, we explored the scenic old harbor and winding back alleyways—where we met and took photos of the very sweet elderly couple you can see in the slideshow. We traveled into the White Mountains where scenic small villages, vineyards and a monastery quickly filled our flash cards.

Visiting Santorini is a must! We stayed for four nights on this classic Greek island with its famed iconic blue domes. As we were having dinner on our final night in Oia, I could see that a weather front was just clearing—with the promise of a great sunset. A cloud hung dramatically over the town and the setting sun brilliantly lit the sky. What a special evening!

We traveled by hydrofoil to Mykonos—with calm seas, a great opportunity to photograph the islands from the sea. Arriving on Mykonos we all immediately understood the meaning of the phrase “location, location, location.” Our hotel was situated right next door to the classic Five Windmills! Only a very short distance away was Little Venice—with its narrow streets and colorful buildings bordering the waterfront. The weather was perfect and we also enjoyed a full day exploring the island by van.

The protest and strikes in Athens did not affect our group at all—nor did it affect the people and the photogenic attractions of the Greek Isles. I returned with many thousands of images—still processing them!—but I am already anticipating returning to the magical Greek Isles in 2011.

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PhotoCalc PhotoCalc is one of many apps featuring calculators and reference documents. You can easily calculate depth of field or manual flash settings. For depth of field, enter the focal length, aperture and subject distance. The app displays the range of focus from near to far and also displays a hyperfocal distance, the focal point for a given aperture that produces the maximum depth of field that includes infinity. To use the flash calculator, enter the guide number, aperture, ISO, flash power or subject distance to determine the power or distance required. PhotoCalc costs $2.99 at the iTunes app store.

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Sunrise The same company, Adair Systems, offers a standalone program called Sunrise and PhotoCalc includes an integrated version. Sunrise displays the time for sunrise, sunset and solar noon at a given location. Reference documents explain the Sunny 16 rule and the elements of the Zone System.

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Viewfinder Do you find yourself reaching for the wrong lens, wasting time at a critical juncture? If so, Viewfinder can be a lifesaver. Viewfinder is like a director’s viewfinder. It creates frame lines showing the angle of view for any lens on any camera and with the appropriate aspect ratio. The Viewfinder Pro version provides a database that includes medium format. The digital zoom ranges between 0.7x and 3x. For telephoto lenses, the program will zoom to fill the frame up to 3x. For lenses with wider aspect ratios than the iPhone maximum, equivalent to a 35mm lens on a full frame camera, you zoom smaller than 100%, prompting a virtual frame to appear that displays outside the normal iPhone range. Attach a wide-angle adaptor and set its angle of view—and voila!—you can extend the wide-angle limits of the program. Viewfinder works with the camera in the iPhone. You can either use it as a live view or you can take a photograph using the crop you desire. When you take a picture, the frame lines remain and the camera/lens combo is imprinted on the margin. It allows for four user-defined camera setups. You can easily toggle between them and perform special functions, such as switching aspect ratios or saving a view as a photo. You can define up to three custom lens focal lengths for each camera if your lens isn’t listed. You may compose with 3:2, 4:3, 5:4 and 1:1 aspect ratios, or use the HD standard 16:9 aspect ratio for video recording. The standard app costs $7.99 while the Pro version supporting medium format systems sells for $14.99.

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iD Release Securing and managing model releases has always been an irritant, especially for travel photographers. The release looks intimidating to prospective models and they may decline to be photographed. Naturally, models want a copy of the release. If I succeed in getting them to sign the release, then I must take reference photograph and attach it to the release in some way. Ideally, I scan it, enter it into a database, print a copy of the release for the models, mail their copies and, in the case of stock photography, include a reference for each release in the submissions. iD Release streamlines the process. When you open the application, the legal rights and responsibilities of the model are explained simultaneously in a recording and as text. iD Release uses release forms based on those used by Getty Images and has been blessed by Nancy Wolff, one of the leading intellectual property and digital rights attorneys. Currently, these explanations are available in English and Spanish, but the developers intend to implement Japanese, Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, Italian, French, German, Portuguese and Polish in the coming months. Enter all the relevant model data such as name, gender, ethnicity, age, location, job name, and so on. Snap a headshot of the model with the iPhone. iD Release attaches it to the release. The screen then becomes white to accept a digital signature. The model can sign his or her name using the tip of a finger as a stylus—a tool unsuited to calligraphy but sufficient for this purpose. With all the data safely in the iPhone, the program e-mails the release forms as a PDF to you, the model, or both, if you choose. iD Release stores and synchs all of your releases using a folder system you define in your online account. Small details enhance the interface. When entering an address or a name, each word is automatically capitalized. Most operations require just one click. Support, however, is nonexistent. I tried to create a signature on the surface of the iPhone with a chopstick and a stylus—to no effect—before stumbling upon the fingertip method. The iD Release website has no contact information or FAQ. iD Release is a free download on iTunes; but after creating the first three model releases, each additional release costs 99 cents. Alternatively, you can purchase an unlimited number of releases for one year for $24.99—or just over two dollars a month. I used to spend more on pens, paper and inkjet ink in one day. So many models have walked off with pens that I suspect I’ve had an impact on Third World literacy. If your business requires model releases, get this indispensable app and jettison the unnecessary hassle associated with obtaining releases and sending them where they belong—to clients, models, and to your files.

More apps appear all the time. I expect a truly useful remote control app to show up, if it hasn’t already (onOne software makes one but the camera must be attached to a computer). The more expensive calculator programs do everything but frame the shot. Soon a photographer without an app phone will become as antiquated as a Kodak Brownie shooter.

This past March, we began our photography tour in the almost 8,000-foot-high Chilean desert town of San Pedro de Atacama.  Here we would spend the next three days acclimating to ever greater elevations before traveling across the border to the high country of Bolivia.  San Pedro is the hub for the El Tatio geyser field and seven different sectors of Chile’s Los Flamencos National Reserve, which includes the startling rock formations of the Valley of the Moon and the Pacana Guardians, as well as the colorful and birdlife-rich wetlands of Salar de Pujsa and Lagunas Chaxa, Miscanti and Miñiques.

The Valley of the Moon is the portion of the reserve nearest to San Pedro.  Here, sunset photography is amazingly reminiscent of shooting Zabriskie Point in California’s Death Valley National Park.  Light and shadow sweeps across eroded “badlands” gaining a rich intensity of color as the sun sinks below the horizon.  Watching sunset in this austere landscape is an evening ritual at San Pedro—hundreds of people assemble at several prime spots that are all fantastic for photography.

Laguna Chaxa is a salt lake that is home to three species of flamingos—Andean, James’ and Chilean.  A close approach to the birds for full-frame shots is possible using telephoto lenses of 300mm or greater.  Rising early, our group was present as the pastel pre-dawn light began to tint the sky.  Then the mirror-smooth water of the lake picked up the deepening hues of the morning glow for an all-too-brief frenzy of photography before the brilliant blues of the clear desert sky dominated the color palette.

Several other species of birds offered interesting photography, but none more than tiny Baird’s sandpipers that travel a migration route from the High Arctic to these high-altitude wetlands in southern South America—a distance close to 9,000 miles—in as few as five weeks!  So unwary and accessible, many of us stopped focusing on the flashy pink flamingos and turned our attention on these tiny titans of travel!

Our early morning visit to the El Tatio Geyser Basin—at almost 14,000 feet—was certainly a chilly way to start the day!  With 80 active geysers, El Tatio is the third largest geyser field in the world after those in Yellowstone and Kamchatka—but at a much, much higher elevation.  For the full photographic effect of the dense hot and steamy superheated water jetting into the sky, you must arrive very early in the morning.  That means rising from bed at a nasty time in the dead of night for the slow drive up the mountain.  It is a moody and otherworldly landscape.  Although the air temperature is well below freezing at this hour, the rising columns of steam are thick and photogenic in the early morning light.  Then, amazingly, once the sun rises above the surrounding mountain peaks, the air heats up quickly and the steam all but disappears!  This is one of those clear instances on a photo trip where “if you snooze, you lose!”

After several days of photography and altitude acclimation in Chile we were on our way to Bolivia—but not so fast!  At 8 AM our vans were lined up at the Chilean Customs house with 40 or more double-decked car-carrying trucks laden with used Japanese and South Korean cars destined for Bolivia and Paraguay.  At six years old, these cars are fully depreciated—with a very low resale value.  Environmental regulations foster a high expense of scrapping these cars in Japan, so after six years they are put on ships and exported to many countries around the world—primarily the Third World.  Goods shipped across the Pacific for landlocked Bolivia and Paraguay arrive at several Chilean ports and are trucked across the Andes.  This morning, sandwiched between trucks, we were winding our way through this international commerce queue!

Gaining several thousand feet in elevation, we came to a relatively dilapidated checkpoint that looked somewhat like a set in an old Grade B movie—it was the Bolivian Customs building!  After lining up and having our paperwork inspected, again, we met our friendly crew of Bolivian van drivers and were finally on our way.  From here, we would not see another paved road for quite some time!

We climbed higher and higher into the Altiplano, traveling through starkly picturesque Andean passes at altitudes above 14,000 feet.  En route we passed numerous steaming volcanoes, colorful borax lakes and all forms of volcanic formations from giant lava bombs to colorful rhyolite cliffs, until we arrived at the superlative, flamingo-filled Laguna Colorada.

This borax-laden lake is like no other water body I’ve ever seen.  Salmon-red, surrounded by snow-white borax sands under a deep azure sky with billowing cumulus clouds.  Large white tornadoes of borax dust—many more than 100 feet high—twist across the landscape as sun and wind gains intensity.  Large groups of Andean and James’ flamingos feed in the shallows, concentrating where sweet fresh water flows into the red-pigmented basin.  An excellent location for both landscape and flamingo photography!

During a lengthy late afternoon drive across the Altiplano toward our hotel, it seemed as if we were out in the middle of nowhere.  Then, from a distance, we could make out tiny buildings—and all wondered what kind of hotel we would find so very far away from virtually everything.  Yet, here at 14,000 feet, we found a warm, comfortable modern hotel with a wonderful lounge and a dining room that served delicious food!  Why would anyone build such a nice little hotel in such a remote “wilderness”?  It was a co-op enterprise where the people from a small village shared in the profits by supplying a fantastic place for passing international visitors to have a welcome break from the bouncy jeep trails on the way to the amazing Salar de Uyuni.

The Salar de Uyuni!  The world’s largest salt flat is, without a doubt, the photographic highlight of any trip to this part of the planet.  The setting is dreamlike—a 4,000-square-mile blinding white ocean surrounded by mountains and studded with “islands” adorned with giant cacti and old lava flows that were once the crown of an ancient volcano.

Driving across the Salar feels like sledding across endless Arctic pack ice or flying over miles of solid clouds.  Near its edges, intricate hexagonal salt patterns are formed by sun and wind.  The central Salar is smooth—extremely flat and largely featureless.  As mere specks on the horizon, the distant mountains seem unreachable.  All perspective of size and distance is gone.  A cloudscape of unimaginable proportions spans horizon to horizon.  It is reflected in areas of shallow water that create a weird synthesis of heaven and earth.

The tiny Quechua town of Colchani is the base for the salt mining operation we’ve come to photograph.  Loose salt is scraped into well-ordered conical piles allowing it to drain and dry before it is shoveled (manually) onto dump trucks and shipped to the processing “plant.”  The draining mounds are reflected in the half-inch-deep water surrounding them.  The white salt catches the colors of the setting sun which greatly enhances this almost supernatural landscape.  Who would have thought simple piles of salt could be so beautiful?  As we photographed, storm clouds were building on the horizon.  Bolts of lightning radiated from their darkened centers as night fell.  Perhaps it wasn’t one of my brighter ideas, being the tallest object on the Salar, to stand in salt water to get shots of lightning bolts and salt piles?

These nights we returned to our charming hotel—with walls built entirely of salt blocks.  Its floors were made of 6-inch-deep crushed rock salt—yet another unusual sensation in a land of innumerable unusual experiences.

Photographing at high altitude is both exhilarating and tiring.  Sleeping at 14,000 feet is a challenge, but restlessness can be overcome by taking melatonin or other sleep aids.  Drives are long, especially in Bolivia.  An “only a half hour more” of drive time in “Bolivian” means 3 hours more in “North American.”  But here, in this infrequently traveled part of the world, the photography rewards are great as long as you are willing to slow down and “go with the flow!”

Outdoor Photographer: What’s your dream Kenya photo assignment? Be creative!

Joe Van Os: I’d like to spend a year photographing Samburu people at a time when there is a shift in age-set (every 14 or 15 years). This is when younger boys become Moran warriors and the older Morani advance to become Junior Elders, and Juniors to Seniors.  It’s a time of ceremony and celebration and a phenomenon I don’t think will survive the onslaught of “Westernization” in the future.

OP: What’s your favorite photograph of Kenya, not taken by you?

JVO: I don’t have a favorite photo. I have a favorite collection of photos and that would be Fritz Pölking’s Leopards monograph. The images were created with such passion and dedication that you can’t help but admire them as an amazing body of work.

OP: What’s the one geographic area in Kenya that you love best and why?

JVO: The Masai Mara, without question. The wildlife is totally amazing and the wildebeest and zebra migration can be breathtaking. It’s probably as close to “Eden” as I’ll ever get.

OP: What’s the one incredible photo (one each) in the realms of nature/scenic, wildlife and cultural that you have captured over the years on your trips to Kenya?

JVO: Although the images are considered cliché, you can’t beat a sunrise over the savannah.  I’ve shot some amazing silhouettes of acacia trees and “ridge lined” animals that have always made me happy.  As for wildlife, years ago I photographed a lioness that was defending her kill from a big male who was trying to take it away from her.  With teeth bared and claws extended she pushed him away with a facial expression scary enough to repel Godzilla.  I thought I had nailed the image at about 1/1000th of a second shutter speed.  When I looked down at the camera I realized it was set at 1/25 of a second and my heart sank. After the trip, the film was processed.  When I opened the box of slides with the lion shots, I discovered the most ferocious blur of an attacking lion I had ever seen—one I have sold many times!

OP: What’s the ONE shot that you missed that you feel you won’t capture again?

JVO: Shots from the bombing of the American Embassy in Nairobi on August 7, 1998.  I was in Nairobi that day and decided not to go near the area.  I hope I never have that opportunity again.

If I were asked about wildlife shots I’d say: I’ve missed many great shots over the years and they get better in my mind every time I lament not getting them.  These days, I’m content with the good ones I do get!

OP: What’s the one piece of photographic equipment that you can’t do without on an African photo safari?

JVO: A large high quality telephoto zoom like Nikon’s 200-400 zoom.  I really miss this lens since I switched to Canon several years ago!

OP: If you had to spill out the contents of your photo bag, what would we see (cameras, lenses, accessories and unique items/brand names)?

JVO: I’m now a Canon shooter.  I carry a 1DS Mark III body for landscapes and static animal shots and two 1D Mark III bodies for wildlife action.  Lenses I use in Kenya include a 500mm, 100-400mm zoom, 24-105mm zoom, 16-35mm zoom and a 15mm fisheye.  I also carry a flash unit, “Better Beamer” flash extender,  a bubble level for panorama stitching, polarizing filter, Really Right Stuff ball head and a Gitzo tripod.  For rooftop shooting from safari vehicles, a bean bag is essential.  I also carry a small bottle of aspirin in my camera pack in case of a heart attack.  It can be really exciting out there!  These days many of us in the Baby Boomer Generation aren’t as young as we used to be.

OP: What’s your favorite camera feature?

JVO: Fast autofocus—you miss too much action without it!

OP: If you could have dinner with a Kenya person from any era in one of these realms—political, explorer, conservation, artistic, photographic—who would it be and why?

JVO: Wangari Maathai—she’s a gutsy lady who has really made a difference in Kenya, and the world at large, through her environmental conservation efforts with her tree planting campaign (Pan African Green Belt Movement), promoting human rights and her struggle for democracy.  She’s the first African woman to win a Nobel Peace Prize among many other “firsts” and I’m certain a dinner conversation with her would be interesting and enlightening.

OP: Who are your favorite authors of books on Kenya—fiction or nonfiction (West with the Night, for example)?

JVO:  I really spend my time with my nose buried in field guides and works on animal behavior.  Safari clients expect a lot from a leader and they want to learn more about the wildlife than what f/stop to use in the field.

During the first part of our journey, we traveled deep into Tampa Bay to areas accessible only by boat where we photographed at one of the largest roseate spoonbill colonies in North America.  Although numbers were down due to the freezing temperatures experienced throughout much of Florida this winter, we were afforded some dazzling displays of spoonbills in their breeding plumage.  Our experienced Captain James, who is also an accomplished photographer, guided us into a remote bay on a tiny Island in Tampa Bay.  While some members of our group remained in the boat to photograph, a few ventured into the water with tripods and long lenses to shoot the birds from a low-level perspective.  With the water level at 1 to 2 feet in depth, the low shooting angle offered excellent eye-level images of spoonbills feeding and preening, along with their mating displays.

For the first several days we explored Tampa Bay shooting brown and white pelicans, white ibis, egrets, black-crowned night heron, tri-colored heron, osprey, and numerous other bird species.  One of my special photographic subjects, along with the spoonbills, was the brown pelican, which offered some of the best flight and bird behavior images in all of Florida.  Cruising like gliders, the pelicans continually flew in and out of their rookery—feeding, bathing and preening right in front of our camera lenses and, at times, nearly taking off our hats with their low flight patterns.  On one memorable occasion a member of our group was christened with the infamous “white shower” during a low-level pass.  An honorable moment in the trials and tribulations of bird photography!

By midweek, we moved to our second shooting location in the Kissimmee lowlands of central Florida.  Lake Tohopekaliga spreads out over 24,000 acres and is surrounded by 100,000 acres of marshland, along with numerous rivers and grasslands.  The area now supports the largest population of endangered snail kites in all of Florida.  It was here that our captain navigated the boat through the cattails and rushes to find us the best snail kite photo opportunities on the planet.  With an in-depth knowledge of the area and accomplished photographer himself, Captain Jim knew the locations for the best possible kite images.  In addition to the endangered snail kite, we moved around the lake to different locations throughout the day to photograph rookeries filled with egrets, anhinga, turtles, alligators and other species too numerous to mention.

Overall the tour was one of my most memorable for photographing birds in Florida.  But what really set the trip apart were the opportunities for shooting a diversity of birds in a variety of both coastal and freshwater habitats.  No crowds, no “standing room only” shooting, and the ability to travel by boat in wild settings made this trip extra special.  There is something soothing and tranquil about floating on the water listening to the cacophony of bird songs in live surround sound.  I can bring home the digital images and view them on the computer to bring back the fleeting moments—but the sounds of solitude and the energy of bird life are what will remain imprinted in my long-term memory.  That is what made it the “Ultimate Florida” experience.

Fall foliage was just beginning to turn color in the lowlands around our jumping-off point of Punta Arenas, Chile. But our group was heading, by way of the scenic Chilean coastal town of Puerto Natales, to a higher elevation—and more advanced fall color—at Los Glaciares National Park in Argentina.

Puerto Natales supports a major fishing industry whose colorful wooden boats and dilapidated town dock are highly photogenic. We photographed in early morning light when these old boats oozed with rich colors. The rotting pilings of the abandoned town dock appear to march in military formation into the sea. They make a wonderful perch for the dolphin and kelp gulls and the imperial shags that roost on them. The birds add a welcome touch of wildlife to this unusual graphic landscape. Photogenic black-necked and coscoroba swans cruise the shoreline and groups of Chilean flamingos wade in the shallows. And, in the distance, mountains appear and disappear as clouds sweep across the sky.

We drove to the town of El Calefate in Argentina crossing the pampas and passing “herds” of lesser rheas and guanacos en route. Classic estancias (ranches) with huge flocks of sheep and their attendant gauchos, expansive fertile grasslands supporting grazing sheep, and flocks of migrating upland geese were frequent sights along the way. A large wetland adjacent to El Calefate provided the opportunity to shoot flamingos, ducks and shorebirds in warm afternoon light when we arrived.

Glacier photography is a big component of our Patagonia tour. The next morning we were up and out before dawn to make the one-hour drive to Perito Moreno Glacier in order to arrive before sunrise. The overcast sky foreshadowed the heavy mountain snowfall that would arrive over the next several days, but a small clear crack of open sky allowed for the magenta light of daybreak to illuminate the mountains rising behind the cold blue ice of the glacier. We had about five minutes of spectacular light before the sun was obscured by the clouds. The rest of the day we were treated to high clouds and light overcast conditions which were ideal for photographing this impressive glacier. The overcast sky wonderfully enhanced the depth of the chill blue color.

During our stay in the tourist town of El Chalten, the rain arrived in the lower elevations, keeping the legendary Fitzroy Massif shrouded in clouds. But, with the rain, the rich colors of the austral autumn were reflected in the Las Vueltas River. We drove for miles photographing our way through southern beech forest where the tree trunks, wet and black, added the “bones” of graphic line and structure to the images we made.

Each morning we were up before dawn waiting for Fitzroy to reveal its granite walls. Behind us were the fiery red clouds of sunrise, but the Fitzroy Massif creates its own weather—thick impenetrable swirling clouds. We knew it was snowing heavily in the higher elevations—but if we could just get a peek! Andean condors, black-chested buzzard eagles, aplomado and peregrine falcons, and three species of caracaras were our morning companions—but not Fitzroy. And then, at midday on our last full day in El Chalten, the clouds parted for a couple of hours and there it was—Fitzroy in all its glory!

For me the best part of this trip was yet to come—Chile’s Torres del Paine National Park. Torres del Paine is not your “average” national park! It is truly one of the most scenic landscapes on Earth, one with an equally impressive aggregation of wildlife that affords quite a diversity of photography subjects.

As our bus was about to roll into Torres del Paine I made a comment to the group that the park had become a hotbed of activity for cougars (mountain lion, puma) during the day because the guanaco population had become large and able to support a bigger predator population. It wasn’t more than two minutes from the time I made that remark that we spotted a large female cougar on a slope just slightly higher than the vehicle. Suddenly we realized that she was not alone! Four large cubs, almost three-quarters grown, crouched among the rocks surrounding her. Can you imagine the frenzy and consternation as people grabbed for cameras? We stopped the bus and several members of the group were able to get a few photos of the cougar just as she disappeared over the nearby ridge with her cubs. She had gone—or so we thought. We quickly assessed how many trip participants had ever seen a cougar—answer: none. But as we came to the next bend in the road, there they were again! This time, more people managed to fire off images during this encounter. The amazing thing was when we looked at the images on the camera most people assumed they had caught only one cat in the frame. But later, upon a closer look on a computer, there were often two or three cats in the image staring straight at us, cryptically hidden in the light brown rocks!

From our base at Pehoe Lake, the Cuernos del Paine (“Blue Horns” in indigenous language)—one of the most spectacular mountain scenes on Earth—were visible just a few steps from our hotel door. Every morning we were out at dawn to shoot the horns and their ever-changing moods. Here, the compelling grandeur of these jagged peaks was complemented by the changing colors of the bordering autumn foliage.

On one very clear day we drove across the park to beautiful Lago Azul (Blue Lake). On the way we stopped to photograph big herds of guanacos that had come down from the highlands to a more hospitable lowland climate for the winter. At this time, their babies were relatively large, but young enough that they were still nursing.

Lago Azul is surrounded by a pronounced ring of salt—like a giant margarita glass—with the granite towers (Torres del Paine) jutting above the snow-covered slopes of the Andes and the lake’s turquoise water like huge swizzle sticks. This landscape is so immense that condors—with 10-foot wingspans—seem like little specks as they course the massive “big sky” environment.

Our time at Torres del Paine National Park went by quickly. We enjoyed an impromptu photo session with two very cooperative gauchos as they galloped their horses in front of the photogenic Cuernos del Paine. A boat trip on Lago Grey produced many shots of icebergs, the Grey Glacier and serrate mountains. Unwary red and grey foxes, numerous songbirds, an austral pygmy owl and Magellanic woodpeckers rounded out our wildlife shooting opportunities. Mountain peaks reflected in mirror lakes, granite spires scraping the endless sky, billowing clouds, and the rich colors of the austral autumn were among the many landscape subjects now collected in our memories and memory cards.

On my last morning in Honolulu I lay in my hotel room listening to the familiar sounds of our urban world: the dull drone of traffic, a misbehaving car alarm, a garbage truck on its appointed rounds, the impatient scream of an ambulance, and the rattle of countless decaying mufflers. Twenty-four hours later, the sounds from my bedroom on Midway were of a gentler nature that filled my heart with gladness. Sounds like the whistle and bill-clacking of hundreds of lovesick albatrosses, the chatter of angelic white terns, and the aerial screams of Bonin petrels made my spirit soar.

One of the first photo stops my group and I made on Midway was a place called Rusty Bucket where none of us were prepared for the assault of color that confronted us. Above us, wispy clouds streaked across an azure sky and, beneath our feet, a carpet of soft coral sand padded our path and was so painfully white that it made us squint. And beyond our collective gaze, the offshore waters rippled in tints of aquamarine far richer than any Photoshop slider could possibly duplicate. Add to that the double chocolate feather finery of courting black-footed albatrosses, and if ever there was a tropical paradise, then surely this is how it should look.

Albatrosses are the major attraction on Midway—487,500 Laysan pairs, plus 24,000 black-footed pairs. Aside from the myriad photo opportunities these birds present I was struck by their endearing curiosity. In one of my earliest encounters, as I was lying on the ground trying to get a better angle on a pair of courting Laysans, I was approached by a third albatross. First the curious bird tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, then it tapped a couple of times on the front element of my camera lens, after which it gently nibbled the side of my hand. To complete its investigation of Homo photographicus recumbentii it pulled on my hair a few times. The bird never seemed aggressive, just charmingly inquisitive. What a memorable view I had through my 12mm wide-angle lens.

The red-tailed tropicbirds turned out to be one of my favorite Midway subjects to photograph in flight. During the heat of midday, as thermals bubbled skyward from the island, the birds would wheel aloft in groups, sometimes numbering five or six, squawking repeatedly. Tropicbirds are unique among seabirds in being able to fly backwards. When they do this, they sweep the long red streamers of their tail forward, flare their black webbed feet, and tilt backwards while they execute this difficult aerial maneuver. It’s probable that the fancy flying is a way for potential mates to advertise to each other how fit and healthy they are.

Over 5,000 pairs of tropicbirds nest on Midway but unlike many of the other seabirds on this island that raise their chicks in the open, tropicbirds prefer shady locations, especially under the cover of casuarina trees. The birds nest in small clusters, so typically when I found one bird in a grove of trees I would often find another seven or eight nearby. The tropicbirds on Midway are wonderfully unwary and those on nests always allowed us to get very close for photographs. With patience we could sometimes watch the birds turn their single egg or shuffle around the nest while they were incubating. Laysan albatrosses were always nearby and a couple of times we watched a curious albatross chick comically tug on the tail feathers of a snoozing tropicbird. The elegant crimson tail feathers of the tropicbird were used as ornaments by ancient Hawaiians as they are today on some South Pacific islands.

Midway gets roughly 50 inches of rain per year, so every visitor can expect a brief shower or two during any week-long stay on the island. The photographer in me wanted to experience at least a little rain to see how the different seabirds coped. A photo editor once told me when I was going out on assignment, “When the weather is at its worst and you are feeling miserable, that’s the time to pull out your camera.” Well, the weather on Midway never got really nasty and I was never close to being miserable, but the editor was right about the potential of photography under challenging weather conditions. The infrequent showers gave us soggy-headed chicks with comical moussed-up feathers, mirror reflections of albatrosses in roadside puddles, and constellations of dewdrops on the plumage of sleeping birds. After a morning of showers and some exciting photography a couple of happy participants yelled out, “Bring on the rain.”

A favorite subject among all of us was the delicate white terns that would sometimes flutter buoyantly above us like angels on the wing. White terns are considered sacred by many indigenous peoples in the South Pacific and among some ancient Hawaiian inhabitants. With 7,500 nesting pairs, Midway Atoll boasts the largest nesting colony of white terns in the entire Hawaiian archipelago. One author remarked, “If white terns are holy, then Midway must be heaven.”

Every day on Midway the sun set around 7:15 PM, so we didn’t lose any beauty sleep when we wanted to capture the last rays of the day. Sometimes the day blinked out in a miniature flash of green on the horizon, and at other times it slowly faded away behind a gray bank of clouds. Now and then, however, the setting sun challenged us to use its orange brilliance to silhouette the wooing displays of albatrosses set against a fiery sky. Looking into the sun sometimes left us with temporary spots in front of our eyes but the images we captured were ample reward.

There are only two native mammals on Midway: the Hawaiian hoary bat, which I never saw, and the Hawaiian monk seal, which we saw a number of times—mostly from a distance except on one remarkable occasion—but I’m getting ahead of my story. The native Hawaiians called the 8-foot long, 500-pound monk seal “the dog running in the surf.” Historically, the monk seal population may have numbered in the tens of thousands, but in the early 1800s the seals were slaughtered to near extinction for food, oil and pelts by guano miners, feather hunters and shipwrecked sailors. Today, monk seals are slowly recovering and now number around 1,300, of which an estimated 65 live in the waters of the Midway Atoll. Monk seals are generally sensitive to human disturbance so Fish and Wildlife officials wisely recommend that visitors not approach the seals any closer than 150 feet. I had told the group in advance that we would probably not photograph the seals and should content ourselves with distant views of a rare species that was rescued from extinction by prudent conservation measures. I intended to obey the distance restrictions, and so did the group, but apparently not all seals were aware of the rules. One afternoon, when our group was standing on a concrete seawall admiring the offshore aquamarine waters, a monk seal surfaced in the distance and swam purposefully towards us. There was no beach in front of us so its aim wasn’t to haul itself ashore. No one will ever know what thoughts were in the mind of that seal but it came within 15 feet of us, circled a time or two, and then swam away on more important business. Midway is like that—unexpected precious moments happen almost every day.

Sometimes I can get a sense of how successful a photo trip has been by the number of images people shoot. I forgot to take a tally among the folks in my first group, but my second group of 14 photographers took a total of 85,000 images. The minimum number was around 3,000 and the maximum was 15,000. I know what everyone will be doing for the next few weeks: editing, editing, editing. But when your images are filled with color, action and unpredictability, editing can be a labor of love. So, if you are thinking about a photo destination in 2011 that will not disappoint you, consider Midway Atoll. I’ll be there. Hope you can join me.

The Park lies on a massive volcanic caldera and the winter’s extreme cold weather creates a land of fire and ice. Geysers, thermal pools, steam vents and warm ground conflict with the freezing temperatures to form some of the greatest displays of ice sculptures and winter landscapes on the globe. The park’s wintering populations of buffalo, elk, wolves, coyotes, trumpeter swans and numerous other species make ideal subjects for nature photographers. It’s this winter wonderland—and the lack of visitors—that make Yellowstone a special place in winter.

In subfreezing temperatures shooting while wearing gloves and heavy clothing makes performing normal camera functions cumbersome. I’ve rarely had issues with the effects of cold weather on camera equipment—except for batteries. They generally drain quickly, but taking some small energy-saving measures, like shutting off the preview mode and turning the camera off when not in use, can greatly increase battery life. If you are unsure how your camera performs in cold weather, consult the camera manual for the battery life expectancy. Many of the new digital cameras, like the Canon 1D series, have long-lasting Lithium-Ion batteries that perform exceptionally well in cold conditions. Regardless of the longevity, it is good practice to carry some spares and to charge them every night.

One of the main issues I do have when shooting in extreme cold conditions is what I call the “adjustment period.” It is the time it takes for the camera temperature to equalize with the room temperature after being out in the cold all day. If it was 30 below outside and the room temperature is 70 degrees, then the temperature gradient is 100 degrees! When you have a difference of this magnitude, a rind of ice will form over the camera, lenses and other equipment immediately upon entering a warm room. To prevent ice buildup, the solution is to leave cameras and lenses in the bag for several hours before opening and handling the equipment. Patience pays off!

Since changing lenses is cumbersome in the cold, I tend to gravitate toward zoom lenses. When hiking around the geyser basins I carry only a few lenses. Generally I pack my 16-35mm, 24-105mm, and either a 70-200mm or 100-400mm zoom. If I am carrying two cameras, I can cover a broad angle of view with just one or two lenses and change them less frequently. For fun I carry my 15mm and a Canon 300D close-up lens for macro. The latter is very convenient and lightweight for close-up work—ice, frost and macro details.

With over 30 years photographing in Yellowstone I never tire of the magic the park has to offer in terms of photographic opportunities—and winter is my favorite time of year. In January 2011 I’ll be leading the Ultimate Yellowstone trip for Joseph Van Os Photo Safaris into the heart of Yellowstone. We’ll travel by private snow coach through some of the best landscapes, geyser basins and wildlife habitat in the country. We will visit many of the famous geyser basins, including Upper, Lower and Midway Geyser Basin, along with Norris, Mammoth and others. Wintering herds of buffalo and elk frequent many areas of the park—and nothing matches the majestic herds of buffalo in the Hayden Valley.

I hope you will join me on this once-in-a-lifetime adventure in this landscape of fire and ice. If you would like to learn more about the park you can reference my new book, Fodor’s Compass American Guide to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks written by Brian Kevin and illustrated by Jeff Vanuga (1st Edition, Random House, 2009).