California, March 2024.
From the video Snow, rain and fallen trees in the Redwoods.
Giants in the fog
in photographs
Distant storm
in photographs
Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
Life and death in the desert
in photographs
Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
The roof of Smith Rock
in photographs
Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
Serene Derwentwater
in photographs
Lake District, England, October 2023.
From the video Lake District National Park ~ Black and White Photography.
Rocks in the mist
in photographs
Old Man of Storr, Scotland, September 2023.
From the video Isle of Skye.
John Day
in photographs
Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
Big skies
in photographs
Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
Awe
in journal
This sight may fade away from your memory over time, but you will never forget the way witnessing it made you feel.
Indiana, April 2024.
The Windmill
in photographs
La Mancha, December 2021.
From the video Photographing Don Quixote's giants in La Mancha.
Martian landscape
in photographs
Central Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
Desert Tree
in photographs
Central Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
The gift of the desert
in photographs
Central Oregon, March 2024.
From the video The gift of the desert.
The gift of the desert
in journal
Weather and chance lead me to Central Oregon, the next destination on my road trip across the American West. But this leg of the journey wasn't going to be as smooth as I was hoping for.
There, far away from everything and everyone, I fight the elements and an even more powerful enemy: my inner demons. I doubt myself, my photography, and even my purpose. An accident that resulted in a broken lens didn't make things any better; neither did a very cluttered mind after spending several days trapped inside the car.
The isolation of the desert was another unpleasant layer, but as the days went by, and with no other option but to embrace it, it became exactly the medicine I needed. It was the gift of the desert.
Cliffs
in photographs
California, February 2024.
From the video Chasing bad weather at Yosemite.
Rocks and mountains
in photographs
Scotland, August 2023.
From the video Isle of Skye.
Tree seeking light
in photographs
England, October 2023.
From the video Lake District.
Spring cleaning
in journal
After years of doing this, one thing is pretty clear to me: more gear, more problems. A lesson I should’ve learned a long time ago, and yet, here we are.
During my most recent road trip across the US, despite lugging around 8-9 lenses, I did most of my photography and video work with just 2 of them. Add a couple of primes and the telephoto for those rare images that needed them, and the math tells me I’ve got 4-5 too many lenses.
But it gets worse, because of all the accessories and other gadgets cluttering up my bag: from the neglected 360 camera to the wireless mic that my phone could easily replace. It’s all excess baggage.
So, it’s time for a spring cleaning. I went through my bag (and closet) and decided to part ways with a bunch of stuff. Letting go is the easy part, though. The real challenge will be to resist the temptation to fill those now-empty spaces back up with new and shiny objects. To stay light.
Because out there, when the hike gets tough, when the weather takes a turn for the worse, when you are tired and exhausted after hours of chasing the shot... less is more. Always.
Trees in a sea of clouds
in photographs
Oregon, March 2024.
From the video Snow, rain and fallen trees in the Redwoods.
Scars of a road trip
in journal
I’ve talked about the scars of war before. How cameras and lenses are meant to be used rather than left on a shelf.
This belief of mine was put to the test during my latest road trip across the West. I got snow, heavy rain, intense winds, and storms. I shot along the coast, in the rainforest, in the high desert, amidst the red landscapes of Utah, and on sand dunes. It was exhilarating at times, frustrating at others.
Twice, I dropped my cameras.
The first incident happened at the Painted Hills in Oregon. My video camera (a7iv) took a bad fall while I was recording myself on a windy late afternoon. I was rushing everything and failed to properly secure the tripod.
My heart skipped a few beats when I turned around and saw the destruction. I feared I’d lost the camera. Fortunately, it was “just” the 17-28mm lens that broke on the mount.
Now, that lens lives in my a7iv as I use it all the time for my videos. So hastily, I purchased another copy (a used one) on eBay. It turns out that was another bad, rushed decision on my part. Because once I got home a few days later, I managed to put the “broken” lens back together, and it seems to work just fine! So now, I own two 17-28mm lenses.
That wasn’t the end of my gear related accidents, though. A couple of weeks later, in the Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado, I dropped my stills camera in the sand.
This was a rare accident. I don’t remember what I was doing with my video camera, but I thought that holding the a7riv between my legs was a good idea. I often do it without any trouble. However, this was a very, very windy day. I lost a bit of balance at some point and I instinctively tried to correct myself by shifting one of my legs, which made the camera fall into the sand. Thankfully, these cameras are well sealed and nothing bad happened. I cleaned it with the air blower, and that was it.
We are all one road trip older now -- my cameras and I. They bear new scars, and I probably grew some new gray hairs. We stumbled, we fell, but we stood back up. We are prepared for the next adventure. Unsure if any wiser than before, but certainly still strong enough.