For the first three days we stayed in a traditional ryoken (Japanese inn) in the centre of the city. From there we visited a small number of the astonishing preponderance of temples and shrines that seem to appear around every corner. I will post a few images from these venues later but it was in our last two days, in the district of Arashiyama, tucked up against a lovely range of mountains and bisected by a scenic river, that proved to be the most photographically rewarding for me.

Not far from the ryoken where we stayed, lies a dense bamboo forest, which has become one of Kyoto’s most famous sites. A winding, paved path runs between the two sections of bamboo groves and photographs of this path with the tightly packed bamboo on either side are amongst the most iconic images from Kyoto.

When I arrived I spent a long time walking up and down this path wondering how I could make some different images from those that adorn the guide books. Settling on my trusty 70-200mm lens and Gitzo tripod, my initial efforts were rather feeble.

Bamboo grove, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

 The addition of  a sun-burst made the next image a little more interesting.

Bamboo grove with sun burst, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

 The following image, while still not terribly inspiring, took a little more thought. It is in fact, a composite of three images, each taken with a different point of focus (foreground, middle and background), by manually turning the focusing ring for each image. By doing so, an image with unlimited depth of field has been created, something that would be impossible with the focal length that I was using even with the lens stopped down to its smallest aperture. The photoshop work required to make this image is straightforward. The three images were opened via Bridge as layers (tools>photoshop>load files into photoshop layers). Once photoshop is open, select all three images in the layers palette by holding down the shift key. Then go edit>auto>align layers and click OK after selecting the auto setting when the window opens. Once the image reopens in photoshop you will notice if you look carefully that the extreme edges of the image may show a box line. When you turn the focusing ring, you are actually slightly changing the magnification. A simple, minor crop around the edges gets rid of this problem. Then with all the layers still active go edit>auto blend layers and use stack images in the window that opens making sure that seamless tones and colours is selected. Voila – seemless front to back sharpness.

Bamboo grove, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

So far all my images had been taken from the path that ran through the bamboo grove. I now left this path and ventured into the forest and it was here after a period of contemplation that my creative juices bagan to flow.

Looking up, I saw the opportunity to change the perspective with the use of a fish-eye lens helping to amplify the impact of the bamboo trunks arching symetrically into the sky.  

Bamboo grove, fish-eye view looking up, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

 I then spent a long time creating “blurs” of the bamboo. To do this I played around with various long shutter speeds, moving the lens in a vertical direction while the shutter was open. I eventually found that the best results were achived with a shutter speed of 2 seconds. My own personal preference when shooting all types of blurs is to retain some detail in the subject and one of the best ways to do this is to use a little fill flash (between -2 to -3 ev). Below are some of the results.

Bamboo grove blur, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

Bamboo grove blur, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

Bamboo grove blur, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

Bamboo grove blur, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

Back at the computer, I had the idea to try combining some of the blur images using the blending modes in photoshop. Again this is quite straightforward. Open two images in photoshop. Select the first image and go select>all, then edit>copy. Then activate the second image and go edit>paste. Before you begin, it is a good idea to make sure both images are of the same size (eg 240 dpi, 5616 x 3744 pixels) by going to image>image size. Once all this has been done, go the layers palette and open the blend mode list at the top left (the default is normal). Experiment with the various blending modes to see which one you like best. For these images I used either overlay or soft light.

Once done, I further refined my images by going into Nik Software’s Colour Efex Pro 4: first to foliage and then to brilliance/warmth. Once back in photoshop I adjusted the opacity of the layer created by the filters, to taste. Here are some results, the last image being my favorite which in fact is a blend of three images.

Bamboo grove blur, blended images, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

Bamboo grove blur, blended images, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

Bamboo grove blur, blended images, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

In 2006 I undertook my first aerial photography flight in Kenya and since then I have been hopelessly addicted. Of all the wildlife, landscape and underwater photographic situations I have been in over the years, nothing can quite beat sitting in a small plane, doors open (removed) beside you and the scenic wonders of Kenya unfolding below.

It also gives you an appreciation of what an immensely diverse country Kenya is from a geographic standpoint. It’s hard to think of another country outside the major continental landmasses that contains the variety that Kenya has. From tropical beaches to glaciers to alpine meadows to deserts to rainforest to open Savannah to rivers and soda lakes, Kenya really does have it all. But in my view, the most spectacular landscapes, certainly as seen from the air, lie in the extreme north of the country.

Lying in the cradle of the Great Rift Valley, this is a land from another time. Virtually untouched by the hand of man, it is a parched, heat blasted, largely vegetation-devoid landscape, punctuated by ancient volcanic features and shallow soda lakes on which thousands of Flamingos seek refuge. Mostly inaccessible by vehicle and a great distance from the well-known tourist parks, it is seldom visited by tourists or outsiders. The lives of the handful of hardy tribes that eke out a meager existence from the unforgiving terrain have, for the most part, changed little over the last several decades.

An aerial visit to this area has now become something of an annual pilgrimage for me. Drug addicts have heroin and cocaine and alcoholics their spirits but for me it’s aerial photography in northern Kenya.  As long as my trusty pilot is still around to do the flying and the cost doesn’t get completely crazy (this is not a cheap undertaking!), I hope to keep fueling my addiction.

And so six hours after disembarking from my international flight, I found myself back in the small Cessna climbing into the skies above Nairobi. More than an hour later, we touched down at a remote, dusty airstrip where we removed the doors at the back of the right side of the plane. Firmly strapped in – it’s only a seat belt between you and a death spiral to the ground – we headed for Lake Logipi, a small seasonal soda lake, just south of Lake Turkana. This is my single favourite destination in the area. As a seasonal lake, conditions are always different each time I go, being entirely dependent on the amount of rainfall that the lake has received in the preceding months. Some years I have arrived to find an almost bone dry lake bed with only a few pools remaining around the spectacular volcanic feature of Cathedral rock. In 2011, the area had unusually heavy rain in April and May and even more surprising, in August.

As we approached the lake, I could see that water levels were higher than I had ever seen them, but more importantly, there were staggering numbers of Flamingos – certainly, the congregations were larger than anything that I had seen previously.

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos grouped tightly together in the mud and algae-infused shallow waters of Lake Logipi, Kenya

During the formation of the soda lakes in Kenya’s Great Rift Valley, much of the ground was covered in volcanic ash, rich in sodium carbonate. Rain water and rivers percolating through the soil and flowing over rocks, absorbed and transported volcanic chemicals and mineral salts into the lakes. The Rift Valley Lakes are unconnected and have no outlets. The dissolved salts accumulated and have been concentrated through evaporation leaving behind sodium compounds, specifically sodium bicarbonate and sodium hydroxide. Concentrations of these compounds vary from lake to lake, influenced heavily by the amount of rain. The less rain, the greater the concentration and typically the more vivid the colours. High concentrations also make the lake waters highly corrosive. A few years ago, a helicopter was forced to ditch in Lake Logipi. The pilot and passengers all survived but one of the passengers was trapped in the helicopter with her legs underneath the water. When she was eventually freed several hours later, her injuries were not the result of the crash but rather the scalding she received from the corrosive waters.

While the lakes are inhospitable to most life forms, the Flamingos thrive in them. And the reason for this is that one plant species has adapted to cope with the challenging conditions – algae, and in particular one species, spirulina. The algae thrive in the mix of carbonate and phosphate rich waters, high temperatures and abundant sunlight. The algae in turn, provide the flamingos with the all nutrition they need while the corrosive waters keep predatory threats to a minimum.

Because of the heavy rain in Kenya in 2011, many of its soda lakes have had much higher water levels than usual. This has had the effect of diluting the concentrations of algae, making some of the lakes less attractive to the Flamingos. Although water levels in Logipi were much higher, muddier and browner than normal (the lake is fed by the Seguta River) there was still more than sufficient concentrations of algae to sustain vast quantities of Flamingos. In 2011, the numbers were further elevated by the shunning of Lakes Nakuru and Elementatia, further down the Rift Valley, by the birds on account of insufficient algae production due to the heavy rains.

Flying around the edge of the lake, we passed over many small and giant pink clouds of Flamingos. On this flight, I concentrated mainly on tighter group shots using a 70-200mm lens.

Hundreds of Greater and Lesser Flamingos taking flight, aerial shot, Lake Logipi, Kenya

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos, grouped tightly together, walking through the shallow, muddy waters of Lake Logipi, Kenya

Are you one of those people who sees shapes in clouds? I certainly am, and I’m always looking for shapes in the Flamingo groupings. Over the years, I’ve taken images from the air of Flamingos in heart, tree, mushroom, devil tail and sperm (!) shapes. What do you see in the image below? I see a Shrew.

Aerial shot of Shrew-shaped congregation of Lesser Flamingos on the shallow, mud coloured waters of Lake Logipi, Kenya

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the feeding Flamingos cast attractive shadows on the shallow brown waters.

Hundreds of Greater and Lesser Flamingos feeding in the shallow waters of Lake Logipi, Kenya, aerial shot

After an overnight stay on the western shore of Lake Turkana, we had another aerial session over Lake Logipi before heading south down the Seguta Valley. This time we took a slightly different course to explore an area of sand dunes that my pilot had discovered earlier in the year.

Small Date Palm clump among sand dunes, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

Interspersed between some of the sand dune are ancient volcanic features.

Aruba Rock set amongst sand dunes, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

Even these dunes received heavy rain, leaving behind finger-shaped pools of brown water.

Sand dune and temporary rain filled pool, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

As we were leaving this wonderous area, a helicopter appeared, providing a degree of perspective to the dunes. If you are thinking about ever hiring a helicopter for aerial photography, which given the hovering capabilities of a helicopter, would provide the ideal platform for flight photography, you’d better have a seriously large bank balance as the cost is truly astronomic and far more than the charter of a light aircraft.

Helicopter flying over sand dunes, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

Helicopter landing in sand dunes, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

Continuing down the Seguta Valley, we came to an area of ancient lava fields. This area is on occasion fed by temporary, seasonal streams and small rivers, allowing vegetation to flourish. Small soda pools also occur with the coloration indicating the presence of algae.

Aerial image of seasonal streams and soda pools amongst grassy vegetation, Seguta Valley, Kenya

Soda pools set in volcanic landscape, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, kenya

With aerial photography, I’m always looking for interesting shapes and patterns on the ground.

Lava, wind and rain eroded grooves and gullies, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

Erosion patterns left by seasonal streams, aerial shot, Seguta Valley, Kenya

From the Seguta Valley we continued heading south down the Rift Valley, passing firstly over Lake Baringo and then proceeding onwards to Lake Bogoria. I’ve spent many hours on the lake shore here and there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s the best place to photograph Flamingos from a ground level view. Unlike Lake Nakuru, which can also be very good and which lies three hours south by road, Bogoria receives very few visitors and there are always Flamingos on the lake.

As Bogoria came into view from the plane, it was quickly evident that many of the Flamingos that would normally be at Lake Nakuru, were instead at Lake Bogoria. And if the numbers in Lake Logipi had been impressive, they were even more so in Bogoria.

Aerial image of thousands of Lesser Flamingos lining the shore of Lake Bogoria, Kenya

Aerial image of thousands of Lesser Flamingos carpeting the shallow waters and shore of Lake Bogoria, Kenya

The following image is one of my favourite from the trip. I especially like the small patch of green vegetation.

Thousands of Lesser Flamingos carpet the shallows of Lake Bogoria, Kenya, aerial image

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos along the shore of Lake Bogoria, Kenya

Lesser Flamingos in shallow-water, algae infused pool connected to Lake Bogoria, aerial shot, Kenya

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos on algae infused pool connected to Lake Bogoria, Kenya

Lesser Flamingos surround small island, aerial shot, Lake Bogoria, Kenya

From Bogoria, we made the short hop to Lake Nakuru, where we landed, reattached the doors and headed on down to Nairobi. Four hours later I was back in air, this time headed south to the border with Tanzania and the surreal landscapes of Lake Natron. Much larger than Logipi, Bogoria and Nakuru, it is also shallower although even it had experienced unusually heavy rain in 2011. In most years, the entire lake is full for only a few weeks, usually after the long rains in April and May; for the rest of the year, large expanses are dry, exposing a brittle crust of sodium bicarbonate covering vast expanses of soft, slimy mud. For the Flamingos, it is one of the very few sites in Africa where they breed.

Whatever the conditions, Natron never fails to amaze and from the air, photographic opportunities abound.

Algae trails and cloud reflections on Lake Natron, aerial shot, Tanzania

Algae infused water beside a crust of sodium bicarbonate, aerial shot, Lake Natron, Tanzania

Hundreds of Lesser Flamingos walking through the shallows of Lake Natron, Tanzania, aerial shot

Hundreds of Lesser Flamingos flying over Lake Natron, Tanzania, aerial shot

Aerial image of Greater Flamingos in late afternoon sunlight, walking through the shallow waters of Lake Natron, Tanzania

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos flying in formation over Lake Natron, Tanzania

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos flying over Lake Natron, Tanzania

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos running to take flight, Lake Natron, Tanzania

Aerial image, backlit, of Lesser Flamingos on river tributary flowing into Lake Natron, Tanzania

Aerial shot of Lesser Flamingos walking in shallow water beside the brittle, sodium bicarbonate crust on the shore of Lake Natron, Tanzania

Great White Pelicans grouped together on river bank, aerial shot, Lake Natron area, Tanzania

As we left Natron, we would periodically fly over small groups of the local Masai pastorlists, herding their cattle and goats.

Masai tribespeople leading cows along river bank, northern Lake Natron area, Kenya

After an overnight stay in Nairobi, I flew to the Mara early the next morning. 2011 was an unusual year for the Wildebeest migration in Kenya (everything seems to have been unusual in Kenya in 2011) with the herds arriving earlier than normal in June and many leaving earlier than usual in August and early September. When I arrived there will still pockets of sizeable herds but nothing like the numbers at this same time in previous years. As a consequence, river crossings were less frequent and when they did take place, they were mostly at the relatively unattractive Serena crossing. Therefore, the main focus for me this year was on other animals and activities.

Whereas in 2010, when I devoted much of my time to following a Cheetah mother and her six cubs, this year there were hardly any Cheetahs to be seen. On the other hand there appeared to be unusually large numbers of Jackals and especially, Lions.

Within an hour of arriving in the Mara we had found a Jackal Den with two adults and four pups. While the parents were out looking for food, the youngsters played vigerously for almost an hour before tiring themselves out and retreating to the safety and shelter of the den.

Black-Backed Jackal pups play fighting, Masai Mara, Kenya

Black-Backed Jackal pups playing, Masai Mara, Kenya

Most days the weather followed a predictable pattern for this time of the year: clear mornings with the heat building in the late morning and then with clouds drifting in by mid-afternoon often resulting in an hour or two of rain although on a few of the days this continued into the evening time. We had a number of beautiful sunrises but only one sunset of note, on my first day, when I was able to capture this image of a Crowned Crane in an Acacia tree.

Crowned Crane in Acacia tree silhouetted at sunset, Masai Mara, Kenya

The next morning we headed for the Marsh area where we had spent the previous afternoon in the company of an adult and several cubs. As we were arriving we saw a Lioness walking towards us with a dead Thomson’s Gazelle in its jaws. Whether she had actually killed or scavenged it was unclear.

Lioness carrying Thomson's Gazelle fawn kill, Masai Mara, Kenya

About half a minute after this image was made, the Lioness dropped the kill, turned around and began looking anxiously in the direction, firstly to where her cubs were and then further off into the distance, to an area of woodland. Initially walking, then galloping and then almost breaking into a full sprint, she bounded off in the direction of the cubs. We followed at a distance. After a while we stopped and through binoculars, the object of her distress became all too clear: three male Lions moving rapidly in the direction of her cubs. From the behavior of the Lioness, these males were certainly not from her pride. Rather they were outsiders, bent on taking over her pride. And for any youngsters this would mean certain death if caught. The sole raison d’etre for all adult male Lions is to have a pride of their own, with their own territory and with exclusive breeding rights to the pride’s females. In order to bring the adult females quickly back into heat, cubs will be killed and sub-adults driven away. With the pride’s own males nowhere to be seen to defend the pride against the interlopers, the female’s only action of choice was to try and get the cubs out of harms way as quickly as possible.

Even at a young age, the cubs have pretty good instincts as to what represents danger. The mother was very quickly able to round up all seven of the cubs and all were soon moving rapidly in the opposite direction to the oncoming males. We then noticed that one of the cubs was much smaller than the others. The logical explanation was that this was a cub belonging to another Lioness from the same pride but for whatever reason had joined the creche that the other cubs’ mother was looking after. This smaller cub lacked the agility of the older, larger cubs, and repeatedly lagged behind. The Lioness would always wait patiently for her. At one point this cub looked to be in real danger with the Males having cut the distance to less than 100m but inexplicably at this point, they slowed down and engaged in a spot of mutual grooming. By the time they had finished, the Lioness and cubs were safely out of danger. I have seen on two occasions the results of a pride takeover where cubs are involved and it is sad, gruesome and difficult to watch so these youngsters can count themselves to have been extremely lucky.

A little later the three males got up and walked back from where they had come from; in this case right towards our vehicle.

Three male Lions walking closely together, Masai Mara, Kenya

Three male lions walking closely together, Masai Mara, Kenya

A little later, not far from where we left the Lions, we found four Masai Giraffs engaged in a bout of neck jousting. This went on for the better part of the hour broken occasionally by brief rest periods. During one such moment, I made this image showing some nice symmetry with the necks and heads.

Four Masai Giraffs standing together, Masai Mara, Kenya

In the afternoon it began to rain at which point we caught up with two male Lions. Male Lions are always great subjects in the rain when their manes are sodden with water.

Male Lion with wet mane, snarling, Masai Mara, Kenya

The next morning, before the sun had risen but with the sky a golden yellow, we found a small herd of Elephants on the horizon. Positioning our vehicle in a small undulating valley below the elephants, I was able to avoid cutting off the legs in the shot, which is often the problem when shooting elephant silhouettes.

Two African Elephants walking, silhouetted against dawn sky, Masai Mara, Kenya

After a largely quiet day, we met up with a different herd in the late afternoon, which contained several adolescents.

Adolescent African Elephants playfighting, Masai Mara, Kenya

The rain set in again late in the afternoon, but just before it got dark, we found a female Leopard lounging in a tree, just five minutes from our camp. Returning the next morning in much better light, she was still in almost exactly the same position.

Leopard in a tree, Masai Mara, Kenya

More heavy rain in the afternoon and more opportunities with male Lions. I’m always looking for the moment they shake their wet manes, usually after the worst of the rain has passed and I like to vary the shutter speed to get different effects.

Male Lion shaking rain off wet mane, head shot, with motion, Masai Mara, Kenya

Male Lion shaking rain off wet mane, head shot, with motion, Masai Mara, Kenya

Early the next morning, I went to collect my nine guests who had arrived by private charter. Within thirty minutes of their arrival, we watched in awe as an Impala gave birth. The immediate period after the fawn’s birth is extremely hazardous as it is highly vulnerable to predation. However, after just five minutes of licking by its mother, the fawn was up, attempting its first steps. And while initially taking on the gait of a drunkard, it wasn’t long before it was skipping about confidently. This was a real treat, not just for the guests but also for me as this was the first time I had witnessed an Impala birth.

Impala giving birth, Masai Mara, Kenya

Adult female Impala with newly born fawn attempting its first steps, Masai Mara, Kenya

Over the next few days much of our focus was on the Lion prides.

Lioness with chin resting on the back of another Lioness, Masai Mara, Kenya

Two sub-adult male Lions investigating scent marks, Masai Mara, Kenya

We had a number of good sessions with two of the prides with much playfighting and interaction between the cubs and juvenile members.

Lion cubs playfighting, Masai Mara, Kenya

Lion cub in tree, Masai Mara, Kenya

Lioness climbing tree, head shot, Masai Mara, Kenya

Lion cubs playing, Masai Mara, Kenya

Every morning dawned clear which gave us abundant opportunities to shoot silhouettes and backlit images of birds and animals. First up, we have an adult male Impala…

Male Impala silhouetted at sunset, Masai Mara, Kenya

…followed by a Lilac Breasted Roller…

Lilac-Breasted Roller on perch, silhouetted against dawn sky, Masai Mara, Kenya

…and a male Kori Bustard displaying.

Male Kori Bustard displaying, backlit at sunise, Masai Mara, Kenya

Despite the relative lack of migrating herds, we did get to see a few large river crossings, and on two occasions were able to witness Lion kills on juvenile Wildebeest at the banks.

Wildebeest river crossing chaos, Mara River, Masai Mara, Kenya

Lioness carrying Wildebeest calf kill on the bank of the Mara River, Masai Mara, Kenya

We spent a good part of one afternoon watching a pair of African Jacanas foraging on a large pond of floating vegetation. Most birds and animals would simply plunge through the thin plant layer but the Jacanas have extraordinarily long claws and toes that provide the same sort of support in snow as a snow-shoe.

Adult African Jacana, showing long toes and claws, walking on floating vegetation, Masai Mara, Kenya

Adult African Jacana, showing long toes and claws, walking on floating vegetation, Masai Mara, Kenya

On our last morning we awoke to another clear day. On our way to the Lions, we stopped to take silhouette images of a pair of Ostriches. I was fortunate to be in the right place with the camera set up correctly when they broke into a sprint with one chasing the other. This image ended up being arguably my favorite from the whole trip.

Ostriches running, silhouetted against dawn sky, Masai Mara, Kenya

A little later we spent some time with a pair of sub-adult male Reedbucks, normally a shy species, but in this case, seemingly at ease with our vehicles.

Two sub-adult male Reedbucks with heads touching, backlit, Masai Mara, Kenya

All too quickly it was time to say farewell for another year to the Mara. It had been another fantastic trip and the group were great and for the most part, all happy campers. Despite the burgeoning tourist numbers which are becoming a very real problem in the Mara, especially at the river crossings, the fact is that there is nowhere in the world that has the density of game and associated predation that the Mara has. I will certainly be back and am already planning at least two return trips in 2012. I will likely have some room for a few guests, details for which I will announce within the next few weeks.

Wildencounters group photo, Masai Mara, Kenya

Selfishly leaving Paveena at home with Amaya, our 14 month old baby, I have recently completed an amazing, almost month long trip to the Antarctic and sub-Antarctic region. Travelling by ship with 80 other passengers including a number of legendary nature photographers, we spent three days in the Falkland Islands, a week in South Georgia, a day in the South Orkney Islands and a week on the western side of the Antarctica Peninsula.

My journey to Ushuaia in Tierra Del Fuego at the bottom of South America, the embarkation point for the trip, involved a 12 hour flight from Hong Kong to London, a six hour layover at Heathrow airport, a 14 hour flight to Buenos Aires and a three hour flight to Ushuaia, broken only by a brief overnight stay in Buenos Aires. To say that my body clock was in disarray by the time I reached Ushuaia would be an understatement!

After a surprisingly benign, 2.5 day ocean crossing, during which the ship was trailed by a constant stream of Cape Petrels, Southern Giant Petrels and Black-Browed Albatrosses, we arrived at the extreme western point of the Falklands Island.

Giant Southern Petrel flying, with motion, South Atlantic Ocean

Black-Browed Albatross sitting on mud sculpted nest, New Island, Falkland Islands

Black-Browed Albatross, head portrait, against distant blue South Atlantic Ocean, Falkland Islands

Imperial Shag breaking egg shell in its bill, portrait, New Island, Falkland Islands

Imperial Shag landing, carrying nesting material in bill, New Island, Falkland Islands

 Late in the afternoon, I made my way down to a nearby beach where we had good opportunities with male and female Kelp Geese, Upland Geese and Oyster Catchers.

Female Kelp Goose portrait, New Island, Falkland Islands

 The next morning we awoke to another day of bright sunshine at nearby West Point Island. Before breakfast, a number of Commerson Dolphins swam languidly around the ship for more than an hour. With the sea conditions surprisingly glassy, I wanted to capture both the Dolphin and the liquid mercury-like ripples on the sea surface.

Commerson's Dolphins, West Point Island, Falkland Islands

 A little later we made a zodiac landing on a nearby beach. To reach the island’s Black-Browed Albatross colony, nestled in the tussock grass and along the steep cliffs, involved a 30-40 minute uphill hike across windswept moorland. Weighed down by 600mm, 70-200mm and 16-36mm lenses, three camera bodies, a flash and various accessories stuffed into my antiquated 15-year old backpack (note to self: really must update), together with a heavy duty tripod and gimbal head, turned what should have been a pleasant excursion into a fairly arduous one. However, once on the cliffs, any discomfort faded quickly as we were greeted with spectacular views of the Albatrosses, intermixed with Rockhopper Penguins in the tall grass.

Black-Browed Albatross pair nesting on tussock grass overlooking cliffs and sea, West Point Island, Falkland Islands

After returning to the ship for lunch, we made a brief sail to Grave Cove on West Falkland Island, home to a rookery of over 6,000 Gentoo Penguins. By now the weather had returned to type – a howling gale accompanied by horizontal rain. After hiking across the peninsula, I settled down on a sodden beach as waves of Gentoo Penguins porpoised in through the crashing surf. With the rain beating down, many of my fellow travellers chose to leave their expensive camera equipment unpacked but to do so was to miss out on some truly spectacular action as these following images demonstrate. A large lens hood proved scant protection from the wind-blown rain and a shammy cloth proved an essential piece of equipment as it was necessary to wipe the lens constantly.

Gentoo Penguin exiting the surf at Grave Cove, West Point Island, Falkland Islands

Gentoo Penguin exiting the surf at Grave Cove, West Point Island, Falkland Islands

Gentoo Penguin exiting the surf at Grave Cove, West Point Island, Falkland Islands

As I trudged back to the ship in the cold rain knowing that a hot shower awaited me, I thought about the Gentoos, fully exposed to the elements and with no hope of shelter. But of course Penguins are ideally built for these conditions with the densest feather arrangement of any bird species – around 70 per square inch, to keep them warm. Indeed, a Penguin’s biggest problem is not the cold – but rather overheating. Heat can only escape from the bare areas on their feet, the base of their bills and from the underside of their flippers.

Usually when the weather turns for the worse in these latitudes, it is here to stay for a few days but surprisingly the next day dawned fine and bright as our ship pulled into the bay adjacent to the fabled “Neck” at Saunders Island. And what a tremendous day it turned out to be! The mile long stretch of golden sand on the other side of the neck plays host to large numbers of Gentoo, Rockhopper and Magellanic Penguins. A steep trek up the overlooking cliffs finds large numbers of Imperial Shags and Black-Browed Albatrosses. In the morning, I mainly concentrated on the Gentoo Penguins in and around the surf line.

Two Gentoo Penguins squabbling, Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

Gentoo Penguin exiting the surf on Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

Gentoo Penguins standing over seaweed at the surf line, squabbling, Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

Gentoo Penguin in the surf at Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

 At midday I laboured up the hill to an area at the very edge of the cliffs. From this vantage point, a constant stream of Imperial Shags flew by at close distance, many carrying nesting material in their bills. My 70-200mm lens was easily enough focal length while a little fill flash helped to bring out the shadows on the underside of the bird’s wings.

Imperial Shag in flight carrying nesting material, Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

In the afternoon I moved down to the far side of the beach to an area where numerous Rockhopper Penguins were active. I first followed them from the sea as they porpoised with great speed and agility in through the surf to the beach. Photographing this type of activity is extremely difficult as they travel with great speed underwater and usually in an erratic fashion meaning that you have to try and guess where they will surface. This is a fairly thankless task and the following image owes more to luck than anything else.

Rockhopper Penguins porpoising across the ocean surface, Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

Once in the shallows, I noticed that some of the Penguins would, initially upon standing, shake their wet feathers. I aligned myself into position so that I had the dark cliff face as my background. The following image is one of my favourites from the trip.

Rockhopper Penguin standing in shallow sea against dark cliff, shaking wet feathers, Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

 Rockhoppers moving in the other direction – from the cliffs down to the surf – would on occasion stop to bath vigorously in a beach side rock pool. 

Rockhopper Penguin splashing in tidal pool, Saunders Island, Falkland Islands

 As I was leaving the beach at the end of the day, I noticed a Striated Caracara feeding on a Gentoo Penguin carcass. Lying flat on the sand I was able to capture this moment just as the Caracara began to take flight. 

Striated Caracara with wings raised beside Gentoo Penguin carcass, Saunders Island, Falklands Islands

 From the Falklands, we headed south east into the normally storm ravaged seas of the “screaming 60’s”. However, our luck continued to hold and we again enjoyed very modest sea conditions during the nearly 3-day, 900 mile crossing to South Georgia.

Arriving at Right Whale Bay on the north end of South Georgia, we were greeted by cold, rainy, low visibility weather. Somehow this seemed fitting for this remotest of wildlife outposts. With the beach landing by zodiacs taking place at 5pm, this was a brief two hour excursion and helped give us our first proper viewings of large numbers of King Penguins (a handful were visible at Saunders Island in the Falkland Islands) as well as the truly ginormous male Elephant Seals. It also gave us our first brush with the hyper aggressive male Fur Seals. Our visit coincided with the breeding season and most of the beaches in South Georgia are populated with large numbers of male and female Fur Seals. Wide in girth after a winter of ocean feeding, the males are in a state of heightened aggression and that includes their behaviour towards human interlopers. By the time we had arrived, many of the males had established breeding territories which they defend with vigour against encroaching male Seals or humans of either sex. They maintain these territories in order to have exclusive breeding access to the females that settle in them. Males that do not hold territories seldom mate. However, holding onto a territory is difficult, with only the largest and fittest fighters accomplishing the task.

Even the seasoned South Georgia visitors among the tour leaders were surprised by the extent of the aggression displayed by the males on our landings. When one charged our Scottish geologist/naturalist from a good 30-40m away, he was unprepared for the speed and the uncompromising nature of the attack. Loud barking and rock banging had zero effect and the next moment he was on his back with a considerable set of canine like teeth impaled into his right knee.

Several stitches later and doused with antibiotics, he good humouredly admitted that the worst part of the whole incident was not the pain of the inflicted wound but the reeking, fish-infused breath of the Seal in his face.

From then on, it was pretty much mandatory that one always carried a tripod to help fend off attacks and that you never turned your back for too long lest you be surprised by a sneak assault.

The next morning we awoke offshore from one of South Georgia’s landmark bays – Salisbury Plain, home to thousands of King Penguins and hundreds of Elephant Seals. Although all visitor landings on South Georgia are on the more sheltered eastern side, “sheltered” needs to be used loosely as many of the bays are wide and open and in fact offer relatively little shelter. Some of the more open bays have beaches that emerge from deep water just a few meters offshore meaning that they are subject to wave conditions on all but the calmest of days. Today was not one of those calm days. Instead there were cloudy skies, intermittent heavy rain and a strong wind.

As we boarded our zodiac for the beach we were warned that landing conditions would be “difficult”. All looked to be going well but as the zodiac reached the shore and with the outboard engine switched to idling, the zodiac turned parallel to the beach, just in time for a wave to crash over the sides. Although I was wearing thigh high neoprene waders and waterproof trousers and jacket, some of the icy water managed to penetrate to my lower back, legs and feet.

And so I sloshed onto the beach, surrounded by King Penguins and aggressive Fur Seals. Because of the latter and because of the likelihood of an early departure due to mounting winds, it was decided to limit the area in which our party could venture. As it turned out, I never ventured more than about 30m from where we landed. While the Fur Seals were a major obstacle, there was also plenty going on in our immediate vicinity to keep me occupied and I mainly focused on the King Penguins entering and exiting the surf as well as close-up, abstract images of the King Penguins’ head, neck and breast colourations. 

King Penguins facing into the surf, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

Abstract patterns on the necks of King Penguins, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

King Penguin surfing ahead of breaking wave, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

King Penguin group, rear view, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

King Penguins on the shore, with motion, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

King Penguin in foamy surf, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

King Penguin head and neck, close-up, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia

Late in the morning, the wind suddenly began to strengthen. It quickly became clear that this was the onset of the famed katabatic winds. These are localised, hurricane force winds that blow down from South Georgia’s glaciers. Technically they are drainage winds – a wind that carries high density air from higher elevations down a slope under the force of gravity. In short, they are not to be taken lightly. Once they gain full strength, they can last for several hours making any sort of zodiac travel impossibly dangerous (i.e. the winds are of such force that they can easily flip a small boat).

Our excellent excursion leaders quickly rounded up everyone and had us all back on board our ship within 20 minutes, just before the full force of the winds began to take effect.With no let up during the afternoon, we were forced to sit it out in a nearby slightly more sheltered bay. However, late in the afternoon, while the winds remained unrelenting, the clouds parted and the effect of the wind-induced sea spray produced rainbows of varying intensity. As with all rainbow images, it is imperative to use a circular polarizer filter to bring out the true colours. 

Rainbow arcing down to the sea in front of snow-covered mountains, South Georgia

One of the things that you quickly learn in this part of the world is that the weather is incredibly changeable. And so after the sunshine of the previous afternoon, the following morning proved to be truly miserable with low cloud, heavy rain and wind. However, our chosen landing sight, Prion Island, was relatively sheltered, so zodiac landings were possible.

Prion Island contains a special protected area which is home to breeding Wandering Albatrosses, the largest of all the Albatross species. In previous years, the excursion to the Albatrosses has involved an arduous hike up a rocky stream. However, once there, it was possible to get quite close to the Albatrosses and take often dramatic wide-angle images of the birds against the ocean and distant snow covered mountains. Alas no more, as a wooden boardwalk has since been constructed and while this makes the walk to the birds much easier, the rules now state that all visitors must remain on the boardwalk.

All the birds that we encountered were some distance from the boardwalk, necessitating the use of our longest lenses. And with the pouring rain, it ended up being a visit hardly worth undertaking. Indeed to take the four images that I made that morning proved more troublesome than rewarding with my equipment receiving a thorough soaking. Fortunately today’s pro body cameras and lenses are incredibly resilient and emerged none the worse for wear.

The rain continued to fall throughout the afternoon and while there was a brief landing undertaken late in the afternoon, I elected to stay on board.

In typical South Georgia fashion, the next day dawned fine with the ship having made its way during the night to Fortuna Bay. We made our beach landing in surprisingly tranquil conditions to find decent numbers of King Penguins, Elephant Seals and the obligatory belligerent Fur Seals. However, for me the highlight was a small pool where a group of Elephant Seal youngsters were frolicking.

Elephant Seal pup, Fortuna Bay, South Georgia

 As midday approached, the wind again began to rise, signalling the onset of more katabatic winds. Again, there was a scramble by the expedition leaders to round up all the participants and get everyone back to the ship before the winds became unmanageable. This was duly achieved but not before the winds flipped one of the zodiacs, propelling the driver (fortunately there were no guests on board) into the icy waters where he endured an extremely uncomfortable few minutes before he was rescued.

 In the afternoon, we made our way to King Edward Cove. At the landward end are the remains of the old whaling station of Grytviken and on the seaward side are the buildings of the British Antarctic Survey research base. The visit gave us a chance to undertake some non-wildlife photography among the dilapidated and rusting remains of the old whale processing machinery.

 The first image shows the rusting hull of an ancient whaling ship with its harpoon gun clearly visible on the bow. To capture all the tonalities of the ship, sky, sea, mountains etc, I took five images at different exposures and blended them together using HDR software.

Rusting ancient whaling ship, Grytviken, South Georgia

Hidden away amongst to rusting whale blubber vats, I discovered a pile of rusting screws. I again took multiple images at different exposures with the aim of blending them together using HDR software. However, I found that the best results were obtained using a single image but applying Nik’s total contrast filter in Colour Efex Pro 3 (note that I have used version 3. The tonal contrast is actually superior in version 3 vs the newer version 4).   

Rusting screws, Grytviken, South Georgia

The area was not completely devoid of wildlife and as the sun began to set, I found a small group of King Penguins in a pond created by a glacier melt water. The light was fantastic – the only time on the whole trip that we had really sweet light with wildlife photographic opportunities – allowing me to focus on the beautiful colours of the Penguins’ heads and necks. The first image shows one of my favourite techniques, which is to juxtapose two animals of the same species against each other – typically one in focus, one out of focus. 

King Penguins, portrait, in late afternoon light against blue water, Grytviken, South Georgia

 At the exact moment that I pressed the shutter for the next image, a moment of serendipity occurred when one of my fellow passengers, wearing an orange jacket passed by opposite to where I was positioned. The reflection of his jacket on the deep blue water resulted in an orange tinge to the water which in my view really helps to make the image.

King Penguin preening in late afternoon light with blue and orange backgound coloured water, Grytviken, South Georgia

 November 18^th. Three words – oh my god. For years I had dreamed of visiting St.Andrews Bay, the undisputed wildlife Mecca of the sub-Antarctic region. I finally got my wish and with the weather gods on our side we were able to spend a full day at this truly remarkable site. As a wildlife spectacle, it has to be way, way up there with anything the entire natural world has to offer. From my own personal experience, it probably exceeded the Emperor Penguin rookery at Snow Hill in the Weddell Sea and I would say that only the Grouper aggregation and spawning in French Polynesia that I have witnessed in two of the last three years betters it.

St.Andrews Bay is the largest King Penguin rookery in South Georgia. There are 60,000 pairs of birds and when the “woolly” chicks are included, the total number of birds rises to 160,000, although at any one time some of course will be at sea. The shore line is thick with Elephant Seals which blanket the beach in such dense numbers as to make passage through them difficult.

Chick rearing for the King Penguins takes longer than for any other Penguin species with about 14 months between egg-laying and the chick becoming independent. As a result a breeding pair can raise a maximum of two chicks in three years. This unusual cycle means that, unlike other Penguins, a colony of Kings is not synchronised in its breeding. Hence on our visit, there were some Penguins incubating, some brooding small chicks and others with very large chicks nearing fledging.

As a photographer, it is very easy to be overwhelmed by St. Andrews Bay. While common sense dictates that the best images will come from slowing down and remaining for long periods in a few chosen spots, the temptation to rush around and try to capture as much as possible of the Bay’s broad expanse is almost impossible to resist unless one has visited the site a number of times before or one can somehow remain extremely disciplined.

Not me I’m afraid, so off I charged. And charge and charge I did for the next ten hours. I covered a lot of ground when in hindsight I would have been better off just remaining in 3-4 places. I took a lot of slow shutter speed images but even with the camera fully locked up, the lens hood removed, mirror lock activated, and IS turned off, the strength of the wind made it extremely difficult to avoid camera shake, resulting in nearly all the images going straight to delete. I made many other mistakes. I missed many opportunities. But I still made out OK and I will surely do much better when I next return. 

Wide-angle view of St Andrews Bay, South Georgia showing thousands of King Penguins and chicks

Thousands of King Penguins and chicks on St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

King Penguins and chicks gathered along the banks of a glacier melt river, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

King Penguin adults and chicks, grouped tightly together, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

Elephant Seal in front of King Penguin colony with glacier and snow-covered mountians in the background, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

King Penguins and chicks grouped along the edge of a glacier melt river, with motion, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

Three King Penguins share a moment of contemplation, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

Two King Penguins standing against a backdrop of snow covered mountains, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

King Penguin with raised head against backdrop of snow covered mountains, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

Two Elephant Seal females lying side by side, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

 

 

Two Elephant Seal females play fighting, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

  

King Penguin pair overlooking colony, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

King Penguin pair overlooking river and colony, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

 

King Penguin reflection, St Andrews Bay, South Georgia

 The next morning dawned fine as we found ourselves in Royal Bay, a four mile wide, five mile deep bay. At the head of the bay lies the spectacular Ross Glacier. We were able to take zodiac rides to photograph the glacier and the Salvesen and Allardyce mountain ranges which ring the bay. 

Glacier, mountains, lenticular clouds, Royal Bay, South Georgia

During lunch we continued our journey south down the east coast of the island, pulling into Cooper Bay in the afternoon. Here we again undertook zodiac excursions, this time to photograph a colony of Macaroni Penguins. During the cruise, a Leopard Seal appeared regularly in close proximity to the zodiacs. A few of the zodiacs had the good fortune of seeing this apex Antarctic predator with a recent Penguin kill in its jaws.

Our final day in South Georgia saw us pull into the picturesque Drygalski Fjord at the south-eastern end of South Georgia, flanked by the jagged peaks of the Salvesen Range. The plan had been to explore the Fjord by ship and possibly undertake some zodiac cruises but the latter activity was quickly ruled out as a new round of katabatic winds descended on the fjord. I have lived through some pretty powerful typhoons in Hong Kong over the last 40 years but I can honestly say that these winds matched or even exceeded the most powerful winds that I have experienced via cyclonic activity. In fact it was not surprising when an announcement was made over the ship’s intercom system that no-one was to venture outside onto the outer decks under any circumstances due to the genuine risk of being blown overboard. The following image was taken from the ship’s bridge. 

The Drygalsky Fjord, South Georgia, being subjected to hurricane force winds as seen from the bridge of the passenger ship, Ushuaiha

By early evening the winds had dropped a little, allowing some of us to tentatively venture out onto the few sheltered areas of the decks. By now the skies had largely cleared and as the sun set, spectacular pink and orange clouds floated atop the mountain peaks. A little later, beautiful lenticular clouds formed on the other side of the fjord.

Sunset over the snow covered mountains lining the Drygalski Fjord, South Georgia

 

Sunset with lenticular clouds over the entrance of the Drygalski Fjord, South Georgia

 At midnight, we set sail for the South Orkney Islands, en route to the Antarctic Peninsula.  Again, we enjoyed good fortune with the weather during the two day crossing of the Scotia Sea. The ship continued to be trailed by a variety of sea birds. This image shows an Antarctic petrel gliding among the wave crest spray. Unlike Albatrosses and the larger Petrel species, the smaller Petrels fly in extremely erratic patterns making them a challenge to photograph. 

Antarctic Petrel flying above the spume from a breaking wave, Scotia Sea

On the afternoon of the second day we began to see our first icebergs. The South Orkneys lie in the path of the Weddell Sea gyre which sweeps vast quantities of ice past the islands into the Southern Ocean. It is hard not to be moved by the beauty of the icebergs, ice floes, ice sheets and ice shelves. I know that I could spend all day photographing them. Icebergs in particular are so incredibly diverse in size, shape and colour that I never get tired of them.

The South Orkneys are home to some of the continent’s most impressive icebergs, with the added attraction that many play host to Chinstrap, Adelie and Gentoo Penguins. The aim this afternoon was for the ship to cruise by some of these icebergs, reducing speed if necessary, in order for us to photograph them. 

Chinstrap Penguins on sloping iceberg face with Cape Petrels in the sky, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

 

Chinstrap and Adelie Penguin standing on near vertical iceberg face, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

 

Chinstrap Penguins standing on near vertical iceberg face, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

 

Cape Petrel flying past iceberg, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

 

Snow Petrel flying between iceberg gap, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

You will note that sometimes the icebergs have distinct patches of blue/turquoise coloured ice. Ice itself is actually blue but it will seldom look that way unless you are looking at a large piece of glacier ice. Our eyes are not particularly sensitive and we need a large chunk of ice to reflect back enough blue light for us to recognise it as blue. Glacial ice is usually big enough. Small pieces of ice are not. Some large icebergs look white and that is because we are seeing more than just ice; we are also seeing air bubbles. When light shines through ice that has a lot of air in it, the ice reflects back all the colours of the spectrum which we perceive as white. In the presence of a lot of ice reflecting its true blue and a little bit of air reflecting its true white, the white prevails. The bluest ice often comes from the bottom of the glacier because that is where the oldest ice sits. The older the ice, the greater the pressure and the fewer the air bubbles.

The next morning we arrived at the north end of Antarctic Peninsula. Turning south east, we sailed through the Antarctic sound.  Ice build-up prevented our scheduled shore landings but it was still a thrill to cruise through the myriad of often epic proportioned icebergs. In the early afternoon, we were able to sail through a large area of pancake ice. Later, we had a chance for some zodiac cruising among the icebergs. When we chanced upon a small but deep blue ice hole at the bottom of one of the icebergs, nature photographic luminary, Joe Macdonald, who was guiding our zodiac, mentioned that he wished he had a fish-eye lens. I had totally forgotten that I was carrying one, buried within an inside pocket of my thick, down jacket. Attaching it to my camera, I lowered the camera and lens into the hole and shooting blindly (the hole was almost at the water’s edge), I fired off several images. After downloading, I was delighted with this uncropped image. I had no idea there was an opening at the other end; or that the opening would reveal both blue sky and white ice. 

Blue ice hole, Antarctic Peninsula

The following day saw us anchored next to the tell-tale conical shape of volcanic Paulet Island in the northern Weddell Sea. However, the island’s geology are of minor interest to visitors when the scale of the enormous Adelie Penguin rookery is appreciated with more than 100,000 pairs nesting here. 

Adelie Penguin carrying rock, Paulet Island, Antarctica

 

Adelie Penguin tobogganing along snow slope, with motion, Paulet Island, Weddell Sea, Antractica

In the afternoon we headed to Brown Bluff, our first landing on continental Antarctic itself. Here against dramatic, 800m high, lichen-covered cliffs, we were able to photograph Gentoo and Adelie Penguins making their way onto the beach with many pausing to stop on the ice floes that lay just offshore. I also took this interesting image of a Kelp Gull peering out from behind a rock with the attractively coloured cliffs forming the blurred background.  Kelp Gulls are one of the most widespread gulls worldwide but are the only species of gull that occur in Antarctica. Common they maybe, but it’s hard to ignore the beautiful colouration on their bills and I for one never tire of photographing them. 

Adelie Penguins jumping off ice into water, Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula

 

Kelp Gull, Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula

In the evening, after the sun had set and the sky had taken on a slight pink hue, I spent more than an hour in the bitter cold on deck photographing the numerous icebergs that the ship passed as we sailed towards our next destination. While concentrating on the patterns on one of the icebergs, I was fortunate when this Kelp Gull came into land.

Kelp Gull with raised wings on iceberg, Antarctic Sound, Antarctica

Overnight we left the Antarctic Sound and travelled south from the Bransfield Strait into Croker Passage and the Gerlache Strait. Our morning destination was Hydrurga Rocks, a small island group with a Chinstrap Penguin colony. Landing on the narrow beach under a leaden sky, we encountered deep snow drifts which restricted our movements to a relatively small area. In the end I settled down in one spot where Chinstrap Penguins were periodically traversing a snow covered slope. From the same vantage point I was able to capture this image of two Kelp Gulls, nicely offset by the sloping snow field in the background.

Kelp Gulls at Hydrurga Rocks, Antarctica

 As I photographed, I was regularly surrounded by one or two Snowy Sheathbills. Shy is not a word associated with these birds, whose rapid movements on foot are reminiscent of Pigeons, and they regularly approached within a few feet of me. They are a pretty bird as this portrait indicates.

Snowy Sheathbill portrait, Hydrurga Rocks, Antarctica

In the afternoon we undertook a landing on the northern shore of dome-shaped Cuverville Island which supports a large colony of Gentoo Penguins. Our zodiacs had to negotiate through a thick covering of brash and growler ice (the latter being the name for ice less than 1m in height). My first thought on landing was to wade into this ice (up to my upper thighs) to take some images of the ice in the foreground and the Penguin colony and snow covered mountains in the background. Like so many icescapes where the colours are already largely monochromatic, such images typically work better in a black & white format. 

Sea ice and Gentoo Penguin colony, Cuverville Island, Antarctica

October and November is the mating season for Adelie, Gentoo and Chinstrap Penguins, and I was again lucky to be in the right place for this copulating pair of Gentoos. This was very much a “grab” shot as I literally saw something out of the corner of my eye, swung the camera around and fired off several shots without changing any settings. The whole event lasted no more than ten seconds. In the flat, unchanging light, having the camera set up in manual exposure and already set up for the whites of the Penguin, ensured pretty much a perfect exposure – i.e. the whites pushed well into the fifth box on the right of the histogram. I find myself working in manual more and more although for all those that think that manual mode is the answer for all situations – it is not (don’t get me started on this one).

Mating Gentoo Penguins, Cuverville Island, Antarctica

Our journey continued south with the ship reaching the entrance of the famed, Lemaire Channel by mid-morning the next day. This narrow channel is seven miles long running along a fault line between precipitous peaks rising 3,000ft from the water’s edge. On one side lies the Antarctic continent, on the other, Booth Island. Although we were able to traverse some of the way down the channel, we found our passage ultimately blocked by pack ice, forcing us to turn around. Still, the spectacular peaks begged to be photographed, captured again in black & white.

Una’s Peaks, False Cape Renard, northern entrance of Lemaire Channel, Antarctica

 

Wandel Peak, Booth Island, Lamaire Channel, Antarctica

 The Lemaire channel proved to be the southernmost point of our expedition and we now headed in a northerly direction towards our next destination, Paradise Harbour. With a name like Paradise, a place has to be really spectacular to meet expectations. Paradise Harbour manages this feat even on a cloudy day. When the sun is shining, as it was upon our arrival, it is absolutely gorgeous.

Lying between the Antarctic mainland and Bryde and Lemaire Islands, the bay was named by early twentieth-century whalers who were not immune to its charms. Whales continue to visit and we managed several fleeting glimpses of both Minke and Orca Whales.

Landing at a spot occupied by an abandoned Argentinian research station, I quickly made my way up a nearby hill. The upper reaches of this hill felt more like the summit ridge of a major Himalayan peak as I broke trail with deep snow and overhanging cornices on both sides. Bathed in sweat, I finally reached the “summit” to be greeted by breathtaking views of the bay. Both of the following images are hand-held, five-frame stitched panoramas captured at 35mm. 

Panoramic view of Paradise Bay, Antarctica

 

Panoramic view of Paradise Bay, Antarctica

 Later I was able to take a zodiac cruise around the bay with just one other person. It really is an amazing experience to get right up close to the icebergs. The use of either polarised sunglasses or a circular polariser attached to one’s camera lens makes it possible to see the extent to which the icebergs extend beneath the surface as well as the astonishing clarity of the turquoise colours.

Iceberg, Paradise Bay, Antarctica

 

Iceberg and reflections, Paradise Bay, Antarctica

 We also came across an incredible small black/grey iceberg with out-of-this-world, golf ball like patterns. This image shows these patterns underneath the water.

Grey ice patterns below the sea surface, Paradise Bay, Antarctica

This next image is a bit more “artsy”. The base image comprises the reflections of a lichen covered cliff face in the water. Post processing, the saturation, contrast and structure have been pumped up to produce this Monet like image.

Moss and lichen covered cliff reflections, Paradise Bay, Antarctica

In the evening as we sailed out of the bay, bathed in soft, yellowish light, I spent a good hour alone at the very front of the ship making images of the brash ice in the now dark waters in the foreground and the snowy mountains in the distance.

Brush ice and snow-covered-mountains at the entrance to Paradise Bay, Antarctica

We were now beginning our journey home. Sailing north overnight, we had time for one more landing, this time at Half Moon Island in the South Shetland Islands. This picturesque spot is home to a colony of Chinstrap Penguins as well as breeding Kelp Gulls and Antarctic Terns. I spent most of the morning in two locations, primarily photographing the Chinstrap Penguins as they laboured up a snow covered slope towards their rookery after returning from fishing trips out at sea. The main attraction for me was to include the beautiful lichen and moss-covered cliffs in the images. 

Chinstrap Penguin walking up snow slope against lichen covered cliff face, Half Moon Island, South Shetland Islands

 

Chinstrap Penguin walking up snow slope with lichen covered cliff face at front, Half Moon Island, South Shetland Islands

I also spent time photographing the Kelp Gulls (now something of an addition) as well as these squabbling Antarctic Terns.

Kelp Gull standing on snow, Half Moon Island, South Shetland Islands

 

Antarctic Terns in flight facing each other, Half Moon Island, South Shetland Islands

And so we bade a sad farewell to the land of snow and ice and its treasure trove of wildlife. As on all my trips, I kept no journal or diary (perhaps I should) but find that I can relive and recall the various locations and experiences that I enjoyed through the images that I make. We had hoped for one more landing but our trusty captain, eager to beat an impending storm had us depart for the notorious Drake Passage, slightly earlier than scheduled. For the first 24 hours sea conditions remained reasonable but then deteriorated steadily as we felt the full force of the oncoming storm. In the 9m swells, waves crashed over the ship’s bow with the spray lashing the bridge and the ship pitched and rolled violently at times.

Ship bow in storm, Drake Passage

Fortunately the captain’s foresight spared us a prolonged battering and within 12 hours we had reached the shelter of the Beagle Channel from where we made our way the next morning to the port of Ushuaia.

All in all it had been an amazing expedition, but one which has again whetted my appetite for more. Already I have plans to return, this time with a focus on the Falkland Islands and South Georgia which for me were the two highlights of the trip. A big word of thanks should go the expedition leaders, many of whom are nature photographers of international repute but who always put the considerations of the passengers before theirs and more often than not sacrificed their own image taking to tend to the needs of the expeditioners. Lastly, I would like to extend a big greeting to my new Mexican and Spanish friends from the trip, many of whom are highly talented photographers. On this note, I would like to mention a young Spanish photographer and videographer, writer and conservationist, Jaime Rojo. Not only did his images from the trip outshine those of his fellow passengers, but he also eclipsed those from the seasoned professionals on board. Remember his name as you will surely be hearing more from him in the future.      

Well, the unfortunate news was that I knew within the first 30 seconds of my first dive that I was going to be out of luck. There were a few groupers milling around but nothing like the thousands that I had encountered in previous years. I had arrived one month too early.

A big disappointment but by no means a disaster as ordinarily the diving can be quite spectacular. It was also a chance to experiment with some different camera techniques.

The area in French Polynesia that I visited plays host to prodigious numbers of sharks, mainly of the Grey Reef species. There are now very few places left on our planet where one can see sharks gather together in these kinds of numbers because of severe overfishing to meet demand for shark fin soup demand in East Asia.

Large numbers of Grey Reef Sharks swimming over sand and coral sea bed

Grey Reef Sharks swimming in mid-water

Grey reef sharks

I was also fortunate to have a close sighting of this Spotted Eagle Ray on one of the Shark dives.

Spotted Eagle Ray

One evening I had a chance encounter with a rarer shark species. I was snorkeling at dusk beside the pier at the guest house where I was staying. The light was fading and from beneath the surface I could see the sparkling contours of the sun as it dipped towards the horizon. I was beginning to get cold and my thoughts were wandering to the hot shower back in my room, when I had a sixth sense feeling that I was not alone in the water. Turning around, a  6ft Bignose or Blacktip Shark was no more than two feet from my fins. Not even bothering to put the camera to my face mask, I pressed off two shots just as the shark kicked away with a powerful thrust of its tail fin.

Black Tip Shark

The story behind this image is probably more interesting than the image itself and I have to say, I now have many decent portrait style images of sharks. Frankly however, I really need to be a little more imaginative in how I photograph them. For me this next image is much more appealing than the first three. Taken with a 14mm lens (non-fish eye) it shows how near the shark’s world is to our own terrestrial existence, but also how different it is.

Over-under-image of two Black Tip Reef Sharks swimming at the edge of a coral reef drop off

Close to where this image was taken, there is a shallow-water, hard coral reef over which a multitude of marine creatures pass. These include a large, resident school of Yellowstripe Goatfish…

Schooling Yellowstriped Goatfish swimming over coral reef

…and a number of friendly but increasingly endangered Napoleon Wrasse.

Napoleon Wrasse swimming over shallow water coral reef

The shallow coral reef was beautifully reflected on the underside of the lagoon sea surface during the middle of the day when the sun was out and high in the sky.

Shallow coral reef reflected off the underside of the sea surface

It also provided a backdrop of liquid golds and greens against which the fish life swam including these Needlefish.

Needle Fish swimming in shallow-water with reef bottom reflections on the underside of the sea surface

At the pass into the lagoon that I mainly dived on, it was only possible to dive twice a day owing to the direction of the currents. On several afternoons I visited a nearby deserted white sand, coconut palm-lined beach. Around the corner from this beach is a shallow-water, quasi-pass of around 100m in width which separates the next low lying atoll. I was shocked on my first day to find the entire sand and stone bottom to be covered with Sea Cucumbers. As far as I could see, these fleshy invertebrates covered the sea bottom at a depth of no more than 2-3 feet. I do not have the marine biology knowledge to know exactly what was going on here and it is possible that they were being harvested by local fishermen in a natural setting but I did not see any evidence of this over the course of 4-5 days.

Sea Cucumber aggregation

What was especially interesting is that the aggregation peaked on the day of, and the day after, the full moon, after which numbers dropped appreciably. Could it be that they had aggregated for the purpose of spawning just as the case of the Groupers? More digging needs to be done to unravel this mystery.

I spent several hours in the turquoise shallows of the lagoon by the beach, just pottering around with my camera housing in which I had inserted a 15mm fish eye lens behind a glass dome port. Aside from shooting over/under images of the beach, the Coconut palms and the sandy bottom, I also took over a hundred images of the Coconut Palms from just beneath the water’s surface. The trick here is to lie down in the shallows in no more than a foot or so water with your arms extended and hands holding the housing with the lens and dome pointed upwards but at a very slight angle away from you (this will avoid your wrists showing up in the image). The result is a series of arresting images which at first glance look as if they have been concocted by the use of some photoshop hocus pocus. Nothing could be further from the truth. They are solely the result of a little imagination and experimentation.

Fish-eye view of coconut palms, shot from underwater

Fish-eye view of coconut palms, shot from underwater

Fish-eye view of coconut palms, shot from underwater

Fish-eye view of floating leaf and coconut palms shot from below the sea surface

Coconut floating in shallow lagoon with coconut palms in the background (shot from underwater)

 I have already booked a return trip for 2012 and this time there should be no confusion with the timing of the Grouper aggregation. I have deliberately concealed the exact location of this wonderous event as any publicity could attract the attention of large scale commercial fishing operations. It would only take one or two long-line fishing boats, to quickly devastate the shark and Grouper population. Fingers crossed that this will never happen.

Receeding waves passing over rocks (with motion)

Papua New Guinea stamp

Papua New Guinea stamp - First day cover

 I have slowly been getting through my Midway images. I know, it is now nearly three months since I was there! There is no particular theme or linkage between the following images but the first two have a moody feel to them.

As you will know by now, I love to show animals in the context of their environment so here are two such images. The first shows a Laysan Albatross silhouetted in flight against an orange coloured sunset sky with swirling dark clouds on the top and bottom of the frame.

Laysan Albatross silhouetted in flight against orange hued, sunset sky and dark swirling clouds

The second shows tree branches that had become embedded in the sand on the beach of the main island – probably during the tsunami that washed over large parts of Midway on March 12 (more on this in an upcoming blog), a month before I visited. To take this image, I placed a camera with a wide-angled lens in the sand, close to the branches. I attached a cable release to the camera and an angle finder to the view finder. I then waited for an Albatross to fly into the frame. In this particular image, a slightly blurry, Red-Tailed Tropic bird can also be seen. You will also notice that the clouds on the right hand side of the image have a distinct green cast. This has nothing to do with poor image processing. Rather it is the result of the aqua-emerald green (I think I’ve just invented a new colour) lagoon water reflecting onto the clouds.

Adult Laysan Albatross touching bills with its chick, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

Adult laysan Albatross feeding its chick with regurgitated squid, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

Moving away from Midway, I have spent a bit of time playing around with montages, ie blending images together using various blending modes and then running the images through one or more of the filters found in Nik’s Colour Efex Pro. The following is my favourite to date. This is a blend of two images. The first, a blue coloured wall shot in Valparaiso, Chile and the second, a group of three Andean Flamingos feeding on Lake Chaxa in Northern Chile. With apologies to Artie Morris, I guess you can call this birds as art or in this case, Flamingos as art.

Flamingos as art

This has certainly been my own experience when I visit a new destination. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you really have to go back to a destination several times before you start getting different, more memorable images. When I am returning to a formerly visited destination, I try to think about the images I have taken at this location previously. I also try to look at images that other photographers have taken at the same location. I try to think about how I can take different types of images than those that are already in the market and how I can improve on my own existing images. Importantly, I try to pre-visualise different types of images. For instance, if I’ve photographed a species or a particular type of animal behavior extensively with say a telephoto lens, I try to think how I could photograph it differently. Could I photograph it from a different angle or with different lighting conditions or with a different lens? I try to force myself to think out of the box and the further I can go out of the box, the better. I really believe that pre-visualising the type of images one wants to take before actually going out to try and get them is a key method in attempting to improve one’s photography.

I have been to Midway Atoll four times already so this was my fifth trip. Although my first trip back in 2001 held the greatest number of photographic opportunities, these were the days of film and I was really just starting out photographic wise. My technical skills were at best rudimentary. This was a shame because I blew some incredible opportunities over several days of an adult White Tern feeding its chick with fish due to poor exposure technique.

On subsequent visits in the digital era I have built up a decent collection of images of the amazing birds of the atoll. On my last two visits I had become quite fixated with taking images in the early morning of Laysan Albatrosses running down the beach in order to take flight. Although among the smaller of the Albatross species, a Laysan Albatross can weigh seven pounds and have a wing span of over six feet. Unlike most birds, they cannot take flight from a standing position and instead must run for varying distances while vigorously beating their wings in order to build up sufficient momentum to become airborne. The distance that they need to run is largely a function of the strength of the headwind that they run into.

On previous visits I had taken lots of pleasing images from a distance using intermediate telephoto lenses of the birds running to take flight. I had lain on the ground to literally get a bird’s eye view of the onrushing Albatrosses and I had varied my shutter speed to make some arresting images of birds with blurred beating wings and sharp heads.

Prior to this visit, I thought about how I might photograph this behavior differently. Having used manually activated, wireless triggers to photograph large mammals up-close in East Africa using concealed, ground positioned cameras with wide-angle lenses, I wondered if I might be able to do the same with the running Albatrosses. No harm in trying I thought (like they say, if you don’t enter the lottery you won’t win the prize).

My basic thinking was this. Figure out a route that the birds were running down on a regular basis and partially bury two, zip lock covered, wireless triggered, cameras with wide-angled lenses in the sand on the route over which the birds were passing. I used rubber bands to securely fasten the opening of each bag around the lens in order to ensure that as little sand as possible would get into the bags. I cut a small hole in each bag around the viewfinder of each camera so that I could position an angle finder to the viewfinder in order to properly compose and angle each camera. Once done, I removed the angle finder and replaced it with a small spirit leveler in order to make micro adjustments to each camera’s positioning so that the horizon would not be too off kilter.

So far so good. In my first set up early one morning at the beginning of the trip, I used a 1D MK IV camera with a 15mm fish eye lens (remember this camera has a 1.3x crop factor) and a full frame 5D MK 2 camera with a 16-35mm zoom lens attached set to 16mm.  I needed to preset all controls in advance. Firstly, I set the focus to manual (3ft). Knowing that I would need a very fast shutter speed I selected an ISO of 800. With light levels changing I opted to work in AV mode, dialing in +1 and 1/3 stop of +ve exposure compensation to an f.8 aperture – I figured with the birds so close to the lens that I would need some reasonable depth of field. This level of exposure compensation was a tricky choice as I was faced with broken cloud conditions and while the sun had yet to come up, it would do so in about 20 minutes. If there was full sun, I knew this would be too much +ve compensation but I figured I could accept a little over exposure.

So what happened? Firstly, the wind direction was coming from the North West meaning that the birds were running roughly parallel to the light. Not ideal. Secondly, once the sun rose, it kept ducking in and out of the clouds making for wildly different exposure conditions. Thirdly, my shutter speed never got over 1/2,000 sec – insufficient to freeze the movement of a fast moving bird so close to the lens. Fourth, neither a 15mm fish eye lens on a cropped sensor camera nor a zoom lens set to 16mm on a full frame camera was sufficiently wide to avoid clipping the wings on an Albatross 1-4 ft from the camera with its wings fully extended. Fifth, the wireless triggers were such that realistically I could only get off two frames on the MK IV body and one frame on the slower 5D MK II body as each bird ran towards the camera. Lastly and most frustratingly, although the birds pretty much ignored the partially buried cameras, they maddeningly chose different routes to take flight on all but about 10-15 occasions.

So after day one I had lots of badly exposed, unsharp, clipped wing images and zero keepers. But in one or two images I could see the potential. If I could refine my set up I knew that there was the potential to get some truly different images.

Over the next few days I gradually improved. Importantly, I switched to the use of two full frame MK 5D MK II bodies mounted with 15mm fish-eye lenses (a big thanks to tour leader Joe for the loan of one these lenses). This would optimise the chances of getting the whole of the bird with extended wings in the frame even though I knew that I would have only one frame per pass. Most importantly, I found a narrow path set between native Nalpaka bushes higher up the beach down which a steady throng of birds would take flight in the late afternoon. While I knew that I would be working with a less than ideal angled sun direction (and with the fish-eye lenses would likely include all or part of the sun in many images), light levels were much better than early in the morning. On two afternoons I had largely bright sun conditions with only a few scattered clouds so I did not have to worry too much about fluctuating light conditions and with the 5D MK 2′s reasonably low noise levels I felt comfortable pushing the ISO up to 2,500 in order to attain shutter speeds of at least 1/5,000 sec.

Off course from my hidden position behind the Nalpaka bushes, as I watched the birds run down the runway and over my cameras, there was still the small matter of pushing the wireless triggers at exactly the right moment to fully capture the birds in the frame. I ended up with many, many frames containing bits of Albatrosses although some of these are actually quite cool as shown below and could even potentially do well in photo contests.

Laysan Albatross running to take flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

Laysan Albatross taking flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

But by persevering I ended up with about 12-15 sharp images of unclipped Albatrosses in action poses as they charged  or flew towards/over my cameras. There is still room for improvement and it would be great to have full frontal lighting and less vegetation on the sides and in the background (next year’s wish list) but overall I am reasonably happy with what I came away with.

Laysan Albatross running to take flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

Laysan Albatross taking flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

Laysan Albatross running to take flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

Laysan Albatross taking flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

 This second last image is probably my favorite – reaching for the sun might be an apt title.

Laysan Albatross running to take flight, close-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

 Finally, this serendentipitous image was taken the split second that an Albatross, having flown in from the right, landed right in front of the camera and kicking up sand over the lens in the process. 

Laysan Albatross kicking up sand as it lands, cloe-focus, fish-eye, Sand Island, Midway Atoll, USA

From our initial base at the town of San Pedro in north east Chile, we were in striking distance of the area’s most spectacular sights. Nearest is the surreal landscape of the Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon). Aptly named because of its resemblance to a lunar landscape, this is a valley of barren ridges, soaring cliffs and pale valleys. Originally a small corner of a vast inland sea, the valley rose up with the Andes and the water drained slowly away leaving deposits of salt,  gypsum and clay without a hint of organic life.

Valle de la Luna, NE Chile

In places there are sand dunes, clay and gypsum hills with the Andean peaks in the background. I am always looking for bands of colour in landscape photography. With a careful eye, it was possible to find an abundance of compositions that met this criteria.

Sand dunes, gypsum and clay hills and distant Andean mountains, Valle de la Luna

I was also keen to create compositions that included the conical, snow-capped volcanic peak of Licancabur.

Clay hills set against the snow-capped vlocanic peak of Licancabur

 Shortly after the sun set, the sky turned a beautiful pastel yellow and the landscape visibly glowed.

Clay & gypsum cliff face set against the barren floor of the Altiplano, Valle de la Luna, NE Chile

Late in the afternoon on our second day we visited an area of the Salar de Atacama. Within the salt flats there are a number of lakes (Leguna Cejar) and geothermal hot springs in which it is possible to bathe. However, like so much of the area, the towering presence of Lincancabur along with its slightly smaller neighbour, Juriques, loom over the landscape. The areas around the lakes are also home to rare stretches of vegetation in the form of tall grasses. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, the sky turned pink and a cold wind blew through the sunset coloured grass. The following image was created using a shutter speed of  three seconds and  five stops of graduated neutral density to balance the foreground light with the sky.

Sunset tinged, windblown grasses with the vlocanic peaks of Lincancabur and Juriques in the background

 After three days of getting used to the 8,000 ft altitude at San Pedro, we made a 4.30am start to drive up to 14,000 ft to the Geysers Del Tatio, the world’s highest geothermal field and a breathtaking natural phenomenon. When the the air is still cold (-ve centigrade) in the early morning the geysers throw columns of steam high into the air. While the sight of the dawn sun rays piercing the steam jets is spectacular, I was more drawn to the lichen covered volcanic rocks and the frost covered vegetation that dot the edges of the sulphur-stained geyser field.

Lichen covered volcanic rock, frost covered grasses and gyser steam, Geysers Del Tatio, NE Chile

As the sun was rising, I dashed around looking for compositions, at times even running. In hindsight, this was not a particularly bright idea at this altitude. Not that later, as our minibus left the area, I began to develop a severe headache accompanied by nausea. The two hour journey back to San Pedro was not enjoyable for me as I constantly had to fight the urge to throw up. Fortunately we were descending. After a few hours back at San Pedro and helped by a liberal dosage of Diamox (altitude sickness medicine), I felt much better. I continued to take Diamox for the duration of the trip and never felt any ill effects again, even when we were up at 16,500 ft in Bolivia.

On our fifth day, we ascended east to the high Altiplano, where we crossed into Bolivia. Here the landscape became even more stark but at the same time, a vista of breathtaking beauty seemed to lie around every corner. This is Lincancabur and Juriques from the Bolivian side. Compared to the abundant snow cover on the Chilean side, note the relatively light cover on the drier Bolivian side.

Volcanic rocks, grass tufts and the volcanic peaks of Lincancabur and Juriques, SW Bolivia

Driving north along the Altiplano valley, many of the mountain slopes were covered in rock and soil containing iron ore deposits resulting in distinctive red and orange hues. This is a six frame stitched panoramic image showing this feature.

Reddish, orange tinged mountain slopes (from iron ore deposits), SW Bolivia

 I have noted the lack of vegetation and certainly green vegetation on the Altiplano. But there is one exception; a large, hard, moss like plant known simply as Rock Plant.

Rock Plant growing on volcanic rock with snow-capped mountains in the background, SW Bolivia

 Despite the seemingly inhospitable environment, there is non-avian wildlife on the Altiplano. Vicunas and Guanacos, both of which resemble Llamas are regularly sighted although rarely at close distance. And as we made our through a particularly remote area, we found this inquisitive Andean Fox. With the harsh light and the spectacular backdrop, I chose to use a wide-angle lens to capture this image.

Inquisitive Andean Fox walking in the high altiplano of SW Bolivia

Later in the day as we approached the small town of San Juan, the exclusively barren landscape gave way to the occasional irrigated field of spectacularly coloured quinoa – a vegetable (often mistakenly referred to as a grain) which is rich in protein and minerals and which is becoming increasingly popular among western consumers. Most of the fields contained three varieties of quinoa which bloom in dazzling shades of red, yellow and green. I took many images but the light was less than ideal and I was not really satisfied with any. Photoshop to the rescue. The following image has had a water colour filter run over it (in the “distort” menu under “filters). This has then been taken into Nik’s Colour Efex Pro software where more processing has taken place. The result is a transformation from a rather ordinary photograph to a painting that bears a resemblance to the canvasses of some of the old masters.

Artistic depiction of a quinoa field outside San Juan, SW Bolivia

After a night in San Juan, we had the chance the next morning to photograph two female Llama herders at work. I’m not sure what they are laughing at in the first image - my guess is that with a bunch of photographers snapping away, she probably felt for the first time in her life like a movie star being pursued by the paparazzi.

Female Bolivian Llama herders share a joke, San Juan, SW Bolivia

Both of the women were extremely photogenic with wonderful weather beaten faces.

Female Llama herder, San Juan, SW Bolivia

Later, the Llamas were let out of their pens and herded to a nearby water hole.

Llama herding near San Juan, SW Bolivia

As the Llamas made their way back to their pen, one of them paused by the water hole with the two herders. With the snow-capped mountain in the background and the reflections on the water, it is one of my favourite images from the trip.

Female Bolivian Llama herders, Llama and reflections at drinking hole with snow capped Andean peak in the background, San Juan area, SW Bolivia

After three days at the Salar de Uyuni (see earlier post), we headed back to Chile. On our last day we headed into Los Flamencos National Reserve. Here we visited a group of eroded volcanic structures called the Pacana Guardians. This is an image of the most distinctive structure and depending on the angle to which it is photographed, can be interpreted in several ways. For me it looks like the face of a Red Indian chief; others managed to come up with a somewhat cruder interpretation.

Eroded vlocanic rock structure, Pacana Guardians, Los Flamencos National Reserve, NE Chile

Later we drove to the salt plains of Salar de Pujsa. The area is a mix of water and borax with Flamingos feeding in the saline waters. Sand dunes and barren hills rise up on all sides of the salt plains. As the sun went down, the hills were bathed in golden light, creating patterns of shadow and light as shown in the next image with Flamingos feeding the shallow waters.

Feeding Flamingos in the shallow waters of Salar de Pujsa, with barren hills and sand dunes in late afternoon light in the background, NE Chile

The waters between the borax deposits then turned a dramatic orange, painted by the light reflected off the hills and dunes. Although by this stage shivering to the bone from one of the coldest winds that I have experienced, it was a memorable way to end a truly amazing trip.

Sunset painted waters between borax deposits on the salt plains of Salar de Pujas, NE Chile

Sunset reflected water on borax covered salt plains at Salar de Pujusa, NE Chile

Coming next: The birds of Midway Atoll

When I was told that our group would be spending a few hours photographing these crumbling monuments, my eyes glazed over. I saw myself having zero enthusiasm for this genre of photography. In fact, when we arrived, I remained seated in our vehicle trying to figure out how I would pass the next 2 hours.

After about 15 minutes, I reluctantly got out, without a camera and ambled lethargically over to the first of the rusting steam engines. I peered inside the boiler unit and a spark of interest was ignited. A shaft of light was streaming into the boiler chamber where the funnel used to be, illuminating the inside. I realized that it would be possible to climb inside the chamber and if I used a fish-eye lens I might be able to take an interesting image.

With my interest peaked, I photographed the insides of several other boilers and carriages. Now that my creative juices were flowing, I moved onto more abstract images. This is simply a twisted, rusting door, bought to life by the fish-eye lens and some pseudo HDR processing.

Some of the carriages carried graffiti and encouraged by our leader Joe, I zeroed in on some of the graffiti colours on the rusting, peeling steel of the carriage sides. I love this next image! As you can see, I have not been shy about boosting the saturation nor the total contrast but out of nothing, this to me has become a work of art.

Suddenly, I was seeing a myriad of abstract image possibilities.

After two hours, it was time to go and I literally had to be dragged away.

But we would have another opportunity to create art out of graffiti on our last day when we visited the seaside city of Valparaiso, two hours west of the Chilean capital Santiago. Our Chilean guide was anxious to show us the city’s colourful and picturesque residences perched on the hills overlooking the city’s azure bay. He seemed dismayed that all we were interested in was photographing the city’s abundant graffiti. We only stayed a few hours but in truth I could have stayed for days. Here is a small sample of the “graffiti art”. The artistic effect has again been amplified by liberal usage of saturation, contrast and a number of the filters in Nik software’s Colour Efex pro.

Coming next: The wonderous landscapes of the Altiplano

Of the lakes, Laguna Colorada is unquestionably the most spectacular. Sitting at an altitude of 4,300m, it lies at the foot of the Colorado and Negro Mountains. The lake receives its name from the fiery reddish coloured waters which are caused by the presence of microscopic algae (Dunaliella salina) that contain a red coloured pigment that is emitted with greatest intensity between noon and 4pm when the level of solar radiation and temperature are highest.

The shores of the lake are encrusted with borax, used for making soap, which provides an arctic-white counterpoint to the flaming red waters. As in the soda lakes of the Rift Valley of East Africa, it is the algae which inhabit these seemingly inhospitable waters that attract the Flamingos and which in turn gives them their pink colouring.

Flamingos feeding in the red and orange waters of Laguna Colorada, Reserva de Fauna Eduardo Avaroa, S.W. Bolivia

At most of the lakes the Flamingos are quite skittish. This is one of the reasons why it often pays to travel alone or with just one or two other individuals. It’s much easier to get close to wildlife on foot as a solitary individual than in a large group. Moreover, the few tourist groups that visit the Altiplano’s lakes are generally led by guides that are either completely ignorant of bird etiquette or do not even bother to accompany their guests to the lakes. All of this meant that it was hard to get close to the Flamingos even with the use of long lenses.

The best opportunity lay at Laguna de Chaxa in North East Chile. Here the Flamingos are a little more habituated to humans. But only to an extent.  A slow, measured approach works well and while our group was well disciplined, the same could not be said of the 1-2 other tourist groups that turned up a little after we arrived. On our two visits to Chaxa, we had a good 45-60 minutes of Andean, Chilean and juvenile James Flamingos in nice pre and post sunrise light on our first visit but no more than 15 minutes on the second trip thanks to an ill-disciplined bus load of German tourists. We tried to explain to them that if they wanted to see the Flamingos – which presumably they were there to do – they needed to approach very slowly. Of course they were having none of this and charged in with their point and shoot cameras. Surprise, surprise, the lake’s entire population of Flamingos quickly took flight, not to return till well after we had given up.

However, before the tourists arrived on the first visit, there was a brief five minute opportunity, just prior to the sun peaking over the mountains to east, when the lake was bathed in the most beautiful yellow pastel colouring. This image shows an Andean Flamingo walking in this light with part of a sunrise lit mountain flank reflected in the top right.

Andean Flamingo walking through pastel coloured water with sunrise lit mountian reflection at top right, Chaxa Lake, Los Flamencos National Reserve, Chile

Shortly after the sun rose, there were opportunities with juvenile James Flamingos..

Juvenile James Flamingo, Chaxa Lake, Los Flamencos National Reserve, Chile

…as well as this winter visitor from North America, a Baird’s Sandpiper.

Baird's Sandpiper and reflection on Chaxa Lake, Los Flemencos National Reserve, Chile

The shores of Chaxa Lake are covered with blocks of crusted salt of different colours. I was keen to include the Flamingos against this back drop. The following image shows a Chilean Flamingo walking parallel to the salt covered shore.

Chilean Flamingo walking in the shallows of Lake Chaxa adjacent to the salt crusted shore, Los Flamencos National Reserve, Chile

When the tourists arrived on the second visit to spook the Flamingos, I was able to anticipate the action as these Andean Flamingos ran to take flight.

Andean Flamingo running along lake surface to take flight, Chaxa Lake, Los Flamencos National Reserve, Chile

Andean Flamingo running along lake surface to take flight, Chaxa Lake, Los Flamencos National Reserve, Chile

Coming soon: something totally different.