Ingólfshöfðil

June 23, 2017 in June 2017, Other

Ingólfur Arnarson first stepped on Icelandic soil around 874, or so this is how the story goes. According to the Landnáma (The Icelandic Book of Settlements), Arnarson and his family were the first Norse people to settle the subarctic island, and claim Reykjavik to be their home. However, prior to reaching the infamous capital city to the west, Arnarson spent his inaugural winter in Ingólfshöfðil along the cape where he beached his seafaring vessel. Named for the nordic explorer who founded Iceland, Ingólfshöfðil is now a privately owned and managed nature preserve.

Two Steps up One Step Back
Nikon D810 + Nikon 16-35mm f/4VR

Isolated by kilometers of black sand and unpredictable rivers, the journey from Iceland’s loop road to the coast is how I’d imagine a trip across the Martian landscape. Hobbling along as if on the Mars rover, a tractor-pulled cart dragged us through sand and sea in search of gems that inhabit the cliffs. Rising 76 meters above the ocean, we climbed the steep and sandy terrain descending one foot for every three feet of progress.

Flight to the Colony / Atlantic Puffin
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f/4.0VR

With the exception of its colorful lighthouse, the windswept plateau is void of human constructs and consists of grassy fields and jagged cliffs that drop off into the ocean. The main attraction of the cape is a colony of puffins nesting at cliff’s edge where they have access to nutrient rich waters. While seemingly idyllic to the peninsular’s inhabitants, the neighborhood is not without its dangers, for nesting within the grasses are predatory skuas. Here the drama of predator and prey can be witnessed as skuas rob puffin nests and even capture unsuspecting adult birds.

Skuas eat Lundi
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f/4.0VR

Great Black-backed Gull *(Larus marinus)* - Jökulsárlón, Iceland
Nikon D7100 + Nikon 200-500mm VR

Wildlife Landscape #3 - Simplicity

December 10, 2016 in December 2016

While in Iceland, Tamy and I photographed an equal mix of wildlife and landscapes. While each was intriguing on its own, the two would occasionally collide. Much like the blend of chocolate and peanut butter in a Reese’s Cup™, when serendipity happens, two good things can make something great.

Common Eider (*Somateria mollissima)* - Jökulsárlón, Iceland
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm VR

Atlantic Puffin Colony - Iceland
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f/4.0

Can it Get any Better?

October 15, 2016 in October 2016

Have we reached a point in wildlife photography where it can't get any better? With the ever crashing prices of high quality digital gear, the pursuit of wildlife imagery has become "every man's (or woman's)" game. In 1994 I spent $2000 for a previously owned Carl Zeiss 300mm f/4.0 lens because I desperately wanted to photograph the wildlife of Costa Rica, Minnesota and the West Coast. A fortune to me at the time, the choice to buy the lens translated into real sacrifices. Rather than splurge on a nice car, an apartment in a trendy neighborhood or pay off my debts, I chose to embellish my photographic and travel desires.

Atlantic Puffin in Flight - Iceland
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f/4.0

In stark contrast to when I began taking my photography seriously, today I could spend the same $2000 and purchase an amazing 150-600mm lens and prosumer DSLR camera with a wide-angle to mid-range zoom lens. What's more, rather than risking the unknown of the used market, all of my gear would be new and under a manufacturer's warranty. The obstacle that was once the price of quality gear, is not an impediment to making quality images today.

Atlantic Puffin - Iceland
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f/4.0

In 1995 I took my first of ten trips to Costa Rica. As a formally trained ecologist and evolutionary biologist, a trip to the tropics was high on my "future travels list." Even by the mid-90's Costa Rica was less exotic than other destinations, but it remained a relatively low-touristed hot-spot for photography. With one bag packed with thirty rolls of film and the other with quick drying clothes, I can still recall that primitive outdoor airport the greeted us in San Jose. A trip that might cost $1500 per person today was about double the expense in 1995. So, much like the democratization of gear, travel to lesser-visited wildlife destinations have become easier to find and increasingly affordable.

Atlantic Puffin Looking Back - Iceland
Nikon D7100 + Nikon 200-500mm f/5.6

And what of the art in image making. Quite honestly, the photographs I see today during a random Google Search, on forums and on blogs match or surpass what was once the "gold standard for nature photography,..." National Geographic. Digital image making rewards those willing to engage in trial and error and inquiry-based learning. It has never been easier to take a picture, review the product and modify the process on the spot. No more waiting for film to be developed by a lab, the digital artist is free to experiment, invent and grow faster than I ever could when analog (aka film) was king.

Atlantic Puffin with Meal for Chicks - Iceland
Nikon D7100 + Nikon 200-500mm f/5.6

So, can it get any better? Well at this point, I am not sure that the answer is yes. Every day people are producing photographs of hummingbirds where every feather can be visualized with light refracting through prismatic barbs, while others capture lions (or insert the predator of your choice) leaping, biting or chasing their quarry in a display that was once only producible by the "professional" nature photographer. While I am beginning to doubt that images of the future can get better, I do believe they will be different. Every photographer sees and interprets their world through their eyes. While many try to emulate the "masters," it is still the individual image maker who decides to snap and share or withhold a given picture. Even if nothing new can be made, anyone who holds a camera and treasures the image making process has the capacity to see "it" and photograph "it" before "it" or they are gone. So, it is likely that my initial query is not the question that needs be asked, rather than "Can it..., maybe I'm wondering... "Does it matter if it can't get any better?"

Ice in the Lagoon - **Jökulsárlón, Iceland**

Jökulsárlón Lagoon - Icelandic Portfolio One

July 27, 2016 in July 2016

I spent three blocks of time over three days photographing the Jökulsárlón Lagoon. The photos pictured here were all made during a magical moment that lasted nearly five hours. Transfixed by the changing, sky, light and water, I could have spent days photographing these ice sculptures carved by wind and water.

Arctic Tern (*Sterna paradisaea*) - Iceland
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f/4 VR1

Species Profile - Arctic Tern (Sterna paradisaea)

July 12, 2016 in July 2016

There’s something about the “little known fact” that seems to spark a child-like curiosity in each of us. Paging through “The Guinness Book of World Records” or an old almanac eats time almost as fast as falling down a rabbit hole during a mind-numbing web-crawl. For example, did you know that the Cuban bee hummingbird (Mellisuga helenae) at 7 cm (2.75”) and 1.6 g (0.056 oz) is the smallest bird, while the fastest swimmer is the gentoo penguin, Pygoscelis papua, which can swim up to 40 km/hr ( 25mph).

Arctic Tern (*Sterna paradisaea*) Hovering - Iceland

The record for long-distance migrations belong to the diminutive Arctic tern, Sterna paradiseaea. The ultimate “snowbird,” the Arctic tern will fly up to 90,000 km/year (56,000 miles) a year as it alternates between its winter and summer habitats. This slender pelagic species spends its summer months breeding in Arctic only to fly south and overwinter in Antarctica annually. Feeding predominately on small fish like herring and sandlances, Arctic terns will also eat insects and berries throughout their northern breeding range. Living for up to 30 years, Arctic terns will often return to their natal colony when searching for a mate and establishing a nesting territory.

Arctic Tern (*Sterna paradisaea*) and Jökulsárlón Growler - Iceland

For those interested in learning about other unique species, you might want to check out other profiles I have written in the past: Megalopygidae, Yucca brevifolia, Kirk’s dik-dik

Sources: Cornell Lab of Ornithology & Wikipedia

Eye of the Needle - Selectively Decolored

In the Mind’s Eye

July 04, 2016 in July 2016

While hiking towards a seabird rookery on Heimaey, the largest island in the Vestmannaeyjar Archipelago, I caught a glimpse of three islands through the “eye of a needle.” The rock formation had been eroded into an arch, and the distant islands stretched to the right of the window. We were exhausted by the steep climb and uneven terrain, so Tamy was more than willing to yield for a photo break. I paced back and fourth to find an angle where the islands would be framed by the arch. Sadly, the light was impossibly hazy and the distance between the foreground rocks and background islands was so great that the photo you see here could not be made from a single shot. To capture what I saw and imagined, the final picture would require some work in post. Aware of this key point from the start, I took a moment to pre-plan the shoot. I set the white balance in the camera to “cloudy” and focused carefully on the foreground rock formation. By setting the lens to 200mm and f11, I knew I would capture good detail in both the plants and arch. After making the first image, I checked the camera’s histogram to ensure that none of the highlights or shadows were clipped. The production of a balanced, yet boring photo, maximized the data for post-processing. Before packing up the camera, I took a second photograph at the same focal length, aperture, shutter speed and white balance, but varied my point of focus. Rather than capturing the details of the arch this time, I focused on the islands in the distance. These two original photographs are pictured below as unprocessed raw images.

Sharp Foreground

Sharp Islands

I nearly deleted the images after uploading them to the computer. However, seeing the pics transported me back to island’s peak and the plan I had imagined during that hike. Rather than trashing the photos, I began to play. I adjusted the clarity, vibrance and sharpness in Lightroom and used the “dehaze” slider to draw out the blues from the water. Experimentation and play is an essential part of the artistic process, yet I rarely allow myself the time and opportunity to “go off road” with my photographs. Once I found the color balance and details hidden in the raw file, I copied the algorithm for picture number one and applied it to picture number two. The product of this “play” can be seen in the following two processed photos.

Sharp Foreground

Sharp Islands

Now that the near and distantly focused images were exposed and processed to my satisfaction, I applied a photoshop stacking routine to combine the two pictures into one. While I do not stack images often, I have relied on this technique when I want to make a photograph with a near-infinite depth of focus. The method I use is derived from James Lewis’s technique as described here. Once the two photographs were stacked into one, I applied a crop, noise reduction and a bit of unsharp mask. The final image, below, is one part imagination and one part reality. It is an interpretation of a fleeting moment seen by tired eyes during an endless hike. Were it not for a moment of forethought where I made the time to imagine a final photograph, this moment would have been nothing more than a memory.

Stacked Image - Heimaey Vestmannaeyjar Archipelago, Iceland

Opportunity Made

June 23, 2016 in June 2016

It is 2:15 pm in Iceland and Tamy and I are now "killing" time in Keflavik (Iceland's international airport). Our flight leaves at 4:45 and we are scheduled to land in Minneapolis at 6:00 pm... I feel like I will be traveling through space and time. This is exactly opposite to the "red-eye" we took to get here. To say Iceland was fantastic would be the greatest understatement in my life. Much like my first trip to Africa, where Tamy and I safaried throughout Tanzania for 12 continuous days, this was a life altering experience. I have so many stories and images to share, but will just offer this one for now.

On day three Tamy and I began a day's long drive to our lodging near the Jokulsarlon glacial lagoon. I pointed the 4x4 east on the main "ring road" that encircles the island and planned to stop and shoot some of the waterfalls along our route. While there is a near infinite number of ephemeral falls that develop throughout the summer, a few are must see locations. Known internationally, a few of these are a part of nearly every short of long tour of the country. Having just left the solitude of the Westman (Vestmannaeyjar) Islands, we were sorely disappointed when we arrived at one Iceland's most spectacular falls. Known as Skogafoss, these falls form a giant sheet of water that is nearly as wide as it is high. I was so mesmerized by this natural wonder that I do not have the words to describe what I saw. Magnificent and uninspired... the two dichotomous thoughts that now describe what I felt. Uninspired because the valley was choked with tourists. Sure, I too was a tourist, but I was not rude and disrespectful to the space we shared. All I saw were self-abhorbed people taking selfies, blocking views and sidling up to photographers trying to lose themselves in the beauty. So disheartened, I took only five photos while Tamy did not even extract her camera from the pack.... opportunity lost!(?)

In the end, this was an opportunity made. Three nights prior to the end of our travels we found ourselves in a loop back towards the falls. With lodging only 80km from Skogafoss we decided to sleep during the day and visit the falls at midnight. Sunset in southern Iceland was at 12:03am on June 21 and we arrived at 11:00pm. With only six people milling about and taking pictures, we had this place to ourselves. The photo shared is at sunset, made around 12:00 am....This is now how I will always remember Skogafoss.

There are no Billboards

June 21, 2016 in June 2016

Having traversed1098 km (682 miles) from western Iceland to the eastern-most fjords, the absence of roadside advertisements has been a refreshing departure the norm. Anyone who has driven one route or another from New York to California knows that American highways are littered with billboards begging for attention. Rising from earth to sky, these monuments to consumerism feed the endless need to be entertained by human constructs rather than nature. In place of billboards, Iceland and the Icelandic people have strategically distributed mountains, volcanos, rivers and waterfalls across the landscape. Should one become bored with these geologic wonders, tired eyes can gaze upon fields of sheep, majestic horses and ruins past Icelandic peoples. We are eight in an eleven day journey and I already know that I will miss the beauty of this country that has entered the modern age more eloquently than my own.

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