How to do sunset photos, part 2.

Haystack rock, near Pacific City, Oregon.

Once you have figured out what your exposure should be, it is time to frame up your shot.  If you don't know what I am talking about, click here.  Send a hundred people out with cameras, get them to take ten different shots of a sunset, and you will get a thousand different pictures.  Some will be great, some mediocre, and some not so awesome.  Even though they are all shooting the same sunset, there are a host of variables which produces such diversity.

I always scan the area I am shooting in for attractive foreground structures.  They should be simple and easily identifiable in silhouette form.  Nothing at all tends to be weak, even though the colours can be quite attractive.  When I find something, I next have to move around and think how I will compose it relative to the setting sun.  This requires a lot of moving about and playing with focal length.  I use the rule of thirds in my compositions, although not religiously.

Since sunsets are so fleeting, it is not a bad idea to do a trial run the night before.  It will give you a good idea of where to be at what point in time.  This way you will already have a plan and not be rushed as the time drains away.  I really like reflecting water in sunsets, especially when the winds are low and you get a marvelous shimmering sheen of light coming off it.  Tie that in with sky, silhouette, and sun and you will be pleased with the result.

If you want to photograph a person in the shot, consider using an external flash.  You do exactly the same as before but add flash.  With an ISO of 100 at f/8 and a shutter speed of 1/200th of a second, your built-in flash will be good for only 5 or 6 feet.  An external unit will give you 12 feet or so, which should be plenty.  Take a photo and press play on the camera and examine the result.  If the person is too bright (overexposed), dial down the power of the flash by using flash exposure compensation.  Try a -1 stop change first then adjust as needed.

The great thing about photographing sunsets is that you get to experience them.  We are often too busy to stop and enjoy their beauty and the peace they evoke.  Yes, the goal is to capture their beauty, but I learned a long time ago that photography is both an art and an excuse to go and do wonderful things.  Enjoy life, and take a few pictures along the way.

How to do sunset photos, part 1.

Sunset at Lac Bellevue, Alberta.

Everyone likes sunsets, but how do you photograph them?  Most people will use an auto mode on their cameras and click away.  The sun goes in the middle of the shot and nothing blocks its view.  That is certainly one method to photograph our closest star, but not the one I recommend.

The first issue with sunsets is that the sun is in the picture.  That may seem like a strange thing to say, but it is true.  The sun is very bright, and so is the sky above it.  All that brightness may cause a significant underexposure of the shot.  The other side of the coin relates to the fact that all foreground items will be backlit, rendering them very underexpossed.  I actually like that in a sunset, as the resulting silhouettes contrast nicely with the transitioning colours in the sky.  The reverse problem can occur though; too many darks may cause the camera to overexpose the scene and turn those lovely colours into ligher washed out hues.  Part of the problem also comes with composition; how much sky, water, and silhouettes are present in the image.

If you have watched a sunset for about an hour, until ten minutes or so after the sun disappears completely from view, you will know that it is highly variable in terms of lighting.  Both issues above, including the complication of composition, renders a low probability of success.  Instead, there is a much better technique which can be used to improve your chances of obtaining a photo you will be excited by.  The good news is that it is not too hard; the bad news is it means playing with your camera's settings.

Use a modest wide angle or telephoto setting, depending on what you are trying to do.  More zoom will give you a larger sun but less foreground substance.  Set your ISO to 100 (do not use auto ISO) and change your mode dial to manual.  Set your aperture to about f/8, and the shutter speed to 1/125th of a second.  If you only have a single command dial, your aperture is changed by pressing the exposure compensation button (+/-) and rotating the dial at the same time.  Next comes the tricky part.

Select the spot metering mode.  Put the camera to your eye and place the central spot (where the spot meter measures light) to a point beside the sun where it is bright but not overly so.  There is some latitude about where exactly that it, but the sun should be a modest distance away from the center spot.  Now, look at the meter in the viewfinder and rotate the command dial until it reads +1 stop overexposed.  Whatever shutter speed you end up with is the one you want.  If you find that your camera has a hard time with this, you can actually zoom in all the way and use the same technique to obtain your shutter speed value.  The whole idea is to meter off a small area of the scene, and zooming in helps with this.  Zoom back out to the focal length you want to use and take a photo.

If you are there for more than a few minutes repeat the procedure to get a new shutter speed.  As the sun continues to set you will have to adjust the shutter speed accordingly.  You can do this as long as you like.  If your shutter speed starts to get too long you may need a tripod.  I find most of my shots are around 1/250th of a second or so.  You should have brilliant colours in the sky, a nicely silhouetted foreground, and pleasantly coloured reflections off the water.

I will do another blog next day on how to use interesting silhouettes for foreground and will discuss shooting portraits of people with a sunset background.

Rainbows

A rainbow at Whitney Lake, Alberta

The rainbow is an ethereal artifact; progeny of the sun and rain.  I had an interesting discussion with one of my science classes on them.  The students thought that it was an actual physical thing that could be touched.  It did not occur to them that its vapourous existence was the result of bright sunlight refracting through billions of raindrops.  It seemed inconceivable that this curved pillar of symbolism should be nothing more than the result of bent light rays hitting the retinas of their eyes.

You can create your own rainbow on a sunny day by generating a fine mist of water.  The water drops form into tiny spheres, a product of the cohesive forces of water and surface tension acting in unison.  Light entering these spheres follows the rules of refraction and bends; longer wavelengths like blues bend more than shorter wavelengths like red.  The nature of matter following the laws of physics creates this icon of happiness and joy.

It gets weirder when frozen water vapour is involved.  High up in the atmosphere, much farther away from the Earth than planes even fly, are tiny crystals of water which have sublimed onto miniscule dust particles we call condensation nuclei.  These crystals are not spherical, but rather flat.  They are further orientated parallel to each other to produce the effect; randomized crystals would only serve to scatter the light without incident.  Sunlight filtering through these shards refracts as before and the sundog is produced. 

As I looked up sundogs to verify my musings, I came across something I have never actually seen before.  The term sundog actually refers to the bright points of light occurring at opposing ends of the refractive halo.  I have only ever seen the halo, which I have been apparently mistaking for a sundog.  If you want to see a pair of sundogs, have a look at the youtube video I linked to below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8GHZOvhxS1E

Colours and lines

Sometimes, you just have to stop.

I admit to being driven.  Specifically, when I am travelling I feel compelled to get there with the minimum number of stops.  Home, destination, go.  It was something I learned from my dad, who could drive for 48 hours straight with only stops for gas.  If we could have installed a 200 gallon gas tank on top of the car, even those few breathers would have disappeared.  We made it from Kingston, Ontario to Sylvan Lake, Alberta once in 44 hours. 

So, driving for me is not something to enjoy, but rather an obstacle to overcome.  Not that I don't like driving.  Some of my fondest memories of my dad are in the car, passing by all the wonderful places to explore.  I love driving my RV.  Once seated though, the whole appeal of enjoying the surrounding area or taking a few photos seems to evaporate.  There is only the quest of arrival to sooth the wanderlust within me.  There are, however, exceptions.

Occasionally something will stir on the horizon or in my peripheral vision which demands more attention.  There are a few moments where this has been true, the above photo was one of those events.  There, by the side of the road, was the most amazing collection of marine paraphernalia I have ever seen.  Enough amazing colours, lines, shapes, and eye catching bric-a-brac to indulge any photo enthusiast.  What was even better was that it was organized with great care; not strewn about with abandon.

Relinquishing the desire to pass this visual smorgasbord, we pulled over and explored the organized mayhem.  Although hours could have been spent considering all the possible views in the search for the quintessential photograph, I allotted only enough time to get off a couple of shots.  Still though, I really like this photo, as it speaks about the power of colour and lines in an image.  It also reminds me to stop more frequently and smell the roses, or in this case, see the ropes. 

Camping revealed.

Camping while at Newcastle Island Provincial Park

One of the rites of passage for many Canadians is camping in the wilderness.  Although, I suppose the term "wilderness" needs some addressing.  Canada abounds with true wilderness that is completely devoid of any human presence for at least a few dozen miles.  I have done my fair share of camping, but cannot really say that much of it has been in true wilderness.  Mostly it has been in provincial or national parks where help was never too far away.  Perhaps a term befitting the situation is wildish-area, which probably increases the wussy factor by quite a bit but is no doubt more accurate.  

When I was just a lad I did camping with my dad as part of the cub-scout troop he helped in.  Then, as a young man, I led a number of scout troupes myself and did some camping on my own as well.  The experiences here were all well within park boundaries.  It was in my mid twenties that I had my first real taste of what could be called the bush.  Hiking and canoeing led me into the interior of places relatively untouched by human hands.  The area around Central Alberta was the backdrop for these wanderings, and they honestly left me in awe of what an incredible country we live in.  

As our kids grew up we went through a variety of camp lodging.  We started off with tents, then got a tent trailer, moved up to a travel trailer, and ended up with a motor home.  Some may look down upon those of us with wheeled habitation, but the truth is it made spending time together easier.  First of all there were those among us who refused to use anything less than flush toilets equipped with proper lighting and ventilation.  Then there was the contingent who needed a safe place to put all the toys and gear of comfort.  Admittedly, I benefited from the upgrades as it gave me a place to work on my photography and book writing.  

Throughout my attempts to commune with nature, I have been fortunate in being able to go camping in a more traditional sense.  Two stints on the West Coast Trail and two opportunities to explore the Broken Islands have again filled me with a sense of wonder.  I hope some day to explore parts of Ontario and other areas of Canada's amazing wilderness.  It's true most of that may be done in a hard sided recreational vehicle at places not too far from people, but now that I have embraced being a camping wuss I can enjoy the experience all the more.  And who knows, one day I might break out the tent once again - I will need a place to put the grandchildren (should we ever have any).

It's a crock!

Crock, emerging from a lake, Newfoundland.

It was a warm, sunny day in the middle of summer.  The few clouds in the sky bobbed about like marshmallows on a blue bed of jello.  We were enjoying a moment of calm during our trek across country.  It was 1984, and George Orwell's vision of the future needed a few more decades to evolve.  The blue lake beckoned to us, its tepid waters luring all onlookers into its calm embrace.  Some of us were successfully lured into its murky depths, others however were decidedly more cautious.

The contrast between the warmth of the day and the cool of the lake eventually won most of the ambivalent over.  Soon Frisbees were being thrown and caught, and little hands were busily hauling buckets of water towards their fortresses of sand.  It was, by all accounts, an average day at the lake.  It was not until someone noticed a peculiar beast emerging from the shoreline that mayhem was unleashed.

They called it "Crock," a green and hideous morph between crocodile and lion.  It rose out of the shallows onto the beach, opening its maw to reveal cruel teeth capable of dismembering limb from torso with ease.  A child asked their parent, "What's that?" while pointing.  A scream sounded the alarm, and suddenly everyone was running for their lives.  Children were whisked up; provisions and comforts abandoned, and the population as a whole merged into a rapidly retreating mass.  Through it all, Crock kept plodding along.

It was the fellow with the camera who did not flinch.  Being roused by the mob and their din, he did what any photographer would do - grab the camera and head toward the ruckus.  Soon, with everyone gone, he alone was left to gaze upon this unique creature.  What was peculiar about the situation was the lack of attention the supposedly malevolent beast had for the fleeing crowd.  Surely a such hungry and ghastly denizen would turn to such chewy morsels with glee and seek sustenance.  Those jaws, after all, could easily separate body and limb with ease.

Yet, it seemed that Crock was not your average malevolent monster.  There was a certain calm allure about this creature.  Perhaps its vicious persona was attributed to it by an overabundance of caution.  So, after snapping a few images, the lone photographer approached the terror.  Instead of being torn apart, or worse decapitated, the thing rolled on its back.  It seems that it was more interested in tummy rubs than dismembering.  Obliging, the photographer imparted that for which the creature searched.  After a few moments of this new found affection, Crock turned around and sought refuge into the lake from whence it came.

All that is left is the pictures.  Crock has not been seen since, but for one, this photographer wonders what would have occurred should his tummy-rubbing skills had not been up to par.

It's a bugs life.

Re-purposed Volkswagen Beetle

All that is missing is a rousing chorus of "Strawberry Fields Forever" by the Fab Four.  This iconic Volkswagen Beetle greeted us every time we went south to our favourite camping destination near Leavenworth, Washington.  There were always a number of familiar indicators which appeared rounding the corners on the curvy road, each one telling us we were almost there.  There was no need for the familiar question, "Are we there yet?", as evidence was mounting that, in fact, we almost were.

I always liked this road side distraction.  Someone had gone through a lot of work to take the old derelict, which would have embarrassed a scrap yard, and turn it into a fond memory.  The paint reminding the passerby of a ladybug; ironically a beetle in its own right.  Polka dots are, of course, a comforting design and popular with kids of all ages.  The eye lashes, lipstick, Uncle Sam and a bear inside the bug, and spiraling wind sock all added to that appeal.

If you look at the history of the Volkswagen Beetle you might be amazed.  It was designed in the early thirty's in Germany when You-Know-Who was in power.  He, in fact, placed the cornerstone for the factory's construction and was given the very first convertible Beetle out of that same building.  After WWII the British took over production, and the Beetle went on to become the world's most popular car, an amazing feat to be sure.  Then there was Herbie, a 1963 Beetle affectionately called "The Love Bug."

Sadly, Volkswagen has stopped production of the renewed model, and the familiar chassis will no longer be made.  There are many reminders of its fame though, and of this tough little car winning the hearts of so many.  The name "Volkswagen" means "people's car", and it certainly has been that.  Whenever I see one, I will always think of things like punch buggies, Herbie, and of course, that wonderful little Beetle near Leavenworth.

Information from:  https://www.forbes.com/sites/msolomon/2018/09/14/luxury-lineage-a-brief-history-of-the-volkswagen-beetle/#5d69ada75048