There’s something about bears…

Bear photography in Europe, or more specifically in Finland, as this in my opinion at least is by far the most reliable location, is a bizarre, even surreal, experience. Locked in a small wooden hide for 14 hours overnight is on the face of it a dreadful prospect, and yet it’s strangely addictive. I’ve done up to eight consecutive nights in these hides in the past but the most recent trip was a quick ‘3-night-blitz’ so although my ageing back might not agree, this was a relative walk in the park.

Some of the animals I recognised from previous years and it’s rewarding to see bears that I first saw as tiny cubs now developing into young adults. I also caught up with ‘Greedy’ a big male that I first photographed for the Tooth & Claw book back in 2006. This time around this bear was very much in his prime.

I think that in spite of their universal popularity, there are certain places/species that any keen photographer should cover at least once. Norway’s sea eagles qualify and Finland’s bears qualify too. To be lying half-asleep in the half-light of a Scandinavian summer with only a thin sheet of plywood separating you from a bear squelching about in a bog, is an experience you will never forget. Problem is, it is addictive. There’s just something about bears.

My thanks to Julie, Alan, Russell, Robin and Charlie for their company on this trip.


The best osprey photography location in Europe?

Around four years ago I stood with the owner of a local estate watching a huge JCB shifting dirt this way and that. It had been a few years before that, when initial discussions took place at Rothiemurchus Estate in the Cairngorms, about creating a dedicated photography pool for fishing ospreys. This against a backdrop of UK photographers travelling to such sites in Scandinavia and paying handsomely for the privilege. And so, the best part of a decade later, after much dirt shifting, a few false starts and not inconsiderable teething problems, the pool is open and the ospreys are fishing it!

Photographing ospreys at Rothiemurchus isn’t cheap – roughly £120 per session – and for those who have previously used the site, you’ll know that shots were by no means guaranteed. The birds could fish over an extensive area and it was hit and miss whether they would dive near enough to the hides to get a decent sized image. Shots are still not guaranteed but with the new pool, you’re in with a much better chance of the plan coming together. Two low-level hides look out over a small lochan and if a bird dives anywhere in view, there’s a shot to be had. The backgrounds are good, the hides are well positioned and what has never been in doubt is the staff’s enthusiasm to help you secure the best shots possible.

I’ve been asked about the merits of osprey photography at Rothiemurchus many times and I’ve got to be honest, I’ve sat on the fence for the most part. Now I’m not on commission (are you listening Julian?) but I do like to see hard work and a pioneering spirit rewarded, so I would now say with some confidence that this is the finest location I know of, even taking into account the well-visited Finnish facility, for photographing fishing ospreys; not just in Britain but in Europe. OK it’s early days but if you’re thinking about travelling to Finland, my humble advice would be to consider this facility first.

You can book directly with Rothiemurchus here but if I can be candid, I’d recommend our very own package which includes full accommodation, food, transport, tuition and an added bonus, exclusive osprey photography at our own private site. You can view the tour here and although this year’s dates are full, here are the provisional dates for 2013:

May 11-15; July 13-17; July 20-24. Drop us a line if you want to be put on the reserve list.

The images in this blog are a mixture between Finland and the ‘old’ Rothiemurchus set up. If all goes to plan with the new pool, there will be a whole new generation of osprey images appearing in the media taking the bar to new heights.


If you like your West wild…

The west coast of Scotland can be unpredictable at the best of times – that’s why we like it so much. But then there’s unpredictable and there’s downright outrageous; the weather this last week during our Wild West photo tour was camped firmly in the latter. Snow, hail, wind, rain and glorious sunshine – we had it all, and most of it in just one day! But if you want dynamic light – and to be fair that’s what this tour offers – the Western Isles of Scotland is THE place to be.

There’s something primeval about standing on a rocky ledge with the angry pounding surf of the Atlantic just feet away; equally there’s no more a soothing sensation than a tranquil turquoise ocean caressing the white sands at your feet. Call it what you will – spiritual renewal if you like – it’s the contrast, the juxtaposition, the ludicrous beauty before you, that is both intoxicating and addictive. You can never have enough of this photographic nectar.

From our cosy bolt hole in North Harris our hardy group ventured out each dawn. Harris and Lewis, our chosen islands for this tour, are not best placed to offer views to the east – they better lend themselves to sunset interpretations, but as I say, this is a place of unpredictability. We photographed Luskentyre every which way and in all weathers and if nothing else, it made our hearty breakfasts slide down that bit easier!

Callanish was disappointing and although the famous stones were obligingly coated in icing sugar snow, they were also coated in tourists making photography almost impossible during the few brief minutes of footprint-free snow cover.

We ventured to the remote rocky shoreline of West Lewis to be greeted by hail that felt like nails being driven in to your face and then, only minutes later, the most glorious sun glistening on the wet rocks. And so it was for the whole tour.

I’m guilty of repetition at the best of times but we really are blessed with the good nature – not to mention good humour – of our tour groups and the Wild West Class of 2012 was no different. My sincere thanks to Thelma, Sasha, Roger, Gill, Duncan and Debbie and of course Paul (veteran of many Northshots tours) for their really excellent company and valued custom.

There was a Bohemian monk who went to bed in a bunk…no, on second thoughts best just hold that in the memory banks!!

If you’d like to join us on the Wild Wild West Coast in 2013, details will be published on our tour page shortly.

…and a few images of our hardy group…


Awesome!

Helena Spinks was one of four intrepid photographers who recently attended our ‘Arctic Icons’ tour in Norway. Here Helena relates the roller coaster of emotions that is wildlife photography in extreme conditions.

When I first considered the Northshots Musk Oxen tour to Norway I was concerned it would be too tough. However, I was desperate to photograph these iconic animals so I convinced myself I had plenty of time to improve my fitness and prepare myself for my biggest challenge yet.  But, as the weeks and months went by and the intended visits to the gym didn’t happen, it dawned on me as our departure grew closer that I should have been a LOT fitter.  I was apprehensive to say the least!  To make matters worse, whilst traveling on the Arctic Odyssey tour a week previously, Niall Benvie mentioned he’d been on a similar trip.  Excellent, the chance for some inside information and hopefully my mind put to rest. “How was it?” I asked.  “Great” he replied “but it nearly killed me”.  At first I thought he was joking but I soon realised he was not – my stomach churned.   This time perhaps I really had bitten off more than I could chew.  However, he went on to explain it was due to the lack of correct clothing rather than fitness.   So, I kitted myself out with some extra warm gear and worked on my mantra “I can do this”.

We all arrived safely in Trondheim, but unfortunately my baggage (with all my nice warm gear) did not.  And, as it became clear that it was not going to be with me until late the next day my apprehension grew – this was not a good start!  However, as we arrived at our destination in the Dovrefjell National Park my concerns were quickly forgotten.   The location was stunning, our accommodation quite unique and luckily for me the Hotel Manager’s daughter was my size!  Bring it on I thought.

This tour is not recommended for the faint hearted.  We had to master walking with snow shoes on snow up to 4 ft deep, endure the extreme cold winds for many hours, climb up long steep hills carrying heavy gear (500mm lens recommended) and be ready and willing to scramble back down again fast if the musk oxen decided they didn’t like the look of us.

I was not used to this extreme environment and therefore pushed to my limit – both physically and mentally.  But, I had absolute faith in our guide Roy Mangersnes who knew this area and the animals well.  With his excellent encouragement, support and leadership the experience was truly amazing and the rewards immense.  To be in such a pristinely beautiful location so close to these awesome animals was special beyond words.


From Headlands to Headspace.

Almost 2 years ago to the day I pressed the shutter with my camera pointing at a pure white ptarmigan high in the Cairngorms and in doing so bagged my first shot for the 2020VISION project. Last week I took my final images for the collection and what a difference in habitats. The Cairngorm Mountains are high, rugged and remote. Morecambe Bay is low, flat and surrounded by industry. As such, it’s not the easiest place to work, but with the expectations of the project itself, my colleagues within it and the height of the nature photograph bar generally set very high anyway, it’s been a long time since I’ve found anywhere, or anything, that is easy to put your own stamp on.

The forecast was mixed and with a short window of opportunity, I have to say I felt a wee bit pressured. The likes of Chris Gomersall, David Tipling, Danny Green and Mark Hamblin had already fed fantastic images into the story I was following – that of the UK’s estuaries and saltmarshes being ‘More than just mud’. So my task was simple : evocative scenics in dramatic light. Sounds straightforward on paper – trouble is I don’t know the area very well so I had to hit the ground running.

One of the great things about the internet is the ability to research locations and to see what other photographers have done where. Morecambe Bay is seemingly not a landscape photography magnet and I found little online that suggested obvious starting points. I sat in my campervan with a cup of tea and pondered. What were the key elements I needed to articulate here? The only word I could come up with was ‘Bigness’. Morecambe Bay is Big. Big skies, Big views…just Big. But also flat, so I needed some viewpoints and assuming dramatic skies – a pre-requisite for this type of work – I needed to get close to water to show that light to its best effect.

With these types of jobs I tend to find that working and then re-working the same few locations is more productive than charging around trying to cover everything. And so it was that over 4 days I began to gravitate towards the area around Arnside and Silverdale (fantastic cafe at RSPB Leighton Moss by the way) with dawn shoots further west at Grange.

Through a set of contacts I managed to coerce a couple of cockle fishermen to ‘model’ for me. The cockle beds in the Bay are closed presently so I’d like to point out that no cockles were harvested during the making of these pictures. The shoot however, did in many ways reflect the backdrop to why 2020VISION had chosen this location. There’s a big project underway in the area appropriately called Headlands to Headspace. This is an ambitious undertaking with the objective of rejuvenating the productivity of the Bay. I don’t just mean economic productivity, I mean ecological, cultural and even social productivity: allowing the world-class wildlife of the Bay to prosper and to allow people to benefit from improved ecological integrity – this very much includes those who make their living from harvesting natural resources.

Morecambe Bay is ostensibly a land of contradictions where natural beauty struggles to shake off the shadow of heavy industry. But it’s by no means unique in that respect. The secret perhaps – and it’s a tricky one – is not a war between one or the other, but an imaginative and sympathetic accommodation of both. Headlands to Headspace is just about right. Standing out on the mudflats at dawn with a peregrine calling nearby and with Bigness in my viewfinder, Headspace was what was offered and we all need to take up that offer when it’s made available. It’s fair to say that over 2 years working on 2020VISION I’ve had plenty of Headaches but when that memory fades, it will be the magical Headspace moments that stay with me.


Favourite images of 2011: No.1

The great thing about the still image is that it transports you back to the time and place you shot it. I try to discipline myself not to let that experience influence my objectivity when evaluating images, but in reality it’s damned difficult.

This was a moody broody evening on top of Sumburgh Head on Shetland and if truth be told there was an air of disappointment within our tour group as the cliff tops were almost bereft of puffins. Where there’s mood and brood however, there are pictures and as the sun peeped through the billowing clouds I could see gliding fulmars silhouetted against the golden sea. I like this type of picture and I like this particular picture because it was a something from nothing situation. Despite my pleas I’m not sure too many of our group shot it. Perhaps they didn’t like it – which is one of the other great things about photography!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief look back at 2011. The images I chose are not my best necessarily but represent a personal emotion, a memory. That for me is what photography is all about.

Have a great 2012 shooting new memories!


Favourite images of 2011: No.2

This was a desperate and torrid hour of photography leaving me exhausted and dripping wet. A pair of Harlequin ducks were riding the rapids of an Icelandic river and whilst there were shots to be had, their arrival on the slower water downstream allowed the use of the exquisite evening light. Only one problem: to get close enough to them I needed to wade the river and clamber onto a gravel spit. I did it once only to have the birds sail past. Remarkably they flew back upstream and repeated their journey – I did the same jumping back into the river. This happened several more times with me becoming increasingly frustrated. I took about a hundred images and liked just one. This is it.  The following day the birds were loafing right by the river bank but the light was not a patch on the previous evening.


Favourite 5 images of 2011: No.3

I get an enormous amount of satisfaction from images taken close to home. This image like the others in this series, will never win any prizes but it has an extra dimension for me as it results from knowing my own patch. During most winters, snow-melt from the high tops results in the River Spey bursting its banks but unlike many rivers, the Spey is accommodated by its natural flood plain, which avoids damage to roads and houses. Knowing that a significant rise in temperature would result in flooding, I kept an eye on the marshy surrounds of the Spey and on a flat-calm day, nailed a series of ‘PLNs’ (Pleasant Little Numbers).


Favourite 5 images of 2011: No.4

Back in April I spent a few weeks for the 2020VISION project just about as far west as Britain will allow. The Outer Hebrides is a challenging environment and for a good part of the time it rained – that was inevitable. One evening more out of hope than expectation (it was raining again) I visited a remote beach bathed in aquamarine waters. Just before sundown, the rain abated and I took my chance working feverishly for an hour or so before the light became impossible. There are lots of images like this one but only this was taken by me, alone on that Hebridean beach.


Favourite 5 images of 2011: No.5

I’ve photographed squirrels many, many times but do you know what, the combination of this cute native rodent, pine forest and falling snow, is something that draws me back time and again and it’s just damned good fun. I’m not sure this is a classic image by any means but it recalls a winter’s morning spent alone in my hide…with no phone signal.