Perfect Winter Morning
A Friday morning in February and we're up before the day rises to greet us, wiping sleep from our eyes and trying not to disturb the other guests as we struggle to come to terms with the early start and collect our thoughts. There's a sense of irritation for those of us who aren't very good until at least half past 10 and 3 cups of tea later, mixed with a tinge of excitement at what awaits us.
All three of us had avidly watched a YouTube film by Thomas Heaton, in which our intrepid hero had ventured into Glencoe at exactly this time of year. It was this film that inspired our first ever photography expedition. We'd all been awarded good behaviour passes from the ladies in our lives and found ourselves on the plane to Glasgow with bagfuls of camera equipment. In his film, Mr Heaton had ventured up the slopes of Beinn a Chrulaiste to shoot the Buachaille at sunrise, and we had decided that if it was good enough for him, then it would suit us just fine.
And so, after struggling up through drifts of snow we found ourselves looking at this view. It didn't disappoint, and remains my happiest, most fulfilling moment in the time that I've been doing landscape photography. To stand here and just look at the scene in the early pink light of morning truly takes the breath away. It's a day I'll never forget. As the watches ticked, we watched the sun rise and gradually flood the scene with golden light at the start of which was a very memorable three days of non-stop intensive photography with like minded souls. We each agreed that trips like this, where you're not worried that the person or people with you are getting bored and you can completely zone into your own little world are the best way to take photos.
I hadn't shared this image until now, even though the moment happened more than 2 years ago. It's a panoramic stitch, to which if I'd paid a little more attention to the original 6 shots, might have proved easier to process. The initial merge produced an odd result, as if the Buachaille were the pinnacle of the world with the road to Glencoe and Rannoch Moor on either side of it slipping away rapidly. It looked like we were on a planet only a couple of hundred miles in circumference and I had no idea how to fix it. But recently I watched Mads Peter Iversen using the warp command in Photoshop and a lightbulb suddenly switched on inside my head. It's not exactly perfect, but as long as no expert geographers examine it too closely I might just get away with it until I can return and shoot the scene once more.
Happy Easter folks - stay safe.
Perfect Winter Morning
A Friday morning in February and we're up before the day rises to greet us, wiping sleep from our eyes and trying not to disturb the other guests as we struggle to come to terms with the early start and collect our thoughts. There's a sense of irritation for those of us who aren't very good until at least half past 10 and 3 cups of tea later, mixed with a tinge of excitement at what awaits us.
All three of us had avidly watched a YouTube film by Thomas Heaton, in which our intrepid hero had ventured into Glencoe at exactly this time of year. It was this film that inspired our first ever photography expedition. We'd all been awarded good behaviour passes from the ladies in our lives and found ourselves on the plane to Glasgow with bagfuls of camera equipment. In his film, Mr Heaton had ventured up the slopes of Beinn a Chrulaiste to shoot the Buachaille at sunrise, and we had decided that if it was good enough for him, then it would suit us just fine.
And so, after struggling up through drifts of snow we found ourselves looking at this view. It didn't disappoint, and remains my happiest, most fulfilling moment in the time that I've been doing landscape photography. To stand here and just look at the scene in the early pink light of morning truly takes the breath away. It's a day I'll never forget. As the watches ticked, we watched the sun rise and gradually flood the scene with golden light at the start of which was a very memorable three days of non-stop intensive photography with like minded souls. We each agreed that trips like this, where you're not worried that the person or people with you are getting bored and you can completely zone into your own little world are the best way to take photos.
I hadn't shared this image until now, even though the moment happened more than 2 years ago. It's a panoramic stitch, to which if I'd paid a little more attention to the original 6 shots, might have proved easier to process. The initial merge produced an odd result, as if the Buachaille were the pinnacle of the world with the road to Glencoe and Rannoch Moor on either side of it slipping away rapidly. It looked like we were on a planet only a couple of hundred miles in circumference and I had no idea how to fix it. But recently I watched Mads Peter Iversen using the warp command in Photoshop and a lightbulb suddenly switched on inside my head. It's not exactly perfect, but as long as no expert geographers examine it too closely I might just get away with it until I can return and shoot the scene once more.
Happy Easter folks - stay safe.