D. Scott Clark Photography

Ouray Ice Festival

2012-01-29T04:08:00.001+05:30

The first weekend of 2012 I spent in "the Switzerland of America," Ouray Colorado at the Ouray Ice Festival. The quaint town of Ouray, pronounced "euray", is nestled into a valley completely surrounded by impressive mountains. The Ice Festival takes places just above the town at the Ouray Ice Park, a "manmade ice climbing venue operated in a spectacular natural gorge."

I like to browse Craigslist regularly and I came across a post asking for a ride-share to the festival. I'd never heard of it, but when I looked it up I knew I had to go. A six hour car ride later we arrive in Ouray.

Main Street in Ouray

Click here to continue reading and see more photos.

Moon Halo

My craigslist friend and I decided to brave the cold and car camp in a small park above the city. It was a beautifully clear night with an almost moon acting as our night light. In the morning we prepared to watch the highlight of the festival, the climbing competition. I talked the editor of Rock and Ice into getting me access to the base of the gorge so I could shoot the competition.

Emily Harrington working on her first place womens finish during the competition on Saturday

Emily Harrington shows off her "figure of nine" technique

From down inside the gorge

Nathan Kutcher crossing the ice bridge for his first place finish.

Andres Marin starting off his second place run

Rob Cordey-Cotter reaching the ice-bridge right before he timed out

Rob Cordey-Cotter free soloing a WI5 out of the gorge instead of taking the "walk of shame"

Dawn Glanc working her way across the ice bridge

Rob Cordey-Cotter topside after free soloing out of the gorge

The view down the gorge

The spectacular mountains that surround Ouray

New Portfolio Website.

2012-01-28T22:51:00.001+05:30

Right before I left to go to the 2012 Winter Outdoor Retailer trade show in Salt Lake City I rushed to get my new website design done. I thankfully finished the design, but I still have some updating to do with it. I think you will appreciate the simplified design. It's easier to navigate and a lot cleaner. Let me know what you think. Check it out at www.dscottclarkphoto.com

Matt Lloyd in Eldorado Canyon

2012-01-28T13:10:00.000+05:30

When you get busy and you're traveling non-stop somethings go by the wayside. Right now it's been blogging. I've been shooting a lot in Colorado, from Eldorado Canyon to the Ouray Ice Festival in Ouray, Colorado. I also spent the last two weeks going to outdoor tradeshows and meeting with prospective clients. I am extremely excited for this coming year. And I love living in Colorado. I've never quite felt like I've belonged someplace so much as here.

The Bastille Wall

A few weeks ago climber, Matt Lloyd, took me out to Eldorado Canyon. It's a beautiful canyon about 20 minutes from Boulder, Colorado that you reach by a driving through the quaint town of Eldorado Springs. Most of the climbs here are trad (traditional - meaning you have to place your own protection), and the ratings are pretty stout. But it's someplace I want to explore a lot more.

Enjoy a few selects from the shoot.

Matt Lloyd on Kleptocracy 5.13b

2012-01-04T02:00:00.000+05:30

Happy New Years everyone! I hope that 2012 is great. 2011 was a rough year for a lot of us. This year can only be better. I'm in a new place with new opportunities. I can't wait to see what will happen this year.

Last week my friend Matt Lloyd asked me to come out and photograph him on his project, Kleptocracy, a 5.13b at the Quarry Wall in Golden, Colorado. I gladly obliged. It was great to get out of the apartment and onto the rock. I apparently missed the trail and bushwacked straight up the mountain. I am definitely not accustomed to climbing at close to 6,000 feet carrying pounds and pounds of camera and climbing gear. When Matt greeted me at the top he said, "Carrying all of that will definitely get you into shape." I have to learn to travel lighter somehow.

The face of "f'ing try hard"

The Coors Brewery in Golden, Colorado. The Quarry Wall looks over Golden and Denver. Beautiful location.

Colorado is so beautiful. The trail that I should have taken to get up...was much easier going down.

New Wedding Website

2012-01-03T23:32:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I finished my new wedding website. www.dscottclarkphoto.com/weddings/. Hit it up. Share it with your friends. Let me know if you're interested in booking me for this spring and summer.

Jared in Auer Hall

2011-12-27T00:16:00.003+05:30

I'm just getting settled in here in Boulder. It's pretty quiet here since all the students are gone for the holidays. My drive out here last week was pretty eventful. I left St. Louis on Monday morning expecting to reach Boulder by about 10pm. About an hour and half outside of Kansas City I hit the massive blizzard that cut through the Central US. It was quite sudden. It went from rain to dangerously snow covered roads in what seemed like a matter of seconds. Cars were off the road everywhere. I ended up spending the night in Hays, Kansas to wait out the blizzard. The mountains were shining beautifully by the time I was driving through Denver, welcoming me in. I'm glad to be here now, I can't wait to find out what is in front of me. Whenever Fed Ex finds my skis that they lost, I will head up to Keystone or Breckenridge and get my season started.

A few days before I left I took photos of my friend, Jared, who's a performance pianist in the beautiful Auer Hall at Indiana University. We got to the hall after midnight thinking it would be empty, but an organist was about to record for her class. She allowed us half an hour to get our shots done. Working without an assistant meant it went slower than it could have.

I set up one flash behind and on each side of Jared. The third flash I put slightly to my right. I shot it through my 72" translucent reflector to soften the light substantially. Since I didn't have an assistant I had to sandwich it between a music stand and a chair to keep it up right. I also couldn't find my third tripod in the rush to get out of the car, so I used a music stand to hold my Yongnou flash. Since Jared was sitting down, it was high enough it worked.

The last shot we hurriedly set up the lights as the organist was rushing us out. I switched to my 70-200mm for this shot and got low on the stage. We quickly got our stuff out of the concert hall so the organist could record.

I would rather work having more time and options, but I like knowing that I can work with so little.

On-the-fly Lighting Demonstration

2011-12-06T21:33:00.001+05:30

I tend to move fast and light. Discussing our approaches to photography a while back, Casey Brooks and couldn't be more different when it comes to equipment. I carry everything in a backpack, using what I can for light stands, light modifiers, and scrims. Casey said, "I like to work out of a truck." She has a lot of equipment, and it's awesome! I wish I had all everything she has. But we made very different choices after we graduated school. She has worked to establish herself in the fashion photography world, and she's killing it! She continues to pump out amazing project after amazing project; continually getting better. I moved myself all the way across the world, working mostly on my own and on the fly.

In college we were not really taught anything about lighting with off-camera speedlite flashes; so I spent a lot of time playing and figuring out how it works. Messing around is the best way for me to learn new ways of doing things, but also reading blogs like David Hobby's The Strobist helped to inspire me.

Sikkim, India (December 2009)

I started traveling with the Orbis Ring Flash, and it became an invaluable part of my photography set up. By using it as an off camera diffused light and holding it away from the camera it helped me create these travel portraits.

In the past year, maybe two, I have done the great majority of my photoshoots using only off-camera speedlites. They are easily modified and easily moved. It's quick set up and take down. With proper modifiers you can make the quality of light almost anything you want. There are of course down sides, but you learn to work around them.

My former professor of photography, friend, and (for a brief time) former boss, Rob Curfman asked me to come do a presentation for his Photo Illustration class at Indiana Wesleyan University. I always love an opportunity to meet up with Curfman.

He asked me to give a presentation on off-camera lighting to his class that has been experimenting with these techniques. I am really glad he has added this to his course, it will prepare his students much better for working in real life situations. That being said, the world of "strobist" photography has changed drastically in the three years since I've been in school.

The class steps out into the cold yet beautiful late afternoon light to experiment with a few different lighting techniques. I start with the built-in Canon E-TTL wireless system (Nikon CLS equivalent) which uses a Canon Speedlite 580EXII as a master commander unit and 430EXII's as slave units. From the 580EXII you can control different groups of slave flashes through the infrared signal. I point the 580's flash head directly at the 430's receiver to maximize the reliability (especially since we're shooting outside in direct sunlight). If you have gaffer's tape it's a great idea to use it to block the sun from hitting the infrared sensor by taping a "flag" on the sun side.

With a student acting as my light stand I have him hold the flash high on camera left. When hand-holding off-camera flashes, people have a tendency to hold it at chest level. This casts very unnatural shadows on the subject, as most light comes from above. Start with the safe position of 45º to the side and 45º above the subject. From there you can experiment and change the light as much as you can imagine.

f/2.8, 1/800th, ISO 100. Bare Speedlite 430exII in E-TTL mode off camera left, fired as a slave to the Speedlite 580exII on my camera pointed directly at the 430exII and not striking the subject at all.

Here we are experimenting with light position. Mixing flash with a good ambient exposure works in this example. The ambient light on the model's face still shows enough details, and the sun's highlight along with the flash fired from behind the model's position highlight the structure of his face. Also, keep in mind to keep the flash high or you'll get a very distracting shadow cast from the model's shoulder.

f/2.8, 1/800th, ISO 100. Bare Speedlite 430exII in E-TTL mode off camera right.

Multiple flashes can be expensive with 580's running $425 and 430's running $270. There are cheaper options for quick and easy lighting solutions. One of the best multi-use tools is a 5-1 collapsible reflector. For under $50 you have a lightweight tool that you can carry with you easily that is extremely powerful in the variety of what it can accomplish.

f/2.8, 1/320th, ISO 100

This example shows the difference between using a reflector and not. I used the silver side and brought it in close to the model. The reflector reflecting sunlight back onto the model acts like any other light source. The closer to the subject the softer the light and the brighter the light (the inverse square law is still in effect). You can use the reflector in any number of positions to create different light effects. Here I use it as the key light. I keep it high, to emulate natural light. Again, with reflectors people have a tendency to keep them at chest level which gives an unnatural light, lighting under the nose and casting strange shadows. If you're using the reflector as a fill light, though, it is perfectly fine to come in from below to fill in the dark shadows.

Another way to use the 5-in-1 reflector is stripping off the outer cover to reveal the white, translucent center. Again using Canon E-TTL wireless system I trigger the 430EXII, but this time I have the reflector between the flash and the subject. The reflector spreads out the harsh light coming from the tiny flash head and enlarges it to the size of the reflector, in this case 42 inches. This softens the light and gives it a really nice quality (a very cheap softbox). Remember to keep the flash head far enough away from the reflector that the light is hitting the entire surface of the reflector. If the flash is too close, you are only enlarging the source of light by a few inches.

f/2.8, 1/320th, ISO 100

The last demonstration I did was to show how to use radio slaves. I use the Paul C Buff CyberSync system, which I have talked about before. I shot these with bare speedlites just in the name of time. The light is a bit harsher than I wanted for these shots, but we were losing the sunlight. In the shot below, a negative of the speedlite can be seen in the photo below...the nose casting a harsh shadow across the model's cheek. This shot says to me, it was shot with a speedlite. I did not use any fill to minimize that effect either. To camera left and behind the subject is a second flash showing some details on the shadow side.

In the last photo I changed the position of the keylight, added a fill on camera left to minimize the harsh shadows, and sent my accent light as far away as he could go. The purpose of this shot is to show one of the key advantages of radio slaves over the E-TTL wireless system: distance. the E-TTL system is limited to about 30 feet. It is difficult to get a reliable result any further than that. With the CyberSyncs I was able to get the flash to fire from 150 yards (the student holding the light was standing next to the building in the background, shown in the red circle below.

I had a blast showing the students the different techniques, and stayed and talked for a couple of hours. It's always encouraging when students are engaged and asking questions. This relatively new form of photography is only going to continue to grow. I'm glad to see the students latching onto it.

Major Taylors Skate Park

2011-11-17T22:48:00.001+05:30

Chuck jumping a barrel. f/5, 1/400th of a second (not fast enough to prevent motion blur). Speedlite 580EXII on camera acting as a master unit controlling the Speedlite 430EXII camera right set at 1/2 power.

On a Saturday about a month back I had spent the day scouting locations for the running shoot I published of two runners. After finding the suitable locations for the running shoot I had wanted to go back to Major Taylors Skate Park, near Marian College in Indianapolis. I had photographed this skate park about a year and half before in the post titled, "Drive By Shooting", and I wanted to catch some more skaters in action.

I like to be an active person and I want my photographs to reflect that. I love shooting rock climbing and skiing because I'm an active member of those communities, but I just want to cover everything active. I am not a skate boarder, or a runner for that matter, but I definitely respect those communities.

f/5, 1/500th @ ISO 320

f/5, 1/500th @ ISO 320. Speedlite @ 1/2 power camera right.

Making Art. f/5, 1/500th @ ISO 320. Speedlite @ 1/2 power camera right.

f/5, 1/500th @ ISO 320. Speedlite @ 1/2 power camera right.

Add caption

Miles Jones ripping it up. f/5, 1/320th @ ISO 320. Speedlite @ 1/2 power camera right. Lesson in motion: Catch the subject at the apex of the flight; here is when they are traveling the slowest. If they were purely going straight up then down then at the Apex velocity = 0.

f/5, 1/320th @ ISO 320.

f/5, 1/320th @ ISO 320. Speedlite @ 1/2 power camera left.

Jordan Mouning inaugurating the new graffiti. f/5, 1/200th @ ISO 320. Speedlite @ 1/2 power camera left. Yongnou Speedlite YN-560 set on the ramp. Because this flash operates as an optical slave and will not high-speed sync, I had to lower my shutter speed to 1/200th.

Rocktoberfest 2011

2011-11-10T21:02:00.000+05:30

Jonathan Mitchell working through Paradise Lost, 5.13a, Purgatory, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky

What's better than beer at Octoberfest? How about beer and rock climbing? Every year for the first weekend of October hundreds of climbers descend upon Red River Gorge, Kentucky to celebrate Rocktoberfest. Red River Gorge offers some of the best overhanging sport climbing in the country and climbers come from all over the world to climb here. I went down by myself to meet up with as many climbers as I could. The first day I wound up at Purgatory in the PMRP with a rag tag group of climbers from all over the country (and world). John Sites, of Louisville, worked his way up Dracula 5.13b, to hang my fixed rope.

This was my first opportunity to try out my new Black Diamond Bosun's Chair! Ascending the fixed rope I test out the seat: 1000x more comfortable than my ten year old BD Harness. No longer am I losing circulation in my legs; I am sitting on a padded plank with a bit of a backrest. I attach another line to my harness and one of the climbers below ties it to a rock. This allows me to stabilize myself and keep myself from spinning freely. Otherwise I'm constantly twisting my body trying to stay in position to shoot as I spin like a top. I'm slowly figuring out what works best for these shoots.

From this position I can see Lucifer 5.14c (which I shot Neal Sipahimalani on back in June), The Castle Has Fallen 5.13b, and Paradise Lost 5.13a. The climbers take turns attempting the right two routes, Castle and Paradise.

Jonathan Mitchell working through Paradise Lost, 5.13a, Purgatory, PMRP, Red River Gorge,

Kentucky. I love how his body's shape mirrors the rocks he's on.

Click Here for the rest of the photos and the story.

Jonathan Mitchell working through Paradise Lost, 5.13a, Purgatory, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky

Vian Charbonneau prepares to move through the top crux of The Castle Has Fallen, 5.13b, Purgatory, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky

Martin Trtilek, from the Czech Republic, powers through the traverse on Paradise Lost 5.13a, Purgatory, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky.

Nathan Rasnick takes his time on Paradise Lost 5.13a, Purgatory, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky.

If you want to find climbers in the Red you head to Miguel's Pizza. You'll find them camping out, eating delicious pizza or cooking on a camp stove, and slacklining to pass the time between climbs. In the morning at Miguel's I had met a group of climbers from Spain that appeared to be super strong. Turns out that two of them, Pablo Barbero and Pablo Beltran, are firefighters that climb 5.14's regularly. They tell me to meet them at Drive-By Crag in the afternoon. Despite it being October the temperatures are in the 80's, and they do not want to climb in the sun. With the heat and humidity, the friction of the rock is not ideal for climbing hard routes. Ideally you'd want it about 20º cooler.

By the time I get off my perch at Purgatory and hike to Drive-By, there is not a lot of light left. Pablo Barbero is just jumping on Kaleidoscope 5.13c, so I don't have time to get a position off of the ground. I was really hoping to shoot more, especially in some different areas other than Purgatory.

Pablo Barbero hangs on through the top crux of Kaleidoscope, 5.13c, Drive-By Crag, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky

Saturday at Rocktoberfest is the main event. Hundreds of climbers compete in an outdoor climbing competition at the Motherlode and other areas off of the Sore-Heel parking lot. It would have made sense for me to be there to photograph as much as possible, but of course, I got sidetracked. Neal was attempting God's Own Stone at the Gold Coast on the other side of PMRP (Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve) and I went to capture his efforts.

Jordan Garvey attacking Golden Boy 5.13b, The Gold Coast, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky

Neal Sipahimalani working through God's Own Stone 5.14a, The Gold Coast, PMRP, Red River Gorge, Kentucky

The sun goes down over the red rocks and the autumn leafed trees. Everyone filters into the Rocktoberfest campgrounds for the festivities. You can use a sling shot to shoot water balloons at corporate sponsors' signs for prizes, or try and hit "Idiot Boy" to win $100. You can try to stack milk crates while sitting on top of them for bragging rights.

This guy stacked 22 milk crates, an impressive feat anywhere. But balanced on a piece of plywood feebly leveled on wet grass the crates are never stable.

Protected from a fall by an auto-belay device attached to a crane overhead, participants avoid a painful crash to the ground once their stacking potential reaches it's peak.

Then comes the dyno competition, the highlight of the evening. On a wall made from plywood climbers launch themselves from start holds near the ground and try to reach a range of finishing holds at the top. Not all make it, and others make it look easy.

A bouldering comp competitor fails to grab the finishing hold

Jordan Garvey attemps to grab the sloper finishing holds.

Frank Cleveland of Fishers, Indiana wins the dyno comp by sending this problem, with the

finishing holds the blue and read slopers.

Overall Rocktoberfest was a good time, but I didn't really shoot as much as I would have liked. And honestly, I don't know when I will be able to spend more time in Red River Gorge. But soon I will have all of Colorado before me.

Broderick Running Shoot

2011-11-05T03:24:00.000+05:30

For a while I have wanted to do a shoot with Broderick, and finally our schedules aligned. I had scouted out this location a while back and knew exactly what I wanted. Because the short notice of the shoot I wasn't able to get an assistant, but I was wanting to do a much more natural light looking shoot this time anyway. It always helps to have another set of hands though, but I'm used to working on my own. I guess sometimes when I have help I'm not the greatest at delegating tasks to others.

Click here to see more photos from the shoot!

We started shooting sometime between 4:30 and 5, just about perfect like for this time of year. The dried grass, the fall leaves, and the warm light really gave the feel of what I was wanting.

I love shooting into the sun. Gives a great quality to the photograph, almost dream like.

Broderick was a great model, running back and forth repeatedly so I get could all of the shots that I imagined.

I added a single speedlite on a tripod opposite the sun to fill in the shadow side. Since I wanted to be shooting at shutter speeds fast enough to stop the action my only choice was to use High-Speed Sync.

At 1/200th of a second, the flash sync speed of the Canon 5DMkII, you will have a significant amount of blur if your subject is moving at any speed at all. I was finding blur even up through 1/500th of a second. At 1/800th Broderick was sharp enough.

I cannot do High-Speed Sync through my CyberSync radio slaves, so I had to use my 580 EX II as a master and my 430 EX II as the slave (limiting me to one usable off-camera flash). I set my 580 to not fire, only to set off the 430. You have to make sure the Infrared Receiver on the slave unit is not pointed at the sun or it will not detect the signal from the master. There are ways to help it avoid the sun, like using gaffer's tape to make a shield, but I, of course, had none.

Just as I was packing up because the sun was too low, I saw this opportunity. I set the flash almost directly in front of Broderick to fill in his front. With the shutter speed of 1/100th, I panned with him as he ran past to give the background some good motion blur. Besides some running technique that a few people have mentioned, this was exactly the shot I was looking for. That's all you can ask for in a shoot.

Broderick stretching after his "strenuous" run.

It's been great shooting this fall. I've got a lot more to edit and show, and I need to update my website pretty bad. But these frequent photo shoots are keeping my heart happy.

National Geographic Traveller (UK)

2011-10-30T05:33:00.002+05:30

Exciting news. I recently had a photo from the 2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race featured in the November/December issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). Sadly, it's not available in the US, but they sent me a couple of copies for my records. I'm elated to have my photo published in the National Geographic family of publications.

I've been doing a lot of photoshoots recently, so when I get time to post I will have a lot to show you. So happy to be shooting regularly again.

Running Shoot Behind the Scenes Video

2011-10-21T06:50:00.001+05:30

My friend Chris Whonsetler helped me out with my recent running shoot, but not only did her assist, he also filmed what was going on. He put together this awesome behind the scenes video that got featured on the website Fstoppers.com last week.

Enjoy, and check out Chris's other work on his Portfolio Website.

Running with D. Scott Clark from Christopher Whonsetler on Vimeo.

Running

2011-10-11T05:49:00.000+05:30

I feel that saying that it has been too long since I posted is getting cliché. Working a full time, 40 hrs a week job and trying to keep up with all the other activities that I do makes it difficult to update this thing. I am definitely thankful for my temporary job with a government contractor, but I will be thrilled when it is over at the end of this month. I'm prepping to move out to Colorado, and getting nervous about it. I know it's the right move for my career though.

A couple of weeks ago I was able to throw together a shoot with two long distance runners (Both of them just ran the Chicago Marathon yesterday). This shoot came about through the extremities of my network. I'd been trying to put together a running shoot for a while.

Click the HERE to continue reading and to see the rest of the images.

I spent all day Saturday scouting locations, and finally came across the right place. Sunday morning before dawn I met the runners, Amy and Jennifer, in the parking lot; my first time meeting both of them. My friend and fellow photographer Chris Whonsetler met me to help out and to do some behind the scenes video (which hopefully will come out eventually). I gratefully had two more people helping me with lighting as well. (I'm so used to doing everything myself. It's great having assistants, but I need to learn to delegate better).

As the sun started to nip the tops of the trees we started shooting. I knew I was going to need to do multiple exposures to light the background because the sun still was not yet filtering through the trees, and I was using multiple strobes to light the scene. I shot my White Lightning X3200 monolight through my 36" brolly box (a cheap alternative to a soft box) and used two speedlites for additional light. The brolly box gives a nice large soft light, as opposed to the speedlites' harsh light. I also brought along my new Yongnou YN560 flash, which for around $70 is an awesome piece of photo equipment. I will do a review soon.

Using strobes for action photography gives some unique challenges. My camera, the Canon 5D Mark II, only syncs flash up to 1/200th of a second. Any faster than that and the shutter closes before the flash has lit the entire scene, causing part or the entire image to remain dark. Action shot at 1/200th of a second will result in blurry subjects. For a runner you would need to shoot at 1/500th or faster to completely freeze them. There are a few different solutions to this problem.

One is using the Canon High Speed Sync built into the Speedlites and wirelessly tripping the strobes via the Infrared signal. Advantages are that ability to use High Speed Sync as well as E-TTL metering (meaning the camera determines the correct output for the flash). Disadvantages: you lose a flash as one has to be on the camera, acting as the master and sending the signal to the other flash (or flashes). Also, Speedlites have a very hard time overpowering the sunlight, and shooting in High Speed Sync you lose power from the flashes.

A better solution is using the PocketWizards FlexTT5 system that allows for high speed sync but is not limited by line-of-sight problems of infrared. But you still do not have enough power to really overcome the sun. Big negative is the price. To get the setup I need I'll spend roughly $660 for a two flash set up.

The method I used was to shoot dark, underexposing the background. The flash duration is so short it will stop almost any type of action; the problem lies with the ambient light catching the blur. So if you cut out the ambient light and only use the flash to light the scene the subject will be sharp. I then take other exposures with the ambient light correctly exposed and blend the shots together in post.

One thing to think about for the future is whether or not the property you are shooting on is private or public. Some private properties require you to purchase photography permits. After the first couple of locations a police officer on a golf cart rolled up and asked us if we had a permit to shoot on this property. Since I was shooting with professional equipment I needed to have a permit. But the officer gracefully let me continue when I promised that this was only for my portfolio and I would not be making any money off of these photos. He told me to get a permit next time. I am very thankful he allowed me to continue; the shoot would have been much much shorter and less productive.

I was finished, done with everything I wanted to do. I had everything packed up and we were heading back to the vehicles. But we reached this spot and the light was too perfect. I'm so glad that I stopped. I love the simplicity of shooting all natural in amazing ambient light.

Thank you so much to Jennifer and Amy for their patience and willingness to try whatever I suggested, as well as my assistants, Chris, Poe, and Ian. I am looking forward to doing much more of these types of shoots.

Gillian Grassie

2011-09-06T21:50:00.000+05:30

It has been forever. Sorry guys, this last month has been busy. It seems that after a slow summer a lot of things are happening now. Fall has always been my favorite season. The temperature is getting cooler, and I feel like breaking out of the funk.

A couple of weeks ago my friend Gillian Grassie came to visit. She's a singer/songwriter/harpist that I met in Mumbai in 2009. She was travelling around the world studying the impact of technology in different music culture on the Watson Fellowship. She travelled with a full size celtic harp. I thought it was tough for me to travel with all my photo gear! After a broken harp case, getting robbed in Russia, and leaving her harp with friend's in Germany, she made it back to the States a year later. You should check out her music at www.gilliangrassie.com. She's recording a new album this winter, so be sure to check her out.

Gillian came to play a show in Bloomington as part of a short tour including Illinois, Minnesota, and Canada. I suggested that we throw together a shoot before her show, and she happily agreed. We went to a factory I'd always been interested in exploring. It turned out to be a great location and exactly what I was looking for.

Since the shoot came about last minute I didn't have time to find an assistant. I ended up shooting the whole thing with two flashes, and I was the second light stand. I would set up the shot, fix the focus, press the shutter with the camera set to 10 second timer, then run around like a madman after each shot to light something different. It was a fun experiment in seeing what I could achieve in a short amount of time by myself, but I would highly recommend using an assistant. Would make the job mucho más fácil. But it allowed me to put together this fun behind the scenes shot.

I've got a lot of shoots I need to do this fall. I'm looking for athletes to photograph: runners, yoga, kayakers, sailers, wake boarders, mountain bikers and parkour. Well, basically any outdoor sports. If you have any suggestions for athletes, please let me know. Thanks!

Warrior Dash

2011-08-15T03:45:00.001+05:30

I've been extremely busy since getting back from Outdoor Retailer in Salt Lake City. I had a great time out there with good friends, met new friends, and established some great connections with companies. This week has been hectic, and finally today I had time to sit down and catch up on some stuff.

Yesterday my friends and I participated in the Indiana edition of Warrior Dash, a 3.1 mile run through hills, creeks, and mudpits, and over cargo nets and other obstacles. It was a blast. I'm not much of a runner, but I'm pretty happy with my 11 minute miles.

I came out looking like a creature from the black lagoon.

I walked around taking portraits of other runners at the event.

More photos inside the post. Click on the link below.

This is Mark before the race. He was much muddier afterwards.

Digging through my portfolio

2011-07-26T08:51:00.001+05:30

I'm currently putting a portfolio together to show at the Outdoor Retailer Tradeshow and PDN's Outdoor Photography Photography Expo next week in Salt Lake City. While digging through new and old shoots I came across one of my favorite shoots from last year in a skate park in Indianapolis. I just felt like re-sharing a couple portraits.

Extreme Conditions

2011-07-24T21:15:00.001+05:30

I know I've posted this photo before, but I was looking at it at 100% and wanted to share. The athletes in the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race endured unthinkable hardships to complete the race. On the biking section the first day of the race they faced gusts up wind up to 70mph that pelted them with rocks and debris and threatened to carry their bikes away. In the clost up photo you can see the rocks flying through the air. That's full size gravel, not just small pebbles. I was also getting pelted in the back of the head while capturing this. Ahh, I can't wait for next year!

Neal Sipahimalani on Lucifer - 5.14c

2011-07-10T01:55:00.000+05:30

A couple of weeks ago I went down to Red River Gorge to photograph Neal Sipahimalani on his attempts to send Lucifer, a super steep and crimpy 5.14c in Purgatory, PMRP. He's been working on it for a while and made some good progress, but after three attempts it didn't go for him this time. It's frustrating knowing you can make all the moves, but piecing them together it just doesn't seem to fall into place.

Neal Warms up before attacking Lucifer.

More Photos and story after the break!

Matt Morse, Neals belayer, warms up on an 5.11 at Purgatory.

Two climbs over from Lucifer, Eric Lemieux from Montreal sends his first 5.13a, Paradise Lost. He had been working on it for a week, with some 17 attempts.

Eric Lemieux on Paradise Lost, his first send of a 5.13.

Neal and Matt watch as Eric climb Paradise Lost.

To get up to a position in which to shoot Neal climbing on Lucifer, Neal had to take my rope to the top of Dracula, a 5.13b. There was no possibility that I could climb that. He attaches my rope to the anchors and I ascend up. But it doesn't quite get me into the position I want to be in, so I climb up onto the ledge. This is nothing but choss. I pull off loose rock after loose rock, and break several holds I attempted to grab. Finally I find good enough holds and I place a couple of camalots so that I can position myself higher than the route's anchors. I make sure everything is doubled up, bringing the two cams' quickdraws to one point on the rope. If either of the cams fail, the other will catch. And if both fail I will fall...10-15 feet and be caught by the anchors. My friend Leigh climbs up to get some video of Neal climbing. He didn't enjoy the ascent.

Retrieving my gear the next day was an adventure.

LP Designs

2011-07-09T22:45:00.000+05:30

I met Lorry at a party several weeks back, and we talked about collaborating on a shoot. Lorry is a fashion designer and a seamstress. She brought over some of her designs, and we were able to do a simple set up in my current house, which has walls painted several different colors. The shoot went great, and we survived the heat outside to get some great shots in my backyard.

More photos after the break!

New Design

2011-07-09T09:20:00.004+05:30

Hey guys, I'm working with a new design for the blog, if you haven't noticed. It's still a work in progress, but let me know what you think. I want to hear it. The basic reason behind the redesign is I want to include larger photos. The old design limited my photos to 600px. The new one will have images 800px wide. Hope you enjoy it.

2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race - Part I: The Beginning

2011-07-04T23:58:00.002+05:30

*note: This blog post has six segments. At the end of each page, click "older posts" or the orange link "THE STORY CONTINUES WITH MORE PHOTOGRAPHS IN THE NEXT POST."

Teams portage over a falls in the kayaking section on the first day of the 2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race.

I never expected to be in southern Patagonia. I have always dreamt of coming, but I wanted to learn Spanish before I traveled South America.

Don't stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>

Fortunately, I was at the Outdoor Retailer Trade Show when I found out I won a National Geographic photo contest, with the grand prize of being an official photographer for the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race in Southern Patagonia. Most companies that do any business regarding outdoor life in North America descend upon Salt Lake City’s Salt Palace and strut their stuff, showing off their specialized products – the next big thing – to potential vendors such as REI. I connected with Wenger, the title sponsor of the adventure race, who informed me about what I would be doing, and connected me with Michael Clark and Tony Hoare, two photographers who have covered the race in the past. They gave me a clearer idea of what I would be doing for the race, and what I needed to take – both with photo equipment and technical gear. I was then able to procure much the technical gear I needed for “testing and review”.

From the moment I found out I had won the photo contest and was heading to Patagonia I had less than two weeks to put everything together. Not only did I have to acquire equipment, but I also had to find someone to cover my classes at Indiana Wesleyan University and get approval from the school that I could take the two weeks off.

Arrival
Going through customs in Santiago a couple I have seen before comes up in line behind me. I recognize Chelsea and Jason from the Yogaslackers; I saw them at the Outdoor Retailer Trade Show about a week before showing off their skills performing yoga while balancing on a slackline. The rest of team GearJunkies.com meet us at the elevators, along with T.C. Worley, one of the photographers for the race. It can be nice seeing familiar faces in a far and distant land.

Set up comfortably in a hostel room and fed “Authentic Peruvian Cuisine”, I go to the race office to find out what is in store for the next two weeks. The office is situated in a common looking house behind a gate with a sign, “No Racers Allowed.” Inside, the house is abuzz with activity, everyone walking on top of each other to get their jobs done. The hallways are too small for two people to pass each other, and people spill out into the back yard, organizing equipment and preparing food for the checkpoints on the race.

Teams have to go through an equipment check to show the race organizers they have everything they need. Most of the teams were extremely disorganized with their equipment spread out all over the shed, but Brazil's Selva NSK Kailash, all ex-military, were decidedly different in their organization.

The teams also had to have their skills checked in kayaks. They had to paddle out, capsize their boats and correct themselves while the Navy made sure no one died.

Traditional dancers give the teams a spectacular send-off from Punta Arenas.

Sunday night everyone involved with the race and all of the racers congregate in the ballroom of a local casino for the opening ceremony. After a presentation of traditional dancers in the central plaza Monday afternoon, we load up on busses and drive for two hours to Torres del Paine, the start of the race. As we put more distance between Punta Arenas and ourselves, the mountains continue to grow larger.

Our first views of Torres del Paine.

The rickety bridge over Rio Baguales is far too small for our passenger busses to squeeze through, so we must disembark and reload on smaller vans that clear the sides of the bridge by mere inches. The vans pull onto the road to Hotel del Torres, and gauchos on horses, wooping and hollering as they gallop alongside, escort us to the hotel. The log cabin hotel sits majestically on a plain with Torres del Paine as a towering white and black backdrop. Over an open fire a sheep is spun on a rotisserie, and an old gaucho plays guitar as a young man sings traditional Chilean songs. The race teams from all over the world and support staff mingle about in the unseasonably warm night, enjoying their last night of comfort before pushing themselves to their limits starting the next day.

Gauchos escorting the teams into Hotel Las Torres

She smiles at me slyly as I walk by, the beautiful girl in the golden scarf. I return with a shy smile as I pass by. Then again, as I look in her direction, she sends me a very pointed smile. Third time’s a charm. I walk over and join her on the hay bale, “Enjoying yourself?” I ask. Marie from Boston volunteers at the Torres del Paine national park so that she can hike the circuit for free. She’s traveling in South America for close to a year, and will be here (South America) till sometime in the summer concentrating on learning Spanish. “We’re having a bonfire tonight, you should come join us tonight,” she says. I find Nathan walking through the dark back to camp. “You want to go with me to a bonfire?” I ask. “What’s there?” “Girls.” “I’m in!” We wonder through the dark woods along a path past Chileans campsite, looking closer at every campfire till we find a group of twenty or so circled around a fire drinking boxed wine. This must be the one. I see the golden scarf reflect off the fire and head in. Nathan has to leave to get sleep for the race in the morning, but Marie asks me to stay. We talk about life over red plastic cups of red wine, with the hum of the party and Chileans playing guitar and singing in the background. The hum is in French and Spanish and Turkish and some English. It’s one of those unreal moments when traveling around the world, congregating around a fire with people you barely know from so many other countries, but no one cares; everyone is best friends. I lean over and tell Marie, “I really have to go to sleep so I will have some energy to photograph the race tomorrow. It was so great to meet you.” She sweetly replies, “We will meet later in life. Take care.” I hope so.

Race Day 01: Tuesday, February 8th
“Where are the bikes?” Nothing ever goes smoothly. The bikes were supposed to show up during the night, but none were on site by the official starting time of 7:30am. The truck driver bringing the bike boxes got to the tiny bridge and couldn’t find the transfer trucks, so he just went to sleep. Teams putting together their bikes as they arrive one pickup truck at a time cover the lawn of the hotel. The start time is pushed back two hours, which throws off all the timings of the rest of the race.

Once the bikes arrive in the boxes, the teams have to put the pieces together.

The gauchos on horseback start off the race, leading the fourteen teams of four on their bikes down the dirt road. The photographers and video crew run to the awaiting pickup trucks. Hanging on as best we can in the backs of the trucks we bump our way past all the teams.

Racers reach a traffic jam traveling across a small bridge near the start of the race.

Daniel Staudigel and Jason Magness (US, Team GearJunkies.com) pushing through the pain.

A lone guanaco watches the racers struggle to gain elevation on the road from Torres del Paine.

This is how we travel, crammed in like cattle, holding on for dear life.

The driver of our vehicle can’t seem to understand the concept that we want to take photos of the teams from in front of the bikers, rather than only getting butt shots from behind. And he stalls the truck every ten minutes or so. To top it off we get a flat tire about 1/3rd the way through the biking section and are stuck till it is changed.

A guanaco looks watches us change the tire on our truck as racers pass us.

The landscape passing by the teams is unbelievably beautiful: deep turquoise lakes surrounded by steep, snow capped peaks and blue, cracked glaciers slowly making the lakes deeper. Around each turn you see something even more incredible. Wind passing between the peaks comes in powerful gusts, sometimes picking up dust, water, stones and anything else it can carry. Before you can even see a lake you know its coming by the water-spray on your face.
One of these gusts of wind, full of dust and rocks, blows teams off of their bikes. Team Four Continents was picked up by the wind and dropped meters away - Paulette Kirby’s (US) front wheel getting bent almost beyond usability - and most of the team received road rash. The Dancing Pandas and Perdido en el Turbal dive over the bank of the road and hide behind cars to avoid getting pelted by flying stones. The air, thick with dust in the warlike scene, eventually clears and the sunny blue skies shine over the race once again.

Gusts of wind up to 70mph come sweeping between the mountains and over the lakes. The wind picked up rocks and debris, nocking the teams from their bikes.

The teams push through the mountains and finish the biking section on an open, grassy plain that leads to Lago Grey, the glacier melt of Glacier Grey. I have been running back and forth on the course in the back of a truck, trying to capture as much of the race as I can. The driver drops video guys and photographers off at spaced intervals, promising to return later to pick us up. Finding out that the kayak section has been delayed because of high winds, the teams are able rest while they pack away their bikes.

CLICK ME!! The story continues with more photographs in the next post.

2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race - Part II: Kayaking

2011-07-04T23:57:00.006+05:30

After an hour delay, the teams are sent off into Lago Grey in their two-man kayaks with spaced intervals. In the confusion of the delay I am told, with all of my baggage for the whole race, go to the beach. Then on the beach, with all of my baggage for the whole race, “Why are you here? The trucks are waiting in the parking lot for you. Hurry or they’ll leave without you.”

Members of team Adidas TERREX/Prunesco from the UK prepare for the 47 kilometer kayaking section

Noel Duffy (Australia) from team Dancing Pandas checks his gear before starting off with his team in kayaks.

Don't stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>

“Are we going to the boats or to the pass?” the media team asks the driver. “I’m supposed to drop some of you off at the pass, then others at the bridge. After all the teams have past, I’ll take you to the boats.” But this means all of the photographers and most of the video guys wind up on the same boat, meaning we all covered the same teams.

I climb into a two-seat "cable car", which I assume was the only way to get across the river before the bridge was constructed. From this vantage point I could see the kayakers coming around the river bend with a beautiful view of the snow-capped mountain in the background. But the teams pass on the opposite of the river, too far to get a close shot. The truck finally comes back and takes us to the staging area for the zodiac boats.

T.C. Worley, a photographer and writer from Minnesota, enjoys looking like an orange marshmallow in our dry suits.

Orange jumpsuits. Waterproof dry suits. I feel like a marshmallow. We load onto the zodiac, which seems to purposefully take the turns as tight as it can, spraying water all around. We catch up first to the Japanese team as they paddle through the milky green-blue glacier-melt water with the Cordillera del Paine dominating the background. The paddling section doesn't seem technically challenging, more of an endurance test, which is split by a 100-meter portage around a large, powerful rapid. The teams finish the first kayaking at an unassuming spot on the side of the river, where the second checkpoint is set up.

Team East Wind from Japan enjoys their paddling session.

Members of Team East Wind pull their kayak through the portage that bypasses a very large and impressive waterfall/rapid.

Jorge Cifuentes (Chile, Todo Aventura - La Segunda) Helps his teammate pull their kayak through the mandatory portage.

GearJunkies.com pulls through the final legs of the first kayaking portion of the race.

Were everything to operate smoothly, the teams' gear for trekking and food would be waiting at this checkpoint. But nothing goes as planned. The first few teams decide to face the jungle in the night without receiving their food or other gear, though the gear arrives only ten minutes later.

Teams organize their gear before they embark on the massive trekking section

Fiona Spotswood (UK, Team Addidas TERREX / Prunesco) prepares to start on the trek.

Peter Spagnoli and Mark Lattanzi (US, Team Dancing Pandas) pull their kayak onto the shore

Chelsey Gribbon (US, Team Gear Junkies) takes time from organizing her gear for the trek

Kay Waki (Japan, East Wind) helps to pull her kayak up the river bank.

Stiven Vunic (Croatia, Ad Natura - Karibu) Helps his teammates pull their boat onto the river bank before taking off on their trek.

Marcelo Sinoca (Brazil, Selva NSK Kailash) pulls their boat ashore.

Ricardo de Silva (Brazil, Selva NSK Kailash) never failed to have a huge smile on his face.

Tim Kuenster (US, Perdido en el Turbal) stars off on the trekking section, walking with little rest for 73kms through unimaginably impassible wilderness.

Melissa Griffiths and Jason Urckfitz (UK, US, Perdido en el Turbal) start on the trekking section.

Arnaud Marchand and Tony Hoare enjoy a break from photographing the race, just long enough they can get some food in them.

With the trekking underway, the media team rushes to jump to checkpoints ahead in the race. Photographers Tony Hoare, Yosuke Kashiwakura , and I are delivered to Checkpoint 4, hours behind schedule. We had planned on hiking to PC3 and camping, but we didn't arrive at PC4 until after 12:00 am. And hiking into unknown terrain in the middle of the night didn't excite any of us.

CLICK ME!!! The story continues with more photographs in the next post.

2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race - Part III: Trek

2011-07-04T23:57:00.005+05:30

Race Day 02. Wednesday February 9th

I wake up, miraculously on my own, at 5:30 and get the others up, ready to go. The light slowly illuminates more of the surrounding mountains, but the jungle is still very dark. I had illusions of keeping my feet dry for at least some period of time, but as soon as we leave camp our feet sink into the turba.

Turba, I had the pleasure of finding out, is a multicolored sponge-like substance that blankets all of the ground in this area of Patagonia. It comes in just about every imaginable color, but I saw mostly yellows and reds. You could step on it and sink three inches or up to your waist. It is fully impossible to keep your feet dry while walking through turba. In the higher elevations it is still present, but much more pleasurable to walk on, as it doesn't sink in to your knee with every step.

Don't stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>

Tony Hoare standing in the field of turba, lucky enough to find a semi-solid place to stand.

Tony Hoare and Yosuke Kashiwakura head towards PC3 from PC4.

Ignacio, our guide, was told to follow the river till we reached the lake. He kept the river twenty meters to our left the whole time, as we bushwhacked through the dense jungle. Only later did we find out that beside the river was much easier walking. The sun's orange glow reflects off the snow peaks surrounding us as we cross a waist deep river that empties into the large glacier-melt lake. We climb a twenty-foot bank to reach a large plateau that reaches to the base of the mountains. From the distance it looks like a solid plain, but you must watch your every step because stepping into a "puddle" would leave you up to your chest in water, mud, and turba. As the elevation increases, the ground grows more solid. The pace quickens, and we rush over the rocky ridges. Besides the turba, there's a thick, holly-like bush that we're constantly pulling ourselves through. At certain points, instead of climbing down small cliffs, I find it easier to jump off and land on the bushes (giggling the whole way).

In the distance we see a team approaching. The Brits are cruising, even after a sleepless night of bushwhacking through stupidly dense jungle. Bruce Duncan took a tree branch to the mouth sometime during the night that left his lip very swollen and bloody. But just as fast as they came, they disappeared behind us, flying through the first 70 some kilometer trekking section.

Bruce Duncan's battle wound.

Adidas TERREX / Prunesco keep keeping on towards PC4

We misinterpret the map and the advice that Ignacio received as a "shortcut" and wind up too far up on the wrong side of a river. Finding a relatively easy place to cross with tree supports, the icy cold water only comes to our waists once again.

Perdido en el Turbal (Lost in the turba), a team of mostly Americans, appears as we come to the top of the next ridge and let us know we are a kilometer or two from checkpoint three. Tony, Yosuke and I head off in the direction they pointed.

Tim Kuenster (US, Perdido en el Turbal) on the way to PC4

Small ponds lie between the hills full of turba, which makes marshes of the surrounding areas. We reach a rocky riverbed that makes for easier walking but need to get over the next ridge. I pick a route to the top, using roots to pull my way up. The apex of the ridge is easy walking through an open wood till we come to a point that drops off on three sides. From here we can see the lake, and through the brush we can make out the checkpoint; we've gone past it. Going down over the bushes is much easier; gravity is on our side.

The blue icebergs float on the cloudy water in the midday sun. Teams fight their way through the impossibly thick brush that lines the lake, relieved to take a break on the rocky shore, and they take their wet shoes off to reveal feet wrinkled from being constantly soaked for the last twenty-four hours. The teams have bushwhacked through demanding terrain through the night, barely stopping to rest. But some of the teams look pretty haggard after only the first day; if they are to finish the race they have at least six more days to go.

Noel Duffy (Australia, Dancing Pandas) at PC3

Peter Spagnoli (US, Dancing Pandas) takes a breather before leaving PC3

Kay Waki (Japan, East Wind) holds herself together continues trekking despite having a broken rib.

Dancing Pandas leave PC3

Feet take the brunt of the wear

The checkpoint manager offers me trailmix for lunch that barely satisfies my hunger. But with the last teams are passing through, after a short rest Tony and I head back into the jungle to try to catch up with some teams. Because we did not get to PC3 until noon we will not have time to reach PC5 or PC6 without the risk of falling behind all of the teams. We were told there would be a boat coming at four P.M. that we could take, and we could jump ahead to PC7.

I watch a team take a route up to the ridge that seemed to be in a better direction than the one we came from, so I decide to follow. But once Tony and I get beyond the clearing we come to wall of the prickly bushes. Either we go back and find a new route, or we go up and over. We start pushing through, but soon find ourselves “swimming” over the bushes: our feet not touching the ground, pulling ourselves hand-over-hand, trying to reach the top of the ridge. After an hour we finally break through to the open turba fields. I discover the jungle has stolen several things from my backpack: one glove, one Keen shoe, a Wenger Swiss Army knife, a LightMyFire SpoonForkKnife, numerous plastic Ziplock bags, and a 77mm lens cap.

Team Todo Aventura – La Segunda, from Chile and Argentine, cross through a field of dense brush in the valley below our vantage point and enters another thick forest that delays them several hours. The Croatians unknowingly take advantage of the Chileans mistake and pick a route through the hills with more solid ground, trekking at a quick click. Tony and I leap frog this team till they reach a dangerous river crossing.

Ad Natura - Karibu

Somehow, in a second my head is turned, team captain Elvir Sulic is standing on a boulder in the middle of the river, completely dry. He somehow jumped the large distance from the riverbank to the rock. Dario Rocco jumps but slips off the rock and goes waist deep in the rushing water. The Elvir grabs hold, keeping Dario from going under. He regains his footing and pulls himself onto the large rock. The female team member, Darija Boostjancic, doesn’t try to jump, choosing to wade carefully to the rock with the assistance of all three teammates.

Elvir Sulic keeps Dario Rocco from being swept downstream.

Elvir Sulic and Stiven Vunic help Darija Bostjanicic cross the fast moving stream

Tony wades in and with assistance from Stiven Vunic, the last Croatian team member, he pulls himself onto the boulder. I put my feet into the rushing water, immediately feeling the pull of the current. A few degrees from frozen, my mind pays no attention to the temperature of the water – I’m fully concentrating on getting my equipment and myself safely across the waist deep aquatic onslaught. I grab hold of the boulder and Tony tries to help me up, but my feet are slowly sliding off of submerged stone. I picture my head go under, my camera taking on water. With a renewed burst of energy I lunge onto the rock, and Tony pulls me to safety.

We continue the leapfrog routine through the relatively easy trekking in the spongy, but more firm turba. In the distance behind us we see another team approaching. Tony and I play rock, paper, scissor to determine which one of us will fall back to follow the new team. I get to sit for a bit, setting up a beautiful shot, waiting for the incoming team to move into position. As they approach, I see that it’s the Japanese team, East Wind, which has their own film crew and photographer. With the team in the right position I yell to the film crew to duck out of sight. When they get closer we start playing the leapfrog game, each trying to stay out of the others’ way. It’s pretty apparent from how Yosuke carries himself that he’s exhausted.

Team East Wind

Team East Wind

I run ahead and put my camera away (you can only take so many of the same looking shots). I don’t want to navigate for the team, but I want to stay ahead of them in case I see an incredible shot. And being much fresher than the team who has trekked through the night, I am able to easily keep in front. I come to a cliff line that I don’t remember from the morning, and the valley below looks more familiar. So I double back and go along the valley. East Wind doesn’t follow me; they stay high on the ridge.

I soon find that I did not make the right move. I come to a decision: thick forest versus climbing up a cliff. I attack the cliff, not wanting to spend any more time in the forests than I have to. At the top I can see for miles, but I don’t see the Japanese team ahead of me and I see no teams behind. Exhausted, I take off my shoes and eat a granola bar, needing some fuel to carry me on. I have an hour before the boat is supposed to come to PC4. Hopefully I can get through the lower jungle in time. The Japanese helicopter flies directly overhead, unaware that I’m below them.

With my shoes empty of sticks and stones, I take off feeling somewhat refreshed. I reach the turba filled plateau over the lake, but from a different ridge than we went up in the morning. Crossing the plateau I keep looking back up the ridges to see if there are any more teams visible, but I see no movement at all. I step carefully knowing that one false step will send me chest deep into the muck under the turba.

I reach the last river crossing and pack up my photo equipment to be as waterproof as possible (which is not very), when I hear some noise behind me. Yosuke is meandering around the lake; the Japanese team had left him behind. I was glad to see him because I was not looking forward to finding my way through the thick jungle to PC4 on my own.

We cross the river and enter the jungle near where we had left it earlier that morning, and I head in a direction toward the seashore which will lead us to the checkpoint. We push through trees and bushes, coming to a field with mounds of turba. I decide to see if I can get to a high point for a better look around, but after climbing the tallest mound I find myself up to my chest in dry turba. There is nothing inside the mound except more of the spongy substance. After bushwhacking for a while walking through turba between knee and chest high I can see water ahead, I’ve led us straight to the shore…! Oh no, it’s the river that is the complete opposite direction. Instead of heading in a westerly direction we ended up going due north.

Humans naturally go in circles when walking without reference points. It is something that has been studied for years. Check out this NPR article "A mystery: Why Can't We Walk Straight?". One thing the article doesn't comment on is the fact that all of the subjects seem to circle to their right. I found this to be true, I did a perfect arc to the right that led me directly to the river.

Footprints lined the river; it's apparent that racers had been here, but not having a map I didn't necessarily trust the racers' navigation. I took my compass out and took a reading. I need to go west, southwest. Keep the mountain on my left and the sun over my left shoulder. Alright, lets go….wait. It's 5pm. The sun should be in the northwestern sky. If I'm traveling west it should be in front of me. I check the compass again: mountain on left, sun over left shoulder. This doesn't make any sense. The sun should not be behind me. I give in and follow the mountain, keeping the sun over the back of my left shoulder. I still cannot explain why this worked.

Yosuke offers to lead for a while, as making a path through the brush is extremely exhausting. Sure enough, he starts to make that gradual right arc. It's so easy to do; unless your REALLY paying attention to your reference points you don't even notice. I take the lead again and finally we pop out onto the shoreline only about 300 yards from the checkpoint. Navigation success, though I'm still thoroughly confused by the position of the sun.

No boat is waiting to take us back to Porta Natales, and no boat comes that night. Over the satellite phone the checkpoint manager says one will come the next afternoon. The two main photographers are stuck behind most of the teams, with no prospect to get ahead. The Japanese NHK film crew get out by helicopter, promising to send it back for Tony, Yosuke and I, but it never comes.

A racer airs out their foot at PC4. There's rarely a time in the race that their feet are not wet.

Taz Lawrie (Australia, Four Continents) after his second day in the race.

Since we left the resort at Torres del Paine I had not been fed anything besides chocolate bars and potato chips; two days without real food. Twenty exhausting kilometers later I am overly hungry and tired of eating junk food. I ask the Checkpoint manager for some food and he hands me a candy bar. “I can’t eat this; I need solid food.” I am introduced to pork pâté, a paste of pureed meat that comes out of a plastic tube, usually eaten with crackers. Over the next week I would eat a lot of pâté. (Even now, months later, I sometimes crave the salty goodness).

CLICK ME!!! The story continues with more photographs in the next post.

2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race - Part IV: Trek

2011-07-04T23:56:00.006+05:30

Race Day 03. Thursday, February 10th
In the morning I awake to shouts, "There's a boat!" Everyone is confused; the boat coming for some of the checkpoint workers isn't supped to come till the afternoon. In the confusion only six of us got on the zodiac boat.

Don't stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>

We are taken to a small dock with a catamaran carrying tourists around the fjords. We have to stand outside, there is no room for us to sit, but we're happy to on our way back to Porta Natales. Our guide, Ignacio, tells us that there are no boats from the race to take us on to PC7, but somehow he arranges for a fishing boat to take us. We take a fancy meal - of, how do you say…hot dogs - at the four-star hotel before heading to the boatyard.

I borrowed Yosuke's 15mm fisheye lens. I've got to get me one!

The captain of the boat said he had to run and get something. Two hours later we are creaking out of the harbor in a rickety old fishing boat. "How long should it take?" we ask. "Two hours." Now I know from my past experiences that transportation operators' time estimations are usually exaggerated, but we left at 6pm and did not arrive till after 12:30pm. It doesn't get dark till around 10pm, but when it became dark it became clear what we were doing. The boat did not have any spotlights; the captain did not have any charts, maps, GPS, or depth finders.

The capatain of our small fishing boat.

Tony catches some shut eye in the cramped quarters on our six hour journey

We are purely going off the computer printout of the race map to get to our location through the crazy maze of Patagonian fjords, jutting into the sea like interlocking fingers. In the dark with no moonlight, with much effort you could make out the faint outline of the mountains rising out of the dark water. Tony and take up positions on the prow of the boat straining our eyes to see ahead into the blackness. Suddenly I see a large shape form out of the sea. I yell for the captain to turn towards the starboard, and Tony exclaims, "Iceberg!!!" The form is glowing, reflecting the light of our LED headlamps. The boat slows to a crawl as we search the water for other icebergs. As the shape comes closer we realize it is just a giant rock coming out of the water, there are no icebergs around.

In the distance we see headlamps moving along a ridge. We start flashing our lights back and forth, feigning communication. The lights move towards the shore and the captain aims at the same spot. Ignacio says, "Should we check the GPS?" He had a GPS the whole time and didn't tell anyone. It shows we're about a kilometer and half away from the location of PC7; we had been communicating with a team, not the checkpoint. I'm not sure if they thought we were coming to rescue them or what. We get to where the GPS says the checkpoint is, but we see several different sets of headlamps on the ridges surrounding us, and nothing that looks like a large gathering of tents and people. The captain anchors his boat, and we get into the wooden dinghy we've been dragging with us (that was slowly sinking the entire trip). He drops us on the rocky shore and we debate which way to get around. We take off through the brush, finding that we're walking on top of trees – well, walking is a relative term. We can see the camp, but it's too much effort to continue so we find a way around.

Team Dancing Pandas are sleeping, getting ready to attack the next section. They're in somewhat of a desperate situation; Masha Glanville (Canada) lost some medication in the bushwhacking and needs the meds to continue. They've been told that if they can get to PC8 before the cutoff, they will have her medication, and they can continue on the race. But what they don't know is there's a major river crossing just on the other side of the checkpoint.

Tony prepares his gear and photo equipment for the river crossing, and I plan to capture the team’s unexpected dash into the frigid waters. We're told it’s about chest deep, but the tide has come in so we can’t tell exactly how deep it is, especially in the dark at 2:30 in the morning. I had wanted to take night shots and here was my chance, but I also wanted to finish this section of the trek. I pack up my gear as best as I can without packing my camera and accessories, but not having time to make sure everything is “waterproofed” I am uneasy about the crossing.

The Dancing Pandas roll out of their sleeping bags only two hours after they crawled into them cold, wet, and exhausted. Their heads come together, asking the questions, “Do we continue? Or are we too drained to continue?” Masha excitedly exclaims, “We’re going! Now!” And seemingly before anyone was truly ready, Tony and I included, they take off into the predawn darkness.

Mark Lattanzi and Peter Spagnoli (US, Dancing Pandas) check their gear before setting off for PC8 at 2:30am.

Masha Glanville (Canada, Dancing Pandas) is determined to get to PC8 where she can get her much needed medication.

Noel Duffy and Peter Spagnoli (Australia and US, Dancing Pandas) prepare themselves to do a river crossing, which in the middle of the night has a great possibility of causing hypothermia

The frigid and fast moving current quickly rises to Mark Lattanzi’s chest, and then beyond. His feet leave the bottom, and he swims desperately for the other side, reaching for branches of a downed tree. The three others follow knowing right now it’s their only choice. The checkpoint manager had said, “This is the place to cross, it’s the most narrow,” and the team in their urgency did not take the time to scout out a different point. In the dark there was hardly any point, you couldn’t see to make an informed decision. (In the morning I found that it became more shallow and passable at the mouth where the river dispersed into the lagoon. There the current slows and all the sediment the river has been dragging along gets dropped, leaving a mass more easily walked across.)

The Dancing Pandas, along with Tony Hoare and Ignacio reach the other side after having to swim across the river.

Tony jumps into the water, determined to follow the team to the next checkpoint, despite his gear not being fully waterproofed. The Pandas help to pull him out on the other side.

I yell across, “Is your camera ok?”
“I hope so!” he nervously yells back.
“I don’t think I’m coming! I’m not ready. My bag is not nearly waterproofed enough.”

I watch as their five headlamps trace the contours of the ridge, leading to the pass between the mountains. Further up the ridge other clusters of headlamps head for the pass. When they reach the most difficult section, near the pinnacle of the pass, the run into a traffic jam. Three other teams, the Japanese, *Lost in Turba*, and ** have reached at the same time. Competitiveness goes out the window as the teams help each other climb the steep, rocky slope just as the sun pops up above the horizon.

I return to my “pre-packed” things to find that Yosuke has thoughtfully put them in his tent, solidifying that I am not going to cross the river and follow the last team to pass through PC7. During the night, a rain comes that does not stop for days. Everyone in camp hides away in their tents the whole day, desperate to keep at least somewhat dry. I keep looking over the ridge, regretting not following the Dancing Pandas’ river crossing. Because I did not make it to PC8 I am missing the second kayaking section to PC9, and the beginning of the subsequent long trekking section. I hope that I can catch some more of the race; I feel like I’ve missed so much already.

Race Day 04. Friday February 11th
A helicopter comes to take the Japanese film crew to PC8, landing on the rocky bank of the river. After being quickly loaded, it starts to take off but only gets about twenty feet off the ground. The pilot motions for one passenger to grab his bag and get off; there’s too much weight. An hour later the helicopter returns to pick up the straggler, and he pulls Yosuke on board. Yosuke yells and waves me over. There’s space on board and I can jump ahead to PC8! The aircraft lifts off, and the film crew still stuck at PC7 flip me the bird before they turn and lumber off through the rain.

Shaking and lurching, twisting side to side, the helicopter continues to gain altitude until it’s no longer going up, just twisting and shaking. The pilot lowers the craft to the ground once again. He turns to me, “I’m sorry, you can’t go.” My first time on a helicopter and I only got twenty feet off the ground!

I go moping back to the video guys, Brad and Arnaud, defeated by my failed attempt to escape PC7. I’m stuck, yet again, for multiple days.

A boat appears in the fjord! I am excited to get back to Porta Natales and reconnect with the race teams, but from the boat comes two disqualified teams and the PC6 staff. It’s another fifteen people for PC7 to support and feed, as our foods supplies were running low. Luckily, the PC6 crew brought their leftover food barrels giving us plenty of food to survive another couple of days (Though quality of food is questionable. I hope that, along with logistics for the media, the food is planned out much better next year). The small boat is returning to Porta Natales, but I’m told I cannot go with them because it would take too long. Another boat is apparently coming that can take all twenty-five (or so) of us, but I doubt the expediency of this next crafts coming.

Marcelo Sinoca (Brazil, Selva NSK Kailash) and Soledad Cristiano (Argentina, Todo Aventura - La Segunda) survive despite the unending rain.

"Oop, there's a tooth!" says Taz in the middle of a story. His tooth just popped out, and he picks it up from the ground.

Taz showing off his missing tooth

Paulette Kirby (US) and Andre Vogel (Australia) of Team Four Continents wait to be extracted from PC7 after dropping out of the race due to not making the time cutoffs.

Ricardo da Silva (Brazil, Selva NSK Kailash) waiting in the rain at PC7

Taz Lawrie (Australia, Four Continents), always a great subject to photograph, is an airline pilot in Kazakhstan.

Rose Hoeppner (Brazil, Selva NSK Kailash) takes advantage of the downtime to brush her teeth while still struggling to stay dry.

The Brazilian team, Selva NKS Kailash, made up of ex-military; the Chilean/Argentina team, Todo Aventura - La segunda; and the ragtag Four Continents led by the unique Taz; these teams along with all the support staff for PC6 and PC7 and the small media crew wait in the rain on the rocky, narrow beach of the fjord for boat to come “rescue” us. Taz, despite having endured unimaginable exhaustion and physical strain over the last couple of days, asks if anyone wants to go on an exploration trek around the area just to see what we can find. No one takes him up on his offer. I find him standing next to the river visibly contemplating trying to cross, but he resigns to his tent, taking cover from the onslaught of rain.

Life in the tent. You either sleep or eat, praying the tent doesn't leak. Potato chips...the food staple.

Taz Lawrie waiting out a particularly intense bout of rain.

I hate that I am not on the other side of PC8 and cannot take being cooped up any longer, so I take off into wilds back toward PC6 to explore. I trace the curves of several inlets, splashing through the shin deep water to avoid the impassibly tangled forests. I enjoy my freedom, but I second guess the fact that I did not tell anyone where I was going. I figure, though, from my vantage points I will be able to see the boat coming far before anyone in camp; I will not be left behind. I climb the furthest outcropping visible from camp, maybe a kilometer away as the bird flies. I bound over the turbal and scale the rocky face, just happy to be exerting energy and to not be in a tent. From here I can see miles and miles back along the fjords toward Porta Natales and one thing is clear, there is no boat coming any time soon.

Just before I reach camp I see a scene so perfect, so picturesque I cannot not photograph it. It would be great to have a team splashing through the shallow waters with the mountains and the forest as the backdrop. I wake up Taz, “Hey, you want to get your feet wet? Want to do a photoshoot?” He answers, “I’ll see if the others are up to it.” It takes a while to get Andre out of his sleeping bag, but eventually everyone gets really into pretending they are deep in the wilderness for the photos.

Team Four Continents making bushwacking look easy.

Late in the afternoon the boat finally comes to deliver the weary teams, media and checkpoint staff back to Porta Natales. We enjoy being dry and inside a comfortable cabin for the six-hour ride back. Everyone lays wet clothing and equipment out on the top deck in a desperate attempt to dry them, and the crew put our shoes in the engine compartment thinking the heat will help them to dry. We arrive in Porta Natales, greeted by a hord of journalists snapping photos and filming. I am whisked away and stuffed into a taxi that takes me to a restaurant where much of the staff are eating.

I’m living the good life in the Remota, a four star hotel in Porta Natales. This is in stark contrast to being drenched in the pouring rain for two days, protected only by hardly water-resistant tents. The peculiar building juts out of the hillside as if it were once part of the earth, the roof covered in tall grass and the siding made of aged wood. The lobby is flooded with natural light, and the aged wood styling is repeated throughout the large, multi-level room. The guest rooms are simply decorated, but the geometric shapes of the hotel are repeated throughout, including the bathroom wall that opens up to a large window (great for couples, not so much for three guys in the same room). Dinner is served for all the race volunteers in the hotel, a delicious alternative to all the paté and crackers I have been eating for the past week. The comfortable bed is just as delicious as the meal.

CLICK ME!!! The story continues with more photographs in the next post.

2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race - Part V: Trek

2011-07-04T23:56:00.005+05:30

Race Day 05. Saturday, February 12th
I eat breakfast with Stjepan Pavicic, creator of the race. He asks me, "How do you feel about going up in the helicopter with me?" Well, that would be fantastic. Stjepan, media producer Brien Leittan, and I take off in a small van to a field where the helicopter will come pick us up. Flying around turns on the gravel road the van comes sliding to a halt, missing an unseen oncoming vehicle by merely inches. Both drivers look at each other without any hint of anger, just relief.

The helicopter circles before it lands. Four weary faces look out from the cabin. T.C. Worley, Sam Salwei, and Paul Cassidy had been trekking with the British team, but eventually got left behind. They waited for several days to get picked up, surviving without food or dry clothes. They were taken to PC10 by helicopter where they picked up Jan Villilon, who had been stuck there for days. For some reason Sam and Pauls gear bag was taken off and left at PC10. They didn't get their bag back for over a week after the race was over.

My first views of PC10

My first successful flight in a helicopter! I grew up riding in small aircraft since my father is a private pilot, but the motion of the helicopter is unlike anything I've ever experienced. There is a side to side Seen from above the fjords are incredibly beautiful; you can fully appreciate the intricacies of the landscape. After 15 minutes or so the pilot starts circling a mountain peak speckled with a few brightly covered tents. Figures appear from the tents and scramble around the peak. Stjepan yells over the roar of the engines, "We will be back in a few hours to pick you up." The helicopter sets down on a knoll and we jump out, splashing into the wet turba and ducking to avoid the whirling blades. We hurry to get out of the way of the helicopter and away from the rain.

Don't stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>

Harold greets Brian and I and tells us to get into his tent. We gladly jump in the small tent, keeping our feet and bags out the door under the vestibule. Harold crawls in after us squeezing between myself and Christiano, a Chilean photographer staying at PC10. The four of us barely fit sitting up in the two man tent. Harold and Christiano barely speak English, and neither Brian nor I speak intelligible Spanish, but we communicate as best as we can. The rain continues to drum on the fabric of the tent throughout the rest of the day. "A team!" It's the French. The British team passed through hours ago, but we were expecting to see the American team, GearJunkies.com, next. I hurriedly shove my shoes on and grab my camera. I can't see through the viewfinder, it's completely fogged over. I try my best to shield my camera from the rain, but the ziploc bag I brought is awkward to hold with the camera in it. The French waste no time and take off down the mountain, headed for the next pass over which PC11 should be. We return to the shelter of the cramped tent.

Josiane Squeier and Raymond Pascal (France, Vaucluse Adventure Evasions) checking in at PC10 before taking on the last section of trekking.

The French team debates which route to take through te next mountain pass.

When the Croatian team shows up, none of us bother to get out of the tent. We push back the flap and snap a few photos, then retreat to the cramped comforts of the tent. The team I was waiting for, GearJunkies.com, never shows up. They were comfortably in second place. What happened? Are they lost? Did one of them get hurt? Over the satallite phone we hear that they arrived at PC11. The somehow went around PC10 thinking they would reach PC11 in time to beat the cutoff. For missing PC10 they were penalized 10 hours.

Brian insists that the helicopter must come back. He's in charge of the video crew and is in charge of all their logistics. But, as I predicted, no one comes to pick us up. Yet again, I am stuck. It's raining. Hard. All four of us are practically asleep. I can't summon the drive to set up my own tent in the current conditions. In the tent made for two the four of us somehow manage to stretch out and get some sleep. At times the wind whips the tent pushing the sides almost on top of us at to the failpoint of the tent. At one point, in a particularly vicious gust, one of the tent poles snaps, luckily separating at a joint. We are all very awake. Harold gets out to inspect the damage and is able to get the pole back together.

Race Day 06. Sunday, February 13th
We wake up to find the tent in one piece and the weather much improved. It still rains intermittently, and the clouds move at a frighteningly fast pace across the sky. But we get pockets of sun. The improved weather made up for getting stranded again, and the terrible night. I decide to set up my Nemo tent to get some shots in the beautiful scenery, and as a precautionary measure for whether or not the helicopter comes back to pick us up today. Harold looks at me, his mouth gaping from astonishment. "You had a tent?" Behind that speechless gaze he was really saying, "We were crammed in that tiny tent like sardines all night, none of us barely getting any sleep, and you didn't bother to solve the issue just by setting up your tent?" "Ah," I say, "I told you when we landed that I had a tent. I was just holding onto the hope that we would get picked up by the helicopter."

The spectacular views from PC10

"Double rainbow all the way across the sky!"

The hum of the helicopter in the distance alerts us to it's arrival before it can be seen among the surround peaks. They're coming to pick us up! The craft lands on the patch of turba where it left us, and weary racers jump out. All of us in camp hurry over to pull their bags and get them safely away from the helicopter. The teams had gotten stuck. They couldn't cross a swollen river, and they had already missed the cutoff for reaching PC10. The helicopter had to make three separate trips to pick up the three teams: The Japanese, the Danes, and the mostly American team, Perdido en el Turbal.

The unprotected hands of Danish racer Niels Torp took a beating in the unrelenting dense forests

Kay Waki (Japan, East Wind) enjoys a bit of sunshine at PC10

Although they did not finish, Team East Wind remained in good spirits.

Just another double rainbow.

Finally Brian and I load onto the helicopter that takes us out of the mountains, over the fjords, and drops us on a cattle ranch which is PC13, my home for the next four days.

Spectacular views of the fjords from the helicopter en route to PC13

The teams that made it to PC11, after 60 kilometers of biking, 105 kilometers of kayaking, and 150 kilometers of trekking, had a powow with the leaders of race. The weather was worse than expected, the terrain more intense. The teams were worn to the core. Eventually everyone came to agree: to send the teams out for the rest of the trekking section would put them in too much danger. The race would continue from PC13 on bikes to the finish.

The mountains give way to forests, which open up into plains. I imagine if the race teams had finished the last trekking section, the flat lands would have been a much needed reprise from gruelling mountain passes. The trees are twisted into grotesque shapes after years of weather beating them down. The winds sweeping out of the mountains bring ever changing conditions. You never know from hour to hour what will come next. But from the edge of the forest bordering the open fields of the cattle ranch you can see each new system tearing towards you, giving you just enough warning from the rain to jump into a tent.

Landing in the helicopter, people wonder out of the woods and into the clearing to see who is arriving. Seemingly everyone involved with the race congregated at the last checkpoint, PC13. Large geometric domed tents covered with the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race logo line the field, and more are semi hidden in the woods. These serve as headquarters for the media, the medical staff, etc. British Pete, who is in charge of all the biking logistics, fills the barn with all the teams' bikes and supplies. German Peter takes over a shack to use as his kitchen, and he creates pretty spectacular meals to feed the thirty plus volunteers, interns, staff, and media. Tents of every different shape and color scatter throughout the woods just beyond the clearing. This camp doesn't look like its going anywhere soon...and it isn't.

CLICK ME!!! The story continues with more photographs in the next post.

2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race - Part VI: The Finish

2011-07-04T23:55:00.003+05:30

Race Day 07. Monday, February 14th

Juan, the Gaucho that takes care of the ranch we were camped out on at PC13.

I awake to a buzz of activity outside my tent. "The French are starting!" It's 10am. The British and GearJunkies.com have already left a few hours ago for the 188 kilometers of biking to reach the finish line. Somehow I slept through all of that commotion. The French assemble their bikes and head off to the east toward Pali Aike. "Tony, you go in the truck and follow the French. Scott, you can follow the Croatians in the next truck," the organizers tell us. Just as the French start their day, fresh from a rest, semi dry, they reach a small creek they have to cross - just deep enough they have to get their feet wet, once again. They become specks and disappear over the next hill.

Don't stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>

Raymond Pascal (France) and Stiven Vunic (Croatia) prepare for the last leg of the race, biking 188kms to Pali Aike. Stiven borrowed my sunglasses for the trip.

France's Vaucluse Adventure Evasions take off for Pali Aike.

The Croatians gather their things and start off toward the creek. The majority of the media left in the last truck, so they go with much less hooplah surrounding them. I look around for anyone assembling in a truck. No one seems to be moving. "Is anyone going to the finish?" I ask to anyone that will listen. Everyone seems to be busy with their own tasks. The last truck leaves, but they are headed back to Punta Arenas, not the end of the race. Looks like, once again and not surprisingly, I'm stuck. But I'm surrounded by good people in a location much more comfortable than any of my previous detentions. I've got friends, good food (a welcome reprieve from paté and chocolate), and the ability to be mostly dry.

Dario Rocco checks his gear before their last bike section.

Darija Bostjancic (Croatia, Ad Natura-Karibu) takes her bike from the barn before finishing the race.

Darija Bostjancic

The Croatian team get their feet wet after finally being dry for a night.

Race Day 08. Tuesday, February 15th
The teams that were 'rescued' and delivered to PC10 trekked out with the crew. Denmark and the mostly American team, Perdido en el Turbal, were brought to PC13 so they could finish the biking section, albeit a day later than the other teams. In all only six teams made that final journey, down from the fourteen teams that started the race seven days earlier.

The Danes take off towards the finish.

Perdido en el Turbal prepares to finish the race.

The teams are all gone. It's just us: the volunteers, interns, and what's left of the media. We have no where to go and nothing to do, except hope and speculate when the race will send vehicles to come pick us up. We stand around the firepit trying to stay warm, trying to think up things to do. My best idea: glove racing. Place rubber gloves on the guylines from the tarp and bet on which glove will reach the ground first. Pure excitement.

The ranch we were camped out on was so eerily beautiful.

Compliments of the workers of PC13

The beautifully twisted trees that line the property

The report from the finish. There are many trucks sitting at the finish with not enough drivers to drive them (many of the drivers are at PC13 with me). The carabineros (the police) show up in their Toyota four door four-wheel-drive pickup truck. Someone from the race asked them to come pick up some of the drivers and take them to Pali Aike so they can return with vehicles to pick everyone up. But word spreads through camp that they are having a huge party at the finish line. "We should have our own party here since not all of us can go to the finish," people start saying. They're crazy. I just want to get out of here. I'd rather go to the finish, but it wouldn't be bad to be back in Punta Arenas. "The police are going to take a couple of us to buy drinks. Do you have any money to donate?" The police came to rescue us, but instead...they bring back alcohol. Someone gets a pig and Peter starts barbecuing.

I wake up in a huge cabin tent by myself, weary eyed and wondering where the rest of the inhabitants are. The previous night a bit of a blur, I stumble back to the shack to find Peter and a few others cleaning up from the festivities. If this wasn't some ranch on the edge of pure wilderness it would resemble the aftermath of any frat party. I need to clear my head. With the rain holding off British Pete and I go for a hike exploring the forest surrounding our camp. The forests have such a strange beauty with its bent and twisted trees covered in hanging moss. The good news greets us as we return: two trucks have come. A select few of us get to go back to Punta Arenas. We won't be missing the closing ceremony happening this evening. I hurry to get my tent and bags packed so as not to miss this boat out. The truck takes us to a waiting van and goes back for a second set of lucky travelers. The driver of the van tells us we cannot get in yet and goes to work underneath the van. It later becomes apparent what he was working on. The clutch doesn't work. We bounce down the road, stalling and grinding the gears all the way back to Punta Arenas.

I would love to come back and just do a project on these trees.

It's all over
After the closing ceremony, after the party, after all the athletes leave the staff, interns, volunteers, and a few of the media are still left in Punta Arenas. I had planned on spending a few days processing images before my flight back to the US on Sunday. "Scott, would you like to join us on our flight to Antarctica with DAP Antarctica? We can try and change your flight so you can stay a bit longer," Anne asked me. Man, how do you turn down an offer like that? But I have to. I am teaching at a University and have already missed two weeks because of the race and another because of a snow day. I need to be there. I have to be responsible.

I say my goodbyes and get ready to go to the airport. "Wait, Scott. Don't go yet. Your flight has been cancelled!" What? There's not a cloud in the sky? The weather is amazing. How is my flight just cancelled? Not just postponed, but cancelled. The timing was perfect: I'd leave Sunday, arrive Monday, have Tuesday to recover before my class on Wednesday. But with the cancelled flight I would not arrive until partway through my first class, making it very unlikely I could get there in time for any of my classes. Anne says, "Guess this means you get to go to Antarctica with us!" The head of the art department at my university gives me the go ahead. My flight is rescheduled for Friday.

"Be at the office at 6am Wednesday morning. We will leave from there. But it all depends on the weather," we're told. My roommate Brad and I show up at six to find only the other American's waiting. No one in the office knows anything, and anyone that would know something is not in the office. Probably still comfortably asleep, knowing something we apparently don't: We are not flying to Antarctica today. Again, Thursday morning we Americans show up only to find no one else around, more in the know apparently. Sadly, Friday I have to fly home, so I say goodbye to all my friends from the past month as they start their adventure to touch Antarctica.

My entire time in southern Patagonia has been such an amazing adventure, and I cannot wait to come back next year to cover the 10th Anniversary race. I learned a lot, and I hope to be much more prepared next year, both physically and gear wise (I hope to have my waterproofing much more dialed in - ziplock bags only work so well). I wonder who I will see again at the race?

Happy June!

2011-06-02T07:50:00.000+05:30

Time just seems to be flying by, it's already June 1st!

Yesterday I did a shoot with the percussionist, Ryan Knudsen, who just got a sponsorship from the drum company, Latin Percussion. This shoot went swimmingly, but most of all it lasted only maybe 10 minutes.

We piled the gear in Ryan's gig van, picked up a friend of his, and sped off in search of the perfect location. The friend suggested an alleyway, which I was not a huge fan of because alleys can be very cliche, but for lack of time and better suggestions we went with it. I am very pleased with the results.

I had wanted to use my studio strobes, White-Lightnings, but my Vagabond II battery was deader than dead. So, I used what I had: my two Speedlites. Using radio slaves, I put my 580exII in a Brolly Box, a shoot through umbrella with a reflective backing to keep any light from escaping out the back. Then I did something that David Hobby, the Strobist, never recommends. I put Ryan directly in the 2pm summer sunlight. I had him face away from the sun, so it would hit his head and shoulders as a hair accent. I placed my second speedlite behind Ryan, to his left to give a nice rim light. The LP logo was getting lost in shadow, so I had my assistant, who was holding the lightstand with the BrollyBox to keep it from flying away, also hold a silver reflector low, bouncing sunlight back up directly onto the logo. I quickly set my camera to ISO 100, 1/250th and f/8 knowing that it would give me a slightly underexposed background and hoping my speedlites could compete with the sun. They did quite nicely. One note, on the Canon 5dMkII, the sync speed with the flashes is 1/200th of a second. But since I'm mixing ambient light with strobes and my subject is not filling the entire frame, it is ok to fudge that sync speed a bit. Once the lighting was set, the shooting went very fast.

For the headshots I moved Ryan into the shadow so I could control more of the light. Shooting with the 70-200 f/2.8 I didn't put on the lens hood, allowing for some lens flare off of the rim light.

It was pretty hot (over 90º), but Ryan was able to keep his cool long enough to get the shots. Thank goodness for a fast shoot.

Editing Again

2011-05-25T06:31:00.000+05:30

Again, it's been a long time since my last post. I can't really make the excuse that I've been super busy, but...well, I've been busy climbing. I work and I climb, which has been great! I'm stronger that I've ever been before. But I've been neglecting my photography work. I'm trying to finish up editing on my Chile post, to finally get that off of my shoulders...three months later. I just want to let you guys know, I'm still here, and I'm excited to be working on my photography again. Here's a piece to tide you over.

A sailor of the Chilean Navy watches over the kayaking proficiency tests
before the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race

Neal in Muscatatuck

2011-04-17T19:12:00.000+05:30

This thursday I went with Neal Sipahimalani to the bouldering area in south eastern Indiana, Muscatatuck. For being in Indiana it's alright. Neal has recently received some great sponsorships and we're working together to get his publicity materials. I'm just glad to be shooting again.

Rock & Ice Parting Shot

2011-03-27T04:09:00.000+05:30

I got a climbing photo published in Rock & Ice magazine! It is the Parting Shot in the April issue.

And here is the original shot. (I never showed it to you guys, but it's where the title bar of this blog comes from.

Neal Sipahimalani on Cherry Red - 5.14a

2011-03-25T08:30:00.000+05:30

One of the many benefits of spending time in Red River Gorge, Kentucky is seeing my friends work on some pretty incredible climbing projects. On March 12 Neal Sipahamilani came super close to sending Cherry Red at The Sanctuary in Muir Valley, a 5.14a (which means friggity hard). From the angle I was taking photos its hard to appreciate the angle of overhang that Neal is climbing on.

Neal is one of those guys that make climbing look easy. He never seems to struggle even if he does fall; every move is calculated and smooth. He overcomes a slight height disadvantage with ease, and but his light build he definitely uses to his advantage. He's young and only going to continue to get stronger. I can't wait to see where climbing takes him.

More Photos After the Break! -->

Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race Portraits

2011-03-21T19:38:00.001+05:30

Outdoor climbing season has started! I spent the last two weekend climbing in Red River Gorge and I'm super excited to spend as many weekends down there as possible. I'm still working at catching up from being gone for a month, but things are coming along slowly. I wanted to share some portraits I took of the adventure racers before the race started last month in Punta Arenas, Chile.

I was only able to shoot a handful of the racers because of time restraints, but I would love to continue this series next year. They were shot on a white screen inside a large hanger door on a cloudy day, which gave an incredible quality of light.

Daniel Staudigel - USA - Team GearJunkie.com

Chelsey Gribbon - USA - Team GearJunkie.com

Chelsey Gribbon - USA - Team GearJunkie.com

Jason Magness - USA - Team GearJunkie.com

Marcelo Sinoca - Brazil - Team Selva NKS Kailash

Rose Hoeppner - Brazil - Team Selva NKS Kailash

Ricardo da Silva - Brazil - Team Selva NKS Kailash

Carlos Fonseca - Brazil - Team Selva NKS Kailash

Marcelo Catalán - Brazil - Team Xingu

Tasman Lawrie - Australia - Team Four Continents

Andre Vogel - Australia - Team Four Continents

Paulette Kirby - USA - Team Four Continents

Gear Review: Nemo Espri 2P

2011-03-11T09:40:00.000+05:30

I had the pleasure of trying out a great lightweight tent during my time in Patagonia last month. Nemo Equipment sent me the Espri 2P to test.

The Espri 2P is a nice three season tent. It's great for backpacking because of the size and weight, and ease of set up and take down. When I first took it out of the box I found the packed length (at around 20 inches) a bit unwieldy, but that's only because of the tent I looked at before (the Meta2, which is roughly the size of a cantaloupe when packed but doesn't come with poles). If you take the poles out of the tent bag it does compress to roughly the size of a cantaloupe. One small oversight by Nemo is not making the tent bag a compression sac. I used third party straps to keep the bag as small as possible.

With the tent compressed, I could get both my 20º down sleeping bag and the Nemo tent in the bottom of my backpack. This is a huge improvement over tents I have used in the past that generally take over the outside of my backpack.

When you take the poles out of their bag the first thing you realize is the two poles are attached in the middle. If you just throw the poles out and shake them for a bit and they almost find their way together. One side of the poles is slightly more bent than the other and shaded with a darker grey. I didn't have the instructions, but I quickly found that the poles only fit when installed in one direction. The more bent, darker ends are the back. After a few wrong turns it's easy to determine which side is which, even in the dark. The lightweight but extremely sturdy poles snap naturally into place at the corners of the tent; Nemo used a ball and socket joint that is extremely intuitive and terribly hard to mess up. The center piece on the poles connects to a corresponding plastic button on the tent. Once the poles are in place and the center of the tent is attached, popping the rest of the plastic tent connectors onto the poles is a breeze and the mesh tent is up. This would be great for a warm summer night, allowing tons of air to flow freely through the tent.

The fly easily attaches, also connecting to the corners of the tent with a simple snap-on mechanism. It doesn't cover the entire tent but covers all of the essential mesh areas. The fly has a built-in vent to keep condensation to a minimum. The detachable vestibule provides additional space to store your gear outside of the tent but away from the rain. An optional trekking-pole vestibule gives you even more space, but it was unavailable for me to test.

A double rainbow in the fjords of southern Patagonia.

The Espri 2P comfortably fits two, keeps you dry even in the extremes of southern Patagonia, and is lightweight enough to carry with you on backpacking adventures (or from the car to the campsite 15ft away). I'm impressed by Nemo's quality and ingenuity. Check out their other great designs at www.nemoequipment.com.

Gear Reviews, Schmearreviews

2011-03-01T00:19:00.000+05:30

It's good to be back in my home "office", though when I opened the door I was met with an unfriendly smell and the mess of a domestic war zone. I had left in a hurry, leaving all the cardboard boxes and discarded equipment scattered around my room. It's starting to resemble something called order, but you know, these things can't happen over night.

I was sent down to Patagonia with several new pieces of equipment, so I'm going to review some of them here. I'm starting with the Klymit Inertia-X-Frame sleeping pad.

It's not very often that a simple thing such as a sleeping pad draws attention from onlookers, but when I pull out my Intertia-X-Frame from Klymit the common response is, "What is that?!". Not only do the "high vis chartreuse green/yellow" and the skeletal design attract attention, but the light weight (9.1oz) and compact size (about the size of a soda can when rolled up) ensure the interest of my fellow adventurers. What I call skeletal design Klymit calls body mapped design. There is plenty of padding where you need it and none where you don't. It's a pretty simple concept that creates visually interesting and extremely effective sleeping mat.

I took the Inertia-X-Frame with me to Southern Patagonia in Chile for the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race. I was photographing the race, so I didn't quite put it through the testing that a racer would, but I still needed to move quickly and lightly. I definitely appreciated the compact size and the lightweight, and I loved how comfortable it was to sleep on. Even on rough ground, on top of rocks and roots, I slept contentedly. I have always used simple foam pads in the past, so sleeping on this pad is tremendous improvement.

I hope to continue to use this mat for years to come. I think it promises to be durable, and with such a great design it will continue to win the attention of everyone who sees it.

Edit: The Intertia X-Frame can be purchased for $99 from Klymit

Leaving Patagonia

2011-02-25T20:06:00.000+05:30

It's been a great trip with all kinds of ups and downs. This week has seen surprised flight cancellations, promises of Antarctica, waiting for information on when we leave, and then watching everyone else leave because I have to stay to catch my rescheduled flight. But I have loved every minute of being here and fully plan on coming back next year. What an experience! I can wait for the next one. "North America" here I come. See you soon.

Patagonian Expedition Race Slideshow

2011-02-22T00:29:00.000+05:30

I'm trying to get back to the US in time to teach my courses at Indiana Wesleyan University, but as it goes with international travel, there have been delays for no recognizable reason and I will miss all of my connections.

I hope that I get back in time for my classes, because if I don't...I would have missed a chance to fly to Antarctica for a day compliments of the race.

The Patagonian Expedition Race operations team has been busy collecting all the photos and videos from the media team. Here's a nice slideshow of photos from the race.

Punta Arenas

2011-02-20T22:13:00.000+05:30

The sun is shining in Punta Arenas, something that doesn't happen here all too often. The last few days after the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race have been nicely relaxing, saying goodbye to all the racers and many of the volunteers for the race. Photographing the race has been a fantastic experience, I've met some truly incredible people here, and seen some of the worlds most spectacular scenery. I can't wait to come back, both for the race and independently to follow some personal photographic interests (hopefully involving a large format camera).

I'm leaving tomorrow to come back to the US, although there are many reasons I would like to stay, including a chance to photograph for a day in Antarctica. But this will have to wait until next year. It's been great. I will have a full story from the race in a few days, but here are some images to start.

Gauchos preparing the escort the bikers for the beginning of the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race

Juan, the Chilean goucho

Hiking up to PC3 at 6am

Race update

2011-02-13T11:45:00.000+05:30

I am alive and well and having a blast in Patagonia. This place is incredible. Follow the race updates at www.patagonianexpeditionrace.com. Some of my pictures may show on the frontpage, and you can search through the photogalleries. We still have about four days to go and there are seven teams left. I'm going back out into the wilds tomorrow to catch the last days of the race.

Patagonia

2011-02-05T08:13:00.000+05:30

I reached Punta Arenas in Patagonia, Chile this morning after almost 28 hours of travel time. I've eaten some delicious meals and met the great people I will be working with over the next two weeks. We went over the race map today, and I'm definitely excited to get out into the field. I still don't know exactly what I'm going to be doing; I'm not sure if it's decided yet. But I have a few days to get settled in here (and get my sleep schedule back on track). Looking forward to more great food over then next few days, and maybe even catching the superbowl somewhere Sunday night. When I'm in the field I will not have constant internet access, but I will update when I can.

I haven't taken any photos yet, but I can't post without a photo.

A road worker in Ladakh that told me there was no way to continue, the road was out on my trip around Ladakh in June of 2010. I haven't posted this photostory on here, but you can see it my Behance portfolio.

Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race

2011-01-23T00:54:00.000+05:30

I found out two days ago that I will be the official photographer for the Wengen Patagonian Expedition Race in the southern most part of Chilé, IE only about a two hour flight from Antarctica! I entered a photo contest put on by Wenger and National Geographic kind of on a whim. I did not expect to win. But when I landed in Salt Lake City on Thursday, I received a voicemail by a lady named Ann that I could barely hear. Something about, "Congratulations," and "You're going to Chilé." She called me back and let me know what was going on. I am in Utah for the Outdoor Retailer Tradeshow, and she told me to find Denis at the Wenger booth. Denis explained the race to me a bit better and connected me with Michael Clark, who has photographed the race for the last three years. You can read his account of the 2009 race here.

I am super excited to go to Chilé and photograph this race, but nervous for the toll it will take on my equipment. (Michael related some horror stories about the environment he's endured, and the gear he has ruined.) This is a great opportunity, and I cannot wait to take off.

Breckenridge Portfolio Shoot

2011-01-18T06:34:00.002+05:30

I've heard it said, "You will never get hired for the type of work you want to shoot. Shoot the type of work for which you want to get hired." Basically, you can't wait for clients to go out on a limb and hire you to do a project that you have no proof you can complete.

At the end of this week I am going to the Outdoor Retailer Tradeshow in Salt Lake City to show my outdoor adventure portfolio to potential clients. When I made the decision at the end of December to go I had nothing to show in the "Snow" area of my portfolio. I couldn't assume that winter sports companies would hire me based on my rock climbing portfolio, so I headed to Colorado. I contacted several resorts outside of Denver, and Breckenridge responded positively. They allowed me to shoot and even got me in contact with several skiing and snowboarding professionals to use as models. I cannot thank Austyn and Missy enough for all the help they provided me.

Jake Black hitting the terrain park at Breck

Don't stop there! More Photos After the Break!

John Mason carving Peak 8

Jesse Ambrogi getting some air.

The summit of Peak 8 of Breckenridge sits at 12,998 feet above see level

The hike from the highest ski lift in North America to the peak may only be 300 feet, but at almost 13,000 feet of elevation my lungs felt like they were going to burst. Carrying my skis, poles and all my camera equipment I would take a break after every few steps. Light headed, I struggled to keep myself from falling backwards from the weight I was carrying.

But the views from the top are worth the hike.

View of Copper Mountain from the summit of peak 8

The drop into the Lake Chutes, the reward of hiking to the summit.

Jeff popping off a log in the woods.

Damian navigating a log jump in the woods of Peak 9

Jeff finishing the day just right.

I learned a lot from this shoot. My first day out I felt very ill-prepared. I had equipment failures and wasn't placing myself well to catch the jumps. Day two with John Mason and Jesse Ambrogi went much better; I felt much more natural shooting in the high alpine environment. Saturday I spent climbing up to the Lake Chutes in perfect weather, but finished the day in the terrain park with no sun. Sunday I got connected with Damian and Jeff and got exactly what I was looking for, happy to shoot with lights in a much more controlled environment. I was hoping to stay monday, but a very large storm threatening to strand me through Tuesday chased me back to Denver. I have to leave Tuesday morning to get back to Indiana to teach at IWU. I was looking forward to shooting in great snow conditions, but I know I'll be back. This was a great first outing.

Human Pyramids

2010-12-26T03:41:00.001+05:30

Merry Christmas everyone! Hope the holidays are treating everyone well. I am finally getting time to catch up on images I took, well, in September!

I woke up this past September 2, and a friend told me to take my camera and go outside. Someone had strung wires between the apartment buildings and hung clay pots from the wires. The previously deserted streets would suddenly be swarming with hundreds of young men wearing colorful uniforms. As I stepped out of my apartment holding my camera, a woman on a scooter stops and says, "Are you looking for the pyramids? Get on! I'll take you!"

The street is blocked by the massive crowd of young men. Everyone's attention is on the center where men are climbing on top of each other and standing on shoulders. Faces grimace and everyone yells. They are trying to make a human pyramid tall enough to reach the clay pots. This is Dahi Handi!

The festival celebrates the birth of Lord Krishna.

The pyramid collapses and everyone rushes to leave; it's on to the next competition. In the rush, a man grabs a hold of me and tells me to get on his motorcycle. "Wait, I'll go get my bike and follow you," I tell him. When I return with my motorcycle a man jumps on behind me, "Go!! Follow them!" he yells into my ear.

I spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon photographing one pyramid competition after another, all over the northern suburbs of Mumbai.

Just another day living in India.

More Photos After the Break!

These are the helmets the top man wears to protect against a head injury if he hits the ground.

This is how the teams are transported from one competition to another.

The goal is to reach the clay pot and smash it, letting the contents of buttermilk spill over all of the contestants.

The winning teams receive money rewards at some of the competitions. This check equals about $120.

The top man smashes the pot and the team is covered in buttermilk.

One of the supports slips and the tower starts to collapse

In this detail of the above photo you see the top man in the black shorts falling all the way from the top and the man in the green shorts falling head first. The top boy was only shaken up, but luckily the man in the green shorts only had a leg injury.

Somehow there are fewer injuries than could be expected, but not everyone gets away without harm.

The Look

2010-12-23T23:18:00.000+05:30

Two Posts in two days?!? I know, I'm on a roll. I just got back from New York on Monday after shooting an event for Jansport. On Friday I spent almost 4 hours in the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art). I like going to art museums, but I find that, especially when by myself, my mind starts to gloss over. I can't concentrate on the art. Frankly, I get bored. To entertain myself I like to watch everyone else enjoying the art. This series came from this boredom.

More photos after the break.

An entertaining installation piece.

Some things that interested me.

A little sunlight blessing.

Last Red River Gorge Trip of the Year

2010-12-23T04:49:00.001+05:30

Andrew Osnach climbing "Synchronicity" at the Roadside Crag. 5.11a trad.

I didn't go straight home to Indiana after landing in the US from my time in India. I stayed three weeks here, a week there, and so on till I met several friends in Red River Gorge, Kentucky for a weekend of climbing. I've always struggled balance my time between actually climbing and photographing climbing and decided that I have to say, "Today I am climbing" and "today I am shooting." Otherwise I end up carrying 100lbs of gear with me all over the cliffs and valleys and taking only one or two photos.

Two of my buddies left on Sunday, but Leigh and I stayed on Monday specifically to take photos. Having not made prior plans I decide on Roadside Crag because of its popularity and varied route difficulties. Approaching the cliff I find two guys preparing to climb a trad route (traditional climbing using your own protection gear instead of bolts in the rock) to the left of a beautifully pocketed climb. I don't have a guidebook, but I think it looks about like a 5.9, which I should be able to climb with no problem. I scamper to the top just as the first climber finishes the trad route. I end up hanging out with them the whole day.

George Makaronis cleans the trad route Five Finger Discount, 5.8.

Andrew Osnach climbs "Andromeda Strain", a beautiful 5.9+ trad route.

Andrew Osnach and Eric Thomson work on Fadda, a nicely pocketed 5.10a.

George Makaronis contemplates Fadda as Andrew practices placing trad gear on Motha.

Andrew Osnach climbing "Synchronicity" at the Roadside Crag. 5.11a trad.
Take note of the no-hands knee-bar taking place on the image on the right!

Climbing in the Red in mid-October is the best time. Not only do you have perfect temperatures (highs in the 60'sºF), but you get to enjoy the amazing fall foliage. It's good climbing here most of the year, but the scenery is not the area's strongpoint. But watching the trees change from above is, well, the only way to see it.

Rebecca

2010-12-08T20:42:00.000+05:30

I swore off doing weddings. I had had a few bad experiences, and I was making enough money in other fields of photography that I didn't need that extra income (and sometimes frustration that comes with it). But now that I am effectively starting over from scratch, weddings are a great way to survive while getting settled in a new place.

When I first arrived in New York from Mumbai at the end of September, my good friend, fashion photographer (www.jeremiahwilsonphoto.com) Jeremiah Wilson asked me to be his second shooter for a wedding near Queens on Long Island. I am so glad he did.

Jeremiah working his magic with a 4x5 large format camera while Max assists.

Not only was the couple and family a blast to work with, everything about the wedding was exceptionally beautiful, including Rebecca.

Perfect location. Perfect light. It was an amazing day.
Can't wait to do more like this.

Website Redesign!

2010-11-20T21:35:00.001+05:30

I have updated my website with my new logo and changed the menus to flow better in the design. Let me know what you think of the new design. I will continue to edit the website as I go.

Click on the image.

Rajasthan Part I: Jodhpur

2010-11-12T04:16:00.001+05:30

Friday, Sept 17th

The golden Fort, Jaisalmer, Western Rajasthan

I can hardly fathom that I left for the airport a week ago; it seems like ages. But a week ago I started my last foray into the vastness of India, at leas for now. And it's crazy thinking that, with this train's departure, I am beginning my journey back to the United States. It will take me from Jaisalmer – the edge of the Thar Desert – through Jodhpur and Ahmedabad before my flight leaves the ground late Sunday night from Mumbai. With the tires final touch of the tarmac my great Indian adventure will effectively end for the foreseeable future.

It has been a crazy ride. One year and three months before I stumbled off my flight from Chicago only expecting the unexpected. My plans stopped at the Hyderabad airport. I wanted to work internationally. I wanted to travel. I did not want to be in Indiana (note: commonly confused with India). But to me India has been many things: A great love, a great wonder, and a great frustration are among them. I experienced many things: great friendship, journeys, sicknesses, hunger, joy and depression. I found love, but might have lost something I've known to be true for 25 years. In the land where everyone is spiritual, India has left me with lots of questions. But I finally found a focus.

I decided to spend my last week in India traveling to one of the many areas I had not yet been. I picked Rajasthan because of the unique landscape and the distinctive people. I wanted this to be a trip solely about photography. I feel like I have failed to really capture my experience in India with my camera. There is always more.

But there is always next time. I may return someday: India seems to have that effect on people.

Saturday, September 11
In a mix-up of planning I end up taking an overnight bus from Ahmedabad to Jodhpur instead of a train. In India you can expect one thing: the road will be bad. You will not sleep on a bus.

Sunday, September 12
Jodhphur, Rajasthan
A rickshaw drops me off at the clock tower, a central market of sorts in Jodhpur, and I wander off in the shadow of the immense fortress to find a guesthouse among the blue colored buildings along the ancient streets.
"Come to my guesthouse. Very good. Cheap."
"My hotel is highly recommended by the Lonely Planet"
"I have great views of the fort,"
men call out to me as I walk past in the early morning light. I enter Anil's Sunrise Hotel and take a small, bare room. And with breakfast in my stomach I pass out for several hours making up for the sleep lost on the bus.

Jodhpur is a magical city where your imagination can run wild. You can almost put yourself back to the time when the fort was not just a tourist attraction, but defended against attacks from foreign invaders.

[[[Side Note]]] People that snore should not be allowed to sleep, at least not in a public setting. They should either be arrested for public disturbance or rough up enough by the annoyed bystanders that they wouldn't dare utter another snore.[[[]]]

Jodhpur is called the Blue City because many of the buildings are painted blue, apparently to keep out the heat?

More Stories & Photos After the Break! Don't Stop Here! ---->

The maze of streets forces me to try several different routes before I actually reach the base of the huge fort that towers proudly over the city. I stop for something to eat, and waiting something like two hours for food storm clouds roll in, sticking around for the rest of my time in the city. Sadly, I didn't get to explore the fort.

I meet a man outside my hotel that tells me he has a guest house in Jaisalmer called Rajdhani Hotel with ensuite rooms for only 100rs. My instinct is not to trust him. I feel my instinctual judgments of people are generally very accurate, a skill you have to develop as a traveler, but the price is right. He says I'll be picked up at the train station in the morning and taken to the guesthouse. If I don't like it, then no worries, I can go somewhere else. At the Jodhpur train station the man has corralled a group of foreigners, pulling them in with the same promise of cheap rooms at the Rajdhani Hotel.

For some reason there were thousands of people sleeping at the Jodhpur train station. I've never really seen anything like it. I mean trains stations are usually crowded, but not like this.

Tuesday, September 14
Jaisalmer
At 5:45am we stumble off the train. A man holding a sign for the Rajdhani Hotel directs us into a jeep. The four Brits get situated in their rooms and I am told to wait. They finally show me my room, a storage area on the roof full of spare bedding and workers' clothes with a mattress thrown on the floor. They say it's only temporary while they clean my room. "Wait an hour." "Just five minutes" "Only Ten minutes more" "Sorry, can you just stay in this room?"

The door doesn't properly shut and I find workers hanging out in the room, much to my frustration. I loudly object. After repeated requests I am finally brought a lock, but at night the door cannot be secured from the inside.

I'm pretty sure my girlfriend is already beautiful and this would definitely not improve her looks or style

The Golden City with wind turbines on the horizon

The Golden Fort, overlooking Jaisalmer, the Golden City

The ever-present cricket match.

I love seeing this, the mix of the ancient and the future.

The Golden Fort. Click on this photo to see large (You need to see this larger).

I spend the afternoon with the Brits exploring the impressive Golden Fort that overlooks the small city. They invite me to go with them for the next two days on a camel safari into the desert, but after thinking about it, I don't want to schedule my last two travel days with just one thing. I decide to go off by myself into the small, outlying villages to see what I can find.

Don't Stop Here! There's much more to the story! Keep reading and looking through the photos. Click to Continue with Part II: The Read Adventure Begins!

Part II The Real Adventure Begins!

2010-11-12T03:28:00.002+05:30

Wednesday, September 15

A lone tree on the dunes near the village of Khuri in Western Rajasthan.

I get started late Wednesday morning after renting a small 135cc Bajaj Discover and taking care of some things in the city. I clear out of the 'storage closet', asking the man with the red paan stained teeth and immature 14 year old's bowl haircut, "Where can I keep my pack till I return?"
He snidely replies, "Take it with you on your bike."
"Yea, it won't fit and I don't need it. You have storage for people's luggage. Where is it?"

Background: This man manages the Jaisal View Hotel, the place I am staying, NOT the Rajdhani Hotel, which is a completely separate hotel with no connection. They had deceived me to get me to go to their hotel. The man with the bad teeth lied about the Brit's camel safari and about getting me an actual room. I have a very hard time trusting anyone with bad teeth, especially tobacco stained. I had purposefully avoided a handshake with this man and he had rightfully taken offense to this and cursed me.

The man with the red stained teeth and bowl haircut says, "I do not like you. You Americans are very mean."
I calmly respond, "Well, that's alright. I do not like you."
"Actually I hate you," he added. "You are a bad man (Take note: He said this because I wouldn't shake his hand). I hear you talking bad about me with the other guests."
"You lied to me. Everything about this place has been completely dishonest. If you do not respect me enough to deal truthfully then I will not respect you."

I think only a dishonest man will get upset at the truth being stated.

I grab my bags and head across the street to the Prithvi Palace Hotel, where they agree to hold my bags and rent me a nice room for a good price when I return. Lesson: When in Jaisalmer do not stay at the Jaisal View Hotel or trust men with bowl haircuts and red stained teeth.

I take off on the bike in the direction of Khuri Village, asking directions along the way. One man I ask says he needs to that way. I say, "Get on. You don't mind holding my backpack?" I drop him off at a huge resort under construction made to look like a large fortress. Not five minutes later a young man, named Sitah, hiding from the sun in the shade of a tree flags me down. He needs to go to Khuri. "Get on."

More Stories & Photos After the Break! Don't Stop Here! ---->

Sitah is coming from a party and going back to his uncle's in the small village of Barna. He is training with his uncle as a camel driver for safaris. I accept his invitation for chai in the village, which is only about five kilometers from Khuri. His uncle Gamra's complex is three mud huts inside a smooth mud barrier. Inside the dark hut provides much needed shelter from the intense sun. "You want chapatti?" Gamra asks. He brings me into another hut where his wife cooks over an open fire. She pulls off the fire a Rajasthani vegetable that looks like green beans with lots of spices and several very hot chapatti.

Gamra Ji

Sitah, Gamra's nephew

Gamra asks, "Do you want to take a camel safari? I am nervous to ask because I don't want to be like the pushy men in Jaisalmer. Go into Khuri and talk to them then come back. I will take you out. No agent, no hotel. Just me and you as my guest." I trust Gamra. My instinct tells me he is a good man.

I had made a reservation at a hotel in Khuri, but once in the village, which consists only of miniature fort hotels, I decide that the safari is the best option. On the far side of the Khuri is a large set of Dunes that I take the bike to explore. I scare a few small deer, but mostly only goats and cattle join me. The dune are fading in and out of the light; the threatening rain clouds taking their turns obscuring the sun.

Just as I reach the village again the rain starts. I duck into a small shop with some locals to wait it out.

The rain settles to a mere drizzle and I start off again toward Barna, but before I've made it out of the village the skies open again. A guard in small hut calls me to join him.

I turn the bike off of the tarmac onto a dirt road that leads to Barna. The ground is completely dry; the rainsquall had skipped this area only by a few hundred meters.

The Camel Trek

Gamra brings the camels to the gate, and Sitah helps him put the wood saddles on the animals. They cover the wood with several thick blankets but the padding is not enough to make it comfortable. Laying down the camels look smaller than I imagined, but when they stand the top of my chest comes to the bottom of their torso. Their heads and humps tower above me.

Just outside the village Gamra tells the darker of the two camels to sit so I can climb into the saddle. To my disappointment this one seems to be the less well behaved, more ornery of the two camels, vocally complaining at every opportunity.

This area has been receiving its best monsoon rains after three years of drought, so there is a lot of green underbrush everywhere except on the dunes themselves. Gamra and Sitah walk through the brush, leading the camels by ropes attached to the animal's nostrils. After only a short time I realize I would rather be walking; the saddle is extremely painful and the camel's gate is uneven and harsh, and the absence of stirrups does not allow the rider the luxury of bracing through the bumps by supporting their own weight. I am healthy and have good legs. As long as the camel carries my backpack I am happy.

The sun is dropping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dunes showing each rounded sandy feature. Not wanting to change lenses while riding on the camel I wait to take a shot of one particular dune till I get close enough to use my wide angle lens, only to find I am now too close to really show the interesting shapes I saw from further away. But I take the opportunity to walk, glad to be off the back of the beast. Coming over the top of a ridge we reach our intended destination; a beautiful set of rounded dune overlooking a green valley; the sun sets over the next ridge as a heard of deer leap through the brush.

Gamra settles the camels and prepares our campsite, starting a fire as the sun disappears. Sitah, who had walked back to the village to get more water, scares the camels on his approach. Gamra calms them and they sit back down. I sit and watch the moon overpower the stars' light in the night sky as I enjoy my khali chai (black tea). Sitah makes less-than-perfectly round chapattis as Gamra prepares the vegetables for dinner.

The desert is mostly silent except for the dung beetles' noisy, awkward flight and a few small birds singing in the night. I lay on the rain-hardened sand, covered by a thick camel's blanket, looking up into the black sky. I know that this experience would not have happened if I had not been traveling alone, but it would be great to share this with someone – the great catch-22 of travel.

Gamra has always been a camel driver; his father was a camel driver; and his son will be a camel driver. For the last three years Sitah, Gamra's nephew, has been learning the trade as well as learning English. This is remarkable for two reasons: Gamra never went to school, never learned to read or write Hindi, Rajasthani or English. Incredibly he tells me how he learned, "I would stand in the market in Jaisalmer and just listen to the foreigners talking." (I want to know how long it took to pick up just by listening.) The second thing: Sitah, who also never went to school and can neither read nor write, is learning English from Gamra! Both are highly intelligent and speak much better than many in Mumbai who have gone to school and literate.

I wake to the deep hazy orange of a sky anxiously awaiting the arrive of its sun. All around me tiny piles of sand mar the relative smooth surface, the excavation of the many dung beetles active through the night. Several times during the night I awoke, startled by the creatures crawling next to my head.

Gamra restarts the fire, heating up chai, while Sitah saddles the camels. Instead of taking me directly back to where we started, Gamra makes a large loop showing me another village and set of dunes. Again, I am glad to be off the awkward beast, using my own legs.</p><p><img src=" www.scottclarkphotography.net="" />

I ask Gamra if I can photograph the people. "Just ask. Some yes, some no. You know, they are desert people," he tells me. The first woman I encounter seems angry that I am taking photos, pointing at the village and saying, "No! No!" But then a woman carrying her son asks me to take their photo, but after asks, "Rupiah?" My friend, Himanshu, warned me that this area was too accustomed to tourists, this being the common result.

"I'm on a Camel!" I found there really wasn't a good way to take a photo of myself proving I was actually on the camel.

Gamra serves me lunch in his village before sending me off with his nephew. Gamra's sister lives near the Sam Sand Dunes, and Sitah will take me to meet his sister's husband, along with the extended family. I had already booked a hotel room in Jaisalmer for that night; I decide to keep it so I can have a place to shower and rest up before my train out on Friday. I would spend the night under the stars again.

Gamra's father

Don't Stop Here! Click to continue with Part III: Out of Gas & In the Sun!

Rajasthan Part III: Out of Gas & In the Sun

2010-11-12T02:36:00.006+05:30

The spectacular Sam Sand Dunes in the late afternoon sun in western Rajasthan.

After taking care of some things in at the hotel I take Sitah to get a drink. I can't find any juice stands nearby so I go to the nearest restaurant, Café Trio. It is a bit classier than I was expecting and the two of us stand out wearing our dirty, trail beaten clothes in the elegant eatery. Sitah acts nervous, looking around. I hand him a menu, "What do you want to drink?" He stammers a response, "I'll, uh, have what you have. I really…I, I don't know what to do. I've never been here before. I've never been in a place like this." It hadn't really occurred to me that this would be a new experience for him. I love Lassies (yoghurt whipped and mixed with ice and sugar), so I order two without much thought. Only after do I think about it. That forty rupees I flippantly spent on a cold drink to be downed in ten seconds could easily have paid for two meals for Sitah. I know he appreciated the gift of the drink, but I can't help but feel that I was somehow being flashy with my money.

More Photos and Story After the Break! Don't stop here! --->

Sitah guides me out of the city in the direction of the Sam Sand Dunes, and we take off through the open desert on my rented 135cc Bajaj Discover. Grand hotels masquerading as old fortresses line the street out of town. Fifteen kilometers out, a giant wall blocks the horizon. A fortress masquerading as a hotel grows out of the sands. I'm pretty sure it’s the size of most ancient walled cities.

I blast down the empty road at 90kmph (56mph) pushing the small bike to its limit carrying two men and luggage. Sputter. The engine dies and as I coast to a stop I realize, I didn't check the petrol when we were in Jaisalmer! I had estimated that the bike got about 50 kilometers per liter - an educated estimate based on the efficiency of my bike in Mumbai. I had filled the tank with 5 liters of petrol before taking off the day before. This, if my calculations were correct, would get me 250 kilometers. So far, I had only traveled roughly 125kms and would have plenty of fuel to return from Sam. But I did not take into account that the bike was not in top working order and that I was traveling a good 40kmph over the bike's ideal cruising speed. Now, in the middle of the desert with few vehicles coming or going we have few options. Luckily a man on a motorcycle comes and agrees to take me about five kilometers ahead to a hotel to beg for some petrol, which has to be siphoned from someone else's vehicle. A truck passes us and my 'chauffer' somehow lets the driver know that I need petrol. The truck pulls over on a curve right before the crest of a hill. The Good Samaritan pulls up next to the truck, fully in the oncoming traffic's lane – around a curve and at the crest of the hill. I nervously negotiate with a man in the back seat who just so happens to have one liter of petrol in a coke bottle.

I pay for the petrol at "desert price" - roughly double - despite my efforts to haggle, but I need the petrol more than I need that 100 rupee note. The man on the bike graciously brings me back to Sitah, walking my motorcycle along the road wearing my black helmet and heavy backpack. Tilting the bike over to the left after pouring the liter of fuel into the tank, I kick start the bike and it sputters to life.

I pull up to a hotel still under construction to ask if they have any spare fuel. The foreman of the construction crew brings me into one of the rooms to ask the owners - both asleep on a single bed. "Ask in the next village. We don't have any extra."

Sitah directs me down a maze of back roads through the village till we find a small corner general store. With no fuel to offer, the owner tells us to ask at the Sand Dunes National Park, another 15kms further. "I am like you. This is my first time in this village," Sitah says when I ask which way to get back to the main road.

A man on the side of the road flags me down just as Sitah had done the day before. "Camel safari?" the man asks. "No, but do you know where I can get petrol?" "Eighty rupees for a liter from that bike there. Do you have a hose?" He says. I do not, and I don’t want to pay inflated rates for the fuel.

Men, women, and children with camels in a multitude of positions and wearing just as many colors line the side of the road, each trying to flag me down, also in the same way Sitah had. I'm glad I came across Sitah first. Had I come to this area and all these camel drivers before him I would not have stopped, thinking he was just another tout.
The sensual curves of the Sam Sand Dunes fly by, but I am more concerned with finding petrol than observing their beauty. Small shacks full of turbaned men selling snacks and camel rides line the road, but none have the needed fuel. I continue on another four kilometers to the village of Sam, waiting for the bike to stall at any moment. Stopping at every shop and asking for petrol we get sent on to the next shop, and the next shop, till we reach the end of the village. There’s no going further; there is little beyond this sandy village before reaching the border of Pakistan.

Sitah uses my phone to call his future father-in-law who says he will try to find a liter and bring it to us. So we wait. A boy offers to sell us petrol from a nearby motorcycle at much-inflated prices. Sitah pulls me aside, “These people, I hate that they are cheating you. People in my area, no cheat. Honest. Not like this.”

“Can I see your papers? Passport and visa?” a non-descript man demands. “No,” I answer cautiously, taking him to be just another too curious onlooker. “I am border patrol officer, you will show me your papers,” he retorts. Oh, in that case ... I pull out my passport and hand it to the man. He looks over it for a few seconds, and then says, “You cannot be here. This village is off limits to foreigners. You have to leave.” I think for a second then respond, “I can’t leave till I have petrol.” “Ok, but you have to leave,” he insists. “That’s fine, but I have to have petrol to leave.” “But you cannot be here.” “Get me petrol and I will be gone, but I can’t leave till I have fuel.” “Ok, ok.” A man comes with a motorcycle that has spare fuel, and we use a hose to siphen out one liter.

Back on the bike, Sitah and I reach the Sam Sand Dunes as the shadows are growing across the curves giving a deepening sense of space. In the distance, tourists on camels stomping through the sand cover the rest of the dunes, but this dune in front of me has no tracks and only two camels with riders in the background. Sitah waits patiently. This is nothing new to him. “I can take you to places so much better than this if we went on a week safari,” he tells me.

“Pull off here,” Sitah yells over the noise of the engine and the wind. “I will meet my brother in law here. Go into the village and wait for me at Gamra’s sister’s.” I drive the bike up the dirt path to the first few homes on the peak of a hill overlooking the road. A few people look at me oddly, wondering what a white man on a motorcycle is doing in their village, but a commotion from the road distracts most from my presence.

Yelling at each other loud enough that I can hear them from 200 yards away, two men stand on the side of the road throwing punches while a third tries to keep them apart. A car pulls up and two men jump out, trying unsuccessfully to separate the men. Soon a sea of color surrounds the men, ebbing to one side then the other. More and more men try to pry the two fighters apart. Finally the sea splits and one man walks away from the crowd and away from the village towards the desert holding his face and ripped shirt.

Two women order me to follow them to their house and sit me on a cot in the courtyard. Children surround me, inspecting my bags and camera. One young man speaks broken English and we communicate as best as we can. “What am I doing here? I’m waiting for Sitah. Do you know him? He’s Gamra’s nephew? I think Gamra’s sister lives here.” He knows Sitah and tell me he will be there shortly.

The young man finds a liter of petrol, and finally I have enough fuel to get back to Jaisalmer. The patriarch of the family comes back from a day of leading tourists on camel safaris. His
English is very good and he has an amazing mustache! Finally Sitah comes back, and I ask him what the fight was about. Apparently they were fighting over me. What? They started fighting over who would invite me into their house! Craziness. And I didn’t go to either of their houses.

The family serves me a plate of the delicious green bean vegetable and chapattis before Sitah tells me we are not staying here. "Too many kids, and they will bother you all night. We are going out to stay with my brother-in-law and sister who are farmers. It is about 6 kilometers. Are you ok driving on sand?” he ask. Uh, sure...I’ve done that twice before. “[Oh, and by the way] all three of us (Sitah, his brother-in-law, and myself) are going on your motorcycle.”

As three of us squeeze onto my 125cc Bajaj motorcycle. Sitah’s brother-in-law says he is scared - he has never ridden on a motorcycle before (or at least that is how it was translated to me). The dim headlight breaks through the darkness only lighting a few feet in front of me; tall grass on both sides of the road slap our legs and arms. Above me the night sky shines bright with stars but not enough to help my night sight. With every turn the road steadily disintegrates into deeper sand, and with the weight of three men on the small bike my steering gets worse and worse. Soon I’m driving only in first gear, my feet dragging through the sand to keep the bike upright, swerving around each turn in the road. A few times I hit sand too deep and the bike slips from under me, and all three feet on one side press on the ground to keep the bike upright. At one point Sitah tells me, "Drive on ahead, we will walk over this hill. The sand is too deep for all three of us to ride." With sand spitting from the tires, I swerve my way to the top and down the other side.

I let the engine idle then die as I look at the scene around me bathed in moonlight. The silence of the desert is overwhelming. When will I be here again, on the opposite side of the planet experiencing what few foreigners have experienced? It can never fully be expressed in the written word or in photos. It can only be felt in every sense; the sound of the breeze blowing through the grass and across the sands, the smell of the fresh clean desert air, the sight of the dim moonlight highlighting the rise and fall of the desert hills.

The other two come over the hill and get back on the bike. Sputtering off again into the darkness, a light in the distance follows our movement between the fields of okra. Sitah yells a greeting in the light's direction and it disappears back into the makeshift structure it came from. Sitah points to a path leading off into the dark and I bounce over the tire ruts. Ahead of me a scene unfolds of a family, from an old mustached man to young toddlers, gathered around a fire, sitting on cots and eating chapattis. Makeshift tents surround the group covered by black tarps and supported by hay bales. The turban clad patriarch smokes on his pipe as he asks me questions about myself. Sitah pulls me off to the side and tells me we are going to sleep outside the family's circle. "The children will be too loud. You won't sleep," he says. He sets me up with a cot and blankets near the edge of the field.

Friday, September 17

I wake up with the first hint of light to discover a world of color. The women are busy, each at their own tent chopping firewood, making chai over a fire, or churning curd (yoghurt). The men sit enjoying their chai, preparing for the day in the field. As the oranges and reds of dawn fade into the blue of day, the children awake. Mothers bathe their little ones and make them drink their tea. I say goodbye and thank everyone for their hospitality. Gamrah's son had been working with this family on the farm, but he had instructed Sitah to bring him back. The three of us get back on the motorcycle, driving out the opposite way we came in. I thought this might be a shortcut, but we somehow come back to the main road at the same place we got off it the night before.

Churning dahi (yoghurt)

The family (Sitah's brother-in-law's family)

Sitah and I before heading back towards Jaisalmer

With the weight of two men, a teenager, and my pack on the small motorcycle I worry about making the 40 kilometers back to Jaisalmer on the little fuel that is left in the tank, but we sputter into town. Sitah tells me to pull over as we get into traffic, pointing to the police. "Tripling is illegal. I'll put [Gamrah's son] on a bus and walk to your hotel," he tells me. "Alright, I'll drop off the motorcycle and meet you back there."

I roll the bike into the rental shop, and the worker greets me, "You tricked me. You said you only paid 300 for the first day, but my boss said you paid 500. You must pay me 200 more for day two." "Actually I told you that I was only going to pay you 300 because I would return the bike before 9am the next day; I wasn't renting the bike for the whole day," I tell him. "Ok, you talk to boss when he gets here." I sit and wait till the boss gets here, preparing for a mean negotiation.

The boss comes in with a big smile, greets me with a handshake, and asks how everything was. "Everything went great until I ran out of gas yesterday. I calculated out that I could go 250 kilometers on 5 liters of petrol, but I was empty after 150," I say. "You should have asked me what mileage the bike gets. Because it's an old bike, and other riders don't treat it nicely, it's only getting between 25 to 30 kilometers per liter instead of the 50 it should be getting," he informs me. "Do you know computers?" he asks. He turns on his computer and asks me to fix a number of things, including his virus software. He tells me he wants to learn to speak English better, so I sign him up for an account on LiveMocha.com, a free language-learning tool. I tell him I need to go back to my hotel and he asks me to come back and join him while I wait for my train.

Sitah is not yet at my hotel room, so I get cleaned up and packed preparing to catch my train that afternoon. He comes to say goodbye before catching the bus back to his village. I really loved my time with him, my experience in Rajasthan would have been much different without our chance meeting.

The seven hour train ride from Jaisalmer to Jodhpur is one the dustiest experiences in my life. I bought a sleeper class ticket because its close to $10 cheaper, but I didn't think about the fact that I'm riding through the desert. At some points during the voyage the train car is so full of floating dust particles that you can hardly see from one end to the other. A thick layer of dirt covers everything, including myself. I try to get away from it by sitting on the top bunk but to no avail.

An attempt to show how dirty I was after the train ride from Jaisalmer to Jodhpur, the dustiest train ride of my life. You can kind of see it in my hair and on my glasses.

Jodhpur at 10:30pm is dark and pretty quiet. I walk to the hotel where I had made a reservation, about five minutes from the station. I seem to be the only person in the place, and even though I paid for a shared dorm room I have the huge room with six beds and attached bath to myself. I clean off myself and my stuff and sleep till 5am, when I have to get up and run to the train station to catch the train to Ahmedabad. Onboard I split my time between sleeping, staring annoyingly at the man that is snoring absurdly loud, and catching up on my journaling.

In Ahmedabad I walk past all of the pestering rickshaw drivers straight to the one guy that stands patiently by his rickshaw. I tell him, "Domestic Airport," and he gives the patent rickshawala nod and jumps in. I wish I would be able to speak more with the rickshawalas; I'm sure they have incredible stories to tell. At the airport I hand the man 80 rupees, and he nods at me approvingly. I love when there is no problem, no negotiation, no struggle, no lasting feeling of frustration and discontent between myself and the rickshawalas. This happens more than I'd like to admit. I knew the approximate distance between the station and the airport and know that it should be roughly 10rs per kilometer. In my past experiences in the state of Gujurat, although the overall experiences have been frustrating, the rickshaw drivers do not quote you a price when you get in the rickshaw. If you give them the appropriate amount not a word is spoken, but they give you a gratifying nod and smile letting you know they are pleased with the transaction. There is something wonderfully satisfying about this.

This brings my time in India to a close. I do not know when I will return, but I will someday. I have wanted to, for as long as I can remember, live overseas in a completely new cultural context. Now I have, though for only a year and a few months, and it was overall an amazing experience. I met amazing people, traveled to incredible places, got incredibly sick and was amazingly happy. I volunteered, made some money, and lost some money. I wish that I could continue to travel and live like this, but it's time that I concentrate on establishing my career so, perhaps, someone will pay me to travel!

The adventure is far from over. Even though I am stateside I will continue updating you with my travels and works. I am incredibly behind on editing and posting of works from the last two months, so updates should be more forthcoming. I would love to hear from you.

Quick Redesign

2010-11-08T23:22:00.000+05:30

If you haven't noticed already I did a quick redesign of the blog to incorporate my new logo. Let me know what you think.

Mountain Workshops 2010

2010-10-24T20:13:00.000+05:30

Last night concluded my first Mountain Workshops, a photography workshop focused on photojournalism. Surrounded by amazing coaches, photographers doing amazing things in their field, I had a great experience. It was a challenge, it pushed me, but I had great support. I was frustrated by the story (or lack of apparent story) that I drew out of the hat, but after two rough days I had a breakthrough, both shooting and with figuring out what my story was. This was my first time doing a photostory in the pure journalistic sense. I am proud of the result, and will publish it on here sometime soon.

It's been a crazy month since I've been back in the US. This week just added to it. Almost a month ago I bought a used car, a 2005 Scion xB. I really loved it; it was the perfect car for me. Just the right amount of space, great gas mileage, and fun to drive. Wednesday, in search of a feature story in the morning light of Elizabethtown, Kentucky, I did something stupid and this is the result.

So ends the story of Carlos, my perfect car for a month. He is totaled, but I'm lucky to be uninjured, as are the two guys and a dog from the other car. I am sad to see him go. But I can't wait to find Carlos, Jr.

Indian Celebrity Magazine Shoot

2010-10-13T10:19:00.000+05:30

Sorry it's been a while. A lot has happened in the last month. I went to Rajasthan, I moved back to the United States, I stayed in New York for three weeks, bought a car, drove to Massachusetts, climbed two mountains in New Hampshire, and tomorrow I finally drive back to Indiana. Oh, I also changed my logo.

New business cards are printed, and I'll get my website updated. The old web address will still work, but my new official address is www.dscottclarkphoto.com. There are just too many Scott Clark photographers.

I'll leave you with a shoot that I did way back in June of the Bollywood star, Dino Morea. It will be a fitness feature in an Indian celebrity magazine (hopefully it will be published next month). It was a great experience and Dino was fun to work with. My good friends Sharad and Vinay helped me out on the shoot, and Sharad secured a set of studio strobes with a 60 inch octabox for me with an additional lighting guy!

I shot this on the roof of the gym with ambient light and two speedlites.

The feature includes Dino's trainer helping him with his workout.

I am excited to see it in print. Hopefully I can get my hands on a copy.

I am overloaded with images from shoots I haven't been able to edit yet, so lots of updates will be coming soon!

Malaysia!

2010-09-07T17:41:00.001+05:30

I stopped in Kuala Lumpur on my trip to Indonesia last September, but besides a blissful sleep on comfortable benches and a bus ride around the airport, no time was actually spent on Malaysian soil. After Amy and I had a mediocre (read: frustrating) experience traveling in Gujurat, we started looking into destinations nearby India for a taste of something different. We found cheap flights from Mumbai to Kuala Lumpur, and our next adventure was set.

A maddeningly slow rickshaw driver starts off our journey taking us to the airport at 20kmph, but we arrive in Kuala Lumpur with no other hassles. KL, in contrast to the insanity of Mumbai, is incredibly clean, orderly and functioning. An express train runs straight from the airport to the Sentral Train Station and many busses offer even cheaper means of getting to downtown. Amy sleeps for the hour and half trip and I entertain myself with the badly subtitled english movie. We had set up with a couch surfer to stay at their house, but we realized when we arrived at their train station that they are pretty far from the airport and far away from everything in the city, so we got back on the train and found a small room in Chinatown. The market in Chinatown is overflowing with activity, vendors selling everything from fresh fruit to footwear.

More photos and story after the break! -->

Ginormous butterfly outside the Petronas towers.

Amy and I find our way to the Petronas Towers, as the tallest twin buildings in the world - a major attraction of KL, and wander through the mall on the first few floors. We don't even bother to go into the ridiculously expensive brand stores like Gucci, Coach, etc, but feeling hungry we search out the most Malay food we could find - A&W Restaurant and Rootbeer. My cheeseburger and Amy's coneydog were mighty delicious.

We leave early the next morning to catch our flight to Kuching on the island of Borneo. We are lucky that the security is easy at the Low Cost Airlines Terminal because we are quite late.

Kuching is a nice small city situated on a river, but inland several miles from the sea. Outside of the city there are several National Parks and things to do, so we decide just to use it as our base and do day trips from here. We only have a week and don't want to be moving around the entire time.

The large pink mosque in downtown Kuching.

The public bus leaves every hour for Bako National Park and takes about an hour to drop us off at the reception area. From there we have to take a small motorboat to get to the actual park that drops us off a ways off shore because it is low tide. The jungle comes right to the edge of the beach on top of black sandstone cliffs. The park has several trail options that range from an hour to two days, but we select one that leads to "The best beach at Bako" (3 points) that should take a few hours roundtrip. The trail takes us up steep switchbacks through the thick vegetation till it levels out, where the sun mercilessly slaps you from its high vantage point. Begging for the coolness of the ocean and panting for the little bit of water we brought with us, we finally reach the beach...

Our major pull to Borneo was the Orangutans, which you can read about in my previous post.

The only accessible beach that is not in a national park is Damai Resort, and at the recommendation of the tourist office we spend our third day here. The weather is poor and the beach is nothing to get excited about, but it was a nice place to relax.

We meet up with Jammie, a host from Couchsurfing.org, who graciously brings us into her home. She suggests that we go to the Kubah National Park, which is nearby, for more trekking and to see a waterfall. Sounds good to us.

We hire a taxi to take us to the entrance of the National Park, then after a friendly introduction to the park by the ranger we walk up a never ending hill to get to our trail. Of all of the jungles I've been in around the world (East Africa, Costa Rica, India, Indonesia, Washington) this is the first forest I've trekked in that I felt I was actually in the "Jungle". I guess my idea of the jungle comes from the movies, but this is finally it. Something about the vegetation is different, exotic. The trees block out the sun and roots form an intricate maze to navigate. Stingless bees make their homes inside hollow trees, building an intricate system of tubes. Ferns slap you as you walk, and birds and insects make a deafening sound.

Amy loves the smell of adventure.

Amy enjoying the cool waters.

The waterfall is beautiful, and we are glad to be cooled by the water, but it's not quite as large as we had imagined. After maybe five minutes of enjoying the waterfall it starts to downpour. "How was your trek?" asks the ranger on the way out. "Great! But we got pretty wet," I say. "That's why they call it a rainforest..." The ranger drives us into the next village so we can catch a bus back to Kuching.

We decide to go to a "Rainforest Resort" near Damai Beach for our last morning in Kuching. We rent a kayak and paddle around in the surf in the rain. It was the perfect ending to our time in Kuching.

A commuter train station on the way to the Kuala Lumpur airport.

With a quick flight back to Kuala Lumpur, a night in a small hotel, and a longer flight across the Indian Ocean we arrive back in Mumbai. I would love to explore Malaysia in more depth, but it was a pretty successful trip/vacation.

Orangutans!

2010-08-26T17:04:00.000+05:30

When my girlfriend and I were discussing where to go in Malaysia, she said we, without question, had to go to Borneo. I honestly hadn't looked into Malaysia any further than Kuala Lumpur, so after looking at what Borneo (Malaysia's eastern two states) had to offer I was sold. Amy's main reason for wanting to go to the island was Orangutans, their only natural habitat.

While in Kuching, in the state of Sarawak, we took a day trip to the Semenggoh Nature Reserve. Twice every day workers put out bananas, coconuts, and other fruits on a platform and call out into the deep jungle letting the primates know "Dinner's On!"

More Images after the Break! -->

The other monkeys.

What attracts the orangutans day after day, food.

You cannot see it too clearly here, but this orangutan is enjoying his snack while doing an overextended splits, an unimaginable position

In the park, they also have saltwater and freshwater crocodiles, but most of these are in cages while rehabilitating.

This crocodile was the largest I have ever seen. I think his mouth was large enough to encompass my entire body, but up against the wall in his cage and I couldn't get a clear shot at him.

I will post the rest of my trip to Malaysia soon.

The Rat

2010-08-22T20:05:00.001+05:30

Sorry, it's been a while. My girlfriend and I have been traveling in the south of India and Malaysia since the beginning of August. The trips were amazing and I'll post some photos shortly.

I just moved into a beautiful new apartment my friend rented in the suburb of Mumbai called Santacruz. I will only be here a month before I fly back to the states (I'm bought my ticket, I'm coming home 20th September! Well, "home" being NYC for a few weeks), but glad to be out of my old apartment that only had running water about 2 hours a day (mostly while I was sleeping) and was very far from all of my friends (with terrible traffic). This apartment has a few things that need to be fixed: it leaks when it rains, the bathroom sink refuses to drain, and the airvent in the kitchen is broken. The last thing seems to be in the most urgent need of fixing. The fan will not spin and there is a rodent sized hole in the cover.

We had been finding rat feces scattered about the kitchen since we moved in, but had never encountered one of them (and I have only been here since Wednesday). Thursday we came home to a pot full of water mysteriously fallen off the counter, sitting on the floor in a puddle. "The wind must have pushed it off the stove?" Amy said trying to convince herself. That night, with a loud crash, the same pot found its spot on the ground again. I turn on the light to catch sight of the creature bounding from the counter to the fridge and out the broken vent. I try to tape the vent shut, but its a poor job and the rat came back in that night when I was asleep.

We buy a metal live trap and some wire to fix the vent. With the vent securely shut, we're still finding feces, so we hope the rat will find the trap. That evening we find the trap on top of the refrigerator caught its intended prey. I reach my hand up to grab the trap and...the little bugger bursts through the spring door, jumps to the counter and then behind the fridge.

I reset the trap and put it on the floor, hoping the rat is dumb enough to get caught in the same trap twice. Luckily, when I woke up I found him curled up in the cage. I put the door against the wall and went back to bed.

As I prepared to dispose of the rat I thought, I can't not take a photo of this occasion. So I pulled out two flashes and went to town. He was a real trooper.

More Photos after the Break! -->

Attention to Detail

2010-07-31T01:19:00.002+05:30

I did a shoot in Andhra Pradesh for a development company at the beginning of July. I thought I had been hired to do interiors for finished residential projects, but I mostly shot infrastructure. I did one interior shoot in an impressive apartment of a pilot. This is his entertainment room...

One hand held speedlite in the corner pointed at the recliners

One of the things I've found frustrating here in India is getting detailed information before a shoot. It seems I go in blind even though I demand more details. And somehow an infrastructure project turned into a portrait shoot of one of the directors.

One speedlite shot through translucent lite disc in front and to
the left of the subject. One bare speedlite behind and to the left.

I am leaving Monday for a week back in Hampi and then flying to Malaysia for a week. I hopefully will have something to show from both of these trips. (My camera is being repaired by Canon India, and it's up in the air whether the camera will be finished by monday morning. They've had my 50mm lens for a month and half, so I'm becoming doubtful.)

Bidar - January 2010

2010-07-14T15:45:00.002+05:30

While in Hyderabad in January for a job, I went to visit my friends, the Lunberrys. They took me with them to Bidar, Karnataka for a day trip to look at the bidriware artisans in this small town. I realized recently that I never touched the photographs I took that day. Here are few examples.
This fort in Bidar was built in the 14th & 15th centuries by the Bahamani Kings. It's a large fort, surrounded by 3 miles of wall.

More Photos after the break! -->>

Fellow tourist that looks much more native in her surroundings than I do.

An artisan carving on a Bidriware vessel.

A finished product

Made in India...if you were wondering.

Glad to Fly

2010-07-13T12:04:00.001+05:30

I love to fly. Maybe it's because my dad is a pilot or its the young boy in me that can't get enough of seeing jet liners, but it's undeniable either way. That being said, I don't like being late to ALL of my flights on a trip.

Last friday, my girlfriend, er Assistant, and I left for the airport at 4am. Strangely, it took us almost half an hour to get a rickshaw. We ended up waking a sleeping rickshaw wallah and offering him a huge bonus for taking us. I get us moved past the line because of the immediacy of our impending flight, and we rush through security, getting to the gate just as they are boarding. Yes, I took longer to pack in the morning than I should have, and yes, I should have arranged for a rickshaw the night before, but we got there - barely.

Flying over Vizag, Andhra Pradesh, I was quite surprised at the beauty of the city and the surrounding landscape. The city wasn't even on my radar of places to visit, but now, someone else was paying me to be there. I'm fine with that. The beach on the Indian Ocean looked inviting and not polluted and the city itself looked worthy of a good exploration. The ad firm representative greets us as we get off the plane, and we start off on our busy three day shooting schedule.

Up till now I had received little details of what I was actually taking photos of, but I learn that todays shoot was all about infrastructure. The construction company is working on an oil refinery just outside of Vizag, and a dam project about two hours drive from the city.

They give us rubber boots to wear around the muddy construction site, but after walking for a while I develop large blisters on my sockless feet. So, I find it more comfortable to walk barefoot through the mud. I imagine that OSHA would throw a fit about the safety of me walking around barefoot on a construction site, but you got to do what you got to do.

A little bit closer now.

More Images and Story after the break!

My lovely assistant looking natural on a construction site.
The beautiful interior of what will be a very large reservoir in a few years.

The construction company is finishing the structure of the dam, but shepherds still graze their goats and cattle here on the lush grass while they can.

Pre-mentioned shepherd.

We eat our dinner at a classy hotel, then gladly sleep after a very long day of traveling and work. We sadly don't have a chance to explore the city of Vizag before leaving in the morning. The night before we were told to be ready by 7:45am, so we come down at 7:40 and are told to have our breakfast. The ad rep still is no where to be seen till sometime after 8am. Our flight is at 8:55, but I sit back unworried. If we miss our flight, I am in no way responsible. We get to the airport by 8:30 and hurry through security. Getting to the gate well after the boarding time we find the line still long to enter the gate.

In Hyderabad we shoot a few projects underway around the airport and head towards a major residential apartment complex being constructed in the suburbs of the city. It will eventually be 13 towers of 30 floors, with any amenities you can imagine, including a putting range.

I cover any angle of the constructed sight I can think of, then they send me up in a giant crane to get some overview shots. I enjoy this. I would love to shoot a lot of things from this angle.

Amy enjoying herself with the construction workers while I float around in the crane basket.

I love the possibilities of shooting directly down on your subject. It's a view that is rarely seen

Amy glad for a break from holding the weight of my camera bag.

Sunday, we do a shoot inside one of their completed residential projects and finish up some odds and ends. Finally, Amy and I have time to explore. I take her to the site that Hyderabad is known for, Charminar.

Being a tourist

The first time I came to Hyderabad in 2007, my friend Shrav took me (and his bride's family members) to this ice place not far from Charminar. I couldn't remember exactly where it is, so I ask the rickshaw driver where there is a famous ice cream place on this street. "Nearby? No. No ice cream. Do you mean Nampally?" he asks. Umm, yes?

Why yes, this is it! It's even called Famous Ice Cream! How convenient

A friend of mine is having a World Cup Final party, and we watch the regular time match, but it's already 12:30am and we have to wake up at 6. A friend of Joel's takes us back to our guest house (Hill View, a beautiful place sitting on a hill in Jubilee hills that overlooks much of the city, including Golkanda fort). We celebrated, yelling very loudly, at 2am when spain finally scored a goal, in the 2nd half of their 30 minute extra time.

I ignore my alarm at 6am and the ad rep finally calls at 8am asking if we are ready. I am supposed to do headshots of one of the directors of the company, but a car never comes to pick us up. We finally get to his house around 10:30am, when our flight is at 12:10pm. We rush through the shots, then jet to the airport - further away than I remember it being. We are the last ones to check counter (They immediately call the gate saying we are coming, please wait for us). We hurry through security and to the gate while they repeatedly call our names over the intercom, "Mr Clark Scott and Mr Amy Zeigner, please come to gate 24. This is the last call for boarding." Thankfully, we get to our seats and enjoy the flight home.

It's good to be working again. Although its stressful and frustrating at times, I enjoy what I do. I can't ask for much more than that.

I'm getting ready for another bout of traveling. I may be able to update along the way this time.

Chapter 1: Journey to Kashmir

2010-07-08T19:20:00.001+05:30

May 22-24

The beauty of Kashmir even before we reach the proper valley.
This was taken out of a moving van window, not ideal conditions for photography
Regretfully, I've found that I rarely do things without reason. I guess this comes naturally with my stringent reliance on logic and reason (I am an ENTP personality with close to 100% on the Thinking category). While this is not all bad and I generally relish and embrace my need for sound logic, in this particular case I wish I would operate more freely on feelings. I cannot seem to get myself to travel merely on the wind urging me to go. I sit mostly content in my unscheduled but somehow always busy life until some distinctive reason says, "Travel!" I wish I were more spontaneous. This reason can be quite large or quite small: my family visiting my eldest sister in Europe so I take a month to travel "freely" or a distant whispering, "Hey, lets go climb a mountain in Indonesia."

Rumors of a road trip to the Himalayas started spreading some time in February. Even while being wary of group travel, I said I was interested. Through the flurry of emails plans were made, changed, and changed again. At last it's time to leave, plans only partially formulated - how I prefer it. I'm taking a train, arriving in Delhi Saturday morning. Carrie flies in that afternoon and we meet her friend's empty flat. "I'm only going to be here three more months, so why bother with furniture, right?" the friend told me. Carrie and I have about 30 hours to waste in Delhi before the rest of the group arrives and we take our train north.

The first time I came to Delhi in 2007 I didn't really care for it. I do not naturally like cities, so something really has to grab me if I am going to say I like it. But now, after living in Mumbai, a city that I enjoy living in because of the amazing international cultural activity, I am impressed by New Delhi. Where Mumbai is constantly bustling, incredibly packed; the streets encroached by markets, street vendors and every possible variation of vehicles, no open space left unused; Delhi has a multitude of green parks with walking space and trees, open roads with traffic that never seems to get overly packed - at least Mumbai-every-day packed. Some of the roads even have bicycle paths separate from the motor AND foot traffic - which I enjoyed seeing the locals taking full advantage of. Bicycle shares with rentable green colored bikes sport he length of the path. I felt a sense that I could stretch out; I could breath. But the flipside is everything in New Delhi is really far apart, and haggling with rickshaw drivers makes me miss Mumbai's that automatically use the meter with no debate.

Ravi, Taylor and Cammy come from the airport to Khan Market, and after picking up kebab rolls to go, we race off to an outlying train station. Luckily it is on a metro line (Delhi has a very impressive underground metro system that is still expanding. It should be finished this summer for the Commonwealth Games. This system makes the quality of the NYC subway seem Third World). Rushing to get on our train on time, we arrive with only minutes to spare - but it doesn't leave for almost 45 minutes after the scheduled time of departure. Finally we can enjoy our kebabs. We are mostly Americans, and we are incredibly loud, joking and laughing into the night. I am glad I travel with earplugs because the large Indian man on the bunk above me has one of the loudest, most intense snores I've ever heard.

Jammu is hot. We try to find a bus to take us to Srinagar, but none of them seem up to par. A conductor of a shuttle yells to us as the vehicle pulls out, "Other bus stand, five kilometers. Have deluxe bus. Yes." We quickly find on arrival that there are no deluxe buses. We cram into a shared 14-passenger microbus and bounce off toward the mountains.
Everyone excited to be on our way to the Kashmir Valley. The stars of the show: Taylor, Cammy, Carrie, and Ravi.

The view from my seat in the van.
Click image to see larger.

Taylor Enjoying the sunlight on the road to Srinagar.

Don't stop here, more story and images inside --->>

The trip is uneventful till we reach a military checkpoint before entering Kashmir Valley. Cammy discovers she lost her passport. She doesn't remember if the money exchange teller at the airport gave it back to her. The police hold us for over an hour, finally letting us go when Cammy gives her drivers license and Ravi leaves all his contact information. The officer calls Ravi repeatedly till we have the passport number, but still we can't find the visa number (losing your passport is a big hassle!).

[Turns out Cammy was right. The Forex teller delivered the passport to the Delhi Airport Authority who would not release any information in the passport to us. Finally, after three days of repeated phone calls, emails, trips to the Srinagar Airport, the US Consulate gained control of the passport and sent scanned copies to Cammy we would could continue our journey.]

Back on the jeep journey: After we pass the military checkpoint and go through a 7km long tunnel through a mountain we enter "The Magical Kashmir Valley," as one of our fellow travelers (who looks like a Kashmiri Bret, from Flight of the Concords) called it. We arrive in Srinagar quite late and the driver drops everyone off except our group. At each stop suspect looking men try to jump on board, attempting to convince us the go to their guesthouse or houseboat. Ravi sets up a houseboat for us over the phone and with insistence asks the touts to leave the vehicle.

The major attraction in Srinagar is Dal Lake, where hundreds of houseboats sit in shallow water seemingly only for tourists. To get to your houseboat you must take a shikara, a fancy human-powered water taxi. Our houseboat has two bedrooms and a dining room. Where the othere were fine with this kind of kitschy tourist accommodation paid for at a premium, I would rather stay in a guesthouse for $2 per night. I also do not like being dependent on the water taxis for transportation. You can't just walk out your door down the street.
The entrance to the houseboat.

The water lane called home by our boat.

Carrie enjoying piloting our sinking Shikara around Dal Lake

A lone Shikara hiding amongst the weeds

The tunnel of trees. We were wary to go any further. (3 pts!)

Carrie gets us safely out of there

Don't stop here, read the next chapter, "Srinagar and Pahalgam".

Chapter 2: Srinagar and Pahalgam

2010-07-08T19:16:00.002+05:30

May 25-26

Carrie and I relaxing on our luxurious shikara ride

While Cammy and Taylor are at the airport trying to sort out getting the passport, Ravi, Carrie and I do the "Tour of Srinagar." A rickshaw takes us to one garden after another. The first has manicured grass, interesting flowers, shrubs and trees, and an aptly named "Mini Lake."

Ravi and Carrie fully enjoying their time at the gardens

Don't stop here, more story and images inside --->>

The second: a mountain spring flowing through fountains and troughs. At the top you can drink from a small waterfall before the water is contaminated by people's feet. Ravi challenges me, "I bet you can't walk across this retaining pond [filled with mountain water]", and without a second thought I step confidently into the ankle-deep water. In slow motion one foot slides from under me, then the other. I fight to stay upright, flailing and running in place. All hope of standing disappears with a splash as the right side of my body submerges. Of course, I'm holding my camera in my right hand and despite my valiant effort it receives its first bath. I guess it needed to be cleaned since the Holi incident, but full submersion of the 5DmkII is not recommended. But credit Canon, with a quick drying effort the camera seems to have survived the incident, accepting its brutal cleaning. Ravi looking over his domain

Immediately after falling into the fountain. You can't see it so well, but I am soaked.

We eat South Indian food in the northernmost state for lunch, then despite my objections of going to yet another garden, we spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on soft grass under the shade of a mighty tree. It's hard to complain about that.
Lounging in the shade of a giant tree on soft grass with great friends = amazingness.

Carrie has lounging in the grass down to an artform

Why yes, that is a roll of toilet paper in a Russian hat

So we do a Russian dance

And then handstands and handsprings

This of course is followed by ridiculous jumps

While Carrie tries to ignore us and pretend she didn't come with us

The park, despite my unwillingness to go in, was beautiful

A bridge in the middle of Dal Lake. I don't know why.
The gardens were built by the ruling Mughals several hundred years ago

As of yet, we really haven't experienced the mountains besides seeing them in the distance. Wednesday we had to escape the city into the beautiful mountains in a private car. We take a break near the river, enjoying the views and the cold mountain water before moving on to a village for lunch.
Shikaras awaiting passengers

Carrie testing the waters near Pahalgam, Kashmir

Cammy enjoying the scenery

Carrie refreshed after getting splashed in the face by Ravi (The water is quite cold)

Taylor "not posing"

And the close-up

Guides try to get us to do horseback tours from the village, but I think the trails would be too crowded with Indian tourists. We go on to a foot trail leading across the river and up a smaller mountain. It's late in the day so we don't have a ton of time.
Beauty

Carrie miniturized by the towering trees

I can feel my lungs straining to keep up as we climb at 8,000 feet, but the exercise energizes my body. This is only a taste of what I live for - I want to fly, to go until my lungs burst and my muscles refuse to go one more step. I wait for the rest of the group to catch up; glad that I'm with friends, but wishing we were on the same page. The path takes us first past scenic guesthouses along the river, then up into the trees, tall and reaching for the heavens. We reach a grassy meadow fit for a Bollywood love song where horses graze. A skinny mare allows me to get close enough to pet her mane. I miss my youth riding my uncle's pony, Bam Bam. I follow the sound of a mountain stream beyond the next rise and see a collection of piecemeal huts lining the hill. Children come running to us, neighing like horses. Why? I couldn't tell you.
A pony!

Can you get much cuter?

yes.

Carrie in her usual position, internalizing thoughts in the beautiful spot where I'm trying to photograph...

This kid is a character

Cammy for her close up

I love my 50mm f/1.4 lens!

No words...

Sporting my aviator shades

Carrie doing her impression of Jesus with the Lamb

We spend time exploring the stream and the young boys excitedly show us their sheep. For living in makeshift tents on the side of a mountain in India, they seem to have a pretty good grasp on basic English. Hopefully that means they are getting to go to a decent school. The families invite us into one of their dirt floor dwellings, the mud stove sharing the same space as the baby calves. They serve us salted butter tea, which many of us find hard to stomach; it's thick and overly salty. But we are grateful for their hospitality. I think if Kashmiris would want to be called only one thing I would be hospitable - notable even in a country that prides itself on hospitality.

Proving that I am, in fact, the king of the hill

Don't stop here, read the next chapter, "Journey to Leh".

Chapter 3: Journey to Leh

2010-07-08T19:12:00.002+05:30

May 27-29

Thursday we plan on waking up early to catch a bus to Kargill, the halfway point between Srinagar and Leh, but Balill informs us as he serves us tea the bus left at 7:00 AM. We have to hire a jeep to take us, which winds up being nice in comparison to the prospective hellish bus ride. The road is extremely curvy, but mostly in good shape. The Toyota SUV flies past lories (very large trucks) as it climbs the mountains. Ravi takes nonstop photos of the mountains and asks why I am not. It's cloudy and dark; the photos taken from a moving vehicle's window would neither do the mountains or my photography justice.

We go through incredible passes with remarkable views of valleys and peaks. A monument covered by Tibetan prayer flags lightly covered with fresh snow slaps in the wind - I wish I could have photographed this, but there was no opportunity to stop. We are hoping to reach Kargill by 9 PM, but we are stopped by the police at a checkpoint, the road is under construction for the next three hours, so we wait till six when we can move again, only to get stopped by a landslide for another hour. We reach Kargill around 12:30am. After getting turned away from a few guesthouses, Ravi gets us a deal for a room and we crash on the floor and the bed. The bus supposedly leaves at 5 AM. We get to the stand by 4:45 to find it sold-out. A group of Indian travelers and two Frenchmen also desperate for a way to Leh hire a private van with us and we arrive in Leh in the early afternoon.

Don't stop here, more story and images inside --->>

Typical valley village in Ladakh

SNOW!!!!!!!!!!! This excites me.

Very curvaceous

A lady from NYC I met along the way recommended Zapati guesthouse for us and without any other known options we set off through Leh, looking for it, knowing only roughly the area to look in. I ask a man in the market for the direction to Karzu, where the Zapati is located, and he informs us he owns a guesthouse. We follow, but I am skeptical. He leads us up a long alley, and after several turns we reach his building. The rooms are beautiful, large windows wrap around two sides of the room providing beautiful views of the mountains and a stupa - a temple of sorts perched on the peak of a hill. The windows are framed by a nice brunette wood, topped by intricately carved designs that lead to the ceiling supported by thick blonder organic log posts retaining their natural blemishes and shapes. We are only paying $4.00 per night per person in the nicest room I've stayed in India!

My climbing friend from Mumbai owns a cafe and bouldering gym in Leh and organizes guided treks around Ladakh. When looking for a place for dinner, I see the sign for the cafe, GraviT. It's a nice little shop with a bar for mixing drinks and a few tables; two walls feature artificial climbing holds on brightly painted plywood. Vaibhav says some locals are coming regularly, but he's just now getting advertisements put up in guesthouses and cafes to attract foreign tourists. Another friend, Viraj, from Mumbai is here for a few weeks climbing. I am hoping to stay with Vaibhav when my friends leave Wednesday.

Don't stop here, read the next chapter, "Leh, Ladakh".

Chapter 4: Leh, Ladakh

2010-07-08T19:03:00.001+05:30

May 29-30

After lunch on Saturday the three girls and I decide to explore just outside of the city. Ravi wants some alone time. We find our way through the streets to the entrance to the Leh palace, an impressive structure built on the ridge of the steep hill over looking Leh in the 17th century. The palace has a commanding view of all Leh, perched high on the hillside. We explore the rooms and views over the city sprawled out between the hills; the simple block structures of the homes helps me to imagine what it would have looked like 400 years ago.

Click on image to see larger

Don't stop here, more story and images inside --->>

Inside the temple in the palace

Rock on mr. five arms

We hike further up the hill to the monastery that sits atop the peak surrounded by Tibetan prayer flags. After every few steps you have to stop to rest, completely out of breath because of the elevation (after living at sea level for almost a year, 11,000 feet makes your lungs really work to get their oxygen). We climb to the very top of the monastery, using very sketchy wooden ladders, but what you see from the top is worth it.

Traveling with a group of friends has its benefits, namely, fun group photos

The Leh Monastary

Another view of the Monastary from GraviT Cafe

Leh from the Monastary

Self portrait overlooking Leh

Vendors selling dried apricots on the street while religiously spinning their prayer wheels

Ravi stays back again Sunday to meet with the pastor of a Moravian church, while Carrie, Taylor, Cammy and I head to the mountains. We catch a bus to the village of Stok, a name the group started calling me after our bus driver couldn't pronounce my name. It drops us at a tea stall at the base of the mountains. Our tea, coffee and pineapple juice finished, we begin we begin our trek along the rocky river bed that cuts through the valley between the arid, loose rock peaks while snow capped behemoths taunt us from just beyond our reach. Wonderful blue skies surround us on three sides, but dark gray clouds spitting precipitation sit directly over the path in front of us. As we head into the gully the storm seems to move away as if we were pushing it. Wild horses gather in the riverbed to eat any grass that may be growing between the stones.

We're crammed onto a minibus, heading to Stok

A few kilometers after we start, we see something resembling human made structures topping one of the peaks in front of us. Carrie reasons, "If someone built something up there, it can't be hard to get to." The slope leading up to it is full of landslide-threatening loose sedimentary stones with a few solid rock lines intermittently rising to the ridgeline. I start climbing, digging the sides of my feet into the loose stones and thrusting my way up till I reach solid rocks to climb, still wary of the crumbly rock's habit of coming loose in your hand. The girls are much more timid in their climbing, try to use both hands and feet, which causes their feet to push more out than down, making them slip far more frequently than if they would confidently trust their feet and press directly down. With much encouragement, we all reach the top and climb over the man-made stone wall into the remaining foundations of an ancient monastery or palace. Some of the structures remain partly intact with the help of mud mortar, but many are just rocks stacked no top of one another. While we eat lunch, three local girls come bounding up the backside of the ridge like they do it every day and make it to the very top of the structures. Now we have to do it.
Carrie and Taylor scrambling up the sliding mountain face

The incredible view from the top in the undecisive weather. (Behind us were still rain clouds)

The ruins of the fortress or monastery

The views are incredible looking back over the valley. The weather is constantly changing, giving the surrounding mountains different characteristics. We go down the way the three girls came up, and I find it easier to slide with the loose rocks like I was snowboarding than to carefully pick my way down. The girls again are more timid and make their way down the solid rocks. Eventually, we find the remains of the staircase that led up the mountain now mostly buried layers of loose rocks.

Sometimes, you just have to look up and enjoy the clouds

The bus conductor told me the bus would be back at 3:30, so at 2:00, we start back towards Stok. I don't like taking the same trail twice, so I walk on the opposite side of the river, bushwhacking my own trail, jumping from stone to stone. I enjoy this kind of hiking immensely - it uses much more of my brain capacity having to carefully place every step.

Showing Cammy why I carried this big plastic circle (my ringflash) around with me the whole day. To take portraits

We reach Stok just after 3:00 and wait for the bus at the tea stall. We wait. 4:00 PM, no bus. We ask when the bus should come: "5:30." I suggest we start walking back towards Leh rather than just waiting, and we find a taxi willing to take us for a very fair price. The views are spectacular of the mountains from the taxi as the sun dropps lower in the sky and plays on the on the backs of the clouds sitting neatly over the peaks.
This can never be a good thing

Here, all of the cows seem to have horns, but you can tell when what you're looking at is a bull. They just look meaner

When I saw this, it somehow reminded me of a Creme Savers candy - how the clouds create a patterned shadow on the mountains.

Great example of Virga: precipitation evaporating before it reaches the ground

Every night we would meet with Ravi at an ice cream shop and have mango shakes. It's a tradition I don't mind repeating. We find a restaurant open late called Tibetan Friends, where the waiter serves us with an enthusiasm unmatched by any waiter before him. Ravi suggests, "I think he's the only one open because he suffers from insomnia. That's the only way to explain his craziness."
Mango Shakes!!!!

Don't stop here, read the next chapter, "Pangong Tso".