Outdoor trekking opens a window on a wider world. A world of spectacular sunsets and subtle dawns. Of deep woods and towering mountains, silver sand beaches and rocky headlands. Of shimmering waterfalls, roiling rapids, and emerald‑green surf. Of scudding storm clouds and crescent moons. Of fecund wetlands teeming with life, and families of loons diving for their dinner on lonely lakes. Of the open road disappearing into distant mountain ranges. For all of my days, I’ve sought out such places. Now they’re fixed on the emulsion of memory, but I often want something more tangible. That’s when I pick up a brush. Or snap a shutter. And because time frequently presses, even in the backcountry, the shutter sees much more use than the brush.

Back when I made my first forays into “serious” photography, I used to haunt the post office, eager to see the fruits of my labors. But when I opened the envelope that held my slides and negatives — this was in the Age of Film, after all — I was often disappointed. To be sure, not many of my shots were out‑and‑out failures, but only a few captured the panoramic majesty of sky and water. So I went to school. Not literally, of course. Art school photography programs were well beyond my modest means. The public library was open to all, however. Ansel Adams was self‑taught, wasn’t he? I figured I could choose worse role models.

Job One was learning how to capture the big picture… Read more…

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