June 18, 2012
Finding my Moment
One of my biggest challenges on an expedition isn't necessarily the constant struggle with physical or mental obstacles, rather it is one simple daily task: choosing a picture that represents the 'feeling' of each particular day. OK, I guess that may be a bit of over statement as pressure ridges, thin ice, crevasses, avalanches and other objective hazards tend to add an unusual amount of severity to every conceivable action. Still, I am constantly surprised in the variety that each day presents and the ever increasing list of 'other adventures' along the way.
For example, I remember one day on our way to the North Pole when I managed to capture a picture of Darcy skiing around a huge block of ice. There were brutal wind gusts and so much spindrift that I could hardly see Darcy's lower half.
It's a huge effort to take pictures on the Arctic Ocean and I have to keep the camera inside my base layers so it won't freeze. Then, unzip my parka, pull out the camera, take off my mitten, freeze my hand… you get the idea.
Squinting through the frosty view finder, I knew that this would be the perfect image for the day: poor visibility, wind chills of â€"50 F, and Darcy's quiet reserve. Surprisingly, less than an hour later the wind dropped, the sky cleared and the ice changed so dramatically that I couldn't help but wonder if we were somehow teleported to another part of the ocean. That night in the tent scrolling through my pictures, I couldn't believe the difference in the day's images. I picked out three and asked the team to vote.
I was on a bike ride this morning with my good friend Peter Reese. We are in the planning process for several future projects and spent a couple hours bucking a nearly constant headwind. After many different expedition-related conversations, I commented, 'my challenge is to remain relevant while I'm not on an expedition.'
'Is my life boring?' I wondered after we parted ways and riding even slower into even more of a headwind. On an expedition, I am constantly taking pictures. My goal for each image is to perfectly describe that one moment: the sun peaking out, the overwhelming scale of Antarctica, walking across a ladder in the Khumbu. I want people to look at each picture and gain a better understanding and appreciation of these unique places. But what about Boulder, where I live? That's interesting too, right? Or how about making a salad? Or taking Oli for a walk. Those are instants. Are they any less relevant because I'm not freezing my you-know-what off? Do they tell a story?
With Maria gone for the week, I decided to give myself a new challenge (and it's also an introduction to a photo contest that I'm going to announce next week). Every day - for seven days, I'm going to take pictures â€" just like I would do on an expedition. Getting up, making breakfast, biking, walking the dog, etc. Then, at the end of each day, I'm going to pick out one picture that I think perfectly describes my day â€" or at least one important moment in the day â€" and post it on my facebook page.
The result? I'm not sure yet
However, in the event that this small photographic exercise proves that, yes, my life is boring, I will at least sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that I can pretend â€" at least for this week â€" that it's not.
Image: From last Friday: a quiet moment in the mountains.
For example, I remember one day on our way to the North Pole when I managed to capture a picture of Darcy skiing around a huge block of ice. There were brutal wind gusts and so much spindrift that I could hardly see Darcy's lower half.
It's a huge effort to take pictures on the Arctic Ocean and I have to keep the camera inside my base layers so it won't freeze. Then, unzip my parka, pull out the camera, take off my mitten, freeze my hand… you get the idea.
Squinting through the frosty view finder, I knew that this would be the perfect image for the day: poor visibility, wind chills of â€"50 F, and Darcy's quiet reserve. Surprisingly, less than an hour later the wind dropped, the sky cleared and the ice changed so dramatically that I couldn't help but wonder if we were somehow teleported to another part of the ocean. That night in the tent scrolling through my pictures, I couldn't believe the difference in the day's images. I picked out three and asked the team to vote.
I was on a bike ride this morning with my good friend Peter Reese. We are in the planning process for several future projects and spent a couple hours bucking a nearly constant headwind. After many different expedition-related conversations, I commented, 'my challenge is to remain relevant while I'm not on an expedition.'
'Is my life boring?' I wondered after we parted ways and riding even slower into even more of a headwind. On an expedition, I am constantly taking pictures. My goal for each image is to perfectly describe that one moment: the sun peaking out, the overwhelming scale of Antarctica, walking across a ladder in the Khumbu. I want people to look at each picture and gain a better understanding and appreciation of these unique places. But what about Boulder, where I live? That's interesting too, right? Or how about making a salad? Or taking Oli for a walk. Those are instants. Are they any less relevant because I'm not freezing my you-know-what off? Do they tell a story?
With Maria gone for the week, I decided to give myself a new challenge (and it's also an introduction to a photo contest that I'm going to announce next week). Every day - for seven days, I'm going to take pictures â€" just like I would do on an expedition. Getting up, making breakfast, biking, walking the dog, etc. Then, at the end of each day, I'm going to pick out one picture that I think perfectly describes my day â€" or at least one important moment in the day â€" and post it on my facebook page.
The result? I'm not sure yet
However, in the event that this small photographic exercise proves that, yes, my life is boring, I will at least sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that I can pretend â€" at least for this week â€" that it's not.
Image: From last Friday: a quiet moment in the mountains.