When I think of the south, it’s this sort of scene I have in mind. Snow capped peaks piercing clouds under vivid blue skies. Land so imposing that it commands not just your attention, but your time.

I could sit outside and just watch the clouds roll past for hours. Peaceful and still as the wind whips past and does its best to distract. It’s a genuine sense of calm I get here. Things are simple and the days ask for nothing more than to be enjoyed in the landscape. Sit under a tree and read. Wander a near-by path along the lakes edge or find your own through new places. No rush; no worry; just time and possibility. I could sit for hours.

“I think we say a lot about who we are through our work. It’s such a personal thing. Taking pictures. It really is. It’s an incredibly personal craft. It’s something that… is hard to share sometimes. But, if you aren’t sharing your work… what are you doing? Ya know?”

— Chris Burkard

I’ve been really struggling to maintain touch with photography over the last six months. I’ve bought, sold and moved residence, and to start our real little family, Emily and I have a baby girl on the way. Between the house and moving, baby preparations, work, holiday celebrations and the like I just have just not found the time; not made the time; to find my way back.

Instagram has been about my only saviour, but it’s not the same. It’s wonderful and a pocket-sized gift, but for all it’s ease and availability, it is ultimately missing something for me. Missing the craft. Photography, is a personal thing, and for me, it’s not something that 5-minutes here or 30-minutes there can satisfy as I squeeze it into my day. It’s not something that a sunset out shooting will ultimately cure, because it’s more than that. It’s the shooting, the editing and the creation of something that means a little more than it did when the camera went click. It’s the learning, the experimenting, the reading, the writing, the creation process with its direct and indirect influences. That’s the difference, to me, between something that’s an afterthought, quick and forgotten, and something that means something.

Chris Burkhard’s video, from which the quote above comes, really hits at me. It’s so much of what I feel about photography but seem incapable of articulating.

Emily asked for some photos of us printed recently. I get so tunnel visioned about the next thing that I often struggle to get through the present, and the simple act of printing and sharing my photos is something I’ve left on the “must do” pile for too long. Going back through the library and picking 100 to get printed and do something with was a renewing experience. You see so much of what you’ve made over time, and yet kept confined to a computer so that it can only truly be shared in a none-to-one experience as someone browses them from afar. It just seems wrong, especially when you finally get to hold and look at them.

Simple as it may be, I plan to stick a bunch up around my space at work. It’s a small step towards sharing in a more tangible sense and the photos help provide a reminder that there is more out there than work. I feel guilty sometimes, for letting photography occupy so much of my mind, especially when spending time with Em. Hopefully I can find a better way to share it all with her as well.

It was my birthday recently. Getting old is hard on a man. You have to let go of a lot of things: fitness, stamina, hair… it’s really not fair. It was my birthday recently, and although the battle for my follicle fortitude has long been fought and lost, time has not wearied my ability to irrationally justify impulse purchases, especially those related to technology.

Accordingly, when considering my rapidly busying work life and the impractical nature of my primary camera rig, I was somehow able to come up with perhaps the most compelling kind of reasoning known to modern man: The semi-plausible kind. Armed with a desire to shoot more and the problem of heft, weight and the sheer attention pulling power of a loud, large DSLR, I liberated the credit card from my wallet and bought myself a birthday present; a Fuji X100.

Emily cooking dinner, accidentally out of focus

According to my infallible reasoning, having a small, portable, quiet, inconspicuous camera like this would allow me to both carry it everywhere, exercise a growing interest in street photography and shoot more often in general. Plus, my old-man memory has gotten so poor that given the wait on a pre-order, by the time it arrived I would have forgotten that I’d even ordered it, thus giving myself a wonderful birthday surprise. Perfect!

But seriously, I’ve been playing with and loving Instagram over the past six months. I love its effects and it offers such a smooth, easy way to share shots with the world. I use it all the time and this has been primarily an effect of my phone being the only camera I constantly have on me. While I love the camera in my phone, and I love the way that Instagram has really dragged me into using it more, ultimately, a phone-camera does feel somewhat informal, leaving me wanting something more. This will never change I guess. My phone is my phone, not a camera, and as stated, I’m old and thus stuck in my ways of thinking about this. Get off my lawn.

A random bus girl on the evening ride home

Anyway! Why the X100? Well, honestly, it was initially due to the excellent rap it got from a number of photographers that I follow and respect. There was something about this camera that was calling to people, something that was bringing a real sense of fun and wonder to the portable, semi-point-and-shoot world. I had no idea what it was, but I’m weak and so like a little lamb, I followed the wisdom of the crowd.

Having recently received the camera, I can confirm that there is indeed something special inside. Like everyone else, I love the throw-back styling and the manual control. I love the hybrid view-finder and the almost silent shutter. I love the big sensor (for a compact camera) and the high-ISO love it provides. I love the way it feels like a cross between an old 35mm cameras of times past, and the flexible, instant-gratification digital world of today. Don’t get me wrong, the controls can feel quite opaque and a bit finicky (just like the old film camera my dad would rarely let me touch!), but there is something else at work here. It’s got soul.

Man reading and browsing in Planet Books

Perhaps I’m just getting carried away by what is probably the first of a particular niche segment. Perhaps it’s just the high of a new toy to play with. Whatever it is, despite the little hissy fits of “Shut me down and start me again before I work” or the slow auto-focus and terrible manual focus, I still really want to take this thing with me everywhere.

I’ve sprinkled a few initial shots from it through the post, taken by both myself and Emily. Although I’m still getting used to having a camera with me all the time, I’m slowly becoming somewhat addicted to it. Even on the bus rides to work in the morning I’m spending more and more time looking at the world around me rather than burying my head in email or the like on my phone. If nothing else, learning to once again lift my head and look around is worth more than the sticker price for this thing. Living like a neophyte from the 90′s is like learning to see again, and you really can’t put a price on that.

Emily plays with the X100 while I write this post on my laptop

Today was my last day. I’m back on Queenstown and soon to be on a flight back home. I’m both relieved and sad at the same time. It’s been an amazing week and a lot more work than I originally anticipated. I have absolutely loved my time away to shoot, and shall be making it at least an annual event, if not more frequent. There is nothing like the freedom to explore whatever you want, without having to satisfy (and inevitably disappoint) a companion who doesn’t share the same kind of dereliction for photography. I need a holiday away with the Frenchie, and we’ll get to that, although she’s off wandering Paris at the moment so it’s not all bad news for her!

Despite this, I’ve missed having another photographer in toe to discuss and motivate and provide general companionship. If there is one thing my brief crossed paths with another landscaper in Wanaka proved, it’s that the presence of other like-minds can help open up new perspectives and paths to inspiration and motivation.

Much like yesterday, today was a lazy enough day. A sleep in followed by a late breakfast and wander around Arrowtown in an last ditch effort to capture some of the amazing colours that Autumn brings to this part of the world. Such a reputation is one of the main reasons I came at this time of year, but I’ve really struggled to take anything worth posting that shows it off.

It’s amazing to walk or drive through. Brown and gold are everywhere. In the trees and on the ground. As you look around, a slight gust of wind unsettles more of the leaves and they seem to fall in a continuous stream, like Autumn coloured snow. I put the camera away for a large part of today and just took a stroll along the river. The whole place is almost cinematic and my inability to capture it in a way that I can be proud of is both frustrating and a source of motivation to return and figure the puzzle out. Perhaps I need to bring a posse.

To sign the whole event off, I drive up to the Coronet Peak skifield to get a birds-eye view over the whole Wakatipu basin. I’m early, so I sit there for two hours, taking the odd photo but mostly just enjoying the view and contemplating life.

A storm is starting to roll in hard and the sunset is quite unspectacular. Perched up on my peak, there is a little rain, but not much. Difficult weather to make something interesting out of. I try to create something with a little more vintage feel (below), but again, it’s nothing to write home about. I come down with nothing I’m really happy with, but that’s not the point. It was nice for a time to just sit and watch the change in colour and light, rather than try and shoot it. I’m glad it wasn’t picture perfect. Life isn’t that easy and figuring out how to create more interesting work requires a lot of effort. It’s hard. It should be hard.

Average "Vintage" Shot of The Remarkables

It’s been a long week, and I’ve got a bit of work ahead of me to edit some of these shots up once I get back to a decent computer, but I’m excited to see what I’ve got. This little MacBook is almost so average for editing on that it’s like shooting film. Have to wait until I can get it “processed!”.

I’ve learnt a lot over this past week, but mostly, I’ve learnt that I want to do better, and to do that, I need to spend more time shooting; time just like this.

On my previous, brief visits, I did enjoy Wanaka. This trip however has been something else. I have absolutely loved my time here and feel like I’ve only scratched the surface. I never climbed Mount Roy, I never took the scenic flight over Mount Aspiring, I never did half the things I thought I was going to do, and now I want more time.

Sadly, I don’t have it, and after a late night out shooting and a lazy breakfast, I decide to relax in a way I’m more accustomed to: Wine.

Rippon Vineyard is a premier Central Otago name. Pinot Noir is the staple and I’m keen to try. Situated in a prime location overlooking the lake, with a beautiful new building perched atop a small hill, what could be better? The wine is fantastic and oh my lord, the young French girl handling the tastings is like a dream. Friendly and not at all assuming, while still knowledgable and down right french-girl-next-door gorgeous. Those damn French girls! But enough of that.

On my last trip, Thomo and I spent a good chunk of time wandering around Marlborough at the beginning of our journey. Not only did it help fuel the rest of our adventures (we never left a tasting empty handed), but it was a good way to ease into the whole trip. Vineyards are pretty places, and finding a way to generate some appealing shots is not difficult. Just don’t spend too much time buzzing around or you’ll get mighty poor, mighty tipsy and a mighty crush! On this occasion, I had a visit from the local farm dog and a vineyard overlooking the lake to shoot. Relaxing done right.

Moving on from Wanaka I drive back to Queenstown via Cromwell, the heart of Central Otago wine country. I’d love to stop for more tasting, but I doubt anything could live up to the picturesque setting of Rippon, so I move on. Coming into Queenstown this direction, you travel through the Kawarau Gorge, another stunning setting for a lazy sunny drive. Towards the end, you pass over what is known as Roaring Meg. A hydro-electric generation plant fed by a dam the empties itself into the Kawarau river. I stop here for some longer exposure shots of the outlet with the full intention of staying no more than 5 minutes.

A hour later I’m scrambling over rocks looking for a better shooting angle after finding a disheveled, disused path down to the river. This place is like a sandfly soup and although I’m loving some of the shots, I picked a hell of a time to leave various bits of clothing in the car. Although it’s quite cool outside, I’m missing my bennie, which means my big bald head is getting eaten alive. I emerge from the river after about an hour and a half and absolutely covered in bites. I can feel at least 9 on my head and another two on each hand between various knuckles. To top it off, I’ve got three in a line from my face to my cheek; handsome. And that’s just the ones that have come up right away!

Roaring Meg outlet into the Kawarau River

When planning a trip, the thought of getting outside into the landscape and back to nature seems so pure and perfect. It’s like we have some inbuilt bottled water commercial in our heads that triggers every time we think about the great outdoors. New Zealand comes just about as close as you can to living up to this reality, except for the damn sandflies. You’re haven’t really been out shooting until you’ve been beat up, fallen over, scrambled up or bitten by something. There must be something wrong with me, because I absolutely love it.

I had a chance encounter today with a local landscape photographer. I was driving up towards the Treble Cone skifield to stop and take some shots of the waterfalls you can see from the road. When I entered the lower carpark (just a bit open area) I was flagged down by Thierry Huet, who was after a lift up the access road so he could paraglide down. I didn’t even know you could use the road out of season, so I picked him up and we spent the next half an hour talking about the local area, photography and paragliding.

Thierry is a French born ex-pat who has lived in Wanaka for the last 20 years. Just a bit of time spent talking to someone else about photography was enjoyable and he alerted me to a local Art exhibition that was opening in the evening. After that he jumped off the mountain and I wandered around a bit, getting some fantastic views from a height that I thought I’d have to kill myself hiking to.

Later that night I wandered off to the exhibition and really enjoyed it. It was an excellent opportunity to look at a bunch of work from local artists and a good opportunity to talk to the people to hear their thought process and motivations behind the creation. When I look at a piece, I often think to myself “how did they think to do that?”. Of the three shots Thierry had up, my favourite turned out to have been taken completely by accident. Had I never picked Thierry up earlier in the day I never would have known about the exhibition and probably never have known who to ask some questions about how he took the photo at all.

Chance encounters can open up a whole different perspective and new opportunities. Time spent looking at other people’s work, and talking to them about it, especially when it’s printed and hanging in front of you, has that same effect.

Travelling on the road alone can be both liberating and lonely. I do enjoy it and I’ll do it again, but little beats having another person out shooting with you.

Light is a funny thing. Indoors, you can control it almost any way you want. Lights, modifiers and remotes bring the light to lens, and lens cuts it off at the appropriate level. Everything is so controlled and helpful. Outdoors, everything is stuffed. As a landscape guy, I’m just a spectator. You learn a few tricks to help chip around the edges, but when the light is dull and boring, the light is dull and boring.

Today was a day of extremes. From sunrise through until later afternoon, the weather was mostly terrible. Dull, boring, flat. Surrounded by beautiful vistas on various hikes around the Wanaka/Hawea/Haast area, the light just sucked the life out of everything. After a considerably more difficult hike than anticipated up to Haast Pass (with 10kg of camera gear), I decided to give up for the day and drive home. That’s when it started.

Storms were coming over the mountains and when it looked like the day was about to get worse, it got awesome. The sun would break through in small patches and wash bits of the mountains with soft, amazing light. The sun would strain against the clouds, trying to fight through, and for brief instants it would with stunning effect. Just as sunset was nearing, the storms broke up a bit and mixed in a bit of bright blue sky to make things just perfect.

This week is about momentum. I was in the right place at the right time today. That place was outside rather than tucked up in some nice winery or restaurant. As much as I enjoy that part of the travel here, while the sun is up it pays to be outside. All the good shots are coming in bursts, a flurry of activity. I was like a kid on red cordial, bouncing from location to location until the last rays had gone. The adrenaline rush I got from this was addictive, and indicative of the week. You can take your clear blue days and shove-em where the sun don’t shine. I’ll be somewhere in between, shooting the drama.

I’ve been in a bit of a funk, unable to find my rhythm. As an amateur photographer, I spend a lot of time away from the lens. Increasingly these spells are becoming longer and longer. Just picking the camera up more might seem like a good solution, but the real answer is always quality time. For the past day and a half I’ve done nothing but shoot and it’s not been pretty. I’ve briefly lost my tripod, remote trigger, the weather and my sanity. This morning it all started to turn around.

I’m sitting in Eichardt’s for breakfast. The fire is going and giving off that beautiful wood-fire smell. It’s cold outside and briefly snowing a littl more. Sitting in the warmth, enjoying my breakfast and a coffee while waiting for the low cloud to clear, I’m excited. You just can’t find a way to manufacture this kind of feeling. It’s clean and pure like the air outside, and for me it’s perfect. I’m off to shoot the mountains.

I spent the day hiking around a secluded shore of Lake Wakatipu, doing my best to drag a bunch of camera gear through some snow up a mountain on the Crown Range road and then settled in for a late lunch a glass of wine in Wanaka.

Quality time beats quantity of time, every time.

To top off all the excitement, the dreaded cloud is still hanging around as Mother Nature has decided that everything should go wrong at once. I drive to my location just down near Lake Hayes and wait. You never know with sunrises and to be honest, I like it when the weather isn’t perfect. Clouds help shape the light and make things interesting. Blue skies are amazing but nothing says drama like a bit of weather. On this occasion however, nothing is going on and I don’t even need to get out of the car.

Disappointed I drive back into town and go to get breakfast. To sustain the mood of the trip thus far, it is terrible. Burnt coffee, poached eggs that don’t run, rock hard bread. I am cursed.

To turn things around I decide to take a drive down to Glenorchy, about 50km North-East along Lake Wakatipu from Queenstown. It’s a stunning drive, much like the Great Ocean Road only better. It’s cold and windy, and there are little patches of bad weather all up and down the lake. I manage to sneak in some stops between the weather and shoot into it. Clouds being drama and all that. On review, some of the shots show promise.

Cut from a panorama taken while playing around with some daytime long exposure and a 5-stop ND filter.

Having endured an average day, I decide on an early night and a little bit of editing back in the hotel room. Some of the shots are working and I am particularly taken with a long-exposure experiment using the 5-stop ND. Like the P&O Fairstar, this big unit is slowly turning itself around. Still feels like I’m forcing it a bit, but at least I have all my equipment… except my remote shutter release which I now realise I’ve left on the foreshore. Well, I did say things were turning around slowly.

Checking the weather before bed, it looks pretty average for the morning. Rain seems likely so it’s the perfect time for some relaxation and a wait-and-see approach before deciding on another early start. Momentum is not something you can easily generate. Time to step back, take a morning to recharge and start again.

After a long haul with the last flight spent trying not to rip the head off the little shit of a kid who kept kicking my seat and screaming, my head isn’t exactly switched on. Not wanting to travel too far, I wander down to the foreshore to shoot the sunset. The clouds part briefly and a patch of light hits part of the mountains. I take the first shot, review and it looks exciting. Nothing that’ll change your world, but not bad for someone so rusty. That, unfortunately, is the highlight. The blanketing cloud is back and everything is dull again.

Oh well, the forecast looked average and lived up to itself. You can’t win them all. For those who don’t know, Japanese is the choice for lone travellers, at least that’s what I summise when 3 other tables in the restaurant are filled with single figures. To prove I’m really struggling, I leave my tripod in the restaurant and manage not to realise until the morning, at which point I frantically backtrack. Smooth move, baldy. You’re on fire early.