After the summer that produced week after week of rain and clouds here in the Anchorage area, the sunshine that has shone upon us this fall has been very welcome indeed. It has rejuvenated everyone’s spirits and filled everyone with the energy that’s usually needed to help us transition towards winter.
I’ve certainly taken advantage of the still long blue sky days recently, with a few days of playing hooky in the Chugach Mountains, as well as a series of photo shoots with some new models.
A couple of weeks ago, though, I skipped out for an afternoon of landscape photography- something that I don’t do nearly enough these days. I tend to focus so much on shooting the adventure and lifestyle stuff, which usually sells as stock more than landscapes, that I sometimes neglect just getting out in the late afternoon with my camera and getting back to my roots of shooting the natural world. After all, like many outdoor photographers, I fell in love with the craft by shooting landscapes just out of pure passion.
Landscape photography also gives me a chance to practice my photography in solitude, something else that I don’t do enough of, since I’m usually shooting assignments and stock with models. It’s always a welcome change to immerse myself in my photography completely by myself and reconnect with the outdoors. It almost seems ironic, though, since I spend so many hours alone in my office, writing, marketing and editing photos.
Setting out with trail running shoes and my photo backpack, I hiked and ran up the Williwaw Lakes trail looking to document the changing colors of the autumn landscape. As it usually happens, the moment I started shooting and really looking around at my environment, I rekindled my own sense of wonder and excitement about photographing pure, unpeopled landscapes and had a great time watching the sun set far over the Cook Inlet.
Afterwards, I packed up my gear and ran back to the trailhead, passing a few photographers along the way who were all out shooting moose. I didn’t see a single one during my outing on the other side of the ridge, and I didn’t even care.