Kenya, in January, was my first safari. My first encounter with wildlife photography. Talk about jumping in at the deep end.

Arrival was accompanied, if I’m honest, with a degree of culture shock — because this was a genuinely new part of the world to experience. Sure, trips to Morocco, Egypt and the Nile suggest a reasonable exposure to Africa, but there’s always something intriguing and tantalising about a truly new destination that excites me and makes me unashamedly quiet to start with. 

Africa is a big place — and it was immediately obvious that this was different to anywhere we had been in Africa. Added to this was a very real photographic anxiety and imposter syndrome — a genuine “all the gear and no idea” moment. What if I mucked it all up and came home with blurry photographs of half a lion, missed the racing cheetah completely or couldn’t focus on an elephant?

Was I about to undertake a very expensive mistake…

We had a very early start to catch the flight from Wilson Airport — fully awake and, I’ll admit, quietly nervous with anticipation. We climbed into the twelve-seater aircraft and flew to Amboseli, completely unaware of what was about to unfold.

The early morning view from the aircraft as we approached Amboseli

Best arrival ever - kindness and awe,,,
The landing was comfortable, and we were met by our guide, Albert — who had, with disarming thoughtfulness, set out an amazing linen draped welcome table: coffee, tea, water, home-made cookies, and our own personalised water bottles with name labels. In the bush. On a landing strip. I was charmed immediately by his kind greeting..

Without further ado, within our first few sentences, Albert came out straight and asked me what my photographic aims were for the four days, and assured me he would do his very best to assist. Talk about being made to feel at home...!

Albert and the best greeting ever!

As Albert was speaking, I was quietly taking in my surroundings — a zebra first, then almost immediately an elephant perhaps a hundred metres away, and behind it, stunningly, the unmistakable snow-capped silhouette of Mount Kilimanjaro - poking above the last vapes of the early morning mist that we had seen so glorious to behold from within our aircraft on our landing approach. I stopped mid-sentence.

... and this was just leaving the airfield...!

Albert’s tracking skills were — and I don’t use this lightly — incredible. Yet without any of them, we found ourselves driving along the road away from the landing strip with  a line of elephants next to the road, Kilimanjaro as backdrop, and the experiences came thick and fast thereafter. Awe and wonder overwhelming everything.

Imposter Syndrome

The imposter syndrome was truly hitting me now - and I found myself wondering if I could manage this new sort of photography.

And then the déjà-vu hit me as I mentioned in the last post.

I was suddenly transported back to a photography tour I’d taken with Colin Prior in Scotland almost ten years previously. Colin had championed the importance of determining the one “priority setting” for each image — is it shutter speed, aperture, or ISO? Which one matters most right now, for this subject, in this light? Dial it in and work around it.

I also heard certain people from my military past say (occasionally shout!) "KISS" - Keep It Simple Stupid.So that's what I did - I kept it simple.

After coming back from Kenya I read this quote and all of a sudden it made perfect sense......

"Jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down"

Ray Bradbury

Black-shouldered Kite - my first encounter with bird photography - I was building my wings....!

Suddenly, it all clicked — pun entirely deliberate — into place. It's a strange but wonderful feeling to know that you're falling off the cliff, but the wings on your back are getting bigger each time the shutter clicks.

My inner imposter, like Elvis, left the building. I knew what I was doing and I felt truly at home. At least roughly. And by the end of the safari, considerably more than roughly.

We’re not going to talk camera settings, let’s talk about the wildlife. Because that, truly, is the stunning part… If you want settings - drop me a DM.

Cheetahs — A Coalition in the long grass

Amboseli, it turns out, is elephant-rich safari land — you feel this the moment you land, quite honestly. But it wasn't the elephants that stole the early running for me. It was the cheetahs.

Over the four days we were lucky enough to see eleven cheetahs in total. Eleven! The collective noun for a group of cheetah is a coalition.

Mother Cheetah basking in late afternoon sunlight as her cubs feed from her latest kill

Our first coalition was a mother and her cubs, tucked into a patch of vegetation, working through a meal Mum had won and then dragged out of sight — deliberately, purposefully, out of view of the competition. In Amboseli that competition is mostly hyena rather than lion, since lion numbers here are comparatively low. But multiple hyena is reason enough to "eat fast and eat hidden". Mum used dust to cover bodily fluids from the kill - reducing the potential for smells to give away the coalition's position.

Subadult coalition - in between their play and folling about

Another coalition of five appeared out of nowhere a couple of days later - this time the four younger cubs were more "sub-adult" rather than cubs. They were obviously interested in the hunt - we saw a failed attempt - but they were still young enoiugh to be playful amongst themselves - a true joy to see.

An elephant called TJ — walking in a giant's shadow

Day two took us into one of Amboseli's restricted conservancies, in search of TJ — an enormous bull elephant with tusks already beginning to sweep the ground in that unmistakable "super tusker" way.

TJ - tide marks visible from a recent swim!

TJ's best mate was a bull called Craig — famed across Amboseli for his colossal, ground-brushing tusks and his extraordinary calm around people — but sadly he had died only three weeks before we arrived, on 3 January, at the grand old age of fifty-four. Natural causes, in the end, from what I can glean from reports at the time — his teeth had simply worn beyond use, as happens to the oldest elephants once they're through their final set of molars. A sad time - he was a genuinely great animal.

Craig's tusks, by the way, weighed around 45 kilograms each and stretched to roughly 2.1 metres — ground-sweeping in the most literal sense imaginable. Craig wasn't just locally loved either — he'd been a conservation icon across Kenya, and had fronted a beer brand since 2021. His story even made the BBC News.

With his death, only nine known super tuskers now remain in the whole of Amboseli — a sobering number when you say it out loud.

His loss left a real gap — and not just among the guides and researchers who'd tracked him for decades. There's good evidence elephants grieve. Watching TJ that day, and hearing how the humans around him spoke of Craig, it was hard not to feel that the mourning was not restricted to humans

Quick note on spelling before I go further, because I want to get this right: I'm using Maasai for the people, and Masai for the place — Masai Mara, specifically, where "Mara" translates to "spotted," describing how the savannah looks from a distance, dotted with short, bushy acacia trees. The people spell their own name Maasai; Masai is the older, colonial-era version that stuck to the maps. Small distinction, but it matters, so there it is.

The Hunt for TJ

Right — finding TJ. This was an adventure in its own right, and nothing at all like a trip to the zoo, where you simply walk to the enclosure and there's your animal, obligingly on display. TJ had to be found.

Albert had enrolled the help of another Maasai guide, who in turn had brought in at least two others — I suspect there were more names on that network than I ever learned. These guides had gone out on motorbikes before six in the morning, ie before we'd even had our early wake up coffee, scouting on our behalf. By the time we arrived two or three hours later, they had a rough idea of where TJ might be.

"Rough idea" turned out to be an accurate description. This was not an easy ride. We went properly through the bush — not along it, not around it, but through it — and the Land Cruiser earned every inch of its reputation as one of the toughest overland vehicles on the planet. I've a newfound respect for that machine.

And then — there he was. TJ, alongside a younger elephant, calmly chewing his way through a few unfortunate trees. What a spectacle. This, unmistakably, was a super tusker — and no photograph I'd seen beforehand had quite prepared me for the scale of him in person.

Then Albert, with the kind of skill that only comes from years of doing what he does, manoeuvred us into position — TJ in the foreground, Kilimanjaro rising behind him. I had said at our meeting athe airstrip that an elephant / Kilimanjaro combo picture was my dream for the whole safari. He listened and manoevred without any prompting. Testament to his attention to detail. My admiration for his skills soared - he himself was invested too - he was keen to encourage me to "get the picture" (his words at the very moment) - his enthusiasm was infectious.

This was it - THE image I hoped to get, expecting no chance of success and it happened on Day 2...!

Day two. Full first day in the area. And there it was.

Amboseli's Secrets — and a Moment of Flow
Amboseli kept revealing its secrets to us — and by the end of our four day stay - it was hard to imagine we could possibly leave. At the same time we'd only managed to spot four lions in total, all at distance, and while everything else we'd seen had been genuinely incredible, the thought of lions and leopards up close was still beckoning, somewhere out there in the days ahead.

Hippo and cubs after a dip in the lake

The photography itself, though, was becoming increasingly fun — increasingly instinctive, too.
One of the most exhilarating images I took was entirely unexpected and the subject was completely unpredicted and not really on my pre-planned image list.

It was on our first full day. We'd spent most of the day searching — for TJ, for cheetah, with plenty in between — when we came across a troop of monkeys. A mum and suckling baby caught my eye first, it was a sweet image yet unremarkable. Then, to their left, another mum and baby — this pair separated as we watched, the baby scrambling onto a thorny bush just alongside Mum. Uncomfortable with the thorns,  it was obvious the little one was about to jump back across.

So I stayed. Got my focus locked. Quietly — almost under my breath — willed the baby to jump.

My flying Vervet baby monkey...!

And when it did, and I caught the shot, I remember that precise feeling of being entirely in the zone, in flow, nothing else existing. Just the baby, the leap, and the shutter. It made me feel great that I had anticipated behaviour - something that I had read about pre-travel and yet never quite appreciating the way that anticipation could make the shot...... 

A Discovery — Sharing the Shot

This is where I stumbled onto something that ended up improving the whole safari experience, dramatically. The jumping monkey shot wasn't going to be National Geographic material, but I was proud of it — and seconds after taking it, I showed the image to Albert through the camera's viewfinder itself, rather than the LCD screen, which is next to useless in bright safari light.

The viewfinder let me crop the image well, so Albert could actually see the baby mid-leap, sharp and framed exactly as I'd caught it.

He laughed. He genuinely smiled.

And that's when it clicked — showing Albert the good captures might help him feel part of them. So I started doing it regularly, for the good shots, right there in the viewfinder, particularly those shots that weren’t anticipated.

It changed something. Albert had already been guiding brilliantly — but by showing him the results of his efforts, the product of his skill (and I mean skill: I'd sometimes guide him to the nearest six inches on where to stop the wagon, and he'd nail it every time), it seemed to spur him on further still.

The two of us became a team, rather than driver and passenger. He was invested in the shot taking, not just the guiding and sighting.

I still smile at this one - I knew I was starting to get the hang of it when I saw this in the viewfinder...

I kept the habit up when we moved on to the Masai Mara with our guide there, Isaac — who responded equally well to the visual reward. Something in it seemed universal: show a guide the fruits of his own expertise, and watch him lean in even harder.

One Last Thing About Albert — The Serval

Before I close out this post and move on to the Mara, one more Albert story — because it deserves its own moment, and amazingly, it happened before we'd even been in the Land Cruiser for an hour.

We'd just landed at the airstrip, and within minutes we'd already seen zebra, elephants, wildebeest — my eyes were calibrated to that scale, that range, that whole "expectation of vision" you naturally settle into on your first safari drive. Big animals, open plains, obvious sightings.

Then Albert quickly and quietly stopped the Land Cruiser. He pointed to a spot on the ground, three metres or so off, on the passenger side.

"Huh....???" I whispered.
"There," he whispered back - pointing carefully.
And then I saw it.
A serval — a small cat, tiny compared to everything we'd just been looking at, tucked into the vegetation almost invisibly.

Just incredible - how did he see this...?

Servals are rare enough that plenty of people safari for years and never glimpse one. Certainly not see one at such a close distance.

Now that's a guide. If there was ever a way to introduce yourself and your skill in one moment, that was it. The level of attention to tracking detail — spotting something that small, that camouflaged, that close, that disguised, whilst scanning the savannah from the wagon to the horizon travelling at 20km/h — was genuinely stunning. These guys know their stuff, and Albert had proven it before we'd even reached our first proper stop.

Top Tip: Share the Shot

Show your guide the good ones. Not on the LCD screen — useless in bright light — but through the viewfinder itself, zoomed right in. It takes ten seconds, and it changes everything. Your guide's skill got you into position; let them see what that skill produced. I did this with Albert from day two onwards, and later with Isaac in the Mara, and in both locations it turned a driver-and-passenger dynamic into a genuine team. Try it — the reaction alone is worth it.

Closing the Post

Amboseli had one more day yet to give, but for now, that's where I'll leave this chapter. Next time — the Masai Mara, and a whole new chapter of this Kenyan adventure.

Saying goodbye from Amboseli

Happy travelling and happy shooting! If any of this post has conjured up any questions in your mind from the point of view of geography, wildlife or technique, please get in touch.

Warm regards,

Colin

Colin Prior (Far Right) and two friends watching a majestic sunset on the Isle of Muck, Inner Hebrides, Scotland

You ask … what happened to cause the break?
The easy answer is: Berlin, Christmas and a Kenyan safari — with the new adventure into wildlife photography taking me by storm, partly in my getting to grips with new kit but mainly by being fascinated with a new discipline that was so unfamiliar yet strangely déjà-vu familiar.

Brandenburg Gate, Berlin

As a result, I simply found that new life experiences, in a wonderfully chaotic way, filled the space that writing had previously occupied. The blog became the thing that "I'll definitely get round to tomorrow", and tomorrow quietly became spring and then more…
But the camera never went away. For the first time I shot more than a terabyte of images on a single holiday, so you can perhaps appreciate that, if anything, the past seven months have seen my lenses pointed at more extraordinary places and in more extraordinary circumstances than at any point since I started this adventure. The editing folder on my hard drive is, frankly, alarmingly but excitingly large.
And I have a lot to tell you. Not least to explain the "yet strangely déjà-vu familiar" thing... (That’s for the next post.)

Let me start with the thing that has genuinely changed how I think about photography.

Going on Safari
In the early part of this year, I did something I had honestly never seriously considered before: I went on safari in Kenya.

Now, I am — as you know — a landscape and cityscape photographer. I have always been more interested in what a landscape or a city looks like at 5am, than thinking about pointing a camera at wildlife. Until now. At least that was my excuse till now.

Animals move. Landscapes and cities don't (except clouds and the sun). I like to plan my shots, wait for the light, and have some degree of control over proceedings. All previous attempts at photographing animals was limited to dogs, and whilst I was keen at one time to start a pet photography business, I conveniently managed to lose this ambition when landscape photography started to fall into place for me and I assumed that landscapes - and cityscapes to a degree - were my thing….
But here is what I was completely wrong about: I assumed wildlife photography would feel like someone else's discipline. A separate language I hadn't studied. Instead, the moment an elephant appeared in my viewfinder just a few minutes after landing in Amboseli —  and I mean, really appeared, not in the way you see them in a wildlife documentary but there  in the actual world, with Mount Kilimanjaro in the background, no less — every instinct I'd developed as a landscape photographer kicked in at once. Light direction. Composition. Patience. Waiting for the decisive moment - well sort of - continuous pressing of the shutter button soon became recognised as essential to catch “that” moment.

The elephants walked. With no attention to me or our vehicle and so it happened.

I was hooked. elephants, lions, leopards, cheetahs, buffalo, zebras, birds, more birds and did I say birds...! 

A "coalition" of cheetahs - Amboseli, Kenya

Wildlife photography, it turns out, is not another language. It is just the same language spoken at a completely different and rather thrilling pace. Whilst there’s a difference shooting landscapes, I reused skills learned years previously - but that’s for a different post - let’s get restarted first!

Firstly, there’s something else to add here…

Photography and the Quiet Business of Feeling Better

This is something I've been wanting to explore in this blog for a while, and the safari experience brought it into sharp focus (if you'll forgive the pun).

As a doctor, I was well versed in the evidence around mental health: the complexity of it, the importance of it, and the sometimes frustrating limitations of what medicine alone can do for it. What I've discovered through my own photographic journey, and what the safari started to crystallise for me, is that different genres of photography seem to offer genuinely different psychological gifts.

This feels worth discussing properly, so consider this an introduction to a theme that will run through many of the posts ahead.

Suilven, (731m or 2,398 feet) Scottish highlands - don't let the low height fool you!

Landscape photography, I've come to believe, is essentially structured mindfulness. To take a great landscape photograph you must be still, patient, and acutely present. You cannot be ruminating about tomorrow's problems whilst waiting for the light to change over a Hebridean sea loch. The landscape demands your full attention, and in return it gives you something remarkably close to peace. Research increasingly supports what photographers have always intuitively known — time in natural environments measurably reduces cortisol, lowers anxiety, and improves mood. The camera gives you a reason to be there, and the composition process focuses the mind in a way that is almost meditative.

Brrooklyn Bridge, New York, from the Manhattan Bridge in the last warm week of summer

Cityscape photography offers something different — and something I think is under-appreciated. Cities are extraordinary in the way they compress humanity into frame: the architecture of centuries, the light on glass and stone, the lone figure crossing a bridge in the blue hour. Cityscape photography is an exercise in finding order within apparent chaos, and there is a particular satisfaction — I would almost call it a cognitive reward — in imposing your own composition on a scene that seems to resist it. There is also the not inconsiderable joy of wandering; of getting genuinely lost in the bazaars of Istanbul and Marrakech or Budapest at dawn with a camera bag on your shoulder and racing to get set up before the sunrises too far. That kind of purposeful activity is, I think, quietly wonderful for the soul.

Tiger cub, Masai Mara

Wildlife photography, as I've just discovered, is something else entirely. It is presence under pressure. (And as Billie Jean King once said, "pressure is a priviledge!") You cannot plan it the way you plan a sunrise shoot. A cheetah does not wait for the best light. Instead, what this demands of the photographer is a state of alert, focused calm — what sports psychologists might call 'the zone' — where thinking drops away and reaction takes over. I came home from Kenya feeling, oddly, as though I had been reset. As if several months of low-grade mental noise had been switched off for ten days and I'd forgotten to turn it back on again. In retrospect, this was a combination of two previously hard to explain concepts - the first is awe and the second is flow. More about these two to come….

These three experiences — the still patience of landscape, the curious wandering of cityscape, the electric alertness of wildlife — seem to me to address mental wellbeing from three very different angles. With this in mind, I intend to explore each of them properly as we travel through the months ahead.

What’s Coming — An Itinerary Worth Getting Excited About
Here is the rough shape of where this blog is heading over the coming months. Subject to the usual disclaimer that life has a tendency to rearrange the furniture when you’re not looking:

Eiffel Tower from underneath the El-Hakim Bridge, Paris - early summer sunset

Paris — Paris in early summer. Genuinely gorgeous — and, as it turns out, a masterclass in retrospect, in how to present a photography portfolio. 
Kenya — Safari, Amboseli, the Maasai Mara, and the completely unexpected discovery that I am, apparently, a wildlife photographer now. At least some of the time. The “déjà-vu familiar” thing I promised to explain — the Kenyan post is where I explain it…
Iceland — Iceberg lagoons, waterfalls and herring factories, emigration towns (yes — emigration, not immigration) and a hope that I will eventually manage to photograph the Aurora Borealis, given that I’ve now been far north a couple of times. Next time, maybe…
The Arctic Circle & Ice Hotel— Temperatures of minus twenty-something, dog sled rides (as the driver!), dog meditation (yes - I choose my words well), snowmobile driving and the lifesaver manoeuvre (?!?)— not to mention reindeer, pizza and the sweet taste of hot lingonberry juice as a very well-earned reward.
The Hebrides — One of the most underrated and genuinely spectacular places on earth, and conveniently on my doorstep as a Scotsman. The Isles of Muck, Eigg, Rhum, Canna and Colonsay — and that strange feeling that you’re somehow in the Bahamas, yet only a few miles from Glasgow.
Santorini — Sunsets, friendships formed, and the importance of getting to a vantage point early. I may need to be forgiven for a rant about social media here. You have been warned.

Oia, Santorini sunset

Istanbul — A city I first visited fifty years ago — and one that has never stopped pulling me back. Mosques, bazaars, the Bosphorus at golden hour, and some very good coffee and baklava.
Rome — The Eternal City through a photographer’s eye — which means before the crowds arrive, and sometimes despite them. Early mornings, strong espresso, and a moment of revelation at the Trevi Fountain when I realised the crowds aren’t the problem. They’re part of the artwork.
Budapest — A city consistently and bafflingly underestimated — with a history of extraordinary heroism, a language that was quite literally invented to forge a national identity, and a winter light that stops you in your tracks.

Budapest Parliament building, mid-winter

Berlin & Köln — Two cities, one blog trip — Berlin’s extraordinary visual contrasts and layered history, paired with Köln at Christmas. Cathedral, markets, and the kind of winter light that makes a photographer want to never go home.
Arizona & Monument Valley — The American Southwest, which left me genuinely speechless — and provoked something I’ve been thinking about ever since: the neurophysiology of awe. Why does wilderness do what it does to the human brain? I have some thoughts… Speechless by the way not just for the scenery but for a friendship of the best and kindest sort.

Cathedral Rock, Sedona, Arizona

I’ve been thinking, during the quiet months, about what this blog should be. The original premise still stands: not just photography technique, but predominantly the whole travel experience of being somewhere with a camera. The light, yes. The composition, absolutely. But also the food and coffee worth knowing about, and the practical business of actually getting around — hire car, subway, on foot, whatever the city demands. Add to this the odd moment of photographic failure that turned out to be quietly instructive, and the travel logistics that no one tells you about until it’s too late.

Mental health, wellbeing, awe and flow....

What I also want to add, going forward, is a thread that surprised me a little when it started to crystallise in my thoughts — so I share this with you with a degree of awareness that it may seem a bit… unusual. In particular, my medical work in years gone by has given me the experience to look at practical ways of thinking about wellbeing, and I’ve become increasingly convinced that photography and mental health have more to say to each other than perhaps seems immediately obvious. Not in a heavy-handed way — this is not that kind of blog — but it’s woven into the stories, because I think it matters. And because I suspect many people pick up a camera for reasons that pay no attention to f-stops and focal lengths……

Iceberg, Fjallsárlón lagoon, Iceland

Posts will land every fortnight or so — depending, inevitably, on how many times I’ve been distracted by the editing folder. I’ll do my best to be consistent. The camera has taught me patience; I’m working on applying it to publishing schedules but I think my photography skills are better than my publishing abilities. I also intend to resurrect my Instagram account.After all, I've got enouigh photos to keep it active for years without picking up my camera...!

The Strawberries Are Back on the Menu
If you’re new here and wondering what the blog title means — Eating Strawberries ….The famous Zen story "The Tiger and the Strawberry" is a powerful parable about mindfulness which illustrates how to stay present, find joy, and embrace the exact moment you are in, even when life feels chaotic or threatening. Without going into details, my family life has a couple of tigers wandering close by, so this seemed the right name for my blog at the moment.

Tobermory Harbour, Mull, Scotland with an angry summer sky

Seven months of silence notwithstanding, I haven’t stopped eating strawberries. Far from it, they’re a daily staple — but until now I’ve just been too busy chewing to write about them, and even as I type, I’m conscious of my trespassing on jealously guarded space to write this blog.
Thank you — genuinely — for still being here or being a first time reader. Whether you’ve been checking back occasionally or have simply found this post through a search engine’s mysterious and unknowable algorithms, I’m glad you’re reading.
I have witnessed some wonderful places, and I’m proud to share my photographs with you.

The last remnants of sunset over Amboseli, Kenya

Happy travelling, and happy shooting!

Colin

So often in life, we tend to try to describe items by comparing to things that we have previously experienced. In the case of the Grand Canyon, I find this almost impossible to do.

First View

We arrived on a sunny but cold, late afternoon. It had been a long drive and everything was new and the drive had been testing – not least for the fact that I was still getting used to driving on the other side of the road to normal – and it seemed to have taken an age to drive through the park to get to the South Rim and the accommodation area. We had approached from the south and so no sneaky glimpses to combat the mindset. Getting a bit frayed around the edges, there were (unwelcome) thoughts of “will it be worth the journey?”

We shouldn’t have had doubts. From my point of view, I have never seen vista like it before, and its uniqueness is such that I suspect I’m unlikely to do so at any point in time in the future.

Visiting here for the first time was a truly awe-inspiring experience and, for me, defies simple description. Standing at the edge of its vastness for the first time, all eyes are greeted by layers of rock that show thousands of millions of years of geological history, carved ever so    s l o w l y   by the Colorado River.

Be prepared to be amazed at the vastness  and get used to viewing something with downwards gaze - it's usually upwards!

Some facts to amaze at….

The sheer scale of what comes up in front of you for the first time, standing on the edge of what is a VERY big drop, is truly staggering. The canyon stretches 277 miles in length, up to 18 miles in width, and plunges over a mile deep. Put an Eiffel Towers on the bottom of the canyon and then put another half dozen Eiffel Towers top of that first one and you will still be looking down on them!

El Salvador would fit inside the Grand Canyon. Alternatively, for us Brits, click on this link to see how the canyon would look superimposed on a map of Great Britain.

On average, there are 15 to 17 deaths a year. Some of these sad events come from falls – and as soon as you arrive at the canyon, you’ll understand all too quickly how a few people fall to their death by witnessing sheer ignorance of people – often with children - prancing about on the edge…!

Occasionally there's a foreground option for images - all so often it's just a VERY big drop!

Here’s the thing. The lowest point of the canyon is 2,400 feet above sea level (Phantom Ranch). The South Rim goes up to 7,498 feet at Navajo Point and the North Rim is higher at 8,803 feet. Don’t dismiss this if you intend to visit. At this altitude, you will be physiologically compromised by the altitude – no doubt about it. You might notice a slight headache and most definitely you’ll find yourself getting out of breath walking any uphill gradient. If you have Ischaemic Heart Disease, your angina WILL trouble you!

Lots of people hike the canyon. It must be an amazing thing to do, but beware. It starts easy as you go downhill (a long way). Then things get tough as it gets hotter as you descend and then to climb back up you are compromised by both tiredness and hypoxia, climbing a steep path that only gets steeper as you ascend. The Park Rangers are pretty hot on advising about water and heat conditions – pay attention to them – they know their stuff…!

Strange fact - There are no dinosaur bones in the Grand Canyon – it’s too old for them! There are lots of ancient marine fossils dating as far back as 1.2 billion years ago. There’s also a bit of a mystery, as 250 million year old rocks lie back to back with 1.2 billion year old rocks. What happened in between is a mystery.

How on earth can trees grow here ... of all places...?

Visiting the Canyon

Don’t be fooled by the Arizona location and think it’s bound to be hot. The Grand Canyon gets very cold. When we visited in April, there were still scattered pockets of snow around us and whilst sunrise was truly spectacular, it was cold, minus 4 deg C, i.e. puffer jackets, gloves and woolly hats. The North Rim was still closed to visitors when we went in April (it opens in mid-May) due to weather restrictions.

Easter holidays are busy but just wait till the summer. Sometimes it can take an hour or more to get through the queue into the Park, with endless lines of cars. So if you’re going – book accommodation early.

We stayed at Maswik Lodge and we would strongly recommend it. The classic hotel is El Tovar, which opened in 1905 with the railroad coming to the canyon. It has a real charm and atmosphere, that makes it a must to visit for a meal, even if you are not staying there! We were too late to make an accommodation booking at El Tovar but we had a great meal there and we were definitely not disappointed by our room at Maswik.

Layer, upon layer, upon layer....

There are lots of blog posts for the area and I was particularly impressed by this one by Matt and Cheryl (“We’re in the Rockies”). Far more detail than I could possibly provide and it helped us greatly.

Our Highlights

A couple of days was enough for us given that we were not hiking. There are lots of attractions to see, but for us, the highlights were the Kolb Studio and walking back along the South Rim after taking the bus out to Hermits Rest.

The Kolb Studio was made by two brothers in 1905. They carved a niche in the area by setting up a photographic studio, taking images of the early visitors (most of whom likely stayed at El Tovar) who visited and trekked the canyon. Their story is very impressive, with a workrate that is almost impossible to comprehend nowadays.  

I found myself mesmerised by these dead trees, with such amazing shapes.

The Hermit Road is travelled by a regular and very impressive bus service . It is one of the four bus routes available). Research the buses well if you plan to visit, it’s worth the investment of time and is the best way to get about. (Your car will stay in the car park!) We took the service all the way to Hermit’s Rest , where we enjoyed a simple lunch before walking back along the canyon rim to our accomodation.

The walk back was leisurely and the path was easy to follow. Take it easy, at >7,000 ft altitude, you will soon know that you’re working out!

Photography

Sunrise and sunset were brilliant to witness, but both times presented challenges. It gets cold very quickly so come prepared. I didn’t have gloves and regretted it very quickly in the sub-zero morning temperature. My hands were colder than at any time when visiting the Arctic earlier in the year.

Don't be fooled - this warm looking sunrise was sub-zero and the absence of a pair of gloves was regretted. 

Sunrise and sunset present significant challenges for taking photos here, as the shadows are contrasted by strong sunlight. It is a very harsh light once the sun has risen, (? Altitude related – see later?). If you wait till the sun hits lower down into the canyon at sunrise – then the sun will be pretty high in the sky. and the canyon goes into shadow quickly at sunset.

As soon as the sun sets, the shadows appear VERY quickly

Many of my photos are from the early afternoon walk back from Hermit’s Rest. The sun was harsh but it gives the best view into the canyon – which is a pretty unique situation and I feel creates an exception to the “only sunrise and sunset” rule.

Mindfullness and the senses

As you will be aware now, this is an important part of my travel and especially my photography.

Being sensitive to all senses in the Grand Canyon created for me a personal reward with an awareness that I felt to be spectacularly different to almost all other places I have visited, due to the uniqueness of the geographical location, the overwhelming natural history and the physiological impositions of the altitude.

The Desert View Watchtower - at the start of the Western approach to the canyon

1 - Light

The daytime light here is as crisp as anything - verging on harsh, but it’s unique and difficult to appreciate unless you are there! This is due to the fact that light can appear clearer with higher altitude and the removal of layers of the atmosphere with altitude, means there is less scattering of light, making objects appear more distinct than at sea level.

I couldn't resist this image - the diagonal texture of the tree fits in well with the canyon's  horizontal layers.

Add to this, the increasing rarity of the atmosphere with altitude reduces absorption of certain wavelengths (eg UV and IR) that we may not see, but influence our perception of the visible spectrum.

2 - Sound

It’s a windy place, so you will hear plenty of the wind rustling trees, but keep a close listen out for the Colorado River. There’s only a few points where the sound makes it to the top of the Canyon (the bus drivers on the Hermits Rest route will tell you where) and when it does, it’s amazing to hear.

One of the few places from where the Colorado River can be heard many thousands of feet away.

Be prepared for the opposite of sound too. Silence has the potential to be very loud.

Sure, aircraft and helicopter noise is a big issue when you are at the Canyon (you’re 7,000 feet closer to the planes after all!) but the Grand Canyon is also known for its quiet too. The park noise can get as low as 10dB at night. That’s good enough for me.

3 - Feel – the cold!!!

4 - Smell

The smell of the many fir trees transports me back to when we lived in Cyprus and visited the Troodos Mountain.

Petrichor – the smell after rainful is due to certain chemicals called terpenes (don’t get me started -this is a BIG subject for distilling gin!) and creates a truly invigorating experience - creating a smile as soon as you walk outside and smell the freshness.

Juniper trees (particularly Utah juniper – in Arizona!) abound and if you can pick a berry off one of the trees, crush it and you’ll be rewarded with the unadulterated smell of… GIN…!

5 - Taste

The memorable tastes for me were those of pizza and the beer at the Maswik Pizza Pub. After a long drive to the canyon and a long walk along the South Rim, we enjoyed slices of pizza whilst tasting some of the local beers and watching both the baseball and the ice hockey on adjoining TV’s – it was brilliant!

A pano from the western approach road.

SUMMARY

The Grand Canyon is undoubtedly unique. It’s a place to recommend visiting for at least a couple of days, using that time to be free of electronics and enjoy such clarity of air, the tranquility and the endless photographic possibilities. Be prepared to book well ahead and consider avoiding peak times to avoid coming across too many noisy humans crowding near the edge. Do your homework too, know about the bus routes, the need to get fit beforehand (if you plan to hike) and have a look at some of the awesome images that other people have taken to inspire your photographic ambitions. You won’t be disappointed.

This was as close as I was prepared for us to go! Daft - yes - Memorable - undoubtedly...!

Gondolas on the Grand Canal at the Rialto Bridge

The world of Venice’s gondolas is one of deep tradition, that has changed little within our ever changing world, yet it still manages to preserve a timeless charm and elegance that helps to make Venice the fantastic place that it it is.

Sunrise over the lagoon

Up until recently I thought that a gondola ride were simply an expensive tourist trap that was rated and out dated but I am pleased to say that I have seen the light now, after spending the time to read a bit more that has let me understand how they fit into the landscape. As a result, I hope to be able to convey some of the gondola’s history, charm and style that makes it one of those experiences that is truly unique.

Waves lapping at the taxi rank

The Gondola: A Vessel of Tradition

Let’s talk about the gondola itself. At first glance, it may seem like just a strange boat, designed to catch a tourist’s eye, but they have a design that is both artistic and immensely practical. Designed to navigate the shallow, winding canals of Venice, they’ve been around for over a thousand years, and despite the changes in technology and transportation, the design has remained largely unchanged through the centuries.

Showing some of the intricate details that make each gonola unique

They’re all wood - no fibreglass in sight. They take 6 months to build from scratch (2 months for the structure and 4 months for the painting) and are comprised of eight different woods.

• Elm (frame)
• Oak (sides)
• Mahogany (top)
• Pine (bottom)
• Linden (front & back)
• Larch (footrest)
• Cherry & walnut (for decoration)

If you want to see one being built - there are very few options - but if you are interested. Drop me a note and I will give you some info to possibly get a contact for an inside track.

The stern of the gondola is custom made to cater for the weight of the gondolier who will stand at the back of the boat that ALWAYS measures 11.1m in length. This also means that there needs to be a counterweight at the front of the see-saw (sorry - boat) so have you ever wondered why the gondola has a heavy metal prow - yup - you’ve guessed it, it’s all about being a balance for the gondolier’s weight at the back of the boat…!

Showing the forcula and also why the port ide is higher than the starboard - the gondolier's weight

Gondolas are asymmetrical - the port side being 9 inches wider (and slightly higher) than the starboard side.

Each gondolier also has a made to measure “oar lock” or forcula. In truth it’s not a “lock”, it is multi-function device because the oar needs to be placed in different positions depending on what direction or stroke is required. It’s unique, made to measure and therefore expensive to make and so when a gondolier ties up his (or her) boat at night - the forcula is taken home for security, as it’s a once in a lifetime build for the gondolier and takes into account the user’s height / weight / oar stroke power etc.

Tied up at night

The front part of a gondola is called a fero - it’s one of only two pieces of metal in the boat. It’s lines are quintessentially stylish - as we would expect from an Italian design. (OK I know that Italy has only been a country since 1861 and gondolas were about for hundreds of years before that, but gimme some artistic licence please?)

The top bit is shaped to resemble the Doge’s hat (the Doge was the elected leader of Venice) - so imagine a cardinal’s hat. The semicircular hole below represents the Venetian lagoon, whilst the six rectangles facing forward stand for the six sestiere (areas) of Venice ie San Marco, San Polo, Santa Croce, Castello, Cannaregio and Dorsoduro. One rectangle also points backward - representing Giudecca (another island in the lagoon) and the S-shaped swooping curve of the length of the fero represents the Grand Canal, whilst the three ornate items between the forward facing rectangles are representative of the islands Murano, Burano and Torcello.

See the detail become more meaningful with the fero's symbolism

Gondolae used to be painted in family colours, but in the 1500’s, a law was passed to make them all black. A shame, in my view!

A gondola will last about 40 years but will have had the bottom of the boat changed three times - approximately 10 yearly……

The Gondolier: Venice’s River Navigators

There's something uniquely grand about a gondola ride!

The gondola is a symbol of the gondolier who guides it and these gondoliers have been part of Venice’s fabric for centuries, serving as both the transporters and the storytellers of the city. Today, there are around 400 licensed gondoliers in Venice, and each one is required to undergo a training and apprenticeship which some enthusiastically equate to “the knowledge” of London cabbies, but I’m inclined to think that the London guys have a more difficult job with the navigation.

Having said that, the gondoliers do have 12-18 months of schooling, which includes the learning of languages, local history and passing swimming tests - so I feel this claws back a little bit of respect from their London counterparts (how many cabbies are polyglots?)….

... and this is why the Gondoliers call out as they approach a bend in the canal!

Becoming a gondolier is no easy feat—it’s a demanding job that requires physical skill, deep knowledge of the canals, and a healthy dose of chat, not to mention a willingness to take on a pretty big loan for the gondola, (although I suspect that this is pretty well catered for by the €90-120 price of each ride - an expensive flat rate). There’s a waiting list to get on the water too - no retirements in a year means no new gondoliers.

When the gondolas were regulated black in the 1500’s, so was the gondolieri’s uniform and this stayed the same till after WW2. Now they have the instantly recognisable uniform of black trousers, striped shirt and straw hat with a black or white jacket.

Fancy a gondola ride at sunset on the Grand Canal with all that evening traffic - not for me !

There is a shop, Emilio Ceccato, (Just next to the Rialto) that sells authentic gondolier shirts (Campo San Polo 16/17) and by purchasing the authentic option, you are helping to safeguard the gondola industry. Sustaining the economy in Venice is massively important. At some point in time I will write about this, but in the meantime, please promise you will not go to Venice on a cruise. That’s a blog post on it’s own. We need to Save Venice.

Back in the day, gondoliers were highly respected, and their status could even bring them some fame. Today, while the role is still respected, the job is more tourist related. The job of a gondolier is less about being a social figure and more about providing an iconic experience for tourists looking for that quintessential Venetian ride. 

However, if you can’t (or don’t want to) afford the €90+  fare, just remember that there are limited bridges across the Grand Canal - so look out for the Traghetti - which are essentially big gondolas with the exclusive job of traversing the canal. It costs more for tourists (€2) to use than the locals (€0.70), and you can always tell the locals - they stand on the boat (a big gondola) whilst crossing - the tourists sit! Don’t moan too much about the price discrepancy, the locals need to get about town on their daily business and the tourist fare helps to maintain the service that is stressed greatly by foreigners!

Top tips for a gondola ride….

Don’t insist on a gondola trip to take you under the Bridge of Sighs as the “sigh” thing is nothing to do with romanticism anyway, the sighs were sighs of despair from the prisoners walking over the bridge from the court in the palace into the prison - which offered little other then misery, cold, overcrowing, disease and darkness! (The diseases recorded here were highly influential in providing medical education for the medical teaching in Europe - pathology not for the feint hearted!)

Palace LHS - Prison RHS - it's obvious now perhaps & nothing romantic about the cells that's for sure!

Avoid the cruise ship area (Piazza San Marco) - beautiful as it is, because the gondoliers here have to put up with selfie wielding, self obsessed individuals who are often rude and demanding and on a tight cruise schedule (this is also where there are gondola-jams too). The gondoliers will not be able to tell you apart from the less pleasant clients, so don’t expect much in the way of banter from them.

Pretty - but lots of selfie wielding cruise passengers, traffic jams & bumpy rides on the open lagoon 

Be aware that on the Grand Canal, you are in competition with a lot of things that are bigger, wider and definitely faster than your 11.1m of gondola....!

See the gondola (bottom left) avoiding the faster, bigger traffic...?

Go to the quiet places - you’ll get more talking and a better atmosphere. Compare a car drive in the countryside to rush hour city driving - imagine the “gondoliering” equivalent….

That's more like it...!

Daytime cost is the same anywhere at €90 during the day and then €120 at nighttime. This doesn’t include a tip.

Make it an event of the day - it’s going to cost, but consider just a couple of you doing it in style, rather than trying to cram loads of travellers into the same boat to reduce the price.

As well as the gondolieri clothes noted above, Consider visiting one of the four remaining forcula workshops in the city for a bit of authentic Venice - here’s the links:

• Paolo Brandolisio
• Le Forcole
• Remi e Forcole
• Il Forcolaio Matto 

Chat away to your gondolier, he will be a font of knowledge for the local area and you’ll learn loads about the real Venice.

"Taxi Rank"

So next time you’re in Venice, take a moment to appreciate the gondolas and their gondoliers. They’re symbols of a city that has lived through centuries of change, yet help it to continue to sail forward, one oar stroke at a time.

Tied up for the night

So this is my last post for now about La Serenissima (Venice’s stylish and suitably romantic name of old). We’ll go onto somewhere else in the world for my next post, I reckon. 

I'm excited to share some more places with you in the months to come, some will be familiar and some perhaps less so. So here's till next time.... Oh and by the way - all but one of these images were iPhone photos.

All the best,

Colin 

Welcome back, fellow wanderers and photography enthusiasts!

In this blog post, let’s both take a dive into the vibrant and enchanting world of Venice, a stunning city that offers a sensational opportunity for travellers and photographers. Whilst a photograph can capture a moment of “light”, I feel that it can be fun to look at things differently and so I’ve been reading about how we can use a wider sense awareness, beyond solely light and vision, in order to enrich our travelling experience and deepen our connection to the "captured" moment. 

Oh, by the way, I know I had said that this was to be an iPhone photography post, but please excuse me, I thought Venice was more interesting. For what it's worth though, all the pictures in this article were taken with my iPhone….

San Giorgio Maggiore across the lagoon  from the Doge's Palace at sunrise

So let me suggest ways in which we can use our five basic senses of sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch to explore and enhance our journeying and inspire.

Sense 1 - Sight: The Visual Symphony of Venice

Let’s start with the obvious sense of sight. After all, Venice is a city that is truly unique and engages the eyes at every canal turn. 

1. Architecture: What a melting pot…! East has met West for almost 2000 years now (The 5th century CE seems to be the time the city was founded.) It’s fascinating to think that this place was the interface between East and West with all of the styles / foods / spices / materiel that was exchanged between different cultures and challenged societal norms!

Detail from The Doge's Palace  - the ultimate in architectural fusion

Architecturally, there’s so many influences here from 

• Byzantine… to…
• Islamic… to…
• Venetian Renaissance… to…
• Baroque… to…
• Gothic…

The Columns of San Marco ....See postscript for further historical detail*

2. Canals - they meander and constantly surprise - one never looks quite the same as the other. Added to this, each canal needs a multitude of bridges (all 435 of them) each of which are similarly unique.

3. Clarity of light - The light here is different. Perhaps it’s the lack of car and industrial pollution that we now sadly take for granted, but the air clarity is stunning. To believe this, you need to experience the view!

4. Colour - to me Venice is a palette of pastel, with the high saturation and luminance of buildings on the island of Burano pushing the scale! 

See what I mean about the pastel....?

Sense 2 - Sound: The Melodic Echos of Venice

The auditory landscape of Venice is rich and varied, creating an atmosphere that photographers can hope to suggest within their story.

1. Shouting - Whilst the gondolieri don’t sing - they do shout sonorously as they approach canal corners!

A gondola ride is expensive but well worth it - more about gondola tradition next post

2. The gondoliers’ oars create a very distinctive auditory swish in the water.

3. The sirens of emergency boats (not vehicles) - and yup - the Casualty loading bay is on the water’s edge!

4. The constant lapping of water on stone

Sense 3 - Smell: The Aromatic Essence of Venice

Venice's scent palette is a mix of fresh maritime air and the earthy aroma of old stone and wood. There’s some smell of decay, but it’s limited (and for me, on a more recent visit it was enormously better than decades ago when I visited as a teenager and there was a horribly frequent smell of sewage!)

1. It’s what you don’t smell - no car fumes - it’s great!

The light is awesome

2. Coffee - The aroma of coffee coming from the bars and tabacchi as you walk along the streets.  So with this in mind let me digress to say a little about Venice and coffee…..

a. In 1591 there is mention of the beneficial effects of coffee by a doctor working for the Venetian consul in Cairo. The Eastern trade via the Ottomans made coffee available for trade and Venice was the filter (if you’ll excuse the pun) for European coffee trading.

b. Venice was the first western city to sell coffee in bars. There is record that this required an edict from the Pope (Clement VIII to be exact) to allow for the “foreign” concoction of coffee to be drinkable by the masses as it was considered sinful (as were most things that were new) by the uneducated.

c. In 1638 the first bar / coffee house opened in Piazza San Marco (that’s where we get the term barista by the way!) and a hundred years later, there was a law passed limiting the number of bars selling coffee. By 1758 there were 206 coffee houses and 34 in Piazza San Marco alone.

d. In 1720, Florian’s Coffee House in San Marco was opened and it is still as busy (and expensive) as it was 300 years ago. Have a coffee there and you’ll be drinking in Casanova’s 1720’s favourite coffee place!

3. Seafood - Venice is part of the Italy formed in the 19th century, but it’s not what may be considered archetypal Italian food as it’s more seafood than pasta and pizza. So if you’re a seafood afficionado, this is the place for you, it's the mainstay in the small tabacchi / bars with their cicchetti. (Snacks served as lunch / aperitif / snacks - so very liberally and enormously tastefully!)

4. What better than a restaurant aroma - food is done so well in this city that the mixtures of fragrances and aromas in the restaurants is just wonderful.

Sense 4 - Taste: The Food of Venice

Venice offers a true culinary adventure that can elevate your experience as a travelling photographer. It will engage your taste buds and inspire your storytelling.

I've got to recommend this place, Birraria La Corte, Campo San Polo, the food is awesome & everybody is heading towards - a good sign

It's a mild evening, there's chatter from those outside, the food aroma gets stronger the closer you get - what a way to anticipate a meal!

1. Cicchetti - the variations are endless. This is finger food that is exquisite. Seafood / meat / vegetarian variations that change by the day. 
2. Beer - take with above!
3. April / Campari Spritzes - they’re all over Italy but the Venice options seem special….
4. The quality of all the food even snacks at the railway station, puts many other countries to shame.

Sense 5 - Touch: The Textural Tapestry of Venice

Venice is a city that invites touch—whether it's the smooth marble and glass mosaic of the basilica or the wood of a gondola. However, for my beautiful wife and I, - touch was…

1. Wet feet in the Aqua Alta: 

The Aqua Alta is the name given to autumnal / winter high tides that flood some of the city (Piazza San Marco is the lowest lying part of the city so if Aqua Alta’s going to be anywhere, it’ll be here.

The start of an  Aqua Alta in San Marco

My beautiful wife and I came out of the Basilica and were going to Museo Correr in the far corner for lunch (the sandwiches are fab and the view of the Piazza and Campanile is stunning! 

There was a very mild aqua alta and the crowds were going very slowly around the edge of the square, so slowly in fact, that we just “went for it” and ploughed through the water to the stunned amazement of all the dry footed people at the edges. We laughed and had so much fun - OK perhaps not the cleanest of water - but do you remember jumping in puddles, just for the hell of it when you were a kid….! 

2. The condensation and coolness of a beer glass sitting in the bar at the Rialto Bridge,

Seeing Venice is a walking game. So you get hot. Beers are earned and Venetian bars excel with the coldness of their pours, which means that the touch of the condensation on the outside of that first glass of beer after a busy morning getting lost Is second to none! (Trust me, if you haven’t got lost in Venice - you haven’t explored Venice!)

3. The touch of using some bread to soak up the olive oil and herbs from your plate at the restaurant.

4. The feel of sea spray being thrown onto your face by passing boats as you travel in a vaporetto to the city from the airport is one of the most bracing preparations for entering any city!

Other Senses Peculiar to Venice

There’s a lot more senses that I could comment upon, but I’ll just make a few suggestions…..

Unique - a vierw of San Giorgio and the lagoon from the Doge's Palace Ballroom - I challenge you to get this with no people in sight!

1. A sense of absolute personal safety (pretty unique!).

2. A sense of complete uniqueness and individuality. (It seems the people are Venetians first then Italians…)

3. A sense of relaxed style. (Go beyond the “cruise ship area” and you’ll see what I mean.)

4. A sense of artistry. (Whether it’s Murano glass or architecture or the Venice Carnival every February - this place has great style!)

Conclusion: A Sensory Symphony

By engaging our senses, we can transform our photography into a richer, more immersive experience. My experiences will be different to yours even when we visit the same places, but that’s the fun of it!

There’s no right or wrong here, so I invite you to share your own 5 senses+ experiences and photographs of Venice (and anywhere else for that matter), in the comments below. 

All too often, we limit ourselves to the obvious. I’m hoping that this article may provoke a different viewpoint or two. Let’s inspire each other to use our senses to see beyond the obvious and capture the heart of the places we explore.

Until next time, happy shooting!

Warm regards,

Colin

All the gondoliers know each other - they have chats as they float by....

P.S. Just for the record, the classic “five senses” is now pretty much outdated. Thousands of years ago, Aristotle started us with five, but there’s definitely more …(perhaps we have another topic for us to explore).

P.P.S. as promised - here's some more info about the Columns of San Marco

*We see two columns - but there should have been three - one was dropped in the water! Somebody was employed for many years to try to locate and recover but their lack of success is evident...

Napoleon stole the lion on top of the right hand column - it was returned in 1815 and was promptly dropped and broken into 20 pieces, replaced in 1816 and then removed again during WW2 and not replaced until 25 April 1991.

The left hand column originally held up a statue of St Theodore, the original Saint of Venice - until Mark usurped him. His legend as a martyred Roman soldier grew as a dragon slayer - so the dragon was symbolised by the crocodile that we now see. 

Prisoners were tied between the two columns before their execution - facing the clock on the other sign of the square to remind them of their limited time left in the world. (Venetians are said to refuse to walk between the columns for this very reason.)

An angry looking sky overhanging Florence in late summer

I’m thrilled to have you join me for our second blog post. Today’s offering looks at our first broadening of the fortnightly blog horizon to explore some fun thoughts about the philosophy of photography that might ring true with some of you. Other posts will look at more conventional subjects perhaps, but I'm keen to make this adventure just slightly different, perhaps thoughtful  in the hope it may provoke some fun discussions.

Photography has the fantastic potential to be far more than just a means of recording some pretty views seen on a holiday. It can be considered as an art form that serves as both an external creative outlet to share with the big, bad world and at the same time an internal pathway for mindfulness and equanimity for the inner self. 

There are countless talented photographers out there, so I’m suggesting starting our journey by focusing on the powerful, personally transformative aspects of photography, where success is subjective, not objective, and is better measured by those “WOW” photographs that cause us to pause, enjoy and wonder.

Photography as a Mindful Escape

In the frenetic pace of modern life, photography can offer the possibility of a much-needed escape into a world of focus, observation, and presence. One of the ways I can best take this thought further is to suggest we have some fun by drawing an analogy between food and photography…

Spices in the Spice Bazaar in Istanbul 

On the one hand there’s the photography equivalent of fast food - when we just pick up our camera/phone and take a snapshot. In foodie terms, when hasn’t there been an occasion when some fish & chips, or a burger and chips has been the perfect meal during a day that has been going at 1000mph or perhaps when we’re just tired and want something simple and fast that involves no washing up. (Oh and by the way, didn’t it taste GREAT!)

Then there’s the other end of the spectrum. To me, this is epitomised by the concept of Slow Food.

Slow Food was started when the opening of a very well known fast food outlet at The Spanish Steps in Rome caused an uproar that, in turn, saw the start of Slow Food © - an organisation that wants to promote more than just the speed of food-to-plate.

Hot air baloon ride in Morocco - doesn't get much slower than this... 

For me this food comparison parallels taking snapshots and the enjoyment of photography. Don’t get me wrong, I have taken, and still take, many snapshots, but I love my photography more (just as I love making dough for home made pizzas or cooking a curry from scratch better than going to a fast food outlet) and it's this that I like to feel is an artful pursuit.

The Art of Being Present

Artful photography insists on our presence. Regardless of what we put in our frame, we learn to concentrate ... and observe ...and appreciate ...the details of everything that our images contain. This practice of intense focus can allow us to anchor ourselves in the present, embodying mindfulness with every shutter click.

Landscapes: Nature’s Tranquility

Landscape photography in particular, I feel stands as a testament to nature’s calming influence. The grandeur of mountains, the stillness of lakes, and the serenity of forests invite us to slow down and immerse ourselves in their beauty.

The Healing Power of Nature

Research indicates that spending time in nature, reduces stress and boosts well-being. By photographing these landscapes, we can extend these benefits, creating visual reminders of tranquility that we can return to whenever life feels overwhelming. Each landscape photo is more than a picture - it's a mental sanctuary that unfailingly offers peace and reflection.

Cityscapes: Harmony in the Hustle

Walking from the train station to the Leaning Tower, somebody with a great sense of humour decided to warn us....!

On first encounter, cityscapes might seem at odds with the concept of mindfulness, but urban photography teaches us to find order, fun and beauty amidst chaos. It’s about capturing the underlying soul of a city - the amazing architecture, the light and shadow and in doing so, lets us see with a different set of eyes, seeing things that most people overlook in their daily rush.

Cultivating Equanimity

... and on that day it seemed they were correct or do I just need to crop a little bit more realistically...? 

By seeking out the calm within this chaos, we can also nurture equanimity—the ability to maintain mental and emotional balance even in challenging environments. Cityscape photography fosters an appreciation for the moment, no matter how hectic the urban atmosphere happens to be.

The Photographic Journey

My journey through photography isn’t solely about technical mastery or competition (Just as well!). It’s a personal journey, where success is not defined by the number of competitions I can win or images that I can sell, but success to me is creating “WOW” pictures - those breathtaking shots that makes the viewer pause, enjoy the uniqueness of the moment, and feel….. good.

There's not many places better than Venice that can give pause for thought...

For what it’s worth, here’s my thoughts on some of the key features that make photography fun for me. You may agree or disagree. Either way - please let me know what features matter most to you, on your own personal photographic quest.

1. Embracing a Positive Philosophy

• Photography isn’t just about the final product; it’s about the process and the experience and the people you meet on the way. Appreciating the act of exploring new places, meeting new people, and discovering beauty in unexpected moments - what could be better.

2. Practicing Mindful Shooting

• Taking time with each shot. There’s no rush. Notice the uniqueness of light and textures. Being present and aware enhances not only the photographs being taken but also the overall experience.

3. Celebrate Your Progress

• Success isn’t about having the most followers or the fanciest equipment. Instead, it’s celebrating those WOW moments.

4. Share and Inspire

• By sharing photographs and the journey, we can inspire others to embark on their own quests and in doing so, promote values such as mindfulness, creativity and equanimity.

Barcelona moped - tI'm a mug for taking photographs of motorcycles and vespas... 

Join a Community

As we continue this journey together, let’s build a space that transcends mere photography tips (although they are important!), focusing more on the enriching, mindful experiences that photography can provide. Let’s inspire each other to see the world that celebrates those “WOW…!” moments.

Feel free to share your own experiences, insights, and photographs in the comments below. I would be delighted if we could support one another in cultivating a positive philosophy and enjoy that elusive quality of equanimity.

Let's travel together - slowly is just fine..! 

What’s next…?

I have enjoyed this post. So what’s next…? Currently, I’m in the process of planning a journey with my fantastic wife and it has given me hope that there’ll be lots of images and experiences that will furnish a few posts and will take us away from philosophy and more towards travel tips and some fun photographs.

Before then, I’m keen to put some thoughts together about iPhone photography, discussing the use of what has fast become my regular backup and on one recent holiday, my main, camera. I’m hoping the comparisons will be positive! So that’s for next week…..

Until then, happy traveling and happy shooting!

Warm regards,

Colin

The Scottish Highlands (feat. Suilven) 

Hello, fellow travellers and photo enthusiasts!

I'm thrilled to welcome you to a community where landscapes and cityscapes are more than just images—they're stories, emotions, and memories. My name is Colin Scott, and my journey here has been anything but ordinary. In years gone by, I wore an Army uniform and a stethoscope together, before navigating and enjoying the complex world of civilian UK General Practice. I then wanted (needed) to do something different, so to the surprise of most people, I chose an entirely different path — distilling gin. However, the twists and turns of that venture under influences beyond my control (i.e. COVID-19 - which shredded the business plan only 72 hours after the still was commissioned), set the stage for my rebirth into another passion: travel and landscape photography.

Florence

[An image taken whilst doctoring but rescued  for display here by new-found skills]

The Call to Adventure

My work as a doctor was truly rewarding. The clinical challenges posed by General Practice and my love of training junior doctors gave me a job that was second to none. At the same time, it was personally draining with the ever mounting administrative pressures imposed  in tandem with relentless budget cuts. So, although this was my hard-won profession, deep within, a different call beckoned to do something creative. This call led me to launch a gin business, a dream driven by a desire to craft a classic London Dry Gin that would stand against all comers as well as wanting to enjoy the challenge of developing modern flavours that would give joy to people in a completely new way. By virtue of winning two European medals, we seemed to be making good progress.

The Brandenburg Gate

[We would visit Germany at Christmas time for the Markets - Berlin or Köln - after our time in (West) Germany as it was then]

Trials and Tribulations

As exhilarating as it was to dive into the world of gin, the journey was fraught with challenges. The difficulties imposed by COVID-19 created previously unmet complexities in the spirits market and our new businesses endured financial and marketing pressures greater than established ones. It gradually became clear that I was fighting an uphill battle in a turbulent industry. The struggle left me contemplating my path, searching for a way to reclaim my passion for life and purpose.

The Aga Khan Mausoleum at the First Cataract of the Nile

[Taken just days after having to leave the Gin business - the solitude of The Nile was enormously comforting at a difficult time]

The Rescue: A Lens for a New Life

It was during this turbulent time that my old love for photography rekindled. I had been captivated from childhood by the magic of photography, seeing my Dad enjoy capturing images and although he always seemed to be 100 yards behind us, (tour guides and family both going bananas!) he always seemed laser focused and even as a youngster I could somehow understand his equanimity and the need to create his own pace.

By now it wasn’t just a hobby—it became something special. Choosing to invest in some serious training, I pushed myself to increase two things - firstly to improve my "keeper ratio" (the number of “keeper” photos compared to the number of photos taken on any one shoot) and secondly developing a photography style that gave my images the “WOW…!" factor. (I now have three photography heroes from the past 10 years and I will give them a shout out very soon.)

So photography turned things around and gave me a new sense of purpose, a way to express myself and connect with the world.

New York skyline with the Brooklyn Bridge

[This was the make or break trip - could I get  some WOW...! photographs and significantly "up my keeper ratio"]

Time Travel

Through my lens, I discovered another way to be creative having enjoyed the thrill of creating gin flavours. Landscapes and cityscapes have always been my thing. Even looking at the photos I took as a child, my subjects were always vistas and rarely people! My Dad had taught me a lot about taking photographs, but the most important thing I learnt from him was that a photograph should never require an explanation, it should talk on its own.

No explanation needed here....!

[Another rescue image from holidays of old]

So with my newfound skills, I started to look through my viewfinder in a different way as well as using my newly discovered post-processing skills to look at previously taken images with new eyes. The old images I took of the mountains in the Scottish Highlands a few years ago started to come to life, whilst the recent hustle and bustle of New York in 2023 came to life through my lens like never before. Recently too, standing in the glorious golden hour of sunset on the idyllic Santorini cliffs, I felt an excitement never felt previously. 

To me this is the essence of "The Highlands" 

[Taken in October 2017 - Story to follow in a blog post of its own!]

Crossing the Threshold

This transformative journey from military medicine to civilian life to gin and finally to photography, continues to be an incredible adventure. I created this website not just to share my ongoing evolution, but in the hope of inviting you to embark on a photographic adventure with me. Whether you're a seasoned photographer or a curious beginner, I hope to humbly share a small number of photographic tips, techniques, and inspiration that come from taking images in some fun places and finding beauty in the world anew. However I also hope to share more useful and practical non-photographic tips and ideas about the places to which I have travelled, from food to public transport and everything in between!

[One of hundreds taken in the golden hour and blue hour - all different.....]

Share Your Stories

This space isn’t just about my journey; it’s about ours. I encourage you to join me to share your own photos, stories, and experiences. Let’s build a community that inspires and supports each other in our quest to capture the world’s beauty, one photo at a time.

Thank you for being here at the start of something special. Let’s embark on this visual journey together and see the world through many different lenses.

Happy traveling and happy shooting!

Warm regards,

Colin

Jet-lagged and desperate not to miss the sunset after landing just 3 hours previously, I pretty much ran from W24th Street to  the water, choosing to aim for the Manhattan Bridge for no other reason than it was closer - I made it just in time...!