an open invitation to you all…

Well, that’s that then. Game over. Finito.

I landed back in Glasgow last monday with a lot less of a bump than when reality came crashing back in sometime mid-week. It’s hard to describe how life feels when you get home after a long trip. It’s a little like everything’s the same but different. Glasgow’s not changed much since I left (almost two years ago given my time in Kendal before heading for Patagonia). Then again, a lot of friends have left, and a lot of familiar haunts have gone too.

The trip itself seems different in my mind than it did two weeks ago too. It was still real then, by the very fact that I was still on it. Now if it wasn’t for a hard drive full to bursting with photos I’m not sure I’d be convinced that it wasn’t all just a very long, rather strange dream. Thankfully, not only not only have I still got that drive full of photos I’ve also got the exhibition to work on for the next couple of weeks, easing the pain a little and softening the impact as Life tries to sneak up and shanghai me once more. After much indecision, processing and reprocessing I finally dropped off the final selection of prints at the framers this afternoon.

With that all in hand for the moment, I thought I’d take the chance to let you know what the script is for the exhibition over the next few weeks. A lot of you know what it’s all about already, but bear with me as we seem to have picked up a few more folks along the way since the blog started back in November!

The exhibition is not just my work, it’s a joint show that I’m part of along with Jaime Medina Jimenez, a painter from Chile. The concept that we’re working around is that I’ve travelled from the Lake District in Cumbria to photograph the area he grew up painting. Jaime in turn has spent some time in Cumbria painting the area I normally photograph. Everything on display will be new work produced specifically for this show. I’ve not seen what Jaime’s produced for the exhibition as yet, but have seen some of his other work. He has a wonderful style and a great talent for capturing the atmosphere of a place and I’m really looking forward to seeing him unveil his Cumbrian paintings on opening night.

Which is what this post is all about: we’re having a small opening event at 19:30 on the 19th of May in the Theatre by the Lake, Keswick. I’ve been quite astonished at the level of interest in the blog since I started it, so thanks folks. It’d be great if some of you guys could make it along to see what I’ve been rambling on about in person. Entry is free, so just turn up. It’s also woth pointing out again that the exhibition is being run as part of the Keswick Mountain Festival and that there’s a whole lot of great events in and around Keswick between the 19th nad 23rd of May.

With respect to the photographs themselves, in the end I’ve decided to produce only a limited edition run of 120 of each of the images that will be shown. Each print is numbered, signed and produced by myself using the best pigment based inks on acid free 100% cotton rag fine art paper. The first print of each of the images will be available at the Theatre by the Lake exhibition.

Now that they are all at the framers and out of my hands for the next week, I guess that I’ve got some time to sit back and think about life, the trip and what to do next. Thankfully, there’s also the Scottish Highlands to re-familiarise myself with! I’ve not checked everywhere just yet, but so far I still don’t think there’s anywhere more beautiful in the world than what we’ve got on our doorstep. Perhaps a wee trip north is in order…. Fancy hanging around for the ride?

the Falloch last weekend

Sydney, the Blue Mountains and a great big hole

I’ve tried, but I really can’t think why a civilised country would need to have the thermostat set at 28 centigrade all the time. Being just a simple wee Scotsman and I feel like I’m melting most of the time, so the key this past week has been “low energy activities.” If they happen to involve sitting taking in the view with a beer from a bar in the Rocks, or seeing King Lear at the Opera House, all the better.

Opera House abstract

I’ve got to admit that I like Sydney much more than I thought that I would. It’s a great city, with plenty to do and a cracking atmosphere. It’s also a good place to wander around with a camera, as made evident by the hoards of photographers at the more popular sites. It’s a bit of a double edged sword, that: you pick out a nice composition in the afternoon and return at sunset, only to arrive there and find your shot full of people with tripods! I’m not really sure I understand why either: all these people with big fancy cameras lined up on the very last rock before the water’s edge, with nothing but open water between them and the opera house and the harbour bridge. How can they not see that they are standing on the perfect foreground?!

Ah well, back for sunset then, when it’s nice and cool….

I also took a brief jolly into the Blue Mountains this week, so called because the mist of oils from the eucalyptus trees that hangs in the air makes them look blue, and because everything else for hundreds of miles around is pancake-flat.

You could argue that the Three Sisters (above) are the New South Wales equivalent of the Torres del Paine. There are pictures of them everywhere you go in Sydney: in the tourist shops and agencies, in the train stations, on bill-boards…. If there’s one place* outside the city that you simply must visit, it’s the Three Sisters. Measured against the Torres del Paine, they hardly even register. In fact, having just come from Patagonia the Blue Mountains on the whole really don’t make the grade in the mountain stakes.

But what’s in a name? Call them the Little Blue Hills with Trees On and it’s another story: what they lacks in drama, majesty and ruggedness they compensate for in atmosphere, mellowness and being a much more reasonable temperature than Sydney. It might not be somewhere that I’ll be rushing back to, but I throughly enjoyed my day walking along the cliffs of the plateau.

I also took the time to visit another star attraction of the area: the Jenloan Caves. These caves have been a tourist attraction since around the 1830′s, and it’s easy to see why. I’ve been down a few holes in my life, but I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a more spectacular cave system. The limestone formations are as varied as they are incredible, as beautiful as they are difficult to photograph. I gave it my best shot though, just or you guys.

*one place that’s not a beach anyway….

Banos De Caulle

Scotland is old. I mean, really old. Some of the oldest rocks in the world are in Scotland. You go for a walk in Scotland and you know that you are walking in a finely refined landscape that has gradually approached it’s current near-perfect beauty over the course of countless millenia: the rocks and mountains finely sculpted by brutal ice ages and delicate weathering, the rivers and streams coursing through hard-won gorges and valleys formed over aeons of relentless erosion by the force of the water. It’s a landscape comfortable with what it is, continuing to slowly change just to keep itself fresh, but ultimately secure in itself.

Not so the Lakes District in Chile, and certainly not the landscape I spent the last four days walking in. It’s so new it’s not even finished yet, and the processes of it’s creation are there laid out before you everywhere you look. That’s not to say that it’s not worth visiting, quite the opposite! I’ve got to admit that the four days I spent walking on the Banos De Caulle trail were some of the most interesting, beautiful days I’ve had since I got to South America – and that’s really saying something.

It a stark, and frankly sometimes even slightly surreal place to visit, particularly on your own. As you traverse around the upper slopes of Volcan Puyehue towards the Banos you are essentially crossing a desert. You might be walking across barren white sands and pumice in the blazing sunshine, but through the clouds beneath you there is a glorious view of the lakes and forests. It’s like it’s teasing you: water!

I have seen things over the last four days that I have only ever seen on the television before now: bubbling mud pools, steaming fumaroles, scorpions and almost as many lizards as there are stars in the sky. Oh, and a very confused walker trying to figure out why the large boulder he has just thrown in the river to use as a stepping stone is floating away downstream….

the stars in the sky

I’ve also decided that every trek should end at a hot spring!

As nice as that was though, I’ve got to admit that I found it quite a hard route. Perhaps it was the end of the cold taking it’s toll. Perhaps it was the simple fact that a Scotsman is not designed to traverse a desert environment at these temperatures. The third day in particular was hard work: With photo-taking time it was around a five hour round trip to the Geysers, then another four or so to get back to the area of the refugio. After over 9 hours carrying a load in the heat, walking on sand and loose rock, I was ready to quit for the night. I was reay to hang up my walking boots forever, come to that. I really, really didn’t want to have to go to visit the summit of the volcano.

But when else am I going to get the chance to peer in the crater of a volcano?

“Next week in Pucon.”

I’ll regret it if I don’t.

“No, I really won’t.”

You promised your sister a rock from the top of a volcano, and Villarica’s covered in snow.

“Ah, nuts” *

The 1.5 hour ascent of the last 550 meters of Volcan Puyehue, relentlessly upwards and exclusively through deep, loose sand and gravel was almost enough to break me both physically and mentally (though the 23 minute run back down was glorious!).

As I sat below the volcano this morning waiting for the bus back to town I opened a perfectly chilled Coke, looked up through the clouds to the volcano and thought to myself:

“up there somewhere, some poor sod is having the time of his life.”

*paraphrasing

Seven Lakes and Osorno again

Well, it’s got to be said that the weather over the last few days has been in stark contrast to what I experienced the last time I went out for a walk! It’s been clear blue skies and blazing sunshine all the way. Having taken on a bit of a stinking head cold and throat infection, either due to sharing dorms all the time or being wet for 48 hours straight last week, I was exceptionally glad to have the offer to join a couple that I met on the Navimag for a couple of days: more banter, less exertion!

We took in El Bolson, around 150km south of Bariloche, and spent the afternoon being typical tourists around the artesan markets for the day rather than flogging ourselves in the hills. Well, ok, we did make it up a short walk to visit the site of an old forest fire where artists from around the world come to carve the dead trees into all manner of forms. Well worth the trip.

The next day Dave and Augustine decided to hold onto their rental car and we took in a fair portion of the “Seven Lakes” circuit. We managed around five of the seven, but given my inclintion for peering at rocks for hours on end through a viewfinder, and the fact that Augustine (being a photography teacher back in Oz) was similarly motivated, we did really quite well. Dave is clearly possessed with the patience of a saint….

The scenery was stunning, and constantly changing. It was quite astonishing just how much the landscape changed in the course of the day – you could have been forgiven for thinking that you were a world away from where you had sat for lunch just a half an hour previously….

And it was nice to be out with another photographer again. I really enjoy working on my own; landscape photography is a solitary pursuit for the most part. But every now and again, it’s good to get out in the hills with another photographer, and after two and a half months of solo trekking and shooting it was great to have a day out with someone else that shared a common agenda: going back to town with a good shot in the bag.

Ironically, after battling with the wind and rain for the best part of a month, the empty blue skies and the harsh, hard light made it hard to bring the best out of the landscape. I think it would take months of exploring and waiting for the right light to do the area that we covered in that one day any real justice, but we had a throughly enjoyable day out and if Dave and Augustine happen to read this, thanks again!

Dave in a Cave!

I have now returned to Osorno in Chile to attempt the walk around the Banos De Caulle, which I abandoned a week and a half ago due to the horseflies. I’ve been reliably informed that they should have been gone by the end of Jan, so with any luck they won’t be as bad now. That said, I’ve also been reliably informed that they’ll still be out in force. There was a fair few of them at the border crossing from Argentina this afternoon, so I’m not holding out too much hope but I’ll give it a go anyway, as I really want to see this place. I’ve suddenly realised that I’ve only got a few weeks left in Patagonia and there’s still a huge list of things to do, places to see and pictures to take. If this walk doesn’t come off this time around, I’m not wasting any more time on it, I’ll just move onto the next think on the wish-list.

Don’t sweat the small stuff!

Not quite the Nahuel Huapi Traverse

I should have known that it wasn’t going to be an easy ride when the bus to the start of the trek didn’t stop to pick me up: the world was trying to tell me something. If that wasn’t hint enough that I should stay in town, the fact that the cable car wasn’t running should have been.

To be fair, the first day’s walking was very pleasant. A nice traverse along a rocky, windy ridge. Then I dropped down into a beautiful valley below Cerro Catedral to camp for the night. It rained most of the night, and I staying in the tent until late morning in the hope that it’d stop. In the end I got tired of waiting and wrestling with my broken stove (I’d carried my stove on the Helio Sur trek as a back up in case the one provided by El Chalten Mountain Guides broke. It did on the second day, and we used mine – I forgot to swap them back after the trek). I decided that the weather in Patagonia had been consistently inconsistent, and it was bound to stop raining soon and I should start walking.

Apparently I was wrong: the weather here can stay the same for a whole day.

The paths became stream, the streams became torrents. The rivers… well I’d tell you about some of the crossings, but my mum reads this. After a little more than 6 hours walking and scrambling over two passes in the rain I arrived at Refugio San Martin and decided that I didn’t really want to camp. Everything I had was saturated – even the gear that hadn’t left my bag all day. I was soaked to the skin despite being gore’d head to toe and I had to borrow some trousers from the lost and found box….

The next morning however, was utterly stunning! Not exactly clear blue skies, but patchy blue and all the prettier for it. The wind was still fierce, blowing my tripod over down by the lake. That combined with a fresh dump of snow meant that it would have been reckless to try the next stage of the trek, which was a long, exposed ridge. I decided to bail and return to Bariloche, tail between my legs, and dry myself out.

It’s a shame really, but that’s just the way it goes I guess. At least when I go out again I’ll have dry kit and (hopefully) a stove that works. There’s al dente and there’s crunchy….

the Helio Sur

Technically, I guess it was a walk in the Park, though it certainly wasn’t your average sunday afternoon stroll….

I also suppose that I might have been slightly naive in my reasons for going on the trip. I was sitting on the bus on the way back to Chalten and I decided that I really wanted to be able to see and to photograph Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre from the other side: from the ice field. As good a reason as any, but the circuit has so much more to offer than just that!

Fitz Roy from the front

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t that confident that we’d make it when we left Chalten. The weather forecast wasn’t promising and the first day’s walking saw us meet two other groups that were attempting the same route as us. All of them were retreating. One of them had spent a few days in the refugio on the Marconi Pass before bailing out, the other group had their tent destroyed by the wind at the first campsite.

Valle Electrico from the first camp

The trend continued the next day, with another couple of groups retreating off the Marconi Glacier as we ascended towards it: despite the reports from these groups of bad conditions, and the uninspiring weather forecast that we had, we had started so we might as well try to get up the pass anyway. It was a bit breezy on the way up, but we chanced upon an absolute gift: a perfectly constructed snow shelter left by a party of Russians that had passed through the day before (we could tell it was them by the litter they had left – good skills with the construction of the shelter, but not much in the way of respect for the landscape). We camped there, right in the middle of the Marconi Pass that night.

In fact, we spent a few days camped there, pinned down by the weather. Occasional breaks would allow me to sneak out with the camera, and as luck would have it, we even got a peek at Fitz Roy through the clouds on the first night. After two days stuck in the same spot, we decided to take advantage of a brief break in the weather to move to a refugio an hour’s walk away (not being sure that the tent would survive another night). We might have been in a bit of a rush to get the tent down and the gear sorted, but I managed to snatch a few quick shots while the weather was good – I got the shot of Fitz Roy from behind that I’d wanted!

Fitz Roy from behind

The refugio provided some welcome shelter, and more exceptional views over the Ice Field. The relatively calm weather lasted long enough to get some shots at dusk, before darkness fell and the wind returned. Definitely a good decision to abandon the camping that night!

The next morning the weather had broken, so we made a break for it. Most groups camp half way down the Ice Field, with the possibility of exceptional views of Cerro Torre. By the time we got there around 2pm, the wind had returned and we had to carry on. It seemed that I was going to miss out on the other half of my original reason for being there but as we plodded on in the snow shoes, the clouds parted just briefly…. I’m not sure if it was the summit of Cerro Torre or Cerro Egger that poked briefly through the hole in the clouds, but it made my day anyway! It lasted just a few seconds – no time to get the camera out – but for some reason I’m ok with that. I’d set my heart on seeing it, and over the four days leading up to it had slowly resigned myself to the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. Happening to glance up the one time that it peeked through seemed like a gift: perhaps a reward for having made the effort when everything seemed stacked against us.

And to be honest, there was so much more out there to enjoy out there that if I hadn’t seen it, it would still have been an amazing trip. The 60 to 70 mph winds (gusting lord knows what!) meant that it wasn’t easy or practical to stop and spend a lot of time setting up a photo, but the views really were stunning. I’ve nothing that really does the day justice, and I’m not a good enough writer to express it properly, so you’ll just have to take my word for it this time.

As Adrian said after the trip: everyone makes it round the circuit when the conditions are good. Not many make it when the weather’s like what we encountered. It might not have leant itself to working the angles photographically, but I’ve still come back with a few images I love, the satisfaction of actually having to work a little to complete the route, and with a couple of new friends. All in all, I think the job’s a good ‘un!

new friends

A big vote of thanks to Carl and to the team at El Chalten Mountain Guides, and particularly to our guide Adrian who had the faith to keep going with us when other’s were turning back – cheers lad!

Abbot hall exhibition

Just a really quick note to tell you about a nice wee exhibition in the coffee shop of the Abbot Hall in Kendal.

Over the past year I’ve been part of the Photographers Imdependent Art Group, a small Lakes based group with a remit to promote photography as an art (check out the link to the right). It’s quite a new group and this show is our first public outing together, though the members themselves have all exhibited elsewhere individually.

I was lucky enough that the selection process for the Abbot Hall exhibition took place just before I left Kendal on my travels and so was still able to take part in the exhibition. The range of styles, genres and techniquies on display from such a small group is frankly staggering! Having seen the samples and short-lists in December, I can feel confident in suggesting that if you’re in the area you should pop in for a look.

It’s a little strange being a part of an exhibition that has already been hung (and has already generated some good feedback) but not being able to even see it myself, so if you do make it down to visit, let me know what you think! As I said this is our first exhibition as a group, testing the water a little, so honest feedback is greatly appreciated.

We’ve already started lining up the next exhibition, and I’m looking forward to putting together some new material for it (is it wrong to start thinking about a new project before the finishing the one you’re working on?). For the moment though, a bit big vote of thanks to the others in the group that arranged to frame and hang my contribution while I’m off galavanting!

Cheers,

Dougie

No Paine….

First and foremost folks: a belated Merry Christmas to you all! Thanks to everyone that got in touch one way or another, and I hope that you all had a good one.

Personally, I had a great time! I took a few days to head back to the Torres Del Paine park to try and get some photos of the massive for a distance: as much as trekking the W offered some stunning views, there’s also something about the view of the range from a distance that is quite special. Once again, I was fairly lucky with the weather (right up till Christmas morning!), so I’ll offer up a selection of shots here, the theme being the Cuernos.

Have fun guys! I’m heading south in a few days, so am not sure if I’ll post again before New Year. In the mean time, take care.

the W

The route known as the W in the Torres Del Paine National Park has a reputation for being the best trekking in the world. I can’t say that I’ve tried them all, but it’s certainly not half bad!

It’s not a trail for those wanting to rough it or looking for a little solitude, but with four days of constantly changing landscape, good trails and the option of cooked meals and hot showers at the refugios it’s got a lot to offer. I was fortunate enough to meet some great people along the way: trekking the first two and a half days with a lass I’d bumped in Chaltern, then bumping into an Irish family that I’d played boules with below Fitz Roy, and getting to know (among others) a cracking English couple and their guide at the campsites every night. (If any of you ever need a guide in the Paine area, give Dave a shout: http://www.dittmaradventures.com/ )

From a trekking point of view, the weather was kind again. From a photographic point of view, it was exceptionally frustrating. Lots of “almost” great conditions, but that’s the nature of the game, and you’ve just got to make the most of what you get on the day. And I guess that the silver lining to the cloud is that on days when there’s lots of low cloud and it’s snowing at 4am you get to go back to bed rather than crawl out to try and take some photographs. And not every day was bad!

Spotlight on Torre Central

I tried not to worry about it too much. I am, after all, on holiday: not every day out has to produce perfect pictures. And to be honest, I still maintain that sometimes you get something more representative of the area, more real to most people, when the weather’s not quite perfect.

Coming down from the Torres and rounding the side of the mountains to a sudden view of Los Cuernos up close for the first time, or climbing up into the French Valley, watching the regular avalanches makes for constantly interesting walking. A suitably early start in the morning helps you to make the most of the trails before they get crowded. You still have the pleasure of some good company at the campsites every night, but avoid the crowds during the day – it’s the best of both worlds.

Paine Grande

I still can’t quite grasp just how much the landscape changes from day to day. Each section of the trail has it’s own very distinct geology and character. The imposing, ragged peaks and spires of Paine Grande could not be more different to the sculpted elegance of the Cuernos right next door. Equally, every valley or summit seems to have it’s own weather system. You can be standing in blazing sunshine by Lago Pehoe, watching the snow falling in Val Frances so hard that it completely obscures the mountains.

Paine Grande & Los Cuernos

I’m now back in Puerto Natales, taking a fews days rest to catch up on some processing, some sleep, and some washing. I’ll head back to Paine in a couple of days to try some alternative locations, and get the photos that I wanted from the W. Without feeling the need to complete a set trek, I’ll have more time to sit and wait for the light and the conditions that I’d like, and if I try not to leave my book on the bus this time, the waiting will be all the easier too….

I’ll let you know how I get on.

Puerto Natales

Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre

The changeable (or just plain bad) weather is a fact of life in Patagonia. There are plenty of horror stories about being stuck in a tent for weeks, of visiting Torres del Paine or the Fitz Roy area and not actually seeing the Torres del Paine or Fitz Roy, and just trekking around a big cloud for a week. That’s part of the reason that I’ve given myself so much time down here; time to wait for the weather to let me actually see these legendary mountains rather than just stumble around in their general area. And I’m glad I have. The luck I’ve had so far can’t possibly last.

I have spent the last four days trekking around the Cerro Torre and Fitz Roy area in the Los Glaciares National Park.

It’s not bad.

Day 1
A 3am start from El Chaltern allowed us to catch the sunset from a look-out, distant from the mountain (a Norweigan lad I met on a bus decided to tag along). I’ve read about these mountains in books and climbing magazine for years, and finally seeing them from the road into town yesterday really was quite something. Seeing them all lit up for sunrise was just exceptional!

Cerro Torre at sunrise

Once the sun was properly up, we carried on up the path to Laguna Torres, stopping occasionally when the view demanded getting the camera out.

After Svein departed to catch the late bus back to El Calafate, I scouted around to try and find a composition that I liked. The glacial rubble that constitutes the end of the lagoon made it hard to find a eventually found a nice spot by the river on the way back to the campsite.

Day 2
Another early start, but a slightly more acceptable 4:30 rise. Alas, the conditions weren’t as good as yesterday, and with the low cloud my nice composition went out the window. That said, the atmosphere of the place still made for spectacular viewing!

Moving on, the campsite below Fitz Roy is well shaded in the trees, but step out and you get a grandstand view of the mountain. Watching the sun set behind it was plenty of motivation for another early start the next day.

Day 3
A brutally steep climb for 4am takes you to Laguna de Los Tres, right at the foot of Fitz Roy. The laguna itself is frozen over, but you’ll not find a better place to watch the enormous rock faces burn with the sunrise then this. I tried to set up a timelapse and botched it: schoolboy error. A bit of a mad scramble when I realised this led to a couple of reasonable stills shots while the mountain was still glowing, but I couldn’t help wonder what I’d have got if I’d just stuck to what I know and saved the timelapse for later.

To be honest, I rather liked the colder atmosphere of the shots that I got just after the orange glow faded – it seems slightly more forbidding. That said, I wanted that sunrise shot….

Day 4
It’s hard to get out of your sleeping bag at 3:30am to go climb a mountain (again) when the wind is howling and there’s snow falling outside the door of the tent. In contrast to the dozen or so people that were hiking up yesterday, I was the only one on the route… it’s almost as if they knew something I didn’t. But I gave it a go. It was obvious from the campsite that there was a lot of cloud on the top third of Fitz Roy, which is unfortunate, but I hoped that I might get lucky and if could either lift or even just stay and add to the atmosphere of the scene. About 2/3 of the way up I realised that there was also a lot of low cloud on the horizon and there wasn’t likely to be the same display as yesterday so backed off: time for plan B.

Plan B

There’s been a few things taken me by surprise over the last four days:
- The stunning weather
- How much heavier a 25 to 30 kilo bag gets after 3 ours of up-hill
- Winning at bouls against the Americans and the Irish
- How difficult it is to find a composition to call your own in this place

It seems counter-intuitive to say that it’s hard to find a photo I’m happy with in a place so overtly beautiful. It’s just so stunning, so dramatic and so picturesque that it’s almost tempting just to stand back and take a snap. It’d still be a good photograph, but would be the same as any other photo: it wouldn’t be mine. Besides, the big mountains only tell half the story. They may act like an anchor for your attention almost all the time, but they are only a part of the landscape, they don’t tell the whole story on their own. In the end I found a couple of shots I was happy with and for the first week of shooting that can’t be bad.

I can see this being more of a challenge than I thought….

Cerro Torre Junior