I’m a man on the edge, quite literally. One of the legs of my tripod is a few millimetres from where rock falls away to fresh air and below that is a deep 100ft drop into the frozen waters of the Atlantic ocean.
The journey to get my shot of this famous Faroe Islands waterfall has already proven perilous. Rain has made the rocks underfoot slippy and my hands are so cold that it's even pretty difficult to hold the camera, let along take a crafted shot. If something goes wrong, there’s nobody around to call for help. . . In other words, one wrong move and it’s the end! In that moment, I have a reality check and step back from the ledge before I push my luck and anything goes wrong.
It looks a long way down, I'm just pleased I didn't find out exactly how long!
Weeks later, I'm left reflecting about the experience. In my earlier days, I was all about chasing adventure and taking risks. I didn’t mind heading off up a mountain in the dark to get ready for the sunrise because the rewards could be great. Look on any image hosting website or on social media and you’ll see endless images of photographers pushing the boundaries to capture views that haven’t been seen before. What’s more, the trend these days is to include a subject standing on the edge of the cliff, which is great for adding scale to the scene, but bad news if anything goes wrong. Keeping up with the crowd brings pressure to take even greater risks so that your images stand out from the crowd.
This spot was enough to turn my legs to jelly
Risks for landscape photographers aren't just limited to falling off of things. I remember shooting a scene at a quiet nature spot, it was summer so the best light wasn’t until past nine o’clock in the evening. In my bag was two pro bodies, a few lenses and assorted accessories that probably equated to a good few thousand pound or dollars worth of kit. Out of nowhere appeared three guys who looked like they’d just stepped out an MMA ring and were very out of place for a quaint nature area. They didn’t see me, I was low down setting up my camera, but alarm bells rang loud in my head so I packed up and made my way back to my car before anything could go wrong.
There’s a balance that needs to be achieved between shooting safely and still achieving desired results, which is exactly how I’m now trying to approach my landscape photography. I research the location beforehand to find out everything I can - how far the location is from the road, if there's shelter, if there is any coverage for phones. Speaking of phones I often pack a spare phone - nothing fancy - a cheap backup that can’t receive emails or play videos but could make an important phone call if my regular smartphone goes wrong. I also pack safety gear - if I’m working around rocky conditions, I pack a helmet to shield me from stray debris and I pack ropes and harnesses if the conditions dictate. If I can, I work with a buddy. There’s always safety in numbers and, also, it’s always better fun to have somebody to laugh and joke with when out on a landscape shoot.
Are you getting too close to the edge for your images?
Regardless of safety gear though, I think landscape photographers must listen to their internal barometer, their 'spider sense', call it whatever you like. Each of us knows when a risk is worth taking and when it isn’t. I think getting older and having kids has sharpened this barometer and that I act on it more readily. Every photographer wants to come home after a day with the camera and it’s time to resist the urge for ‘Likes’, ‘Shares’ and peer recognition in favour of self-preservation.
. digitalrev.com2017-7-13 03:00