Anna Gorin Design & Photography

 But thank god for shooting in Raw and keeping the originals. There's hope for all of us yet! Just not overly-blown highlights. Now, to chase some more waterfalls. 

Photographers are beautifully mesmerizing liars sometimes though, and I don't even mean anything touching Photoshop. It's all in the way we choose to present a scene. Once I remember trying to find an epic-looking waterfall along the Oregon Coast at Hug Point, only to discover I was taller than the waterfall and the clever, clever photographer had gotten a near ground-level wide-angle perspective that made the thing look massive. 

 So it is with famous Machu Picchu, up there with the most iconic views in the whole wide world. Photographs can make you believe it's this deserted ghostly Inca fortress, which sounds great until you're there at mid-day struggling for elbow room and avoiding being knocked off a terrace by a selfie stick. Maybe we should tell it like it is more often. 

 But add me to the list of liars, because here I am showing Machu Picchu not as it looked most of the time I was there, but in the very last beautiful minutes at golden hour before the irritable guards started blowing their whistles and gesturing that the site was about to close and I needed to leave. It looks so empty here - Machu Picchu as we we think it should be. It's not Photoshop. But all the same, don't believe a thing you see, because it's only a fraction of the truth. And so I'm joining the photographic tradition and setting everyone else up for unrealistic expectations of their Machu Picchu visit, so they too can arrive, take in the view swarming with tourists, and think "...another lie photography told me." 

 That's something that means the world to me about landscape photography. When you stalk follow other landscape photographers' work to see what the cool people are shooting these days, not only do you get ideas for off-the-beaten-track places to find, but you have an excuse to stick around and take it all in as you photograph it, not just grab a snapshot and move along. 

 This was my second time up at Steptoe Butte and although I prefer it in spring green (I'm a SoCal and southern Idaho girl, we always want what we don't have), the August rain clouds made up for the color change. I feel a little cliche posting a Palouse shot from the Butte, it's so famous to photographers, but every time I've mentioned the spot to non-photographers? 

 They've never heard of it. Not one. 

 It's the time of year when the mountain snows haven't melted yet (and it will be a long while this year!) and I start feeling trapped and restless and ready for another adventure. But it's always good to remind myself that magic is all around if you only know where to look.

 Now? I know a lot more. Theoretically higher-quality camera bodies and lenses too, and so many technical things to keep in mind on how to "do it right." Which has, unfortunately, meant I don't just get out and shoot random nature for the hell of it as much. 

 So because the blossoms around my house were exploding and I was feeling the spring vibe, I decided to get back out there, just for kicks. And it did not go so well! Here I thought my standard 70-200mm 2.8 telephoto was going to be a blast to work with compared to the sluggish 55-250 who-even-knows-what-aperture EF-S kit I used to use. Things I didn't factor in at all? Minimum focal distance. Apparently my swanky 2.8 monster can't get closer than about 5 feet without complaining. I don't think I even knew what minimum focal distance was back when I was shooting nature more often, and somehow knowing less with inferior equipment left me better off. 

 2.8 telephoto plans scrapped, I decided maybe cheaper is better and attached my 50mm 1.4 to the smallest of my set of macro tubes, having to set the aperture manually (I believe this was f/8), adjust for light loss, and all that fun stuff that comes with attaching an electronicless glassless tube to your camera body. And man was it difficult trying to get in close enough, focus manually, and not get a raging headache from visually tracking these blossoms swaying in the wind. 

 I like how this one turned out. (Can you really go wrong with weeping cherry blossoms after all?) But I think I still like my old stuff more. The less I know, the better?

And you know what else is cool? Traveling with other photographers for once. My guides around Yosemite were two friends who had brought me down to California to photograph their wedding (the primary reason for the trip!), and were kind enough to take the time out of their busy wedding week to show me around the park. One is a fellow photographer, meaning he knew all the cool places, and when he spotted this shockingly symmetrical reflection of Yosemite Falls by the Swinging Bridge picnic area, I skipped along after him to see what he'd found. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? And photographer friendships are some of the most rewarding! 

 Do you: A) Laugh and say "No way!" and find something else to do? B) Laugh and say "Challenge accepted!" and scramble on up? 

 Option B all the way. Most Difficult? I laugh in the face of Most Difficult, except when I'm at high altitudes in Peru and throwing up in the face of Most Difficult! Fortunately Smith Rock, Oregon, doesn't have that altitude problem and even though Misery Ridge is a little bit miserable on your calves to get to the top, it's so worth it. What a view! This overlook of the Crooked River from the climb up was just the beginning. 

 Now, if only I'd gotten an earlier start in the day and the sun hadn't dipped below the clouds by the time I reached the summit. And if only I'd thought to bring a flashlight for the trek back down. But it just means there'll have to be a next time. 

 It was the worst winter anyone could remember in a hundred years. Usually the snow melts off in the valley within a few days if not a single afternoon. This year, it stayed. And stayed. Every new storm just piled on top of the remnants of the old one, and as a city that never encounters these conditions, Boise and Boiseans were phenomenally unprepared. 

 It got old fast. But that one day in January we got hit the heaviest, I decided I was going to defy winter and run around in the snowstorm in a sleeveless dress with a lit candle. (Snowboots and fleece-lined leggings underneath of course.) It will be a long time before I forget sitting in a drift under that tree at dusk, watching the snowflakes float down above, listening to the flame of the candle hiss. And it will be a long time before I forget the winter that was 2017. 

 (Tech: about 11 frames stitched together a la expansion/Brenizer method, orange-gelled speedlite in a softbox at camera right hidden behind the tree. And a few extra snowflakes added in onOne Photo.) 

 Other falls in the country might be taller, or more interesting shapes, or surrounded by lush moss, or you can walk behind them, but Svartifoss just feels rugged, powerful, extreme, surreal, kind of scary. In a word: Icelandic.

 1) Is that a real place?!  2) Can I actually get there? 3) I need to photograph this! Yes and yes, and yes I did. 

 And fortunately, for whatever reason, the salt evaporation ponds of Salineras de Maras have not become one of those photographer cliches (yet) and I could photograph it to my heart's content without this mental image of what The Shot was supposed to be. 

 I have so many photos from this area (taxi driver: "You'll probably end up staying just 20 minutes there"... 2 hours later...) including a bunch from right in the mines (cool things about Peru: no one really seemed to care about a photographer traipsing around everywhere), but I think my favorite is still this pseudo-aerial view dipping into the valley. Looks like something from the Star Wars universe. Surreal. 

If you had the chance to change your fate by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: Princess Merida from Pixar's Brave will always have a place in my heart if only because of our shared wild curls. But there's something about her determination that also resonates. Her famous line from all the trailers--"If you had the chance to change your fate, would you?"--with that thick Scottish accent kept running through my head this past week, something about that passion to take on a challenge and control of your life, and suddenly I was having visions of a dark forest and glowing box full of magic light and couldn't get it out of my head. 

 The good part is, I knew exactly how I'd pull it off. (Old wooden box lined with tinfoil. Orange-gelled speedlite triggered remotely, pointed at the tinfoil to bounce the light up. Wait until dusk to tone down the ambient light. Find shadowy section of local woods. Brenizer/expansion method to make the scene feel wider but focused. Emphasized blues in post.) But oh man it sounded like so much work and I've gotten lazy. Stop throwing on dresses and plopping yourself down on a path for a while and it starts to sound way too complicated to take up again. 

Is this just fantasy? by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: What's the craziest part of this view? The insane swimming-pool-colored aquamarine waters of Peyto Lake? The jaw-droppingly huge mountain ranges looming high above? The epic storm clouds that just earlier that day were pouring rain over Lake Louise Village? That matte-painting-like valley winding away in the distance? 

 No, the craziest part was that upon taking the turnoff for Peyto Lake off the Icefields Parkway on a whim (I couldn't remember what was there, just that after years of looking at landscape photography, that name rang a bell as something cool), my sister and I took one look at the magnificent view and realized we'd been here before. We had no memory of the name of the lake or that we'd ever been north of Banff, but there it was. We'd been here on a family vacation ten years before and even had the old family pictures to prove it. 

What dreams may come by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: "What a lovely patch of tall lush grass! *flops over*" 

 What they don't tell you about super-romantic dreamy portraits in tall grass especially when you're your own model and have to reposition the tripod a couple times before you're even in frame never mind in focus is that the grass gets easily crushed and does not exactly bounce back. So better hope you have excellent lying-down skills and can squash the same blades of grass every time, or it doesn't look nearly as organic! Also, it is kind of itchy. 

 Teenage girl walking by later as I was on my way out: "What were you doing over there??!" 

Be at peace by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: In a land of jaw-dropping power in nature and daily knock-you-on-your-face winds and extremes in general, a peaceful morning is almost a shock to the system. You mean I can feel my face again? Walk normally? Not constantly use the tripod counterweight hook to prevent it flying away? Even shed a parka? 

Triple the falls, triple the fun by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: Not the most inventive composition in the book, but there's only so much you can do with Triple Falls since if I'd gone a couple steps further I would have gone off a cliff. I'm sure some intrepid souls have made their way to the bottom (intrepid photographers, even), but I'm not even sure if the view would be as good from down there without getting to see the pretty fork in the stream from the top. 

Take on the world by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: Coal Mine Canyon this January. Even by southwestern standards, this spectacle is pretty stunning. It's almost too much to take in and so difficult to fathom the massive sense of scale without being there yourself. 

 So that tiny silhouette on the red rise is me, so far away that I couldn't even hear the shutter click to know if the remote was triggering (let's hear it for reliable wireless remotes - can you imagine trying to do this with a 10-second timer run?), but taking on the world one awe-inspiring scene at a time nonetheless. Too bad the sun had decided to hide behind the clouds at that point because it flattened out the dramatic landscape a bit sadly, but maybe just as well, since those late afternoon shadows were pretty patchy. 

Curiosity by Anna Gorin Via Flickr: Street photography has never been something I've worked with much. However, when in Rome... I mean, when in Peru... 

 Amantani is one of several islands on Lake Titicaca, "the highest navigable lake in the world," in the Puno region of Peru close to the Bolivian border. Homestays with the locals are a popular tourist experience and I was one of those tourists, forsaking running water and most electricity for an authentic rural Peruvian couple days, or at least as authentic as you can get as a paying tourist. Besides feeling mildly incompetent most of the time due to my Spanish being limited to things such as "Thank you" and "Please bring the check" and my Quechua consisting entirely of "Do you have any llamas?", it was a great experience.