Sometimes some scenes are just too large to fit into one frame of the camera. We see an amazing spectacle of nature’s display and immediately think ‘panorama.’ Upon bringing it back into the computer however, it doesn’t always look quite as nice as we thought it would. The issue with panoramas often times is that some photographers simply don’t want to crop down to what will actually make a better composition. I know if I’ve taken the time to manually stitch together a bunch of photos, the last thing I want to do is cut some of that work out. Doing so, however, will many times yield much more aesthetically pleasing results, such as in this example.

After my failed attempt at backpacking up to Delta Lake, I drove out to Antelope Flats to try and catch what I predicted to be an extraordinary sunset. Fortunately, I was right and shortly thereafter the clouds began lighting up over the landscape while also creating rainbows stretching out from the foothills of the Gros Ventre Mountains. I had taken three landscape-oriented shots to fit in the double rainbow that I was so pleasantly surprised to see, but in bringing them back into the computer, the full image just didn’t have anything unifying throughout the scene to make the composition all that interesting. Much of the right side just felt flat and dull and was distracting from the overall intensity I was looking for. In cropping it down to just one rainbow, the drama and power I was looking for in the original image was right there.

If you have some panoramas that just aren’t popping like you had hoped, begin playing around with different ways to crop them in. That alone can make an enormous difference in whether or not people respond to a particular panoramic photo.

One thing I’ve learned in the constant shooting with two different lenses, one being a 17-40mm and the other a 70-300mm, is not to let a shot get by. It can be easy to make up excuses, especially when you specifically have a wide angle on. However it would be much better to risk a little dirt that can always be cleaned off rather than missing a shot, such as this one.

In this example, I was out at sunrise near the summer solstice, which meant that I was up extra early specifically getting wildflowers on the floor of Jackson Hole. I was in Antelope Flats in Grand Teton National Park shooting all the balsamroot wildflowers with my wide angle as the sun came up. Upon seeing the first light of the day hit the Grand Teton and surrounding peaks I immediately saw a panorama that would only be possible with my telephoto lens on. That’s when I had to make a decision. Do I change lenses and potentially get some dirt on my sensor, or do I take the easy way out and make up excuses about the light changing too fast, not wanting dust in my camera or any other plethora of similar thoughts that can flood your mind in a crucial moment like that. Obviously, my instincts were telling me to change lenses, so I went with it and happily came away with this shot.

The next time you find yourself getting the itch to switch lenses in the middle of a beautiful moment, go with it. In addition to getting a shot you think you see, you’ll also stretch your creative mind a little farther by looking through the scene with a new focal length.

As mentioned in the previous post, I was up the other day for sunrise at a nice spot I had all to myself on the Triangle X Ranch in Grand Teton National Park. I was set up just in time to see my first, true alpenglow hitting the Grand Teton and the clouds above it, as captured in this panorama.

Many people mistakenly assume that alpenglow is simply the pink light in the first or last light of the day hitting the highest peaks. It’s actually a bit more of a relatively rare phenomenom. True alpenglow is when the first or last light of the day is actually reflecting off of clouds and onto the highest peaks so that they’re lit in a pink-ish/purple glow by completely indirect light.

So now that you know what alpenglow really is, are there any spots that you remember seeing it where it stuck out?

It’s sometimes nice to have slower days when I don’t see a whole lot that I want to get a picture of. That gives me a chance to go back to some of my photos from earlier in the year that I forgot to process such as this one. This was heading back home from Kelly, Wyoming in Grand Teton National Park when all of a sudden, on the other side of the Teton Mountains, the setting sun lit up the clouds above. I happened to be near a patch of fog that was floating above the Gros Ventre River and was able to include that nicely in the shot.

One of the many things about Grand Teton National Park that never gets old is seeing the sunrise on the Teton Mountains. Thousands of people drive through the park all the time and never get to witness something as incredible as seeing the first bit of light of the day slowly creep down the mountains and onto the valley floor. If you’re ever in the area, make it a point to see the sunrise. You won’t be disappointed no matter how early it is.

I’ve been pretty busy lately with not much free time so I had to dig back in the archives for this one. One thing I miss about Arizona is hiking in the desert. For eight months of the year the entire region has perfect conditions for hiking and with an average of 300 sunny days a year, you can bet the weather will be good. Some days the weather can turn what some might call ‘nasty’, but on the contrary, I say it just adds drama. Plus when you’re going hiking with a group of people, most are still set on going. Picacho Peak in Picacho Peak State Park is one of my favorite hikes around Phoenix, Arizona. It’s located between Phoenix and Tucson and shoots out of the ground along I-10. It’s a very difficult and challenging hike, however I personally loved hikes like that which is why it remains one of my favorites to this day. Plus the view from the top gives you a full 360 degree view of the surrounding desert.

It seems like every time I look at the Gros Ventre Mountain foothills they look completely different. I’ve been making frequent trips up toward Kelly, Wyoming in Grand Teton National Park and now that I have a down jacket, I’ve been comfortable staying out later as the temperature drops. Sunset yesterday provided quite a show and while I would’ve been happy with just one shot, I saw a scene that couldn’t just be contained in one shot, so here’s a panorama of all the glory when I looked back at the Gros Ventre Mountains.

I’m trying to move away from the plethora of images from those two days of fog we had, however I keep picking one out that I wind up really liking, such as this one. There’s almost always something to see on the way out to Kelly, Wyoming, especially when you get in between the Gros Ventre River and Blacktail Butte in Grand Teton National Park. Whether it’s a migrating herd of wildlife, a moose or just the landscape itself, Blacktail Butte always makes for a great landscape from any angle. At this point some of the fog was beginning to lift but there was still a bit hanging around the base of the butte.

Foggy and frozen days make for some great landscapes around Jackson Hole, Wyoming. If you’re lucky enough to find some wildlife, however, it adds a whole other dimension and depth to the photo. As I was driving into town on the first of two consecutive foggy days we had recently, I saw a small herd of bull elk acting up a bit. By the time I pulled over and got my camera out, they began running for no apparent reason other than to give me something interesting to shoot. They literally only ran about 100-200 yards, but it made for some great shots!

In addition, I had been wanting to go back to some of my photos and see if any would make some good black and white prints. For some reason I tested this one out and while it’s not one I would normally give the black and white treatment, something seemed to work on it. Perhaps it took some of the focus from the sagebrush in the foreground and solidified the action onto the elk. Either way, I’m happy with it.

I’m continually amazed at the effects the weather has on the landscapes here; creating both diverse and unending diversity in an otherwise stagnant scene. In any landscape in any part of the world, a little crack of light coming through the clouds creates a great deal of drama for what’s typically an average scene. There’s a small ridge you crest as you drive out to Kelly, Wyoming as you begin driving along the southern end of Antelope Flats in Grand Teton National Park. Upon driving over that small ridge, I looked ahead to the Gros Ventre Mountains to the east and saw that they were the only part of an incredibly vast landscape lit up. I immediately pulled off the road to get this shot.