Rapid Descents: Lessons Learned

August-September 2002

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
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by Steve Crow

Steve will do almost anything for a great photo. Photo by Jim Hnatiak

I love paddling and I love photography. And I love taking photos of paddlers. Therefore, you would think that it would be a simple matter to write an article about paddling photography.

Far from it. I'm not a professional photographer, so I can't give any technical advice. I'm not even a particularly knowledgeable amateur, so I can't discuss apertures and focal points with any authority (although I can say with authority that both affect your shot!). I have only had limited use with one manual SLR, one automatic SLR, one digital, and half a dozen point and- shoots, so I can't regale you with vivid comparisons of brands, features and capacities. But I have taken lots of photos. So I'm not without experience.

Perhaps the best thing I can do here is randomly throw out some crumbs from the meager sandwich of photographic wisdom I have constructed. I'm sure you have heard some of the following advice and suggestions a number of times; this isn't revolutionary counsel. But I think it's worth repeating. Much of it applies to all kinds of photography, not just paddling.

Capturing images onto a roll of film is much easier and more successful with prior knowledge of how the particular camera you are using works, of course. But a friend and I had to take a road trip down Baja to learn this lesson. We shared Jim's camera, a manual/automatic SLR about which we knew next to nothing. With it we captured the stark, burnt desert and our play on its vertical rock and in its surrounding sea. I don't know about Jim, but I took some really nice shots: good composition, good contrast, good lines. This was how I saw them anyway, through my mind's shutter. Unfortunately that was as far along the development process as they got. I no longer remember what went wrong - some dohicky was engaged or the thingamabob wasn't - but half of our rolls were returned to us blank.

An unpleasant consequence of capturing images onto film is that we come to rely on them for our memories. By concentrating on what we see through the lens, we don't remember what we are actually looking at. We depend on the photos we pick up at the end of a trip to recall ourexperiences. When those photos all look like the tabula rasa of a Skinnerian infant's mind, the effect can be devastating. The lesson we learned? Learn. Have a subject. Find something - be it a person, a stream, a bright colour - that draws the viewer's eye, and compose your photo around it. This doesn't mean you should always put the subject in the middle of the frame. Move your camera around the subject and explore the different possibilities. If you have a digital camera or you have the means to pay for a lot of film and developing, take plenty of photos from various angles and with various compositions. If your cash supply necessitates selective shutter action, then at least look through the lens at your many options. Choose the one that makes you say, "hey," or even "hmm."

One way for the cash-strapped to justify taking more than one photo of the same thing is to change the subject. Jim and I purposefully took shots of each other going over this waterfall vertically and horizontally, respectively, so that we could compare the composition. While I'd like to say my shot is better, upon development it was clear that the vertical one Jim took is the more appealing. The natural top-down lie of the land, the fall of the water and the drop of the kayak all beg to be framed vertically.

Create what I call friends' albums. These are designed to keep friends. Many people, in their understandable zeal to show photos from a wonderful trip to their friends, torture said friends with endless displays from massive tomes. These ordeals are all the more painful when the photographer has neglected to include subjects in the photos. Friends' albums are small and nonthreatening, containing about twenty to thirty of the best photos of recent trips. These are always appreciated and the photographer receives the "oohs" and "ahhs" he or she relishes without the groans and moans he or she would otherwise have to endure (or blissfully ignore). Never show a friendyou care to keep all your photos unless asked to. And even if you are asked to, you should ask in return, "are you sure?" just in case they are only being polite.

Too misty for surfing, but great weather for photography? Photo by Monica De

Speaking of photo albums, I made it a duty a couple of winters ago to put all my loose photos and negatives into some sort of order. I have never been a particularly organized person, as was made evident by the nine years worth of photographic flotsam strewn about in boxes. So this was a big chore. But it was a chore I am very glad I took on. If you haven't done so, and you like your photos, I highly recommend it. Not only did I get some empty boxes out of the deal, but I now have a photographic reference library of my experiences. I also took a long journey back into my past. Each image for which I tried to determine a place triggered a memory and helped thread a sense of continuity. I ended up filling about seven photo albums. And I found nearly all the negatives! To keep them readily available, I duct-taped a photo shop envelope onto the inside back cover of each albumand put the appropriate negatives inside.

Some of the best photos on a paddling trip are the ones taken off the water. The shot above was taken at the end of a weekend of kayak surfing at Long Beach on Vancouver Island. The four of us had walked blindly to the water's edge to see if the surf made it worth staying for one more day (although the fourth, Kali, was really more interested in just sniffing around). But the mist had reduced visibility to vague impressionism. And the sea sounded too gentle anyway. Monica saw us emerge from the vapour as we were walking back to the car. She grabbed her point-and-shoot camera and ran to get this. Even when the paddling is no good, the photoops can be great.

Finally, if you are thinking of buying a waterproof APS (Advanced Photo System) camera, be aware that what you are getting in convenience, you are losing in resolution. That's what I got and lost when I bought one for the express purpose of capturing whitewater kayaking images. Sure, the camera was simple to load and use, but after I developed the first roll I told myself I would never buy one again. The images were decent enough to show to my friends, but when enlarged they became too blurry. But I kept using it, cursing my cheap ass for not replacing it after each disappointing trip to the photo shop counter to pick up my less-than-sharp photos. Luckily, after the seventh roll someone stole the camera and I haven't cursed it since. Mind you, I no longer have a waterproof camera.

© Steve Crowe is the co-author of 'Whitewater In BC's Southwest: A Guide to Accessible Runs for Beginner to Advanced Kayakers'. He's our newest columnist.