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January 20, 2013

Hiking the Drakensberg

After months of planning myself and four other keen hikers were finally on our way to the Cathedral Peak region of the Drakensberg. Rian, Stephen and myself were driving down from Gauteng and we were to meet up with two Durban okes, Carl and Mark in Winterton. We made the mistake of taking Oliviershoek pass, or rather what’s left of it, and we ended up with a flat run-on-flat tire. Some kind folk in Winterton were happy to take in the car and see that it gets fixed by the time we come down from the mountains 6 days later. It was already 9pm, but nothing would stand in the way of our hike and we continued to Didima camp where we checked into the mountain register and one of their staff took us to the top of Mike’s Pass with the mountain taxi.

And so our hike started at 10pm on a Tuesday night in thick and cold mist. The group comprised one full-time photographer, 3 hobbyists and one victim of our passion who was just there for the experience. The plan was to follow the jeep track to a flat clearing where we could pitch our tents for the first night. After walking for about 90 minutes and obviously not finding anything other than jeep track, mist and darkness, we decided to pitch our tents in the middle of the road. Spirits and energy levels were high; we had dinner and retreated to our tents.

Starting on a misty night

We awoke to the same thick mist and a soft rain the next morning. If Rian (our navigator) didn’t know the mountains as well as he did then we would have had no option but to stay in the tents, but we packed up and started heading uphill to get to the bottom of Organ Pipes Pass. Rian told us that two or three hours up there is a mountain hut in which we could take a proper break and have a solid warm breakfast, so we slogged up the little berg in the mist looking forward to a warm brew and oats. Worse than the physical effort of going uphill is the psychological effect that the mist and hills create in the little berg. You ascend a ridge thinking that you’ll see the Basalt cliffs in the distance, but the mist just reveals another blind ridge. Endlessly. As with the flat area the previous night, the hut was never found and by the time the mist cleared slightly we realized we were very close to the top of the escarpment. We had been hiking for 6 hours, everyone was soaked from underwear to socks and gatvol, to put it politely.

Ascending above the mist near the base of the cliffs

We had a good meal, mustered what spirit we had left and continued up behind the Organ Pipes via Tuthumi pass. It was another 2 hours from our break spot that the mist fooled us yet again on our way to the top. What we thought was the escarpment edge was the neck behind the Organ Pipes and we could see that it was at least another hour to the top. Everyone was properly exhausted, we had one member feeling slightly sick and having ascended 1200m, two of us had a headache from the altitude. We had been walking for 8 hours and the photo-opportunities to the North were amazing, so we made the call to pitch camp.

A fleeting moment of magic as the upper clouds let some light through and the mist pulled away from the escarpment

As we were putting up the tents, there was a slight moment of perfection. The mist pulled away from the escarpment and the upper clouds opened to let some light through. There were strong rain clouds sitting quite low and it felt as if we ad ascended into another world. Changing into dry clothes after 8 hours of walking was certainly welcome and buying thermal underwear for the hike was a good call. Carl and I went up onto a ridge in anticipation of the clouds giving us a break, which it did momentarily. He got one great photo of me standing on a ledge overlooking the mist and that was to be the only clearing for nearly two days.

Image by Carl Jason Smorenburg

The next morning revealed the same thick mist we had become accustomed to. While we were disappointed, we did need the rest and Rian said we could stay in our tents until it cleared. It rained most of the day and even put down a proper amount of hail. That day was spent sleeping, chatting and being optimistic about the weather. Hopes were high as night fell, but we kept a realistic mind and it was very possible to have another day in the mist.

Setting up camp in the neck behind the organ pipes

Rian woke me very early the next morning and I was expecting to open the tent door and look at the same cold mist of the past two days. Opening the door revealed a star-filled night sky and a frosty breeze. As dawn approached the skies revealed mid-level cloud that was certain to make for a good sunrise, which it did. With some great shots on everyone’s memory cards and the sun climbing in the sky, elation was in abundance. The neck of Tuthumi pass looked like a squatter camp as everyone’s whole kit was spread out on the grass and rocks to dry.

Brilliant sunrise made for a cheerful start to the day

With everything dried out and bags repacked, we set off aiming to get to the Cockade. It was a perfect day in the berg and we hadn’t walked 500 meters when the first amazing photos started presenting themselves. Just before the last ascent of Tuthumi you have Cleft peak on the left, the spires of the Organ Pipes on the right, and the cathedral spur in the distance. There was mist in the valleys and the clouds overhead cast fleeting shadows through the foreground of our images. Snap snap snap.

The view through the organ pipes

After taking too many photos, the cameras were packed away and the uphill started. Climbing a steep pass is never a pleasant experience and it isn’t made any more pleasant by a 25kg backpack. Add to that the altitude of just over 3000masl and it’s a physical experience you can compare to those school sport fitness sessions you had to endure when the coach was having a bad day. Nonetheless I had done some dieting and training prior to the hike and most importantly, I was motivated. To the rest of the guys it may have looked like I was dying, but as long as I maintained my 20 steps, 30 seconds rest pace I always got to the top.

When I finally did Rian posed for us on a ledge and we got some dramatic shots of him dwarfed by the scale of the pass descending into the mist. It was about 11am and the thunderclouds were building. Looking across the plains of Lesotho, we could see the neck behind the mighty Cleft peak that we had to go through. Conditions were lovely and we got going at a strong pace. After an hour we took a break at a stream to refuel and before we got to the bottom of the neck we had descended about 200m into Lesotho and it was time for another hellish uphill. 20 paces, 30 seconds break, 20 paces, 30 second break…and we eventually crested the neck at just under 3200m.

Rian posing just below the crest of Tuthumi pass

The wind was pumping on top, but we found a sheltered spot and took a break before heading down towards the Cockade. As we came down around the Northern side of Cleft we saw the Pyramid and Column sticking out of the mist. Upon seeing it there was just an immediate consensus that for photography’s sake we wouldn’t be carrying on to the back of the Cockade. The skies were thick with building thundercloud and below us was a carpet of mist cloud swirling up the escarpment wall in a cool mountain breeze. About 500 meters from the main escarpment wall was the pyramid and the column rising out of the mist like watch towers at earth’s edge. We hadn’t seen other people in 3 days, behind us lay the wilderness of Lesotho and the scene in front of us seemed like the frontiers of existence. That afternoon was one of my lifetime highlights.

The Pyramid and the Column rising out of the mist

After filling a memory card, we had to find a spot to pitch our tents. The wind had picked up and we were on an exposed plain, not the ideal place for a tent. We carefully selected our spots and set up camp. Tent pegs were weighed down with rocks, as were the edges of the outer sails, a small bit of extra effort that would prove vital later that night. It was about 5pm and the wind had pretty much died down. The skies were just getting better and we could hear the rumble of thunder from the hills of Lesotho. Far out from the escarpment the horizon over Natal was full of vast mushroom clouds. Most of the sunset was spent running around between compositions as the light peaked.

Last light of the day slipping in below the approaching storm

We gathered at the tents for a chat over dinner as butane flames whistled away, everyone was recalling what an amazing day it had been. The rumble was coming closer, but there was no wind and I mentioned how lucky we were with the weather, foolishly. Everyone was done eating and the first rain hit us just as we got into our sleeping bags. Softly at first with little wind, then as darkness fell the skies started lighting up and the rumble was getting louder. Within 15 minutes the soft drizzle had turned into hell, Stephen and I could barely hear each other as a torrential downpour rattled the tent sail. Gusts of wind bent the tent’s aluminum poles almost down onto our chests and the rumble had turned into a bombardment of deafening crackles. We were holding up the main pole with our arms in fear of the wind snapping it and in doing so the cold got to us very quickly. Luckily thunderstorms move quickly and we were waiting for it to let up any moment, but it was the perfect escarpment storm and it lasted…and lasted. After about two hours we decided to give up the fight and let nature do what it wants to. The storm died down somewhere between 11 and 12pm and I spent the rest of the night trying to get warm again.

Soft dawn light on the Cathedral Range

Peering out of the tent the next morning it felt like the whole storm experience was a dream. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky from Lesotho to the Eastern horizon. Breakfast was made, bags packed and plenty of jokes were going around about the storm. Rian and Mark had spent most of the night with their boots and rain gear on, ready for the tent sail to give in at any moment. We were all unharmed, rested (sort of) and it was another beautiful day in the berg. We were to make a call at the head of uMhlambonja pass. Head for Easter cave or go all the way down to one tree hill. We arrived at the pass eager for a good lunch, when Rian revealed that we had walked too far. We all took a 5 minute break, except Rian who immediately went off in search of the pass. Waving arms confirmed the correct neck and we all sat down amongst the cairns for a proper lunch before descending the never-ending pass.

The escarpment wall stretching off to the South East

The descent was done one careful step at a time, down zigzags in the grass, then over boulders. After an hour of boulders and zigzags we reached the river. We crisscrossed the stream over and over as the trail widened and narrowed from level paths to ledges along a gorge wall. At places we had to give each other a hand to climb up and down steep sections. The discomfort of the descent quickly trumped the beauty of the uMhlambonja valley and about 5 hours after starting we reached the bottom of the contour path. We had a wash and a snack, and we started the last section, our destination was a 30-minute walk at a soft incline away. Backs aching, we crested the hill only to see that one tree hill was at least another hour away along a deep cutback. Next to us was a large flat hilltop with soft grass and there was no deliberation about what to do. Backpacks were thrown off to huge sighs of relief after just over 10 hours of walking.

After 10 hours of walking the faces convey a deceitful message!

We were back down at a comfortable altitude; the air was warm and the breathing easy. The whole of the escarpment stretched out in front of us, we had the cathedral spur at the back and the previous night’s rains were still coming down every valley in dramatic waterfalls. For the first time on the hike we didn’t have to flee for the cover of a tent after having a meal. We made dinner one last time, reminisced about the storm and laughed at Mark who still had enough food to last a month in the mountains. The next morning was a pleasant 3 hour walk down to the hotel, but the prospect of taking the backpacks off for good set a motivated pace!

The pyramid and column below stormy skies

The car’s tire was fixed, we parted ways with the Durbanites and we headed back up to Gauteng relieved to be returning to our modern comforts. Make no mistake that hearts were heavy as Monday waited on us all and we wouldn’t be back in such nature for months. In the days after the hike it really hit me that despite all the physical hardship and horrible weather it was still one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It’s the effort that you put in to experience it that makes you appreciate it. It’s effort that the absolute minority of people, even nature lovers are prepared to invest. It is thus an appreciation of nature that few people share, but it is certainly the most amazing one that I have shared.  Of all the places I’ve seen and experienced in my search for the ultimate photos, hiking the Drakensberg takes the prize by a long haul. Hiking may not be for everyone, but getting atop the Drakensberg is something every South African has to do at least once in his or her life

Filed under: News — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 1:06 pm

April 29, 2012

Namibia Workshop 2013

Bookings for the 2013 Namibia workshop are now open. There is a slight, but very nice change from the last two years. We’re adding the spectacular Fish River Canyon lodge to the list of destinations, lengthening the workshop by 1 more night to 8 nights.

The workshop will kick off with 3 nights in the Namib Rand on the 16th of March. After that we’ll head South to the Fish River Canyon for 2 nights and then finish off with 3 nights at Sossusvlei.

 

Dates: 16-24 March 2013

Cost: R24950.00 pp sharing

Single Supplement: R3200.00

 

To book or enquire about more info, simply send me a mail at hougaard@hougaardmalan.com or call me on 0762792202

 

Close outside the Sossusvlei Lodge

Fish River Canyon

The Namib Rand

Deadvlei

Filed under: News — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 8:42 pm

April 18, 2012

Water in Deadvlei

Most visitors to Deadvlei have probably noticed that there’s the odd set of footprints going around the pan. If you’ve walked around the place barefoot for two hours then you’ll know how hard that surface is, so where do the footprints come from? Deadvlei needs a substantial amount of water for that surface to turn to clay so that someone will leave noticeable prints. It is a pretty common occurrence to have water in Sossusvlei in the rainy season because it gets flooded by the Tsaucheb river, which gets fed from a major mountain range catchment area. Deadvlei however, is deadvlei because it was cut off from Sossus by a dune hundreds of years ago and that made the trees die. So for any water to end up in Deadvlei, it has to fall directly above it. If you consider how many tourists go there a year and how few footprints there are, then you’ll realise how little people have seen this natural spectacle, let alone photographed it.

Images and story by Dom Wills – Check out his Deviantart page to see more.

 

“After an early evening of looking at some stars at the campsite at Sesriem, I was a bit shocked to be awoken a few hours later by thunder and rain. Being in the Namib Desert, I thought it would be temporary storm and move on. I was wrong. It rained solidly for 2 days.

I took periodic trips to Deadvlei to see how much, if any, water was landing on the pan. On the second morning, I was one of the first to the 4×2 parking lot and the road to deadvlei was flooded. Other cars had parked and were waiting for guides to help them get through. I knew that the river was going to come down in flood at any time, so I lowered tyre pressures and pressed on.

I though there would be the odd puddle at deadvlei at the most, but as I walked over the dune, I was delighted to see there was loads of water pooled up in large puddles all over the vlei. Given the river flooding situation, I gave myself an hour before heading back. What a glorious solo hour in this iconic landscape.

When I got back to the 4×2 parking lot, the rangers had blocked access to the vlei – suppose timing is everything and sometimes early mornings do pay off.”

The Day Before. Dramatic sandlip kicked up by the impending storm...

 

Wind being blown across the pan the day before

At this point one starts getting to the nice trees in the pan

Dom said that instead of running around and trying to get a shot of all the trees, he focused on getting one or two good shots.

My favorite shot from his series

Filed under: Featured — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 9:33 am

April 9, 2012

After the Rain: Preview of Namibia 2012

Going into Namibia this year, I knew not to expect a repeat of last year’s amazing rain and skies. It was a freak year in which most of the country got three to four times its annual rainfall. Each day ended with near black thunderstorm skies turning to flaming reds and giving way to endless displays of lightning. The photographic opportunities were indescribable and over a total of about 3 weeks spent there on two trips I got some of my best work yet. I knew I had been spoiled and that I needed to tone down my expectations, but some small hope in me obviously wished for those dark skies again.

Spitzkoppe under a stormy afternoon sky

My first destination was the famous Spitzkoppe mountains, a spine of granite mountain peaks protruding from a plateau like a set of jagged teeth. It’s one of the most iconic landscapes in Namibia and I had 6 nights to try and do it some photographic justice. The weather forecast looked good: rain showers most afternoons. After arriving and setting up camp I spent the most of the first day just exploring the location for potential compositions. Photos of Spitzkoppe are very common in all tourism related media of Namibia and I thought I had seen most angles of the place. Upon some exploration I was surprised at the vast amount of possible foregrounds and compositions dotted around the main mountains. Iconic arch apart, there were so many rock pools, rock patterns, grass fields, trees, boulders etc. that I was very confused about where to start.

Interesting play of light and shadow created as the last sunlight fades from the lower part of the arch

I decided to kick off with the iconic arch shots, and then move on to something more unique. After 4 days I had gotten a satisfying amount of material of the location and while I never got a proper storm at sunset, I certainly couldn’t complain about the light I had. For a first visit to the place I was very happy and I decided to head to the coast for a well-deserved break from climbing up and down granite ‘hills’. I had four days to kill before the C4 workshop kicked off in the Rand and I thought I’d make a decision on where to go over a cold drink and the sound of the waves in Henties Bay. While there I made the decision that while I don’t really want typical photos of Sossus- and Deadvlei, for business reasons it was a necessity in my portfolio.

Cliche Deadvlei

I spent three days at Sesriem, but I still don’t have any stories of revelation or inspiration about the place. I had one good sunset and one good sunrise so I got the shots I wanted. I already knew all the typical wide angle compositions at Deadvlei so it was simply a matter of moving the tripod around and getting the shots. The one morning we arrived to find a British group of about 15 photographers already shooting. ‘We’ were another 4, and as the sun climbed I think about another 10 arrived. There were more tripods than trees and it was impossible to get a shot without someone in it. Luckily the skies were cloudless so I had a nap on the side of the pan while the masses bustled about in each other’s compositions. It’s a place that still fails to touch me, or maybe I fail to connect with it??

The mist cleared for a few minutes, allowing soft light through slatted ceilings

 

The next 7 days followed with the C4 workshop of which 4 days were on the farm Excelsior in the Namib Rand and 3 days were at Sossusvlei. The weather was good and we had very flexible hours at Sossusvlei which allowed our clients to get some great photos. The strenuous hours and long walks were a bit of a shock to some of the clients, but they quickly adapted to the desert! We had a good rest on the last morning and spent the last night well into darkness shooting stars in deadvlei. The group tried a few static milky way shots with light painted trees and ended things with a 32 minute star trail exposure that came out brilliant. I ached to get the night sky photos myself, but I’ll return at a later stage to attempt something unique.

Ghost rain lights up in flaming sunset light

After the workshop, I and a client traveled on to the ghost town of Kolmanskop, a location that was a complete block to me last year. It was a bucket list location for Jill and I think her ambition to get great shots influenced me to give it another proper try after failing so miserably last year. I studied a few images of Kolmanskop in the run-up to my trip and learnt quite a few things from them. Armed with this new knowledge, me and Jill were psyched to shoot the iconic ghost town. On both mornings conditions were very misty which not only cast beautiful soft light into the buildings, but kept things pleasantly cool. Without really noticing it, we shot nonstop for 5 hours on the first morning and the second morning went similar. After those two days we were both very satisfied with our results and it was time to carry on to Fish River Canyon.

Rain falls over the Nubib mountains beyond the plains of Dina

The Fish River Lodge is definitely my favorite lodge in Namibia. Everything from the location to the service to the architecture is astounding and I often end up just relaxing more than shooting. As with the rest of the trip, the weather wasn’t amazing, but it certainly wasn’t bad. I got some new photos to go home with. The potential of the place is however much greater than I’ve ever seen in any photo, but you need a pretty rare synchronization of weather elements to get killer light over the canyon at the right time.

15 degree winter weather at Luderitz was a welcome relief from 40+ degree days at Sossusvlei

It was a successful three weeks, but I’d be lying if I said it was as special as last year. Most places were definitely easier to shoot after having been there before, but then they were also less exciting. I can’t wait to get back next year and experience the place again. The magic of Namibia never fails to refresh the mind and satisfy one’s craving for excellent photography. Even when I say that it wasn’t as special, you can see from the photos that it was still an absolute feast of top class photographic opportunities…and this is about 1/5th of the work I’ve deemed worthy of being processed to go into my portfolio.

Excelsior's chocolate mountain below a dramatic afternoon sky

2013 workshops

Bookings will open in the coming weeks and there will be a slight variation on last year. The one workshop will be 4 days Namib Rand, 2 days Fish River Canyon, 2 days Sossusvlei and on the other date Fish River Canyon will be substituted for Kolmanskop/Luderitz. Both will be in March next year and the price will be roughly R20000-R25000 ($3000-$4000) with about 15 places available between the two. Watch this space!

 

Beautiful side lighting from a window brings out the ripples in the sand

Photograph Namibia Guides

 

These have both been removed from my blog. I am in the process of turning them into e-books which will be much more content rich and precise and available for purchase at a small price.

 

Afternoon sunlight on the Fish River Canyon

 

 

 

Filed under: Travel Blog — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 5:23 pm

November 1, 2011

2 for 1 Print Sale

For the next 3 weeks, until the 25th of November you can buy any two prints for the price of one.

Simply purchase your print of choice using the print order system in the gallery. Once you go to the cart you will see a ‘comment’ field at the bottom of the page. Just add the gallery and image title of your 2nd print choice and I will confirm with you via email that it is the correct image. Please read the prints page section for information on the paper options and order process!

My recommendations for prints

Deadvlei, Namibia

Amphitheatre in Mist, Drakensberg

Cold Front Blues, Kogelbay

Kokerboom Kloof, Richtersveld

Hole in the Wall, Wild Coast

Blyde River Canyon

Quiver Trees of Namibia

Filed under: News — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 7:27 pm

October 12, 2011

HDR Luminosity Mythbusters

Many people are under the impression that if you invert the basic lights selection it gives you the basic darks selection. They use this as a shortcut instead of inverting the image to get the basic darks selection. Let me disprove this theory with two very simple examples :)

In the 1st image is the selection path you get from inverting the basic lights selection. The 2nd image shows the selection path you get if you created basic darks using an inverted layer, as you should. Do they look the same?

Inverse of basic lights

Basic Darks

 

If I make a layer of each of those selections and get rid of the original image so that it consists of only the pixels in either selection, you get the two results below. The first one is again the inverse of basic lights and you can see that it contains more midtones. The 2nd image is of conventionally obtained basic darks and clearly has less midtones.

Inverse of basic lights

 

Basic Darks

 

Myth Busted???

Filed under: Tutorials — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 12:17 pm

July 26, 2011

New Site and Blog coming soon…

I think I owe all of my subscribers an apology for an absence of updates on my blog. The year got off to a very hectic start of travels, shooting and workshops, but things have calmed down now. I was of course shooting in that time and I have a ton of new images that will be released along with a completely redone website and blog on the 1st of October this year. The major problem I have with my current blog is the archiving and path system is difficult to navigate…this will be fixed.

I’m also working on a series of new articles for my blog that will help subscribers with all aspects of landscape photography. These will be accompanied by smaller ‘weekly tip’ articles with useful photoshop tricks and downloadable actions. The new blog and site is sure to blow you away, but until the 1st of October this is all I’ll be showing :)


Filed under: Travel Blog — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 11:19 am

January 13, 2011

Horse-Riding Sheep

My photography evolved and progressed from the opinion of viewers on the internet. Every single day I still have to try and analyze what viewers like in order to keep up with trends and satisfy the supporters that keep me progressing. It’s simply a case of produce-check response-interpret-apply. I’ve always had two major benchmarks for my photos, the one being the Deviantart community and the other the Outdoorphoto community.

Deviantart does have a few very good opinions, but the majority of the people there don’t know anything about photography. They like visual impact and that’s the a-z of their opinion on a photo. If DA likes something, then I know it will grab attention. Outdoorphoto has a similar crowd, but because it’s exclusively a photographic community the level of opinions and knowledge are a bit higher. There are still the ‘WOWers’ who just judge something on the immediate visual impact, but there are also the people who try to analyze all the elements of design and give well thought-through feedback. If ODP likes it, then I know it’s a good photo on more than just an immediate-visual-impact level. Sometimes I have photos that I think they will love…but then it  slips by unnoticed and simply disappears into the depths of their web-servers without much of a view or a favorite. Then I swallow my pride and liking of that image and also just allow it to disappear into my hard drives.

Such was the case with my trip to the Richtersveld in June of 2010. I flew to Pretoria where myself and Shem Compion hit the road for a 2 day drive to Quiver Tree Valley. I had only met him briefly once before and didn’t really know him, but on that road we were talking our hearts out about people’s ideas and perception of digital photography. How their photos are simply an attempt to master a cliche collection of images…like a collection of coins or stamps. The digital era created an immense flock of sheep that are all trying to imitate the ‘best’ guys. It’s no longer about capturing the emotion of a place or animal, but merely about who can get the technically-best bee eater or Kogelbay shot. He told me of a man named (I know nothing of avian photography) Eric Hosking, who had been capturing rare birds in flight with plate cameras since the 1930′s…then you’ve got to ask yourself: What the F do you think you’ve accomplished by capturing a bird in flight with the technology and easily accessible wildlife reserves of today? Get off your high horse that you call ego and go do something different, you horse-riding sheep. Same goes for landscape photography and in that moment I felt like one of the sheep we were discussing.

We got to the Richtersveld and I was inspired to do something different and break away from the internet crowds. I wanted to get one shot that translated the feeling of the place. Heat. Desolation. Beauty. Survival. Not something that just relied on blazing color, an ultra wide view or a dynamic composition to captivate the viewer, but something which really communicated the location to the viewer. Thanks to Mark Dumbleton I knew of an extraordinarily photogenic little Witgat tree atop a granite boulder. Mark had already gotten the nice composition to the North East and I obviously didn’t want ‘my shot’ of Quiver Tree Valley to be the same. After about 200 shots of that little tree throughout 2 sunrises and a sunset I had my shot that I thought would blow people away and make them experience the barren beauty of the Richtersveld.

I got home, gave it some contrast, some Marc Adamus style diffusion ‘glow’ and posted it to my benchmark communities. In my own confidence of it being a fantastic image I also sent it in for a few monthly magazine competitions. On outdoorphoto it got 6 comments which is pathetic. On Deviantart it got 473 favorites which is also pathetic. I wrote it off, confused and frustrated. I thought that with the inspiration from Shem I was getting to the next plateau in my photography where my images carried more of a message than just impact created by a wide angle lens and a red sunset, but my benchmarks had rejected it.

Then two months later I got a mail from the Getaway magazine saying that my image got into their monthly gallery and I thought cool, but coincidence. They often put some god-awful images in the monthly gallery. Another month later Country Life magazine mailed and said that my image was second in their monthly gallery…and I started regaining a bit of respect for that image that I had so much hope for upon returning from the Richtersveld. Over December it was purchased by 3 calendars publishers for 2012, more than any other image of mine. Two days ago the Weg/Go magazine had selected it for their ‘Africa at it’s Best’ back page in the magazine and I didn’t even enter it or send it to them at any point!

That same image that my benchmarks had shot down has now been published in 3 magazines and 3 calendars and thanks to all of that I’m now a little more confident in breaking away from the opinions of the masses and doing what MY opinion tells me. When you start taking photos to please other people you stagnate and smother the artist in you. It’s good to respect those opinions and use them, but don’t let them become your photography. As with everything in life, balance is the key :)

Learn from the internet masses, but remember that then your photography can only get as good as the sources from which you learned and at some point you’ll have to muster up some innovation. Are you one of those horse-riding sheep with a shiny collection of coins? If so, then does your website have a tagline that goes something like ‘highly regarded award winning photographer’? If you answered yes to both those questions then you need to reconsider your own perception of your photography because you’re photography is nothing but an attempted imitation of someone else’s. The sad truth is that those sheep will answer no to both questions and their horse will just grow.

Thanks Shem for some much needed inspiration on that trip.

Quiver Tree Valley

Filed under: Travel Blog — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 10:00 pm

January 10, 2011

Namibian Bodyscapes by Willem Oets

The results of a talented photographer travelling to some of his favorite spots in the Namib with a beautiful model. Very inspirational photography

To see more of Willem’s work visit his website

Filed under: Featured — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — Hougaard Malan @ 3:27 pm

January 3, 2011

Dwesa: Wild Coast Bliss

At the end of a long year there’s nothing one looks forward to more than the short time in which you are liberated from all the constraints of materialistic and financial pursuit we call our lives. At the end of 2008 we (the family) spent this time at the mouth of the Msikaba river in Pondoland, the last frontier of South Africa’s wild coast which is still unscathed by human ‘progress and development’. It is a place of amazing untouched beauty…the locals still live off the land and thus there is no pollution or dilapidated infrastructure from the apartheid era . The only European buildings are the small houses that belong to the descendants of traders who got land leases from the Xhosa chief many decades ago and still use it for holiday purposes. There are holiday camps at each major river mouth and the one at the mouth of the Msikaba river consists of tented chalets nestled in the looming shadows of yellowwood forests that crawl out on to the pristine white beaches where the Msikaba gorge makes it departure into the Indian Ocean. Apart from six days of sunny blue weather and elation in untouched nature, it was also the last December holiday we had the privilege of sharing with my mother before she passed away of cancer eleven months later. All these factors anchored the wild coast deep within me as a person and that brings me to the actual topic of this article.

The hills around the Msikaba mouth

Half way through 2010 my dad mentioned that we should hit the wild coast again and I was in ecstasy at the thought of getting back to the forests and beaches of Pondoland, but it was not to be. On 17 December we were cruising down from family in the Eastern Cape highlands towards the Dwesa Nature Reserve, one of the oldest reserves on the Wild Coast. I had done the online research and the results looked okay but certainly not promising. There is wildlife, which meant limited access and the landscape wasn’t very dramatic, just minor hills that descend to the beaches. After a classic 2 hour’s driving on a mere 48km of road (wild coast roads!!!) we arrived at the camp and my fears were confirmed. No major hills, just a slow flowing river surrounded by a beach, encircled by some rock shelves and forests. We set up camp and were welcomed by an army of insects, not exactly a heart-warming prospect. With the tents pitched and chairs unfolded, sunset was approaching and I had a cold one before taking the short stroll to the beach. I just needed to go check what I could make do with around the river mouth in case I got some weather that would make it worth my while to go shoot.

After about 500m from camp the small dirt foot-path to the beach branched from the main road beside a curve in the river, snaked through the grass, crossed a small wooden bridge and then cut through a small forest which seemed like it might be worth something in nice light. The path descended steeply down to the sand and I could still feel the late afternoon sun burning my already-burnt neck. I continued the 200-300m to the water line, stared out to the ocean, saw nothing and decided that my time would be better spent enjoying another cold brandy and coke back at the tent. I turned around and it took about a second for my eyes to adjust to the sun. As burnt out white slowly faded back into detail I saw a scene I had fantasized about so many times before (Unfortunately it wasn’t the one about a beach full of naked women). The forest stood about 5m up on a sand ridge, beautiful old milkwood trees rising from a green carpet of undergrowth with trunks of every shape and size. With the late afternoon sun right behind it and some spray in the air from the surf it looked like light pouring into an ancient cathedral of flora. The golden beams of sun light cut through the gaps in the canopy and seemed to snake around the branches in an explosion of warm light.

Flora Cathedral

I estimated that I had about 30 minutes before the sun would dip behind the dune ridge and my opportunity would be over. With a new skip in my step I headed towards the trees, walked through the narrow forest tunnel for about 100m and decided on the best bunch of trees. Thirty minutes later as the sun crested the inclined forest floor, the last rays retreated from the cathedral and I strolled back onto the beach. Sunset was still about an hour away, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and I was confidently thirsty. After another few cold ones and a filling campfire dinner, I was in my tent falling asleep to the symphony of thriving nature and the satisfaction of having filled a hole in my photography portfolio.

Flora Cathedral

I awoke the next morning to the demonic sound of my blackberry’s alarm clock, still fast asleep and tired from the previous day’s long drive. I sat up, opened the tent’s door and peering  towards the sea through the branches of a wild fig I saw mushrooming cumulonimbus clouds with a pink pre-dawn glow. All of a sudden I was wide awake. In true wild coast style I required no more dressing than some shorts and a t-shirt and I was off to the river mouth. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to shoot, I just knew there was some rock shelves to the left of the mouth that I could work with. What I stumbled upon was absolutely awe-inspiring. Stretching out for some 500 meters lay what looked like an ancient Venetian piazza of black marble tiles carved by some godly mason. As if some tiles had been stolen, there were shallow depressions of every shape and size strewn about and every single corner on every rock is a perfect 90 degrees. Some were filled with water and looked like water ponds or baths set in the rock. Here or there were a ‘stolen tile’ lying on the floor and where the surf had broken away at the rock shelf it looked like a series of marble cascades in some modern water feature. It felt like I was walking on the streets of a civilization long lost to the waters of the Indian Ocean.

The unique rock formations

The mushrooming clouds I had seen were quite far off shore and as the sun rose they were still too small in an 18mm frame to make use of. They kept getting closer and in the hour after the sun had climbed above the horizon I got a few cool shots with the big stopper.

Some super ND magic

After some morning rain enjoyed below a gazebo with coffee and caramel rusks, the clouds made their way inland and the sun welcomed a perfect day that I spent on the beach with my cousins. Later that afternoon I set out about 2 hours before sunset to get a decent scope of the piazza. As with all such amazing places I was faced with that same problem… There’s so much to shoot that you just stand around looking in circles, completely undecided on what to put in your viewfinder. There was a decent cover of cirrus clouds with a caravan of billowing mushrooms just visible on the horizon. I managed a few good compositions and as the sun dipped the skies lit up in deep flaming oranges and reds.

Flaming Cirrus skies

The last pink on the clouds

Over the following few days I got to know the rocks better and somehow the light also seemed to improve every day. On the 3rd night the sky was alive with lightning that mellowed out towards the morning. Walking out onto the piazza at 3:45am on the morning of summer solstice I could see that the storm front didn’t reach far out to sea and there was a gap where the sun should rise = the ingredients for a flaming red dawn. The adrenaline started pumping as it got lighter and the first beam of intense pink light hit the bottom of the clouds, crawled higher and higher and then disappeared…and that was to be the best moment from what I thought would be a 10/10 sunrise. Nevertheless the skies were dark and moody and I got some good shots against a slight orange backlighting.

The sunrise that never reached it's full potential

The skies grew dark and moody as the sun climbed

The last night delivered a rare type of light that I had seen in other artist’s work, but never with my own eyes. Partial low cloud cover topped by partial high cloud cover which all converges towards the highlight of the sun. You can see the result below. It would have been perfect if I could have moved just slightly more to the left, but then I would have been swimming!

That magical combination of high and low clouds

As my memory cards filled up and my batteries drained I relaxed a bit with the shooting as I was after all on holiday. Looking back 4 weeks earlier when I was at Hole in the Wall which is just 80km to the north where I had 5 days of utterly horrible weather, my luck had somehow seemed to turn for the better. Despite similar rainy forecasts the skies at Dwesa were blue every single day and after 6 such days Dwesa had turned out to be just as enjoyable as the Msikaba river 2 years earlier. I was there exactly around summer solstice so the mornings were painfully early, but humid nights made it easier to get out of a tent. So if you can forget about the insects, humidity, Transkei roads and unpredictable weather then you’re in for a splendid time…whether you’re just going to sit around the fire and unwind with a cold one or if you’re going with batteries charged and memory cards formatted. As any outdoorsman knows, getting out there and roughing it makes one appreciate the luxuries that we are accustomed to. I think that in the same way, that absence of nature in our modern lives makes us appreciate the beauty out there more. The last bit left to appreciate which we haven’t desecrated through our ‘progress and development’.

Christmas eve rainbow at Jeffreys Bay

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