'Action' landscape photography at Punakaiki

We are slowly coming out of Lockdown here in New Zealand. Auckland is still at complete level 4 Lockdown, but the rest of the country has moved to 'Delta' level 2. At level 2, you can start to travel a little further afield, and businesses can re-open (while still maintain strict social distancing and mask-wearing). I'm still working from home, and probably will be for at least another two weeks. The weather has also been rotten this week - wind, rain, thunder and lightning - the works. My wife and I have got a touch of cabin fever.

So when we discovered that Saturday looked promising weather-wise, we decided to pack a lunch and head out for the day. Yay! But where to go?

The Chimney Pot. OM-D E-M1 with Panansonic 12-35mm f/2.8.  f/5.6 @ 1/1000th, ISO 200

A quick check of the tides, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go. High tide was scheduled for 1.00pm, and it was likely going to be very dramatic. The country had been issued with a high-waves warning earlier on in the week, and from our home we can hear, and see, the waves as they crash into Cobden tiphead. With tides, and waves that dramatic, there's really only one place to head to if you're a photographer - Punakaiki and the Pancake Rock Blowholes.

Yours truly ready to capture the action. Photo: Joanna Lorimer. Nikon D70 with Nikkor 18-55mm

The Pancake Rock Blowholes at Punakaiki, are a very famous tourist destination. The 'pancake' rocks are formations that began 30 million years ago, when lime-rich fragments of dead marine creatures were deposited on the sea bed. These were then covered by layers of soft mud. Thousands of years of rain, wind and sea spray have etched the softer siltstone into horizontal grooves, which look like giant layers of pancakes.

Earthquakes have raised them from the seabed to the level we can see today, as well as creating a maze of underground passages and open caverns facing the sea. When there's a big swell and a high tide, the ocean surges into these caverns and water is forced through the passages. Huge geysers of spray can then burst spectacularly skyward - under the right conditions. The sorts of conditions we were likely to have on this very day...

Pancake Rocks Blowholes, Punakaiki. E-M1 with Lumix 12-35mm. f/6.3 @ 1/1250th, ISO 200

We were not disappointed. I've lived on the West Coast for most of my life, and have visited - and photographed - the Pancake Rocks Blowholes dozens of times. I've never seen them this good. They were, as the young kids say, 'Epic'! In fact, they were so good, and so powerful, that the spray from the really big geysers was reaching the viewing platform and drenching everyone. Very exciting - but not great for camera gear and lenses.

For the hour or so that we were there photographing the blowholes, I adopted a 'burst and hide' style of shooting. I would wait for the really big blows (you could hear them coming), shoot a rapid-fire high speed burst of about a dozen images, then quickly point my camera down and into my chest as I turned my back to the spray! It helped to keep most of the salt spray off of the camera, but I would still need to wipe the front of the lens every 10 minutes or so. Note to self - use a UV filter over the lens next time.

Surge Pool. E-M1 with Lumix 12-35mm. f/6.3 @ 1/640th, ISO 200

Fortunately, both the Olympus OM-D E-M1 and the Lumix 12-35mm f/2.8 are weather-sealed and can take some pretty serious punishment from the elements. But salt water is salt water, and probably not great for lens coatings or metal, weather-sealing or not. I was, as mentioned, trying to be careful and not get my gear drenched.

Having said that, it was pretty difficult to keep anything dry with all the spray from the sea floating around. As someone who wears glasses 100% of the time, it didn't take long between wipes until the lenses of your glasses (and camera) were needing a wipe-down again. Annoyingly, the really big geysers seemed to happen every time I stopped to wipe clear my glasses and lens. I must have missed at least half a dozen really big blows while wiping glass clear of water spots. But as maddening as that was, I knew if I was patient, it would only be a matter of time before another big gush came around.

Thar she blows! Olympus OM-D E-M1 with Lumix 12-35mm. f/6.3 @ 1/1600th, ISO 200

This is the big one! The biggest geyser I have ever seen come from the Pancake Rock Blowholes. And as impressive as it looks in the photograph, it's ten times more impressive being there and seeing it happen. The sheer volume and power of the water is - in a word - awesome!

As I said earlier, I've photographed the blowholes dozens of times. And I've captured some pretty decent geysers in my time. Or at least I thought I had. Until today. 

I really don't think it could get any more impressive than this. The photograph above of the biggest geyser I've ever seen at the Pancake Rocks Blowholes, is a 'bucket list' photo for me. It's one of those "if I never take another shot of this in my life I'd be happy" kind of photo. It's the 'action' shot of the blowholes that I've always wanted. And now, I've finally got it.

Does getting the image fill me with a sense of accomplishment. Heck yeah! Of course it does. The above image is probably a 30+ year image in the making. I smile every time I look at it. Why wouldn't I?

The aftermath. Olympus OM-D E-M1 with Lumix 12-35mm. f/6.3 @ 1/1600th, ISO 200

Does that mean I will stop going to Punakaiki to photograph the blowholes? No, not at all. I will still head to the blowholes if the weather and photography gods line-up again. And who knows, maybe there's an even bigger geyser in store for me in the future? 

But I doubt it. And as I said, if I never get the same conditions ever again in my lifetime, I can die happy, knowing I got 'my' image of the blowholes on a good day.

I also couldn't think of better gear to capture it with either. The Panasonic Lumix 12-35mm f/2.8 is creating beautifully crisp, detailed, sharp and vibrant images - with very impressive edge-to-edge sharpness at the apertures I'm shooting with (around f/5.6 to f/8 mostly). And the Olympus E-M1 is blazing fast, wonderfully responsive, fantastic to shoot with, and the RAW files are a joy to process. I've only had this combination for a few weeks, and it has already netted me a 'bucket-list' shot. What more could I ask for? 

Wild weather, second thoughts and possible issues...

The South Island of New Zealand experienced a major weather system this weekend (as I write this), with rain levels reaching red alert. To put this into perspective, this was only the third red alert warning the weather authority had ever issued - with flooding, slips, road closures and evacuations expected. All of which occurred.

Here on the West Coast, the town of Westport in the Buller Region (where I grew up) was the worst hit, with thousands of people evacuated from their homes by the NZ Army. Many of those homes were flooded, and so now the long - and expensive - rebuilding process begins.

Fortunately, for us here in Greymouth, the rain didn't cause any major flooding. The town has a history of flooding from the Grey River, since the town was originally designed around the wharf area. In 1986 the Grey River flooded the town twice in as many months, and the town had finally had enough. A 'floodwall' was erected, which has since been heightened, and the town hasn't flooded since.

Blaketown Breakwater. Olympus OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/6.3 @ 1/250th, ISO 1600

That's all very interesting, I hear you say. But what's it got to do with photography? Very good question. And although a weather event such as the one I've just described would certainly create some compelling photographs, I didn't go out and take any (although some did). I've mentioned a few times on this blog that I'm not really a 'go out and take photos in the pouring rain' type of guy. And I'm not. As the relentless rain pounded on our town, I stayed as warm and dry as possible inside. So did my camera gear.

But.... after every good storm, there is always a calm. And that's when I like to go out and photograph. The calm before, and after, every storm gives the most amazing light if you are a landscape photographer. I'm not a photojournalist who wants to be out where the action is. I'm a landscape photographer who chases the light. And fortunately, true to form, the sunset on the Sunday night once the storm had passed, looked like it was going to be impressive.

Sunset after the Storm. OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/6.3 @ 1/500th, ISO 1600

Of course, after such a massive storm event, the other thing that's going to be impressive is the surf. So when my wife suggested I go out and take some photos of what could turn out to be an impressive sunset (thanks honey), I knew that I wanted to return to the Blaketown Tiphead. Not only does this give the perfect vantage point for sunsets at this time of year, but there would be plenty of wave action to capture as well.

And as you can see from the images that accompany this post, I wasn't disappointed.

Unfortunately, there is another aspect of the evening's photography with which I am, very much, disappointed. And it has to do, sadly, with my camera!

Sight Seeing. OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/6.3 @ 1/80th, ISO 1600

No, it's not the fact that I've done it again and inadvertently shot all these images at ISO 1600 (although that does hack me off and I really need to remember to check before shooting)! Unfortunately it's a little more serious that that. But let me back-up a bit first before I explain my problem...

Over the last week or two, I've been considering selling my micro four thirds gear and going back to a DSLR. Yeah, I know. Surprise, surprise. But hang on, because there is method to my madness.

I'm not going to go into detail, but my wife and I have been struggling financially over the last couple of years. We've gone down to only one income, have bills to pay, and it would be quite nice to eat as well. Our money worries have lead both of us to sell off a few items, just so we could afford groceries for the week, and it doesn't look like getting much better anytime soon.

I've never been afraid of using 'old' tech when it comes to cameras - although I recently made the decision to sell all my film cameras and old film stocks. Film is just too expensive when you are on a very tight budget - and we needed the money. But I have also said repeatedly on this blog and other channels, that the digital cameras we drooled over ten years ago (and that cost a small fortune back then), don't stop working just because a newer model comes out. Yes, we do make impressive advancements from time to time. But mostly it's just incremental upgrades. And we certainly don't need all the tech that these companies tell us we do to create great photographs.

I've also stated over the years my love for Nikon. Especially some of the 'older' cameras like the D200, D300, D90 etc. It just so happens that you can get these cameras now for almost nothing. In fact, these older digital cameras are cheaper than most secondhand film cameras! I kid you not!

I already happen to have a Nikon D70 - a 6MP Methuselah of a camera from 2004, with a Nikkor 18-55mm kit lens. For around $200 I could get a Nikon D90, or D200 body to go with it - and for another $150 could probably get a 55-200mm kit lens as well. So for about $350NZ I could have a Nikon DLSR kit with lens coverage from 18-200mm. And If I really wanted to splurge, I'm sure I could pick up a Nikon Speedlight for about $150 as well.

You can probably see where I'm going with this?

Watching the Waves. OM-D E-M1 with 12-50mm EZ. f/6.3 @ 1/30th, ISO 1600

And that's exactly where I was going. Until I had a quick rethink, and a slight change of mind. Yes, we need the money. And yes, if I sold all my Olympus gear and picked up some Nikon gear instead I could probably have around $500NZ left to live on for a few weeks. But I really am loving using the E-M1 (or was, hold that thought) and really don't want to have to change.

To make matters worse (or better, depending on how you look at it), towards the end of last week somebody posted on an NZ Facebook group I belong to, that they were selling their Panasonic Lumix 12-35mm f2.8 lens. At a ridiculously good price. I messaged them, and long story short, he is holding the lens for me for a couple of weeks while I get the money together. 

So yes, I am selling some of my Olympus gear - but not for the reason I originally intended. Although if everything I've put online sells, then I will have some money left over that we can use to live on for a week or two. So that's it then, right?

Groundswell. OM-D E-M1 with 12-50mm EZ. f/11 @ 2 secs, ISO 200. ICM

If only it were that simple... (it never is).

I said above that I'm loving using the E-M1. And I am. But...(sigh), recently I've noticed that the rear control dial seems to be less responsive than I'd like. It seems to be 'sticking' or missing some clicks, so that when I go to change the exposure compensation (which is what I have it set to) it will miss a few clicks before it starts to respond and change the value. Damn!

I've done some research (online obviously), and it would appear that this is a 'thing' with the original E-M1. And it will probably only get worse over time, until the wheel ceases functioning altogether. Double damn!

I purchased it secondhand, last year (October) from a very reputable camera store - but even so, I'm fairly sure they only give a 3 month 'warranty' with their secondhand goods (which is fairly standard). So I'm way out of the warranty period. I did email them last night and let them know I was having this issue, that it's a known fault, and that I purchased last October. I also asked if they have a repair guy they use, and how much they think it might cost. I'll see what they say when they get back to me.

I don't expect them to honor a warranty that has already lapsed - but I do know that they just happen to have another secondhand E-M1 body in stock. Maybe - just maybe - they might consider sending me that unit instead if I return mine?

But then again... if it's a 'known' issue with the E-M1, is it likely to happen to the other unit as well? And if so, how comfortable will I be using the camera if I'm always expecting the rear control dial to one day give up the ghost!? Triple damn!

And that get's me thinking again - back to my original thoughts. Because I also know they happen to have a Nikon D90 body and a couple of D200 bodies, going cheaply. Would they consider swapping the E-M1 out for one of them? The more I think about it, the more my head starts to hurt. And since they don't actually have to do anything to help me from a legal point of view, I may end up with an E-M1 that I'm not happy using? Quadruple damn!

Because this is a known issue, there are people online who have 'fixed' it themselves. This, of course, requires taking the camera apart a little to access the control dial in question, and then apply a good dose of electrical lubricant. Those who have performed this surgery say that it has worked really effectively, and that it isn't as difficult as it looks. I guess if it came down to it, I'd give it a go myself. But I'd rather not have to.

I'd be happy to move back to Nikon - I really would. But I'd rather not have to. But I'd also rather not use a camera that had me on edge every time I used the rear control dial. Which I use a LOT. So I guess I'll wait and see what the camera store's reply is before making any decision going forwards? In the meantime, I do have a lot of my Olympus gear up for sale, so that I can afford to get the Lumix 12-35mm f2.8. The timing is, perhaps, prophetic?

Mid-Winter magic light

Winter on the West Coast of the South Island where I live, isn't as cold or extreme as it is in other parts of New Zealand. You have to travel about an hour to the east to see any snow, or about six hours south towards Wanaka, Queenstown and Otago (where it can get very extreme). At home we can get the occasional hoar frost in the coldest months (July/August), but that's about as rough as it gets. And I ain't complaining.

What we do often get on the coast in these winter months, is crisp, clear days and intensely colourful sunsets. There seems to be less cloud around at this time of the year (don't as me why), so the intense colours at sunset are unobstructed - seeming only to add to their intensity.

Rock glow. Olympus OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/8 @ 1/400th, ISO 200

I understand that photographing beautiful colours at sunset is not every photographers cup-of-tea. I get that... kind of. And then again, I kinda don't? Maybe it has something to do with not wanting to be too chocolate-boxey or obvious. Maybe they think that pointing your camera at a landscape lit by glorious colours is too easy? Or maybe they believe that if you've seen one sunset, you've seen them all?

I don't agree (obviously). I've never shied away from chocolate-box subject matter - although I'd like to think that I still bring my own unique 'eye' to the resulting photo? But even if I don't, what's wrong with a photographer wanting to capture jaw-droppingly beautiful light? Isn't that why we are encouraged to shoot during 'golden hour'? 

Rapahoe Rock. OM-D E-M1 with Lumix 45-150mm. f/5.6 @ 3.2secs, ISO 200. ND filter

The mid-winter light doesn't get much more golden than last evening (as I write this), at one of my favourite places to shoot - Rapahoe Beach. I had been to the beach with friends during the day a few weeks ago, testing out my newly acquired E-M10 (see the post here). We went to an area of the beach I hadn't really explored before, and so I made a mental note to come back during the evening, at low tide, with good light. I didn't have to wait long. A few weeks later and the conditions lined-up. I left work about half an hour early, and was out at the beach before sunset to see what I could capture.

Mid-winter sunset, Rapahoe. OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/9 @ 1/3rd sec, ISO 200

Sunset coincided almost perfectly with low tide, which was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because I wanted low-tide to expose the rocks that would otherwise be submerged, thereby creating some foreground interest to the composition. But it was a curse because at extreme low tide the shoreline recedes a great distance out from the beach, so most of the rocks I wanted to use were meters away from the water.

As you can see from the image above, I did manage to find one lone rock, that I could place in the foreground and play with some movement in the water. But I would have preferred to shoot higher up the beach where there were dozens more rocks. So as it turned out, the extreme low-tide wasn't really when I wanted to be there. I will need to go out again on the turning tide, maybe a couple of hours after high tide as it's moving into low tide? That way I should  be able to reach the rocks to photograph them, but there will still be enough water around to make for interesting compositions. That's the plan anyway...

Let there be light. OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/16 @ 1 sec, ISO 200

Having established that the conditions weren't exactly how I wanted them, and having taken a few images that I thought captured the feeling I was going for, my mind once again flipped into ICM (intentional camera movement) mode.

Light levels were dropping rapidly, so I was able to get exposure times upwards of 1 second with apertures of f16. With no clouds in the sky at all, and bands of colour stretching along the horizon, my immediate instinct was to pan quickly across the scene to accentuate them. This worked really well, with the resulting images still having a landscape/seacape feel while capturing that abstract ICM quality.

The Duplicity of Light. OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/8 @ 2.5secs, ISO 200

But the mere nature of experimentation with ICM photography is that you can create the unexpected. The above photo - The Duplicity of Light -  is my favourite shot from the evening. It looks almost like a double exposure, but it's not. At least not in the truest sense of the meaning. What do I mean by that?

Well because, by using the ICM technique, it is in some ways a double exposure image, as I intended it to be. It's just a double exposure taken with a single image! Let me explain....

The exposure time was 2.5 seconds, which is quite a long time when you're hand-holding the camera. I knew I wanted a close-up of the rock with the orange glow on the horizon, but I also wanted the waves on the beach to be included. I simply started the exposure on the rock for the first second, then wriggled the camera down so it was pointing more at the beach and waves for the last second. Even though it was taken in one frame, it was really conceived of as a double exposure. And this is the sort of fun imagery you can play around with and achieve through intentional camera movement.

Twinkle twinkle...  f5/6 @ 1/2sec, ISO 200

However it was achieved, I love it. And it's certainly the kind of photography that I'm getting excited about producing going forward. Yes I can, and will, continue to capture the more 'realistic' (call it chocolate box if you like) landscapes of my region, since they too inspire me to get out and take more photos. But it's the abstract ICM images that are really 'floating my boat' creatively at the moment.

Finally, just a word on the intensity of colours that all these images display. They are all true-to-life and exactly what I was seeing with the naked eye on the evening. Of course I've lightened and darkened (dodged and burned) some areas of some of the images for creative effect - but I haven't increased the saturation in any of them. In fact, with my favourite image, The Duplicity of Light, I actually decreased saturation by about 15% because I thought the original was just too much!

Yes, decreasing highlights and adding clarity and dehaze (all of which I have done) will tend to increase the saturation of colours in the image - but that's where I've left it. And it really was as colourful to my eyes as it appears in the photos. Just thought I'd mention it in case anyone was thinking I had cranked the saturation up to 80%! I haven't. Not that I'm not allowed to mind you. They're my images and I can do want I want with them in post-processing. But that's another blog post for another time...

If at first you don't succeed, try again...

I wrote a couple of posts ago about going out with my son to photograph a sunset. Unfortunately the sunset never really eventuated that evening, but I managed to turn lemons into lemonade (metaphorically speaking) and came away with some ICM (intentional camera movement) images that I really liked (see here).

Josh is going back to Uni this week so we decided to give it another try, since the weather has been consistently good while he's been home (clear, crisp winter days). We gave ourselves a little more time for this trip, and headed out to our location a good hour before sunset. Due to the current position of the setting sun, we figured our best bet was to go to the Blaketown Tiphead.

FYI: Tiphead simply means the end of a long and narrow point - in this case the road that leads out to the end of Blaketown and into the Tasman Sea. This area is also sometimes referred to as the Southern Breakwater, with its companion the Northern Breakwater (or Cobden Tiphead) forming the mouth of the Grey River as it enters Greymouth from the Tasman Sea. It can be very rough and treacherous for fishing boats coming into Greymouth when conditions are rough - and can make for some spectacular photos. I've yet to photograph this, since as stated, the conditions are usually less than ideal. Not the kind of weather I think about taking my camera out in. Even though the E-M1 and my 12-50mm EZ lens are weatherproof. Still....! Maybe oneday?

Who you lookin at? Olympus OM-DE-M1 with Lumix 45-150. f/6.3 @ 1/125th, ISO 200

With plenty of time to look for the composition I wanted at sunset, when we arrived at our destination my attention was immediately caught by the seagulls that perch on the rocks surrounding the Tiphead. There was some lovely evening light as the sun was sinking behind a bank of clouds (more on those later). The seagulls, who were extremely chill and very used to having humans around, were posing politely (mostly) for us, as we snapped away from a very close distance. You can often get within a few feet of them, so very close-up and detailed images can be had.

Seagull silhouette. E-M1 with Lumix 45-150mm. f/5.6 @ 1/3200th, ISO 200 

Seagulls are scavengers, and can get quite aggressive with each other if food is around. If you happen to be eating anything near one, you will most likely suddenly find yourself surrounded by dozens and dozens of them. But if you don't have any food, they do tend to leave you alone (thankfully). Because of this scavenger reputation, they aren't one of the most popular birds to photograph. And yet they can be quite beautiful, with their bright white body feathers, grey wings and red beaks. And, of course, if you manage to capture them in silhouette like I have in the above image, then it's hard to tell what kind of bird it is (unless you're an avid bird watcher of course). 

Taking the Shot. OM-D E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/6.3 @ 1/160th, ISO 200

As the sun began to set, it became obvious that we were once again going to be thwarted by a large bank of cloud on the horizon. As you can see, there was still a strip of golden light, and this was giving us some colour in the sky, but not really what we had hoped for. Still, undaunted, we began to set up our tripods - me on one side of the road and Josh on the other.

It was at this point that I discovered a problem. I'd left my tripod mounting plate at home on my office desk! I had taken it off the tripod head to attach it to the camera prior to going out - to save time in the field. But I had obviously been distracted at that crucial moment (I'm getting old), and had forgotten to attach it! Doh!

Surprisingly though, shooting into the light and letting the foreground go to a silhouette, I was getting very hand-holdable exposure times. I had switched from my Panasonic 45-150mm telephoto to my Olympus 12-50mm EZ lens, and at the wide end of the range I was easily able to take pin-sharp images hand-held at exposures of around 1/160th to 1/200th of a second. The ibis (in body image stabilisation) on the E-M1 is fantastic, but even so, the shutter speeds I was getting were fast enough for it not to be a concern.

Cobden Tiphead at last light. E-M1 with 12-50mm EZ. f/5.6 @ 1/2sec, ISO 400 

But eventually, the light did drop significantly enough that I had to start relying on image stabilisation to get sharp images. The above image was taken at half a second - obviously with image stabilisation turned on - and is tack sharp! Just amazing.

I know that the very latest ibis in the Olympus E-M1x and E-M1 Mk3 is even better, with people hand-holding for over 2 seconds and still getting sharp results. But for an old fella like me, who comes from the film days when tripods were a necessity if you shot below 1/60th, hand-holding and getting a sharp image at even half a second is mind-blowing.

I don't try to push my luck with image stabilisation - preferring to work from a tripod or follow the focal length rule for hand-holding as much as possible (shutter speed = or greater than the focal length of lens). But in this instance, I had no option, since I had left the tripod mounting plate at home. 

Breakwater blur. E-M1 with Zuiko 12-50mm EZ. f/20 @ 2.5secs, ISO 200 

Although I was successfully getting half-second exposures, I know when I've reached my limit. For the last few images of the evening, I switched back into ICM (intentional camera movement) mode, and captured some abstract photos of the waves coming in.

Once again, these happen to be my favorite images of the evening. They just resonate with me emotionally and creatively. I'm sure there are some who might look at them and think they're just blurry, out of focus photos. While others may even question whether it's a photograph at all?

But I simply adore them. And I think I'm going to be doing a lot more of them in the future. I already have the urge to get a collection of them together and have an exhibition somewhere. It's been a long time since I put together an exhibition of my work, but I've been mulling it over a lot lately. I guess I wasn't really sure what the exhibition might be about - but now I think I do. So yeah - hopefully an exhibition is on the cards. Don't know where, don't know when (apologies to Vera Lynn) - but I will definitely post about it on the blog when I do.