Some of the completed edits from this years trip! Make sure to follow along on Facebook and Instagram as new photos are released!

MY BEST YEAR YET

Explore. Capture. Repeat. The baseline that led up to this year’s annual fall colors trip. Seven trips to the Porcupine Mountains under all seasons and conditions - all to prepare for the big autumn color show! Through the year, I faced many challenges, setbacks, and downright defeats. Those moments pushed me further than I thought possible and led to a season of growth and understanding well beyond my expectations. All of this achieved with one goal in mind - shoot one location well.

I considered a trip report in place of this post and decided against it. I want to share what made this trip successful and recap the lessons learned this year. Trepidation and worry faded into cherished memories and victory. In retrospect, I am glad I trusted my intuition and continued with the plan despite its challenges. This year set the foundation for how I will approach photography going forward. Let’s get into this!

EARLY BEGINNINGS

Let’s rewind to January. I was eager to start the new year right. I committed myself to a simple ethos: shoot one location well. I set my sights on the Porcupine Mountains and Michigan’s Western Upper Peninsula. I’ve been traveling to this area for nearly a decade. Despite my time spent there, I felt I had only scratched the surface of what it offered. This year, that was going to change.

At first, I questioned my choice to focus on one area for the entire year. I thought it limited me more than anything; how many times can you shoot the same place, right? Thoughts of missed opportunities elsewhere crept in, and self-doubt took over. I realized I was in control; if this did not work out, I had time to recalculate. I committed to the area during winter and spring, willing to adjust the rest of the year if needed. I planned out a winter trip to the Porcupine Mountains in February to start the year’s adventures. This was the catalyst for my best year. Let’s look at where it all began.

TRIAL AND TRIBULATION

Winter … blah. Either a snowy winter wonderland or brown sticks and desolation. There is no in-between. This year’s winter was underwhelming. Low snow totals and warmer temperatures made photography a challenge, especially landscapes. Despite the odd weather, I committed to the February trip. I hoped to find something unique against the odds.

I packed my gear, and off I went. Four days of winter hiking and exploring awaited. When I arrived, I felt a strange sense of discontentment. It was my first winter in the Porkies. With little snow, the lifeless landscape offered little inspiration. Doubt crept in again, and I started asking myself, “why are you here?”. With a sense of discouragement, I decided to try again the following day.

The next morning, I still felt uninspired, so I drove to Bond Falls. It’s not in the Porcupine Mountains, but I thought a warm-up at a familiar spot could spark my creativity. Light snow had passed through the area overnight; I was certain that it would lead to something. I shot some compositions, but the feeling wasn’t right. Something was missing. The trip went on like this the first day and into the second. It was unclear if it was a creative block, a self-fulfilling prophecy, or something else. By the end of day two, I was ready to leave. I gave myself one more day before calling it quits.

The next day began the same way. An early wake-up call, a cold car ride, and hope of finding something that spoke to me. I began this day with a different approach; I drove to a location I had never been to before. A small set of waterfalls on the outskirts of the Porcupine Mountains caught my interest. I loaded the directions into Google Maps and off I went. Reaching the trailhead, I saw a gap in the trees and an old road winding down a steep trail. I paused for a moment, considering whether I wanted to commit to this. Something told me to give it a chance; I turned on four-wheel drive and down the road I went. A quick trip, about a half mile, and I found a dead end on a ridge. I decided I was going to hike the rest of the way in, I grabbed my pack, and into the forest I went.

At first, the hike was uneventful. A light layer of snow coated the landscape, and it lacked character. Then I heard the waterfall. Without a second thought, I scrambled down the hillside and into a ravine and walked along the river up to the waterfall. It wasn’t much, but I recognized its potential.

I walked around the area, located a few spots that stood out to me, and took notes on their locations and coordinates. I even snapped a few compositions on my phone as a reference for a return trip in the future. I hiked back to the car and ate lunch on the ridge. I enjoyed my meal, watching the light pass over the Porcupine Mountains, reflecting on the trip. In a moment of clarity, I realized I was not anxious any longer. My doubts about the trip were gone. I realized I had not wasted my time. Being present in the wilderness and the promise of adventure and discovery captivated me. It was almost as if I had stepped into a completely different trip, but why? I realized a few very important lessons that would carry me through that trip, and each trip to come.

EXPECTATIONS

During my reflection, I realized I had expected to see majestic winter scenes. I imagined snow-covered hills and tree trunks in snowdrifts. My desire to find these scenes had caused my angst. These expectations had caused my frustration with the experience because it was all I was focused on. I was too busy looking for what I wanted and too focused on my frustration with not finding it. Moving my focus to the experience and the options available to me instead of what I expected changed everything. When I flipped that switch and enjoyed the experience first, I began experiencing what the landscape had to offer, rather than focusing on what it lacked.

The message was obvious: rein in your expectations. Excitement is one thing. Imagining perfect, majestic landscapes is another. If you expect to find something, you will spend your entire trip looking for it and miss what is right in front of you. What is worse, if you cannot find what you expected to, it is going to put you in a terrible state of mind. This can turn into a cycle that will ruin your trip faster than anything else. Control what you can and discover the rest. Your primary goal is to enjoy the landscape and your experience. Photography is secondary. Let the landscape reveal itself to you, rather than trying to force your expectations on it. Being present in the landscape and enjoying it for its own sake will help you see the opportunity it holds.

During my February trip, I realized that the winter wonderland scenes I had envisioned were not a reality. There was nothing I could do about that; I had sought after them for two days. I walked away with one disappointment after another. I had to shoot what was available. All I had to do was quiet my inner voice enough to hear what the landscape was saying to me.

This would translate into each return trip for the rest of the year. Rather than fixating on my desires, I focused my excitement on the unknown discoveries ahead. I took my time at each location and learned it. I watched the way the light filtered through the landscape and considered how varying conditions could change a scene. Allowing the landscape to guide me and my creative process made all the difference.

THE WAITING GAME

When I found that waterfall flowing in the middle of winter, I felt excited. Flowing waterfalls in the middle of February is uncommon! A funny thing happened while I was there, though; I never took my camera out of the bag. I saw the waterfall. I had ideas about how to shoot it. But I decided it was better to attempt the scene in October. I made a mental note of the location and walked away, keeping it in my back pocket for a future return trip. I could have taken a shot and attempted to force a winter scene, but it did not feel right in that moment. Sometimes, you have to come back when the time is right. You have to be willing to wait.

Learn to embrace the waiting game. This set me up for success for the rest of the year. I would even argue it may be the most important takeaway of the year! Finding a new location is exciting; it is the thrill of the hunt for many of us. However, knowing when the location will look its best is essential. There is nothing worse than forcing a scene at a location because you are there. I found countless lesser-known and even unknown places on my return trips throughout the year. Despite temptation, I shot some and waited on others. There are over thirty locations out there that I have yet to shoot!

There is a caveat here, though. Do not chase perfection! There is no such thing as a perfect scene, and waiting on something to be “perfect” will drive you mad. It is unlikely that it will happen. My personal approach is what I like to call “three of four.” If I have three out of four elements in a scene, I am likely going to at least attempt to take the shot. Each scene is going to depend on each element differently. There is no one size fits all approach. My four are light, conditions, detail, and color. I break these down further below:

Light - Direction, feel, and quality of light.

Conditions - Weather or seasonal conditions (i.e., cloudy, rainy, snowy, sunny, overcast, foggy, etc.)

Detail - A sense of place and purpose (i.e., flowing waterfall, native vegetation, regional landmarks, etc.)

Color - Natural color combinations and complementary hues.

These elements are the deciding factors behind when I feel the time is right to shoot an image. They help me craft a story and share my connection to a place. By practicing this approach, I have a baseline that helps guide me. Do not misunderstand what I am trying to say here. I am not recommending you wait eternity to shoot a scene! Instead, set a baseline so you recognize the peak opportunity to tell the story you want to share.

Using the waterfall as an example, in winter it had little to no flow. It lacked detail. The conditions were also poor, there was very little snow. Color was not great, but the light was good. I had one out of four… Now, let’s fast forward to October. I found that scene in February and waited eight months to shoot it! What happened when I came back? There was no flow. I was missing detail again. The story would not make sense.

In this scene, detail was a primary concern, along with light and conditions. Color was a given because it was October (my favorite time of year to shoot!). This time, the reverse was true. I had three out of four, but because I needed the missing element to make the scene complete, I had to pass. Sometimes that is how things work out, and that is okay! I checked it out and saw it would not work this year. So, I sought what could work. Reminding myself that it would still be there next year, I enjoyed the hike and moved on.

A large part of waiting is being okay with walking away without the shot sometimes. Yes, it is hard. But it is necessary if you want to get the portfolio image versus the “good enough” shot. Shoot it when it is right, when it feels right, when it speaks to you. A single keeper is worth a thousand “good enough” shots. This is why focusing on one location is so important. You understand it on a deeper level.

DEEPER VERSUS WIDER

When the time came, I spent a week and a half in the Porcupine Mountains for fall colors. Including my February trip, I had been to the area six times beforehand. During those trips, I was scouting locations, hiking new trails, and spending time in the areas I knew I wanted to shoot in October.

With so much time dedicated to this trip, part of me thought, “think of all the places you can see!”, while experience and wisdom said, “think of the opportunities you will have at the right place during the right time!” I realized I did not want to waste my time running around between a hundred locations. I wanted to use my time to get the shot right at a few locations that mattered to me. Having a longer trip was an opportunity to take my time and get it right, not an invitation to see it all. Sometimes, this meant that some scenes would have to wait another year. And that is okay!

Thus, I realized the defining lesson of the year: Deeper, rather than wider. The answer to my own doubts at the beginning of the year. Committing to one location was never about the need to shoot the same scene again and again. It was never about limiting myself or risking losing other scenes. It was about shooting the right thing at the right time under the right conditions. It was about finding scenes often missed in the rush to fit too many stops into a single trip. It was a lesson in patience. It was about quality over quantity, one good image versus a hundred mediocre shots.

Our instinct is to try to see it all, do it all, experience it all. But what is the point? You miss so much. You have no time to take in the experience. You feel rushed and miss simple things in compositions. You overlook the obvious, or sometimes less obvious choices in a scene. It all adds up to simple mistakes, images that lack thought, or images you do not connect with. We have all been there! Polishing a bad shot because you are so hell-bent on not coming away empty-handed. Or you are determined to make a bad image work. We all know the truth—a bad shot is a bad shot. No amount of Photoshop is going to fix it. Giving yourself the time needed in the field makes all the difference.

This is how you create meaningful, powerful photographs! You learn the location. You see it under different conditions and lighting. You spend time with it. You give yourself time to figure out what you want from it. Then you understand what to look for at that location. You force yourself to go deeper into the scene and draw out what draws you in. Deeper, rather than wider. Sure, you might come home with fewer images. But you will also come home with better images. Forced images are almost always a disaster, and worse, they are painfully obvious. Take your time. Get it right.

WHAT COMES NEXT

That is how I had my best year yet. I focused on one location and dedicated myself to the art, craft, and purpose of not only learning it, but living it. I put my expectations aside. I forced myself to experience the landscape and discover what it offered. I pushed myself to think about the light, conditions, details, and colors of a scene well beyond what I normally would. I reframed my approach to taking a shot when it felt right, rather than settling for good enough. I learned that good photography comes from going deeper into a location, not wider to others. That has made all the difference.

As we close out 2024 and look toward 2025, I have a whole new set of adventures planned. I dedicated this year to Michigan’s Western Upper Peninsula and the Porcupine Mountains. Next year I plan to start the adventure again, but in a whole new way! More details will be available as we get closer to January. I am preparing to release some exciting new content as we enter the New Year. Until then, thank you for reading!

Cheers my friends, and happy holidays!