Perfection Under The Vast Yukon Sky

Yes, We Did A U-Turn On The Alaska Highway

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

Sometimes you need a bit of luck. In early September, I was on the Alaska Highway, travelling from Haines Junction to Whitehorse, after being lucky enough to get a shot of a charging grizzly a couple of hours earlier.

We had covered close to 2000 kilometres in six days and, as always, my head was swivelling in every direction as I sat in the passenger seat. I used two cameras during the trip, a Pentax K100D with my 18-125mm lens and a Pentax K200D with my 70-300mm lens. I had shot several hundred pictures through the window of the 4WD as we travelled at 100 kilometres an hour.

But this time, I only had time to squeeze off a couple of shots as a lake flashed past on my side of the vehicle. Margaret Goodwin of Yukon Tourism was at the wheel and I asked her a few seconds later if she would actually mind turning back. Willingly, she found a spot to do a U-turn and we retraced our path as I looked for the lake.

It was the only time on the entire trip that we had doubled back – and it was well worth it.

So why did I make the unusual request? Because all through my week in the territory, I had been looking for the quintessential Yukon shot. I wanted one frame that would capture a vast horizon, under a big sky, encapsulating snowy mountains and some of the beautiful fall colours.


Yes, I had shot several scenes that fulfilled those self-imposed requirements – but for some reason I knew this vista would be one of the best. I guess I would rank it with another shot taken on the same trip, the fourth and final frame on my post Big Blue of mountain peaks reflected in the surface of an amazing blue lake near Dawson City.

The Blue Lake shots were taken under a flawless blue sky, but here on the Alaska Highway, the sky was a showcase of beautiful hues that looked like a watercolour painting. As you can see from these shots, it was dusk and there were ribbons of blue-grey cloud above the mountains. The lake was perhaps 250 metres from one end to the other. As you can see from the shots, it was fringed by trees that spanned several colours from autumn’s palette.

And there was very little breeze. While this might not seem like an important factor, it comes into play in a big way when you are photographing a reflection on the surface of water, as I was attempting here.

Not one of these images has been enhanced in any way. I never use Photoshop – as most readers know by now. The true beauty of communicating through photography is to allow someone to see exactly what you saw through your lens.

That evening in the Yukon, everything suddenly seemed to come together for this series of shots.


For other participants in Dot’s concept, go to Sky Watch HQ.

E Is For Eyesight

Never Let An Opportunity Go A-Begging

Photograph copyright: DAVID McMAHON

In October 2006, I was briefly in Calcutta, the Indian city where I was born. Early one morning, a childhood friend of mine picked me up and drove me around the sprawling city. founded by Job Charnock, just so I could capture familiar scenes.

We had been out for almost three hours when he suddenly stopped without warning. It was not one of the spots where we had planned to stop – and I could not see anything that I might want to shoot.

Before I could ask him anything, he pointed through the passenger window, telling me this was not a run-of-the-mill scene. He explained that a group of four beggars frequented the area, and that they always walked together, chanting as they carried two multi-coloured rugs.

A rug? Why the rug?

He explained that they held the rug in the manner of a fireman’s blanket. It was their practice to walk to a series of apartment buildings early every morning, before the occupants left for work. From the windows and balconies, the residents would throw coins onto the rug. Then, when there was no more money forthcoming, the foursome would carefully turn around and make their way to the next apartment building.

I was fascinated.

But I had a question. Why did the four of them operate together as a team?

His answer floored me. They worked together because they were blind. They shuffled down the streets together, taking smaller steps because they did so in unison and because they were not blessed with normal vision.

"You can travel the world and you’ll never see anything quite like this," he told me.

He was right. The story of the beggars struck me immediately. So too did the bright colours of their clothing and the vivid hues of the rugs they were carrying. I was about to open my door when I decided to take a couple of shots from the passenger seat. So I rolled the window down and pointed my camera at the poignant scene. They were only a few feet away from me.

As I did so, someone called out to the beggars, telling them that a person in a car was about to photograph them. Things suddenly started to happen very quickly.

The four beggars wheeled around rapidly and took three or four steps (very much quicker than I reckoned they were capable of) towards the car. One of them was yelling something that I could not quite catch and the expression on the face of the closest beggar was suddenly hostile.

Before I could say anything, my friend had put his imported European car in drive and accelerated away swiftly. I only had time to shoot one frame before he made his escape.

Just one shot. Taken in a split-second before the opportunity vanished forever.

It was an incident - and a basic lesson in instinctive photography - that was to have an interesting echo, when I was charged by a grizzly recently. (You can see the photo and read the post at G Is For Grizzly.) As in India, one shot was all I had time for on that amazing day in the Yukon - but how many people are lucky enough to hit the shutter on a scene like a grizzly defending its piece of Canadian turf?

Maybe on this Calcutta morning, I was blessed with the understanding of the "Decisive Moment" that the peerless Henri Cartier-Bresson spoke about so eloquently. We have so much to learn from the masters of photography. And so much to be thankful for.

For the home of ABC Wednesday, go to Mrs Nesbitt's Place.

Verse And Worse

Random Wit, Errant Rhyme. Not A Literary Crime

Never wrestle with a grizzly
If the weather’s wet and drizzly
Sit indoors, tobacco-chewin’
You just don’t need "trouble bruin"

Inter Nest Explorer

You Giving Me The Bird?

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

So here's the deal. You're walking up a slippery hillside path at Kluane National Park. Snowy mountains dominate the skyscape and Lake Kathleen shimmers below you, almost as far as the eye can see. You've got not one but two cameras around your neck and as you climb, they seem to get incrementally heavier.

You're concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, as efficiently as possible. If you slip, you're going to end up on your butt. There are tree roots. There are rocks. There is lichen. There are rivulets. There are mountain streams. Not dangerous, in any manner of speaking. But seriously embarrassing if you lose your balance.

So you get the idea? I have my eyes firmly focused downwards. That's when Brent Liddle, our guide, asks if we've seen the ptarmigan.

Ptarmigan? Mate, what ptarmigan? I can't see anything that looks remotely like a ptarmigan.

That's when he points up into a tree several metres in front of us. So now it's confession time. A city slicker like me would not have seen the bird, even if I'd been looking into the branches. It's all about natural camouflage. See how the bird blends into its surroundings and the tree bark in the first shot?

And precisely because of that, I try and creep forward, in order to get a better composition. The bird's one thing, but hey, I want to get him framed against the yellow and soft green of the fall colours. So one step at a time, I inch forward, making up ground while arcing round to the right a bit, to get the colours I want.

Mister Ptarmigan is watching me, but he ain't afraid. He ain't skeered at all. He's just a-sitting there, swivelling comfortably on his branch and making sure I show him some respect.

Even when his body language changes, he's in no hurry to take his leave. He leans forward, as if he's about to take flight - and I have the Sigma 300mm lens ready, if he takes wing. But he just sits there, as if he's testing me.

If I thought that was the only wildlife I'd see during the hike, I was mistaken. A few hours later, I had the opportunity of a lifetime. How many photographers get the chance to shoot an image of a Charging Grizzly?

Check out the rules at Camera Critters or go to Misty Dawn.

Verse And Worse

Random Wit, Errant Rhyme. Not A Literary Crime

If you've just stepped off the barge

And a grizzly decides to charge

It's just because his radar's jammin'

And he's mistaken you for salmon

G Is For Grizzly

This Bear Charged Me A Few Hours Ago

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

Yes, you did read that correctly. I shot this photograph while being charged by a grizzly late yesterday evening.

Yes, I know - you're not the only one who thinks I'm mad. But this is how it happened.

Before I flew out to the Yukon, I thought the schedule that was meticulously prepared by Margaret Goodwin of Yukon Tourism was a great way to see as much of the Territory as I possibly could in a week. What we didn't know at that stage was that I would encounter a grizzly at speed!

We were taken on a hike in Kluane National Park by Brent Liddle (see photo below) of Kluane Ecotours. He's a very interesting bloke, who not only cares deeply for this park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but is a mine of information on the area, as well as local flora and fauna. At the start of the hike, Brent informed us that he had carried bear spray for thirty years, but had never had to use it.


At the end of a six-hour hike through a stunning landscape of mountains surrounding Lake Kathleen, we were probably five minutes from the four-wheel drives. That's when one of our seven-member group called out that there was a grizzly up ahead. She had seen the bear stand up and reckoned he was at least seven to eight feet tall.

With two cameras around my neck and a sweater and a rain jacket knotted loosely around my waist, I ran on to join the group. Brent told us to stand together so that the grizzly, with its poor eyesight, would think we were a large enough object to pose a threat.

At the start of the hike, he had told us not to make loud noises if confronted by a bear, so as not to frighten it. And he had emphasised that you never run, because that action signals to the bear that you are prey.

Run? I wasn't going to run. I wanted photographs of this grizzly.

Mate, how many people get a chance to do that? Seriously?

I moved to the front of the group just as the grizzly re-appeared. He looked at us very briefly and then began his charge.

There was no time to think. He charged 10 metres (about 30 feet) and covered the ground very quickly. I shot the first image during his charge, but before I had any time to hit the shutter a second time, he changed his mind and ran into the undergrowth instead.


A few seconds later, he re-appeared on another trail a few metres to our right - exactly where I'd run to catch up with the group. I got four shots of him on the track before he vanished again.

But here's the deal. Because I have an analytical mind, I tried working out why I'd only had time to shoot a solitary frame as he charged us. Then I figured it out. I had my 300mm lens on a Pentax K200D slung around my neck. Over that, supported in my right hand, was my all-purpose 18-125mm lens on my Pentax K100D.

I estimated that the bear appeared for three seconds while he made up his mind. His charge lasted another three seconds. That was six seconds in all - but here's where it gets really interesting.

I had shut off the Pentax K200D with the long lens and I had fully retracted the double-barrel lens, because we were practically at the end of the hike. As I mulled over the time-and-motion study in my head, I realised what the answer was.

I asked one of the hikers to time me as I re-created the exact situation. I went through exactly the same motions. I moved the Pentax K100D away from my chest and grabbed the Pentax K200D with both hands. With my right thumb, I triggered the "on-off" switch. With my left thumb, I moved the focus button from auto to manual. Pointing the camera at the bear, I had rotated the first barrel to the fully open position. Then I had rotated the focus ring to the maximum. Next, I used my left thumb to move the focus button to auto and finally hit the trigger with my right thumb.

It took five seconds, as I had suspected.

All of which gave me one second to take the shot. I guess one solitary frame isn't a bad result in those conditions.

Brent's bear spray lives on - and hopefully he won't have to use it for another 30 years!

For the home of ABC Wednesday, go to Mrs Nesbitt's Place.