It is no secret that I’m pretty serious about my landscape photography. I spend a lot of time going to interesting places, searching out subjects, and making photographs. In fact, this activity is undoubtedly the single biggest influence on the nature of my outdoor experiences.

I embrace this effect and regard it as highly positive. I’m convinced that photography deepens my appreciation and understanding of these places and subjects. Like every photographer I know who shares my passion for these subjects, entering the natural world to make photographs focuses my perceptions in powerful ways. I slow down. I stop. I look. I ponder. I wonder. I indulge my curiosity and I see things that I would otherwise miss. I’m intensely aware of light, color, atmosphere, form, and subject.

But sometimes the photography gets in the way…

I hate to think that I might miss some wonderful photographic opportunity, but some years ago I decided to occasionally allow myself the privilege of going out on a hike or a walk without the backpack full of camera and lenses and without the tripod, instead simply going out  and being in the landscape.

At first this may have been a response to a prior decade-long interruption in my photography — a period when I had felt that carrying camera gear interfered with my appreciation of the places I was visiting. I gradually slipped from carrying the usual back-country kit to carrying a smaller 35mm fixed lens camera, eventually getting to where I carried a little consumer zoom lens camera that could do little more than record the fact that I was there. And I was happy doing this!

When I made my subsequent decision to sometimes leave the photography gear behind, at first I didn’t exactly give up the camera on these jaunts.  Instead I just went out with a single, small camera and no tripod. (What if something amazing happens!? I have to be able to photograph it!) But I rarely used the “safety” camera that I was carrying. I was having too much fun (again!) simply experiencing the joy of moving through the landscape at my own pace.

Recently I indulged myself again. In mid-July I was in the Yosemite Sierra for several days of photography. I followed the typical schedule, getting up very early in the morning and photographing for a few hours until the light became less interesting. Then I knocked off in mid- or late-morning and returned to camp for breakfast and to take care of camp chores, with a plan to head back out again and photograph in the late afternoon and on past sunset.

While sitting around during the middle of the day I remembered that a short trail took off nearby for a pretty little lake. It was only a five-mile roundtrip, so I had plenty of time to get there and back before afternoon photography time. The short distance also meant that I didn’t have to carry anything. Not only could I leave the camera pack and tripod behind, but I wouldn’t need any water, food, or extra clothes!

And what a joy this photography-free hike was! I covered ground quickly and efficiently, rock-hopping a small stream at one point. I arrived at my lake and found a nice boulder to sit on where I could enjoy the cool breeze, the sound, the solitude, and let my mind wander as I engaged in purposeful purposelessness for a while. Eventually, on almost no schedule, something told me it was time to head back so I did, perhaps enjoying my quicker passage back down the hill even more.

This was so much fun that I did almost the same thing the next day after finishing morning photography. I looked at a map and found another route that I had never hiked before — one that went close to an area I knew to be quite beautiful but which I could easily complete between morning and evening photography. This time I “cheated,” carrying a small fanny pack with a water bottle, a snack (it would be lunch time when I arrived at my destination) and a small camera.

Again, I moved lightly and quickly up a trail I would not have otherwise bothered with, in the process discovering one of the most beautiful corn lily patches I’ve seen in this part of the Sierra. (Note to photographer self: remember this spot!) My destination turned out to be full of other surprises. It was a wonderful example of my favorite Sierra landscape, rock and boulder dotted open meadow at timberline with small trees and tarns and a little lake, plus an unanticipated view back to Yosemite’s highest summit and surrounding peaks.

I arrived at the endpoint of the hike, found a bit of shelter from the cold wind behind some rocks, and sat down to drink some water, eat my snack, and simply ponder. I met a European couple who had, more or less by chance, ended up in this same sublime location, and we stopped and chatted for a bit. Then I continued on back to my starting point.

You might wonder how in the world this helps my photography. It helps. In many ways. On a very practical level, I’m always scouting, filing away places and scenes and ideas, and I certainly did that on these walks. In addition, I believe that knowing my subject is critical, and while using a camera to look at my subjects reveals important things about them, the camera can also  be a barrier. Experiencing the thing without the camera in hand will, I’m sure, help me see more clearly when I do carry the camera.

And, yes, I did bring back a few photos from that second walk — all shot handheld while on the move, and all using the equivalent of a 50mm prime. I needed something to attach to this post, right?

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.
Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email

All media © Copyright G Dan Mitchell and others as indicated. Any use requires advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.