Landscape photographers are storytellers.
As artists, we use the tools of light and location to convey scenes of stunning natural beauty. Or moments of calm. Or flashes of awe.
It’s our responsibility to take viewers on a visual journey—for them to feel something.
But often, as many of my peers know all too well, the final image rarely conveys the full story.
Untold are the hours of location scouting and weather watching. The overgrown paths and slick coastal rock shelves we traverse. The sunsets that promise so much, only to fizzle out just before showtime.
Yet the fleeting few seconds when all the elements align remind us why we embarked on this endeavour in the first place.
Those trials and tribulations are integral to the pursuit of landscape photography.
So I thought I’d peel back the curtain to reflect on how a few of my favourite photos came together. And share some helpful tips with you along the way.
So let’s get started with a post-storm sunset that exploded across the sky.
1. Bathed in Light
Location: The Grampians, Victoria
Gear: Sony A7RIII + Sony 16-35mm f/2.8 @16mm
Settings: ISO 800 • f/16 • 1/3 sec
The story
Since relocating to Melbourne a few years ago, The Grampians has become one of those locations that I’ve returned to time and again. And this sunset remains my most memorable experience there.
Not just for the explosion of colour. But because this image was taken in March 2020—on my last free weekend before the pandemic swept through our lives.
The weather forecast showed a dense cold front set to roll through before dusk.
I ventured out to Reed Lookout to find a storm brewing, with gusts sending the clouds streaming overhead. After scoping the cliff for a potential composition, I found an outcrop of exposed granite which formed a natural V shape in the foreground.
I used a wide-angle lens to emphasise the natural framing and set my tripod in position ready to go. Time to watch and wait.
Moments later, the light fell and the front passed through on time—bringing the rain and the cold with it.
Exposed on the cliff top, I draped a jacket over my gear and used my body as a shield to guard against the rain blowing in from the west. (As the rain was near horizontal, I managed to keep the camera mostly dry. But I couldn’t quite say the same for my clothes, though.)
After a healthy drenching, the storm continued on its way eastward and the clouds began to lift—revealing a sliver of open sky to the west.
As the sun set it broke through the gap. The clouds above ignited in a spectacular display, producing some of the deepest reds I’ve seen in all my years photographing sunsets.
With my shot already composed and ready, I fired off a few frames before the sun dipped below the horizon. The drive home was a wet one, but after looking at those shots on the back of my camera, it did little to dampen my spirits.
The tip
While widespread rain and thick clouds will block any decent light, take a look at the BOM rain radar before you pack up and head home.
If, instead of patches of rain, you see a narrow band sweeping across the area, there’s a chance that the front could be followed by clear skies.
With clear skies in the west and the tail-end of the storm lingering overhead, you could be in for one very special sunset indeed. (And as an added bonus, the wet rocks will even glisten and radiate in the reflected light.)
Sometimes, the worst weather produces the best photos.
2. Golden Glow
Location: Yarra Ranges, Victoria
Gear: Sony A7RIII + Sigma 24-70mm f/2.8 @41mm
Settings: ISO 800 • f/8 • 1/60 sec
The story
Middle Earth or the Yarra Ranges?
I had set off before dawn to photograph the temperate rainforest of the Yarra Ranges. Only to find the way to my hike padlocked and closed for winter.
With daybreak fast approaching, I took a gamble on an unexplored expanse of native forest. Not knowing what I’d find, I slipped on my gumboots and pushed through the undergrowth.
And what a scene I stumbled on. Ancient beech trees. And lush ferns sprouting in every direction across the forest floor.
Within minutes of arriving the rising sun began to poke through a clearing to the east. Soon the morning mist began to glow. First in a deep scarlet, then shifting to a golden haze that illuminated the grove of trees.
Landscape photographers, myself included, often boast about stunning sunrises and surreal scenes. But in that moment, I found myself overwhelmed with pure awe at the beauty unfolding around me.
I composed myself to fire off a few frames—making sure to boost the ISO and shutter speed to freeze the branches and ferns swaying in the breeze.
And now that I’ve found this enchanted expanse of forest, I’m eager to return, perhaps with fog drifting through the trunks. Stay tuned.
The tip
When photographing forest scenes, I used to avoid shooting during cloudless skies. The bright sun would create harsh patches of white highlights and black shadows.
But after photographing the bush in more weather conditions, I’ve since changed my view.
Now my favourite conditions to photograph the Australian bush are either side of sunrise and sunset on a clear day when golden light floods through.
The sun’s lower angle helps to soften the rays. Plus if there’s any moisture in the air, you’ll be greeted to brilliant sunbeams streaking through the trees.
And be sure to explore angles where the sun is just out of frame. The sidelight will create a pleasing glow while adding shape and depth to an otherwise two-dimensional image.
3. Frozen in Time
Location: The Grampians, Victoria
Gear: Sony A7RIII + Sony 70-200 GM f/2.8 @165mm
Settings: ISO 100 • f/20 • 1/4 sec
The story
When I started out in landscape photography, I’d chase epic sunrises and sweeping vista views. But over time, I’ve become equally lured towards smaller scenes. Like colourful strips of bark. Textured rock fissures. And the ever-variable flow of water.
On my many trips out to The Grampians, I had not previously visited MacKenzie Falls. So to learn more about this unfamiliar location, I delved through Google Maps and Instagram to research the walk and potential vantage points.
I found an impressive array of silky smooth long exposures. And even a few images taken at night with the Milky Way setting behind the cliff.
But with each image I saw, I was drawn to the more intricate details hidden within the larger falls. I was less impressed by the size of falls—Victoria’s largest—and more so by the interplay of rock, water and light.
So when I arrived on location, I left my wide-angle lens in the car and set out instead with my 70-200mm telephoto lens.
While only being able to rely on the zoom lens was challenging at first, I soon began to notice frames within the falls.
Perched on the hillside with my tripod, my mind’s eye would isolate cascade after cascade. And after sniping off hundreds of frames, this was my pick of the day.
The tip
When it comes to photographing waterfalls, your first instinct might be to slow the exposure down to around one second. To create that smooth, dreamy long exposure effect.
But if you want to evoke a more dynamic feeling of energy and motion, mix things up with different shutter speeds.
Your usage here will vary depending on:
The rate of water flow
Your distance to the water
The effect you’re seeking to create
I’ve found that a shutter speed of ¼ to ⅛ seconds is a good starting point. I can then review the streaks on the back of my camera and dial in slower or faster speeds as needed.
4. Cathedral of Light
Location: Kiama, NSW
Gear: Sony A7RIII + Sony 16-35mm f/2.8 @16mm
Settings: ISO 100 • f/11 • 1/2 sec
The story
Awoken by the 6am alarm, I stumble out of bed to check the eastern sky. It’s almost clear. Almost.
There’s a small cloud cluster to the south. Nothing to the north, nothing out to sea, nothing above. Oh well, I think. I’m already up; let’s take a look.
I set off down the highway to Kiama. Looking out the car window, the cluster hasn’t moved. There’s no wind and it seems to remain in place, suspended in the sky. This sunrise could be on.
I drive a little faster, using all of the available speed limit. As I pull up to the beach car park, the underside of the clouds begins to lighten. This is on.
Moving not-so-gracefully with my camera and tripod across the beach, I navigate the tidal channels, waiting for each wave to rush up and recede.
I settle in close to the boulders at the base of the rock shelf.
To emphasise the wave action I position the tripod in the water, driving each leg into the sand to keep it stable.
The camera’s less than a foot above water level. And even less when the waves rush around me.
The clouds do their thing. And I capture what has become my favourite seascape scene to date.
The tip
Incoming waves crash over rocks, swirl around and then rush back out to sea.
And in the process, a practically infinite range of patterns and streaks form in the water. Then disappear, never to materialise in quite the same way again.
Thankfully with digital photography and ridiculously cheap storage, we have the luxury to fire off unlimited frames throughout the process.
You never quite know which fleeting wave motion will be the most appealing. So set a cable release to take several shots with each wave.
Personally, I find cable releases a bit cumbersome, particularly with my tendency to move and reset the tripod throughout a shoot.
Instead, I engage my camera’s intervalometer. So that when I press the shutter, it takes a new frame each second for however long I like. The duration doesn’t really matter. But frame three or seven could just be the perfect one.
5. Return to the Wild
Location: Yarra Ranges, Victoria
Gear: Sony A7RIII + Sony 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 @102mm
Settings: ISO 200 • f/16 • 1/8 sec
The story
It’s late spring, but you wouldn’t know it. Pockets of fog drift through the forest and the leaf litter squelches underfoot.
I’ve set off down a new firetrail in the Yarra Ranges. And without a soul in sight, the entire forest becomes my personal photographic playground.
A patch of fog rolls across the hillside. The clouds part, and the sun pierces through to strike the trees and frame the path ahead.
I position the tripod on a slight rise to look down onto the scene, using my telephoto lens to compress the trail ahead of me. Click.
Unfurling tree ferns. Drifting fog. Towering trunks. Golden sunbeams.
It doesn’t matter if I’m visiting a stretch of forest for the tenth time or the first. I’m in my element—where I feel inspired to create.
To chase the light as it passes through the trees. To clamber up the side of a gully to explore new angles. And to wander down side paths not entirely sure what awaits.
The tip
My final tip is to explore beyond the conventional sights.
That doesn’t mean you should go bush bashing for days on end or risk your safety on the edge of a precarious cliff.
But do make time to explore—not knowing what you may find. Give yourself the time and freedom to wander, contemplate and create.
To spark that sense of wonder again. Embrace that childlike sense of pure delight at pushing beyond the well-worn path and discovering something new.
Not every trip to an unfamiliar location will result in a new addition to your portfolio. But that only makes it more rewarding when it does. When you can see and capture something unique.
So be safe. Take water, food and ideally a friend—particularly if it’s the first time you want to explore a new area. And let people know where you’re going.
But go on. Get out there!
And give yourself the freedom to have fun again.