By Michael Blumfield

With photography, there comes a time when students have to go it alone – no help from an instructor, reminding them of the fundamentals, making suggestions or offering encouragement. It’s just you – flying solo.

Unlike actual flying, there’s no real threat of bodily harm (unless you’re trying to take a selfie on the edge of a canyon.) But pride is on the line. You’re venturing out for a few hours to try something new. Worst case scenario: You cry yourself to sleep that night. Best case: You gain self-confidence and the eagerness to do more of it.

Here’s a story about one of my first solo flights when I tried something I’d never done before. I’d been studying photography with Boston Photography Workshops for a couple of years and had absorbed the major technical lessons plus some basics about composition and Lightroom. I was eager to replicate an effect I’d seen other photographers do – capturing the movement of water so it appears as a dreamlike blur.

First step: Pre-flight planning and checks

My research on the subject showed it required a tripod and neutral density filters to avoid blowouts. (They act essentially like sunglasses on your lens.) I had the tripod, but needed a couple of filters so ordered a cheap pair from Amazon – one rated as ND 3 (mild darkening) and the other as ND 10 (more severe darkening). The filters fit the small Micro 4/3rds lenses I had, which were the full-frame equivalents of 34mm and 15mm.

Now I just had to figure out if there was some place nearby to shoot that had, um, moving water. (Hey, I’m a Midwestern boy who hasn’t been here long.)

I considered Pebble Beach near Rockport and studied the crime reports: No recent murders. No crime sprees. No calls to the police complaining about annoying photographers on the beach. Bingo.

With charged batteries, a few SD cards, my mask, and a tank of gas, I was ready to ascend the 30 miles to the north. “Control tower! Request permission for take-off!” I said into an imaginary microphone. I couldn’t quite make out the response from the crabby dude in the tower, but I believe it was, “Yeah, whatever.”

Hitting some initial turbulence

I alighted near the beach, grabbed my gear, stayed clear of a few maskless groups of sunbathers, and plopped the tripod at the water’s edge. Using the ND 3 – the milder of the filters – with the 34mm, I got this shot.

“OH MY GOD! That’s HORRIBLE!” I said to myself. “I’m going to CRASH!” (Well, not really, but play along – it’s part of the flying solo metaphor.) Checking my equipment, I saw the shutter was only open for 2 seconds – that wasn’t going to be enough to get the moodiness I sought. Any more, though, and the shot would be too bright. What to do?

Suddenly, in my head I heard a voice – that of an overly patient dark-haired guy with glasses and a scruffy beard who was acting as an unseen flight instructor. “Pssst! Turn down the ISO to reduce the sensitivity.” When voices talk to me, I listen. Bumping down the ISO as low as it would go, I got this shot with a 20-second exposure.

Gaining elevation

Better, but still lacking. What about the ND 10 filter? Changing to that, I could shoot for even longer. I also thought I should get closer to the water and find a more interesting angle. The result was this 40-second shot:

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. But still not that great. Another unseen flight instructor from Boston Photography Workshops (it’s getting crowded in this imaginary cockpit) talked to me: “Don’t just stand there – move to another location!” I climbed over a seawall to a spot between rocks and put on the 15mm to get a wider view:

This was a 50-second shot and the water was looking like fog floating over the rocks. The sky was too bright, but the pretend co-pilots told me I could tamp it down in Lightroom. I grabbed a few more shots, then banked south toward home.

Touching down

At my desk, I played around with cropping and tweaking the colors and contrast and got this from the 50-second shot:

As someone described it later, it looked “like the end of the world.” Another shot and edits produced a variation that wasn’t so foreboding:

Planning future flights

Make no mistake: I don’t feel like I’m qualified to pilot much more than the photographic equivalent of a single-engine Cessna at the moment. It will take many more years of shooting and editing to feel confident I can control the more complex flight paths that advanced imagery requires.

But it turns out that the ethereal effect of moving water was much easier to achieve than I imagined, so other forms might not be too intimidating. And even if they were and my first attempts didn’t go anywhere, I’d survive.

It’s also reassuring to know – sort of — that those BPW flight instructors have taken root in my head. Their voices are always calm, reassuring and positive. But I do need to have a word with that crabby dude in the control tower.

Not quite ready to fly solo? No sweat—we’d love to be your co-pilot! Join us for an outdoor travel workshop to refine your skills and get ready to take off on your own future photo adventures!