The Kobuk river in the western Brooks range is designated a wild and scenic river. Last weekend was the first time I’ve flown over it, and it kindled an interest to make a river trip sometime in the near future. Break up this year along Alaska’s major river systems of the interior was relatively gentle, in comparison to other years when ice jams generated high water and floods throughout the Yukon river basin. While ice still filled the main channel of the Kobuk it was flowing without obstruction.

The dark and foreboding clouds looming over the hills makes for a moody scene, and it reminds me how much I like this type of lighting as opposed to a cloudless, blue sky day. Although, I would have to say that the blue sky days sure make flying a little more predictable. This particular plane was not outfitted with a window that opened enough for unobstructed photography, so I had to shoot through the glass, something I’m not keen to normally do. However, the glass was very clean, and the results are not bad. It made me think however, that some sort of black fabric, like the old large format photographers used to drape over their head, would be a way to minimize reflections on the glass. But you would have to figure some way to attach it just above the top of the window. Perhaps its time for a little duct tape and piece of black fabric, it could prove useful on the next bush flight–pending the pilots approval of course. . .

If you have been following my blog recently, you have seen a few images of my attempts of aerial photography in the Brooks range mountains of northern Alaska. My two trips prior to this one were confounded by the forest fire smoke that engulfed much of Alaska’s interior. Arranging and coordinating flying in accordance with the proper weather and lighting is tricky. It is further complicated by the distance between my home and this location, and the sheer vastness and weather variation of the region itself. Fortunately on this last trip, I was able to make two flights. The first one was touch and go, moving through rain showers and squalls, which produced some interesting lighting and mood, reflected in this photo of the Hammond river in the Gates of the Arctic National Park. The second trip, which was a bluebird, cloudless day, was by far less interesting. Contrary to what the average person thinks, a clear cloudless day is not the preferred scenario for a landscape photographer. Clouds obscure light, which introduce shadow and variation of tone–not total overcast clouds, but the type that let the light dance around them a bit. I was able to get a few good images on this trip but hope to be back there again in a week or so hoping for the seemingly elusive perfect conditions. Autumn and it’s richly colored landscape is under transformation right now, and one week’s more time should render it brilliant.

I flew with Coyote Air in a Dehavilland beaver with the door removed. Hooked in with a harness anchored to the seat mounts, it is a comfortable feel, even looking straight down at the radical landscapes below. As for my camera, I clip that into a shoulder harness made by Kinesis Gear, which has proved a valuable little piece of equipment not only for aerial photography work, but also to relieve the weight of heavy cameras hanging from my neck!

You might wonder why I shot this at ISO 800. I did so for the main reason of keeping the shutter speed high. Camera blur can creep in quite easily based on how much I have to torque and twist my body position, which sometimes makes me touch the frame of the plane, transferring engine vibration. Additionally, if the lens protrudes just a few inches into the draft of the open door, it will quickly generate wind vibration. Photographing while hanging out of the door of a plane sounds really cool, but because of the wind and vibration, it is not a very “true to the trade” concept. I must confess though, I bet it would be a rush indeed!

I spent 10 days on a river trip in Alaska’s arctic, beginning on the Nigu river, which means “rainbow” in Inupiaq. The Nigu flows north out of the Brooks Range, with its headwaters located in the Gates of the Arctic National Park. It then flows through the National Petroleum Reserve, where it joins the Etivluk river and eventually the Colville river.

River trips in the arctic are filled with adventure and epic wilderness vistas that are to my soul what a great breath of fresh air is to the lungs. Four of us, in two canoes began the trip on June 3, which is still early spring in the arctic. Green shoots and leaves were just beginning to emerge, and the river swelled with brown water from the melting mountainside drainages.

We flew to our destination with Coyote Air and used to two inflatable canoes to navigate the waters. Temperatures were cool, but not cold, and lots of sunshine warmed our happy faces. I’ll be posting a few images from that trip in the next few weeks.

I’ve long wanted to see and photograph the Arrigetch Peaks of the Brooks range, and a recent visit only increased my desire to return for a more thorough session. It’s a good 2 hours plus one way trip in a small plane north from Fairbanks, with plenty of weather and terrain to navigate along the way. For those who are not familiar with this wonderful sight, the Arrigetch Peaks are rugged granite spires in the central Brooks Range.

The name means ‘fingers of the outstretched hand’ in the Inupiat (eskimo) language. I can only imagine that their appearance is under constant change with lighting and season, making them a truly dynamic subject. Hopefully this summer, I can make another attempt, and time it for optimal lighting. Lots of variables need to line up in order for that to happen.