Seb Rogers: mountain bike photography

The most expensive 7mm in the world

As far as what passes for the 'debate' surrounding 'full frame' dSLRs is concerned, I've always been a mildly disinterested observer. Given that 35mm still cameras evolved out of a pre-existing movie standard (and that the first examples were widely derided as being too small for 'serious' use), I've never really understood what all the fuss was about.*

So much so, that when Nikon announced the FX-format (oh, ok, 'full frame' if you insist) D3 and the DX-format (1.5x 'crop', though it's not really a crop at all) D300, it was the smaller, lighter, cheaper D300 that interested me. And when I had the opportunity to try them at a pre-launch demo, I left my co-photographers drooling over the D3 and spent some time getting acquainted with the D300.

So how on earth did one of these behemoths...

...find its way into my camera bag last week? Given that I had no intention of buying a D3, I'm still pretty surprised myself. But it all makes sense, kinda. See, it's like this...

There's absolutely no doubt that the D300 fulfils nearly all of my needs. The trouble is, I've been yearning for a fast ultra-wide for a while. My faithful 12-24mm f/4 gave me the equivalent of an 18mm in 35mm terms, but its wide-open performance wasn't exactly stellar. So I replaced it with the 14-24mm f/2.8 in spite of some misgivings about its size, weight, price (and, after a few weeks' use, its practicality in wet conditions).

The new lens is astoundingly good, concerns about that vulnerable front element notwithstanding. Several reviews have called it the best ultra-wide ever made and, whilst I'm not in a position to agree or disagree, it is quite obscenely sharp.

But.

There's always a 'but', isn't there? And the 'but' in this case is that it only gives me 21mm-worth of width, in 35mm terms, on the D300. That's a big difference from 18mm equivalent, and a world away from the 17mm that I used to have with my old film cameras (1mm might sound like a trivial amount, but at the wide end it makes a noticeable difference to angle of view).

So I've been looking for a way to get that width back. But none of the alternatives for the D300 looked like they'd give me both the speed and quality that I wanted... and all of them pre-supposed that I was happy adding a second wide lens. Which seemed, quite frankly, a bit daft.

In the thick of the action at 12mm (18mm equivalent) on the D200
Nikon D200, 12-24mm f/4, 1/250sec f/8 @ ISO100, two radio slaves

And then the bottom fell out of the D3's price (well, OK, it dropped by a bit over 10%), and suddenly a 'what if?' thought popped into my head. What if I had a full frame camera? I'd be able to make full use of the 14mm of my lovely new lens, that's what. Wider than a very wide thing. And my plastic had hit the counter before you could say 'that's a lot of money for 7mm'.**

Which, of course, it is. But I've always been a fan of ultra-wides. The 17-35mm f/2.8 (which I still own) was semi-permanently attached to the front of my F5 and F6, and spent much of its life at the widest setting. Being able to shoot at 14mm is going to open up a whole world of new possibilities - and to that extent, at least, I'm beginning to understand some of the 'full frame' fuss. I still don't really care what the dimensions of the sensor are - but I do like the fact that I can go that wide with a seriously sharp, fast lens.

Sometimes you can't walk back any further and just need to fit more in...
Nikon D2X, 12-24mm f/4, 1/250sec f/6.3 @ ISO200

I'm confident that the combination of D3 and 14-24mm f/2.8 will allow me to get shots that I couldn't otherwise capture. Whether my bank manager is as impressed is, of course, an entirely different matter. Best start earning some money with it, then...

* In fact I've been watching Olympus's 4/3 format with interest for a few years. Ditching 35mm legacy standards makes a lot of sense, given all the problems everyone else has had with chromatic aberrations and the like. Olympus has some of the best lenses out there, period, and I might have been tempted to switch were it not for the fact that the 4/3 aspect ratio doesn't sit well with European A-format paper sizes.

** UK-based riders who've been around long enough may recall the Hairsine ratio. Named after rider, inveterate weight-weenie and occasional writer Jon Hairsine, it was intended to indicate the value for money of bike components in terms of the weight they'd shave per £ spent. The equivalent here would be width gained (in mm) per £ spent. Hmm, let's see. I've gone from 21mm to 14mm at a cost of... eeek!

From the horse's mouth

Joe McNally is a living photography legend, if you'll pardon the hyperbole. With decades of experience shooting for the kind of titles to whom most photographers would happily donate at least one limb in exchange for a commission, there's no doubting his talent. He's also one of the rare breed of photographers who can both write - his blog's well worth a visit - and has a sense of humo(u)r.

Joe's new book, The Moment it Clicks, has just landed on my doormat. At just shy of £30 it's expensive for a middling-sized softback with ok-ish print quality, but forget about all that value for money stuff. In terms of content it's probably one of the best photography books I've ever seen.

Think of it like this: over 200 pages of world-class, inspirational images... each one accompanied by a comprehensive back-story explaining the background and technicalities behind it. What makes this book different from so many others that have tried the same trick is both Joe's breadth and depth of experience, and, crucially, his humo(u)r-filled delivery. I've never read a photographic technique book before that made me laugh out loud. Here's an excerpt:

'No matter how much crap you gotta plow through to stay alive as a photographer, no matter how many bad assignments, bad days, bad clients, snotty subjects, obnoxious handlers, wigged-out art directors, technical disasters, failures of the mind, body, and will, all the shouldas, couldas, and wouldas that befuddle our brains and creep into our dreams, always remember to make room to shoot what you love. It's the only way to keep your heart beating as a photographer'.

Most photography books risk splitting into one of two camps: arty pretentiousness on the one hand, or nerdy technicality on the other. Joe's very personable approach brings photography back to where it should be - a very human endeavour.

Yep, I like it. A lot. If you're looking for inspiration and some technical hints to take your photography up a notch, I reckon it's money well spent.

Quantocks gallery

The Quantocks* is one of my favourite places to ride. From the point of view of coming back with good pictures, that's a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I have a good idea of where the best bits are. On the other hand, my memories of countless great rides tend to inflate my image expectations to unrealistic levels. I'm my own worst enemy...

Still, my recent two-day shoot for What Mountain Bike's new 14-page route guide yielded a bumper crop of pictures that are probably some of my best to date from this location. Here's a small selection with a loose stream crossing theme (water is to the Quantocks what ladder drops are to the North Shore). For more, check out the May 2008 issue of the mag.

Nikon D300, 14-24mm f/2.8, 1/250sec f/7.1 @ ISO200, single radio slave

Nikon D300, 14-24mm f/2.8, 1/125 sec f/5.6 @ ISO400, single radio slave

Nikon D300, 10.5mm f/2.8 (corrected for distortion in Capture NX), 1/250sec f/5.6 @ ISO200, single radio slave

* Reading this outside the UK and never heard of it? I'm not surprised. The Quantocks is a small range of hills in the southwest of the UK overlooking the Bristol Channel. The Alps they most certainly aren't, but the singletrack's world class.

Cover: What Mountain Bike May '08

What Mountain Bike's new 14-page route guide premiers in the latest issue, and this cover - shot in Smith's Combe in the Quantocks - was intended to highlight that fact. Smith's, for the uninitiated, is a roller-coaster singletrack descent with multiple stream crossings. In other words, the archetypal Quantocks riding experience: fast, swoopy, huge fun and intermittently extremely wet.

Nikon D300, 14-24mm f/2.8, 1/400 sec f/7.1 @ ISO200, two radio slaves

I knew exactly where I wanted to take the shot, and I also knew that it only has sun on it until around midday at this time of year (Smith's is north-facing and there's a big stand of conifers shadowing this particular stream in the afternoon). What I'd forgotten was that I'd be shooting directly into the light.

The sun is over Cass's right shoulder and in-shot in the original - it was, to say the least, a harsh test of the 14-24's ability to cope with flare. It passed, although not without the need for a little Photoshop time to remove some of the worst flare spots. Still, that's an impressive performance from such a complex wide lens.

Can't say the same for the photographer, unfortunately, who made a fundamental cover-shot error. The riding kit that had been ordered in especially for this shoot hadn't turned up (it eventually arrived a few days later), so we improvised from what we had available. I wanted to avoid both red and blue, on the basis that those were the colours that had featured on the previous two covers, so we settled on a neutral light grey.

Oops. I've made that mistake before and paid the price. Note to self: avoid 'dull' colours at all costs. The Photoshop gurus were kept busy giving Cass a fetching turquoise top and I've given myself a slap on the wrist...

Free country?

It seems to depend on whether you're wielding a camera, or not. There's been a fair bit of media interest recently in cases where photographers - often amateurs - have been unlawfully moved on, detained or had their equipment confiscated.

If you ever take photos (or video) in public places in the UK, this short film is essential viewing:

Off the wall

Over the past five years I've used the purpose-built trails at Cwm Carn in south Wales countless times - both to ride and as a location for shoots. Here, for example, is a cover shot at Cwm Carn. And there's another here. Oh, and another one. Er, and one more.

It's versatile like that. Rideable in all weathers with a huge variety of trail surfaces and backdrops, it's a great backup option when most UK trails are six inches deep in slurry. It's also great to ride, particularly now that the natural vegetation has had a chance to grow back and blend the hand-cut trail back into the land.

Nikon D200, 12-24mm f/4, 1/80sec f/5.6 @ ISO100, single radio slave

I like it a lot as a place, so when the council-run visitor centre re-opened recently with some very blank-looking walls in the cafe, I offered to fill them with a few prints. Hand-printed and hand-framed with natural oak, I'm quite pleased with them - and it's a good opportunity to give something back in a small way to a place that's helped me out so much over the years.

Next time you're there for a ride, pop in for a cup of tea and check them out.

You mean there's more to Photoshop than the clone tool?

Photoshop's wonderful. Oh yes.

(Raised a smile? See more Whattheduck shenanigans here...)

Payback time

Apparently I've developed a bit of a reputation - and not necessarily the right kind. Fellow blogger and rider Cass Gilbert commented on a shoot recently that he enjoyed reading my occasional rants. Erm, excuse me? Oh, he must've meant this one. Or maybe this one. And, er, this one (which is probably my favourite because it contains a video clip of someone else out-ranting yours truly, for a change).

Ah. Oh. Oops.

Well, I'm glad that it's entertaining. But here's the thing: photography as a viable business has never been more threatened. I've covered some of the reasons for this state of affairs plenty of times before, but here's the short version: too many photographers with little or no understanding of copyright and licensing issues, all competing for exposure in a market increasingly populated by clued-up image buyers who exploit that ignorance.

It's worth repeating: copyright is a worldwide legal convention that allows photographers - whether amateur or pro - to control how, where and when their work is used. It's yours, automatically. You don't have to - and nor should you - relinquish the rights to your images in return for nothing. But that won't stop some unscrupulous organisations from trying.

No, it's not because they generously want to give you a rosy glow of satisfaction from seeing your work used. It's because they can make money out of it. And by persuading you to hand over the rights to your images, they don't have to give a penny of that money back to you.

There are signs, though, that the tide may be turning. Pro-Imaging, a mailing list group for pros, has launched a campaign aimed at naming and shaming rights-grabbing photo competitions. There's a wealth of other useful information on the site too, including a very good explanation of why you should steer clear of these contests.

Current worst offender on the rights-grabbing comp front is a setup I've written about before. The rules of this competition are so mind-bendingly biased agasint the photographer that I'm staggered anyone bothers to enter, but judging by the competition site's front page there are plenty of people willing to hand over their intellectual property in exchange for, well, nothing at all. Go figure.

Second site to attempt to shift the balance back in favour of photographers is a new spin-off of pro photographer group EPUK. Copyright Action is a site that aims to collect all the information photographers need about copyright and licensing in one place. There's information about how copyright works, a forum to report instances of copyright abuse or rights-grabbing, an FAQs section and, well, just about everything you're likely to need to know.

Copyright and licensing issues aren't exactly sexy, but it's never been more important to be clued up. Because if you aren't, and your images ever make it off your hard drive out into the real world, you're at risk of being ripped off. Pro or amateur, it makes no difference - someone out there wants the rights to your images, and they don't want to pay you anything at all for them.

Here endeth today's rant...

The only D300 review you need to read

... is here. If you've been sitting on the fence wondering whether or not to buy, Thom's down-to-earth approach will help you make the decision, one way or the other. There's a lot of it and you'll need some time to read and digest it, but - as usual - it's worth the effort.

If it's got pedals...

Variety is good. Recently I had the chance to shoot stills and video for the launch of Vibe's new Turbo Twist - a Green Machine derivative that combines Formula One-inspired gokart looks with pedal power and joystick controls. The Turbo Twist's sole purpose in life is big skids, big slides and big grins... and who can argue with that?

(Thanks to Matt Skinner for his invaluable video editing skills. And no thanks to the British weather, for turning the video shoot into a time-pressured, wet and cold experience. No surprises there, then...)

Nikon D300, 14-24mm f/2.8, 1/250sec f/7.1 @ ISO200, single radio slave

(Oops. Google video seems to have converted the original widescreen 16:9 format into a standard 4:3. I'm not sure why this is - if you want to see the video as it should look check out the Turbo Twist website.)

Farmer Jack vs the Athertons

This made me chuckle, so I thought I'd post it by way of a little light relief on a Monday morning. You never know when you might discover an unknown talent...

Gear gotchas

Once you've spent a bit of time with any camera system, it's easy to get to know its little idiosyncracies. I've shot Nikon since 1989, so I've got used to the button-and-dial interface and, on the whole, I like it a lot. There are a few niggles that crop up from time to time, like the tendency for the autofocus switch to get knocked out of position once in a while (though the D300 does seem to be a bit better in this regard than earlier Nikons - finally!) or the irritating quirk of the D300 and D200 battery to go on strike occasionally. But, for the most part, familiarity breeds contentment.

The trouble is, no matter how much experience you have (or how much you research a new purchase), there's always the unforeseen gotcha that can catch you out. Take, for example, my new 14-24mm f/2.8. I'd been dithering about whether or not to buy this lens for a while... and recently I decided that the only way to make a decision, one way or the other, was to go ahead and give it a try. Compared to my trusty 12-24mm f/4, which it replaces, the differences seemed obvious:

I like:

- the wider aperture. The new lens is useably sharp right up to wide open, giving me up to 2 stops extra leeway for low light or restricting depth of field
- the quality. Can you say sharp? Whilst the 12-24 is no slouch, the 14-24 is bitingly crisp

I don't like:

- the weight. No two ways about it, there's a lot of glass in the new lens - and I can feel the difference carrying it about
- the size. It's long and wide, too, taking up more space in my bag

A couple of months of use out in the real world has just confirmed these initial impressions. But it's also thrown up a completely unexpected one out of the blue. The huge front element - nearly 100mm, or 4 inches, in diameter - is particularly prone to getting mud or water splashes on it.

It doesn't stay this clean for long when the spray's flying...

Sound obvious? Well, I'm used to getting in close to the action with a wide lens, but the smallish front element of the 12-24mm didn't seem to need too much in the way of regular cleaning. My 14-24mm, on the other hand, has needed a careful and thorough clean after almost every shoot - and sometimes after every shot, when there's been a fair bit of water thrown about.

The reason, when I stop and think about it, is fairly obvious. There must be somewhere between 4 and 8 times the surface area of glass (I'm guesstimating) on the front of the 14-24mm, compared with the far more discrete 12-24mm - a factor both of its wider aperture and the fact that it covers a full 35mm frame. Given a certain density of water or mud droplets in the air, that translates to between 4 and 8 times the number of resulting splashes landing on the glass surface.

It makes the sensibly sealed-against-water-ingress mount look a bit redundant, since if there's enough water about to make the lens/camera interface vulnerable the front element will long since have been completely covered in water droplets. Worse, zooming from 14mm to 24mm pulls water out of the serrations in the built-in hood, where it tends to settle, into the lens' innards. I know, because I've been there.

I tend to subscribe to the view that less cleaning, in the long run, is better than more. Paranoid lens polishing is far more likely to result in long-term damage (in the form of scratches and hazing) than any noticeable increase in image quality. Having said that, ultra-wide lenses are particularly prone to showing blobs of water or dust on the front element in the image. There's a compromise to be struck, but so far the 14-24mm is forcing me to clean more often than I'd like.

Whether this is largely because I've been shooting in wet and muddy conditions a fair bit lately remains to be seen. But stockpiling supplies of lens cleaning fluid and PecPads certainly wasn't what I had in mind when I bought it. The jury's still out on this lens.

Cover: MBUK April '08

One of the most important skills for an editorial photographer is to be able to shoot, when asked, to a particular style... or at least to be able to stick tightly to a brief. Nowhere is this more important than for a magazine cover - which, from a publisher's perspective, is a vital tool to signal that mag's position against its rivals in the fiercely competitive free-for-all of newsstand-driven sales. Thought mountain bike mag cover pics were just shots of someone riding a bike? Ah, well... see where you're going wrong there...

Nikon D300, 14-24mm f/2.8, 1/500 sec f/8 @ ISO200, two radio slaves

Two of my biggest editorial clients, What Mountain Bike and Mountain Biking UK, are owned by the same publisher. Although there's obviously some crossover in content, they're fundamentally different products with their own marketing strategies, target demographic and... well, you get the idea. The important point about all this from a photography point of view is that the covers should look different.

MBUK covers have traditionally had a look that's very action-orientated, in-your-face and slightly aggressive. They are, quite frankly, huge fun to shoot. The new issue's cover features staff writer and talented all-round rider Doddy launching a small kicker into a berm. Doddy's always a pleasure to work with, knows exactly what's needed and keeps riding until it's done. The challenges of an MBUK cover are different from a lot of my other cover work, but I always enjoy them. Altogether now: "bwwaaaarp!"

Cranky

While I was in California last year shooting What Mountain Bike's March '08 cover and feature on the new Specialized S-Works FSR, I also had the opportunity to visit Laguna Beach-based component manufacturer Crank Brothers. What Mountain Bike had commissioned me to shoot a feature on the company, focussing on their radical new wheelset.

Nikon D2X, 85mm f/1.4, 1/125sec f/2.8 @ ISO400

Company profiles can be tough to shoot well, and Crank Brothers presents a particularly knotty challenge. It's a very design-focussed company - something that's obvious in everything from office decor and layout to the minimalist simplicity of their product range. Other magazines have featured the Crank setup before, but I wanted to do something different.

In typically quirky Crank Brothers fashion, the company's meeting room features a ping-pong table. It's been used in photoshoots before, but I noticed how the overhead fluorescent lights cast a particularly attractive soft light.

Fluorescent lights don't get a good press - they flicker, and if you don't get the white balance nailed they turn everything a nasty shade of green. But there was something about the light over the Crank boardroom table that was really attractive. So I asked for a big sheet of white paper, and set to making use of the Crank product lineup's bright colours and clean shapes:

Nikon D2X, 50mm f/1.8, 1/80sec f/2.8 @ ISO400

Nikon D2X, 50mm f/1.8, 1/80sec f/2.8 @ ISO400

All that was needed was a gentle white balance tweak during RAW processing, and I had the clean, high-end look I was after. And not a studio light in sight.

Cover: What Mountain Bike April '08

I love it when a plan comes together. For its April '08 issue What Mountain Bike wanted a big mountain, big travel bike cover shot. Thirty or so pounds of pimped-to-the-max, carbon-flavoured Scott Ransom was rustled up, a willing rider found... and then we started blatting location ideas around.

Nikon D300, 14-24mm f/2.8, 1/250sec f/5 @ ISO250, two radio slaves

It's hard to get the feeling of a big mountain trail without going to a mountain. The trouble is, the UK's lumpiest bits in January tend to be cloud-bound, windy, cold and inhospitable places. This is after all, in the unforgettable words of a well-known US mountain bike mag, a 'windswept, low altitude island in the North Sea'. Our mountains may not be large, but what they lack in altitude they're more than capable of making up for in lousy weather.

I was pretty sure that Snowdon's Ranger Path was the descent we needed. There's a section of the trail that zigzags down the ridgeline beneath the summit with a view of a lake below. It had all the elements we needed: technical trail, view, exposure. There was just one problem. The mountain weather forecast was predicting winds strong enough to blow us off the mountain and a double digit below zero windchill.

So we waited. I became an avid reader of the daily updates, watching the winds drop down the Beaufort scale and the temperatures climb. The cloud base remained stubbornly below summit level, but with a deadline looming we didn't have any choice. I settled for dry, cold and stable conditions with a cloud base around 850m and winds that weren't life-threatening.

The trail was everything we could have hoped for - a chute of randomly strewn rocks and ledges teetering on the edge of a steep drop to the lake below. We stayed 100m or so below the cloud base, Simon periodically blowing on his fingers to prevent them from turning numb in the cold. The blue sky? Er, it's not real. But we'll be back in the summer - it's too good a trail not to ride on a warm, sunny summer's evening...