Seb Rogers: mountain bike photography

Summer shootin'

Summer finally appears to have arrived in the UK, so here are a few random tips for better sun-drenched riding shots:

- Ditch the shades
They may look cool, they may keep the bugs out of your eyes, but they screw up your perception of colo(u)r and contrast. And that's enough reason, if you're riding to shoot, to leave them at home - or at least in your Camelbak. Polarising or tinted lenses are the worst offenders, giving every landscape an almost ethereal glow that even the heaviest hand will find tough to emulate in Photoshop.

- Clean that sensor
Bright light means small apertures, big expanses of sky, and lots of potential for all the gunk that's accumulated on your sensor to ruin your shots. Not sure if your sensor needs cleaning? Stick a wide(ish) lens on, close down the aperture as far as it'll go and take a shot of empty sky. Now zoom in... see all those black spots? That's muck on your sensor. Not sure how to go about it? There's a good how-to here.

- Start early, finish late...
... and keep the camera in your bag in between. Harsh midday sun is the worst time to shoot, creating harsh shadows everywhere you don't want them (on your subjects' faces) and nowhere you do (everywhere else). Avoid shooting between 10 and 3 if you can. And if you can drag yourself out, absolutely the very best summer light is before 8 in the morning and after 5 in the afternoon.

- Work those speeds
Students on my photo courses will know that I advocate using the slowest practicable shutter speed in any given situation, so as to maintain at least some semblance of subject movement. In bright light that means keeping an eye on things to make sure that speeds don't creep to action-freezing levels, and working the aperture and ISO settings if necessary to keep everything where you want it.

- Ice cream and cameras don't mix
And not just for the obvious reasons. I suffered my most expensive equipment damage ever whilst buying an ice cream. My attention wandered (mmm.... sugar and carbs...), the lens I was holding slipped, I grabbed at it as it fell but oops! Too late... the 18 inch drop to the floor resulted in a £500 repair bill. Luckily my insurance picked up most of the tab, but filling in the claims form was interesting. 'What steps will you take to prevent a similar loss from occurring? Put any camera equipment I'm holding down before attempting to eat an ice cream...'

Don't just look. See.

There's some good stuff in the current issue of Digital Camera mag (see post below), including pages of down-to-earth action shooting advice from the likes of top sports photographers Bob Martin and Tom Jenkins. These guys are at the top of their game; it's worth paying attention to what they've got to say.

Here's a gem from Bob that caught my eye:

"Twenty years ago, if you got a shot of Linford Christie winning the 100 metres with his feet off the ground you were pretty good. Now with the autofocus the likes of Nikon and Canon have got, almost anyone can do that.

For example, I can sit down with one of my teenage sons and give them a half-hour lesson and they'll be taking action pictures.

So it's not good enough to turn up to an event and think I'm just here to get them flying through the air. Your shot needs to be more of a photographer's picture. The artistry is crucial - the fact that you shoot action is a secondary thing. A lot of sports photographers haven't caught onto that yet."

Bob Martin, in Digital Camera June 2008

He's right, you know...

Photo course 2008: the first batch

Update: booked on the May course? Don't worry - you didn't get the dates wrong! The April course was a late addition to cope with overwhelming demand. The May and October courses will run as usual.

The first 2008 photo course - in which half a dozen willing volunteers are subjected to a weekend of riding, photography, tea, cakes and beer - has been and gone. Despite biblical quantities of rain on the second day, the group came away with some memorable images.

Thanks to Mike Davis of Bikemagic for logistical support, pro elbows and unstinting enthusiasm... and to Alan, Chris, Dave, Gary, Richard and Sheldon for proving that it's possible to ditch the green square and get to grips with histograms, manual focus and panning techniques in just three days.

Canon 5d, 50mm, 1/250sec f/2.8 @ ISO800

Nikon D70, Sigma 10-20mm, 1/100sec f/5.6 @ ISO800, single on-camera flash

In case you're wondering... I'm afraid there are no more places available on the remaining two courses in 2008, and I already have a long reserve list. But if you'd like to add your name for a possible future course, drop me a line.

Confessions of an autofocus cynic (part 1)

Regular readers may have picked up on my casual disdain for most things automatic, and particularly autofocus. Sure, there have been occasions when it's saved my bacon. But for the most part, I've found it rarely lives up to the hype and almost always gets in the way.

I might - just might - have changed my mind, at least a little bit. Of which, more in part 2, to follow at a later date. But first, I thought it might be helpful to go into a bit more detail about why I've been so ready to switch off the result of decades of Japanese optical and electronic experience and resort to my left wrist to get things sharp.

There are, in my experience, two major problems with most autofocus systems. First, they tend not to be sensitive enough to focus on smallish, fairly distant subjects accurately, preferring on the whole to deliver crisp renditions of the background. That's a fairly major practical problem when you're shooting, say, distant riders with a longish lens at a wideish aperture. There's not enough depth of field to cover major focus errors, but it's also pretty hard to see on the screen when the riders are perfectly sharp (or not). The only solution has been to shoot plenty of manually focussed images, and check that at least a few of them are sharp.

(There's a related problem, which is that this lack of sensitivity to foreground subjects often means autofocus will 'see' through the holes in even a closer, larger bike and rider.)

Second, most autofocus systems are pretty dumb when it comes to following a moving subject across the frame. Whilst it's simple enough to get around the idiosyncracies of autofocus for straightforward shots by prefocussing manually, the type of situation where you might hope that all those clever algorithms would actually help - capturing a sequence of a rider negotiating an 'S' bend, for example - also tends to cause problems of the 'anything but the subject in focus' variety.

It's enough to drive a poor photographer to distraction, frankly.

Now, it may well be that my experience has been tainted by nearly 20 years of shooting Nikon. Canonistas, before they were shouting about full frame and low high ISO noise, tended to be a little smug about their brand's focus prowess. I don't know, frankly, but I suspect that the reality doesn't entirely match up to the hype. I know of pro Canon shooters who moan about their cameras' autofocus, just as I know Nikon shooters who are perfectly happy with theirs.

Still, I've often fallen for the autofocus hype of a 'new, improved' model... and almost always been disappointed. Here's a brief, affectionate history of the good, the bad and the ugly Nikon autofocus systems that I've tolerated over the years:

- c. 1989: Nikon F801
My first Nikon camera, and it still has a place in my 'spare' camera bag despite an autofocus system that's all but useless. Boasting a single, central sensor and originally launched with lenses featuring tiny, rattly manual focus rings, it would (eventually) rumble into focus... provided the subject in question sat still for long enough. Literally... because it couldn't cope with moving subjects.

- c. 1996: Nikon F90X
I dropped close to £1000 - a fortune in 1996 terms - on one of these, lured by the promise of its wide-area autofocus and compatibility with the newly-launched (and astronomically expensive) 'silent wave' lenses. Breathless reviewers compared its performance to the benchmark Canon EOS-1, but even after upgrading my trusty 80-200mm f/2.8 to the 'new' model (for a further £1100), I wasn't much closer to a system that worked. It'd follow a moving subject, just. But not in a way that was much use to me.

- c. 1997: Nikon F5
Taking a deep breath and shaking every last penny out of the piggy bank, I stumped up over £2000 for Nikon's EOS-1-beating F5. And discovered, at last, a system that worked. Kinda. It needed the new silent wave lenses to reap the maximum benefit, and its ability to track a subject moving across the frame was patchy, but at last I had something that almost delivered on its promises... just so long as the subject played nice and I put it near the middle of the frame.

- c. 2005: Nikon D2X
Nikon's D2 series promised a lot, with 9 cross-type sensors spread widely across the frame and some fancy new algorithms to keep track of errant subjects. Trouble is, I'd already experienced this system in the film-based F6, and the results weren't entirely encouraging. Although it was undeniably fast - and the central sensor was pretty accurate - it had a nasty tendency to 'see' beyond a subject and focus behind it. Small, distant subjects? Forget it.

- c.2006: Nikon D200
The D200's autofocus was, on paper, less impressive than the range-topping D2X. But, although it only had a single cross-type sensor and the outlying sensors didn't cover such a wide area, I soon found that it didn't have the D2's tendency to focus behind the main subject. At least, not to nearly the same extent. It isn't as sensitive as the D2X, but in the real world it's capable of equal or better accuracy.

Which brings us to the present day, and a re-evaluation of autofocus's usefulness in my day-to-day work. Why? Ah, well, that'll have to wait until part 2...

Autopilot

I've been pretty dismissive about autofocus in the past, but not without good reason. Like any of the 'auto' options on modern cameras, autofocus can make photographers lazy, 'see' the wrong bits of the subject and get the focus completely wrong, or just throw a hissy fit and refuse to work. Autofocus is clever stuff, but it's not magic and it can't make up for a photographer's technical shortcomings.

Nikon D200, 200mm f/2, 1/500 sec f/2 @ ISO800

There are times, however, when AF is just wonderful. If there's no chance of getting a shot by focussing manually, sometimes it's worth trying the autofocus route just to see what happens.

I found myself in just such a situation recently. Crappy light, fast-moving subject, no chance of grabbing a shot manually. The light was so low, in fact, that even the normally competent AF of my D200 was struggling, but I figured I had a better chance with it than without. My 200mm was cranked wide open to f/2, I was on ISO800 and was just about squeezing 1/500 sec shutter speed out of the dim, overcast day. And I got this shot, which turned up as a full bleed contents page background in Februarys' What Mountain Bike.

It's only fair to point out that I shot a sequence, of which fewer than half were critically sharp. But I don't care, because this one is perfect - and I couldn't have shot it any other way. There's so little depth of field that the handlebars are in focus and the bottom bracket is out of focus. Way out, in fact. Here's an unsharpened 100% crop:

There's always the exception that proves the rule, and I suppose this is it. Those 'auto' functions do have a use, after all.

Colo(u)r woes

Pre-digital, photographers didn't have to worry too much about colour. Clever scientists at Fuji, Kodak and Agfa sweated the details about converting photons into silver halide crystals, whilst semi-automated processing and printing machines ensured that our images were, for the most part, a passable facsimile of the world beyond our lens.

Not any more.

One of the little-noticed side-effects of the digital revolution has been a dramatic shift in responsibility for output quality from third parties (film manufacturers, processing labs) to the photographer. Even when you click on 'print' and send an image to your desktop inkjet, or upload a batch of images for an online processor to do the printing for you, you're making choices about how your pictures will turn out. The question is, do you know what those choices are, and do you know how to control them? If your prints often don't match your computer monitor, chances are the answers to both those questions are 'no'.

Nikon guru Thom Hogan has just posted a very good, extremely thorough summary of the ins and outs of digital colour management. To which I can only add, if you're even remotely concerned with the output quality of your dSLR, you should invest in a good (i.e. not the cheapest, or even close to the cheapest) monitor and, just as important, a monitor profiling kit.

Here endeth today's sermon...

Photo courses 2008: dates for your diary

Update, Friday 9th November: both courses are fully booked, although there are a couple of places left on the October reserve list.

After a great deal of juggling of dates and logistics, I've finally settled on two sets of dates for my 2008 photo courses in conjunction with Bikemagic.

The bad news is that the first course in May is already fully booked. I thought it only fair to give people on my mailing list who missed out this year first refusal on the first available date next year... and the result was that all the places have been snapped up. The good news is that there are still places available on the second course in October.

I'll also be running a reserve list (up to a maximum of two places) for both courses. If you've missed out on a place but would like to know if one becomes available, just tell me and I'll let you know on a first come, first served basis.

COURSE DETAILS

This year's course was a huge success*, so I'll be using the same formula (with some minor tweaks) for next year. The location proved particularly popular:

- fantastic, bike-friendly b&b with secure overnight bike storage, a communal lounge for post-ride slideshows and tea and cake in quantities large enough to satisfy mountain bikers' appetites
- ride from the front door onto the trails
- superb Quantock singletrack
- 10 minute walk to the village pub, which serves excellent food

- price: £350 p/p
- each course limited to 6 places
- price includes: photo instruction, guided riding, b&b accommodation on Friday and Saturday nights, packed lunch on Saturday and Sunday, afternoon tea and cake on Friday, Saturday and Sunday
- price excludes: lunch on Friday; evening meal on Saturday and Sunday

* you can read some first-hand experiences of the 2007 course here.

2008 COURSE DATES

Friday May 16th 12pm - Sunday May 18th 4pm: fully booked; reserve list closed

Friday October 3rd 12pm - Sunday October 5th 4pm: fully booked; reserve list open

BOOKING

- a deposit of £100 secures a place
- (for October 2008 bookings) places paid for in full by the end of December 2007 qualify for a 10% early booking discount, bringing the total price down to £315
- (for May 2008 bookings) balances are due by March 21st 2008
- (for October 2008 bookings) balances are due by August 8th 2008
- payment can be made by cheque, Paypal or bank transfer - please let me know which method you'd prefer

Photo courses 2008: work in progress

If you're waiting patiently for news of my 2008 photo courses (I know there's a handful of you out there), the good news is that I have one set of dates pinned down. The bad news is that, in my quest to run two courses, the second set of dates is proving more elusive.

I don't really want to release details until both sets of dates are ready to go, so I'm going to have to ask you to indulge me for a little while longer. I'm on the case and hope to have everything sorted out very soon...

From the horse's mouth

Whilst posting this link is in some ways (oh, ok, in all ways imaginable) a bit of shameless self-promotion*, Alex Leigh's account of my recent photo course is worth 10 minutes of anyone's time. Honest.

Betterer

One of the things that constantly amazes me - and keeps me coming back for more - is how much I'm still learning, more than a quarter of a century after picking up my first camera. Digital has probably helped this process, not only because there's been a whole raft of new skills to learn and graft onto the basic photographic know-how I already had, but because the mechanics of shooting raw has forced me to analyse and refine my technique like nothing before. On the odd occasions when I have to trawl through my film archives for a slide to scan, I'm often amazed that quality that I was happy with five years ago simply wouldn't pass muster today.

The reason this process is working is simple: I'm my own harshest critic. It's partly my nature, and partly a conscious commercial decision: better that I split hairs with my work and improve my technique than let my clients do it for me (and find a reason not to hire me next time around). I have to keep improving; my competitors certainly are.

But there's a lot to be said for being self-critical even if you don't sell your pictures for a living. Want to improve your photography? Here are a few ideas to get you started:

1. Sharpness matters
The single most common flaw I see in other people's pictures is that they're not sharp enough. If you're shooting a moving subject, it's even more important that the main point of interest is critically sharp. With bike shots that's usually the rider's face: if you can keep that sharp, the rest of the shot can be a blurry mess and you'll get away with it. So use your camera's display to zoom in and have a close look. Is the rider's face sharp? No? Why not? Did you focus in the right spot? Shutter speed too low? Panning technique not up to scratch? Figure it out, then try it again.

You won't be able to see it at web resolution, but the only thing that's critically sharp in this shot is the rider's eyes. And that's all that's needed.
Nikon D2X, 12-24mm f/4, 1/80sec f/6.3 @ ISO100, single radio slave

2. It's not about the gear
I'm as guilty as the next photographer of fetishising gear. But all I really need to get the job done is a camera and lens that functions. All the rest, whether it's water-resistant build quality or fast, expensive lenses, just help maximise my chances of the best possible results in the widest possible range of conditions, because sometimes I can't be choosy. But all cameras, whether they cost £300 or £6000, are just light-tight boxes with a hole in one end. If you feel your pictures are lacking that indefinable something, don't 'upgrade'. Buy a book, go on a course, set yourself some goals, and get the best out of what you already own first. *

3. Think for yourself
The students on my recent photo course were all used to letting their cameras do much of the technical drudgery for them, from auto white balance to auto exposure. But by the end of the weekend they were confidently - and enthusiastically - using manual everything, and getting better and more consistent results. Taking control isn't as hard as you think it is, and with a bit of practice you'll notice an improvement in your results. Don't believe the hype - the camera can't think. And it definitely can't produce great pictures. That's up to you.

* I'm going to put my camera where my mouth is on this one. For my next commissioned cover shoot, I'll use my entry-level D40X in place of my usual cameras. And I'll post the results here.

Car park shooting

Every rider knows that the density of walkers / dogs / small children is inversely proportional to the distance from the car park. Ride more than 400 yards from the average tourist honeypot, and you'll likely be rewarded with empty trails and people-free views.

Sometimes, though, it pays to keep your eyes - and your options - open. Last week in the French Alps we pitched up in this popular spot near Tignes to find it full to bursting:

Look to the right of the picture, though, and you'll see a perfect vignette of Alpine riding: tight singletrack curving round some rocks with a distant, snow-capped peak behind. Switch the lens, shuffle a few feet to one side, and there's a perfectly useable image there:

Nikon D200, 200mm f/2, 1/1000 sec f/4 @ ISO100

Would you have known there was a full car park within a stone's throw of this shot? Nope. Photographs are just rectangular, two-dimensional slices of reality (natch). Good photographs rely on careful positioning of the borders of that rectangle. What happens beyond those borders is, for the most part, irrelevant.

Most car parks don't have such great backdrops, of course. But less than ideal surroundings can still yield good pictures, if you keep your eyes open.

Oh yeah... the new watermark? I got a bit tired of the old, curly font. And I thought it was time I plugged my portfolio site, too...

36 inches of breathing room

D'you know how much depth of field you have to work with at different focal lengths and subject distances? Most lenses come with a depth of field chart. It's worth spending a few minutes having a look through it instead of consigning it to the recycling bin straightaway, particularly if you're the proud owner of any longish f/2.8 or faster lenses.

Here's a good example of why it's important. This is a tight crop from an image in which the bike occupies about half the frame:

Nikon D200, 200mm f/2, 1/250 sec f/2.2 @ ISO400, two radio slaves

Shot almost wide open on my 200mm f/2 in fading light, I had no choice but to prefocus and squeeze off a single, (hopefully) well-timed frame as Rob came through at around 20mph (30kmh). In the low light and with Rob appearing from behind a screen of trees half a second or less before reaching the top of this bank, autofocus simply wasn't an option.

You probably can't see it at web resolution, but the handlebars are slightly out of focus. Depth of field extends from a point just behind the bike's head tube to the knobs at the front of the rear tyre, or less than 36 inches (100cm) - certainly not enough to get the whole bike sharp.

At that speed, according to my envelope back scribblings, the bike will blow through the full extent of depth of field in around 1/8 second. Given that the rider's head needs to be somewhere in the middle of that range of critical focus in order to be sharp, the window of opportunity for a keeper is probably around 1/16 sec or less.

With such narrow depth of field and a fast-moving subject, it's all in the timing. I took about 10 shots, of which fewer than half were sharp enough. Curiously, my timing got worse rather than better - the best shots were the early ones. Puts a whole new perspective on the notion of the decisive moment...

On technology, timing and precision

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about all the clever technology that goes into modern dSLRs. It's probably partly because of all the hoopla surrounding Canon's new 1DmkIII, partly because Nikon is also likely to launch a new range-topper soon, and partly because, well, it's kinda interesting figuring out how much all the work that camera engineers put into all this stuff actually helps out in the real world.

Let's take two examples: focus and frame rate. Regular readers of my blog will know that I'm not the world's biggest fan of autofocus, although it certainly has its uses. The trouble is that I keep running up against the system's built-in limitations far more frequently than I'd like. Smallish, distant subjects that don't fill the AF brackets in the viewfinder are one headache: my D2X likes these less than my D200, although it can certainly cause problems (focussing behind the subject, usually) with both. On the other hand, modern focussing screens tend to exaggerate depth of field, making it hard to achieve accurate manual focus with any degree of certainty. What to do?

Faced with, say, a distant rider coming towards me at a slowish to medium speed, neither autofocus nor manual focus is likely to give me a 100% hit rate. It depends slightly on the circumstances (for example, strong sidelighting helps on both counts by increasing contrast), but experience has taught me a simple lesson: don't rely on either system entirely, and never take just one or two shots. The best method is to focus manually a tiny bit ahead of the rider, then take a short sequence of pictures as they ride through the focus zone. Easy to say, harder to achieve in practice!

Auto or manual? I asked Rob to ride this section of trail twice and tried both - in the end I got more in focus keepers with manual focus
Nikon D200, 200mm f/2, 1/1250sec f/2.8 @ ISO100

As for timing, I have to admit I've begun to miss the 8fps speed of my F5. One of the reasons has to do with focus, in fact, because it can be handy to prefocus and capture two or three shots as the rider passes through the focus point. With a long lens and in the right conditions it can mean the difference between a single keeper and two or even three on a single pass. But holding the button down is no subsitute for watching your subject and anticipating the peak of the action, particularly because a mirror flapping up and down 16 times every second does tend to hinder your view a bit.

I wanted the sun to appear between Rob's wheels as he rode up this ridge (that's the shadow cast by his bike that you can see on the wall to the left). A single well-timed shot worked better than a fast sequence in the end, although I had to ask him to ride it a few times while I tried both
Nikon D200, 10.5mm f/2.8, 1/500sec f/5.6 @ ISO100

The verdict? Clever camera technology can help in certain situations, and I'll take as much as I can get. But it's rare that a specific spec feature makes or breaks a shot, and in many common situations it can actually get in the way of a simpler, photographer-centred approach that bypasses the technology to use practice and experience. Understanding the limitations of your camera's features - by knowing when it's likely to fail and having a back-up plan to get around it - is probably the first step in avoiding the disappointment of out-of-focus or badly exposed pictures.

Which reminds me of another golden rule of photography: edit ruthlessly... and don't let anyone see the rejects except you. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you only ever take perfectly focussed, perfectly exposed pictures... 100% of the time. Right?

The power of post

That old cliche about the camera never lying was obviously coined by someone who didn't know anything about photography. Here's a shot I took in mid-Wales this weekend, straight out of the raw processor with no adjustments:

Nikon D200, 12-24mm f/4, 1/200 sec f/7.1 @ ISO200, single remote flash

It's a nice enough shot. I liked the play of light on the wet singletrack, the distant hills and the glowering clouds, but there was just nothing I could do about the distracting bright patch of sky in the top right corner. Ten minutes earlier the light had been better. But ten minutes earlier we weren't in this spot.

So, just to see if I could make it look a bit closer to the way I remembered it, I played around a bit with the original file. I tweaked the white balance to warm it up. I selectively darkened and boosted the contrast in the clouds. I lightened the shadows and boosted mid-tone contrast. I dodged the wet trail to make it stand out a bit more, and burned in the lower corners of the image to draw the eye in.

So far, so good. But that bright patch of sky was still bothering me. So (and this is where, if you're purist at heart, you should make sure you're sitting down) I 'borrowed' a bit of cloud from another shot (taken on the same trail, a few yards further along) and pasted it into the corner. After judicious use of the eraser tool and clone stamp, I was reasonably happy with the result:

No doubt someone who knows more about meterology than me will point out that the cloud formation is all wrong. And I'd probably never submit a shot like this to a client (unless they specifically asked and were prepared to pay for the Photoshop time). But it's closer to the way I remember this spot than the original, and that's good enough for me.

I can feel a big print coming on...

Eyes down

Heading out the back door to go the post office half an hour ago, I noticed that raindrops from the morning's incessant showers were shining on the grass. So I grabbed my camera and a lens and spent five minutes shooting some variations on a 'very limited depth of field' theme:

Nikon D2X, 200mm f/2, aperture priority auto, f/2 @ ISO100

Does the world need any more close-up shots of water droplets on grass? No. Will I make any money out of these pictures? No. But that's not the point. I enjoyed taking them, and that's all that really matters. After weeks of enforced slide sorting and office admin, it's therapeutic for me just to go through the process of creating a few images. And hey, it's fun, too.

I think there are two lessons here. First, it's good to step out of your comfort zone sometimes and shoot subjects that you wouldn't normally consider. And second, you never really know when - or where - a great picture is going to present itself...

Stick shift* rules

I was talking to a friend the other day who was having trouble getting good jpegs out of his D200. Most were OK, he told me, but occasionally the camera would throw him a curve-ball - white balance out of kilter, or a shot that was just really flat and washed out. I asked him to send me a couple of samples of what he was talking about... and within seconds of looking at the EXIF data I had the answer.

Auto.

Auto white balance, auto contrast, auto saturation, auto hue, auto sharpening, auto pretty-much-everything.

This friend of mine learnt his photographic craft the same way I did, on manual everything film cameras, processing black and white film at home and printing the results himself. Sure enough, he still uses centre-weighted metering and manual exposure, but all the extra options that come free with every dSLR had just been left at their default settings. And that, I figured, was where he was running into trouble.

Here's the thing: the computers that cameras use to make their focus, exposure and image processing 'decisions' really aren't that clever. They 'see' a subject and run an algorithm or three to focus the lens, set the exposure and deliver a processed jpeg that's, well, average-ish. It's rather like dropping off your films at the one-hour lab (remember that? It was only a few years ago), which worked by making similar computer-driven assessments of the images run through it to arrive at a finished result. Either way, the results can be pretty variable. Nikon actually admits that its auto white balance algorithms can deliver completely different results for otherwise identical shots taken in quick succession. Ah, the wonders of fuzzy logic.

Step back for a moment and consider what we're trying to achieve when we take a picture: we're recording an image by focussing light reflected from our subject onto a flat surface.

That's all.

Stripped back to its essence, photography isn't that complicated. And one of the things that makes it relatively straightforward is that, most of the time, the light falling on the subject - incident light, to use the jargon - is fairly constant. If you've ever seen an (old-school) pro waving a mobile phone-sized gadget around in the air, chances are they were taking an incident light reading. After which, they'd set their camera... and leave it, unless the light changed.

The meter inside your dSLR measures reflected light from the subject. And the amount of reflected light will vary according to the brightness of the subject, the brightness of other parts of the scene, the position of the subject in relation to other objects, and... you get the idea. Wave your camera around and watch the exposure indication in the viewfinder dance around in sympathy. Did the light change while you were doing that? Probably not.

All of which pre-amble is a long-winded way of saying this: take back control of your camera. Try manual exposure. Try manual focus. Switch anything that says 'auto' to a manual setting. It'll force you to think, force you to pay attention to the light, force you to pay closer attention to the results you're getting.

It's really not that scary. And you'll probably be surprised at the results.

* It's always been a mystery to me why the north American car market is dominated by soggy, inefficient auto 'boxes that downshift when you least want it and deliver awful fuel economy...

Photo course 2007

It's coming - I'm just fine-tuning the details. It's going to be early October in the southwest, with great riding and fantastic locations for photography.

Stay tuned - more details to follow in the next week or so.

Mono mania

You can tell I'm having a quiet (and weather-bound) week, because I've been downloading trial software. I don't normally have time to play with new applications. Rather like a comfortable pair of well-worn hiking boots, I'm much more comfortable using what I already have rather than risking the digital equivalent of blisters.

But I've been having quite a bit of fun with trial versions of Adobe's Lightroom and Nikon's Capture NX. Both, of course, make extravagant claims to the effect that your digital life won't be complete without them. There are aspects of each that I like, but there's one feature in each that actually pairs up rather well with the other.

First, Lightroom offers a series of photo effects presets that are kinda fun. Now, I'm no great fan of converting to sepia / black and white / whatever just to rescue a photo that's, well, dull. But there's no doubt that some pics do work better in mono, and I'm a sucker for a conversion that's just a mouse click away.

And then there's Capture NX's control points, which remind me of dodging and burning wands from my darkroom days. Rather like the bits of card that I used to waggle around under the enlarger's lens, this really rather neat feature enables me to selectively lighten or darken areas of an image plus - and this is the cool part - tweak contrast and saturation too.

Which is what brought me to this image, from my recent trip to Nepal:

Nikon D200, 18-200mm f/3.5-5.6, 1/320sec f/5.6 @ ISO200

This is a straight gre(a)yscale conversion out of Lightroom. In case you're wondering, the colour version is fine. But what I like about this shot is the intensity of the little boy's curious stare, which called for a mono treatment. Trouble is, the straight conversion is a bit flat.

In the darkroom I'd be using a more contrasty paper, burning in the corners (to darken them) and dodging the boy's eyes (to lighten them). I might even have printed on Ilford Multigrade, which would have allowed me to use different grades (and therefore contrasts) for different parts of the image if I was feeling brave enough to expose them separately.

Enter Capture NX. Using the control points is just like dodging and burning, except that you can see what you're doing, while you're doing it (in the darkroom you'd have to wait until after the print was processed to see if your adjustments worked out. With a complicated print, that could mean an awful lot of trial and error). I cropped a bit tighter, darkened the edges, lightened the faces a tad and concentrated my efforts on the boy's eyes to make them stand out by selectively lightening and boosting the contrast.

I rather like the end result. It's pretty much how I imagined this picture turning out in the first place.

Experienced digital darkroom dwellers will no doubt point out that you can use selections and adjustment layers in Photoshop to similar effect. Which is true. But the control point system really does seem to make the whole process quicker, easier and more intuitive. I'll stick with my darkroom analogy - it's the closest I've seen a piece of photo manipulation software come to invoking the acrid smell of fixer.

Light and shape

There are really only two important things to worry about in a photograph: how to arrange your subject within the frame... and how to light it. Part of the challenge of mountain bike photography, of course, is that the subject is moving most of the time. But you can sharpen up your composition and lighting skills by shooting one of the oldest subjects around - a still life.

That's probably why I've been enjoying shooting MBUK's grouptest for the past year or so. Shorts, seatposts, tyres and disc brakes are far from the most exciting objects in the world, but with a bit of thought just about anything can be arranged into a pleasing, well lit composition. And the beauty of this kind of photography is that you really can take your time, rearranging everything until it's just so and only taking the picture when you're completely happy. It's quite therapeutic.

Some photographers use a tripod for this kind of work, but I prefer to keep the camera hand-held so that I can easily move around the subject and change the composition as I go. I use natural light where I can, but often throw in a bit of side- or back-lighting with a remote flash. Dial in a wide aperture to throw the background out of focus, and I'm all set.

Capturing the action

I've written a short feature on how to improve your bike pictures for Bikemagic.com. Whatever kind of camera you use and take riding with you, hopefully you'll pick up some useful advice here.

Photo course 2007

Last year I ran three very successful 3-day photo courses in conjunction with Cycleactive in the Lake District. I had a great time, everyone went home with some useful tips and the feedback was very positive. This year, unfortunately, I can't spare the time. But I am thinking of running a (one-off) course off my own back.

It'd be later in the year (think September / October), probably in the southwest or south Wales. Three days (ish), with two nights' b&b and pub grub in the evenings. Some great riding, lots of guidance on how to improve your mountain bike pictures and feedback via slideshows at the end of each day.

Cost depends on numbers and accommodation, but it'd probably be in the region of £350-£400 plus meals.

Nothing's decided yet, so I need to gauge potential interest before firming up dates and logistics (or, alternatively, canning the idea). Put your hand up if you'd be interested. Come on now, don't be shy...

You too could have the chance to lie in the path of oncoming riders and then say 'that was great... can you do it again?'
Nikon D200, 85mm f/1.4, 1/250sec f/3.5 @ ISO100

Jpeg shooters of the world unite

After writing recently about shooting raw, I came across this guide to getting the best from out-of-camera jpegs, written by fellow photography blogger Kenneth Koh.

I still think raw is unquestionably the best way to extract the maximum possible quality from your camera, but if you're unable or unwilling to devote the time to process all your pictures there's a lot to be said for sticking with jpeg. Other reasons to consider jpeg over raw include:

- frees up more space on your card and hard drive
- in-camera noise reduction at high ISO settings can sometimes work better than third-party software

Ken's tips are specifically directed at Canon shooters, but equivalent adjustments can be made with any dSLR. His advice seems sound to me, so if you're disappointed with the results you're getting I'd suggest running some tests and experimenting with your camera's settings.

Nikon D2X, 10.5mm f/2.8, 1/50sec f/2.8 @ ISOH1 (1600 equivalent), in-camera jpeg

The light levels on this indoor climbing wall were terrible, but I didn't want to use flash. Because I had hundreds of images from this event I opted to shoot jpeg and turned the in-camera noise reduction setting to 'high' for these shots, which effectively killed the noise. It's one of the rare occasions when I chose to shoot jpeg rather than raw for quality reasons.

Shooting raw: a survival guide

//Warning: long post with a complete lack of pretty pictures of bikes...//

Update: since originally posting this I've added a few sentences (to clarify a couple of points), generally tidied things up a bit and rearranged the seven bullet points at the end into something approaching an order of priority.

The question of whether to shoot jpeg or raw is one that crops up a lot. If you're new to dSLRs, chances are you've been sticking with jpeg - it's seen as the safe option, and there's no immediate need to fiddle around with extra software to tweak the results. But if you want to get the best out of your camera, raw has a lot of advantages over jpeg (and it's not as tricky to use as you might think).

There's a great deal of information out there on the web around this topic, some of it downright inaccurate and misleading. So let's keep things simple.

If you shoot jpeg the camera does the raw processing for you, using all the parameters in your camera's image menus (sharpening, tone, saturation and so on) to tweak the result. If you shoot raw the camera records the data straight off the sensor and you import it into a software package of your choice, where you can fiddle around to your heart's content before exporting as a jpeg or tiff.

Here's how the two file formats stack up:

JPEG

Pros
- gives a ready-to-go result straight out of the camera
- doesn't need extra software or computer time
- reduces storage space

Cons
- contains less colour and tone information than a raw file (8 bits, compressed, for the technically-minded)
- reduces options for tweaking colour, contrast and brightness
- uses 'lossy' compression, which throws data out. Once it's gone, it's gone

RAW

Pros
- pulls the original data straight off your camera's sensor, unaltered
- acts as a 'digital negative' which you can come back to and re-process any number of times
- contains far more colour and tone information than jpeg (12 bits, uncompressed, typically), giving scope for more editing without losing quality
- allows post-capture tweaking of white balance, exposure and other variables not possible with jpeg

Cons
- needs extra software for processing and output to a useable file format for printing and viewing
- involves spending extra time at the computer
- takes up more storage space

(There are one or two myths surrounding raw floating around on the internet which are worth dispelling. One is that it increases a camera's dynamic range (the range of brightness values in a scene that can be recorded by the sensor). It doesn't do that, in fact, but it is certainly possible to make far bigger adjustments in software to a raw file than is the case with jpeg.

Another is that, armed with a raw file, the photographer can effectively make whatever white balance and exposure changes they like without affecting the quality of the outcome. In fact there's a visible difference between, say, a 2-stop underexposed raw file that's been recovered in software and one that was correctly exposed in the first place. Raw is no substitute for getting things right in-camera.)

The point, as far as I'm concerned, is this: if I shoot jpeg, I have limited options after I've pressed the button. If I shoot raw, I have far more flexibility at the expense of a little extra time spent at the computer. But that, in the end, is the crux for many people - is the time spent in front of a monitor worth the effort?

I think, on balance, that it is.

In the interests of making life a bit easier, here - in rough order of importance - are my tips for making the transition from jpeg to raw a bit smoother (including a few things I found out the hard way):

1. Accurate colour matters
If you're going to the trouble of shooting and processing raw, it's pretty important that your monitor is accurately profiled with a proprietary colorimeter and software package. If you don't take this step, you can't be certain that the colours you see on your monitor accurately reflect those contained in the file you're working on (chances are, they won't). And that means you'll never be able to print accurately. It's another expense, but it's worth doing for anyone interested in getting the best out of their dSLR.

2. Software design and performance makes a difference
The interface and performance (particularly in terms of speed) of your raw processing software is an important factor in how quickly and effectively you can work. There's a great deal of variation here, and personal preference certainly plays a part. But I have to say that most image editing software leaves a lot to be desired in terms of user-friendliness (or lack thereof).

Common problem areas include rendering speed (the novelty of watching a spinning wheel or eggtimer icon soon wears off when you've got dozens or even hundreds of files to process) and over-complicated screen layouts and tool palettes. How many different ways do you need to be able to tweak contrast, anyway? (the software I use has at least four...)

I've settled on Bibble because I'm used to the interface, it's blazingly fast at processing dozens of files at a time and the quality is pretty good. But apps like Apple's Aperture and Adobe's Lightroom set a new standard by making the entire process of downloading, organising and processing raw files far more intuitive. Well worth a look, if you can justify the price.

3. Getting it right first time saves time
Although there's lots more flexibility for making post-capture adjustments when you shoot raw, there's no substitute for getting things right in-camera. Not only does this mean your pictures will benefit from better quality, but you'll save a lot of time at the computer by not having to fiddle with all the basic adjustments. Nail the exposure and white balance to the best of your ability; you'll be grateful you did later.

4. Curves rule
Raw processors include powerful tools like white balance and exposure adjustments, but the most versatile tool in the box is also one of the simplest. Curves allow you to adjust the relationship between input and output pixels to alter image brightness and contrast. It takes some practice to achieve the effect you're after, but it's worth persevering with: curves allow greater control than any number of brightness, contrast or colour sliders.

5. Set your own 'look'
Don't be surprised if your software's settings give your raw files a disappointing look. Compared to out-of-camera jpegs, most raw conversion software defaults to relatively low contrast and saturation. Trial and error will allow you to find standard settings that work as a starting point, and all good software will allow you to save those settings.

6. In-camera image adjustments (mostly) have no effect
Aside from their effect on the embedded preview jpeg (see point 7., below), any in-camera image parameters you've set - including noise reduction and sharpening, for example - will only be recognised by your camera manufacturer's own raw conversion software. If you use third-party software it'll make a stab at setting the white balance (though the numbers may not match what you've set on the camera), but will otherwise use its own default settings.

7. The histogram sometimes lies
If you're using the histogram on your camera to tweak exposure (a subject I'll come back to another time), it's worth knowing that it's not displaying the data from your raw file. Instead, it shows a representation of pixel values in the preview jpeg embedded with the raw file (which is also the image that you're seeing on the camera's LCD). But the jpeg has been processed with white balance, sharpening and other adjustments set in the camera's menus, all of which can affect the histogram.

Bottom line: pay attention to what the histogram's telling you, but remember that it doesn't relate directly to the raw data you're recording. And set image adjustment parameters in your camera's menus (like sharpening, colour and tone) to 'off' or 'low' wherever possible.

Still here? If you haven't wandered off to another part of the web in sheer boredom by now, you should probably give raw a go. Once you've experienced the degree of control you have over your results you'll find it hard to go back to jpeg. It's rather like having your own darkroom. Except with far more control, a complete absence of noxious chemicals and no need to monopolise the bathroom for hours on end...

Flash: keeping it real

One of the liberating effects of my switch from film to digital has been the way I can use flash. Although I'd been using remote flash - triggered via a radio slave - for several years with film, it wasn't a technique I'd use unless I had to. Not being able to preview the results made it a bit of a hit and miss affair, although years of practice meant I could be confident of more hits than misses.

Digital widened the goalposts by allowing me to quickly test the position and strength of a remote flash before commiting to the shot. The result is that I carry at least one flash (with a stand or tripod and the radio slave) almost everywhere I go. I can punch a bit of directional light into a picture almost anywhere I want, using it to brighten shadows and / or freeze movement as appropriate. The effect can be fairly subtle, but an educated eye can usually spot the extra light source. Here's a shot with extra flash:

Nikon D2X, 80-200mm f/2.8, 1/250 sec f/6.3 @ ISO100, single radio slave

And here's the same setup without flash:

Nikon D2X, 80-200mm f/2.8, 1/250sec f/5.6 @ ISO100

Remote flash - and lots of it, to the point where some shoots take on the look of a Hollywood film set - is currently a very fashionable look in photography. There's no doubt in my mind which is the better of these two shots, particularly since this was taken with a magazine cover in mind. Despite the tell-tale second shadows in the flash-lit shot, the extra contrast and punch helps lift the rider from the background and puts some light into areas that are otherwise verging on murky.

But tastes vary, and the question of whether or not to use flash can sometimes come down to personal preference. There are certainly situations where I simply wouldn't be able to get the shot without a remote flash, which makes the decision a no-brainer for me. Here's an example, shot in deeply shaded woodland:

Nikon D2X, 12-24mm f/4, 1/50sec f/5 @ ISO400, single radio slave

Without the flash throwing a beam of light on the rider the picture would lack a focal point. It would also have been extremely difficult to keep both bike and rider sharp enough with just available light.

In good light and with no need for the flash's motion-freezing ability, the decision's not always so easy. Keep it real, or give the natural light a helping hand? Sometimes it comes down to the very prosaic consideration of how much time I've got to get the shot. If I've only got a minute or two, the flash will likely stay in the bag. No sense in setting up a tripod, flash and radio slave if the riders have already disappeared over the next hill.

A better mousetrap

Photography's all about putting a rectangle around a three-dimensional slice of reality (and removing one of those dimensions - at least until holography becomes a practical reality rather than a museum sideshow). The trick is to make the most of what's contained in that rectangle, and that means taking control over two key elements: where you stand, and how your subject is lit.

Here's an example. The pack shot - a side-on shot of a bike - is a staple of magazine bike test shoots. Now I happen to think that the bicycle is a wonderful and strangely beautiful piece of minimalist engineering, but pack shots aren't generally terribly exciting. Take a bike, a dull day and an uninspiring background... how to turn it around and make it into a picture that people will actually want to look at?

Well, I could change where I'm standing, for a start. The standard pack shot uses a long lens to isolate the bike against a plain, out of focus background. Moving in closer with a wide lens adds an element of distortion, but allows me to include a stormy-looking sky. Shooting from the rear of the bike draws the eye into the picture and emphasises the curve of the top tube, whilst putting the horizon on a diagonal prevents the picture from being cut in two.

Which just leaves the light. To keep the detail in the sky I need to reduce the exposure, which darkens the background nicely but also reduces the bike to the same murky state. A single flash to the bike's left adds the equivalent of a shaft of low sunlight to bring out the bike's details, whilst a second flash behind the bike and hidden by the rear cassette adds a dramatic rim light. Job done.

It's still just a stationary bike shot on a dull day against a fairly uninteresting background. But by changing my viewpoint and throwing a bit of light at the subject, the picture's lifted above the banal (just). Repeat after me, position and lighting...

Nikon D200, 12-24mm f/4 @ 12mm, 1/250sec f/5.6 @ ISO200, two radio slaves

Sweating the details

In one of those 'not quite sure how I got here' web moments over the weekend, I came across this interview with Magnum photographer Chris Steele-Perkins. Amongst several interesting comments, the one that stuck in my head was this one: 'Photography is generally a question of rigorous selection.'

He's right, you know. How good are you at weeding out the duds? The brave new digital world has opened the floodgates to an unprecedented level of photographic activity, which is arguably a Good Thing. But there's no escaping the fact that the vast majority of it - I mean all but a tiny, tiny percentage of it - is garbage. I pity social historians a century from now, wading through billions of out-of-focus photos on millions of unreadable hard drives and brittle CDs.

The best way to improve your photography is to get tough. Take a really close look at your pictures, and reject anything that isn't right. I do it all the time. Back wheel in focus but rider's head out of focus? Bin it. Too much motion blur? Bin it. Boring composition? Bin it. Nothing really sharp? Bin it. You can do some of this while you're shooting - that's what the delete button on the camera's for. Not only will you save time later, you'll also free up a load of space on your hard drive.

Being ruthless with the chaff doesn't mean that shooting like a trigger-happy GI necessarily improves your hit rate, of course. It's important to learn from the shots that didn't work, so that you can move on and try to avoid making the same mistake next time. But there's no shame in taking, say, 50 pictures and only keeping a handful. Set your standards high and your ability should gradually improve to match them.

Plus, as a bonus, you'll save some future nosy parker from having to wade through piles of blurry photos of back wheels and headless riders. Now isn't that a nice thought?

Cwm Carn
Nikon D2X, 50-150mm f/2.8 @ 70mm, 1/200 sec f/2.8 @ ISO400

Is the rider sharp? In low light with a moving subject and with the lens wide open, this is the kind of detail that makes or breaks a succesful pic.

The rider at 100%: sharp enough in spite of being in a corner of the frame with the lens wide open (a good example of why good glass is simultaneously neither cheap nor a waste of money). There's slight motion blur robbing some detail in the trees and on the trail - the result of tracking with the camera to follow the bike. But with the rider sharp, it's a keeper.

Of the dozen or so similar pics I took from the same spot, only around half were sharp enough to keep. That's actually quite a high hit rate. When the light's low and you're up against the limits of your sensor and lenses, sweating the details becomes even more important than usual.

dSLR 101

Got a new dSLR for Christmas? Welcome to the club! Here are a few basic but not-so-obvious pointers to help ease the transition from a point-and-shoot compact:

1. Left-handed rules
You need a stable, comfortable grip to get shake-free shots (even if your camera or lens has some form of image stabilisation). Don't use the camera's grip to support it - instead, turn your left hand palm upwards and cradle the camera body and lens in it, taking the weight of both. Tuck your left elbow into your body and use your thumb and first two fingers to control zoom and focus rings without changing your grip. Your right hand is now free to operate the other controls without supporting the camera's weight.

2. Squeeeeeze, don't jab
Now that your right hand isn't holding the camera up, you can concentrate on squeezing the shutter button instead of pressing it. Squeezing means you're less likely to move the camera during the exposure, which is another step towards sharper, blur-free shots.

3. Learn to see blind
A dSLR's mirror flips up out of the way during the exposure, meaning you can't see what you're snapping while it's being snapped. You need to anticipate the perfect moment for the shot and release the shutter just before that point. The faster your subject is moving, the more important this technique becomes.

4. One size doesn't fit all
Fully automatic modes are supposed to be the idiot-proof way to improve your pictures, but they don't always do what it says on the tin. For example, 'sports' modes tend to raise the shutter speed to freeze action - but moving subjects (like mountain bikes) are sometimes best captured with a slower shutter speed to give an impression of speed. Read the manual, take your camera off full auto and do some exploring. With digital there's no excuse not to, because you can see exactly what's happening as you try it. And every shot is (almost) free.

5. Think before you shoot
In an age of instant results and terrabyte storage capacities it probably seems odd to pause before you shoot. Why not just hold the button down and pick the best shot later? Well, you could do it that way. But thinking about what you're doing makes it easier to learn from your mistakes, which in turn increases your hit rate, which means you get more - and better - pictures. Get the basics right and the rest will follow...

Oh, and above all - have fun!

Chamonix, France
Nikon D200, 80-200mm f/2.8 @120mm, 1/250 sec f/5 @ ISO 200

Prefocus, don't autofocus

The biggest mistake most people make with their riding shots is not making sure they're sharp in the right places. Sure, you often want a bit of blur, but generally you'll want the bike and rider to be sharply in focus. One of the best ways to do that is to switch off your camera's autofocus, or at least use it to prefocus before you take the shot.

There are two reasons for this. First, autofocus tends to see through all the holes in a bike and rider - under the top tube, between their arms, you name it. And second, prefocussing helps to reduce the inherent delay in a lot of digital cameras between pressing the button and the shot actually being taken. Since bikes generally follow a predetermined route along a trail, it's easy enough to decide where you want the subject to be when you take the shot, prefocus there, and then press the button just before they reach that point. Just before? Yep. There's still a small delay before the shutter fires, so taking the shot a fraction of a second early ensures your rider won't have ridden past your carefully prefocussed spot.

Ashton Court, Bristol
Nikon D200, 85mm f/1.4, 1/160sec f/2.2 @ ISO 400, single radio slave