I've always been fascinated by ptarmigans. Maybe because of their appearance and the habit to turn white during winter; maybe because in the rest of Europe they can be just found in very difficult environments to reach (well, at least for me): the mountain heights. Here in Sweden, latitude helps me to defeat altitude, and ptarmigans can be met at more "comfortable" heights. Nevertheless, I had yet to photograph them in their snow-white, winter plumage (but I did in the spring one: go here and be patient enough to scroll down until May).
A gap now filled. Subtle and pinky, the last lights of the day, reflected by the clouds, fall softly on the snowy scenery and the river Stor-Fjätan, in the nature reserve Långfjället. One to end it. The month just gone has been one of the warmest in the last 50 years, here in Dalarna. Wind, temperatures regularly above zero (even today, December the 31st, a day in which we use to struggle against -25/30°) and frequent rain. I could well have stayed in Northern Italy to get such a weather... Consequently, that has been a really poor photo month, with a bare landscape, little and dirty snow, grass emerging in the meadows, and wide sections of underwood entirely green. For this end of the month (and year), then here it is a shot from its beginning. Have a Happy 2014, everyone. Few days ago in the flooded forest of Göljån: lynx's footprints, not older than a handful of hours. This gives me the opportunity to narrate an “almost” close encounter with the big cat of the subject, few years ago, in the very same location. I was there to photograph a dipper which was hanging out along one the several creeks crossing the wood devastated by the great flooding from 1997; by the way, exactly the one, frozen, in the picture here. To get there, you have to walk on a narrow wooden boardwalk. I was a twenty meters from it, bent on the tripod and focused on the dipper coming and going on a fallen tree not so far. After just ten minutes I picked up my gear and was heading to my car: on the boardwalk, well clear and obvious on the dry wood, a very fresh track of linx's wet footprints was there, and it wasn't there before. To make it short, a lynx passed by my back, just 20 meters from me and in open sight, while I was staring exactly at the opposite direction. Ever since, inevitably, everytime I recall that moment, with a bitter smile the old commercial I embed here below comes to my mind. The gift December brings me is the gold from the scarce water which still freely flows in the rivers, colored by the winter sun reflected by snow-covered trees; or the amber tone of tannins dissolved in it, made evident by a white, spotless ice which is forming as I see it, in the very moment a new wave touches an icy rock.
It is the silver forest encrusted with thick rime, when it’s already freezing but little snow has come. It is the red of the pines lit by the last sunset moment, standing out against the bluish shadow as corals or sea fans in an underwater picture. Entirely natural colors, migrated like you see them from the original scene to the memory card, and from there to the screen ... which makes the gifts even more precious. I have to be honest: I have no idea why it never came up to my mind before. Moreover, the snow is definitely one of the typical products from a Swedish winter; perhaps having it around for seven whole months a year made me giving it for granted, I don't know. So only last January, after five winters in Särna, I decided to check if it was possible to get decent photos of snow crystals, and just with a plain, homely equipment, so to speak. I realized I already had what needed: a tripod, a flash, a 105 mm macro lens and an adapter ring to join it - thread to thread – with a classic and cheap 50 mm, in order to achieve a higher magnification. A series of not photo-related items, which could be found in any house, completed the shooting set up. So far, so good: I just needed... the snow; but not any snow, of course, because we have shovelfuls of the usual one (literally, my back knows). There are specific conditions that facilitates the fall of snow in well-formed single crystals: absence of wind in height, temperatures between minus 10 and minus 15 degrees, and probably some other weather factors I'm not aware of, but which I suspect more directly tied to the good, old luck. As known, without it even the best technique is powerless.
And, of course, these conditions have to keep coming for several days, in order to get the best chances to find good crystals (which is all but obvious) with a continuity. From this point of view Särna climate proved to be a perfect helper; then it was just a matter of using a good magnifying glass and be patient (warm clothes were kind of useful, too). This way I put together a gallery of shots that worked as feasibility study, and which I plan to try improving in the winters to come. Here some of them, and please forgive a more intrusive watermark than usual. A male capercaillie, caught while nibbling _pine needles, stands on a tapestry made of white snow, hoarfrost and milky sky. As always, click on the thumbnail to enlarge. In this case, even more so. _A quartet of pictures taken yesterday in the village, for the first post of the year; nothing more than what the title says: postcards, no attempts to perform Great Photography here, just a way to gather moments, lights and glimpses, change them into memories to share with friends or accidental visitors, wishing to them all a happy 2012.
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All site contents are: © Vitantonio Dell'Orto, all rights reserved worldwide. The Chronicles of Särna, and other stories from the North.
I live in Sweden, in Särna (Dalarna). The Chronicles are a photo diary about the nature (but not just) here around and from all the Scandinavian areas where my photo job takes me.
My book: "My Sweden - Tales from an Italian photographer in the North" is available in the bookstores and by the publisher.
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