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This meandering river is typical of many rivers flowing into the Gulf of Carpentaria in the Northern Territory, Australia. Here, at the start of the dry season, temperatures reach 45 degrees Celsius and extreme evaporation dries out the flood plains that were inundated during the "wet" only a few weeks before.
This landscape is very remote and difficult to traverse as it is impossible to build roads here. You can either travel by boat and see the limited view from the twisting waterways or you can fly. So, my choice was to fly. I’ve been flying and photographing from light aircraft for the last 30 years and this photograph represents one of the most elusive I have tried for.
To capture this scene took years of scouting and patience. After 20 years of flying over this part of Australia’s remote north, I finally pinpointed an area that had all the ingredients of shape, form, colour and extreme remoteness. All I had to do next was wait for the right time of year, the right weather, then fly 2,500 kilometres from my base in Sydney to be over my chosen location, then wait until just before sunset when the low angle of the sun helps gave superb definition and colour to the landscape.
As the sun began to set I circled endlessly over my chosen bend of river, trimming out the aircraft to fly hands off and added final inputs to the control column with my knees while I concentrated on getting the right exposure and composition. I shoot through a specially installed photo window in my aircraft that allows me to shoot without having anything between my lens and the scene.
With several photographs “in the can” or as I was shooting digital, “in the card”, I then had to think about my limited fuel supplies and my own survival. The serene beauty of this landscape belied hidden dangers. The nearest town was over 300 km away, the waterways were infested with saltwater crocodiles and if I was forced down here my chances of survival were very limited. To get to safety I had to fly over uninhabited country into the gathering dusk and then the inky blackness of tropical night to reach the nearest airstrip with landing lights. It was only later that night, as I sat in my tent that I had the chance to view what I had shot that afternoon and I came to realise that I had at last achieved what I had set out years previously to capture.
This landscape is very remote and difficult to traverse as it is impossible to build roads here. You can either travel by boat and see the limited view from the twisting waterways or you can fly. So, my choice was to fly. I’ve been flying and photographing from light aircraft for the last 30 years and this photograph represents one of the most elusive I have tried for.
To capture this scene took years of scouting and patience. After 20 years of flying over this part of Australia’s remote north, I finally pinpointed an area that had all the ingredients of shape, form, colour and extreme remoteness. All I had to do next was wait for the right time of year, the right weather, then fly 2,500 kilometres from my base in Sydney to be over my chosen location, then wait until just before sunset when the low angle of the sun helps gave superb definition and colour to the landscape.
As the sun began to set I circled endlessly over my chosen bend of river, trimming out the aircraft to fly hands off and added final inputs to the control column with my knees while I concentrated on getting the right exposure and composition. I shoot through a specially installed photo window in my aircraft that allows me to shoot without having anything between my lens and the scene.
With several photographs “in the can” or as I was shooting digital, “in the card”, I then had to think about my limited fuel supplies and my own survival. The serene beauty of this landscape belied hidden dangers. The nearest town was over 300 km away, the waterways were infested with saltwater crocodiles and if I was forced down here my chances of survival were very limited. To get to safety I had to fly over uninhabited country into the gathering dusk and then the inky blackness of tropical night to reach the nearest airstrip with landing lights. It was only later that night, as I sat in my tent that I had the chance to view what I had shot that afternoon and I came to realise that I had at last achieved what I had set out years previously to capture.
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