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Climber, world traveler, photographer, and author of Alaska Rock Climbing Guide Kelsey Gray is well-known for doing heart-pounding stunts like cliff jumping—stunts that most of us will only ever enjoy in his photographs. So we had to ask the burning question: Why do you bring the camera, and is it really worth the risk?
My first foray into climbing was back sometime around 2002, when I took an indoor rock-climbing course at the Alaska Rock Gym through the University of Anchorage Alaska. Before that time, I was purely a gaming nerd who had gained almost 65 lbs. after high school, eating cheeseburgers and pizza. With the occasional challenge of who can drink the most ketchup or eat the most salt packets, those were some very unhealthy years.
During a routine doctor visit (also partially due to the emotional issues that come with being overweight and with an astronomical blood pressure), my doctor said that if I didn’t get off the computer and fix my blood pressure, I would probably have a stroke by 30. I was 20, and that didn’t leave me much time.
After the indoor course, I enrolled in the outdoor course and found that to be even better. Soon after, I began climbing outdoors with a friend from Era Aviation, where we both worked. Later that year, I began climbing with John Borland, who would introduce me to many areas around Hatcher Pass and become a great climbing partner and friend.
Sometime during my first few years of climbing, I became more interested in hiking peaks. My uncle, Dano Michaud, had dragged me unwillingly up a peak called Harp Mountain and the 1,000+ ft. glissade (natural slide down the snow) hooked me. That summer I climbed peak after peak and soon realized that explaining the beauty of the areas was simply not enough. I needed to show it.
My very first camera was a small point-and-shoot with no screen and not enough megapixels to warrant labeling it on the front. I’m pretty sure it came free with a printer, which was also terrible. After a few trips, I realized I needed a better camera. I upgraded to a Fuji Finepix F700, which worked for me for a long time. I then moved on to a Fuji Finepix S9000 before finally making the jump to SLR with the Canon 20D. After the 20D, I moved on to the Canon 50D (which was later stolen from my car), and finally to my current camera: the Canon 7D.
During my years of climbing, I have learned some important lessons about myself, and how I view life. I am never more comfortable than when dangling from a cliff with the sun setting and the wilderness expanding in my view. I’ve often said that the journey is not the summit but in the adventure, which I’m pretty sure is a mashup of others’ quotes, but I can’t discount the great feeling of having made it as high as I can go without actually flying into the air. When I reach the top of a peak or climb and look out over the expanse, I have a ritual that I try to do as often as possible.
It is as follows:
There are times when I won't bring my camera climbing, and I usually regret it. The hairy times when the sheep dung really hits the fan are when the camera seems to really come into use, if not for just recording the trip for my own memory. The worst time to have a camera attached to you is when jammed into an off-width. This is the climber term for anything that you can’t wedge your body into but is too big to use a single hand or fist to climb. It’s probably the most uncomfortable situation most humans will ever find themselves in. A 60m off-width can feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sprinting, while holding a log over your head. (If you’re curious about just what an off-width has to offer, then Google for the video, Boogie Til You Poop.) Add climbing gear to your harness, and it becomes worse; add a camera, and you’ll pray it doesn’t shatter.
It is not easy to bring a camera as large as a Canon 7D up a climb, especially with consideration of the lens size. I usually stick with the kit lens that comes with the 7D: the 18–135mm. It’s not the best lens, but it is light and easy to carry. I would upgrade to a better lens, except I’m always spending all my money on traveling. I like to carry it in a waist pack that I often clip to my harness, just in case it comes off. I know others who use backpacks, but I don’t like having to take it off to get my camera out. That is my general kit for all adventures. Not much, but just enough so I don’t feel burdened by it.
The camera is there for my use to record everything I wish to keep for myself or show to others, so I’ve had to take a rather lenient stance on its value. If I consider it gold, then I’ll never bring it to the truly dangerous adventures. There are times I almost have to convince myself that my camera is already gone before I bring it, then I just try and make sure it stays in one piece. This allows me to continue to bring it to the most dangerous situations.
There are others in climbing who are much more advanced in climbing photography than I. I’ve often marveled at their ability to get paid to do the things I’m paying for! But with everything comes risks, such as the photographer who was with Johnny Copp and Micah Dash, two amazing alpinists who died in an avalanche, their photographer (Wade Johnson) by their side.
I’ve often had to decide just what it is I want to do; how far do I take this hobby that has become a driving force in life? I’m still figuring that part out. I have found that half the reason I travel is to take photographs. If I were to lose my camera today, it would probably take quite a lot of self-reflection to pull myself from the loss, even if I have the illusion that the loss is already imminent.
Like many other climbers, I am driven too heavily by emotions. I would love to say that most of my traveling began as a desire to see the world and experience new things. The truth is that many of my travels have been fueled by escape, the desire to escape the emotions that come with a loss, whether it is a relationship or the death of a loved one. Over time it has had to change as those emotions were hidden, or in my current case I found someone who truly makes me happy in life. Previously, I spent much of the time traveling the world alone, a few of the trips included others. Now I try to share it with others, those who I travel with and those who I get to show through the photographs I take.
Do you know Lee Morris, pro photographer, video producer, and educator? He's a seasoned commercial, advertising, fashion, and wedding photographer, plus he's co-founder of the website Fstoppers.com. He took a moment to reflect on the wedding business, why it's so hard, how it's changing, and how pros like you can make the most of it by staying true to your heart.
When it comes to managing a business as intimate as wedding photography, it’s easy to let your emotions take over. I try my best to approach my photography business as I would any other business. I need to manage my time, keep my current clients happy, consistently book new clients, and make money. Many photographers fail to meet at least one of these goals. Maybe you’re really good at making your current clients happy, but you work too much and you don’t enjoy your job or have time to enjoy your life. Maybe you book a ton of work, but you don’t charge enough and you’re constantly struggling financially.
During the digital revolution, many photographers who didn’t change their pricing structure were incapable of making their current clients happy. Maybe their pictures were great, but as digital started to take over, couples felt like they were getting nickeled and dimed after the event. If you can’t make your current clients happy, you’re going to struggle to find new clients.
When I started my business years ago, I learned early on that I hated making prints and albums. I could shoot a wedding in a few hours and make a few thousand dollars, but it would take me a full day to retouch a few pictures, print them myself, or take the files to a lab, package them up, take them to the post office, and I would only make a few dollars’ profit. In many cases my clients would have to wait weeks to actually get their prints because I was out of the state shooting another job. I decided I was going to start giving away the digital files with each of my weddings. Maybe I would lose a few dollars on the back end, but I was also gaining a ton of free time; and my clients were happier because they could print their pictures how they wanted, when they wanted.
As a single guy in my twenties, money was important to me, but free time was far more valuable. Once I had booked my 20 or 30 weddings for the year, I knew I had plenty of income to support myself and had the security to start working on other things. With the extra time I had gained, I created the photography website Fstoppers.com. If I had focused on custom prints and albums like other photographers do, I have no doubt I would have made a bit more money, but Fstoppers has been far more rewarding. Creating videos for our website like Bon Jovi’s photographer behind the scenes, Peter Hurley’s: The Art Behind The Headshot, or How To Become A Wedding Photographer has been the most exciting experiences of my life.
My point is that you may love your photography career (I sure do), but if you can give yourself some extra time, who knows what you’ll be able to create.
When I found SmugMug, I realized it filled three major needs in my business:
By simplifying my business, I was meeting all four goals above; I had more free time, my clients were happier, I was marketing to new potential clients, and I was making money from print sales each month.
It’s easy to think we know what’s best for our clients. We may know that if they don’t book an album now, they will probably never get one made. But the sad truth is that many of our clients would rather put their pictures on Facebook than deal with an album. It’s important to remember that we are hired by these couples to do a service for them; if they don’t want prints, we should figure out what they do want and charge them accordingly for that.
If you’ve ever bought a car before, you know how obnoxious it can be when the salesman tries to sell you on something you don’t want. There are so many other ways to make money with wedding photography that may not involve expensive prints. I make far more money than I ever did selling prints by selling engagement and bridal sessions, setting up a photobooth at receptions, selling video slideshows of the event, and offering a video service. Many photographers also don’t know that SmugMug makes it incredibly easy to sell digital copies of files. If you don’t want to give away your files like I do, you’re able to set the size and price for each individual picture.
I want to make clear that I love high-quality prints and that many wedding photographers make a lot of money selling prints, even today. I love seeing my work printed huge, professionally framed, and hanging on a wall. My point is simply that times are changing and the current generation of brides probably do not want the same things that their mothers wanted. To stay ahead of the pack, you need to deliver exactly what your clients are looking for, not what you think they will appreciate one day.
If I could sum up this article into a single point it would be this: Listen to your clients, and give them what they want. A happy bride will tell her friends how wonderful you are, and you will never have to worry about a shortage of work. In some cases, especially this one, it can make your life a lot simpler, and you might even make more money.
All photos by RL Morris Weddings.
