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PERU The Enigmatic Salkantay Trek
GUATEMALA’s Best Kept
Mayan Secret
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IN THIS ISSUE
Did you hear the news?
Geez, what a leech!
More under-reported, quirky-human, natural-world stories: 300 days of first-class cuisine, why chocolate is always awesome, blowing the literal roof off, and just how smart can shoes get?
ISSUE
99
58 In My Mother’s Eyes Story by Sophie Kohn, Photos by Colin O’Connor & Robert J. Brodey
A young woman sets off to explore the mysteries of Malaysian Borneo’s Maliau Basin, where the orangutan roam and the old-growth forest whispers its wisdom, only to discover the healing power of travel
Knowledge 15 Local One Very Chronic Case! By Simon Vaughan
All DEET aside, our senior anti-health correspondent just can’t seem to keep the travel bugs away
23 El Mirador, Guatemala
Nothing makes a person feel more like Indiana Jones than trekking through jungle just to sneak a peek at an ancient Mayan tomb
Gods 28 Where and Mortals Mingle On the border between Andean earth and sky, the Salkantay trek tests one traveller’s limits and longheld beliefs
32 Live to hike, Hike to live 37 Shutter Stop
MEC’s The Traveller’s Edge
44
What Goes Up
Story by Delano Lavigne Photos by Delano Lavigne & Ryan Carlton As storm clouds brew over Yosemite National Park’s Half Dome Mountain, two brothers face the climb down of their lives
Don’t let technology hinder your digital creativity
Buzz 74 Backpacker News from Hostelling International
The lazy adventurer’s guide to a great Rockies adventure PLUS+ My favourite hostel!
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Connecting you to your next adventure COVER PHOTO: OUTPOST MAGAZINE / COLIN O'CONNOR
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CONTRIBUTOR
Sophie Kohn
Sophie Kohn is a writer and producer, most recently for George Stroumboulopoulos Tonight on CBC Television and The Globe and Mail. She is a happy alumna of The Second City, where she spent several years writing and performing sketch comedy, and a traveller with a keen cultural curiosity. Her recent adventures include camping through Iceland, paddling the Yukon River, working as a foreign correspondent in the Czech Republic, backpacking through New Zealand and Australia, and of course trekking through the spectacular old-growth forests of Borneo Malaysia, on her first opXpedition. Read about the unexpected surprises her journey brings in this issue of Outpost.
CONTRIBUTOR
ISSUE•99 Publisher/Editorial Director MATT ROBINSON
matt@outpostmagazine.com
Editor DEBORAH SANBORN
deborah@outpostmagazine.com Creative/Art Director SERGIO DAVID SPADAVECCHIA
david@outpostmagazine.com
Senior Writer/Editor & Special Travel Advisor SIMON VAUGHAN
simon@outpostmagazine.com
Associate/Online Editor DANIEL PUIATTI
dan@outpostmagazine.com Gear Editor PAUL AUERBACH
Editor-at-Large (Asia) JEFF FUCHS Editor-at-Large (Europe) RYAN MURDOCK Hostelling International Editor CERI JONES CHONG
Delano Lavigne
Contributing Editors
FINA SCROPPO, EVAN SOLOMON, IAN WRIGHT Contributors This Issue
Delano Lavigne grew up in Quebec’s Eastern Townships, where its rolling hills and deep forests cultivated a burgeoning spirit of adventure. Motivated by an interest to better understand the world and his place in it, Lavigne has spent the past 14 years travelling and climbing the mountains of the planet. Some of his most memorable journeys have taken him to Turkey, India and Peru, and seen him on climbing trips in Utah, the Northwest Territories and other places in the Arctic. “I feel most at home when I’m crawling through long forgotten tunnels under 14th-century palaces, or getting lost in the cultural beauty of a three-day train ride along India’s eastern coast,” he says. Read about his harrowing climb in Yosemite National Park in these pages.
SOPHIE KOHN, DELANO LAVIGNE, S. BEDFORD, RYAN CARLTON, SAM MOODY, COLIN O’CONNOR, JOE SANBORN Sales Manager GREG DAVIS
greg@outpostmagazine.com Director, Integrated Publishing Programs
DAVID FRATTINI
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Story by Photos by
S. Bedford Sam Moody
El Mirador
Nothing makes a person feel more like Indiana Jones than trekking through thick jungle just to sneak into an ancient Mayan tomb
Guatemala My friend Pete and I arrived in Flores, Guatemala with a typical
itinerary in mind: a day trip out to Tikal to hike up the pyramid’s iconic stone steps, followed by a couple of afternoons spent lazing on the dock with our toes dangling over Lake Petén Itzá. But all that changed that night at dinner when we met Sarah, a 26-year-old field hydrologist from the United States.
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“Everybody goes to Tikal,” she informed us, waving a forkful of frijoles refritos. “If you really want to get off the beaten path, you should come on the two-day jungle walk to El Mirador.” She explained that El Mirador had been a bustling Mayan city capital before its abandonment nearly 2,000 years ago. Although numerous pyramids and tombs were still intact, its remote location meant that it was largely unexcavated and thus rarely visited by tourists. Pete and I were quick to agree to the adventure; I soon discovered, however, that Sarah’s use of the term walk had been somewhat liberal. In actual fact, we scrambled, crashed and occasionally squished our way through the forest. Mud sucked at our sneakers as verdant palms waved at us like gigantic hands and tree roots pooled in fissures like spilt spaghetti Howler monkeys roared overhead and tarantulas scurried in the dead leaves as we teetered above swamp water on partially submerged logs. Our trek was led by Alex—a spry
Guatemalan who could shimmy up a vine in seconds at and included three other intrepid, sweaty backpackers: Matt, Sam and R b ka It was late that first afternoon when Alex announced our arrival at a pyramid that was part of El Tintal, an archeological site approximately 25 kilometres from El Mirador. A large knoll sheathed in trees sprang sharply from the ground, and we huffed and puffed up the stone stairs notched into the earth. At the summit we were rewarded with a breathtaking view of the forest canopy blanketed out below, and a sky blushing with the corals and crimsons of sunset. Despite our sublime surroundings, Pete was frowning. “I don’t see this pyramid.” “That’s because you’re standing on it,” said Sam, who then pointed at what looked like a jungle-clad volcanic peak in the distance. “That’s another one over there. They just haven’t been excavated yet.” We clambered back down and pitched our tents as the rainforest transformed into a cacophonous symphony of nocturnal buzzes, shrieks, wails and crashes.
Our super guide, Alex!
As I brushed my teeth, the light from my headlamp re ected off what I thought was dew glistening in the grass but turned out to be the sparkling eyes of hundreds of spiders. We arrived at El Mirador on the eve of our second day and set out to explore the following morning Our first stop was a Danta pyramid. Although the plaza that the pyramid sat upon remained deeply buried, the limestone steps were much more distinguishable than those of El Tintal. A rickety wooden staircase led us to the top, where the view across the Mirador Basin was as jaw-dropping as it was knee-buckling. As the archeological field season had wrapped up for the year, we had the site to ourselves. Alex took the opportunity to show us one of the most astounding finds at El Mirador the Popol uh relief Based on the Mayan creation myth, the 2,200-year-old relief had been carved in plaster on the side of a channel that funnelled rainwater into cisterns, and was amazingly well preserved. A spider monkey
Trekking through jungle swamp
On top of La Danta pyramid
A tarantula
Our writer on top of a pyramid in Tintal MAY/JUNE • 2014
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PERU Story and photos by
Daniel Puiatti
ON THE BOUNDARY BETWEEN EARTH AND SKY, AN ENIGMATIC TREK TESTS ONE TRAVELLER’S LIMITS AND LONG-HELD BELIEFS
WHERE GODS S
alkantay is a sacred place of immense spiritual power—so they say. I’ve never been one to believe in the existence of the spiritual, but today I would come closer to believing than ever before. It’s late in the morning as our van races along the snake-like and unpredictable artery that leads us forward. The road changes constantly from paved, to not, and back again I am fixated on the landscape that surrounds me: harsh angular mountains stretch endlessly upward and enclose a deep, bottomless valley. The azure blue sky is smattered with puffs of white that move lazily along the green rolling mountainside. I struggle to capture my thoughts on paper as the van bounces wildly, my notes resembling, only vaguely, English characters. Is this your first time? someone asks from the back of the van. Yes, I respond I’ve never before been to the Andes. MAY/JUNE • 2014
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I am travelling with a group in a weeklong expedition that will see us cross an ancient and remote Inca footpath that leads toward the legendary Machu Picchu. We’ve foregone the crowded and bureaucratic Inca Trail in favour of an alternative, and some would argue better, route: the Salkantay. Due to extensive tourist activity along the Inca Trail, permits, obtained months in advance, are now required to trek it—and there’s no guarantee you’ll even get one, since Peru’s National Institute of Culture issues only 500 a day. While this seems like a lot, keep in mind that most of the supply is bought up in advance, and once all 500 have been sold that’s it—no more permits are issued, even if there are cancellations. As a result, many who wish to experience the renowned beauty of Machu Picchu and the Peruvian Andes
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have been forced to find another way to trek there—the Salkantay is this other way: it requires no permits, has no limitations on capacity, and is, for the time being, your best substitute. The Salktanay route takes you through enormous snow-covered mountains that skirt verdant Andean cloudforest, and while most people still ock to the Inca Trail, it remains a serene and equally beautiful way to embrace this venerable and ageless land. Our van stops a fair distance from the day’s destination, and we begin a sixhour trek along a narrow mountainside trail that shifts composition from welltrodden dirt to steep overgrown inclines that challenge your footing with every step. This trek is a simple introduction to the more rigorous one that awaits us tomorrow, and gives the group a chance to adjust to the high-altitude conditions. www.outpostmagazine.com
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S
The vistas along our walk are mindbendingly beautiful, more akin to dream than reality: there are moments when it seems as if you can reach out and actually touch the mountains that frame the path. We arrive at the lodge as dusk begins to settle and the last strands of sunlight vanish behind the mountains. I head directly to my room, hoping to relax and clear my head, but the silence there provides a perfect environment for my thoughts to run wild. I have already been in Peru for a week and already have had a lifetime of experiences. I spent the week prior travelling across the southeast of Peru, in the Madre-de-Dios region, observing how the Rainforest Alliance, an international NGO, is spearheading efforts to develop environmentally-sustainable economic practices among local businesses and communities I had seen firsthand their principles of sustainability at work in local eco-lodges and farms, how they’ve helped business implement effective and profitable practices that range from reusing shampoo bottles to only using locally produced food and materials. It was all very inspiring.
But now everything was new again—up here in the Cordillera Vilcabamba, 6,271 metres above sea level, I would need to adapt to a completely different set of rules, and open myself to an entirely new variety of circumstances. I’m both excited for tomorrow’s rigorous four-hour trek to Lake Humantay, and exhausted from today’s six-hour trek to the lodge. The next morning, the crisp mountain air rouses me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace as I step outside to observe the day. My group has already gathered at the entrance to the lodge, and our guide, a local Peruvian who works with Mountain Lodges of Peru, is giving us an outline of what to expect during the trek toward Humantay—a remote glacier lake that sits high into Salkantay, the highest peak of the Willkapampa range in the Andes He is calm, patient and fiercely dedicated to our well-being as we acclimatize to the mountain air—I could not have asked for a more capable host. We begin our trek to Humantay. Our group moves slowly and cautiously. In the distance sits Mount Salkantay, framed by mountain ranges to its left and right before it, a long green field
that slopes upward toward the mountain path. I feel as if it’s beckoning me forward, challenging me to test myself; and so I start moving fast, hurriedly, excited to get to the top, to see what the mountain sees. I find it easy to move on the steeply inclined trail. Most of my group is sporting an impressive array of equipment: trekking poles, camel packs and all manner of brightly coloured mountain gear. I, on the other hand, have brought only my camera and water bottle, and so feel agile, capable of moving faster than the group. Accompanying us is a local Peruvian man in traditional clothing; he is carrying a ute and wearing sandals, and moves across the terrain effortlessly, often disappearing from sight and appearing far in the distance—he pauses ever so often to play a tune on his ute I think he is a shaman My excitement grows the farther I move ahead of the group. A foolish brashness urges me forward, faster and faster, leads me to push beyond the group, closer to Humantay. But something suddenly feels very wrong. My lungs fill as I take deeper and deeper breaths, but still I feel breathless.
Mount Salkantay watches over our approach
Lake Humantay
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GoesUP What
Story by Delano Lavigne, Photos by Delano Lavigne and Ryan Carlton
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As storm clouds brew over Yosemite’s iconic Half Dome Mountain, two brothers face the climb down of their lives
c anopy of the early morning’s darkness rests heavily over Lower Pines campground, as my alarm sounds an unwelcomed but expected 3 a.m. call. I listen through the walls of my tent for any sign of rain or wind, both of which would encourage me back to the comfort of my sleeping bag. But the air is quiet, and its stillness broken only by the tranquil sound of the Merced River flowing past the campground. I exit the tent and expectantly find my brother rustling in his sleeping bag, as he too is bound to this early morning rise. We sit and drink our tea in silence, and I start to imagine what adventures await the innumerable families sleeping peacefully in their tents, RVs and luxury campers nearby. Who will raft down the surging river, catch a prized rainbow or brown trout, step over the edges of Yosemite Falls, or catch a glimpse of a yellow breasted western tanager? All of which seem, at the moment, far more enticing than our planned adventure, which is to climb Yosemite National Park’s iconic Half Dome mountain. But I do not linger on the fleeting wish for an easier day’s adventure, and instead join my brother in putting on weighted backpacks, as we begin the three-hour trek to the base of the Dome’s Northwest Face. Our heads heavy from an anxiety-filled night of sleep, we walk in silence, allowing the pre-dawn aura of Yosemite, the United States’ oldest and in some ways most esteemed conservation areas, to wash over us. It’s not until the first rays of sun crest over the park’s famed Sierra Nevadas that run along the country’s southwestern flank that we break from the shackles of the early morning’s torpor and end our ritual of silence. We begin by talking about the day’s plan, which narrates like a grocery list of climber’s garble: First 100 metres somewhat devious, then a rope swing followed by a big sandy ledge, tiny alcove, Thank God Ledge, loose chimney, bad bolts, and on and on. But soon our conversation turns, as it always does, to family, friends, life and love. We embrace, if not look forward to, this moment of calm, where we can extend our adventure beyond climbing and toward the exploration of the self, of our brotherhood, while together.
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A young woman sets off to explore the mysteries of Malaysian Borneo’s Maliau Basin, where the orangutan roam and the old-growth forest whispers its wisdom, only to discover the healing
power of travel
We’re
standing at the edge of a glowing waterfall deep in the Borneo jungle. The water is raging, furious, so loud we have to shout to hear each other, though we’re barely a foot apart. The falls tumble over a cluster of jagged rocks before settling gracefully into a rushing river, dancing and foaming, stained with brown.
M
In My Story by
Sophie Kohn Photos by
Colin O’Connor & Robert J. Brodey
It’s precisely the scenario we’ve been instructed to avoid. Our travel clinics, our guidebooks, our parents, concerned strangers—pretty much everyone said it: jungle rivers are teeming with parasites, potential infections, creatures with ominous intentions. But after three days of trekking in unfathomable humidity, it’s becoming difficult to care e’re sweltering and scratched, muddy, exhausted, doused in days of DEET and sunscreen, our legs and arms the bloodied battle zones for an untold number of leeches e’ve been wearing the same sweaty, salty clothes all week Here in the Maliau Basin, every piece of cautionary advice feels impossibly far away. There is only the primal need to cool what is hot, clean what is dirty, soothe what hurts. e don’t think much more about it e strip down and jump in The Maliau Basin Conservation Area is an enormous, mystical depression in the earth, nestled deep in Malaysia’s eastern state of Sabah. At 130 million years old, this pristine rainforest is a vast expanse of primary jungle that, as it turns out, is one of the oldest on the planet. About the size of Singapore, the basin itself is bounded by forested escarpment that stretches high up into thick, hazy air, ancient trees distending toward perfect clouds Often referred to as the ost orld of Sabah, trekking here gives you a lovely sense of being cradled by the land, and yet, nowhere in our expedition have we been less safe. As we hike, we’re constantly negotiating the intense humidity, mindful to hydrate ourselves generously and often. Snakes, parasites and mosquitos. Troubled, charging water and the precarious footbridges that reach across it, swinging and creaking, the planks of damp wood held together with wire. Jungle trekking is an absolutely exhilarating experience but, as with most exhilarating experiences, it pushes you and tests you It makes you work hard for the rewards ithin minutes after we set out on the trail each morning, the humidity soaks my clothes, and stinging trickles of sweat meander down my face into my eyes. At night, we peel off wet and sticky shirts, socks, and shorts, but hanging them to dry in a rainforest is futile, and in the morning, they’re cold and damp against my skin. The wildly undulating landscape leads us from one extreme to another we’ll hike straight uphill for hours, my thigh muscles burning, my heart pounding wildly, only to slide straight downhill in a sudden, deafening rainstorm, the trail disintegrating into dark, slippery mud, the leeches emerging by the thousands from god knows where. MAY/JUNE • 2014
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COC
Mother’s eyes
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HOSTELLING INTERNATIONAL CANADA
BRITISH COLUMBIA AND ALBERTA REGIONS
BACKPACKER BUZZ THE CANADIAN ROCKIES ARE A LAZY ADVENTURER’S PLAYGROUND By Anthony Brook
I like to think of myself as productively lazy. I thoroughly enjoy the Mountains from Kananaskis to Jasper, and partake in all the sports and activities they offer—but if there is an easier way, I will find it. I am willing to put forth the energy required to enjoy a hike, scare myself on a bike or get snow up my nose while skiing; however, exertion and sweating are not goals unto themselves. I am a master of three-hour hikes and ski tours in the Canadian Rockies I am sure my canoe is more ualified to take itself down the river than by having me interfere with paddling. Downhill mountain biking is better than the other, peddling, kind. With this in mind, I’d like to take you on a short tour of the lazy man’s action adventure lifestyle.
The highest you can really put in is at the HI-Mosquito Creek Hostel. It’s shallow, fast, and bumpy with lots of stick handling. I love it My boat hates it Halfway along the five-hour journey, you pass through Hector Lake, which is stunning, has a great little backcountry campground, and lots of fish ontinuing along, the rocks are replaced by sweepers, again quite sporty for even the experienced paddler. Seven kilometres or so above Lake Louise you’ll need to know where to pull out above Willies Canyon. Willey is OK for some kayaks, but he doesn’t like canoes so much.
Competition is obviously the bane of the lazy man. While the hordes ock to climb, hike, ski and bike in the mountains, I am content to let them do so They forget a river ows through it. The Bow River originates in Bow Lake, north of Mosquito Creek. It travels south and east, through Lake Louise, Banff, Canmore to Calgary, and beyond. Not only does it provide excellent trout fishing in its lower reaches but the canoeing is excellent and varied. Best of all, despite all the transplanted Ontarians in the valley, nobody canoes.
After your car portage, you can put back in above or below Louise Rapids. Above, if you like to get wet; below, if your cooler is unsecured. From Lake Louise to Banff, with the exception of a few whif es, it’s a pretty oatsy trip It is the best way to see the valley. It is hiking from your chair. It is advised to avoid Bow Falls as you pass through Banff, or you will die (with a huge audience). Below the falls, the river picks up a bit of speed and takes you to Canmore under the ramparts of Mount Rundle.
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HO
ONS
HOSTELLING INTERNATIONAL CANADA
BRITISH COLUMBIA AND ALBERTA REGIONS
My favourite section of the River is from Canmore down to Exshaw The river ows lazily and braids out across the valley All animals love water and they especially love it here I have often seen bears both avours , moose, elk, deer, beavers, ospreys, bald eagles, coyotes and foxes but rarely humans I have been seen by cougars ast summer we came around a corner where a huge golden eagle was gorging himself on fish He didn’t stir until we were about ten metres from him hen he did, we saw the reason for the procrastination atty atso could hardly get off the ground or those that don’t drive around with a boat on the roof, this same trip can be done commercially with anadian Rockies Rafting They offer an excellent and uni ue evening trip If animal viewing is your priority, this is the way to do it If you want more adventure from your rubber bus, rafting trips are available at the ananaskis River and Horseshoe anyon The an is a family trip, while the Horseshoe offers a short, sharp shock Jasper also has a host of whitewater rafting opportunities on the Athabasca and Thompson rivers Anything Banff anmore can do, Jasper can do slower That’s not always a bad thing
My favourite bit of li uid idiocy is river boarding Think boogie board, ippers and rapids our-foot waves seem much bigger when you are heading in, face first, kicking like hell I am O upping the effort level when fear is involved heck out The Mercer Report Rick came for a visit I was drowning swimmer 3
You may think this is an awful lot about water, so what are the mountains for? ell, we use those too This is a lazy man’s hiking paradise Park car, walk up hill, drop jaw The best thing about the hiking is there is so much of it You don’t need to spend the day with a thousand of your friends on the trail Easy, hard, vertical in fact, despite the fearsome appearance of the mountains, it is surprising that there are very few that do not have a no gear needed hiking trail to the top I have many favourites, some of which, I will tell you about Down in ananaskis country, you don’t have to be content hiking along and looking up at the peaks, you can get up high and look down at the valleys Pocaterra Ridge is an excellent example of this A classic September trail, it starts from Highwood Pass, in the arch trees, which turn a beautiful shade of yellow in the autumn After a walk through bucolic meadows and a steep trek through sheep country you gain the ridge e had lunch one day with a full curl big horn sheep sitting 0 metres away He was obviously puzzled as to why we had brought our own lunch, instead of enjoying the delicious grass that was provided Once on the ridge, it is a rugged scrambling, but the views are worth the sometimes precarious footing Then it’s down downhill Your day ends winding through the larches, and then the subalpine forest Hike this from the south to the north and your shuttle car will be much lower than the one you came in lazy man tip Sunshine Meadows, ake ouise, ake O Hara and the Takakkaw alls areas all offer enough varied and beautiful hikes to keep the most avid hikers and photographers busy for weeks Any guide book or local information centre will send you in the right direction I know I’ve already told you this story but it’s so appropriate here it bears repeating a few years ago, I took an experienced travel writer for a walk up Sentinel Pass, near Moraine ake and the alley of the Ten Peaks As I wrote then, I ventured that the anadian Rockies offered some of the finest car-to-car, half-to-full day hikes in the world, and that this hike was the best bang for your buck of them all She remained uiet, but I could hear her eyes roll back in her head Three hours, three unbelievable, in your face, views later, we crested Sentinel Pass and gawked down into Paradise alley hen I read her article later, it was absolutely apparent that she agreed I retell this story often, as I think it’s a cautionary tale, a great reminder for all us travellers If a stroll through ower covered high-alpine meadows is more your style, then Edith avell Meadows, in Jasper National Park, is for you et your car do the work grinding up the road to
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ShutterStop By
Sergio D. Spadavecchia 70.0 mm f/2.8; 1/400 sec; f/13; ISO 50
GO PRO OR NOT Whether you prefer entry-level or more professional control, don't let technology hinder your digital creativity
T
hat amazing, shiny, new DSLR is finally in your hands—so much time, trying to decide what camera was right for you! Hours, days and even weeks of researching and comparing megapixels, lenses, accessories—now, after scrutinizing every detail, the moment has come to open the box and check out that state-ofthe-art piece of technology that will help you capture the most amazing moments, help your creativity burst. You just can’t wait to turn it on—but in the box you find a thick booklet describing all the functions of your new prodigious camera, and because these days cameras come with lots of bells and whistles, novice users flipping through that mini-encyclopedia can be easily overwhelmed.
On the other hand, getting to know all the settings on your camera is the only way to improve your photography skills—obviously, though, this takes time and patience. One fast and easy way to acquaint yourself with settings is to simply take the same photo over and over again using different settings, then studying the results until you begin to understand how the camera operates and how to use a particular function. If you’re a novice or amateur and feel like a kid on Boxing Day, and don’t really feel like going through 400 pages of technical details…no worries—I’ve amassed a few tips that can help you shoot like a pro from the outset, so you can take your time going through that scary book one step at a time.
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Let’s start by cutting some corners—which in this context is smart. If you have a dial on your camera as you see in Figure #1, you have a lot of “presets” that will help you get the right shot without sweating a drop. They’ll likely cover any situation you might encounter, and give you the best results the camera can output. Obviously, the more you experiment and get a sense of the full capacity of your camera, the more these presets will be forgotten and the more you’ll want to work almost exclusively in the “M” or manual mode. Clearly, many details change from camera to camera, brand to brand. But the basics are similar—so let’s take a look at the most common camera settings, the ones that’ll help you understand how to get the best shots from your DSLR. If you have a pro-level camera as in Figure #2, the settings are different and the presets don't exist, for obvious reasons. A pro-level camera has more settings, more options for you to customize your camera—more control over colour, saturation, accessories and so on. So…if you purchased a pro camera, congratulations—but in this case you’re likely going to have to read that encyclopedia over and over till you know the settings well.
TYPICAL PRESETS ON YOUR ENTRY-LEVEL CAMERA: AUTO MODE The first setting you should get to know is this one—auto. This setting doesn’t really need an introduction—it’s self-explanatory in the sense that the camera sets all the parameters for you to deliver the best shot possible: it controls ISO, shutter speed, aperture, white balance and flash. But, in cases of low light and if the scene or shot requires a fast shutter speed—if for example, you’re shooting an object in motion—you’ll likely end up with
something blurry. That’s because while auto mode provides the best exposure for your shot (by calculating the light that comes through the lens and making the adjustments for proper exposure), the camera doesn’t read the scene itself or distinguish its details—it can’t, for example, tell the difference between a fast moving object or a still one! The result is that the scene’s details won’t be as sharp as they should be. But—in many cases, auto mode does the trick. PORTRAIT is also somewhat self-explanatory: it’s the best setting to use when taking a photo of a person—or a pet, for that matter! It automatically sets a wide aperture (which translates to a small number on your lens) to blur the background as much as possible and have the subject in focus with sharp details. A good trick here is to get closer to your subject and use the zoom to blur out the background for effect. Depending on the light, an easy technique is to use natural light but also the flash to expose your subject; a flash, even in daylight, reduces harsh shadows and dramatic contrasts. LANDSCAPE works in exactly the opposite way. The camera will set the highest f-stop in order to ensure all the details of what’s in your viewfinder are in focus, both foreground and background. This doesn’t mean you can’t use this setting for a portrait or a still life—landscape just means everything in the shot will be in equal focus. Overall, it’s a great setting to use if you want all the details before you to be sharp. Just know that in selecting this setting, you won’t have control over the shutter speed, and because the f-stop is so high you could end up with a blurry photo. In low light use a tripod and you’ll avoid camera shake while the shutter is open. 50.0 mm f/1.4; 1/30 sec; f/5.0; ISO 4000
Examples of the type of dials found on modern digital cameras: figure#1 is typically found on DSLRs ranging from entry-level to semi-pro; figure#2 is typically found on professional cameras, ones used by professional photographers MAY/JUNE • 2014
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Fig 1
Fig 2
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KNOWLEDGE
Story by
Simon Vaughan
Our senior anti-health correspondent travels the world and comes back
with some
unusual souvenirs
ONE VERY CHRONIC CASE
T
he doctor stared intently at the small, black speck on the centre of his desk. “Hmmm,” he murmured, somewhat distractedly. “Not sure what it is.” His bookcases were laden with scholarly tomes and souvenirs from around the world. There was a nice oriental rug on the oor and colourful batiks on the walls. It was easy to forget that beyond his door were the sterile hallways of a bustling hospital. He slid his spectacles down his nose and lowered his desk lamp, all the better to view the subject of his rapt attention. “Never seen a tick quite like this before,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’ll send it off to the Centers for Disease Control [or CDC] in Atlanta for them to look at. If it’s a new species, perhaps they’ll name it after you,” he added with a smile.
At long last international fame, I thought. Perhaps not fortune—unless there was a little-known but lucrative speaker’s circuit for those after whom ticks are named—but certainly fame. It had taken me a long time to reach immortality, but here I was on the threshold. orget the eeting fame of hristopher Columbus, we were looking at the Tickus LocalKnowledgeus SimonVaughanus. ith hopes high, I left the office • • • A couple of issues ago I wrote in Local Knowledge of my dalliance with malaria. Likely contracted in the steamy jungles of the Congo while trekking for gorillas, my night sweats and violent shakes had not only left my body racked and reeling, but had brought me closer to those great explorers and authors, adventurers and
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travellers who so captured my imagination. Clearly my tales of medical woe so captivated other imaginations that I have been asked to write more of my maladies, which I guess just goes to show there is indeed pleasure in other people’s pain. Before my world travels began in earnest, I vowed never to venture anywhere that I couldn’t drink the water. The fact that I never really drank water was irrelevant—it was the principle of the matter. By the time my wanderlust had begun to take hold, I quickly realised that the only places that boast truly safe tap water are Liechtenstein and Luxembourg, and so I lowered my standards and bought a water filter It’s very easy to become a hypochondriac when travelling to exotic places. No sooner have you bought your plane ticket, than you’re directed to a Travel Clinic.
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KNOWLEDGE
Here you fill in a lengthy form detailing where you are going and what you’re doing The terms Yellow ever, Japanese Encephalitis and Pneumococcal start to oat through the air as you begin to get cold feet and feel that maybe Disney orld’s Jungle ruise ride was a better option after all After having multiple needles stuck in your arm and occasionally elsewhere you are handed a yellow booklet and an appointment is made for your follow-up vaccinations Yes, follow-up vaccinations, because they can only poke so many holes in you at once before all your air escapes like a compromised balloon I take my health very seriously when I travel I always ensure that my inoculations are up to date and I diligently take
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the latest in cutting edge anti-malarials I use mos uito repellent and take necessary precautions at dawn and dusk I am careful with water, ice cubes, salad and fruit, and always have antibiotics with me I also carry a small medical kit that has everything I could need short of a heart resuscitator But sadly, even the best precautions are no force-field against determined nasties My first brush with tropical medicine came after seven weeks travelling overland around Africa I returned home with night fevers and a certain ennui It could have been post-vacation depression, yet the fever suggested something else My doctor referred me to the tropical disease clinic of the city’s largest hospital Even though a tyro to exotic ailments, it sounded exciting
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You can’t just waltz into a tropical disease clinic and say, I think I have hexaplasmosis, or else everyone who has ventured south of Buffalo, New York would be doing so Instead, you can only see the superstars of tropical medicine when referred by your own doctor pon arrival I was handed a very lengthy uestionnaire asking where I had been and what I had done Sadly, I ticked yes to almost everything Next was an interview with a doctor He studied my uestionnaire intently You were in jungle, mountain, cities and deserts? he asked, suspiciously I nodded in the affirmative You slept in hotels, tents, out in the open and in huts? he continued Again I nodded You ate in markets, homes, restaurants and cooked your own food? I began to resemble a bobblehead doll hat animals did you come into contact with? he asked, growing somewhat desperate that any hope of narrowing the field of possible contaminants was uickly disappearing I rode a horse, I answered And I pushed away a stray dog Oh yeah, I suddenly remembered And there was a cheetah At that the doctor put down the uestionnaire and stared at me almost malevolently A cheetah? he spat Yeah It was sprawled dead across the road at dawn, I began e didn’t want anyone to run over it so we got out and carried it to the side His expression became incredulous And finally, one more uestion, he stated, s uirming uncomfortably in his chair Did you have sex with any animals? he hurriedly asked, while tapping his pen and intentionally staring at the ceiling or the first time that day, I answered no to a uestion The doctor looked relieved I was drained of blood, poked, prodded and tested in every way The results were indeterminate e thought perhaps it was toxoplasmosis, the doctor explained But it wasn’t I’m afraid we’ll just have to put it down as one of those things’ you sometimes get when roughing it After a couple of months I was back to normal and none the wiser as to the unwanted souvenir that I had unwittingly brought home with me www.outpostmagazine.com
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L E V A R T e r u t n adve e f i l o t t h g u o r b
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