Blog #30 - January, The Arctic, and What Comes Next...

Starting the Year Without a Plan

This is the first blog of 2025, but it is not a New Year's blog. Life got in the way for a few weeks and I am only now getting back to it. That feels about right, actually. I have never been someone who treats January 1st as a magical reset button.

January has a reputation for being difficult. People talk about the January blues like they are a given, something that arrives whether you want them or not. The decorations come down, the routine kicks back in, and suddenly everything feels ordinary again. I have never been someone who makes New Year's resolutions. They always felt like setting yourself up for disappointment. But I do think about goals. Things I want to move towards rather than things I promise to complete.

This year started differently for me. I spent the first part of January at 70 degrees north in Skjervøy, Norway, then crossed into Finland to chase the aurora around Kilpisjärvi. It was not a photography trip in the traditional sense, although I took plenty of photographs. It was more about being somewhere remote with Junior, a good mate who also happens to be an excellent photographer. Someone who understands the process without needing to explain it.

When you start a year in the Arctic rather than at home, it changes your perspective. You skip past the usual January drag because you are too busy dealing with minus 20 degrees, mountains that do not see the sun, and landscapes that make you stop and realise how small you are in comparison.

That shift helped. I came back with a clearer sense of where I want photography to go this year, even if I do not have all the details figured out yet.

Taking Stock of Where I Am

I have been doing this photography thing properly for nearly a year now. Weekly Prime has become a routine I rely on. The blog has turned into something I look forward to writing rather than something I force myself to complete. The Instagram account has grown steadily without me chasing followers or trying to game the algorithm. People seem to respond to honesty more than polish, which suits me well because polish has never been my strong point.

But I have been thinking about what comes next. Weekly Prime works because it has structure. One prime lens, one week, one image. It forces me to commit to a focal length and work within that constraint. The blog works because it gives me space to reflect on what I am learning rather than just posting images without context. Both of those things have become part of how I approach photography.

What I have been less clear about is the broader direction. Am I building towards something specific, or am I just enjoying the process without worrying about where it leads? That question sat with me through most of December and followed me into January. I do not think I have a complete answer yet, but spending time in Norway and Finland gave me more clarity than I expected.

Why January Is Hard

January does test you. The days are short. The weather is rubbish. The financial hangover from Christmas kicks in. You go from a period where everything feels a bit more generous and forgiving to a month where it all tightens back up again. Some people handle it better than others. I am not always one of those people.

Photography has become one of the ways I manage it. It gives me a reason to get outside even when I do not particularly feel like it. It gives me something to focus on when my head starts going in circles.

This year, being in the Arctic during the polar night was a strange kind of therapy. The sun did not rise at all while we were in Skjervøy. You get about three hours of blue hour that fades into darkness, and that is it for the day. It sounds bleak written down, but it was not. The light was incredible. Soft, gradual, and worth waiting for.

That experience reminded me that photography works best for me when it is about noticing rather than chasing. I do not need dramatic light or perfect conditions. I need enough light to work with and the patience to wait for it to do something interesting.

Skjervøy and the Whales

Skjervøy sits at the edge of the Norwegian coast, surrounded by fjords and mountains that rise straight out of the water. We went there specifically to photograph orcas and humpback whales. The plan was to snorkel with them one day and shoot from a RIB the next.

The snorkelling day started early. Breakfast, safety brief, then into dry suits with more layers underneath than I thought possible. Junior had a healthy dose of antiemetics on board to deal with the sea sickness that was bound to hit him. The water temperature was around minus one degree. The air was colder especially when we picked up speed on the boat. We headed out on a twin engine RIB that cut through the fjord with ice building up on the front as we went. Three hours on that boat in those conditions was harsh, but it was worth it.

When we got in the water, everything went quiet. The orcas moved below us, close enough that you could see details on their bodies. Humpbacks surfaced nearby, exhaling with enough force that you felt the spray. I shot everything on a DJI Osmo Action 5 because it was the only camera I could keep running in the cold and under water. No proper camera this time.

The second day we went back out without getting in the water. This time I had the Sony A7III with the 200 to 600mm. I thought the extra reach would help, but it turned out to be almost too long. The whales were closer than I expected and the lens struggled to track them properly. I missed a spy hopping orca because it surfaced too close and I did not have time to aim and frame it. If I had brought the 70 to 200mm instead, I would have nailed it. Lesson learned.

The movement of the boat made focus difficult. The light kept changing as clouds moved across what little sky was visible. The auto white balance wasn’t going well with the pink and blue sky against the bright white snow covered mountains and the blackness of the water. My screen was like a disco light as it tried to compensate, so I set it to cloudy (7000-8000K). I took over 700 images and probably have about 30 usable ones. That ratio tells you everything about how unpredictable the conditions were.

The whales did not perform on cue. They surfaced when they wanted to and disappeared just as quickly. You had to stay ready and hope you were pointing in the right direction when something happened. It was frustrating and brilliant in equal measure.

The Light That Does Not Arrive

One of the strangest parts of being that far north in winter is the absence of sunrise. The sun does not clear the horizon. You get a glow that builds for a couple of hours, peaks around midday, then fades back into darkness by mid afternoon. It plays with your sense of time. Mornings feel like evenings. Afternoons feel like late nights. Your body clock stops making sense.

That light was perfect for landscape photography. The mountains glowed with this soft, indirect light that lasted far longer than normal golden hour. The valleys stayed in shadow while the peaks caught whatever warmth was left in the sky. It created contrast without harshness, which is exactly what you want when shooting wide landscapes.

I spent a lot of time with the 20mm prime during those drives. Wide enough to pull in the scale of the mountains but not so wide that everything felt distorted. We stopped whenever the light opened up, shot what we could, then kept moving. Most of the time we were the only people on the road.

That isolation was part of what made it work. No crowds, no pressure, no sense that you were competing for the same shot as everyone else. Just you, the camera, and whatever the landscape decided to offer.

Finland and the Aurora

After Norway, we crossed into Finland and stayed near Kilpisjärvi. The plan was simple. Wait for the aurora and shoot it when it appeared. We had a couple of clear nights and the aurora showed up both times. Not the screaming green arcs you see in heavily processed images, but real, shifting curtains of light that moved across the sky at their own pace. It was sometimes a toss up between shooting it and just watching it in awe!

Most places in the world, aurora photography means setting up your tripod in the cold and hoping something happens before you freeze. Here it was different. The aurora was constant. We spent hours out on the veranda with plenty of handbeers, watching it shift and change. You could set up, shoot, then go back inside to warm up before heading out again. It was not a race against time. It was just there, doing its thing, all night. Our only enemy was cloud cover which inevitably came back!

We also did a snowmobile trip to the Three Country Cairn, where Sweden, Norway, and Finland all meet. 30 kilometres across a frozen lake in pitch darkness, following a guide who knew the route by memory. We hit 40 to 50 kilometres per hour with only two other bikes out there. It was brilliant. The kind of thing you do not forget.

Standing at that cairn, in the middle of nowhere, with three countries within a few steps of each other, was worth the journey. It reminded me why I travel with a camera. Not to document landmarks or tick off locations, but to experience places that feel different from anything familiar.

Working with Junior

One of the best parts of the trip was spending time with Junior. He is a far better photographer than I am, and watching how he approaches a scene taught me more than any YouTube tutorial ever could. He does not overthink it. He sees something, frames it, shoots it, and moves on. No second guessing. No endless adjustments.

That confidence comes from experience, and I am not there yet. But being around it helped. It gave me permission to trust my instincts more and worry less about whether I was doing things the right way. There is no right way. There is just what works for the shot in front of you.

We also spent time talking about photography in a way that felt productive rather than theoretical. What lenses work in certain conditions. How to handle extreme cold. When to push ISO and when to accept that the shot is not going to happen. Practical stuff that only makes sense when you are actually dealing with it. An example of this was taking a kitchen knife to my gloves to create a flap for my index finger so I could use the settings on the camera easier.

Where I Want Photography to Go This Year

I came back from the Arctic with a clearer sense of direction. I want to keep doing Weekly Prime because it works. I want to keep writing the blog because it helps me process what I am learning. But I also want to push into more challenging environments. Events, low light, wildlife, landscapes that require patience rather than perfect conditions.

I want to get better at using off camera flash. I am getting there with back button focus and do not use anything else now, but it still needs more work in challenging conditions. I want to shoot more film, even though it is slower and more expensive, because it forces me to think before pressing the shutter. I want to take on work that scares me a little because that is where the learning happens.

I also want to be honest about the fact that I do not have it all figured out. This is still a learning process. I am still making mistakes, still missing focus, still coming home with memory cards full of shots that do not work. That is fine. It is part of it.

Managing January Without Losing Momentum

The trip helped me avoid the worst of the January slump, but I know it will catch up with me eventually. It always does. The key is recognising it when it arrives and having strategies in place to manage it. For me, that means keeping the camera within reach. It means committing to Weekly Prime even when I do not feel like shooting. It means writing the blog even when the words do not come easily.

Photography works as a coping mechanism because it pulls me out of my head. It forces me to pay attention to what is actually in front of me rather than whatever my brain has decided to worry about. That shift matters more than the images themselves, although the images are a nice bonus.

What Comes Next

I do not know exactly where this year will take me photographically. I have ideas rather than plans. I want to shoot more events. I want to travel to places that challenge me. I want to keep learning in public rather than pretending I have it all sorted.

What I do know is that photography has become something I rely on. A way of making sense of the world, of slowing down when everything feels too fast, of noticing details I would otherwise miss. That consistency matters more than any single image or project.

January is hard for a lot of people. If you are struggling with it, you are not alone. Find something that pulls you out of your own head, even for a short while. For me, that is photography. For you, it might be something else. Whatever it is, do not wait for motivation to show up. Just start, even when you do not feel like it. Momentum builds from small actions, not grand plans.

The Arctic reminded me that some of the best experiences come from putting yourself in uncomfortable situations and seeing what happens. Cold, dark, unpredictable, and absolutely worth it.

Here is to a year of learning, making mistakes, and showing up even when it is difficult.