Reluctant flier Tim Grey finds Chris McLennan on top of the world.

Words and Images by Tim Grey

Not everyone loves flying. For some, it represents the freedom of gliding through the cumulus, unbothered by such trifling concerns as gravity or the frailty of the human body relative to, say, the ground. To others – myself, for example – planes are a highly unnatural activity, to which the sensible response is white-knuckled fear, cold sweat and nausea. I experienced all three flying into Queenstown on a windless day. And as a member of photographer Chris McLennan’s entourage, things were only going to get worse.

When Chris invited me to join him on his recent shoot for fashion brand New Zealand Auckland, he frequently mentioned the words “helicopter”, “ski plane” and “right on the side of Mount Cook” with undisguised relish. I decided not to mention my philosophical position on all three of those things, and wondered whether his opinion of me would change once I began shrieking.

Chris, a distinguished travel photographer for 20 years, began his career in the South Island, and once we start heading through the Mackenzie Country and into the Southern Alps, it’s clear he’s at home.

“It’s something that you have to experience, really, to know,” says Chris, explaining his feelings about shooting in the mountains. “It’s just overwhelmingly awe inspiring. You can show some of the scale of it, but there’s a real emotional feel when you land up there.”

As an Australian unfamiliar with the idea of mountains, I find myself hanging out the window of the Land Rover. He’s not wrong.

With us is Catherine, Chris’s wife, a logistical wizard capable of turning around the direst of screw-ups. Russell Thomson, Chris’s assistant, former professional skier and astounding Michael Douglas lookalike, arrives from Christchurch with the rest of the team: our fine models, Sara, Jeroen and Peter, and also New Zealand Auckland sales manager, Phil, who’s accompanying a box of new clothing. He seems pleased with the arrangement.

We go through a day-by-day plan, outlining which items of clothing are to be shot when. The beauty of using Aoraki/Mt Cook as a location is that Chris can make shots of the models in summer and winter outfits all in the one place – if the weather is friendly, that is. At present the mountain is entirely lost to cloud. However, we’ve got it on good meteorological authority that by day three she’ll be golden.

The first day of shooting goes pretty much as planned: Sara stands around the Land Rover looking beautiful and wearing nice clothes. We find a top-notch puddle and make her drive through it looking svelte, a great action shot. I give shooting it a try, but it’s difficult getting the exposure correct with the brightly lit background. Chris inadvertently reveals one of the Photographer’s Secrets: he travels with a wee stepladder to get those tricky angles (I’ve got a photograph of him atop it in the middle of a field but he wouldn’t let me print it).

Even as the weather breaks and the mountain emerges from behind the clouds, there’s a lingering concern: the rest of the clothes still haven’t arrived. This is not a minor issue. It’s difficult to do a fashion shoot without clothes.

By day three, as predicted, the Alps are bathed in light. It’s an extraordinary office. The range thrusts vertically from a wide plain scooped out by the movement of a giant glacier.

Catherine has also managed to locate the clothes. Unfortunately, they’re not waiting in the lobby, but split between a warehouse in Auckland and somewhere en route between Timaru and Twizel. In a display of logistical prowess, Catherine decides we’ll head the courier truck off at the pass, while manipulating a mate in Auckland to deliver the box herself, taking an early-morning Auckland/Queenstown flight and hitching a ride with a helicopter from there.

We catch the first light the next day (I didn’t know they had a 5 o’clock in the morning as well), twitching with cold until the sun creeps over the mountains. When it does the effect is incredible, with every dewdrop and grass seed glowing orange.

By 11 there’s no avoiding it: I’ve got to get in the helicopter. It’s black, shiny and professional-looking, which I take to be a sign of confidence. Once it’s in the air the scenery is so spectacular I forget to be terrified. We land behind a hut just below the summit, and the jagged peaks of ice flow down the mountainside like waves. It’s something else. One of the models is crying, and who could blame him?

“Once you set foot out of that helicopter on the Glacier in the middle of summer…” says Chris, struggling to find the words. “I’ve done it probably 30 times, but it’s the same feeling every time.”

Chris shoots the talent against this stunning backdrop, integrating the helicopter into the scene. He suggests they take a joy flight with the doors off, and the pilot whizzes past us at eye level, banking against the peaks around us. The occupants emerge giggling and wobbly.

Most of us round out the day sunburnt and overstimulated. Although it was beautiful and lots of fun, there’s undoubtedly an element of danger to the proceedings, with slips and crevasses clearly visible – and others not so.

“We were up there on an absolute perfect day and everything went well, and probably anyone who hadn’t been up there thought it was just a beautiful place to be in the sun. But had the weather changed, you’re in a pretty serious situation that’s potentially life threatening,” points out Chris. “You’ve got to treat the big mountain with respect, really, because it’ll win when it comes down to it.”
There’s more aeronautical daring the next morning as we cram into a rather sporting yellow and red ski plane. The pilot tells me he used to be a truck driver in Timaru. I freak out a little bit.

We fly up the valley, following the Tasman Glacier to its nape. Our pilot brings us in so smoothly it’s like he’s parking his truck.

On the glacier it’s pristine, and because it’s still early the sun is snaking up the ice and bare rock. The snow works like a giant reflector and everything’s perfectly lit, so it can be a bit tricky getting your exposure just so.

“The metering is getting so good in the cameras now, it’s reasonably good at looking after it,” explains Chris. “But you kind of need to keep an eye on it to make sure the whites aren’t over exposed, especially if you’re shooting people in dark clothing that are backlit on the white snow. You’ve got to know what you’re doing.”

Chris finishes shooting the final few outfits, which includes a session of Peter dousing Sara and Jeroen in champagne (it’s a tough job but someone’s got to do it).

Scooting off the glacier, our pilot unexpectedly decides we might like to fly directly into the mountain, banking at the very last minute. I’d have preferred not to but I’ll admit the view was good.
Decompressing before a beer in the hotel lounge, Chris tells me he’s happy with the results of the trip.

“It was great. It was epic,” he enthuses. “It was long but it was awesome. I think we’ve got everything the client wanted and definitely more.”

Once it’s all over and we’ve said our farewells, I trundle aboard the 737, smelly, sunburnt and a little snowblind. As the plane jutters into flight and the children shriek and wail around me, I sit completely serene: cured.

In Chris’s Kit:

Canon 1Ds Mark III
The 1Ds really is the big one: it’s rugged, fast and features a full-frame sensor with 21 megapixels to make images the size of a house.

Canon 1Ds Mark III
The only thing better than one 1Ds is two of them. Chris can keep a long and wide lens on the go simultaneously, while giving himself a backup if, heaven forbid, he drops one out of a helicopter.

Canon 5D Mark II
Perfect for when Chris gets the urge to make HD video, and a great backup (if he ever drops two 1Dses from a helicopter).

EF 400mm f/2.8 L IS USM lens
Nicknamed Big Bertha and weighing in somewhere just under a tonne, the 400mm lens lets Chris look at a fly on the side of a mountain.

EF 70-200mm f/2.8 L IS USM
The most versatile of lenses, the 70-200m is almost permanently attached to Chris’s camera. It works well as a portrait lens but lets him get in close when he has to.

Reflector
Essentially a shiny piece of material, this simple tool allows Chris to light a backlit subject, getting his exposure correct in tricky situations.

HP DreamColor
It’s essential for Chris to be able to edit his photos on the fly, which he can do on the enormous HP screen.

Lowepro Pro Trekker 400 AW
Chris needs a heavy-duty bag to lug this lot, but it must still be portable. The Flipside will fit a camera body with a 300mm attached, an extra body, four to six lenses and all his other gear.

Images: Tim Grey, Chris McLennan

Be Chris’ assistant on an overseas shoot

Are you a budding travel photographer in search of adventure?

Chris has some incredible trips planned for this year and he’s offering one lucky D-Photo reader the opportunity to learn from a master, travelling abroad with Chris on an all expenses paid trip. Not for the faint-hearted, the winner will accompany him on a professional shoot and help out on the job – a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get some hands-on experience with a pro.

For you to be considered, we’ll need a portfolio of six images, along with a short bio and 100 words on why you’re the best person for the job.

Entries are open until Friday April 16, 2010.

Send all entries to Chris McLennan Travel Contest, PO Box 46020 Herne Bay, Auckland 1147, or via email to tgrey@parkside.co.nz.

Photos should have a printable size of around A4 at 300dpi. Please remember to include your contact details.

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