My take.
Last month, my husband Mike and I went to a photography lecture at the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix. (If you’re in the Phoenix area and have never been to the DBG, treat yourself; you won’t be disappointed.) The lecture was given by Arizona Highways magazine photo editor Jeff Kida and covered photographing wildflowers. (Jeff took the excellent portrait of me that you’ll find on this Web site and elsewhere; I wrote more about him and this photo in February.) We’d had a very wet winter and although the desert was greening up at the time, no one was sure whether we’d have a good wildflower season. So far, it’s turned out to be spectacular in certain parts of the Phoenix area, including Wickenburg, where I live.
Desert chicory’s white flowers among golden poppies. (Click for a larger image.)
The lecture included a discussion of equipment and that equipment list included a tripod. I have a tripod — in fact, I’m ashamed to say that I have numerous tripods, far more than any one person should have. (I was always looking for the right tripod and have finally zeroed in on a good combination with a Manfrotto tripod and ball head.) And I agree that everyone serious photographer should have a tripod.
But then Jeff said something I’d never thought about. I wish I could remember his exact words. The gist was that using a tripod would automatically improve your photographs.
Whoa. This was something that interested me. Although I have all these darn tripods, I don’t use them very often. Maybe I should.
A Tripod Eliminates Camera Shake
I mostly use them for low-light situations when I absolutely must have a tripod. After all, a tripod’s main purpose is to hold the camera steady to take the shot. When used with a cable release (or similar device) or the camera’s built-in timer, motion from external sources should be eliminated. The final image should be clearer. But that was low light. Surely on a bright sunny day — just about every day here in Arizona — a tripod wouldn’t be necessary.
I also put a lot of faith in my camera’s VR (vibration reduction) lenses. I have two of them now and I can clearly hear the VR motor kicking in when I prepare to take a shot. Surely that would help keep my camera steady for each shot.
A blanket of poppies and other wildflowers cover a hillside in the Sonoran desert near my home. (Click for a larger image.)
But since that lecture, I’ve been giving my photography a lot of thought. For the past two years, I’ve noticed a serious decline in the clarity of my photos. I was beginning to think it was the camera (a Nikon D80, now 3-1/2 years old) or my preferred lens (a Nikon 16mm-85mm zoom). Perhaps one or both of them needed adjustment or cleaning. I even went so far as to print out warranty repair authorizations for both of them in preparation for sending them back to Nikon for inspection, cleaning, and possible repair.
Perhaps the problem wasn’t my equipment. Perhaps it was me. Maybe I think I’m holding the camera steady for each shot or that there’s enough light to get the image, but maybe I’m moving the camera when I “snap” the photo by pressing down on the shutter release. Maybe I’m ruining my own photos. Or at least preventing them from being as good as they could be.
I decided to experiment by using my tripods and cable release more often. By ensuring that there’s no camera shake when images are being captured, I can eliminate camera shake as a cause of my problem. If the problem persists, I know it’s either bad focusing on my part or the camera’s. Since I don’t have the best vision, I trust my camera’s autofocus feature to get the focus right. So either I’m not telling the camera to focus on the right thing (my fault) or the camera can’t focus properly (the camera’s fault). Using a tripod would help me troubleshoot the source of the problem.
Using a Tripod Forces You to Slow Down and Compose Properly
This is my secret poppy place on the east side of Vulture Peak near Wickenburg, AZ. (Click for a larger image.)
I went on a photo shoot the other day out in the desert near my home. The poppies were blooming and I knew exactly where to find a lot of them. (Hint: Getting there requires a Jeep, ATV, or horse.) We took the Jeep out and found the poppies right where I expected them. We also found lupines, chicory, and a bunch of other flowers I didn’t even know existed.
The big problem with the site is that the flowers covered a steep hillside. Setting up a tripod was a royal pain in the butt. I admit that I cheated and took quite a few shots the lazy way. But then I remembered my mission and went through the bother of setting up my tripod and cable release and framing the photos. It slowed me down considerably. But I reminded myself that I wasn’t in a race. The best light was already gone for most of the day and the flowers weren’t going anywhere.
And that’s when I realized that using a tripod had yet another benefit: it forced me to slow down and pay close attention to what I was doing. It forced me to try harder to make every shot count. Because of all the extra time and effort required to make each photograph, I was motivated to put more effort into composition.
Could that be what Jeff meant?
The Jury is Still Out
The few photos on this post are among those I made that day. In general, I’m more pleased with the quality of the images. But I’m not done testing to see if the problem is with me or my camera. It’ll take more photo shoots with the tripod to convince me.
In the meantime, it’ll be interesting to see if I can shoot better photos just because I’m using a tripod.
Any thoughts on this? I’d really like to get some feedback from other photographers.
We made a sharp left to continue along Rincon Road. It climbs out of the river area into the low mountains northwest of town. At an obvious intersection, we made a right to continue on Rincon. This short piece of road is extremely rough but offers outstanding views back toward Wickenburg, as well as lots of typical Sonoran desert vegetation. And rocks — did I mention the rocks?
There were some exceptions, of course. One was Sand Mill, site of windmill, cattle tanks, and corral. I have a thing about windmills and did my usual study of this one. Unfortunately, it was broken, although I do think it could be repaired. What I found more interesting was the welded iron water tank behind it and the fencing around the corral — which was in unusually good shape. There had been two cows standing in the area when we drove up, but they ran off when we stopped. Cows out in the open range are funny like that. No matter how hard you try to not spook them, they get spooked anyway.
Later on, near a place called Brick Tank, I managed to get this shot of two cows. They stood there for about two minutes just staring at us as I rolled the Jeep into position and framed this shot. Then, just as I pushed down on the shutter, the smaller one (on the left) turned her head and ran off. The other followed, of course.
We also passed a herd of about eight mule deer along the way. I stopped while Mike tried to get some photos. They weren’t quite close enough for our lenses — we hadn’t brought along my 70-300mm zoom. Here’s my only shot, which I admit isn’t very good. I cropped it here.
We drove across Antelope Creek, which still running as a small stream with a mix of spring water and runoff from snow and rain at higher elevations the previous week. I threw the Jeep into 4WD and powered up a steep, narrow Jeep trail with lots of loose rock. When I leveled out and could see the road beyond, I realized that I just wasn’t prepared to go any farther. The road was very narrow, very steep, and covered with very loose rock. I was tired from almost 2 hours of driving on back roads. I’d had enough rough road exploring.
We got out for a while to take photographs in the area. There was a lot of slate-like rock, standing straight up. Much of the rock was covered with orange and yellow lichen. It made an interesting contrast to the green and brown of the desert, the blue of the sky, and the deep shadows cast by late afternoon sun. The light hadn’t gotten “good” yet, but it wasn’t bad — probably because of its low winter angle.
We also walked down to Antelope Creek. It was great to see so much water flowing in the desert. I knew that downstream, the flow dried up before it even reached Stanton. I tried to get some photos that showed reflections in pools of relatively smooth water. The water, in some places, was about two feet deep. Although Jack the Dog drank some of it without side effect, I wouldn’t think of drinking it without treating it first; just too much open range and wildlife in the area. (That’s why its best to bring your own water, even if you know you might find some along the way.)
But first, we stopped at one of the few buildings that remain at Octave, another ghost town. The afternoon sun had drifted down quite low when we arrived and I think I got some of my best photos of the day. I have a thing about photographing abandoned buildings, and even though this was a small one, it kept me busy for a good 20 minutes. This is one of my favorite shots.
We also stopped alongside the road where the boulder-and-saguaro-strewn side of Rich Hill was illuminated by the low-lying sun. As you look at this photo, remember that each cactus stands at least 15 feet tall. Really gives you an idea of how big the boulders are, no? The horizontal version of this photo will be my desktop pattern.
If you’re interested in following our route, I offer 
We made a few brief stops. Box Canyon was one of them. But there were motorcycles there with loud engines and we didn’t stay long. Instead, we continued upstream, into the narrow slot canyon. The water flowed from wall to wall within the canyon and I had the windshield wipers going as I slipped around in the soft sand. We stopped for a moment to take a photo of the way we’d come.
We continued on. The river was flowing through a canyon, but the way was still passable. We soon saw the remains of a mine site on the right side of the hill. We turned the Jeep into a promising canyon where other vehicles had driven but soon reached a dead end where rocks blocked our way. We parked, got out, and hiked up the hill.
Following a narrow path for a better view down into the river, I came across a tunnel carved into the solid granite at the side of the hill. We passed through and continued onto the other side.
As we admired the view, we heard the sound of a vehicle. Down in the riverbed, a truck was driving downstream. It stopped only long enough for the driver to point out a mine shaft to his passenger, then continued on down the river. I don’t think they saw us or our Jeep.
