Harnessing Light in the Wild: Using a Strobe for Adventure Photography

I see landscape photography as an intimate exchange between the photographer and the natural world; a quiet moment of observation and connection. It amazes me how drastically an environment can change with the smallest shifts in light, from flat and muted to a burst of contrast and vivid colour. For a long time, I believed that capturing these moments had to be done entirely with natural light, free of any human influence. While I still hold a deep respect for natural photography, this journey onto the glacier revealed that this mindset can be limiting. Sometimes, stepping beyond what feels natural opens the door to a whole new realm of creativity and storytelling, showing the natural world in a way that feels beautifully unfamiliar.

Julio Figueredo Climbs in a Moulin while Pete O’Hara belays him under the Northern Lights

My first experience with a strobe - a high-powered flash used in photography to control lighting - was in a studio setting during a client shoot. Coming from a landscape background, the tool felt completely foreign. A few years later, I was hired to photograph a local pond hockey team, and their request to shoot outdoors at night forced me to revisit the strobe. For this shoot, I used two lights, and for the first time, I began to understand their potential. Moving the lights, adjusting their power—it all felt like sculpting the scene rather than simply capturing it. The way the strobes reshaped the subjects fascinated me. This was the moment I realized these lights could bring an entirely new dimension to wilderness photography.

After photographing climbers in a moulin — A vertical hole created by the pooling of water on a glacier. — during the day, I realized it was the perfect location to test a strobe in a wild environment. The unique shapes and textures of the ice seemed like an ideal canvas for experimenting with light. I began planning a few shots and reached out to some climbers who were excited to help bring these ideas to life.

Over two nights, we worked to make it happen. Each day involved driving 8 hours, carrying camera gear, climbing gear, and pushing through the night without sleep. These photos were a true collaboration, made possible by the climbers’ dedication and effort. Their commitment turned this vision into reality. Without their skill, trust and willingness to endure, capturing these photos would have not been possible.

Hayden Ewing rappels into the moulin as a storm blows overhead

Julio Figueredo, Hayden Ewing, Amanda Figueredo and I arrived to the glacier and were met with close to 100km/h gusts of wind. Committed, we pushed forward onto the glacier. My notes for this intended photo went as follows “At night. Strobe on surface facing into Moulin. Camera at the base looking up. Climber scaling wall. Preferably on lead”.

Inside the glacier, it was quiet. I could hear soft moans of the wind above, small particles of snow trickled down falling as if during a romantic night out. I knew this was a stark contrast to what was really happening on the surface. The wind at times felt like it could throw you to the ground, the snow bit any exposed skin. I enjoyed this moment of peace within the Moulin. Amanda stood on the surface holding the strobe, taking the full force of this storm. She remained stoic for most the night only releasing one sentence to me that revealed her discomfort “This better be fucking worth it”, with a completely blank stare.

Eventually, Julio and Hayden got into position. Hayden rappelled into the moulin and I captured the photo. Julio refused to climb as he was growing concerned for his wife. She’s a badass in her own right, but not accustomed to this harsh environment, not many people are. We decided to head home. 8 hours of driving, 2 hours of hiking all for one photo. Julio slept 1 hour before heading to work the next day.

Julio scales the wall as he crosses a large crevasse inside of an ice tunnel

Two days later Julio, Pete O’Hara and I returned to the glacier with better weather. After exploring the glacier for a while, we discovered a smaller moulin with a horizontal tunnel starting midway down. I rappelled to a snow bridge — a snow bridge is the accumulation of snow over a crevasse, sometimes weak and easy to fall through — at the tunnel’s entrance, where I built an anchor and signalled Pete and Julio to join me. Once Pete rappelled down, he stomped out a spot for himself on the snow, we both felt the bridge vibrate under his weight; a clear example of how fragile our position was. When Julio joined us, the three of us stood cautiously on the delicate bridge, fully aware of its instability.

I geared up and started traversing into the tunnel, placing screws in the icy walls, I had doubt that the floor in the tunnel was stable. Julio belayed me from the entrance. Halfway through, I came across a deep crevasse with water rushing below. Shining my light into it, I couldn’t see the bottom. The sound of the water’s echo confirmed it was much deeper than it appeared. Using the walls on either side, I carefully climbed over the gap and made my way to the end of the tunnel, where I built another anchor. Julio followed.

At the tunnel’s entrance, Pete held the strobe. With every shot, I counted down to avoid seriously blinding him. The strobe’s effect on the ice was quite unique—it brought out textures, colours, and contrasts that natural light doesn’t achieve. The experience of getting this photo felt like a full expedition into the glacier. We maneuvered through the delicate environment and the resulting image captured the beauty of the scene in a way I personally have never seen before.

Julio Figueredo Climbs in a Moulin while Pete O’Hara belays him under the Northern Lights

Once we returned to the surface, we saw the faint glow of the aurora above us. We quickly gathered our gear and rushed back to the original large moulin. My initial notes for this photo went as follows “Strobe at bottom of Moulin facing up. Climber on lead or top rope within 10 meters from the top. Light illuminates details in Ice and adds contrast to textures. Camera on surface. Starry sky or milky way positioned above.” The Northern Lights were never a part of the plan, they are too unpredictable. Most of the time, my attempts to capture them end with nothing. Seeing them on this night felt intimate, like a gift.

I quickly built an anchor and rappelled 30 meters into the Moulin, setting up the strobe on a narrow ledge of snow, aimed straight up. Jugging the rope back to the surface, I worked with Julio and Pete as they set up a top rope. Pete lowered Julio onto an overhanging section of ice and I moved into position. When everything aligned, I captured this shot.

In many ways, this photo feels like a culmination of my entire journey as a photographer. It demanded technical skill in both ice climbing and photography. The strobe highlights the natural beauty of the moulin, while the northern lights amplify the scene’s raw power. This is, without a doubt, my best photo to date.

Final Statement

This was my first attempt at integrating a strobe into landscape photography, and it’s opened my eyes to an entirely new realm of creative possibilities. Throughout this journey my perspective on landscape photography shifted. From a certain perspective, I was a purest, idolizing completely natural techniques to capture the natural world. I now see that the strobe isn’t just a tool for adding light; it’s a way to shape a story and emphasize the beauty of nature in ways that natural light cannot always achieve. Whether it’s unveiling the textures of ice, as in Image 2, or highlighting key elements of nature, as in Image 3, the potential for using the strobe in these vast environments feels limitless. I’m inspired to continue exploring this potential and to showcase the beautifully unfamiliar.