One of the most impres­sive views I have ever seen in my life is high up in the north on the island of Kalsoy. There, at Kallur Light­house, you can look from the eastern view­point over the edge to the nort­hern view­point and see as far west as the nort­hern line of the Faroe Islands. In the evening, when the sun sets in the north-west, the light here is wonderful and sensa­tional. If a hiker then walks over the edge, the impres­sive dimen­sions become clear even in pictures and a wonderful depth is created in the image. 

One of my most successful shots from the Faroe Islands in terms of compo­si­tion. And it was successful on the very first evening. Before the trip, I had already thought about whether it would be possible to take a picture of the houses on the old farm in Saksun toge­ther with the water­fall rushing down into the village. An extreme perspec­tive should make this possible. I stood with both feet and the tripod in the water for this shot. The camera was quite close above the rushing water. With the right expo­sure time and the right moment, the water should then fit, crea­ting an inte­res­ting shape and your line into the picture and to the little houses. 

Ein weiteres Bild mit inter­es­santem Bild­aufbau des Bauernhof in Saksun. Schon im Vorfeld, vor der Reise, hatte ich über­legt, ob es möglich sein könnte, die Häuser des alten Bauern­hofs in Saksun gemeinsam mit dem Wasser­fall, der dort ins Ort hinab rausch aufzu­nehmen. Eine extreme Perspek­tive sollte das ermög­li­chen. Ich stand für diese Aufnahme mit beiden Beinen und dem Stativ im Wasser. Die Kamera recht nahe über dem hinab­rau­schenden Wasser. Mit der rich­tigen Belich­tungs­zeit und dem rich­tigen Moment, sollte das Wasser dann passen, dass sich eine inter­es­sante Form un deine Linie hinein ins Bild und zu den Häuss­chen ergibt. 

Für diese Aufnahme, musste ich zuge­ge­be­ner­maßen mit der Drohne ein paar Meter aufsteigen. Mit dieser Perspek­tive hat man einen besseren Blick hinein in den Fjord­kessel und die Kirche ist zu dem Bauern­hof­häuss­chen besser gestaf­felt. Für diese Aufnahme habe ich mir genau diese Bedin­gungen gewünscht. Wolken­ver­han­gener Himmel und im besten Fall eine kleine Lücke am Hori­zont für etwas Licht. Da bei Ankunft vor Ort noch kein Licht zu sehen war, kümmerten wir uns erst um andere Aufnahmen, waren aber glück­li­cher­weise bereit, als die Wolken etwas LIcht durch­ließen. Eine meiner Lieb­lings­auf­nahmen aus den Färöer bisher. 

Für diese Aufnahme, musste ich zuge­ge­be­ner­maßen mit der Drohne ein paar Meter aufsteigen. Mit dieser Perspek­tive hat man einen besseren Blick hinein in den Fjord­kessel und die Kirche ist zu dem Bauern­hof­häuss­chen besser gestaf­felt. Für diese Aufnahme habe ich mir genau diese Bedin­gungen gewünscht. Wolken­ver­han­gener Himmel und im besten Fall eine kleine Lücke am Hori­zont für etwas Licht. Da bei Ankunft vor Ort noch kein Licht zu sehen war, kümmerten wir uns erst um andere Aufnahmen, waren aber glück­li­cher­weise bereit, als die Wolken etwas LIcht durch­ließen. Eine meiner Lieb­lings­auf­nahmen aus den Färöer bisher. 

It is these flee­ting moments that you can capture forever only thanks to photo­graphy. Like this moment when the fog that had comple­tely engulfed us disap­peared for just a few minutes and cleared this wonderful view. 

As a land­scape photo­grapher, you often have to push yourself to the limit to capture breath­ta­king images. Some­times you’re already stan­ding with one foot in the water, some­times with both feet in the mud, and some­times on the edge of the abyss. But you should never go beyond your own limits. Then photo­graphy gives you so much back. Beau­tiful pictures and great memo­ries of unique moments. You just must not be too dogged with the tech­nique, but can also enjoy times. And yes, the photo­grapher on the moun­tain is me. 

These are the moments you wait for as a photo­grapher. A flaw­less sky gives the photo­grapher a beau­tiful sunset over the Alps, which he captures on his camera. 

Ein Bild aus der frühen Zeit meiner Land­schafts­fo­to­grafie-Zeit. Damals, 2015, doku­men­tierte ich ledig­lich meine Reisen und Wande­rungen. Hier war ich beim Sonn­nen­auf­gang hinter der Gablonzer Hütte im Dach­stein­ge­birge. Eine wunder­schöne, ruhige Morgen­stim­mung die ich damals doku­men­tiert habe. Mit meinen neusten Fähig­keiten bei der Bild­be­ar­bei­tung 2023 neu editiert. 

Ein herr­li­ches Farb­spek­takel, dass die aufge­hende Sonne auf die weit entfernten Gebirgs­züge an diesem Morgen in den Öster­rei­chi­schen Alpen zauberte. Die Natur erweißt sich wiedermal als meis­ter­hafter Künstler. Wunderbar aufein­ander abge­stimmte Farb­har­mo­nien. Schöner als es sich ein Mensch hätte ausdenken können. 

Ich liebe diese Ausblicke! Du auch? Das Foto zeigt das Alpen­glühen an den hohen Gipfeln des Dach­stein­ge­birges. Wunder­schön warmes Licht, kurz bevor die Sonne über den Hori­zont gestiegen ist. Die warmen, fast schon ins Magenta über­ge­hende Farbe ließ Wolken und die schroffen Felsen wunderbar aufleuchten. Für mich defi­nitiv eine Aufnahme wert. 

Dies sind die Momente, die man als Land­schafts­fo­to­graf, sei es im Hobby oder als Profi, auch einfach mal genießen kann. Nach dem man sich früh morgens aus dem Bett und auf den Berg gequält hat, Stunden in der Kälte saß, um die best­mög­liche Kompo­si­tion für das Bild bei bestem Licht aufzu­nehmen. Dann spürt man die ersten wärmenden Sonnen­strahlen im Gesicht und genießt die wunder­schöne Weitsicht. 

Zum Ausklang des Sommers trieb es mich noch einmal zum Sonnen­auf­gang auf den Gipfel des Krip­pen­stein. Von dort aus konnte ich die ersten Sonnen­strahlen des Tages einfangen und einen herr­li­chen Blick über den Hall­stätter See und das Salz­kam­mergut genießen. Es erin­nert mich an meine Gedanken an diesem Morgen: “Wir sollten mehr Berg­tage und weniger Büro­tage erleben.” 

Am Ende eines Talkes­sels liegt ein abge­le­gener Wasser­fall, oder soll ich sagen eine Wasser­fall­arena. Denn der Wasser­fall teilt sich auf mehrere Strömen auf. Quer verteilt über die steilen Felsen­wände stürzt er hier ins Tal hinab. An einer Stelle jedoch kompri­mieren sich die Ströme auf eine Stelle, durch der das gesam­melte Wasser hindurch muss. Durch dieses Bottle Neck — Flaschen­hals — fließt der gesamte Wasser­strom hindurch. Diese Engstelle habe ich in diesem Bild foto­gra­fisch fest­ge­halten. Ich finde, man kann das Rauschen des Wassers förm­lich sehen. 

Ende des Sommers bekam ich diesen Wasser­fall als Öster­reichs schönsten Wasser­fall für unseren Aufent­halt in Öster­reich empfohlen. Im Internet habe ich viele Bild­kom­po­si­tionen gefunden die alle nicht schlecht anzu­schauen waren, aber mich dennoch nicht voll­ends über­zeugten. Vor Ort suchte ich so lange bis ich zufrieden war. Die Umge­bung als auch der Wasser­fall kommen wunderbar zur Geltung und das Wasser der Strom­schnellen führen wunderbar ins Bild hinein. 

When you stand at this huge moun­tain lake, surrounded by the high peaks of the Gosau­kamm, you would love to try to capture the whole scenery on a picture. Then you enjoy nature for a moment and take a deep breath. You look at the oppo­site bank and the reflec­tions of the water. Suddenly you realize that ever­y­thing it takes to photo­graph this lake fits on this one detail shot. The end result is that just by looking at this shot, you can take in the peace and quiet of nature. 

An wolken­be­han­genen Tagen, häufig auch nach Regen­schauern, kann man in den Wäldern der Berge beob­achten, wie Wolken auf die Spitzen der Bäume treffen. Als würden die Baum­spitzen der Tannen­bäume die Wolken fangen und fest­halten. Ein genauer Blick und eine präzise gewählte Bild­kom­po­si­tion, in der sich alle Elemente in Balance befinden, kann ein kunst­volles Bild erzeugen, so wie dieses hier. 

As deserted as I saw Hall­statt when I visited it for the first time, probably not so many tourists have seen it. I was there early in the morning, on a cloudy late summer day, even before the sun rose. The not so promi­sing weather made many linger in bed. But for a shot of Hallt­statt, I wanted exactly this moody atmo­sphere with low-hanging clouds. For me this photo is perfect and corre­sponds exactly to my ideas. 

Eine Szene die umso gewal­tiger erscheint, je länger man sie betrachtet. Ich glaubte selbst meinen Augen kaum, als sich am Ende des Engen Tals, ober­halb des riesigen Wasser­falls, plötz­lich die Wolken­decke aufriss und die Gipfel dieser monu­men­talen Berge freigab. Zum Glück, war ich bereit diese gewal­tige Natur­sze­nerie mit meiner Kamera einzufangen. 

Low clouds at the Seeren­bach water­falls in Switz­er­land make this stun­ning water­fall look like it’s flowing right out of the clouds. 

Rain, fog and clouds can some­times make for adven­turous scenes in the moun­tains. I had just put my tele­photo lens on the camera when this little ridge decided to peek out of the sea of clouds and fog for a brief moment. I pressed the shutter release. The shot was right. The very next moment the island in the sea of fog had already disap­peared. A short moment, which I give dura­tion with this photography. 

Ideal weather for photo­graphers in Switz­er­land this morning. So I could work out details of the land­scape surrounded by clouds, like this piece of forest that looked out of the clouds as if packed in absor­bent cotton. 

The sun had already set at my loca­tion and I was ready to pack the camera away. Then I noticed in the distance this moun­tain peak, which looked out of the clouds and was beau­tifully lit from behind. So I swit­ched to my tele­photo lens as quickly as I could and captured this beau­tiful serene mood. 

It is a motif that has already made it to a certain fame among photo­graphers. The lonely linden tree in front of the Schreck­horn. A very long focal length is neces­sary to take this shot. A side­ways morning light in a calm atmo­sphere and a crea­tive image proces­sing make this motif unique. 

Some­what above the old people’s and nursing home of Lauter­brunnen, you have a beau­tiful view in the evening, on the many lights of the place. Also the Staub­bach­fall itself is illu­mi­nated and offers a great view of the hundreds of meters high water­fall, even at night. 

Some­what above the old people’s and nursing home of Lauter­brunnen, you have a beau­tiful view in the evening, on the many lights of the place. Also the Staub­bach­fall itself is illu­mi­nated and offers a great view of the hundreds of meters high water­fall, even at night. 

A beau­tiful little church perched on a small hill near Lachen on Lake Zurich. 

The small chapel in the valley of the Furka Pass has certainly been viewed and photo­gra­phed by many passing motor­cy­clists and moto­rists. I, too, was looking for a nice compo­si­tion. Unfort­u­na­tely, I was on site during the midday hours. This made it parti­cu­larly diffi­cult. With this side shot and the parti­cular vege­ta­tion in the fore­ground, I was able to create an inte­res­ting image despite the central posi­tio­ning of the chapel. 

This beau­tiful inti­mate land­scape scene, I was able to discover in the Swiss canton of Ticino, in the valley of the famous village of Laver­tezzo. By choo­sing the compo­si­tion, I wanted to create a connec­tion between the small tree on the rugged rocks and the powerful stream of the water­fall in the back­ground. An expo­sure time of 0.5 sec. let indi­vi­dual leaves blur, but thus create the intended dyna­mics in the image and clari­fies the harsh envi­ron­ment, between water masses and rocks, for the little tree. 

It is a view that is beco­ming rare. Laver­tezzo, deserted, in the early summer morning hours. Already a few minutes after I took the picture, one could witness what the fame of this picturesque little village brings with it. Car after car with tourists rolled up, where there are hardly any parking spaces in this narrow valley in the Swiss Ticino. 

An impres­sive moun­tain massif in the middle of the hills of higher Tuscany in Italy. A picture that I took a few years ago. How picturesque the clouds look and how beau­tiful the rock, which stands out from the surroun­ding land­scape in such a special way, glows in the evening light. Defi­ni­tely a beau­tiful spot of nature and a great shot. 

The land­mark of the Dolo­mites, the Cinque Torri. In this shot, a long expo­sure of 2 minutes was used to show the clouds moving strongly due to the wind on the image. 

It is always impres­sive to hike on the Seceda. On the south side the green lush meadows and the rather flat approach, on the north side the steep slopes where the clouds gather and rise again and again. 

It doesn’t always take an epic sunset or pheno­menal light. Some­times you can find beau­tiful subjects on the brigh­test day, like this small hut in the Dolo­mites, in front of the moun­tain massif and the low-hanging clouds. 

If you start a moun­tain tour at 25° in the middle of summer, you will be surprised to see a small lake covered with snow and ice. 

In Italy, and espe­ci­ally in the moun­tai­nous South Tyrol, there are many winding roads uphill and downhill. I found this curve parti­cu­larly beau­tiful, which is why I quickly let my drone rise after passing through to photo­graph it “top-down”. Spectacular. 

A misty morning haze lay over the rocks and trees of the Elbe Sand­stone Moun­tains when I photo­gra­phed this lone pine tree. The already risen sun provided warm colors on the illu­mi­nated trees. 

On this beau­tiful morning, the first cold morning of the approa­ching autumn, the Elbe grew into a huge sea of fog. From near the Bastei Bridge I was able to take this picture of Gohrisch, Lili­en­stein and König­stein. Pure luck that the wild birds flew over the Lili­en­stein just at the right time and I could photo­graph them. 

When I saw it with my own eyes, I could hardly believe it. I saw this great light atmo­sphere in the middle of the Elbe Sand­stone Moun­tains, took my tele­photo lens and looked through the view­finder of my camera. In the end, this picture detail made me marvel. This is what it must have looked like millions of years ago in Pangaea, the primeval conti­nent. No trace of civi­li­sa­tion. Only nature, the low-hanging mist and the light of the rising sun. To this day, I wonder where this green-yellow glow came from that makes this photo­graph look so fascinating? 

The Elbe Sand­stone Moun­tains are among the most impres­sive natural monu­ments in Germany. Cleverly chosen perspec­tives and details give the impres­sion that these are photos of a totally remote and wild natural envi­ron­ment. But of course you can see in small places, such as the railing on the viewing rock, that man has already inter­vened in nature here too. Nevert­heless, the forests and rocks, espe­ci­ally when there is a bit of fog at sunrise, look like they come from a land before our time. 

The small pine that grows out of the steep rock faces of the Elbe Sand­stone Moun­tains was named after the famous nature photo­grapher Fritz Pölking. I took it in beau­tiful morning light in early autumn. 

Schon alleine ihre Größe und Form besitzen auf mich eine mysti­sche Anzie­hungs­kraft. Gepaart mit der tief­stehenden Sonne und einigen aufstei­genden Nebel­schwaden kann diese mysti­sche Stim­mung auch über die Foto­grafie über­tragen werden und es erge­ben­sich endlose Motive hier im Elbsand­stein­ge­birge. So wie diese aus dem Wald heraus­ra­gende Felsen. 

These rocks in the Elbe Sand­stone Moun­tains rise like the skeleton of a fossi­lized dino­saur. The veil of mist that covers the dense forest and around the rocks and moun­tains make this image seem as if it came from another time. 

A scenery that I instinc­tively reminded me of the primeval times of our earth. The huge rocks could also be a fossi­lized dino­saur. Untouched nature, a jungle to the horizon. No hint of civi­liza­tion as far as the eye can see and in the middle of Germany in the Elbe Sand­stone Mountains. 

A beau­tiful hiking route leads from Oberst­dorf past the Fide­re­pass­hütte, who stays over­night on it can watch great sunsets and sunrises. Here in the picture the setting sun behind the refuge. 

You can enjoy a truly maje­stic and impres­sive view from this loca­tion in the centre of the Pala­ti­nate Forest. From one of the highest castles in the Pala­ti­nate, you can enjoy a marvellous pano­r­amic view and a great view of the sunrise in the morning. It is precisely these things that make this place so well-known and popular with roman­tics, hikers and, of course, photographers. 

The sun has set, night is falling over the Alps, but it is still lively and sociable at the refuges. This is when this picture of the Mindel­heimer Hütte was taken. 

After the rain at the Rappensee. I myself could hardly believe it when I unpa­cked my camera in this great light mood at Rappensee in the Alps, and there was not a single other photo­grapher to be seen around me. What would they miss, I thought, when I took this shot after a few hours of rain. 

The place where Búða­kirkja stands, the small, wooden, black church on the Snæfellsnes penin­sula. In this fasci­na­ting place, the Atlantic Ocean, snow-capped moun­tains and glaciers of Iceland are only a stone’s throw away from each other, and in the midst of the rugged land­scape stands this small church, defying the adverse conditions. 

Many photo­graphers have been attracted to this church. Lonely and alone in the middle of the coastal land­scape of the Snæfellsnes penin­sula, with the snow-capped moun­tains not far away. In this place you are never alone for a long time, because visi­tors constantly come by, who are also thrilled by this sight. 

The road number 1 led once around the whole country, past many sights Iceland and is ther­e­fore ideal for a road trip. Past the Golden Circle, many water­falls, to the remote East Fjords. In the back­ground on this picture you can see the edge of the large glacier Vatnajökull. 

As we drove west, towards Snae­fels­ness, we spotted this Icelandic pony a little ways off the road. Of course we stopped and I got my camera out. I had to wait only a few minutes for the right moment and pull the trigger. 

It is one of the many impres­sive water­falls in Iceland, which is parti­cu­larly impres­sive because of its height and the enormous amount of water. In this picture, with the model directly in front of the water masses, you can lite­rally hear the roar and roar of the water in your inner ear. 

One of the most iconic moun­tains in Iceland: Kirk­ju­fell. The special thing about it is that photo­gra­phed from this view, it looks like a perfect pyramid. We reached Kirk­ju­fell just in time to take this shot before sunset and a bliz­zard rolling in. As we did so, the sky turned shades of pink to purple. The next day it was comple­tely covered with fog and no longer visible. 

Auf diesem Bild schlum­mert einer der drei aktivsten Vulkane Islands fried­lich, unter einer Schnee­decke, im gefärbten Abend­himmel der Blauen Stunde: der Hekla. Zu Deutsch steht sein Name für Haube, was vermut­lich an seinem schnee­be­deckten Gipfel liegt. 

To photo­graph the Nort­hern Lights in Iceland, you need a starry night and suffi­cient solar acti­vity. We were able to spend a whole night taking pictures of the Nort­hern Lights and enjoying the sight.