This is the story of an impossible photograph—an image that demanded an absurd amount of luck, unwavering perseverance, and a few very specific pieces of gear to pull off.
To kick things off, it’s important to note that this was a real wedding with real people, not an elaborate styled session. The bride is an incredibly talented wedding photographer herself (@sarafrance), and because of that, she made the unique decision to hire two primary wedding photographers for her big day: myself and the one and only Benj Haisch. This meant that neither of us had a second photographer, and instead, we each tackled the day as if the other wasn't there.
The day started off beautifully. There was the usual bride and groom prep, a couple of emotional first looks, and an air of excitement.
This is where the wedding takes a turn for the extraordinary. The event was set in the stunning landscape of New Zealand, with the ceremony taking place on the peak of an epic mountain overlooking the breathtaking Lake Wānaka. The only way to get there? By helicopter.
After all the guests had been flown to the summit, the ceremony began. It was performed beautifully by David Manning, who happens to be an amazing human as well as a YouTuber (so definitely check him out). Once the vows were exchanged and the couple was officially married, it was time for portraits.
If you know my work, you know I love creating dramatic portraits. With a helicopter at our disposal, essentially hired to be a prop, my mind immediately began racing. I instantly knew the photograph I wanted to take. The problem was, my idea required the couple to be posed in an area away from the mountain’s iconic viewpoint, facing a different direction entirely. Complicating matters further, we only had the helicopter to use as a prop for a total of 15 minutes.
I ran my idea past Benj and the videographer, Emily from Woven Images, and we all agreed that there probably wasn't enough time. It didn’t make sense to sacrifice the guaranteed iconic shots that everyone was there to capture for one experimental photo that might not even work. So the idea was pushed to the back of my mind, and we began taking images as the helicopter started flying guests down the mountain back to the airport.
Every time, the helicopter took off and landed from the same direction. Except for the very last pickup. On its final approach, the helicopter swooped in past the exact area I needed for my idea to work. This was my chance. I sprinted to one of the people about to board and asked them to try to get the pilot to fly through the area they had just arrived from. Then, I sprinted back to the couple, who were thankfully nearby, and told them to get into position. As they moved, I was simultaneously running to set up my off-camera flash, all while trying to keep an eye on the helicopter to see if the pilot would actually grant my last-minute request. The entire time, the couple, Benj, and Emily were watching this chaotic scene unfold as I desperately tried not to slip down the side of a mountain—a very real possibility given I had worn the worst possible shoes for playing mountain goat.
As I was getting everything set, I saw the helicopter begin to lift off—in the same direction it had every other time before. My head slumped in defeat as I watched my dream portrait fly off in the wrong direction.
But then, a miracle. The helicopter started to turn, banking away from its regular flight path and heading directly to the area I needed it to be. It was time. I still had to sprint down a hill, across a small ravine, and up to another ridge where I needed the camera to be. As I ran, I was also dialing in my camera and flash settings, hoping to be ready just as the helicopter flew past.
This is the point in the story where I feel I should explain why my camera gear played such a pivotal role in making this photo. Because as I was running, I was setting my ambient exposure to be dark and dramatic—a difficult task under the harsh early-afternoon New Zealand sun. The final settings for the image were ISO 250, f/2.8, and a shutter speed of 1/80,000th of a second. And there is only one camera on the planet that can achieve those settings while syncing with a flash: the Sony a9 III, thanks to its revolutionary global shutter.
The flash setup was just as critical. The way a global shutter interacts with flash is complex; the amount of light the sensor “sees” changes based on the various combinations of camera settings paired with flash power. Through experimentation, I’ve developed a sort of “Frankenstein” setup to maximize my potential when using off-camera flash (video walkthrough of this below). For this image, I positioned the light behind the couple, pointed back toward me and the camera. This created a stunning backlight, but it also meant I needed a lot of power, as I was only capturing the light that wrapped and bounced around the couple.
My two flashes were set to 1/4 power and fitted with full CTO (Color Temperature Orange) gels to give the light a beautiful warmth. I know it may seem counterintuitive for me to say I need a ton of power while also having my lights each set to 1/4 power, but because of the way the camera and flash work together when using a global shutter, 1/4 power is actually giving me the exact same amount of light as half or even full power (video explanation below).
https://youtu.be/Clh67kD87Q0?si=hqvSoc4_Y7hyVaXs
So, why go through all this trouble? Why not just shoot at the iconic spot with the iconic view while we also have access to a prop helicopter? The answer lies in the direction of the ambient light. At the main viewpoint, the sun was in front of the couple and camera left, which would have prevented me from creating the backlit look I wanted. By moving them, I placed the sun at their backs. Even though the sun itself wasn’t creating the warm wrapping light, it meant my off-camera flash was now a motivated light source coming from the same general direction as the sun, and I no longer had to fight harsh specular highlights on their skin.
You might also ask, “Why not use a regular camera with a regular sync speed paired with a high aperture or an ND filter?” The problem here is that to do this, I’d need a much bigger and more powerful light in order to make up the difference in what’s possible with the global shutter. Add to this that at a traditional sync speed (1/250th of a second), the speeding helicopter would have been a blurry—and probably unrecognizable—mess.
What about high-speed sync (HSS), you ask? While HSS could work in theory, you would again need a much larger, heavier, and more powerful light to achieve a similar exposure. Given the weight restrictions on helicopters, bringing something like my Godox AD1200 Pro—which is like carrying a car battery—likely wouldn’t have been an option. Even if it were, running around a mountaintop with that beast would have been a nightmare, especially in those terrible shoes I mentioned. Even then, I still don’t think that would have been enough power for what I needed.
So there I was. One chance. No redos. The helicopter turned, I raised my camera—and I got it. The Impossible Photograph.
After that moment of victory, we took a few more photos on the mountaintop before flying to another spot in the range for a change of scenery among glacier-fed lakes.
Then, it was time to party. The helicopter flew us straight to the reception for first dances, heartfelt speeches, and some nighttime portraits.
Things got a little wild on the dance floor.
And the day didn't feel complete until everyone jumped off a dark bridge into a freezing river below.
With that, the perfect day was done—a day capped by a single photograph I thought wasn’t going to be possible but then became possible. A testament to the power of a wild idea, a bit of luck, and having the right tools for a seemingly impossible job.
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