The Weight of the Cold
The journey began on a ferry from New Jersey to New York, a peaceful yet cold morning crossing the Hudson River. The water shimmered under the rare winter sun, reflecting a light that felt almost surreal against the gray urban backdrop. I didn’t have the SantaColor loaded yet, so, with my Voigtländer camera loaded with Kodak Ektar 100, and a Leica 50mm Summicron in hand, I started capturing the crisp blues and deep contrasts of the NY Cityscape.
The Kodak Ektar 100 is known for its rich color rendition, particularly in bright daylight, making it the perfect film to highlight the stunning hues of the sky and water. The ferry’s slow movement allowed me to frame shots carefully, capturing the mix of industrial structures, distant skyline, and the usual NYPD (or New York Police Department) vigilance over land, sea, and air.
Disembarking, the chill became more apparent. The wind cut through my mittens as I mounted my bike, but the excitement of finally embarking on this long-anticipated ride kept me moving forward. I had no way of knowing at the time, but the very elements that made this day so beautiful would soon test my patience in ways I hadn’t expected...
The Allure of Ektar 100 and SantaColor, two ISO- 100 films with different purposes
The city was alive, yet winter dulled its usual chaos, quieting the streets and sharpening the contrast between steel and snow. With my camera still loaded with Ektar 100, I took my time capturing the hue of sunlight bouncing off icy streets. Ektar’s deep saturation transformed the mundane into something warm, almost nostalgic. The way it made the snow appear tinged with light rather than cold and indifferent was something I had always appreciated.
Halfway through the ride, I got the 39 exposures from the Ektar, so it was time to load the SantaColor 100, eager to see how this film would handle the same environment. Unlike Ektar, which romanticized the world, SantaColor was engineered for function.
This film is originally a respool of Kodak AeroColor made by a Finnish company called KameraStore. Being designed for aerial reconnaissance, the AeroColor is made to cut through atmospheric haze and capture hyper-detailed images from high altitudes. Its purpose was functional rather than artistic, used to provide critical clarity from above rather than evoke emotion.
This is ideal for capturing photos of a beautiful bridge over a sunny day, I thought, and wondered: how would it interpret this winter ride? Would it strip away the warmth and leave behind a stark, unforgiving reality? Would it reveal something unseen in the same scenes I had just captured?
The Journey
Pedaling through the snow-covered paths, I felt the weight of winter not just in the air but in my hands and feet. Every stop for a photo was a negotiation between creative impulse and the bitter cold.
The city was mesmerizing under the glow of the low winter sun. The contrast between the bright sky and the icy ground created a scene of sharpness, something that I knew SantaColor 100 would handle differently than Ektar. Ektar romanticized the world, turning the snow into something warm and inviting, while I had a feeling the SantaColor would reveal it for what it was. Cold, crisp, and unyielding.
Yet, the cold was creeping into everything. I flexed my fingers in my mittens, trying to keep them responsive. Little did I know, the very thing that made today’s journey visually striking, the biting chill, the crisp air, the stillness, was setting the stage for a moment of frustration that would test my patience with both the weather and my gear.
The George Washington Bridge
When I finally reached the George Washington Bridge, it felt more significant than before. This wasn’t just a landmark at the end of my journey, it was a testament to endurance, to pushing through despite setbacks. The bridge itself, designed for utility, stands as something visually breathtaking, much like SantaColor 100, a film engineered for function yet capable of unexpected beauty.
The experience of riding, shooting, adapting, and even failing had become part of the creative process. My images will eventually show a contrast—Ektar 100’s warm and painterly tones, and the SantaColor's clinical precision. Two films, two perspectives, captured on a day when winter both gave and took away.
It was time for a lunch stop, I diverted route to the Bronx, a te at a fantastic Ethiopian restaurant, and took some cool pictures.
Midway through my journey, I needed to warm up, my fingers were barely able to function after braving through freezing air. I stopped at a Starbucks cafe and built a little compact writing office, where I took a moment to jot down notes about the experience so far. I had to change lenses for this, and here’s where bad things start (well, it could be worse).
Love is in the air, well, not for my fancy Leica lens.
The Fancy Leica Feels The Concrete's Bad Breath On A Valentine's Kiss
It was here that disaster struck. When switching lenses, I failed to properly secure the Summicron 50mm f/2 back onto the camera. My hands, still numb from the cold, couldn’t feel the satisfying click of the bayonet lock.
As I lifted the camera, the lens slipped off, hitting the asphalt with a terrible, unforgiving sound. That split second of confusion, where I thought it might have been just the strap falling instead, was quickly replaced by the gut-wrenching realization that my lens lay on the ground. The red alignment dot was damaged and the UV filter saved the day, but worst of all, the focus ring was frozen in place.
By the picture, you can tell that if it wasn’t for the filter, I would also damage the front element of the lens.
A deep frustration set in. I had set out to embrace winter, to push myself to capture something beautiful despite the challenges. But the cold had a way of reminding me who was in control. Photography in extreme weather isn’t just about braving the elements, it’s about respecting them.
Lessons in Adaptation
I continued for a little longer, but my frustration took hold. I took a single shot with the Voigtlander Nokton 35mm lens, packed my gear away, and rode home, now focused on how to repair the Summicron. The experience left me with a new perspective, sometimes, the right tool is just as important as the right mindset. Inspired by my friend Razlyn, who often writes about weather-resistant cameras on Substack, I decided to invest in a Canon Sure Shot WP-1.
Thank you
for allowing me to use your photo. Guys, take the chance to subscribe to , also here on Substack!It looks like a toy camera, but it’s built to endure. Unlike my delicate Voigtländer and Leica setup, the WP-1 thrives in extreme conditions. It’s waterproof, rugged, and perhaps most importantly, unassuming. Riding through New York in the winter, carrying expensive gear isn’t just risky due to weather, it’s also a safety concern. With the WP-1, I now have a camera I can take on bike rides, into the rain, onto rough terrain, without fear.
Reflecting on the Experience
Photography isn’t just about the moments we capture; it’s about how those moments shape us. This ride was a reminder that creativity is about resilience, about making the most of what’s in front of us even when things don’t go as planned.
When I got home, I posted my frustration on Substack, and I got some very nice messages from friends like
, , , , , , and many other fellow photographers and Substack friends who made me feel better <3How about you? Have you ever had an experience where the elements changed and challenged your photography? Share your thoughts in the comments below. I’d love to hear how you adapted and what you learned.
Do I recommend SantaColor 100? Check out the comments section!
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