When you think of panoramic landscape photography, what comes to mind?

A heavy tripod, a specialist panoramic head, meticulous settings and perfect alignment? That’s certainly the way I was taught and for a long time thought. It’s also the way many renowned landscape photographers continue to teach. Yet, in this story, I want to share something different: how a handful of handheld snapshots at sunrise in Tasmania’s Hartz Mountains became a panorama I never expected to enter in a photography award.

It all began with a pre-dawn walk by torchlight

It was a summer morning in the southwest forests of Tasmania. I was guiding a photography tour in the Hartz Mountains and had woken my guests super early, dragging them from their warm cosy beds into the wilderness with the hope that it would all be worth it.

Walking into the location in the pre-dawn darkness, I wasn’t entirely sure what the morning would deliver – making for a slightly nervous photography guide. I know this area of the Hartz Mountains well, but nature always holds an element of surprise. At first, the sky was overcast – a little bit meh. Then, as the sun broke through, the light swept across the mountain range, illuminating the landscape, with complementing hues in the clouds above. Any nervousness I once felt completely vanished in this moment, replaced by awe and wonder for us all – the perfect reward for an early start and pre-dawn walk under torchlight.

In a moment when my guests were immersed in photographing as the light shifted across the landscape, I took a brief pause to capture the scene for myself.

When guiding I only take minimal gear – my camera mounted with an everyday lens (in this case 24–70mm) and essential guiding equipment for safety and comfort, not just for me but for my guests too. Items like drinking water, extra snacks, clothing layers, a first aid kit and a satellite comms device always come with me. I leave all other accessories and gear behind – like my tripod, monopod, filters and so on.

If I do photograph it’s usually quick handheld snapshots during pauses of guidance to help me remember the scene, once I’ve checked my guests are settled with what they’re doing. This was one of those times.

Building the panorama

In less than 60 seconds I raised my camera to my eye and captured a series of overlapping frames with an impromptu panorama in mind.

The series consists of fourteen frames in total – two rows (top and bottom), seven across, each frame was shot handheld at ISO 1250, f/11, 1/30 sec and exposed consistently with enough overlap for Lightroom to work its magic.

What I love about this image

It’s not just the scale that draws me to it. I love the colours, the tones and the way subtle hints of pink in the clouds echo the warmth of sunlight throughout the scene. To me, it feels like being there again: cool mountain air, morning stillness, the fleeting brilliance of light.

And more than that – it represents something important to me in my approach as a nature photographer.

Busting the musts

As I’m mostly self-taught with my photography, I’ve pieced together my practice over the years. While always encouraged and supported by Roy’s expertise, I’ve read books and magazines, taken short courses, listened to judges critiquing award entries (not only my own but others too), attended seminars and workshops and above all, experimented – both in the field when taking the image and later in processing and editing. Trial and error has always a constant teacher.

Along the way, I’ve heard plenty of advice about panoramic landscapes: the musts of gear, technique and precision. But for me, it’s been less about strict rules and more about interpreting suggestions in a way that works with my approach and the equipment I have.

Creating this image was my way of ‘busting the musts’.

I wanted to see whether a stitched panorama made from handheld snapshots – not captured with the perfect technique or gear – could still hold its own. Could it be seen as a quality image? Not only by me, but by others too?

Entering the Australian Photography Prize

With that question in mind, I decided to enter the image in the Australian Photography Prize – specifically because the program provides feedback from the judges. For me, the feedback is more important than the score. The score gave me a Highly Commended badge with a mark of 76 which was encouraging. But it was the feedback that offered the real value: insights I could use to refine my image and integrate into my ongoing photography practice.

Judge feedback

The judges praised the light and the atmosphere of the scene, noting how the sunrise brought life to the image. They also observed that the panorama felt slightly unbalanced – with the scrub drawing attention to one side and the lake pulling the eye to the other.

Their suggestion? Consider alternate cropping or composition that brings the lake into a more central role, so the viewer’s eye flows more comfortably through the frame.

This was practical feedback that I could act on – not just in re-processing this image but in how I approach photographing wide vistas in future.

Feedback in focus

By entering this image, I reminded myself that doing so isn’t only about winning or collecting badges. It’s also about growth. By submitting an image that tested the limits of my own approach I gave myself the chance to learn.

And the outcome affirmed something I share often with my guests: photography doesn’t always depend on having all the right gear. With curiosity, experimentation and a willingness to play, you can create images that surprise you – and perhaps others too.

A takeaway tip for you

Next time you’re out photographing a wide scene, maybe you’ll consider a series of handheld frames with a stitched panorama in mind. If you do, pay attention, consistent exposure and steady framing. You might surprise yourself with what’s possible – even without all the ‘musts’.