The traditional calendar mark indicating Summer’s watch over the planet is coming to an end is just around the corner. Some cities will experience high temperatures for a few more months while others will start donning light jackets and anticipate the changing of arboreal colors.

The age group that experiences the most drastic change during this time of year are the high school graduates. Some will start a job or an apprenticeship, others will be off to college. All will be part of a right of passage that will see bittersweet tears at the end of August as most friends scatter in different directions. Everything that was known up until this point is about to change.

The summer after high school graduation is a magic time. Teenagers have the freedom that comes from a loosening parental grip as they are ushered closer toward the border of adulthood. But, below them, the safety net that caught their falls during high school will inevitably be put to the test one more time during the last summer of their youth. It’s a good thing. The kids need to make sure the net still works, even though they’ll deny that they do, and parents will want to carry the weight of the drama one more time before it relocates to become a visitor instead of a tenant of the family home.

It’s been a great summer. And for those who graduated high school last spring, it has been the only summer of its kind.

National Geographic photographers have a reputation for authentic images. But in the digital age what you see through the viewfinder is not always what you get in the edit. It is one of the challenges of contemporary nature photography. There is a fine balance between vision, reality and good visual storytelling. In Josh Anon’s new book he presents the tools to enhance your images and leaves it to the reader to make their own determination how to use them. The book reads like you’re having a coffee with a patient Photoshop expert who truly cares that you learn the craft.

Josh Anon works on the creative side at Pixar in Northern California. The work ethic that goes into Pixar’s Oscar winning movies is reflected in his book. His attention to subtle details will motivate you to run out and capture new images and then try your hand at some of Mr. Anon’s techniques.

National Geographic Blog recently got a chance to talk with Josh Anon about his new book, Photoshop CS5 for Nature Photographers, which explores the different techniques that allow digital technology and nature photography to co-exist in a non-compromising way.

NGA Blog:
In your book there is an undertone of remaining true to the image as it was shot.  Yet, you’re telling people how to use photo manipulation software.  How do you keep the balance in your minds eye?

Josh Anon:
What you see when you take the shot isn’t always what your camera captures, even if what you see is the potential that a shot has.  We’re not talking putting polar bears and penguins together but rather things like, “gee, this would be better if that branch wasn’t there, but I don’t/can’t disturb the scene” and “man, I wish I had time to wait around to get a better sky here.”  While you could use these techniques to put polar bears and penguins together, we leave it up to the reader to determine how much manipulation they want to tolerate and simply teach a range of techniques to improve their images.

NGA Blog:
When you’re shooting on location do you ever consider the post production power you have available back at home when you’re looking through the lens?  That is to say, do you ever shoot with the intent of working the image in photoshop?

Josh Anon:
Somewhat, and it’s a new tool that digital photographers have.  HDR, panoramas, and other techniques that involve multiple images are mainly where I think about post-production, allowing me to capture shots you couldn’t do on film.  However, I aim to get the shot as perfect as possible and find it much easier to walk to get the composition I want rather than planning on relying on Photoshop.

I bellied up to the little downtown bar intent on proving the hard drinking journalist cliché true. My peripheral vision spied out my territory, two big haired brunettes straight out of a The Real Housewives of New Jersey episode to one side, and two checkered dress shirted financial types to the other. The proverbial rock and hard place. Soon it further dawned on me that I had happened to sit between an ongoing discussion between the two different groups of people. The kind of argument not held directly, but manifested in loud conversation seemingly directed at no one in particular.

“No one with any class drinks blended Scotch,” said one banker type to the surrounding air.

“Blended Scotch is so smooth,” said one of the housewives loud enough for all to hear while stirring the ice in her highball with a manicured forefinger.

I recognized the nature of the discussion. It was the great Scotch debate: single malt whisky versus blended whisky.

One of the men took a long slow sip of his whisky, adorned by a single ice cube, before sharply inhaling and then exhaling with an audible “ahhh”.

“Single malt is an acquired taste,” he said.

Scotch is a lot like the land it comes from. Harshly beautiful, politically complicated, and loved by its people, Scotland itself might be considered an acquired taste. According to Scottish law, only Scotch whisky (notice the lack of an “e”) can be produced, bottled or even aged in Scotland. There are actually three types of Scotch (in Scotland it is simply called “whisky”). 1) Single malt whisky made from malted barley produced at one single distillery. 2) Single grain whisky produced from other cereal grains such as corn and wheat, also produced at a single distillery and 3) Blended whisky which is a combination of the two.

The term single malt is not limited to Scotland. Single malt rye whiskey (notice the “e”) is made in California by the Anchor Distillery and single malt whiskey is made by both St. George Spirits and Charbay Winery and Distillery (both also in California). Single malts are also produced in many lands associated with the British realm, including: Ireland, Canada, South Africa, New Zealand, Australia and Wales. Oddly there is no whisky tradition in England itself, the titular seat of the British Empire. Additionally Japan produces many malt whiskies similar in style to single malt Scotch (going so far as to import Scottish peat for the process), a fact immortalized in the 2003 Sofia Coppola film Lost in Translation.

When it comes to taste, whisky gets much of its smoothness by virtue of age. The longer it matures in the barrel the smoother tasting it will be, much like fine wine. Single malt Scotch is certainly distinctive; its flavor profile is stronger and more discernable than its blended cousin. Typically, single malt scotch is also aged longer which helps to mellow some of its harshness. But, find an older blended whisky (like an 18-year-old Johnnie Walker Gold) and you will find it is decidedly smoother than most single malts of the same age.

All of this occurred to me as I listened to the two groups of Scotch drinkers bicker, which then led me to several thoughts on the matter.

1) Personal taste is subjective and as such is unassailable through argument. You like what you like, no matter what anyone else says.

2) Acquiring a taste for something might indeed be a noble goal. Acquiring “taste”, in general, however, might prove far more elusive.

3) When you start talking about how little class (or taste) someone else has, you have just removed what little you might have started with.

4) When selecting a Scotch, if smoothness is your goal, go blended or old or both. However if bold distinctive flavor is your desire select a younger single malt. Either way you are in for a treat.

5) Sometimes barstools are empty for a reason.

Read more of Jeff’s work here.

While thumbing through the Port Moresby Post-Courier newspaper on my flight down to the Sepik River, my eyes fell to the headline under Positions Vacant on the Careers page: “Head Hunters.”

Noting the headhunters@global email, I was relieved to see it followed by an ANZ bank symbol, and not an actual ad for those degreed in cannibalism.

During our cruise down the Sepik River on the MV Sepik Spirit, even though–thanks to missionary influence–I caught the occasional glance of Calvin Klein underwear bands rather than penis sheaths on the men, I discovered that life on the river still pretty much exists as it has for the last few generations. Life evolves around the daily hunting, gathering and foraging for food. The men still fish from dug out canoes and the women, with an inevitable child tugging at their breast, process and cook the sago plant. And make no doubt, the territorial clans still exist, as I discovered when mistakenly overstepping my boundary into one. Luckily, I got away with a small fine rather than an arrow through my forehead.

The respect for the river is immense, which is most apparent through the tribe’s reverence of the exquisitely crafted, yet ominously daunting, Sepik spirit houses. Men, especially of the Blackwater region, are isolated for over a month of initiation practices while receiving the crocodile tattooing. Succumbing to sleep deprivation, they enter an other-worldly mental state as they partake in rituals, feasts and are coached in the secrets of their elders. During this time, sex is discouraged, as spilling a man’s seed is considered to spiritually weaken them. I was surprised to find that our boat captain, John, had gone through this sacred scarring ritual himself, quite possibly the first white man having done so.

After two weeks, deep painful gashes with razor blades are made in the chests and backs of men, as the bleeding symbolizes the draining of their mother’s blood, making them stronger. The open wounds are packed in mud, silt and exposed to smoke, so they will keloid, giving the scars a raised emulation of the crocodile skin. The men’s ages can range from adolescent to adults, but their scars are a badge of honor, and a proud symbol of their finality into manhood. Never have I encountered a culture of men so willing to take their shirts off for me, which I have to admit I found quite pleasant.

photo by Alison Wright

What surprised me was the discovery of women with significant scarring as well; often the symbol of the sun and moon on their arms. It’s a different story for the young girls than the young men. At their first menstruation the girls are fenced in alone in their home and then without much preparation forced into the inevitable scarring ritual. As the girls are often much younger and more fearful than the boys they sometimes run away. I was told that even if the scarring proves to be too much for the girls, their grandmothers are still willing to pass down their secrets of womanhood. From what I saw of the fabulous face paint, masks, adornment of shells, and ritualistic scarring this seemed to make the obvious not so secret: no matter what culture you’re raised in, men and women the world over certainly pay a high price for beauty.