The Subtleties of Fairness After 50

Image courtesy of Adobe Stock.

The Day I Realized I’d Been Unfair

I don’t remember the exact day it happened, which somehow feels fitting.

There was no argument. No breaking point. No dramatic moment where everything finally made sense. Just an ordinary afternoon that should have felt peaceful and didn’t.

I was sitting at the table with a warm mug cradled between my hands — a soothing cup of spicy chai, the kind that carries hints of cinnamon and cardamom and asks you to slow down. Outside, the trees moved gently in a breeze that didn’t demand attention. Everything out there seemed settled, unhurried.

Inside, I wasn’t.

At first, I told myself I was simply tired. That this was what life felt like after 50, or close to it. You live alone. You take responsibility for yourself. You grow used to the quiet. You stop expecting life to surprise you.

But the tiredness felt different. It wasn’t the kind that comes from a long day or a poor night’s sleep. It felt deeper — like something had been thinning out over time.

And then, in that quiet, a thought surfaced that caught me off guard:

I hadn’t been unfair to anyone else.
I had been unfair to myself.

That idea stayed with me longer than I expected.

I’d always thought of myself as reasonable. Fair. The kind of person who tried not to take up too much space. I listened. I adjusted. I made room. I believed that was maturity — especially as you get older and learn that not everything needs to be said.

For a long time, I wore that as a quiet point of pride.

But looking back now, I can see how often fairness quietly became endurance.

I said yes when a pause might have served me better.
I stayed silent when something didn’t feel quite right.
I absorbed inconvenience because it felt easier than explaining myself.

None of it felt dramatic in the moment. That’s what makes it hard to see while you’re in it. These aren’t decisions you make once — they’re habits you slip into.

I remember one evening in particular, years ago now. The day had been long in that familiar way — nothing terrible, nothing inspiring. Someone asked for just one more thing. Nothing unreasonable. Nothing I couldn’t do.

I agreed, automatically.

But as I did, I felt a quiet tightening inside me. Not anger. Not resentment. Just a small sense that I’d stepped a little further away from myself without meaning to.

That feeling followed me home.

What stayed with me wasn’t the request. It was how little space I’d given myself to consider whether it was fair — not in theory, but in practice. Fair to my energy. Fair to where I was in my life at that moment.

I began to notice how often I defaulted to being “the reasonable one.” How easily I carried weight that no one had explicitly handed me. How often I told myself that my needs could wait — again.

And slowly, I started to notice the cost.

Energy didn’t return the way it used to.
Evenings felt flatter.
Decisions carried more weight than they should have.

Nothing was falling apart. But nothing felt fully alive either.

It took me time to understand that fairness, as I’d been practicing it, wasn’t balanced. It leaned heavily toward keeping things smooth in the moment, even if that meant quietly setting myself aside.

The shift didn’t come from a bold decision. It came from gentler questions.

What would be fair here — not just for them, but for me?
If I keep responding this way, where does it lead?
How long am I willing to live with this version of “reasonable”?

Those questions didn’t demand immediate answers. They simply asked me to pay attention.

And in paying attention, something softened.

Not because I started saying no to everything.
Not because I stopped caring.

But because I began to care about balance.

Living alone — or on the brink of that reality — has a way of making imbalance more obvious. There’s no one else to absorb the overflow. No distraction from what doesn’t sit right. Quiet has a way of amplifying truth.

Out here, close to nature, that truth feels simpler. The lake doesn’t overextend itself. The seasons don’t apologize for changing. Nothing explains itself or asks permission.

Fairness in nature isn’t sentimental. It’s honest.

If I could speak to my younger self now — or to someone standing on the edge of this stage of life — I wouldn’t tell them to be tougher or more self-protective.

I’d tell them this:

Being fair doesn’t mean carrying everything.
And it doesn’t mean carrying it alone.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that fairness, practiced gently and honestly, creates a quieter kind of freedom. The kind that lets you exhale. The kind that makes solitude feel spacious rather than heavy.

And maybe that’s what freedom after 50 really is.

Not escape.

But coming back into balance with yourself.

The Man in the Cabin: A Parable About Subtle Manipulation and Finding Your Voice Again

Image courtesy of Adobe Stock.

by Thomas Detert

There was once a man named Eli, who lived in a small cabin deep in the northern woods—simple, quiet, and steady. After years of storms, heartbreak, and rebuilding, he had finally found a life that fit him like a well-worn flannel shirt.

One winter, Eli agreed to help out a neighbour named Grant, who owned a lodge in the next town over. Grant needed “just a hand for a few days.” Eli, being dependable and kind, said yes.

And that’s where the trouble began.

1. The First Shift: When “Requests” Aren’t Really Requests

Eli had barely arrived at the lodge when Grant said:

“Good—you’ll be here for the next two weeks.”

Not could you, not would you, not does this work for you.

Just a declaration.

Eli felt something tighten in his chest, but he brushed it off.
Grant had a way of making everything sound final.

2. The Manufactured Crisis

The next morning, Grant burst into the kitchen pulling on his jacket.

“There’s a group arriving tonight. I need you to stay late. No one else can handle this.”

Eli knew that wasn’t true—Grant had three other staff members on payroll.
But Grant said it with such urgency, such insistence, that Eli simply nodded.

He worked well into the night.

3. Warm Sun, Sudden Storm

The following day, Grant was smiling, slapping Eli on the back, offering him fresh coffee, talking like they were old friends.

But that afternoon, when Eli asked about taking his promised day off, Grant’s face hardened instantly.

“We’ll talk about that later,” he said sharply.

Eli felt as if the conversation had slipped through his hands like cold water.

4. Weaponized Guilt

By the end of the week, Eli finally said:

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

Grant sighed dramatically.

“I thought you were dedicated. Everyone else pushes through. Maybe I misjudged your work ethic.”

Eli felt the weight of those words all night.
Not because they were true—
but because they were crafted to sting.

5. The Rewritten Story

When the two weeks were up, Eli approached Grant about leaving.

“You agreed to stay a month,” Grant said flatly.

“That’s not what I said,” Eli replied.

Grant smiled, as if amused.

“You must be remembering wrong, Eli. You’ve been tired.”

The doubt crept in.
Was he misremembering?
Had the conversation gone differently?

His instincts said no.
His mind was starting to wonder.

6. The “Teamwork” Trap

When Eli finally tried to step back, Grant said:

“We all make sacrifices here. You leaving now puts everyone in a bind.”

But Eli had noticed something:
Grant never sacrificed anything.
Everyone else did.

7. The Body Never Lies

One morning, Eli woke with a deep sense of dread—something he hadn’t felt since the hardest years of his life.

His stomach twisted.
His chest felt heavy.
He struggled to breathe.

He looked at his truck parked outside the cabin window.
The snow on the windshield glowed blue under the early light.

He knew what the feeling meant.
His body was telling him:

“This situation is not good for you.”

The Moment of Clarity

Eli packed his things quietly and walked out before Grant even arrived.

When Grant called later, leaving angry messages, Eli let the phone ring.

He stood by the frozen shoreline outside his cabin, the cold biting the air, the silence steady and honest.

He finally understood:

Manipulation doesn't always show up like a monster.
Sometimes it shows up like a neighbour who wants a ‘simple favour.’

The danger lies in its subtlety.
And freedom begins the moment you recognize the pattern and walk away.

The Real Lesson

This wasn’t just about Grant.
It was about every season of Eli’s life where he’d ignored his intuition, doubted his instincts, or stayed too long in places where he was slowly disappearing.

Standing there by the lake, he made himself a quiet promise:

“I won’t abandon myself again.”

If You Saw Yourself in Eli…

Manipulation doesn’t just drain your energy.
It erodes your confidence, your clarity, and sometimes even your sense of who you are.

If Eli’s story felt familiar…
if you’ve ever ignored your instincts, stayed too long, or felt the slow tightening in your chest when someone crossed a line…

Please know this:

You’re not alone.
And you don’t have to navigate this season by yourself.

If you’d like support, a listening ear, or guidance through your own chapter of change, I’m here.

Reach out anytime for a private, judgment-free coaching conversation.
Sometimes one good conversation is all it takes to start finding your way back home.

The Peace That Comes When You Stop Pretending

Image courtesy of Adobe Stock.

by Thomas Detert — Certified High Performance Coach

A Moment of Perspective

I was standing in the coatroom of a downtown hotel in Toronto, attending a continuing education course for dentists.

Nothing unusual about that — a bunch of professionals gathered to learn, trade stories, sip coffee. But something caught my eye: my well-worn Walmart parka hanging beside a row of $1,000 Canada Goose coats.

It made me smile. Not because I judged anyone, but because ten or twenty years ago, I probably would’ve been the guy wondering if I should own one too.

I walked through the lobby, watching luxury cars pull into the underground garage — the quiet ballet of people showing the world how well they’re doing. And I thought:

Are they any happier?
Any more at peace?
Do they feel at home in their own skin?

Because I’ve learned something over time — there’s a difference between living well and looking like you are.

The Illusion of “Having It All Together”

When we’re young, we chase the idea of what success is supposed to look like.
We think it’s measured by the house, the car, the vacations, the brand names.

But life has a way of teaching you otherwise.
You hit a few walls. You lose people you love. You burn out trying to please everyone. And somewhere along the line, you realize that peace doesn’t come from polish.

It comes from presence.

It’s not about how sharp your clothes are — it’s about how still your soul is.

The Weight of Pretending

There’s a quiet exhaustion that comes from pretending.

Pretending you’re okay when you’re not.
Pretending you’re further ahead than you feel.
Pretending you don’t care what anyone thinks — when deep down, you do.

The trouble is, the more you perform, the less you know who you really are. You lose the sound of your own voice under all the noise of trying to keep up.

I know, because I’ve been there — smiling through burnout, holding it all together for the sake of appearances, even when I was running on fumes inside.

It took years — and some hard truth — to realize that the image of success can become a prison if you never stop to ask who you’re doing it for.

The Freedom of Authenticity

These days, I care less about impressing people and more about expressing what’s real.

Real is showing up as yourself, without apology.
Real is saying, “I don’t need to prove anything today.”
Real is buying the coat that keeps you warm — not the one that keeps up appearances.

There’s peace in that. A deep, quiet kind of peace that money can’t buy.

You stop competing and start connecting. You stop worrying about being liked and start focusing on being whole.

And that shift — that movement from performance to presence — changes everything.

The Wisdom of Midlife

Something happens as you pass fifty. You start shedding skins that never fit you right anyway.

The need to impress fades. The opinions of others matter less. You begin to trust your own compass more.

You stop chasing the next big thing and start savoring the small things: your morning coffee, a walk in the woods, the warmth of a wood stove on a cold night.

You start realizing that the best things in life don’t shout — they whisper.

And in that stillness, you begin to hear your authentic self again — the one who was there all along, waiting for you to stop pretending.

A Reflection for You

Ask yourself:

• Where in my life am I performing instead of being?

• What could I let go of if I stopped caring how it looks to others?

• What would feel like peace right now?

If you can answer those questions honestly, you’re already halfway home.

Final Thoughts

We spend so much of our early lives chasing identity — trying to be “someone.”
But the real journey, the one worth taking, is about peeling all that back until you finally return to yourself.

The truth is simple: authenticity doesn’t need an audience.

The peace that comes when you stop pretending — that’s the quiet victory of growing older, wiser, and freer.

Tom’s Life After 50 is about exactly that: learning to live on your own terms.
Not to prove anything.
Not to impress anyone.
But to wake up each day feeling comfortable in your own skin, content with who you’ve become, and grateful for the simple, honest life you’ve built.

Becoming the Man You Choose to Be: Why a “To-Be List” Matters More After 50 Than It Ever Did Before

Image courtesy of Adobe Stock.

by Tom - Life After 50 — Certified High Performance Coach

Introduction: The Quiet Truth You Learn Once Life Stops Being Loud

There’s something that happens when you cross the threshold of 50 — especially when you’re walking this life solo.

The noise of the world quiets down.
Friends settle into their families.
Your career finds its groove or loses its shine.
You stop pretending you’ve got forever ahead of you.

And then one day, standing on a gravel road with the wind pushing through the pines, or drinking your morning coffee in an old, quiet house, the question hits you:

“Who the hell am I becoming?”

Out here, living rural… living alone… living deliberately…
you start to realize something you never saw in your 20s or 30s:

Life isn’t about doing more.
It’s about becoming someone you actually like waking up as.

Why Productivity Stops Being the Point After 50

When you’re younger, you chase productivity like it’s salvation.

Do more.
Be more.
Achieve more.
Stack the wins.
Climb the ladder.
Get the house, the truck, the life.

But after 50 — especially living the solo life — something shifts.

You realize that productivity isn’t peace.
Efficiency isn’t meaning.
And a full to-do list isn’t the same as a full heart.

Out here, the world slows down enough for you to see what actually matters.

It’s not the list of things you do.

It’s who you are while you do them.

Why Identity Matters More Than Ever After 50

Age brings clarity.
Solitude brings honesty.
And rural living brings perspective.

Once you’ve lived long enough, you start to see:

You can’t outrun who you are.
You can only choose who you become.

You can fill every day with chores, projects, upgrades, errands, and goals…
But if you don’t like the man you’re becoming, none of it feels right.

This is where the concept of a To-Be List comes in.

Not the usual to-do list.
Not productivity hacks.
Not hustle culture.

A To-Be List is about choosing the kind of man you want to show up as:

• I will be steady.

• I will be honest with myself.

• I will be healthy.

• I will be calm instead of reactive.

• I will be grateful for the simple things.

• I will be the kind of man I respect when no one’s watching.

After 50, this list matters more than anything.

Because out here, you’re not performing for anyone.
You’re not living to impress.
You’re not chasing a soulmate or forcing a storyline.

You’re choosing your identity on purpose.
And you’re living it privately — which makes it real.

The Brendon Burchard Quote That Hit Me Like a Hammer

There’s a line that’s become a guiding principle for me:

“Randomness leads to mediocrity.” — Brendon Burchard

And out here in a rural life — where days can drift together, where routine can turn into autopilot — randomness quietly steals your life.

Not in a dramatic way.

But in a slow, subtle erosion of your identity.

If you don’t intentionally choose the man you want to be
…you become whatever the day shapes you into.

And that’s not good enough.
Not after 50.
Not after everything you’ve lived through.
Not with the wisdom you’ve earned.

This is the stage of life where you take the reins — gently, but firmly.
Not to control the world.
But to guide yourself.

What a To-Be List Looks Like for a Man Living Rural and Solo After 50

You don’t need complicated systems.
Or a planner full of color-coded tasks.

You need a few honest sentences that define the man you’re choosing to be.

Here are some that fit this season of life:

• I will be a man who keeps his word.

• I will be someone who lives with presence, not distraction.

• I will be grateful for the quiet.

• I will be compassionate toward myself.

• I will be the kind of man who handles storms calmly — weather and emotional.

• I will be someone who doesn’t hide from life, even when living solo.

• I will be the kind of man who doesn’t need noise to feel alive.

• I will be a creator, not just a consumer.

• I will be a man who chooses meaning over momentum.

This is the emotional architecture of a grounded life.

This is how you build character without needing applause.

This is how you thrive alone — not just survive.

Why Solitude Makes the To-Be List Even More Important

When you live alone, there’s no one to correct your course.

There’s no spouse to call you out.
No kids to demand your presence.
No partner to say you’ve drifted.
No one holding up a mirror except you.

Solitude is a gift — but a dangerous one if you drift without awareness.

A To-Be List becomes your anchor.

Your internal compass.
Your “check-in.”
Your reminder that you’re not done growing — not by a long shot.

It keeps you engaged with your own life.
Awake.
Awake in a world where it’s easy to fall asleep.

The Real Reason This Matters After 50

Because this is the age where a man must decide:

Will I let my ghost life — the unlived life — pass me by?
Or will I step into the man I still have time to become?

Living solo doesn’t mean living small.
Living rural doesn’t mean living numb.
Living without a partner doesn’t mean living without passion, purpose, or identity.

If anything, it gives you more freedom to reshape yourself.

More space.
More clarity.
More stillness to build a life with intention instead of distraction.

You have more sovereignty over your identity at 50 than you ever did at 25.

So use it.

A Simple Way to Start

You don’t need ceremony.
You don’t need a retreat.
You don’t need a journal full of perfect handwriting.

Here’s how you begin:

1. Sit in a quiet room for five minutes.

Let the noise settle.

2. Ask yourself one question:

“Who do I want to be for the rest of my life?”

3. Write down 5–10 qualities.

Not tasks.
Not goals.
Qualities.

4. Look at it every morning.

Especially on the days where you feel lost or disconnected.

5. Let it guide your choices.

Slowly.
Quietly.
Patiently.
Daily.

Over time, this transforms you — in the way only solitude, simplicity, and intention can.

Closing Thoughts: Out Here, Who You Become Matters More Than What You Do

A rural life after 50 is a different kind of life.

A quieter one.
A more honest one.
A life where you finally hear the truth that was always there:

Your tasks don’t shape your destiny.
Your identity does.

So build the deck.
Stack the firewood.
Fix the truck.
Walk the dog.
Shoot your videos.
Live the life you’re building out here…

But before any of that:

Become the man you choose to be.
Not by accident — but on purpose.

Your To-Be List is your compass.
Your identity is your home.
And out here, you finally have the silence to build both.

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If you would like help on choosing and developing the man you’d like to become, I offer a holistic life coaching program developed from a curriculum-driven Certified High Performance Coaching Method. Reach out if you’d like to learn more.

How Your Inner Child Affects You After Age 50

There’s something magical about hitting 50, isn’t there? It’s like life hands you a permission slip to slow down, reflect, and finally ask, “What do I really want?” But here’s the thing—if you’re like most people, you might not even know how to answer that question anymore. Why? Because somewhere along the way, you stopped listening to one of the most important voices in your life: your inner child.

Let me tell you, ignoring that part of yourself doesn’t just make life feel a little dull—it can leave you feeling stuck, anxious, or even disconnected from the joy you deserve. But here’s the good news: reconnecting with your inner child can reignite your passion, bring clarity to your purpose, and make this chapter of life your most fulfilling yet.

The Inner Child: Who They Are and Why They Matter

Your inner child is the part of you that still remembers what it feels like to dream big, to play without worrying about what others think, and to find joy in the simplest things. It’s the version of you that existed before the world told you to “be realistic” or “grow up.”

But here’s the problem: as we get older, we start to silence that voice. We trade curiosity for responsibility, play for productivity, and dreams for practicality. And while those sacrifices might seem necessary, they come at a cost. When we ignore our inner child, we lose touch with the things that make life feel meaningful.

Think about it—when was the last time you did something just because it made you happy? Not because it was productive or necessary, but because it lit you up inside? If it’s been a while, you’re not alone. Most of us get so caught up in the grind of life that we forget to nurture the part of ourselves that craves joy, creativity, and connection.

How Ignoring Your Inner Child Hurts You

When you silence your inner child, it doesn’t just disappear—it starts to show up in other ways. Maybe you’ve felt it as a nagging sense of dissatisfaction, even when everything in your life looks “fine” on paper. Or maybe it’s that low-level anxiety that creeps in when you’re alone with your thoughts, making you wonder, “Is this really all there is?”

Ignoring your inner child can also lead to burnout. Without that spark of joy and curiosity, life starts to feel like a series of obligations instead of an adventure. And let’s be honest—who wants to spend their 50s and beyond just checking boxes?

Reconnecting with Your Inner Child After 50

Here’s the truth: it’s never too late to reconnect with your inner child. In fact, this stage of life is the perfect time to do it. You’ve got the wisdom of experience, the freedom to redefine your priorities, and (hopefully) a little more time to focus on what really matters.

So, how do you start? Here are three simple steps:

1. Reflect on What You Loved as a Kid
   Take a moment to think back to your childhood. What did you love doing? What made you lose track of time? Maybe it was painting, building things, exploring the outdoors, or just daydreaming. Write those things down—they’re clues to what still lights you up today.

2. Give Yourself Permission to Play
   Play isn’t just for kids—it’s a vital part of being human. Whether it’s picking up an old hobby, trying something new, or simply letting yourself be silly, play is how we reconnect with joy and creativity. And guess what? You don’t need anyone’s permission but your own.

3. Listen to That Voice Inside
   Start paying attention to the little nudges and whispers from your inner child. When you feel drawn to something—whether it’s a new project, a spontaneous trip, or even just a walk in the woods—honor it. That’s your inner child guiding you back to what matters.

Why This Matters for Life After 50

Here’s the thing: life after 50 isn’t about winding down—it’s about leveling up. It’s about stepping into a version of yourself that’s more authentic, more joyful, and more aligned with what you truly want. And reconnecting with your inner child is one of the most powerful ways to do that.

When you honor that part of yourself, you’ll find that life feels lighter, more exciting, and—dare I say it—more fun. You’ll start to see possibilities where there used to be roadblocks, and you’ll have the energy and enthusiasm to pursue them.

Your Challenge

So, here’s my challenge for you: Take 10 minutes today to reconnect with your inner child. Reflect on what you loved as a kid, give yourself permission to play, and listen to that voice inside. And if you’re feeling bold, share what you discover in the comments below—I’d love to hear what lights you up!

Because here’s the truth: life after 50 isn’t about settling—it’s about soaring. And your inner child is ready to help you take flight.

Lake Superior: Exploring the North Shore | Photography

In this video I feature the north shore of Lake Superior between Sault Ste. Marie on the south to Wawa on the north.

I also share some thoughts and techniques behind the photos that I showcase in this video.

Winter Adventure in Chutes Provincial Park

Please enjoy the little video I made featuring my winter adventure in Chutes Provincial Park, in Massey, Ontario, Canada.

Adventure On the Ice

A side-lit pressure ridge on the frozen north channel of Lake Huron (C)2023 Thomas Detert.

Woke up this morning to find a compelling sky over the north channel of Lake Huron. The light was surreal. The temperatures were mild. And the winds (starting out at least) were tolerable.

My furry friend Lukas needed a walk one way or the other.. so I decided to pack up my Nikon Z6ii, my wide angle 14-30, my 24-200, and my 50 mm macro lenses and head out.

I didn’t really have a specific destination in mind. I just knew that walking out on the hard-pack snow of the frozen North Channel was where I wanted to go.

I ended up walking quite a ways around the point. My first point of interest was what you see above — a pressure ridge side-lit by a moody partly-sunny sky. The sun was relatively low in the sky which is pretty normal for mid-February at this latitude.

I tried many different perspectives and compositions on this ridge until Lukas complained and it was time to move on.

Ice Detail (macro) (C) 2023 Thomas Detert.

Nearby there was an ice chunk that was obviously frozen in place after a wind-induced ice break-up earlier in the winter season.

I was drawn to the frost and the snow, as well as the patterns in the ice itself. The above image was captured using my Nikkor Z 50 MC macro lens, handheld.

It truly amazes me how the small details can be so intricate.

A beautiful ice cave on the north channel of Lake Huron (C)2023 Thomas Detert.

But I must say the highlight was coming across this little ice cave. Again, the sky did not disappoint!

The light made for such a moody scene, yet somehow still so beautiful and surreal!

I really enjoyed my 3 hour hike.

Beauty is out there.. year round. You just have to looking for it

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based in St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. He photographs with Nikon cameras and lenses. He is also a general dentist with a practice located in Thessalon, ON. In addition, he is a Certified High Performance Coach, Profound Impact Coach, and is the co-host of Finding Your Inner Bad Ass with Tom and Bridget podcast.

To inquire about print purchases, please visit https://tomsview.ca

Chores

Life in the country means you always have stuff you have to get done. Living in the north, the fall is always a demanding time as one has to prepare for the inevitable winter, and the snow, ice, and freezing temperatures it may bring.

But today was a beautiful fall day, and I decided to make a rather silent (non-talking) film of me tackling firewood chores around the yard.

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based in St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. He photographs with Nikon cameras and lenses. He is also a general dentist with a practice located in Thessalon, ON. In addition, he is a Certified High Performance Coach, Profound Impact Coach, and is the co-host of Finding Your Inner Bad Ass with Tom and Bridget podcast.

To inquire about print purchases, please visit https://tomsview.ca

My Editing Workflow

This morning was very chilly here on St. Joseph Island. I woke up to sunny, clear skies with -15 C (about 3 F). However, the winds were calm and I bundled up to take my German Shepherd Lukas for his morning walk. When I got back, I was treated to some beautiful scenery at the lake.

Frozen winter shoreline of Lake Huron on the North Channel (C)2022 Thomas Detert

So with this beautiful scene, I just had to break out my camera. There’s a price to pay for beauty like this… sore, numb and very cold finger tips while using my Nikon Z6 II to work the shoreline.

A beautiful shoreline shot in winter (C)2022 Thomas Detert

I then got the idea it would be cool to just film myself editing these photos in LightRoom to give you an idea of how I take raw images from the camera and transform them into these eye-catching images.

Icy Patterns Along The Shoreline (C) 2022 Thomas Detert

Here is my tutorial video below….

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based in St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. He photographs with Nikon cameras and lenses. He is also a general dentist with a practice located in Thessalon, ON. In addition, he is a Certified High Performance Coach, Profound Impact Coach, and is the co-host of Finding Your Inner Bad Ass with Tom and Bridget podcast.

To inquire about print purchases, please visit https://tomsview.ca

Lake Superior in the Fall - My Adventure

This video was fun to film, not so much fun to edit. But it shows highlights of my recent adventure with Andrew McLachlan’s Lake Superior Wild and Scenic Photography Workshop.

In this vlog-style video you will see rushing rivers, the beautiful shoreline of Lake Superior, and some amazing hiking trails.

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based in St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. He photographs with Nikon cameras and lenses. He is also a general dentist with a practice located in Thessalon, ON. In addition, he is a Certified High Performance Coach, Profound Impact Coach, and is the co-host of Finding Your Inner Bad Ass with Tom and Bridget podcast.

To inquire about print purchases, please visit https://tomsview.ca

It Pays to Keep on Learning

They say that learning is a life-long process. And I must say that I agree with that 100%. When it comes to Adobe LightRoom, I thought I had a pretty decent editing workflow for my landscapes.

And then I watched this video!

Photographer and YouTuber Mark Denney just blew my mind on how to use the Hue/Saturation/Luminance section in Adobe LightRoom.

If you ever wanted to learn how to use the more powerful colour (color) editing features of Adobe LightRoom, his is the video to watch!

It inspired me to re-process a photo using his methods. I have to say I really like how it turned out!

Inukshuk on Superior. (C) 2021 Thomas Detert

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based in St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. He photographs with Nikon cameras and lenses. He is also a general dentist with a practice located in Thessalon, ON. In addition, he is a Certified High Performance Coach, Profound Impact Coach, and is the co-host of Finding Your Inner Bad Ass with Tom and Bridget podcast.

To inquire about print purchases, please visit https://tomsview.ca

The Narrows Go Deep | Zion National Park and the Virgin River

Near the beginning of our intrepid hike up the Virgin River towards the narrows.

It was 7 years ago when my son I took a spring break trip to the American South-West. Specifically, we visited Nevada, Utah, and Arizona on a 10 day adventure that never stopped giving us amazingly beautiful scenery to photograph.

This story is about our adventure that we had in Zion National Park, on February 18, 2014. Specifically, we walked up the Virgin River past the last shuttle stop, into the narrows of the canyon.

If you don’t mind cold wet feet, water up to your arm pits, and the chance of flash floods at any time, it’s a wonderful adventure.

We had heard about Zion Canyon, as you went further up the Virgin River, that the canyon narrowed considerably and made for some amazing photography. So we went to a local adventure-outfitter company to get more information, and get geared up.

It turns out that you get a big walking stick, a dry suit, and rubber shoes, along with some good advice, warnings, and precautions!

This wasn’t my first time in Zion, but it was my first time in “winter”. I put winter in quotation marks because I hail from Northern Ontario and we normally get real winters! So besides being a little cooler than my previous visits, and lacking leaves on the deciduous trees, it was business as usual…. except perhaps for the temperature of the water — that was cold!

As we ventured farther and further into the canyon, the daylight was really played upon by the walls of the canyon.

We were not completely alone in the narrows. We met a few other intrepid explorers. They, like us, wondered what we, and they, had gotten ourselves into!

But the scenery, the rush of the river, and the sounds playing in the confines of the canyon conspired to make it all worthwhile!

The lighting changed at every bend, and turn in the river. It was so amazing to photograph.

The progress was slow-going. The river could be deep at times, and the current was always strong. We burned the shortened winter daylight hours quickly. Being caught after dark in this river was not an option and eventually we had to make the call to turn around so we could safely get back.

It was an adventure I will never forget!

The image below is my personal favourite from that day. It shows the adventure, the river, the narrows, and nicely sums up what was, for me at least, one awesome day with my son.

Iceland Never Disappoints

So how did this image happen? Allow me to tell you the story!

In early 2017, my friend’s son Noah had the urge to go on an adventure. I had recently quit my job and sold my business at the time. Robin asked me if I’d go with her son on a travel adventure because she couldn’t go, and didn’t want him travelling alone. Noah was 19 at the time.

So, with time and some money on my hands, I agreed.

Noah’s original plan was to tour around a bit in Central America. We did some initial research and then there was some bad headlines in the news about the stability of the region. So we decided we had better choose some other place.

Then, like a light bulb turning on, Iceland popped into our mind.

We learned all we could about Iceland. Booked some preliminary accommodations and flights on Iceland Air. What an adventure!

This photo was taken on Day 2 of our trip. As beautiful as this picture is, is doesn’t do justice to actually standing there, taking in this beautiful meadow with a glacier melt river running through it, with multiple waterfalls.

Our adventures entailed a flat tire, gale force winds, meandering through caves and crevices, crazy and narrow mountain roads, natural hot springs, and so much more!

If you fancy a trip to Iceland, you won’t be disappointed. However, be forewarned, it is not inexpensive!

I recently re-worked this photo to create a large print for a client. I am really looking forward to seeing it hang on the wall!

If you’d like to order a print, simple get in touch with me via the Contact Menu!

Tea Time on Lake Superior

Ice and Rocks Detail | (C) 2021 Thomas Detert

Over the years, I’ve seen many videos on YouTube of people undertaking an outdoor winter adventure. They hike somewhere breathtaking beautiful and enjoy a fire with a hot beverage.

Well, I live in Northern Ontario, and I figured, Hell, I can do that!. So I did, last Sunday.

You can watch our adventure in the video at the end of this blog post!

With the enlisted help and company of my friend Jake Cormier and his trusty furry companion Hudson, we embarked on a winter adventure.

We drove up to Lake Superior Provincial Park on a chilly Sunday morning. The air temperature was hovering around the -9 C (16 F) mark, with very little wind. We parked at the Orphan Lake trailhead and set out with two backpacks, with sandwiches, snacks, an ultra-light camper stove, some mugs and tea.

Overlooking Orphan Lake | Lake Superior Provincial Park | (C)2021 Thomas Detert

Once we reached the Orphan Lake Overlook, it was time to break out the sandwiches. Lunch sure does taste a whole lot better when you worked up and appetite and earned it! As we ate our lunch, the cloud cover broke up and left us with a spectacular view, with some of the weirdest lighting and cloud formation I had ever seen!

Weird light and clouds over Lake Superior. (C) 2021 Thomas Detert

The Orphan Lake Trail meanders its way down to the shoreline of Lake Superior. When we got there, it was time for tea. Jake scooped up a pot of ice cold Lake Superior water, and set it up to boil on his very small, ultra-light isobutane camp stove. Several minutes later, we were enjoying peppermint tea on the beach, on a cold winter’s day, on the shore of the largest freshwater lake in the world!

I was also most pleased with the snap I captured below. It is definitely one of my most favourite black and white photos I have ever taken!

Icy Patterns on a Sunny Day (C) 2021 Thomas Detert

As Jake put it, this day and adventure were one for the books.

If you’d like to share in our adventure, watch the video blog below!

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based out of St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. You can view more of his work, or reach out to him at https://www.tomsview.ca.

Sunny Ice Sheets

Morning sunrise creates interesting effects on the panes of ice forming on the north channel of Lake Huron.

Living in Canada, particularly in Northern Ontario, it is difficult to avoid winter. Sometimes it comes in a little late, with a mild start. But it eventually gets you: The cold, biting winds. The freezing rain. The snow drifts. It may lead one to question why I live here. And then you get to see images like this one above, but only right before your eyes, in real life.

This image was taken on the morning of January 8, 20201, as the sun was rising. We had not seen the sun in quite some time. The weather had been a dismal grey overcast, but mild. But after a high pressure system cleared the skies, the temperature, of course, plummeted overnight.

When I awoke that day, I heard a cacophony of sound emanating from the water. Dull groans, mixed with shrills and shrieks as the ice plates were lazily bumping into one another. I looked out my window and saw this beautiful site of fractured ice panes piling up on the shore, and then larger panes still floating out in the channel. It was all so very peaceful.

I won’t lie, winter is often very cruel and unpleasant here on St. Joseph Island, but there are days that redeem it.

I hope you enjoyed this little story about the photo.

This print, and many others in my gallery are available for purchase for you to enjoy at home, or to give as a gift to someone you care about. Just click on “Contact” to get in touch!

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based on St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada.

You can enjoy more of Tom’s work at www.tomsview.ca.

Nikon Z6 II - Trial Run on Lake Superior

Reflections of a Moody Cove - Lake Superior

On October 6th, 2020, there was a tragedy in my life. I slipped while crawling along a granite slope and fell over 10 feet into a small “pond” that was about 2 feet deep with a granite bottom. Besides getting soaked head-to-toe, and sustaining severe injuries to my pride, I utterly destroyed my Nikon D810 and attached wide angle lens. And, last but not least, I hurt my left ankle!

I tried desperately to dry both the camera and lens out. 24 hours in dry rice, dry heat from the wood stove, hair dryer, etc. But the body of the D810 was actually somehow warped and the battery door and memory card door would not close again properly. Shocking considering the frame of that camera is made from a magnesium alloy.

Luckily my body (and my pride) healed without incident!

However, losing my main landscape camera and lens, I was left with tough decisions to make as to what to replace the Nikon D810 with. Was it time to upgrade to the Nikon D850? Or should I switch to a mirrorless Nikon Z camera. Nikon was just releasing the Nikon Z6 II with the Z7 II I to be released in December 2020. Or was it time to look at Canon, or Sony options??

Well, as you may have guessed from the title of this story, I went with a Nikon Z6 II and a Nikkor Z 14-30 f/4 lens.

The Nikon Z7 II has only one real advantage of the Z6 II and that is sensor resolution. But that is a double-edged sword. The Nikon Z6 II out-performs the Z7 II in several ways including better low-light performance. Once the firmware update is released in February 2021, the Z6 II will have equal video capabilities. Yet the Z7 II is over CDN$ 1300 more than the Z6 II (at the time of purchase in mid-November 2020)! And now the technology exists to upgrade the resolution of a digital still using AI (artificial intelligence) algorithm-based software. (See https://topazlabs.com/gigapixel-ai/ for more details). So the only possible advantage of the significantly more expensive Z7 II for my needs (sensor resolution for larger prints) has been negated for the price USD$ 99!

So, I took my newly purchased Nikon Z6 II along with me on a drive along Highway 17N, going north of Sault Ste. Marie, along the Lake Superior Shoreline and into Lake Superior Provincial Park.

With a moody lake and sky, lighting condition were challenging. And despite inadvertently shooting in JPG as opposed to RAW, I am very happy with the quality of the images. The Z6 II feels very comfortable in my hands, and I believe that any experienced Nikon DSLR user will find making the switch to the Z series cameras to be a pleasant and rewarding experience.

Shout out to James at Camera Craft for helping me think through my purchase options! If you live in the Sault Ste. Marie or surrounding area and are looking for any new gear (cameras, filters, tripods, lighting etc), he’s the man to see!

Cedars On The Rock - Lake Superior

These photos and many others are available for purchase as fine art prints!

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Thomas Detert is a landscape photographer based on St. Joseph Island, Ontario, Canada. You can see more of his work at https://www.tomsview.ca.

Moss on a Rock

Moss on a Rock, Pukaskwa National Park, Ontario, Canada.

Pukaskwa National Park is located near Marathon, Ontario Canada. A 5 hour drive north-west from Sault Ste. Marie, near the Pic Mobert First Nation.

Pukaskwa has a lot to offer the adventurous, thrill-seeking traveller, as well as the beach goers. It has beautiful hiking trails that are short and easy, medium trails, and even an 18 km (11 mile) round-trip hike to a suspension bridge over a river. There are two sand beaches to choose from. A recently renovated and modernized campground offers an affordable and fun place to stay.

What brings me back to Pukaskwa, time and time again, is the kayaking. Within paddling distance are several coves, each with its own unique spectacles to offer. I love spending hours on the water exploring the shoreline and adjacent coves.

You could paddle morning, noon and evening to the same coves and each time the views would be dramatically different. The morning sun and the evening sun highlight different sides of the cove.

I must have passed by the above granite shore a dozen times in the last two years. But it wasn’t until sunset on August 13, 2020 that I saw the light playing with the calm water, the exposed granite, and the multi-coloured, mutli-layer moss.

I love this photo so much in fact that it is my current desktop background on my laptop!

For the techie in you.. This was shot with a Sony RX10IV camera at 24 mm @ f/16, handheld from my kayak. It was shot handheld, and processed in Adobe LightRoom.

Pukaskwa… I will be back!

Icy Reflections

The Story Behind Icy Reflections

Icy Reflections by Thomas Detert

It was a beautiful, sunny and relatively mild winter day in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, Canada. My friend Jake Cormier and I decided to take a drive north of the city, along Highway 17 to explore the Lake Superior Shoreline.

As we headed north, we lost the sunshine, and the vast majority of the wind.

We drove all the way up to Agawa Bay, located in the southern end of Lake Superior Provincial Park. The experience was surreal. The lake was completely open and with the exception of some snow in spots along the shoreline, it looked and felt like a cool summer day.

You could see the sand, the sand bars, and even some remnants of the grass blades growing out of the sand.

We worked our way down south, back towards Sault Ste. Marie.. We stopped at a popular photo spot known as SawPit Bay. It was at this location I photographed “Icy Reflections”. We were losing the light. However, the darkening light and sky made for a nice somber mood to photograph little microcosms in the bay.

Icy Reflections is the ultimate photo from the day’s shoot. I really love the mood it captures.

How I Spent My Leap Year Day

Before all this Covid-19 Corona Virus pandemic stuff hit, 2020 was off to a pretty good start for me!

On February 29 (Leap Year Day) , I decided to film a vlog about my day. I hope you enjoy it!

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