#37
Randy Hanna: The Storyteller Behind the Lens
When asked how they became photographers, most individuals recount stories of their first camera, a class, or a mentor. In contrast, Randy Hanna’s narrative begins on a farm in Arkansas, with a yellow Kodak box full of slides arriving in the mailbox, and a boy who realizes—almost at a single glance—that the world is far more expansive and vibrant than he had ever imagined.
The Boy Who Chased a Yellow Box
Randy spent his childhood in rural Arkansas, where life was balanced between school and chores on a farm. Travel was considered something others experienced. His father, however, maintained an unusual tradition: each year, he traveled to Colorado with his hunting companions. While the others returned with game, Randy’s father came back with images he had taken with his twin lens Roloflex and Kodachrome.
Each time Randy opened a new yellow Kodak box with his dad, he would exclaim:
"My gosh, look at those colors."
Randy had never witnessed such beautiful landscapes firsthand. The slides served as a gateway to other worlds. Soon, he would race to the mailbox after school, hoping that Kodak had delivered another yellow box. While he was permitted to carry the box into the house, only his father could open it. Later, as the family gathered around the projector, Randy absorbed not only the images but the notion that photographs could serve as windows into distant places.
During these evenings, a quiet pledge took root: I must travel. I need to see these sights for myself.
From ROTC to the Pacific Northwest
Life did not immediately lead him to glaciers or polar bears. Instead, it ushered him into ROTC, an Officer’s Commission, and a career in the U.S. Army. Upon graduating from college and ROTC, Randy was granted the exceptional opportunity to select his posting. He unfolded a map of the United States and pondered, "How far can I travel from Arkansas and still remain within the country?"
He listed Washington State, Colorado, and California as possibilities. Ultimately, the Army assigned him to Fort Lewis in Washington. The Pacific Northwest, with its frigid seas, vast forests, and numerous snow-capped mountains, would become the first landscape that genuinely felt like a new home.
There, a new passion emerged: scuba diving. After experiencing murky dives in Arkansas lakes and ponds—"nothing to see but mudfish," he jokes—his initial dive in Northwest waters left him awestruck.
"Oh my God, I have to photograph this!"
Soon, Randy devoted his weekends to underwater exploring and capturing on film the colorful sea life within Puget Sound. He would transform his slides into Cibachrome prints—a process known for its vivid hues and notorious toxicity. Amid enlargers, trays, and the sharp scent of chemicals, he quietly assembled a collection of vibrant underwater images.
As his skills grew, Randy’s curiosity led him to teaching. A local dive shop asked him to instruct underwater photography and then to guide trips to the South Pacific. Always looking to do more, Randy approached PADI—the Professional Association of Diving Instructors—and offered to create a specialty course in underwater photography.
He followed through and wrote the instructor syllabus. Years later, those teaching materials are still used, reflecting Randy’s thoroughness and his drive to share personal expertise for the benefit of others.
Like many of those who serve their country, Randy encountered many challenges and developed useful skills for survival and leadership. He vowed that once he had finished his service, (not ‘if’ but ‘when’ he returned home from deployment), he would honor his promise to himself to take his first photo safari. That single word—when instead of if—became a quiet act of defiance and hope.
Randy’s first safari to Africa left a profound mark on him. The vastness of the land, the presence of massive herds of wildlife, and the quality of light—all felt both unfamiliar and deeply right. One trip turned into many, and before long, Randy was leading safaris and guiding guests through the very landscapes he once only dreamed about. Soon his identity shifted: Randy became a full-time photographer and expedition leader.
With a great sense of humor, Randy jokes that he was once a starving artist, but there’s nothing uncertain about his commitment to this chapter of his life. It’s clear he was heading here all along.
Svalbard Spring Photo Tour with Randy Hanna
78°22’N, 15°65’E
Head north with world-renowned photographer and tutor Randy Hanna, capturing the frozen Arctic landscape of Svalbard in the spring.
- 12 guests
- 10 days
Svalbard Summer Photo Tour with Randy Hanna
78°22’N, 15°65’E
Explore summertime Svalbard with nature photographer Randy Hanna, capturing intimate shots of wildlife in their stunning Arctic habitat.
- 12 guests
- 10 days
Scoresbysund Northern Lights Photo Tour with Randy Hanna
70°50’N, 25°00’W
Photograph the northern lights illuminating the skies above Scoresbysund with nature photography legend Randy Hanna.
- 12 guests
- 9 days
Drawn North: The Arctic’s Pull
Though Randy calls East Africa his “home away from home,” he’s increasingly captivated by the extremes of the polar world: Antarctica, Greenland, and especially the Arctic around Svalbard.
On paper, Africa and the Arctic are worlds apart—elephants and savannah versus ice, mountains, and polar bears. Yet, for Randy, both places share a common ground of wild, untamed beauty, free-roaming animals, and landscapes that humble you in the best possible way.
What draws Randy to the Arctic is its unpredictability. Even with meticulous planning, everything can change once the ship leaves the harbor—wind, weather, shifting ice, wildlife movements. No two days, or even hours, are the same.
“It’s more than an adventure. It is an expedition on steroids.” Add to that dimension the feeling of being on a micro-cruise with a small group size of just 12 guests, and you really have something beyond your wildest dreams. It’s that sense of being at one with nature without the distractions of large crowds or the annoying buzz of too many Zodiacs on the water.
For a photographer, that means staying alert at all times. A speck on the horizon can quickly become a polar bear or a walrus surfacing near the Zodiac. A calm drift through pack ice might suddenly offer a front-row seat to a hunt. The key is being ready: batteries charged, settings dialed in, and a mind (and lens selection) always tuned to composition, even when you’re just watching.
Light, Ice, and the Intelligence of Craft
Randy admits that in places like Svalbard, your camera can be your enemy until you teach it to be your ally. Snow and ice confuse exposure systems, and scenes dominated by white can easily turn gray unless you know how to read the light and override the camera’s instincts.
He recalls his first polar bear photo in the Arctic—a mother and mature cub, staring directly at his Zodiac from an ice float. The photo is striking: the bears are luminous against the snow; their gaze locked with the viewer’s.
Two things make it special. First, it was his very first polar bear photograph. Second, while he says he “got lucky” on the exposure, it was really about ‘preparation meeting opportunity’ and years of learning how light behaves on water and snow that allowed him to react quickly, even in a heart-pounding moment.
When it comes to composition, Randy is always thinking about eye level. With wildlife, he aims to be at or below the animal’s gaze. Shooting from above diminishes the subject; shooting from below gives the animal presence and power. In that first polar bear portrait, he’s just below the eye line, letting viewers feel the bear’s authority on the ice.
Another example is a walrus portrait made with a long lens. The image is filled with bristles and tusks in sharp focus up front, fading softly into the background—a controlled use of depth of field that feels almost sculptural. Achieving this effect required Randy to know his lens and settings inside out.
As for landscapes, sometimes an image unfolds with the wrong equipment. Randy was in a Zodiac when he realized his camera had a telephoto lens rather than a wide-angle lens that he had expected. He was forced to look for a different type of shot and spotted ice melting and dripping from the tip of an iceberg. Zooming in with his telephoto lens allowed Randy to create a shot that was awarded the reFocus 2025 “Landscape Photographer of the Year” award.
These aren’t just technical tricks, they’re how he infuses emotion into the frame. He’s not satisfied with just a record shot. He wants to convey what it felt like to be there: the tension, the majesty, even the humor, so that viewers who may never visit the Arctic can still feel a true connection.
Teaching on the Move
On Secret Atlas voyages, Randy serves as a photo pro—a role that fits him perfectly. The small ships he works on can reach places larger vessels can’t, and the experienced crew—captains, deckhands, Zodiac drivers—respond instantly to his requests. If he asks for the sun behind the group for a perfect iceberg shot, they know exactly what to do.
Guests quickly learn that Randy is generous with both his time and his knowledge. He teaches camera settings, exposures in challenging conditions, composition, and, perhaps most importantly, when to break the rules. He often quotes Picasso:
“Learn the rules of composition so you know when to apply them, and most importantly, know when to break them.”
— Randy Hanna
For example, if a guest is struggling with the rule of thirds, Randy might point out a scene where putting the horizon dead center—breaking that rule—creates powerful symmetry with reflections and clouds. If someone is obsessed with sharpness, he might show how a bit of motion blur in a flock of seabirds against a glacier can transform a photo into something painterly.
Above all, he returns to storytelling. Every image, he reminds people, should answer a question: What can I show someone back home who will never come here? What can I share that might inspire another photographer to join us?
A Soft-Spoken Invitation
What makes Randy such a compelling travel companion isn’t just his experience or accolades - even though he’s quietly winning international awards for his Arctic work – it’s his blend of humility, curiosity, and care in wild places.
He respects the animals and the environments in which he photographs. He understands the emotional stakes for guests who may have waited a lifetime for the chance to stand on the deck of a small ship, camera in hand, hoping for their own encounter with a polar bear on blue ice.
He won’t promise full-frame bears on day one. He’s honest about regulations, distances, and the role of luck. But he’ll use every bit of his experience to put you in the best possible place when something extraordinary happens, and to help you be ready.
In the end, traveling with Randy Hanna on a Secret Atlas photo tour isn’t just about coming home with great pictures—though you likely will. It’s about seeing the Arctic through the eyes of someone who’s spent a lifetime answering that early call from a glowing slide sorter in a dark Arkansas living room:
Go out. See more. Bring back stories.
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