On a clear day after a storm, there are few better places in which to get a camera out than Jackson Hole. In the first few minutes of full light in the valley floor, there is a chance to allow the camera to work to its full capability. There is decent depth of field without the light being too garish, but for every minute that passes, the light becomes harsher. Within 30 minutes the opportunity has gone.

I want to thank American supermodel - Brooks Nader - for playing to my narrative that freezing January morning beneath the Tetons. She is very game; in fact, she may well serve as my enabler. Not may girls we work with could pull that look off in those temperatures. The Devil may well wear Prada, but Brooks wears very little, even when it is hellishly cold.

If the town of Zermatt in Switzerland has the Matterhorn, then Jackson Hole has the Tetons. Both communities stand guarded by Twin Peaks mountains so dramatically grand that there is an extra sense of excitement on arrival. To land at Jackson Hole airport on a clear day is a thrill, even for the most travel weary of passengers; there is as pronounced a visual overload as there is at any airport in America. When I think about the town of Jackson, I find it impossible not to think about the Tetons. To me they are coupled at the hip.

Grand Teton, at 13,775 feet, is the highest point of the Teton Range and it rises steeply from the valley floor 7,000 feet below. The amphitheatre has offered a great canvas for photographers to tell stories since the invention of the camera and we always work here fully aware that we are on well-trodden ground.