John Conn met his match.

It wasn't another person who equaled his combination of resourcefulness, versatility and toughness; rather, we are happy to say, it was one of our cameras.

Not long ago John returned from "a 45-day tour of the bottom of the world," during which he visited Antarctica, Patagonia, Tierra del Fuego, the Falklands and South Georgia Island. His primary camera was a D700, with a D300S serving as backup. Upon his return, we received this email:

"Just for the record, the D700 has been bogged (big old mud hole up to my waist), rained on, salt watered on, dropped to the floor in a bar as I reached for peanuts and dropped on the side of a mountain as I reached for support. It slid with me down a grassy slope for about 200 feet, followed by my friend Peter. I had the choice of trying to stop 220 pounds of Peter or grab the D700 out of the way of his shocked face. Peter indeed kept sliding by (sorry, Peter). And sometimes, I actually used it to take photos."

John Conn tends to go at life in his own way. As a photographer he can't be classified: architecture, interiors, photojournalism, underwater photography, travel, nature—he's done it all. He was a Marine combat photographer who later earned a BFA in photography from the School of Visual Arts. Images from his New York City subways series are in the permanent collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The "bottom of the world" tour was something he'd thought about for a few years. The biggest problem: "I don't really like the cold." But not knowing how to swim didn't stop him from learning to scuba dive so he could take underwater photos, so low temperatures weren't going to get in the way of an Antarctic adventure.

Neither was relative unfamiliarity with his cameras.

Not that long ago, John shot film with medium and large format cameras and Nikon F4 and F5 SLRs. He'd used his D700—sparingly—for only two months before the trip; he bought the D300S a week before departure. "On the airplane I was still reading the instructions for the D300S," he says. But it wasn't a problem. "You're still taking a photograph," he maintains, dismissing all talk of any sort of transition to digital.

"The most important thing I had to learn was not to look at the back of the camera. Do that and you lose the shot that comes after the shot you're looking at. In Antarctica I saw people who took shots of a whale's tail fluke showing them around—and there's another whale, and it just sounded, and they missed it because they're looking at the backs of the cameras. You look in the viewfinder, you take the shot and your mind says, I have it or I missed it, and you trust that." John saved his looking for the end of the day when he downloaded his images from his cameras to his portable hard drive.

He made only two variations in his shooting technique. One was to set his cameras for -1/3 exposure compensation to deal with light reflecting from ice. The other was to take advantage of the D700's high ISO, low noise capability. "It took me a while to get used to the idea that I could bump up the ISO. Remember, I come from film—and not that long ago. I'd struggle to hold the camera steady, especially on a boat, to get an acceptable, fast shutter speed and then I'd remember, hey, I can crank the ISO."

A trio of NIKKORs were his primary lenses on the trip: an AF Fisheye-NIKKOR 16mm f/2.8D, an AF-S Zoom-NIKKOR 17-35mm f/2.8D IF-ED and an AF VR Zoom-NIKKOR 80-400mm f/4.5-5.6D ED. From time to time he'd also use an AF Zoom-NIKKOR 35-70mm f/2.8D.

In addition to freelance photography, John sells framed fine art prints of his work, so overall quality and consistently faithful color reproduction were prime concerns, and his gear was up to the challenge of the environment. John returned with images that communicate not only what Antarctica looks like, but also what it feels like to be there. In his photos he's captured a sense of the uniqueness of the places he visited. These are beautiful landscapes, but they are also mysterious and forbidding; this is unexplored territory, and he pictured it as it made him feel. "Everything is massive, everything towers over you, so when I saw a lone penguin, it's like I was seeing myself. Even the two penguins—I call them Lewis and Clark—there's a question you ask: what are they doing out there?"

Ultimately, though, John saw the territory in terms of images. "When I'm shooting I'm not impressed with things. I'm completely concerned with shooting. I'll walk by and think, oh, that would be a good photograph. I don't think I ever say, wow, that's a great sunset; I'm thinking f/8 and 1/250 second. Later on, when I'm looking at the photograph, I'm thinking, wow, it really is nice there."

His photographs, he realizes, show not only the way he sees the world, but the way the world sees him. "Basically what I'm showing you is what is reflecting back to me. It's there, you can't miss it."

The range of John's photography is on view at his website.