Built to Run Cold
A grinder that only works in good conditions isn’t a camp grinder. We put the VSSL Java G45 through a snowed-in May morning to prove it.
Snow in May. Coffee regardless.
Some gear gets tested in a studio. This gear got tested at the tailgate after an out-of-the-blue May snowstorm. Because of course we should’ve expected snow.
A mid-May trip home from Flagstaff to Montana after Overland Expo should have been a decent indicator that Mother Nature could (and would in fact) say “hold my beer, I brought you nerds something”. We set off late from Flag and hard-charged the drive for a solid 7 hours before meeting a fresh spring snowstorm while traversing Highway 20 en route back to the comfy confines of I-15. It wasn’t until that last mountain pass that we decided that we weren’t making SLC that night and would need to find a spot to sleep. So, as any road-ragged souls would, we consulted onX Offroad for a quiet spot to take a breath and get a few winks before continuing the trip home. We dipped off of I-15 about 2 hours south of Salt Lake found a nice little spot 15 minutes down the road. We parked, popped the tents and stretched out. No sheep to count as I drifted off to sleep, only the thoughts of a freshly earned cup of coffee in the morning.
I woke up 4 hours later to soft morning light and my GFC tent closing onto my face from the pounds and pounds of wet snow. It’s a hell of an alarm clock. After the jolt subsided and I managed to shimmy out of the tent while keeping it from closing me in and quickly made for the only thing that could possible brighten the day. Yep, that would be the ‘jo. We took the VSSL Java G45 coffee grinder and their pour over system and gave it the best test I could think of for a proper winter (er, spring) morning; you guessed it. We made some glorious coffee.
The idea
A grinder that only works in good conditions isn't a camp grinder. It's a kitchen appliance with a marketing budget.
So we didn't shoot this one clean. We shot it in hands that were cold, on a surface that wasn't level, next to a bag of Motoring Coffee's Garage Queen blend that’s been lugged around in the “lets make coffee wherever the hell we want” case. The story here isn't the product sitting pretty. It's the product doing the thing it was designed to do, in weather that makes a lot of gear quit.
How we shot it
The Tacoma did double duty as both subject and basecamp, parked deep in fresh snow with the GFC camper catching drifts on the roof. We let the truck's exhaust and the low winter light do some of the work for us, that soft haze in a couple of frames isn't an accident, it's exactly what a cold engine looks like on a morning like that.
From there we moved in tight. Hands assembling the Java G45, the orange accent ring catching what light there was, the grind dial doing its job while everything else around it was frozen solid. We closed the sequence out inside the cab, VSSL mug in hand against the wheel, engine finally warm, coffee finally ready.
No studio lighting, no controlled environment. Just a truck, a grinder, a pour over, and a good bag of coffee. Oh yeah, and conditions that told the truth about whether the gear could handle it.
Why this one mattered
VSSL came into the Signal House fold the same way Dillon Optics did, through a great conversation during Overland Expo. That's become one of our favorite ways to work, get out and chat with people, and meet them where they’re at. We’ll work off a brief. But if nobody hands us a shot list, best believe we’ll build the story around what the product is actually for, then go find the conditions that prove it.
A spring snowstorm did the proving for us on this one. And the VSSL gear didn't need a favorable setting to look good. It needed cold hands and a snowed-in truck, and it came through both.
More from the Overland Expo shenanigans, and the ongoing work with VSSL, is coming to the feed soon.
Gear That Earns Its Spot in the Frame
We took Dillon Optics’ Corsair PM-01 to the high desert at Copper City, where honest ground makes for honest product photography.
There's a moment on every good shoot when the location stops being a backdrop and starts being a collaborator. That's what happened at a little place called Copper City.
We took Dillon Optics' Corsair PM-01 out to the high desert with the homie Mike, a couple of Monsters in the cooler, and his mountain bike. Then we let the terrain do what it always does: set the tone. No canopy, no soft light to hide behind after golden hour splits for the day. Just shale, sagebrush, exposed ridgelines, and a wide open sky. It's honest ground, and honest ground makes for real product photography.
The idea
The trail doesn't care what you're wearing. But you do.
That was the thought behind the whole shoot. We didn't want the glasses to read as product placement, propped in frame and forgotten. We wanted them to feel like part of how someone survives a place like this and still looks like themselves doing it. Dust in the air, heat coming off the rock, and a pair of glasses that are actually built to be out there with you.
How we shot it
We committed to the light. Copper City doesn't do flattering midday, so we worked the golden window. Blue hour for the vibe check, then a chef’s kiss of a golden hour, and everything in between was chilling and stupid jokes. Mike rode the same lines more than once so I could see just how much he hates me, and so we could work both stills and motion, catching the Corsair PM-01 in real use: climbing, descending, catching his breath at the top of a ridge.
We shot on a mix of the Canon R5 and the Pentax 67, pairing the speed of digital with the texture and patience of medium format film. That combination is a bit of a Signal House signature at this point. The R5 gets us coverage and the moments that move fast. The Pentax slows everything down and gives us frames that feel like they've already been living somewhere for a while.
Why this one mattered
Dillon Optics came into the Signal House orbit the way a lot of our best relationships start, through conversation. Au naturel, baby. That's usually where we do our best work. Give us a product and a blank page and we'll build a brief around it, shoot it like we mean it, and hand back something that looks like it was made on purpose, because you know, it was.
Copper City is the result of that approach. It's product photography that doesn't feel like product photography. It's a Mike on a bike, in the kind of place that doesn't forgive bad gear or bad light, wearing something built for exactly that.
More from this shoot, and the ongoing work with Dillon Optics, is coming to the feed soon.