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When he saw the photographs, Tony Dekker felt the land calling out to him.

He always has -- getting out of an urban environment and connecting with the serenity of the natural world has always been the way the frontman for indie-folk outfit Great Lake Swimmers nurtures his inner muse. But something about pictures of the Thousand Islands area -- up the St. Lawrence River, halfway between Toronto and Montreal -- called out to him. An historic and picturesque area that's been declared a World Biosphere Region along the Canadian/American border, it would be ideal, Dekker knew, for his band to record a new album.

"I got in touch with Ian Coristine, an aerial photographer and something of a story collector in the region who had contacted the band and given us an open invitation to come to that area," Dekker told The Daily Times this week. "When it came time to put the album together, I called him and we brainstormed about areas that had unique acoustic properties there where we could record. I had been there briefly, but I didn't really know the extent of the place.

"Through Ian -- his work and his photographs -- I started realizing there was an entire world, mostly undiscovered even though it's fairly close to where we're based out of. I knew it would be an excellent backdrop for making this record."

Dekker has always favored out-of-the-way and unusual recording spots for the music his band makes, eschewing traditional studio methods for old churches, barns and grain silos. Such pastoral settings combine with the ethereal beauty of Dekker's voice -- a lilting croon that hovers somewhere between that of Mark Kozelek and Bonnie "Prince" Billy -- to give the band's albums a warmth, earthy feel that pleasant in the way fresh-turned earth feels beneath a gardener's fingers in the early days of spring.

Great Lake Swimmers began in 2001, an outgrowth of Dekker's childhood love of music. Ever since he first picked up the guitar, he's been writing songs, taking the maelstrom of swirling emotion that builds up in the human heart and putting it to song.

"I started writing songs that I was considering for Great Lake Swimmers after I finished (college)," Dekker said. "I got a bachelor's degree in literature, and I came out of that wanting to do something with writing. I moved to Toronto with the intention of becoming a writer, and I had been writing a lot of poetry at the time. I got a job with a film company, and I had been writing songs and playing them live, so it was a natural progression, with the encouragement of family and friends, to keep doing it."

With a revolving cast of bandmates, Dekker released a self-titled band LP in 2003, following it up with two other records that made waves among critics and peers alike. The band landed opening spots with Abigail Washburn and The Sparrow Quartet, Robert Plant and Feist; other media personalities, including "NBC Nightly News" anchor Brian Williams and Tour de France champion Lance Armstrong, have raved about Great Lake Swimmers on their respective blogs.

The key to the band's success, without a doubt, has been Dekker's vocal arrangements. Surrounded by instrumentation that's both sparse and dreamy, it's lifted up in a way that evokes the natural imagery he seeks as inspiration -- wind-driven ripples across a body of water; hawks circling high overhead on unseen thermals; rolling hills covered in snow in the still of winter.

Which is why, he said, the Thousand Islands area found its way onto the well-received "Lost Channels" album. It made it to No. 1 on the iTunes Singer/Songwriter chart; debuted at No. 10 on the Billboard Heatseekers chart and No. 1 on the Amazon.com MP3 downloads chart. It's a testament to the power and majesty of the album, which was infused with what he found when he traveled to Thousand Islands, he said.

"It was already about 75 to 80 percent written, but it was being changed right up until the last day of recording," he said. "Little things were being adjusted and phrases were being worked out. I think there was, especially toward the end of the record, sort of an inspiration of the region that wove its way into things.

"And really that's how I kind of find my inspiration -- getting into a quiet space in nature or in the woods or near a body of water. When I'm in those quiet moments, that's when everything starts to light up for me."