Rethinking Travel, Tourism and Photography
Solo photography trips are always good for reflection—but the things you discover are rarely the ones you expect when you set out. Traveling gives ideas space to emerge. You can’t force creative thinking. Since I was a teen, I always brought a notebook and pen on every vacation, as I know when I relax, the ideas will flow. On previous trips I’ve come up with business strategies, outlines for film projects, or blog ideas while sitting on a windy ridge waiting for the light to break. Your brain processes differently when you’re away from routines.
On a recent trip, what struck me most wasn’t a single location or a photograph—it was the stark contrast in popularity between places. One stop had a coach park, a visitor center, and crowds. The next? A single picnic bench and a fantastic view spalshed in golden light with no one else around.
On a recent trip, what struck me most wasn’t a single image I captured—it was how wildly the atmosphere could shift between stops. At one spot, I stood alone in golden light, the kind you dream about. The next day, expecting another quiet overlook, I arrived to find a shuttle bus, a café, and a full parking lot.
These kinds of swings make you reflect. Especially now, as I evolve not only as a photographer and filmmaker, but also as a photo tour guide. That adds a layer of complexity. People book tours to be taken to remarkable places. That’s part of the job—to scout and offer locations they wouldn’t have found themselves. That’s the value. But that creates a dilemma.
The places that are truly special are often fragile—or can become overrun fast. Social media has accelerated this. A shot goes viral, and within weeks a place that could once handle a few respectful visitors is trampled. It’s happened to wildflower meadows, bird colonies, remote mountain ridges. One shared pin. One trending reel. That’s all it takes.
As a guide, how do you balance that?
I’ve definitely held back locations from public sharing. Some places are just too sensitive—maybe it’s a rare species, a private landowner who barely tolerates our presence, or a viewpoint that simply can’t accommodate more than a few people at once. But withholding too much also erodes the magic for the people who put their trust in you to deliver something unforgettable.
Most photographers I know crave discovery. That moment where you turn a corner and find something unexpected. But they also chase iconic shots, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve done it too. Like visiting the Eiffel Tower but also hunting for a bakery with no tourists inside.
What I’m slowly learning is that part of my job now is to not just share locations—but to shape how we interact with them. Not just take people somewhere, but set the tone for how we move through a landscape. That’s harder. It requires presence and leadership, not just logistics.
And personally? I’m also rethinking how I travel. Not out of guilt—but out of curiosity. Why do some places hit me harder than others? Why do I remember a quiet forest pool more than a dramatic coastline shot? What do I actually want to feel when I press the shutter?
I don’t have the answers yet. But I know the questions matter. And I’ll keep asking them, both as an artist and as a guide.
Because in the end, it’s not just where you go—it’s how you show up.
And yes, I do shoot landscapes. I’ve just chosen not to share them publicly. I see myself as a wildlife photographer first (see earlier blog post, about not sharing everything you shoot)—and besides, my wife is the true landscape specialist in the family. I don’t want to compete with her… mostly because I’d lose. Any married man will understand exactly what I mean ☺️