There is a wide gulf between an amateur and professional photographer. Aside from the equipment, there’s also the factor of time. This was illustrated to me when we went on safari.

On safari: I wish I had a 300mm lens during this close encounter

At the Skukuza rest camp in Kruger Park (South Africa) while we were getting ready for a picnic with our ever-dependable Cooler, a mud-caked LandRover parked next to us. Three unshaven guys got down lugging their camera equipment: heavy tripods, compact battery-powered lamps, reflectors, humongous zooms, the whole works. The fourth member of the motley group cradled a Nikon DX3 with a supertelephoto 300mm lens still mounted to its own dedicated tripod. On his shoulders were two other backup cameras and I espied a Mamiya medium format in a separate case. 

The sun disappeared and it snowed all of a sudden.

My interest piqued, I timidly approached them looking a bit awkward with my Nikon D8 (with its puny 18-135mm) which, at that moment, looked like a throw-away point-and-shoot. I found out that they were Belgian and were on assignment shooting wildlife for a stock photography company. So how long have you guys been here, I asked. Three weeks – with two more to go, came the reply. They went out everyday with their own guide and tracker who set up their gear in areas where the animals were anticipated to be then hid in improvised hideouts. The cameras were attached with motion sensors that automatically fired when triggered by sudden movement. Or sometimes they used long release cables. Most of the time, they said, was spent waiting, waiting and waiting. Patience was a virtue, great-looking shots were the reward.

 

 

How could you shoot Alcatraz in this weather condition?

 

They showed me a couple of the previous day’s shoot and they were all stunning. One particular frame caught a fisheagle feeding its young inside a nest at the top of an acacia tree. I could clearly see the thin feathers that had sprouted out of the young bird’s head illuminated by the faint rays of the sun that filtered through the canopy. It couldn’t have been staged better. How they did it? Well, one of them built a temporary house (hide) covered with grass on the branches of the adjacent tree and waited for days just to get that shot. Wow!

 

Well, when traveling, you are forced to shoot whatever the situation is at hand. Lucky for you if the weather is always good with the sun shining brightly to give you a better-than-average lighting. But this isn’t always the case. What if it was overcast or worse, raining or snowing? I remember once driving up Pike’s Peak in Colorado with a gloriously blue sky when we started but then, suddenly, the weather changed so when we got to the top, a dense blanket of fog covered the place. Couldn’t see a damn thing! Not even the car 5 meters in front of me, what more of the view of the mountains. Years ago in Jungfraujoch up in the Bernese Alps, we arrived at the top of the highest train station in Europe only to find clouds covering the whole spread below. Soon, it started snowing. What to do now?  You may have the best gear and intentions but what about the time? Can you afford to wait for the weather to change for the better? Most likely not. So you take whatever’s available. Or you don’t.

 

 

When we got to the top of Pike's Peak, there was nothing to see!

 

I’ve had so many shots ruined by less fortuitious circumstances and so many of them just remain in my memory - they were the ones that got away. So when you see a lovely  postcard, don’t think you can have the same exact results with your own pictures. Remember that these were done by pros who painstakingly reconnoitered the place and staked the best angles in preparation for the best optimal weather conditions.

 

The consolation though that you get as an amateur photographer is that, well, you can say I was there and this is what I saw. It’s a slice of time spent at a certain place and it becomes quite a personal testament. Really.