A starting disclosure: I am including images of children in the below article. Most of them I obtained permission to photograph. Some of the images I photographed while on editorial assignment for clients. Other images were shot during the various travels that I have done through the years. 

The world around us seems in the midst of some culture war where conservatism and liberalism take no prisoners in their ridiculous affront against each other. One of the victims in this battlefront is the depiction of the youth of this world. Photographing children is now a threatened pursuit. To be able to photograph the youth in sport requires a string of documents including police clearances, and here in south Africa, proof that your name is not on a nationally held sex-offenders list. Woe betide the parent who wants to photograph their child on the side of the sport’s field lest they be accosted by other parents for photographing their children without explicit consent. 

Both sides have valid, logical arguments when it comes to photographing youth. It makes sense that one should get the permission from a guardian before an image is created. At the same time though, how does one photograph events where there are hundreds of youths taking part? Do you get a consent form from everyone present? What happens when one parent declines? Does that event then not get photographed? Unfortunately the approach that sees anyone with a camera as a sexual predator has had a profound effect on how photographers around the world approach the subject, and I think we have lost something as a result. 

In 1955 Edward Steichen’s ‘Family of Man’ exhibit opened in New York’s Museum of Modern Art. It represented 503 works by 273 photographers from around the world. The exhibition aimed to celebrate the fundamental sameness of human experiences across diverse cultures and peoples. It was broken into a themes that were linked chronologically through the human experience of life. The exhibit went on to be opened in several other major US based art museums, before continuing on with a world tour of thirty seven countries over six continents. The resultant book is still in print and has sold over four million copies. Importantly, the very second chapter in the book, and a major theme in the exhibit was childhood. 

I found myself thinking a lot about the exhibition while on a recent workshop in Madagascar. The Nature’s Light photography workshops to the island are very much travel photography workshops and photographing people is a strong component of any travel photography. As with all of our travel themed workshops, we started with a discussion on the ethics of photographing people during the workshop and in general. Naturally, the issues of photographing children is one of the many things that were discussed. 

I generally attempt to avoid photographing children during my travels now, although this wasn’t always the case. Not because I don’t want to, but because of the ethical complexities that swirl around in my head every time that I lift the camera to my eye. Yet, in all my travels it is the youth and children who come running up to me asking for a photograph. The cynical say that it is because they have learned that tourists gift them sweets or cash. In my experience though, I find it is usually that the inquisitiveness of youth is the primary driver behind the interaction. Time and again I have watched as children virtually mob a camera wielding traveler. Now, with the advent of digital photography, children insist on seeing their likeness on the back of the camera, and then break away in peels of laughter as they see themselves and their friends on the screen. This inquisitiveness is not something that is new to digital photography either.

In what seems like another lifetime now, I recall sitting in a family compound on the end of Namibia’s Caprivi Strip where I was starting my fieldwork for what would eventually become my dissertation in cultural anthropology. I was a curiosity to the children of the village who were peeking around the wooden doorway entrance to peer at the odd stranger who was sitting inside chatting to some of the adults that had brought me down from Katima Mulilo. Soon one of the younger kids pointed at the camera that was slung casually over my knee as I sat on a stool. He indicated he wanted me to take a photo. After that the children suddenly poured into the small compound, wanting to see through the viewfinder and hold the camera. This was in 2001. I didn’t own a digital camera for another five years, so there was little chance of the children seeing their faces (they did eventually when I brought back prints for their parents the following year). 

Fast forward a few years and Jackie (later to become my far more important half) and I were sitting on the wooden deck in front of a hut on the edge of the Yurimaguas River in Peru waiting for a river boat that was two days late. Our guide’s young daughters found us fascinating and would spend many hours ‘spying’ on us, going into fits of laughter if we spotted them. They also wanted to be photographed and would stand all serious as I lifted the camera and focused on them. 

I have countless examples of instances where I have been able to photograph youth and the simple joy of being young. Yet, I am nervous to show these photographs in case they are an affront to someone’s sensibilities. To me they are a depiction of the people I have met, a moment in time imaged as an artistic pursuit and a commentary on the world we experience, both as children and as adults looking in (and back towards our own youth). 

That’s the point of the Family of Man exhibit. Would this same exhibit still be held in today’s ultra sensitive environment? Would Steichen have had to get permission from each and every parent or guardian of the children depicted (basically impossible). What have we lost by building a wall of sensibility. 

To be sure, and as Susan Sontag has rightly pointed out in here book, On Photography, the act of capturing an image of someone is indeed predatory in a way. It can never not be. What we can try and do is make it less aggressive, less predatory by making it more inclusive with the person being photographed. Some children practically demand this now, yanking on the neck-straps of the camera to be able to see the image. Add to this the complexity of photographing the other - something that many photographic travels aim to do - and the extractive politics of the camera when gazed through by a tourist, who is no doubt wealthier than the person being photographed, and you can see that the arguments against photographing children are indeed strong. 

So who should be allowed to photograph the youth? Do they have to be professional - meaning accredited - photographers before they should be allowed to point the camera towards anyone below the age of adulthood in whatever society we happen to find ourselves in? Do we resolutely refrain from photographing anyone who looks like a child when we travel? 

I’m going to take this thought a darker step forward. The argument that children shouldn’t be photographed has also been used occasionally against journalists; that children should be left out of the news. With this in mind would these graphically harrowing images have ever been shot (should they have):

Nick Ute’s photograph, Napalm Girl, of Kim Phuc, 
Sam Nzima’s image of Hector Peterson during the Soweto riots, 
Steve McCurry’s iconic image of 12 year old Sharmat Gula
Nilüfer Demir’s photograph of the lifeless form of Alan Kurdi
Kevin Carter’s haunting image of the starving Sudanese child

It is images of children that have galvanised the watching public into action more than any others when advocacy is needed. Their likeness’ have done more to further calls for peace, humanity, help than any other, because they are children. 

I don’t have the answers here unfortunately. This is a piece meant to prod at our own sensibilities and get the photographer thinking about why we are taking the photograph in the first place. Some of the most renowned and respected photographers in the world have photographed and published images of unknown children. Many of them have received incomes through those images, albeit usually indirect. What I do feel though is that as we clamp down further on what we can or should be photographing, is the realisation that the photographic image is still powerful in story-telling guise. What do we lose if we stop pointing our cameras at one of the most fundamental experiences of human life; childhood?


As I mention above, I don’t have answers. The camera is extraordinarily ambivalent in it’s nature, with the intent of the image strongly linked to the motivations behind the photographer. As a general guideline then, these are questions that I pose to myself before I try to capture an image, 

1. Do No Harm!
2. What am I trying to depict?
3. What is the purpose of the photograph?

After spending the last few months running back-to-back photographic workshops through Namibia, the Richtersveld, and the Drakensberg, one question keeps coming up from photographers joining my trips:
"What exactly should I pack for Namibia?"
Rather than answering the same email repeatedly, I thought it would make sense to turn the advice into a practical guide that photographers can return to before heading into the desert.

Namibia is one of the most rewarding photographic destinations in the world, but it is also a country of extremes. You may find yourself photographing towering dunes in scorching midday heat, pelicans along the icy Atlantic coastline, or wildlife at sunrise in surprisingly cold conditions.

Packing properly makes a huge difference — not only to your comfort, but also to your ability to work efficiently as a photographer.

Start With the Right Bag

One of the biggest mistakes photographers make when traveling to Namibia is overpacking.

Most regional airlines in Southern Africa, including local carriers servicing Namibia, often limit checked luggage to around 20kg unless you pay for additional baggage. With camera gear already taking up a large portion of your weight allowance, choosing the right luggage becomes important.

I personally prefer using a durable rolling semi-soft case that can handle rough conditions. Large wheels are incredibly useful in Namibia because you will inevitably drag your luggage across gravel, sand, dirt parking areas, and uneven lodge paths.

A slightly smaller bag is often better than a massive suitcase because it forces you to pack more intentionally.

If your bag has room for everything imaginable, chances are you’ll fill it.

Packing Cubes Are a Game Changer

For a two-week workshop, packing cubes make life dramatically easier.

Instead of digging through a chaotic suitcase every morning, you can organize clothing into categories:

• Shirts
  
• Trousers
  
• Cold weather layers
  
• Undergarments
  
• Laundry
  
• Accessories
  

This makes it possible to live out of your bag efficiently while moving between locations.

On photographic workshops, we often relocate multiple times during the trip, so being able to repack quickly is surprisingly valuable.

Clothing for Namibia: Think Neutral and Practical

Namibia is not the place for bright fashion colors.

If you are photographing wildlife in areas like Etosha, Ongava, or Onguma, neutral tones work best. Think; Khaki, Olive, Grey, Sand colors and Muted browns.

Long-sleeved shirts are highly recommended. They provide protection from the sun while remaining cool if you choose lightweight breathable fabrics.

Quick-dry clothing is especially useful because many lodges allow you to wash smaller items overnight.

Avoid Dark Blue and Black in the North

If your journey takes you toward the Caprivi Strip or into neighboring regions such as Zambia or Angola, avoid dark blue and black clothing where possible as Tsetse flies are known to be attracted to darker colors, particularly blue.

Neutral-colored clothing is both more comfortable and more practical.

Namibia Can Be Surprisingly Cold

Many visitors imagine Namibia as permanently hot.

That’s only partially true.

Along the Atlantic coastline — especially around Swakopmund and Lüderitz — temperatures can become extremely cold due to the Benguela Current and strong coastal winds.

Even in summer, early mornings and evenings can feel icy.

Always pack:

• A fleece or insulating mid-layer
  
• A lightweight puffer jacket
  
• A windbreaker or rain jacket
  

The rain jacket is more useful than many people expect.

Not only can Namibia experience unexpected desert rain showers during certain months, but a shell jacket is also excellent protection against cold sea winds during boat cruises or coastal shoots.

Your Camera Cleaning Kit Is Essential

Dust is part of photographing Namibia. From the dunes of Sossusvlei to gravel roads stretching for hundreds of kilometers, your camera gear will encounter dust constantly. Unlike shooting in a city environment, you cannot simply walk into a camera store when your sensor gets dirty.

Bring a dedicated cleaning kit that includes:

• Sensor cleaning tools
  
• Microfiber cloths
  
• Air blower
  
• Lens cleaning solution
  
• Small brushes
  

One surprisingly useful item is a soft nylon paintbrush. It works brilliantly for removing sand from tripod locks, camera crevices (NOT the sensor), and ball heads. Namibian desert sand has an uncanny ability to get into absolutely everything.

Bring a Basic Repair Kit

A small repair pouch can save an entire workshop, and a quick field repair can save a trip in many ways. I always travel with:

• A multi-tool or Leatherman
  
• Small screwdrivers
  
• Spare Allen keys
  
• Super glue
  
• Gaffer tape or duct tape
  

It sounds excessive until something breaks hundreds of kilometers from the nearest town. Simple fixes in the field can mean the difference between continuing to shoot and losing several days of photography.

Power Adapters for Namibia

One thing international travelers often overlook is Namibia’s plug system. Most Southern African countries use the large round Type M plug, although many hotels and lodges now also offer European-style Type C plugs.

I'd absolutely recommend a multi-plug. Fortunately, Europlug to M type adapters are inexpensive and easy to find locally if necessary.

You’ll likely be charging:

• Camera batteries
  
• Drone batteries
  
• Phones
  
• Laptops
  
• Power banks
  

So bring enough charging capacity for all your equipment.

Organize Your Cables Properly

Cable chaos becomes frustrating very quickly while traveling. A dedicated cable organizer helps keep everything accessible and prevents unnecessary stress.

I carry:

• USB-C cables
  
• Charging bricks
  
• Card readers
  
• External drive cables
  
• Phone charging cables
  
• International adapters
  

Photographers increasingly travel with a surprising number of electronic accessories, and Namibia is not the ideal place to discover you forgot an important cable.

Don’t Forget a Small First Aid Kit

Even if you are traveling with an organized photographic group, it’s still important to carry your own personal medications and a few basics. This is particulalrly as legally guides and instructors are not really allowed to administer medication, even over-the-counter type stuff. Make sure you have your own supply of some basic medications:

• Pain medication
  
• Anti-diarrheal medication
  
• Allergy medication
  
• Plasters/bandages
  
• Antiseptic wipes
  
• Electrolyte sachets
  
• Any prescription medication you require
  
• Anti-malarial medication if you are traveling to the far north of Namibia
  

Long drives, changing diets, dry climates, and remote locations make a small medical kit worthwhile.

 The Photographic Stuff

• A digital SLR camera, The Natures Light instructors all shoot Full-Frame cameras, but any interchangeable lens camera will work perfectly on the workshop including, crop-sensor DSLRs, the new breed of mirrorless cameras and Micro Four Thirds cameras will also work perfectly well. We don’t recommend using compact cameras because of their serious limitations or the 1” sensor cameras which don’t have the same tolerances for landscape photography that M4/3s and larger sensor cameras have. 
  
• A good quality tripod, preferably one not made of plastic. 
• A wide angle lens - usually around 16-35mm (f2.8 is preferable as it makes astrophotography easier)
• A telephoto zoom lens, such as a 70-200 or 70-300.
  
•  camera remote (cable release) or intervalometer if this is not built into the camera.
• For anyone serious about getting into landscape photography, a filter set consisting out of graduated Neutral Density filters and a polarizer, is indispensable. 
• A laptop with editing software already loaded. 
  
• Memory cards! (it is possible to forget these). 
• A backup hard-drive for backing up images (it would terrible to travel to Namibia only to lose all the images if a laptop hard-drive crashes).
  

 

Final Thoughts

Packing for a Namibian photographic workshop is really about balancing practicality, comfort, and efficiency.

You do not need enormous amounts of clothing or endless gadgets.

What matters most is bringing reliable essentials that allow you to focus on photography rather than logistics.

Namibia rewards photographers in extraordinary ways:

• Vast desert landscapes
  
• Incredible night skies
  
• Wildlife encounters
  
• Ancient trees and textures
  
• Endless creative opportunities
  

The better prepared you are, the more fully you can immerse yourself in the experience.

If you are planning to join one of my upcoming photographic workshops in Namibia, I hope this guide gives you a useful starting point for your packing preparations.

Safe travels — and don’t forget to leave a little extra room in your bag for dust, adventure, and thousands of photographs.

Life gets busy. As a photographer I am constantly chasing the elusive buck, hustling from gig to gig. No sooner than you have signed off a project, than you are either actively seeking out a new project, or have already been thrown deep end into a new one. This is a constant state of existence for anyone living in today’s ‘gig’ culture. I’m not even going to get started on the nightmare that is image management in this kind of atmosphere of constant hustle, but I am going to discuss how we fly by images and forget about them, before they should be forgotten.  

In particular, while wearing my landscape photographer and tour leader hat, I have the habit of working through only the initial few images from a workshop or trip, leaving hundreds, if not thousands of images to languish in the hard drive, RAW, unseen and unloved. I rush back to the studio and am caught up in the hurly burly of ‘normal’ work where I have to produce imagery for clients. As a result my images, the ones I care about, get forgotten; buried in the day to day of paying the bills. I absolutely love the Scottish saying (at least I think it’s Scottish - something I read in an academic paper years ago arguing that long-term environmental concerns are second to the more immediate concerns of the stomach); ‘You can’t eat a landscape’ (probably more like, ‘Ya canna eat ah lahndscape’. Thus my landscapes get forgotten, put aside to make headspace for bolts, buildings, cars and businesspeople. 

My hard-drives grow fat on the unworked RAWs from multiple places around the world that I truly am blessed and extraordinarily privileged to be able to visit. The piece here is twofold in that this building inventory of unseen images is both a curse and a phenomenal blessing. The curse part is fairly obvious. It’s been intimated in the words above, that the hard drives grow incessantly, but seldom get to share their images. The blessing is that we get to go back into these images, often with a better understanding of the tools at our fingertips. 

I have read before from other photographers that they never go back to an image that they have shot. Once they have finished the image, they move on. There is merit to this, and it’s something that I have said of my own images too. Who has time to go back on images that they have already worked on? It would seem that apparently Ansel Adams had the time. He continued to refine and adapt some of his most iconic images (such as ‘Moonrise, Hernandez’ and ‘Moon and Half Dome’) through several iterations over the years. Although it wasn’t my intention I ended up reworking an image that I have had some success with for a YouTube video on converting images to Black and White in Capture One. The end result I believe was better than the original image which was a finalist in the International Landscape Photography Awards (2015) as well as being featured in Nikon magazine. Ten years of software development plus an additional ten years of experience lent themselves towards improving the photograph somewhat. 

This is not to say that we should all dive into our libraries and find images that to rework. I actually think that wouldn’t be such an intelligent use of time. I mention it here as an example of being able to go back and improve images, but that isn’t the real advantage of a fit to bursting hard drive of unseen images. No, it’s the unworked images that are valuable. Images that I glossed over at the time, or felt that I didn’t have the time to be able to do them justice. In some cases images that were too difficult to work are now simplicity itself with improved software. 

Below is a two image stitch that I shot in 2016 during a landscape workshop in Namibia. I stumbled across it the other day when looking for a different image. On seeing it I recognised it as being an image that I had briefly tried to process, been unsuccessful and moved on. This time round the software had no problems in stitching the images together. Where there were small niggles, my experience was now able to fix that which I previously had no idea how to fix. Suddenly an image which I had given up on almost ten years ago, had enough merit to not only process, but also to use in a project I was working on. 

There is also something to be said for looking at images with fresh eyes. Going back ten years, or more, is maybe a stretch, but it is interesting how many more worthwhile images I am able to find in catalogues where I could have sworn I had already mined out all the worthwhile imagery. Possibly no longer being as close to the moment of capturing the image helps. We have a tendency to think of the moment of pressing the shutter with a heightened sense of anticipation. When the memory is fresh, the disappointment that it isn’t quite what we hoped for, is somewhat more tangible. Soften that with a few years and suddenly those images, although not quite perfect, look darn good after all. 
Some of the earliest advice I was given when I shifted from film to digital was that it was a good idea to wait a few days, if not weeks, before starting to process images from a shoot. This was when photographers were still heady with the idea that one could capture an image, process and deliver  it in literally minutes. It still isn’t surprising to see participants on workshops capture an image in the morning and have it processed and up on the ‘socials’ shortly after returning for breakfast. Sadly we have become programmed by the incessant need to produce, produce, produce that we don’t really stop to think about the photographs and what we want to do with them anymore. The slowdown period of waiting for the film to come back from the labs is simply not there. So, we grab the most obvious image in the folder, spit it out into the wide world and forget about the other potential treasures in the day’s library of images. That advice given some 20 years ago is probably more valuable now than it’s ever been. Give some time to cool between the shoot and the cull, and you’re likely to be both more forgiving on yourself as well as more discerning in what you select and work on. 

When enough time passes we are also able to look at our older images with eyes that have matured artistically. Images that we were excited by two, five or even ten years ago, might have been exciting at the time based on what we interested in, who we were inspired by, and the trends that were current at the time (think back to 2010 when surreal HDR was the ‘in-thing’). Photos that you may have glossed over then could suddenly hold a lot more promise now. 

Finally, one of the most important aspects of activating your ‘way-back’when’ machine of an archive, is the memory of the shoot itself. This is a far more personal, introspective use of looking at your old unedited images. I find that by doing this I am able to get new ideas for locations that I am likely to be visiting again. I’ll see photographs that didn’t quite work, but have merit in trying again, either compositionally or technically. And, of course, there is the nostalgia of the event itself, whether it was for a professional commercial project, or for a personal artistic goal. Nostalgia and memory are the core reasons why generative AI cannot fully replace photography. Photography is still rooted in the real (even if that foundation is tenuously manipulated through excessive photo-editing and re-imagining). A photograph, no matter how much photoshop is used, still requires that the photographer have been somewhere at some time to record that image. That memory of the moment cannot be replaced. 

I had a photography student explain to me a few days ago that she always goes through her photos and deletes all but the very best ones. It’s a great way to save hard-drive space, but I would urge that we be slightly less aggressive in the culling process. Certainly out of focus or truly horrendously poorly exposed images should be turfed. Don’t go so far as to only keep what you consider to be the cream of the crop though. Wait a few years and quite possibly what you think are great now, might only be a small portion of a much larger batch of equally impressive image. You just need some time to recognise it. 

I was recently asked to judge a small international photographic competition, of which landscape photography was a genre. Readers will no doubt assume that I am about to go off on a tirade against the plethora of overworked and essentially false impressions of places and spaces - the spirit that I understand led to the creation of the Natural Landscape Photography Awards. To an extent they would be correct. There were indeed a number of images that were simply ‘overcooked’; not just a step into the valley of the uncanny, but a wholehearted plunge beyond reality. There are of course a range of arguments allowing for the ‘anything goes’ approach, such that photographers can stretch mountains, bend trees, and create kaleidoscopic skies since that is what they ‘felt’ they were looking at. I’ve been guilty of saying much the same in the editing process; that one should edit the image to the way that it ‘looked’ and felt to you when you were shooting the scene in the first place. 

It wasn’t the overcooked nature of the images that disappointed me though. It was the sense of authentically standing in the landscape that seemed to be missing. Something seems to have happened in landscape photography where the technical prowess of editing has removed the need to be there at the right moment. Photography has always been, from its very inception, about capturing the moment. Landscape photography is no different, except that the ‘moment’ might be somewhat longer than a 1/500th of a second. 

This struck me again while discussing another photographer’s submission of images for her panel to a Photographic Society. A criticism that had been given against her panel was that a number of the images were ‘matter of fact’. Not withstanding the fact that the American photographer Stephen Shore would likely have been thrilled with such a criticism, her response to me was that her images were matter-of-fact, because she doesn’t want them to be fake! 

Wildlife photography avoids some of the pitfalls of landscape in that the technical difficulty of capturing the moment can sometimes override the aesthetic. This isn’t to say that wildlife images don’t have to be aesthetically pleasing to the eye; of course they do. Rather it means that the decisive moment, because it is so fleeting, makes the viewer more forgiving of other aspects to the image, composition, mood, colour, etc. ‘Matter of fact’ is fine, at least when it comes to the edit, because the moment is all important. With landscape photography it has become expected by the viewer that the ‘drama’ has to be added in the edit. This is somewhat back to front in my opinion. Surely the drama should be there before you even click the shutter. The moment that you are capturing just happens to be somewhat more prolonged than a slice of time measured in nanoseconds. 

The essence of landscape photography is not in the edit. I suspect that the essence is found more in finding the scene itself. I’m not suggesting that there has to be hardship or difficulty involved in finding and photographing the scene (although photographers, myself often included, seem to enjoy the ‘story behind the image’), but for a landscape image to be special it needs to convincingly depict the scene such that the viewer not only feels like they could be there, but that they have the same emotive feeling of being there as the photographer had. None of this easy of course, and I can’t even pretend that I’m successful in this in more than a handful of my own images. But, that is the goal at the very least.

How can we do this? For a start explore a little more away from the general footpaths and scenes that everyone else is photographing. A glance through last year’s Natural Landscape Photography Awards shows that the best images don’t have to be taken in the most bucket-list iconic landscapes. Sure, it helps, but the majority of the images that did well in the competition don’t necessarily show off oft-photographed scenes. If they do, a happy serendipity of weather and light show off the scene in an astounding way. So try new locations with fresh eyes, or even old locations but again with fresh eyes. 

Secondly, get out of bed early. The best light is not in the middle of the day. This is of a course a well-trodden truism. Yet, it remains the principle factor holding back photographers’ landscape images. You need to get up and be in place for the light before it happens. If that means traveling, or walking to a location, it means getting up early enough to be there when the light hits (and yes, twilight and dawn light are usually the most dramatic lighting times of the day). The same can be said of the weather. Ansel Adam’s ‘Clearing Storm’ would not be the iconic image of Yosemite if he had captured the image hours after the storm. It is dramatic because it is captured minutes after the storm. This means he was in place during the storm. 

I often joke with photographers on some of the workshops that we lead, that if you are cold, wet and miserable, and probably wishing you were anywhere but where you happen to be standing right now, then chances are you are in exactly the right spot for an awesome image. Of course it doesn’t have to be as dramatic as this. It’s more illustrating the point that bad weather often leads to awesome light, but you have to weather the storm first. 

The third way to get better landscape images beyond the edit - or perhaps I should say before the edit - is to use your imagination. Pre-visualisation; the act of imagining an image before you shoot it, is extraordinarily important for creating great landscape imagery. Seeing a scene and recognising its potential in different light or weather is critical to creating amazing photographs. Use apps like Photo Pills (I personally use The Photographers Ephemeris), Windy and Mountain-Forecast to work out where the sun is going to be, what the weather is likely to do, and then return again and again to capture the image that you imagined. 

Landscape photography isn’t easy. If it were we’d all be able to create award winning images simply by arriving and pointing the camera in the right direction. Except there isn’t a single genre of photography that works like that. Landscape photography is something that requires more than an understanding of the camera. It requires at least a passing knowledge of weather, a love of the outdoors and a masochistic propensity for early mornings. That’s why it is difficult. It’s also why it’s so much fun! 

There’s a particular moment in Fes when the medina exhales—when the last threads of morning chill pull back and the day’s rhythm begins to sharpen. The mullah’s calls have dwindled and the sounds of the streets filter above the ancient stone walls. It’s in these quiet, golden moments that the city reveals itself to the patient photographer. Fes is a labyrinth of centuries-old craftsmanship, intricate geometric design, and spirited street life, and wandering its lanes with a camera in hand feels like stepping through a living tapestry.

After a typical breakfast consisting of msemen (a folded fried bread) with a range of spreads and boiled eggs, we met our knowledgeable guide and headed from our Riad through the winding alleys of the upper Medina to the exquisitely tiled  Bab Boujloud - the Blue Gate. As with many of the attractions of this ancient city, there were already several tourists milling about the gate. Not that the gate is ever quiet, as there is a constant pulsating hum of pedestrians moving through it’s arch and into the shadowed alley beyond. 

From the gate, the veins of the medina lead you into tanneries, artisan workshops, and spice-filled markets. First though, we strolled along edge of the Medina Wall, where the strong of spices, fresh meat and coffee drifted over the bobbing heads of hundreds of people s they moved slowly past the wares. From there we seemed to descend through tight corridors, past innumerable stout doors, studded in brass, and though winding alleys with the patina of centuries in the brickwork and mortar.

Fes dances with colour, but those tones are at their richest during early morning and late afternoon. It was for this reason that we had braved the cold early morning air to capture the city at dawn before the bustle. Now as we wended our way through the labyrinthine pathways of the Medina, we could almost imagine ourselves as seen from the panoramic view we had had earlier. Moving through the city, living in it even, it’s entirely possible to imagine never really seeing the sky as your view of it is constantly governed by the tall walls of the alleys and tightly knit buildings. 

So it’s with surprise that you pop out over the quintessential attraction of this old city, the Chouara Tannery. Situated deep in the bowl of the city, the tannery has long been made famous by countless visitors and their photographs. Despite having seen the these views from the likes of National Geographic and even Conde Naste, the scene is absorbing as you first step to the edge of a veranda to look down on the tubs and the bright colours. Workers move rapidly back and forth throwing skins into the lime to bleach, thence on to different basins for colour and fixing. Over all of this is an overpowering smell, typical of any tannery, but an affront to the sensibilities of some tourists. Punters in the pedestrian street hand out sprigs of mint to ward away the smell. It doesn’t take long though before you have grown accustomed to the ripe odour. 

From the tannery to a carpet trader, to the Al-Attarine Madrasa, an Islamic school built in the 14th Century by the Marinid sultan Uthman II Abu Said. The intricate plasterwork and mosaics adorn every inch of the old building. Cedarwood rafters hold up the incredible heavy tiled roof. It’s from the this rooftop that we finally look out and see more than a letterbox of sky above. It’s a moment of quiet before stepping out into the flow of humanity pulsing through the veins of the Medina once more, now to start on the walk back up to the top of the Medina. 

There’s more of course to Fes, than the medina. Our multiple days in the city meant for visiting the mosaic school, the Jewish quarter and cemetary, the old forts. The Medina with it’s storied past and layers of history is hte photographic drawcard though. The medina can feel like a maze, especially when you’re focused on your next shot. Although their is the sense of pace, we actually move quite move slowly and respectfully through the throngs. 


Some simple rules help immensely when navigating through the the lanes with a camera in hand: greet shopkeepers, ask before photographing people, and step aside when the inevitable donkey carrying goods barrels past. This is a country where the tourist gaze is endured, sometimes jovially, other times not so much. Approaching with humility and respect goes a long way to crossing cultures. 

Keep your gear simple—one camera, one versatile lens. This not only lightens your load but frees you to immerse yourself in the swirling movement around you. And remember, some of the best frames come from observing the flow of life rather than chasing it.

Fes isn’t just a place to photograph—it’s a place to feel. Its layers of history, artisanship, and humanity invite you to look deeper, linger longer, and appreciate the small, unscripted moments. Whether you're a seasoned photographer or just beginning, the streets of Fes offer endless stories waiting to be captured.
Pack your camera, embrace the maze, and let the city unfold before your lens.

The Laowa D-Dreamer 10mm f/2.8 is an extraordinary piece of glass. It’s not just another wide-angle lens — it’s ultra-wide, rectilinear, and capable of producing images with impressive sharpness and minimal distortion. Designed for photographers who thrive on creative extremes, this lens offers a truly unique perspective that few others can match.

Overview

The 10mm D-Dreamer from Laowa (Venus Optics) is an ultra-wide rectilinear lens available in both manual focus and autofocus versions. Despite its extreme field of view — a staggering 130.4° — straight lines stay almost perfectly straight, provided the lens is kept level with the subject. For architectural photographers or anyone who loves shooting wide landscapes, that’s a rare and valuable trait as most wide angle lenses exhibit strong strong distortion. 

From the center through to the edges, the lens displays impressive sharpness and very low to effectively non-existent chromatic aberration. Both axial and lateral fringing are impressively well-controlled — even in high-contrast edges or backlit conditions. This optical performance, paired with solid build quality and practical usability, makes the D-Dreamer stand out. It isn’t exactly a crowded space in terms of available lenses with this wide a field-of-view, but of those that do exist, the Laowa certainly stands out. 

Build and Handling

Physically, the 10mm D-Dreamer is built like a tank. With its all-metal construction, weather-sealing gaskets, and precisely machined components, it exudes toughness. It feels like a lens that could take a knock — or even a fall — and come away undamaged.

The manual focus version (the one I tested) has a smooth, roughly 90° focus throw. This is maybe a little too short a throw for fine precision, and focusing through the viewfinder can be tricky — depth of field at 10mm and f/2.8 is deceptively deep, but not infinite. Using the rear LCD for focus magnification helps nail critical focus, particularly for close subjects.

The autofocus variant, by contrast, offers extremely fast and accurate AF, though it lacks the distance markings found on the manual version. It’s also worth noting that the manual version features a 14-blade aperture, while the AF version uses just five blades, producing distinctly shaped starburst effect on specular highlights (more on that later).

The lens is available for Canon RF, Nikon Z, Sony E, and L-Mount, covering most modern mirrorless systems.

Filter Compatibility: A Big Deal

One of the standout features of this lens — and truly remarkable for something this wide — is its 77mm front filter thread.

That means standard filters can be used without bulky adapters or rear gels. In fact, I was able to mount two stacked filters using the Nisi JetMag system (the smaller 82mm version), as well as the JetMag 100mm adapter which allows the use of 100mm graduated filters, without any vignetting. For landscape photographers, that’s a head-turner. Being able to use filters on a 10mm lens is almost unheard of. 

Optical Performance

Optically, the D-Dreamer impresses on nearly every front:

• Sharpness: Very impressive sharpness across the frame, even wide open. Stopping down to f/5.6 or f/8 yields corner-to-corner crispness that rivals prime lenses of much narrower focal lengths.
  
• Chromatic Aberration: Virtually non-existent. Both longitudinal and lateral CA are extremely well controlled — colour fringing and ghosting are minimal (if you push the lens you’ll get some flare, but it is remarkably well-controlled for this focal length) even in backlit conditions. 
• Distortion: As a rectilinear lens, straight lines remain straight — provided you don’t tilt the camera up or down. It’s a huge advantage for architecture and interior photography. Laowa are careful not to say perfectly straight in their marketing. There is indeed a very small, amount of barrel distortion, but you have to look for it to see it. So essentially, it’s effectively distortion free for the most part. 
• Colour Rendition: Clean, neutral colour with no noticeable cast or tint.
• Flare Resistance: Excellent, though strong point light sources can produce some mild streaking or ghosting at wide apertures as well as a kind of rainbow flare on the opposite side to the light source. 

At 10mm, perspective distortion is a creative tool. Foregrounds can appear exaggerated and distant objects compressed, but Laowa’s optical correction ensures the results still look natural — not “fisheye.” Used well, it gives your images a dynamic, immersive depth.

Starbursts and Aperture Effects

The aperture design gives distinct differences between versions:
The manual focus lens with its 14 blades produces a soft, controlled starburst effect. Ideal for photographers who prefer a natural, subdued rendering of point light sources.

The autofocus lens with five blades creates a pronounced 10-point starburst, more defined and graphic — perfect for night cityscapes or dramatic sunbursts. The photographers used for Laowa’s marketing have styles that use this enhanced starburst effectively…it’s very much a contemporary look. 

Astrophotography Performance

For astro shooters, the results are mixed but predictable for such a wide rectilinear design.

The good news: the lens is sharp in the center and renders star fields beautifully across most of the frame.

The downside: in the extreme corners at f/2.8, you’ll notice batwing-shaped coma or mild astigmatism, giving stars a stretched, comet-like appearance. Stopping down to f/4 helps, but doesn’t completely eliminate it. Of course this also means you lose the f2.8, something that’s pretty much essential for astro-photography. 

If pinpoint-perfect stars are your goal, this isn’t the cleanest option — but if you’re chasing massive, sweeping night-sky compositions, the D-Dreamer’s field of view is unmatched.

Creative Possibilities

This lens excels in architectural, interior, and landscape photography — but its use extends far beyond. It’s perfect for situations where you need to show both the context and the subject within a single, immersive frame.

Think of:

• The interior of a cathedral or theatre stage.
• A sports huddle or stadium environment.
• Dramatic close-up foregrounds in nature photography.
• Ultra-wide vlog or handheld shots with environmental context.

It even performs well as a vlogging lens — held at arm’s length, you’ll capture yourself and a vast sweep of background without distortion or awkward proportions (just mind the perspective stretching on your limbs!).

Price and Value

The Laowa D-Dreamer 10mm f/2.8 sits at an impressively reasonable price point for its build and performance. It sells for R18,599 or US$939. Currently it’s on a Black Friday special in South Africa for R16,499 (as of November 2025) at the Laowa South Africa website. Like many of Laowa’s lenses, it occupies that “specialist” niche: not for everyone, but perfect for photographers who know exactly what they need, and know that they want this kind of wide-angle view. 

Venus Optics has made a name producing unconventional, optically ambitious lenses — from macro probes to ultra-wide primes — and this 10mm fits that mould perfectly. It’s small, tough, and optically refined, with just enough quirks to make it charming.

Final Thoughts

The Laowa D-Dreamer 10mm f/2.8 is a definitely a specialist tool — but a brilliant one. It’s ultra-wide without being distorted, sharp without being clinical, and practical enough to use in real-world shooting.
Pros:

• Outstanding sharpness across the frame
  
• Minimal distortion and aberration
• Weather-sealed, all-metal construction
• 77mm front filter thread (usable with stacked filters!)
• Compact and solid build

Cons:

• Coma in extreme corners at f/2.8
  
• Manual focus can be challenging
• Some stretching at frame edges (inevitable at this width)

If you’re a landscape or architectural photographer searching for extreme width with fantastic image quality, this lens is an absolute gem. It’s not perfect — but it’s uniquely capable, and there’s simply nothing else like it on the market.

Verdict: A tough, ultra-wide performer that delivers sharpness, clean colour, and a creative perspective few lenses can match. The Laowa 10mm f/2.8 D-Dreamer proves that even in the extreme end of optics, precision and practicality can coexist beautifully.

I’ve just returned from an incredible week-long photographic workshop on the island of Madeira — an extraordinary island off the coast of Portugal in the Atlantic Ocean. Despite its small size the island is host to a phenomenally diverse range of landscape locations. Our small group based ourselves in the quiet coastal town of São Vicente on the northern coastline, an ideal central location that allowed us to reach almost every corner of the island with no more than an hour and a half’s drive. In Madeira, this kind of accessibility is essential — not only because of the diverse range of landscapes on offer, but because the island’s weather changes at a moment’s notice. We spent a fair amount of time learning to interpret the plethora a weather apps, web cams and local advice as to where to go for the best photographic conditions. Needless to say, flexibility and spontaneity are the photographer’s most valuable tools here.

During our week, we explored and photographed many of Madeira’s iconic locations: Seixal, Ilhéus da Ribeira da Janela, Pico do Arieiro, Pico Ruivo, Bica da Cana, Fanal Forest, and the windswept peninsula of Ponta de São Lourenço. Stepping up to a well-used Miradouro (viewpoint) at the last of these locations just left me mesmerised at the grandness of the vista ahead of us. Sharp sea stacks, glowing orange in the late afternoon light, massive cliffs overhanging the cobalt blue waters of the Atlantic and the grand sweep of the peninsula looking like something out of a fantasy novel. Then there is the magical Fanal Forest. When shrouded in mist these ancient laurel trees emerge in anthropomorphic shapes from the murk, like giant ents standing stoically in the mist. And then the mountains! Despite being on a small island, Pico Ruivo stands at 1862 metres above sea-level! Each vista, each scene we visited presented a unique mood and light, shaped by the island’s ever-shifting clouds and the Atlantic weather fronts. If it’s bucketing rain in one valley, you can find sunshine in the next. Despite thick cloud across the island our last evening photographing the Milky Way at Fanal Forest as we were able to ascend above the cloud inversion.

The island’s mountainous spine, with its razor-sharp peaks and plunging valleys, offered endless compositions and an incredible sense of scale. Getting there was half the adventure — Madeira’s network of tunnels and winding roads are an engineering marvel, carving through cliffs and beneath mountains to connect the island’s most dramatic locations. Only completed in 2004 this network of tunnels is what makes traversing the island so quickly possible. Prior to this, roads were not only dangerous, but incredibly slow to navigate. 

Of course, even the best-laid plans must bow to nature. The same weather that brings such drama and light to Madeira also caused my EasyJet flight to be delayed by 24 hours — a reminder that patience and adaptability are essential virtues for any photographer working in such dynamic environments. 

Madeira rewards those who wait, watch, and return — and this workshop proved just that. From coastal cliffs to misty forests, from sunrise peaks to stormy seas, it was a week that captured the essence of why we photograph: to chase light, to embrace unpredictability, and to find beauty in every moment. Nature’s light will be returning to Madeira in the autumn (October) of 2027. If you are keen to join us, pop an email through to be added to the pre-workshop list. 

If you’re a photographer, graphic designer or creative professional tired of subscription-models, the recent upgrade of the Affinity suite is not just big news; it’s potentially game-changing. How to get off the Adobe subscription train and onto a more affordable editing platform and workflow is one of the most common questions I get on photographic workshops.

As a result I have long been on the lookout for tools that don’t burden you with monthly fees but still give you serious editing ability. Now, Affinity has taken a bold step — combining its photo editing, vector design and layout-publishing tools into one unified app - just called Affinity - and making it free for everyone.

What's Changed 

For several now years, the Affinity brand has stood as a solid alternative to the big subscription software: Affinity Photo for image-editing, Affinity Designer for vector work, Affinity Publisher for layout. In March 2024 Canva bought Serif, the company responsible for Affinity and its suite of products. A fair amount of conjecture and theorizing could be found on the internet fora over the next dozen months. Come October 2025 and Affinity (now under the umbrella of Canva) announced the new version: one app that covers raster, vector and layout. 

The big news for any photographer wanting to cut down on their monthly costs is that Affinity (and this includes the unbundled earlier Affinity Photo 2) offers a full photo editing workflow from RAW conversion through to layered final editing. What’s more, if you require layout tools for creating brochures, or a more professional looking photobook, these available in the Affinity Publisher 2 app which is very similar to the Adobe inDesign package. For web-designers and illustrators there is also the Affinity Illustrator 2. The new Affinity app (more fully names as ‘Affinity by Canva’) essentially places all three apps into a since platform. You can switch between the apps by selecting between Vector, Pixel and Layout in the top left of the app’s interface. There is of course, an additional tab for ‘Canva AI’. More on that later though. 

The combination of the Affinity apps into this new all-encompassing app means that there is a huge scope for compatibility of files. Not only will the Pixel mode open up RAW files, through to PSD, DNG, and the usual PNG, TIF and jpeg files, but if you select Open and choose an idml file (Adobe inDesign), it’ll automatically open that up in the Layout mode. 

The kicker in all of this is that Affinity by Canva is absolutely free. No once off cost, no subscription. Free! 

Why this matters for photographers 

In my world of photographic workshops (in places like Madeira, Namibia’s dunes, Madagascar), software tools play a large role. Not only is there the usual worksflow of editing RAW files and creating finished layered images in post-production, but there is also the prepping layouts for workshop materials, branding and designing social media content that we create to get photographers to notice Nature’s Light and join us on workshops in the first place. I’ve already completely ported over to Affinity Designer 2 for creating out workshop brochures.  The new Affinity setup gives you:

• A high-quality editing and design tool without the overhead of a recurring cost.
• The flexibility to handle everything from image retouching to designing booklets or phonebooks in one app.
• A future-facing system: because it integrates with the Canva ecosystem (for those who want to go further into collaboration or AI features) you’re also aligned with newer creative-tool directions.

The Gotcha…if it really is a Gotcha

If you already own older Affinity apps (Photo 2, Designer 2, Publisher 2) you can continue using them, but future updates/support may centre on the new unified Affinity by Canva app. Apart from a few small changes to the app interface there is currently little change between the standalone apps and the new all encompassing one. 

Currently the Affinity app is available for Windows and Mac OS. There is apparently an iOS version in the works, but it isn’t out just yet. 

The biggest Gotcha for the average photographer, is that it’s missing one rather important part of the photographic pipeline: the management and culling of images. If you are using PhotoShop as a standalone, you get the very capable Bridge app as well. Then there’s the excellent and still industry leading Lightroom (which is bundled into the Photography package with Adobe - now at $20 a month) which is a RAW management and editing platform. I’m a strong proponent and user of Adobe Lightroom’s biggest competitor; Capture One. However this too requires a not insignificant tax of over $25 per month (or the slightly easier to swallow $179 per annum). If Affinity/Canva bring out an alternative then both Adobe and Capture One may have a user retention on their hands. 

For the time being though, if you are looking to save as much as possible on your monthly software tithe, you could look at purchasing the one-time offer of On1 and bundling that together with the Affinity app. That would meet the photographic image management and editing tools of the vast majority of photographers out there. 

The Da Vinci Resolve Case

What Affinity are doing is not new. Several years ago Black Magic Design decided to make their in-house video editor free in the form of a ‘Lite’ version (simply called Da Vinci Resolve) and paid for in the form a ‘Studio’ version called Da Vinci Resolve Studio. The amazing part of all of this is that the Da Vinci Resolve Lite is a fully-fledged video editing powerhouse. It gets about 90% of the features of the Studio version, but doesn’t skimp of the core editing features. So you get the ability to work with numerous RAW video codecs, up to 4K UHD export (at up to 60fps), multi channel audio and tons of features of what professional video editors would consider essential. If you upgrade to ‘Studio’ you get more export options, ai filters like noise reduction in visuals and audio, 3D graphic rendering and better performance out of your graphics card. Do the vast majority of video editors need the Studio version? No. The new up front cost of $295 makes it attractive enough that a lot of serious editors will simply opt for the more fully featured Da Vinci Resolve Studio. 
The result of Black Magic’s decisions is that Resolve has become one of the top three most popular video editors (with Premiere Pro and Final Cut X being the other two) on the market and is rapidly outstripping Adobe for users. That major Hollywood blockbuster movies are being edited with Da Resolve Studio further enhances Black Magics ‘chops’ in the game. While working as a lecturer at Vega College I would continually see students opting to learn Resolve despite Premiere being part of their course work - the realisation being that after college, paying the $20 a month for Premiere (on top of any Photoshop subscription) would be a bitter pill to swallow. 
Canva have basically taken the same model and applied it to their purchase of the Affinity suite. Affinity is free, sure. If you want to get any AI tools or specific AI filters, then you have to subscribe to Canva ($12,99 a month or $120 annually). I personally don’t use Canva, but Jackie (my wife and another Nature’s Light instructor) does on a daily basis. She uses it for instagram posts, social media advertising, print layout, reels, lecture presentations, motion graphics and more. For her workflow it makes absolute sense to subscribe. For the majority of photographers not working as content creators, it isn’t necessary. 

My take (and how I’m going to use it)

From a workshop leader’s perspective, this move by Affinity is exciting. It aligns with my belief that great creative tools shouldn’t be hindered by cost, especially when you’re teaching, collaborating and producing visual work in the field. A large number of photographers who join us are looking to minimise the cost of photography, which for the last few years just seems to be on an upward trajectory. 
I’ll be looking deeper into using Affinity for editing. I’m not likely to leave the Capture One fold as I have just become so used to its tools. Plus Affinity is still missing the DAM (Digital Asset Management) component of the image-editing workflow. This is something that I lean heavily into with Capture One and which other photographers rely on in Lightroom. But there are more affordable options (On1) and even free alternatives (Dark Table) to both Capture One and Lightroom. 
So we’ll hopefully get enough experience with Affinity to be able to offer sessions and advice to participants on our future workshops. From my limited use of Affinity Photo 2 and my more regular use of Affinity Designer 2, I will definitely be recommending the app to photographers who don’t want to spend their money on subscriptions to app services that they rarely use. 

Final thoughts

The creative-software landscape is shifting. With Affinity going free and all-in-one, it sends a message: you shouldn’t have to compromise on editing ability just because you’re not paying monthly. For photographers and creatives in general, this is a moment worth noting — and perhaps embracing. It’s also a shot across the bows of the established software industry. 

I consider a photoshoot, particularly a landscape photoshoot a success if I can walk away with a publishable image. That’s one publishable image. Obviously a commercial shoot is different, but the hit rate for out of the park awesomeness is still pretty much on the low end of figures. A really good landscape shoot might offer up a few publishable images, but again, the expectation should never be more than one. 

The reality, again with landscape photography, is that a fair number of planned photoshoots net a whole lotta nothing. The reality is that weather, timing, and just plain bad luck can act together to ruin a shoot. A forecast for epic cloud can end up in a mizzly spray of grey drizzle. The light can just simply not pop, or a haze may block out any decent contrast and detail from a scene that really requires it. You can plan for weeks to chase some epic snow in the mountains and then, despite all forecasts predicting it, be disappointed by days of clear skies, smokey horizons and meh light. It happens.

Then there are the magic mornings where it just keeps getting better! We had one of these on our last workshop to the Wild Coast earlier this year. Our first morning at the iconic Hole in the Wall on South Africa’s Wild Coast was just a smorgasbord of epic light and awesome scenes. We end our ‘Wandering The Wild Coast’ on this rugged section of Eastern Cape’s coastline because of the stunning cliffs that drop into the ocean, the beautiful and ethereal Milkwood forests and of course, the Hole-in-the-wall massif itself: a rock outcrop with a tunnel bored out by millennia of waves crashing from the ocean side, and a river opening out to the sea chipping away from the landward side. 

The weather forecast had predicted a very gentle onshore breeze with some early morning cloud cover. Nothing particularly exciting. As we walked towards the bay where we would be shooting the cloud cover actually looked heavier than we had anticipated, although out toward the Indian Ocean it did show a great big clear patch. 

Setting up on the rocks of the bay, with the sunlight starting to backlight Whale Rock, we suddenly saw cloud seep into clouds (time 06:02). Magenta and orange flecked the cloud base while a coolish blue still lay over the top. An explosion of orange lit the horizon. The clouds themselves shifted and parted fairly quickly as well. The tide itself was coming in, but was low enough that our small group of photographers could get themselves into water searching for decent foreground rocks to balance against the background coastal peak and cliffs. 

As the sun rose, and feeling like I had caught what I wanted (already by 06:22), I moved away from the water and quickly launched my drone (along with another two of the photographers who were also keen on getting aerial). The colour kept coming; one of those moments were I was torn between shooting aerial images of Hole in the Wall, and getting back to the shoreline for more seascape images. As the sun rose a little higher the colour seemed to burn off ever so slightly and a hazy warm light diffused through the milkweed forest. Change of scene!

By 07:00 several of us were searching for shapes in the gnarled wood of the forest. The sun, still low on the horizon, now casting gorgeous light rays through the leaves and forming an awesome sunstar as a feature. It was only 07:36 and yet it felt like surely we were done. There couldn’t be more. Wrong! Walking back the light rays sifting through the leaves just kept getting better and better. 

Finally, at 08:15 we left the forest (we’d only entered the forest to get to Hole in the Wall at 05:55). It still wasn’t over though as there was the obligatory ‘cows on a beach’ shot to get as we walked back towards the lodge and a well-earned breakfast. Not the strongest image to end the morning on but still one I was happy to have. 

Not every morning works out. Some just don’t stop giving! 

A large island floats serenely in a rings of sapphire and turquoise. A larger body of green mountains lies some distance away, the mainland I assume as the aircraft banks away and and we see once more nothing but ocean though the starboard window we are sitting next to. A dhow appears with it’s blue sail, cutting towards a shoreline that is again becoming visible as we descend towards the water. The plane flares gently and palm trees whip by as we land on the ridiculously short run and trundle up to a tiny, but still international, airport building. A wave of wet heat washes over us as the stewardess opens the hatch door. Stepping out, a big sign with ‘Welcome to Nosy Be’ can be seen near the entrance to the building. We’re here. 

The first time I looked down from the plane over Madagascar as we crossed over the azure coloured reefs and tidal flats near Morondova, I remember wondering whether there would be a return to the brown hilly landscape below. We hadn’t even landed and I was wondering about the future. Silly in retrospect, but this was a step into the unknown for our nascent photographic travel company. Fast forward and I have been down the western coast and back up the spine of Madagascar to the sprawling capital of Antananarivo multiple times. Each time has been an extraordinary adventure. Each time several more portfolio images result. Each time I am blown away by this incredible country, so similar and yet so vastly different the large continental mass to it’s west. 

After a fantastic workshop in 2023, two photographers who had joined me said, ‘well if you ever decide to travel to the north, we’ll join! Challenge accepted and we started to work on an itinerary for Madagascar’s far north. For anyone who has travelled to the south and centre of the island, they know that moving about the country can be difficult and slow. The north is harder. Nosy Be is a tourist haven for the country, but few travellers venture beyond the island and its outlying archipelago. This becomes immediately apparent the moment you leave the small boat harbour at Ankify on the Madagascan mainland and travel away from the coast. Violent cyclones last year and the beginning of this year ravaged the road network and its bridges. In some places the resultant potholes are literally so large that vehicles descend into them via earth slopes while the other side of the road remains above the vehicle’s roofline. More sinkholes than potholes. Massive roadworks are taking place between Ambanja and Antsiranana though, repairing and upgrading effectively the main road between the principle towns of the north.  

Despite landing in Nosy Be, we quickly made our way to the mainland of Madagascar and worked our way south to Maromandia. On the edge of a large wetland area we were able to find the elusive ‘Blue-eyed Lemur’. So few tourists venture to this part of Madagascar that there is literally only one small locally owned lodge in the area. By lodge, I mean a grouping of small thatched huts. Showers are bucket showers and the scant electricity is courtesy of an overworked solar panel. The hosts are effusively welcoming and accommodating. It still feels a little bit like we stepping out of a UFO though as we pull into the small dirt parking area where we are staying. 

Part of the adventure of traveling in Madagascar is the fact that despite being a tourist, you meet and interact with the local people of the areas that you visit in a way that tourists often bypass. You aren’t molly-coddled in hotels, and ushered about by people who always speak the same language as you. There is a genuine sense of exploration and of discovery as you walk through the villages and engage with the people you meet. In this way we duck between hamlets and through small orchards as our guides, local farmers and fishermen, lead us to where the lemurs were last seen. 

These strange enigmatic creatures are of course one of the primary reasons for visiting the north of Madagascar. Although lemurs are found throughout the island, it is in the densely forested north that they really thrive. There are over 100 distinct species of lemur in Madagascar, with over a third being critically endangered. Just about all of them are found in small pockets where they are endemic not just to the island, but to the tiny area that they are found in. So we visited Maromandia in order to see the Blue-eyed lemur, Daraina to see the Golden-eared Sifaka and Nosy Komba to see photograph the Black lemur. The north with it’s wide variety of lemurs is a paradise for wildlife photographs wanting to create images of these inquisitive prosimians. 

From a landscape perspective it is the massive tsingy’s of the north that are a highlight. From Maromandia we traveled to the complex of limestone tsingy’s around the massive Ankarana. Although not unique to Madagascar, tsingy is the Malagasy name for limestone karst rock formations. They appear like a forest of sharp knives. Limestone, which is a sedimentary rock that has formed at the bottom of the sea over millions of years. When exposed over time these limestone plateaus become eroded through water erosion from above and below, creating extraordinary cave systems under the limestone surface, and forming the knife edge shards above. 

From previous experience in Tsingy de Bemahara in Madagascar’s south, we decided to avoid the large national park of Tsingy de Ankarana. As incredible as these locations are to visit, they are decidedly difficult to photograph due to the inability to get into the parks timeously. Gates open late, close early, and there is a decided lack of pace by park authorities in terms of getting to viewpoints for the best light in the early morning and the late afternoon. Instead, we headed towards the southern edge of the Ankarana complex to a smaller tsingy called the Tsingy Grigi e Grotta (the cave of eels tsingy). This small offshoot belongs to the local community that have teamed up with the owners of Iharana (the Malagasy word for tsingy) Bush Camp. From here we had privileged access to the tall peaks of the tsingy during the best light. In future we’ll even try for some milky way photography amongst the rocks, but access in and out of the limestone formation is always tricky and requires some physical dexterity. 

Certainly less physical dexterity and strenuousness is required to photograph the equally fascinating Tsingy Rouge. The Tsingy Rouge, or Red Tsingy, is a unique sandstone formation in northern Madagascar. That is eroded by water flow into the Irodo River. The red soil of the region is a type of laterite soil, meaning that it has a high mineral content (rich in iron oxides), and which which gives its distinctive reddish-orange hue. Rainfall, rivers, and wind have gradually worn away the softer parts of the sandstone, leaving behind the striking, melting wax like sculptural spires that make the Tsingy Rouge famous. 

One of the most extraordinary experiences here was making our way to the base of the one of the canyons to photograph the Tsingy Rouge with the rising band of the Milky Way above. The red limestone spires stood like silent sentinels, glowing faintly in the moonlight. We set up for long exposures and Milky Way images beneath the clearest of night skies. No wind, no hum of activity (save for a dog barking in some distant village)—just complete stillness, broken by the occasional murmuring of one of the photographers in our group. It’s hard to explain the feeling: somewhere between awe and serenity, as if the entire universe was leaning in to listen. Sitting there with nothing but the shutter’s quiet click and the Milky Way overhead is mesmerising! 

Before we had made our way to the Tsingy Rouge we had first visited the very far wind-swept northern shores of Madagascar at Diego Suarez. Here we encountered the extraordinary sculptural forms of the mangroves trees on the vast flats of the Baie Androvabazaha. This was an important bay in the second world war, now remembered through empty bunkers and massive gun emplacements that cover the limestone cliffs as they face the ocean. Now long dhows and smaller pirogues plough the waves of the bay’s opening, their sails cracking jokes at the rusting barrels of long-forgotten canons. 

The bustle and business of Antsiranana (the local name for the originally named Diego Suarez) stands as quite a contrast the slower rural pace of the villages. Market trade takes place on virtually every street corner with a riot of colour and smells. Garishly painted shop fronts complete with drab adobe walls and and hastily whitewashed wooden planking, now faded to yellows and and browns. The windows are wound down in the vehicles as we slowly move through traffic; pedestrian, zebu driven oxcart, old Renault 4s, cameras lean out of the windows as our group does a spot of ‘drive by shooting’, catching the life lived out on the street. 

The edge of town appears quite suddenly and we whisk past rice fields ranging from lime green to sun soaked yellow. The north with its warmth and higher rainfall means that the field produce two crops of the staple food a year. Double the yield obtainable through most of the south. A good thing too considering the vast amount of rice that is consumed annually by the island (apparently the average Madagascar consumes 136 to 153 kilograms of rice per). Although the diet is heavily influenced by European diet and foods, it is not uncommon to see rice being eaten three times a day. 

The rice fields slowly start giving way to denser forest and hills. A layer of misty cloud hangs over a tall mountain ahead. Amber Mountain rises up from the agricultural fields as a densely forested peak, crowned in white cloud. The Parque Montagne D’Ambre is one of Madagascar’s richest biodiversity spots. After meeting up with our local guides (you pretty much need local guides at all of the protected areas) we immediately get shown a variety of species from leaf-tailed geckos to minuscule nano-chameleons that are no larger than one’s pinkie finger nail (the Mount d'Ambre leaf chameleon - Brookesia tuberculata). Meanwhile Sanford’s Brown lemurs leap from branches above in the forest canopy while we walk along damp leaf strewn paths towards Caskata Sakra (Sacred waterfall). With condensation occurring almost daily, the park is home to several beautiful waterfalls, several of which are considered sacred by the local communities. Red and white cloth hangs from a tree near the Caskata Sakra indicating its sacred stature, but we are still allowed to take photographs of the beautiful falls, and our guides quickly show us not only how to get to different angles of the falls by avoiding the sacred area (seemingly only near the cloth and directly in the spray of water), but also of the multitude of species in the undergrowth ad branches of trees near where we are shooting. No surprise considering the park is home to seventy-five species of birds, twenty-five species of mammals, and fifty-nine species of reptiles. 

Our whistle stop visit to the park is far too short before we have to head off to the Tsingy Rouge. Very quickly it’s realised that more time will be be necessary inside the park, so we leave knowing that following workshops to the north will include more time in this spectacular rainforest setting. 

From the wet forests and eroding tsingy’s we backtracked towards and Ambilobe and then cut eastwards towards the Vohemar on the east coast. If we thought that there had been few tourists before, we were stunned by the almost complete lack of outsiders now. Extraordinarily few tourists make their way to this portion of the island. Partly this is due to the poor road infrastructure. However, two year’s ago a new Chinese built road was completed between Ambilobe and Vohemar. It has cut the travel down from two days to two hours. Possibly more tourists will make their way here in future, but for the time being it was essentially us and a small group of Polish cyclists. Even in the town of Vohemar where we stayed at a hotel that looked like something out of a 1960s movie - the ‘Hotel Baie de Iharana’, their is scant evidence of tourism. The result being that local beachgoers look on quizzically as we wander down the sand towards the tiny one quay port to photograph pirogues as they set off to cross the bay in the evening.

What draws us to this truly far-flung corner of Madagascar is the Protected Loki-Manambato area. This is an enormous dry woodland biome that is home to the endangered Golden-eared Sifaka, as well as the almost mythical Aye-aye. We bump down a rarely used sand road along with our specialist guide to the foot of a range of hills. From hear we take an easy hike along a rarely used path into the forest, crunching over bone-dry leaves as we wend our way deeper. A faint sound like a high-pitched baby’s murmur and we see the rust tinged white of a Sifaka staring back at us from his perch a few metres above. A Long white tale, graceful limbs and a serious expression as the Sifaka stares languidly back at us. It’s still fairly early in the morning so the conspiracy (yes, that is indeed what a group of lemurs is called) is still fairly inactive, soaking up the morning sun rather than bouncing from tree to tree.

We leave the group and make our way deeper into the forest, stopping to photograph the occasional gecko, snake or scorpion. As with all the other forests we have seen, it is teeming with quiet life. All it requires is looking carefully to find something under the leaves, behind some bark, or straight out staring at you in the face from a treetop vantage. 

It isn’t just wildlife in this part of the world that is fascinating to encounter. After a quick snack and some more time spent with the now very active family of Sifaka, we made our way an artisanal mining site. Here, local miners dig deep pits, transport the soil and pan for gold along the winding river’s edge. ‘Bemused’ would probably be the best description of how they regarded us as we wandered into their camp. Our guide is friendly with the families working their and is able to explain what they are doing. A trade of install portraits gets some time with individual miners as they demonstrate how they methodically sift their way through the tons of slurry. A tiny medicine

jar with a few grains of the precious metal is evidence of a week of work. Photographing these people brings home the reality and dissonance between their meagre earning and that of mining executives sitting in high-rise buildings in Sydney and London. 

The disparity of wealth is evident wherever you travel in Madagascar. Travel opens the mind as the adage goes. What it really does is open the eyes to anyone who is prepared to travel with a questioning mind. Madagascar is achingly poor, yet the people are happy and content in most of our encounters. I would say far more so that a lot of other African countries that I have visited. There is glaring inequality between the rich and the poor, as there is in our own home country of South Africa. The difference is that in the latter there is a near constant discussion around the income disparity and the plight of the poor. There is significantly less of that seemingly on the Island. I say this not as a criticism, but more as an observation of a country left behind in many ways by the rest of the world. The antiquated Peugeot 404 pickups and Renault 4 taxis are partly testament to this. Remove the ads for Orange and Telma cellular services and you could quite easily be walking the streets of Madagascar in the 1970s, or even earlier. 

You are hurtled into the present once, more on the small tropical island of Nosy Be. Our last two nights are spent along the much visited strip of beach on the western side of the Island. Modern, white sided hotels vie for clientele from Europe. Pale-skinned tourists lie baking in the sun, occasionally turning over to obtain and even medium to medium rare bake. The sounds of French, Italian and Portuguese (as well as some English) drown out the Malagasy and French Patois of the islanders. 

Here we make our way in the late afternoon to the popular sundowner spot of Mont Passot. This, the tallest peak of a long extinct volcano is named after the equally long expired French Captain Pierre Passot who was responsible for the ceding of the Island to the French (as well as the acquisition of Mayotte to France during the ‘Scramble for Africa’ by the European powers - with scant disregard to the opinion of the locals of course). Mont Passot is a Mecca for the Nosy Be tourists; apparently THE place to watch the sun go down from the off-shoot island. An alien site to us after traveling across the north of Madagascar and barely seeing any other tourists. The busy thrum of buzzing bees marks the dozen or so drones that are launched into the air to capture the dying light as it sets over the Mozambican Channel. 

Despite the tourists, the sunset is indeed beautiful as we watch the great fiery orb dip slowly into the dark blue waters somewhere towards the Comores (not that we can see them of course). There’s a sense of disbelief as we wind our way back along the narrow road to our hotel near the small town of Dzamandzar. It’s been an extraordinary two weeks exploring Madagascar’s North. Embarking on the plane back to Johannesburg feels like we have left something unfinished. There’s more to see. There are more images to make, people to meet, landscapes to see. We’ve peeked past the horizon and discovered there’s a whole new world out there. We’ll be back! 

Join us on next year's Beyond The Horizon photographic workshop. Click on the link to find out more: Beyond The Horizon.