Camera development and the wealth of online tutorials has given rise to the self-taught photographer. The abundance of this information gives the average person hope to think they’ve got what it takes. Oh the lure of blissful ignorance. So you dust off the old DSLR, unearthed from some deep cupboard of old ideas and see if it still works.
Surf photography is more fun than you think it is. Not as fun as being in the water, but there’s something captivating about sitting in the sand and watching your usual show only about ten times closer. It’s a different way to watch surfing. Just like standing on the beach you can see the sets approaching, waves forming and breaking, but looking through a lens is like stepping into a micro world and suddenly you can see waves in close up, but without the worry of having to get out of their way. These close ups give you time to study the chops and steps on the wave face or the subtle ways the water changes hues as it draws and rises. The same goes for the surfers, you see their take offs, their turns, but also their faces, and their expressions of concentration, adulation and strain. It’s stuff like this that you just don't see watching from the carpark. It’s gives you an enhanced appreciation. In taking photos, you look to capture the best features of what’s presented. Sometimes you can be lucky enough to have the shot served up to you, and all you have to do is click, but that really never happens.
What you’re looking to capture and record, is conversely incredibly ephemeral, momentary and fickle. You have to find the right break and time it well for the right light. You have to wait for the the swell and the wind, and when this is all finally matched up, you have to wait for the surfer to actually do something worthwhile. Professional photographers taking pictures of professional surfers produce dazzling postcard shots of a rider sitting deep in turquoise barrels off some secluded tropical island. Or a perfectly backlit air amongst moody shadows on iceberg dotted breaks in the far north. The funding and the crew are the best, but you’re not Morgan Maassen and you don't have Dion Agius on speed dial (and neither do you have $20k to drop on professional camera gear). So what does it look like for your more average individual?
The alarm goes off just before sunrise. You drag yourself out of bed, chuck on a hoodie, grab your camera and head down to your local beachie. You pull in, the surf’s average and no one is out, so you check the time and head quickly up to the next beach. There’s a couple guys out here but nothing worthwhile is happening. You snap a few pics of the sun climbing over the horizon and sprint up to the next beach. Finally, the waves are decent and the guys out are putting it to good use. By the time you run across the shore and plonk yourself in the sand you’ve missed it. The sun had risen when you were driving and now you’re all set to take pictures of blinding light glaring off the water.
However, determined to make the most of it, you sit, camera poised, for hours. Which is probably the worst part of it all; sitting for hours on end in all kinds of weather, your back aches, your neck is sore and either your feet are so cold they hurt or you’re getting roasted (there’s only so much a towel draped over your head can do). Being landlocked can suck, but your mates will love you for it almost as much as they’ll love the photos of themselves. It’s ironic how easy it is to spend so much time, energy and dedication surfing and have virtually no hard evidence of it – because if the waves are good who wants to sit it out?
There are definitely those who perform more when watched and recorded, and are stoked to see photos of them surfing. Just as there are those who hate the self awareness brought on by such a spectator. Not that there’s much choice in the matter, asking permission to take photos isn’t really an option. Unless a riled surfer paddles in, trashes your camera and throws it into the ocean screaming ‘FREEDOM!’, you’ve pretty much got your way with it. Be wary though, photographers like surfers, are pushed on by the idea of ‘just one more.’ They’ll go to the next beach, and wait for the next set, and the next wave, waiting for their guy to catch just one more. So you’ll stay out, but the experience is nearly always worth it (results can be questionable). And even better, whilst close up views of the ocean are cool, telephoto lenses really do work. So you can laugh at the stupid things people do when they think no one can see. Perks.
