Photo Session Follies

Hey kids, want to be part of the exciting and glamorous world of surf photography?  Want to travel the world? Sample exotic, perfect waves and hang out with world-class surf stars while capturing epic images that fellow surfers, surf magazines and big buck advertisers drool over? Why sure ya do!
Of course, there are two sides to every story and I’m here to share some memories of other…uh, less glorious aspects of life in pursuit of the surf photo. Any surf photographer worth his salt can relate to these mishaps. It just comes with the job.
For many photographers, Hawaii is the first big challenge, and one filled with trial and error. Damaged equipment, blown shots and rip-offs should not be considered shocking developments, although I’ve skirted around a few such episodes with a fair bit of luck.
One winter on the North Shore, I was shooting assignments for Tracks magazine of Australia and freelance stuff for Surfing and SURFER. I rented the cheapest ride I could find, which was a 1973 AMC Gremlin, probably one of the most hideous cars ever conceived, and its sickly green color matched its performance. It did deter potential thieves however, as one day near Pipeline, at least five cars got broken into and a number of photographers had all their still and motion picture gear stolen. Ironically, my gear was in the Gremlin’s back compartment while I did my surf check, with a towel thrown over it, and the back hatch had a broken lock, but my junk heap didn’t even warrant a look-over by those pilfering lowlifes.
It wasn’t all good karma however, as one day I shot from the water at Pipe, Sunset Beach and Velzyland and thought I had scored some of the most exciting images I had ever taken. When I received the slides back from the Honolulu photo lab, they were all black. To my horror, I found out that my shudder SHUTTER? gate was sticking and although it sounded like I was firing off frames, the film wasn’t being exposed. Talk about a big kick in the gut. That was tough, but there were other good days to put it behind me.
One winter, I rented a room at a house near Sunset Point and although the live-in landlord couple appeared a little pasty and slow, they seemed nice enough and I could easily check the waves every morning. Well, it turned out the guy was probably the North Shore’s biggest dealer of  hard-core mind-numbing illegal drugs and some pretty scary-looking dudes from Westside Oahu would come over at all-hours looking for a score. It was a fine mess I had gotten myself into. There were a number of nervous nights when I would hear various loud, strung-out bodies literally bouncing off the hallway halls as I attempted to get some restless sleep.
Of course, I encountered some of these heavy local boys after dark and when they found out I was a surf photographer, I was pretty leery that I might get ripped off or worse, being that I was a blond-haired haole guy. Luckily, and maybe because I was living at that house, they were cool with me. The fact I was taking surfing photos, and some of these guys actually did surf, maybe saved my ass and my gear from disappearing. Still, less than a month into some insane nights of seeing and hearing a lot of self-destructive behavior, I moved out to preserve my peace of mind.
Shooting photos at Pipeline from the water is always a rush. Big west swells line up nicely but when a north swell set swings in wide, you can get caught inside and that can be a dicey situation. One particular day, I was with a group of water photogs bobbing inside on a mostly west, eight to ten foot day. Suddenly, the pack of surfers started to scramble outside as a big north set chugged in. We were gonna get caught and it was time to dive deep, fast. I swam down and was literally hugging the reef just ahead of an exploding wall of white water above me. I got tumbled like a rag doll but managed to hang on to my camera. Two more waves followed in similar fashion.
The photographers behind me were not so lucky. Three guys completely lost their gear and only Dan Merkel managed to recover his housing that washed down past Off-the-Wall. At least that day, my camera was working and I captured some beautiful rides.
Returning back to California from another Hawaiian trip was the all-timer. As I was sitting on the airport tarmac waiting to deplane, I watched a baggage handler unload my trusty workhorse Century 650mm lens from the commuter flight and set it on the ground, oblivious to the fact that a fuel truck driver was pulling up next to the plane. Yes, I got to watch helplessly as my favorite lens got crushed under the truck tires, while I yelled, “No!” from my window seat.
Like I said, the world of surf photography is exciting and glamorous. Just be sure you’ve got a good insurance policy on your life and your equipment before you hit the road.