What does it actually mean to be ‘in the field’ as an ocean explorer? For me, it’s immersing myself entirely – salt in my hair, gear on my back, curiosity driving every move. Fieldwork isn’t neat or curated. It’s muddy, unpredictable, and raw. You’re truly out there – away from desks and screens – diving into rarely seen ecosystems, listening closely to the communities who’ve lived alongside them, and learning directly from nature’s unfiltered rhythms.

Initially, I was drawn in by more than just the sheer beauty of exploration. It was the endless questions behind those surreal images from remote coasts and underwater worlds – captivating scenes that felt far deeper than just stunning visuals. They were proof that someone had ventured there. That someone had gotten close enough to understand something most never will. I found myself constantly wondering: How do I get there? How can I step into that kind of access? How can I become that ‘someone’?

As a child, I was obsessed with wildlife magazines – devouring stories of explorers, studying their photos as if they held some kind of secret code. I built this romantic idea of fieldwork in my head: endless days in pristine wilderness, rare wildlife casually revealing itself, nature rewarding the curiosity and bravery of those who dare immerse themselves. I believed that if you showed the grit for exploration, the magic would inevitably follow.

But that dream fades quickly in saltwater.

The real field – the kind I’ve come to know – doesn’t care about your shot list, your storyline or what you’re trying to uncover. It’s raw. It’s chaotic. It’s stunning one minute and completely unworkable the next. You’re wet, cold, sunburned, occasionally frightened, and constantly adapting. You spend hours waiting for a moment that may never come, and when it does, you better be ready or risk missing it entirely with a single blink!

Yes, there are moments of awe. But alongside those are countless missed dives, flooded gear and disrupted plans. Fieldwork is less a highlight reel and often more of a grind. And still, being out there is the most alive I’ve ever felt. Because every time you push through, every time you adapt, you’re brought closer to the truest essence of a place. And that’s where the real work, and the real reward, resides.