There was a time when I travelled with enough photographic equipment to open a small camera shop. Two camera bodies, several lenses, flashguns, filters, chargers, spare batteries, cleaning equipment and a tripod heavy enough to support a railway bridge.
Age—and several decades of sore shoulders—has taught me differently. The travelling photographer does not need to carry everything. He needs to carry the right things and, more importantly, understand how to use them.
My first essential is a dependable camera. It does not have to be the latest model, possess the most megapixels or arrive with artificial intelligence hiding behind every button. It must simply be a camera I know and trust.
For me, that might be an old Nikon D700, a D3S or the magnificent D850 when I want every last piece of detail. The important thing is familiarity. When something happens in front of me, I do not want to search through menus or wonder which button controls the focus mode. The camera should feel like an old friend—slightly battered perhaps, but always ready.
Then there is the lens.
One good lens is often enough. A 35mm or 50mm prime makes a wonderfully simple travelling companion. A practical zoom such as a 24–70mm or 24–120mm gives greater flexibility without requiring a bag full of glass. If I know that people will be my principal subject, an 85mm may earn its place.
The temptation is to pack a lens for every possibility. Resist it. Too many choices slow the photographer down. You begin changing lenses instead of making pictures.
A spare battery is essential. Two are better if the day will be long. Batteries have a wicked sense of humour and usually expire just as the light becomes beautiful or something interesting begins to happen.
Memory cards should be reliable, sensibly sized and carried somewhere safe. I would rather use several moderate-capacity cards than trust an entire journey to one enormous card. Cards can fail, disappear or be accidentally formatted. Spreading the work across more than one is a small form of insurance.
Every evening, whenever possible, I copy the day’s photographs onto a laptop or portable drive. Ideally, I keep two copies in separate places. A camera can be replaced. The photographs from a journey cannot.
A comfortable camera strap matters more than most people realise. The strap supplied with the camera may be adequate for an afternoon, but after eight hours in the heat it can begin to feel like a cheese wire. A good shoulder or wrist strap keeps the camera secure without advertising its value to everybody in the street.
The camera bag should be small, strong and ordinary-looking. I do not need something that resembles military luggage and announces that expensive equipment is inside. It must protect the camera, provide quick access and leave enough room for the unglamorous necessities: water, tissues, a notebook and perhaps something to eat.
Good footwear may be the most important photographic equipment I own. Travelling photography is done with the feet. Interesting pictures are rarely made while sitting in an air-conditioned hotel room complaining about the midday light.
Comfortable, broken-in shoes allow me to keep walking, turn down another street and stay out for another hour. That extra hour is often when the best photograph appears.
Clothing should suit the place rather than the photographer’s imagined appearance. Lightweight, loose clothing works in the Cambodian heat. A hat offers protection from the sun, while a light waterproof layer can save both photographer and camera when the sky suddenly opens.
Water is not optional. Neither is sun protection. An exhausted, dehydrated photographer stops seeing properly and begins making foolish decisions. Travel photography requires enough energy to remain observant, patient and respectful.
A small cleaning cloth and blower are useful, especially in dusty streets or humid conditions. There is no need to carry a laboratory. Most cleaning can wait until the evening. Changing lenses in wind, dust or heavy rain should be avoided whenever possible.
I also carry a notebook. A mobile phone can record names and details, but a notebook never runs out of power and does not distract me with messages. If I photograph somebody and speak with them, I can write down their name, the location and a few details about the encounter. Those notes may later give the photograph its proper meaning.
The phone remains valuable. It provides maps, weather information, translation, emergency communication and a perfectly capable backup camera. I may be an old photographer, but I am not foolish enough to ignore a useful tool simply because it does not have a Nikon badge.
Documents, money and emergency information need careful thought. I keep copies of my passport, insurance details and important telephone numbers separately from the originals. A little local currency should be kept somewhere accessible, with the remainder divided between safer locations.
Respect is another essential, although it weighs nothing.
Learn something about the country. Understand local customs. Notice when a camera is welcome and when it is not. A photograph is never worth humiliating somebody, entering a sacred place improperly or creating trouble for a person who has allowed you into their life.
Finally, carry curiosity.
Equipment may help us record what we find, but curiosity is what leads us towards it. Walk slowly. Look behind you, look up. Leave the obvious tourist route. Sit somewhere and allow life to continue without chasing it. Talk to people without immediately raising the camera.
The travelling photographer’s essentials are not really about preparing for every possible picture. They are about remaining light enough—physically and mentally—to recognise the picture that is actually there.
After all these years, my packing list has become shorter. One trusted camera. One useful lens. Batteries, cards, water, good shoes and somewhere safe to store the photographs.
Everything else is negotiable.
The eyes are not.
a world without pictures is like coffee without cream and sugar, bitter 