I watched it unfold right in front of me. There I stood, camera in heart but not in hand, as I watched two Vietnamese men in a rice field take a break together. As one lit a cigarette for them to share, the other placed his arm over the shoulder of the first. From this position the two men stood peacefully and watched over the rice fields, their gaze drifting up towards the mountains that towered over them.
I stood behind them. Feet planted to the ground, unable to avert my eyes away from such a beautiful scene. My fingers twitched, reaching out for a way to document the moment but finding nothing.
Whether you’re wandering the streets of Vietnam or hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, as a photographer it can almost feel pretty meaningless if you don’t have your trusty camera in your hand.
Believe me or not, but it turns out there is life after losing your camera (or in my case breaking it… I’m so sorry, Canny). The world does not end. You may even find moments of unexpected peace without the pressure to chase the perfect shot. Join me as I recount my journey of being camera-less in some of South East Asia’s most photogenic destinations. Turns out wandering with just my eyes and memory was more liberating than I could have imagined. Don’t get me wrong, I’d sell my left arm for a camera right now but as it turns out… no one wants my left arm.
The agony of being without your camera on a trip is real. As a photographer, your gear is an extension of yourself. Leaving it behind is like losing one of your senses.
Everywhere you look, shots are calling out to you. That gnarled tree lit by the golden hour sun, the old door with layers of faded paint, the wrinkled face of the fruit seller – all gone in a flash. Your fingers twitch, longing to adjust settings, frame the scene, and click the shutter.
I had been traveling for about 6 months with my trusty Canon M3. By month 4 it was already being held together by nothing but an elastic band to keep the screen from falling off (fellow photographers, I do apologise as I know your skin is probably crawling just reading this). I knew this day would come eventually as I had had this camera for many years and the recent backpacking adventures had got the better of it. The day I took my camera out of my bag but the screen remained, resting at the bottom of my rucksack was the day I knew I had f*cked up.
I had sold my Sony A7III before I set off traveling, for many reasons, I won’t bore you with the details. So at this point I was obviously kicking myself for selling the Sony, while at the same time trying to remind myself that I wouldn’t be here in South East Asia had I not sold it. This endless thought cycle was set to a constant loop in my mind. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just go and get the damn thing fixed?! Well my friends, for many people money is not an issue, for me, this was THE issue. I realised I was just going to have to accept it, I was camera-less.
Wandering unfamiliar streets and discovering hidden gems quickly loses its joy when you have no way to capture the moments. The colours and details start to blur together into a sea of missed opportunities. A feeling of restlessness sets in as your photographer’s eye keeps searching for ‘the’ shot.
In the end, you’re left with only your imperfect memories and a lingering sense of regret. Everywhere I went I would think “if only I had one more chance to see that place again – this time fully armed!”
Thankfully, we live in an age where everyone and their grandmother has a camera. While a smartphone camera is limiting, it does allow you to capture at least some of the moments you encounter. After the initial frustration fades, you can reframe the situation in a positive light. You begin to get over the embarrassment of standing next to all the other smartphone-obsessed tourists. Your brain screaming out “I’m not one of you, I’m a photographer!” but they’ll never know, or care, so just get over it, alright.
You begin to accept that these photos are for you, not for anyone else and that’s okay. Smartphone cameras – even my beaten up Google Pixel 6 – are good enough for social media, for beginner blog posts, and for sending to friends and family (no, really, I swear!)
Capturing Moments Without a Camera While Traveling
The Urge to Frame and Compose
Your photographer’s eye still sees the world as potential compositions. You find yourself instinctively moving to get the best angle, looking for interesting framing and backgrounds, seeking the ideal lighting. Your hands twitch, reaching for a camera that isn’t there. It’s a hard habit to break, even temporarily.
Use Your Phone (selectively)
If the urge to click becomes unbearable, just use your phone – but judiciously. Don’t view the entire trip through a 5-inch screen. Take a few snaps of details that catch your eye, but limit yourself to 1 or 2 photos per day. Make them count. Besides, it turns out you need your phone for a lottt of things while traveling, and this uses up battery, so it’s up to you whether you value the camera more than your maps.
What I Learned from my Lack of a Camera
Being without my camera while traveling as a photographer was a sh!tty, yet enlightening experiment.
- I gained a new appreciation for memory.
I could give you a big spiel about how you should take in the moment, be fully present, talk to more people, smell the roses, etc. I won’t – don’t worry – however, I will say this. You can’t capture a moment as it happens, so you simply have to experience it. You have no choice now, honey, it is how it is.
We rely so heavily on photos to capture and relive our experiences that we barely register them in our minds. Without photos, I had to etch the moments I witnessed into my memory.
I discovered that I wanted to journal more, I felt like I had to make up for the missed opportunities in some way. I found myself writing down the places I wanted to return to, the spots I wanted to bring my camera to.
You know those cringey movies where the guy finds a beautiful secluded lake surrounded by flowers and beautiful birds and he whispers, “one day, I’m gonna bring my future wife here” and he does. Well, I was whispering to my future camera.
- I worried less.
As a photographer, I’m constantly fretting about getting the shot, choosing the right lens, checking lighting and settings. With no camera to fuss over, a huge burden was lifted. I could wander aimlessly, go with the flow, and not feel pressured to shoot every little detail. Turns out, it’s possible to fully enjoy travel without documenting the whole damn thing.
In the end, traveling without my camera was somewhat freeing. But don’t get too excited—you’ll still find me chasing sunsets and street shots, camera in hand, on future trips. Everything in moderation, right?
Conclusion
I hate to admit it, I really do, but there were some occasions on my travels where I was actually grateful I didn’t have my camera with me. Whether that was when I was hiking and thankful for the lack of extra weight, or driving motorbikes with a group of friends who would probably have wanted me dead if I had insisted on stopping for every potential shot.
It gave me a chance to enjoy the time with the people I met, and an opportunity to assess the locations and decide which ones were worth going back for one day, lensed up and ready.
While the withdrawal was tough and my trigger finger twitched on a daily basis, I found some liberation in my camera-less state and gave my creative mind a much-needed rest. I remembered why I fell in love with travel in the first place, while the destinations are stunning, the journey is so much fun when you’re empty handed and stress-free. Traveling crushed and camera-less actually wasn’t so bad.
(please send me a camera)