A spontaneous decision to travel in the fall of 2017 to take photos and sleep in the wilderness of the Tankwa Karoo region of South Africa changed my approach to photography forever. This is a story of a lonely tree in the middle of nowhere that became my obsession. It led me on a journey to experience the essence of making meaningful images.
When I packed my photography and camping gear for the trip, my only mission was to catch a sunset at the top of the magnificent Ouberg Pass. It was my second visit to the area, a vantage point that looks down deep and wide over the valley of Tankwa Karoo. The idea was wild because the location is approximately 400 kilometres away from home, off the tar road and far off the grid. On the way to the pass, I stopped when I saw this unexpected tree standing as a lone sentinel in the middle of the way out of nowhere. What it was guarding, I had no idea. Instead of rushing for the sunset over the valley, I paused my journey. I then took my time photographing and making a short video of this sight.
I could lie and say something philosophical about me standing under this tree. However, the fact is that it’s just a pose because this is what I had seen influencers do on the internet. Little did I know that this pose would mean more to me later.
The Lady on the Plane
A strange twist of fate found me sitting randomly next to a woman on a flight to Dubai. Then we struck up a conversation, sharing backgrounds. It transpired that the tree had actually been planted by her husband more than 40 years ago when he was a little boy. “Our kids call it Pappa se Boom,” she told me, which means Father’s Tree in Afrikaans.
Arranged by the universe, meeting this lady resulted in a family friendship and many photography adventures to visit the tree and its surrounding areas.
“Forty years?” I thought to myself. “How many people must have gone past it and not noticed it? How many stopped and thought, why is there a lonely tree in the desert? Or how many birds must have nested there, and how many animals found shelters beneath? The blaze of how many summers had it felt, and how many storms did it endure? And how many stars gazed upon this tree?” I was entranced for some unknown reason.
“Wait… stars?” I realized I could photograph this tree with the Milky Way over it. I decided that a night shoot was required. While my family thought I was not truly in my senses, we made a road trip to it. I took photos of the Milky Way with the tree in silhouette deep into the night. All this while my wife and son slept soundly in the car on the flattened seats. We breakfasted with sunrise over the valley at the top of the pass, then drove back in the morning. That was 1000 kilometers round trip just to shoot one tree.
Over the years, the tree drew me repeatedly. I conducted a night photography workshop there and sold several copies of its photos. I also made YouTube videos for my channel, signed and framed a copy of the print for my friend who planted it. Finally, I fulfilled my original dream of witnessing a magnificent sunset over the Tankwa. While simple, it is my special memory.
A Separate Trip
Three years ago, on another spontaneous trip to this tree to photograph an unexpected snowfall in the area, I was taken aback to find that the tree had been uprooted from the ground by the recent heavy rains and extreme winds, due to the drought-stricken shallow roots. A piece of a fallen branch still lies in my studio. It’s a reminder of how this crazy obsession has represented my learning arc as a photographer.
How does obsessive behaviour make me a better photographer?
The tree’s allure profoundly influenced my journey as I found new locational obsessions. Over the years, this unstoppable fire in me took me to the local coastlines, nearby canola fields, and Sub-Saharan deserts. Repeated visits to these places and familiarity with different terrains refined my techniques, understanding of lighting, and appreciation of the various elements in a location. I became more patient with the process as I realised we don’t take photos—we make them! My approach to photography took a philosophical turn, too. The unseen and untold stories behind the camera before pressing the shutter button became part of photography. I met people on the road, made good friendships, grew my network, and became partners with local brands here in South Africa.
One such example is on the lower slopes of Table Mountain. The lush Newlands Forest is a sanctuary where I have spent countless hours, through every season, exploring with and without my camera, familiar with every twist in the path. My favourite times are after and even during heavy rainfalls, photographing streams and waterfalls, and the freshness of the soil and greenery. Sometimes I just walk and feel the rain. This forest is the birthplace and coming of age of my long exposure and time-lapse photography. Photos from this forest have been published as book covers, and a giant wallpaper of the stream still adorns the walls of my old company office. It is a place of memories and a place of experiences for me.
Table Mountain
There was also a period of years during which I made countless visits to capture Table Mountain from a beach on the other side of the curved bay in various seasons. A quick glance at the promising clouds would have me grabbing my gear and dashing out, hoping I would beat the traffic in time to set up for the dipping sun and colourful skies performing their magic over the mountain skyline. These have become my best-selling images and are personal favourites hanging in my home.
Final Thoughts
Friends and family call me “crazy” for going to the same spots repeatedly. It is only through my obsessional revisiting of favourite locations, though, that I have seen every face of the places I love, in every light, in rain and blazing heat, from every angle and height, at night and day, with everything the sky has to offer. This has allowed me to showcase in my work the best of how I have experienced them, with my feelings shining through in my images.
