Wednesday, 18 January 2012

The Balinese Fisherman - The ordeal/how I took the shot

The light surf lapped against my feet as I contemplated photographing a fisherman I could see about 1/2 mile out, casting his net into the surf from the knee-deep shallows of the warm Balinese waters.

The sunset in the distance had already begun, the oranges and reds fading into a blueish hue as the sun dipped well below the horizon. In my hand I held my Canon 5D with a wide-angle 24mm f1.4 lens attached to it.

As I waded chest high with my Camera held high over my head, I slowly drew nearer to the fisherman. The current was stronger than I first thought and I soon became increasingly aware that what I was attempting was actually quite dim. I had waded almost 100 metres out, each incoming wave splashing salt water into my face. Soon, the water became more and more shallow as the sand was replaced by a plateau of the volcanic rock.

Standing on the rock plateau next to the fisherman resembled that sharp feeling of agony when you step on a piece of LEGO by accident. It was excruciating. The fisherman, however, stood casually in the waves in bare feet, clutching his net and carried a yellow basket with an array of different creatures flapping and wriggling inside it as he moved. I asked his permission to take some photographs of him. He smiled with a hint of confusion and waited for the right time to cast his net.

I had my 24mm lens on which means I had to be around 0.5m away from the fisherman for him to fill the frame. While I hunted for a less painful shard of rock to stand on, the fisherman cast his net into the incoming surf. I missed this of course but as he pulled the net back towards him, I was presented with a more unique shot as he 'fished' his hand into the net, just below the surface, to inspect his potential catch -  I raised my camera and took the shot.


 I managed to reel off two more shots before the fisherman walked casually along the the rock plateau to another casting spot. On the verge of tears, I bravely began retreating to the beach, by which time the tide had come in, to the amusement of the on-looking beach-goers. I had to make a slight detour but managed to survive with my camera and my dignity intact.

 I finally reached the beach and began picking the fragments of rock out of my feet - As I write this in Oxfordshire, UK I still have a little piece of that Balinese, igneous rock embedded in my right sole.

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