Lessons I Learned From a Decade on the Road With a Camera

Ten years ago, I booked a one-way ticket to Australia, packed my camera, and set out with no real plan—just a gut feeling that I wanted to see the world and somehow make photography my life. I didn’t go to film school. I didn’t know what licensing was. And I definitely didn’t understand how hard it would be to build a sustainable creative career while living out of a backpack.

Since then, my camera has taken me to over 55 countries, 10 of which I called home for a while. I’ve shot for global brands, licensed images to airlines, and lived everywhere from the beaches of Sri Lanka to the dramatic coastline of South Africa. It’s been scattered with sleepless nights, worrying about making rent and whether I was cut out for this life at all.

Here are the lessons I’ve learned from a decade on the road with a camera—not the ones you find in YouTube tutorials, but the kind that come from trying, failing, and figuring it out the hard way.

1. Overnight Success Is a Myth — and You Don’t Want It Anyway

In today’s world, it’s easy to romanticize the idea of becoming an overnight success. We see photographers blowing up on social media, landing massive brand deals after one viral post, or seemingly going from obscurity to global campaigns in a few months.

There’s nothing wrong with taking the long road. In fact, I think it’s better. The slow burn gives you perspective. It builds resilience. The low points make the highs even better, and they keep you grounded when success eventually comes.

I’ve had incredible moments in my career, but they’re always balanced by the struggles it took to get there. And I’m grateful for that. Because if everything came easy, I probably wouldn’t appreciate any of it.

2. The Best Photos Rarely Come From the Easiest Days

Some of my favorite images are from difficult times.

I’ve hiked mountains in freezing conditions to catch first light in Japan, lugged gear through monsoon-soaked jungle trails in Sri Lanka, and sat for hours in the middle of the winter night just to photograph a five-second moment in Sweden’s Lapland. Those weren’t "ideal conditions." They were honestly frustrating, exhausting, and sometimes even dangerous.

But the shots I got in those moments? They had a story.

The truth is, ease rarely leads to impact. If you’re only shooting when the lighting’s perfect and the conditions are comfortable, your portfolio might look polished, but it’ll probably lack grit. Grit is what gives your work power.

3. Burnout Doesn’t Announce Itself

One of the hardest parts of being a creative on the road is the blurred line between work and life. Every trip is a potential shoot. Every sunset is a missed opportunity if you’re not filming it. Every moment can feel like content.

Early on, I said yes to everything—even when the rates were low (or free), the projects uninspiring, or the timelines unrealistic. I was afraid that saying no meant missing my shot or progressing my career. But what it actually led to was burnout.

Burnout doesn’t hit like a brick wall. It creeps in slowly. One missed personal project. One skipped day off. One too many all-nighters. Before you know it, your love for the craft starts to fade.

Now I schedule breaks. I shoot personal work even when no one’s paying for it. I remind myself that rest isn’t a reward—it’s part of the process. If you don’t protect your creativity, no one else will.

4. You Don’t Need the Best Gear — You Need the Gear That Fits Your Life

I used to obsess over specs. I’d spend hours researching lenses and sensors, thinking upgrading my kit would automatically upgrade my career.

Over time, I realized what mattered most was how portable and reliable my gear was, especially while living on the road.

Switching to a smaller mirrorless system (I shoot with a Sony a6700 now) changed the game for me. I could hike longer and be less worried about weight or theft. Did I trade a bit of resolution? Maybe. But I gained freedom. And freedom helps you shoot more, explore more, and stay inspired.

The best camera is the one you actually bring—the one that doesn’t make you resent packing. Find what works for your workflow, not just your wish list.

5. Home Isn’t a Failure — It’s a New Lens

Once a year, I return home to coastal Mississippi and find myself photographing the same places I once couldn’t wait to leave. But this time, I see them differently.

Sometimes, the most powerful images come from places we think we know, seen through a new lens. Coming home doesn’t mean giving up the dream. It means seeing how far you’ve come and how much beauty was there all along.

Ten years ago, I thought creativity required constant motion—that standing still was failure. But I’ve learned that returning, not just traveling, is its own kind of creative act. Going back to familiar places and seeing them with new eyes is proof of growth. Now, when I shoot in my hometown, I don’t see boredom. I find stories there that are just as rich as anything I’ve captured overseas.

Final Thoughts

Ten years with a camera on the road has taught me lessons I never could’ve learned in a classroom. It taught me patience, perseverance, adaptability, and trust in both myself and the process.

If you’re starting out, don’t chase the fast wins. Let your journey unfold slowly. Let the rejections shape you. Let the hard days make you better. Success isn’t something you catch; it’s something you grow into.

And when (not if) it comes, you’ll feel every step it took to get there.