authentic travel experiences

When Not to Share: Protecting the Wild From Our Own Lenses

There’s a part of our job as photographers and guides that doesn’t get talked about enough… when not to share.

We live in an age where every image or video can go viral in seconds. 

A post, a tag, a location pin, they spread faster than we can imagine. And with that comes a strange consequence… the more we share, the less wild some places become.

I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes.

Places that once felt like magic, where we were the only boat for miles, now fill with crowds, cameras, and drones. 

Pantanal, Brazil.

The quiet that once defined those places is replaced by engines, by pressure, by human presence.

Years ago, off Baja, I remember being completely alone. Just our boat, the ocean, and the animals. 

Now, the same waters are crowded with boats chasing the same story. 

And I get it, it’s part of what we do. It’s our job to tell the stories of these places, to show the world that they still exist, that they matter, that they deserve to stay wild for generations to come.

But I’ll be the first to admit, I am guilty of over sharing.

I’ve drawn too much attention to places that once felt sacred. 

My work has helped put them on the map, sometimes literally. And while I know my intention was good, that doesn’t erase the impact.

It’s a difficult truth to admit, but an important one.

Because when too many of us tell the same story, the story changes.

We mean well, but sometimes our love becomes pressure. Our storytelling becomes intrusion. 

Our presence, multiplied, can slowly erode the very thing that drew us there in the first place.

So I’ve learned:
Sometimes it’s okay to keep a secret.
You don’t have to tag the location.
You don’t have to explain how you found it.

Florida bobcat… exact location undisclosed

You don’t have to post everything.

Some encounters should stay just between you, your friends, and the wild.

It’s not about hoarding or gatekeeping. It’s about protection. 

Because no matter how much we care, human attention changes things, especially fragile, sacred places that weren’t built to hold it.

Giant Mako off California… exact location undisclosed.

I know no secret lasts forever. 

But for the few that do, do your part to keep them quiet, keep them safe, for as long as you can.

The world doesn’t need every detail… Sometimes it just needs your silence.

Thank you for reading our Blog.

*New Blogs posted 3–4 times a week. (sometimes more.)
Follow along for more stories, trip updates, and raw moments from the wild.

The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t Alone Anymore

The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t Alone Anymore

There was a moment, not dramatic, not even that loud, when it finally hit me: I wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

It wasn’t when I hit a certain number on social media. 

It wasn’t when the trips started selling out, or when my work got published. 

It was much quieter than that.

It was on the water. Early morning in the fog. Freezing cold. 

The water was flat calm…

That kind of silence that only exists when everyone’s watching nature with the same reverence you are feeling. 

We had a group of return guests, people who had seen me at my best and my worst, who’d followed me to different corners of the world not just for the wildlife, but because something in them trusted something in me.

I remember turning around on the boat to say something, and I caught this moment, one guest handing another a lens cloth, a quiet laugh between two people who’d only met days before. 

And it hit me… this is a tribe.

Not a fan base. Not clients. A Tribe.

People who show up raw. 

People who know that discomfort is part of the reward. 

People who wake up at 4am, sit for hours in silence, get sunburned and salt-soaked, all for the chance at seeing something wild.

Over the years, that tribe has grown. 

Some join once. 

Some return again and again. 

Some send me photos of their kids wearing SDM gear. 

Some email just to say “hi and how are you doing.”

I didn’t build this tribe by being perfect. 

I built it by showing up and loving what I do everyday. 

By chasing something I couldn’t fully explain, and sharing it with the world. 

And somewhere along the way, others started chasing it too.

So if you’ve ever joined me on a trip, sent a message, shared a photo, told a friend, you’re part of it.

And if you’re still looking for your people… we’re out there, waiting for you.

In the salt. In the silence. In the stories we tell when the trip is over.

Let’s go share an adventure together!

*New Blogs posted 3–4 times a week. (sometimes more.)
Follow along for fresh stories, trip updates, and raw moments from the wild.

This Isn’t Home… And That’s the Whole Point

There’s something special about the kind of travel that takes you way off the beaten path, into the wild corners of the world where Wi-Fi barely exists, roads are bumpy, and the accommodations are anything but five-star.

Maybe it's a remote village.
Maybe it's a yurt on a hillside.
Maybe it's a dive boat in the middle of the ocean.

Whatever the case, it’s not home.

And that’s exactly why you’re there.

But here’s the thing a lot of travelers forget… you don’t get raw beauty and untouched nature without giving something up.

Some of these places run on generators. Water has to be trucked in. Food supplies are inconsistent. Internet is spotty… if it exists at all. 

And yes, lizards might share your room and you might have frogs in the shower.

And that's just part of it.

I’ve stayed in places where the power went out mid-dinner. Where hot water was a luxury, and A/C was wishful thinking. 

I’ve seen owners of these remote lodges hustling at all hours, juggling fuel deliveries, food runs, and last-minute repairs — so their guests could have the trip of a lifetime.

All while silently hoping that when something does go wrong (as it inevitably will), it doesn’t result in a harsh online review.

These people are building their dream… so you can experience yours.

And they’re doing it in places where nothing is easy.

So cut them some slack. Don’t show up expecting the comforts of your hometown or the polished shine of a U.S. hotel. 

The wild places you visit are raw, wonderful and sometimes wildly inconvenient.

I once heard a tour guide in the Amazon say something that stuck with me:

“Some people travel, but they never really leave home.
They try to bring it with them, and then complain when they don’t find it.”

And when something goes wrong — the boat breaks down, the hotel runs out of water, the power’s out, they fall apart.

But if you can let go a little...

If you can breathe through the discomfort, laugh at the frogs, and embrace the imperfection...

That’s when the magic shows up.

That’s when you find what you came for.

So next time you travel to the edge of the world, bring your sense of wonder, and your patience.

You came for wild skies, salty air, and nights under unfamiliar stars.

The people running these places don’t have it easy.

They’re doing their best in a tough corner of the world, so that YOU can have the trip of a lifetime.

So say thank you. Be kind. And remember… paradise isn’t perfect. 

But it’s worth it.

*New Blogs posted 3–4 times a week. (sometimes more.)
Follow along for fresh stories, trip updates, and raw moments from the wild.