Where the Wild Heals You

There’s something about stepping into the wild that reminds you how much noise you’ve been carrying.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a remote jungle, a cold sea, or a quiet trail.

When you get far enough away from the static, something in you begins to settle.

To breathe.

You remember what it feels like to exist without trying so hard.

I’ve seen it happen again and again on an expedition.

People arrive with the weight of their world still clinging to them.

Shoulders tight. Eyes tired. Minds buzzing.

And then, day by day, the wild starts peeling it all away.

There’s no performance out there.

No inbox. No image to maintain.

Just water, sky, dirt, wind… and your place in it.

But let’s be honest.

Nature isn’t some gentle therapist.

She doesn’t offer soft landings or Disney endings.

The wild can be harsh. Cruel, even.

Out there, life is won in inches.

Weather turns fast. Predators hunt. Death is part of the rhythm.

And yet, we still go.

We crave her anyway.

Because even in her brutality, there’s honesty.

No sugarcoating. No pretending. Nature doesn't lie to you.

She shows you the truth of things, yours included.

And when you stand in that truth, you feel something ancient inside you wake up.

Something that reminds you… you’re still here.

Sometimes healing happens in a slow sunrise.

Sometimes it happens in the moment you realize you haven’t checked your phone in hours.

Sometimes it happens in the silence, when you realize you don’t need to fill it.

We’re not designed to be this overstimulated.

We’re not built to scroll all day and wonder why we feel numb.

We’re supposed to be in it, moving, sweating, noticing.

Nature doesn’t judge you.

It doesn’t care how many mistakes you’ve made.

It just invites you back.

Back to presence. Back to peace. Back to yourself.

And somewhere out there, between salt and silence, between light and breath, you feel it.

That tug.

That remembering.

That quiet, steady voice whispering…“You’re okay. You’re home.”

*New Blogs posted 3–4 times a week. (sometimes more.)
Follow along for fresh 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.

Portraits vs. Behavior in Wildlife Photography

Mountain Gorilla off Bwindi, Uganda.

Wildlife photography is more than just getting close.

More than just a sharp image.

More than a subject filling the frame with perfect light and perfect posture.

Don’t get me wrong, a beautiful portrait of an animal is powerful.

It can stop someone in their tracks.

It shows presence. Detail. Intimacy.

It’s an introduction to an animal, sometimes eye-to-eye, that says “Look at me. I’m real.”

Crossfox off Churchill, Canada.

But then there’s another kind of image, the one that doesn’t just show what the animal looks like…
It shows who the animal is.

That’s where behavioral photography comes in.

Sailfish hunt and feed on a swirling baitball of sardines off Magdalena Island, Mexico.

Portrait-style wildlife photography is about isolation and simplicity. You’re highlighting the animal itself, the way the light hits its face, the expression, the texture of the fur or feathers.

Red and Green Macaw, Sink hole, Bonito Brazil.

A good portrait can make you feel like you’re in the presence of the animal.

A great one can make you feel seen by it.

These are the kinds of shots that do well on covers, prints, or as iconic representations of a species.

They’re necessary.

They’re powerful.

And sometimes, they’re hard as hell to get.

But a portrait only tells part of the story.

Two brother polar bears, wrestle and play fight in the Churchill River, Canada.

Then there are the images that show you something happening, a moment unfolding.

Two animals interacting.

A mother protecting her calf.

A predator hunting.

A mobula ray breaching.

Even something small, like a yawn, a tail slap, or a subtle look between two individuals.

A lone male hippo yawns in a territorial display, defending his muddy waterhole in Uganda.

These shots draw you in differently.

You don’t just see the animal, you see a glimpse of its world.

Its instincts.

Its relationships.

Its intelligence.

Its role in the ecosystem.

You’re not just admiring the subject… You’re witnessing a story.

Jaguar catches and kills a yellow anaconda. The snake fighting for its life off the Northern Pantanal, Brazil.

Portraits connect us emotionally. Behavior shows us meaning.

But the behavior shots stick longer, because they reveal something we didn’t already know.

They educate as much as they inspire.

And they often take more time, more patience, and more understanding of wildlife to get right.

You can take a beautiful portrait in a few seconds if the animal cooperates.

But a true behavioral image? That’s earned.

Nurse shark hunting garden eels off Bimini, Bahamas. Sucking sand and water out with its powerful suction to get to the fish.

When I’m out in the field, I shoot both.

But I always find myself more fulfilled by the behavior images.

Those moments feel like I was trusted enough to witness something real.

The portrait pulls the viewer in… The behavior tells them why they should stay.

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

When a Whale Chooses You: The Difference Between Connection and Escape

Humpback whale, mom and calf.

Not every whale wants to interact with you.

Some do. Most don’t.

And learning to recognize the difference is one of the most important things a wildlife guide, or guest, can ever learn.

Because not all encounters are created equal.

Whales are masters of silent communication.

And if they want to avoid you, they’ll make it known.

Blue whale

As the boat approaches, they’ll do one of two things:

They’ll dive immediately… or they’ll change direction.

And every time you try to approach, they just keep turning… keeping distance between you and them.

If you try to jump in ahead of them, thinking you’ll intercept, they already know.

Their senses are extraordinary, they feel your presence before you even hit the water. And in response, they dive deep or shift course, well before you get close.

These are not just reactions. They’re messages.
They’re saying, “Not today.”

On days like that, the most respectful thing you can do is stay on the boat. Watch from a distance. Let them be.

And who knows, after a while, they might change their mood.

They might decide they’re curious.

They might come closer.

Grey whale

But if they don’t, that’s okay too.

Send up the drone. Watch from above. Soak it all in.

Enjoy the encounter the way the whale wants to be experienced, without intrusion, without pressure, without needing more.

Because just watching a whale move freely through its world is still a gift.

Then… there’s the other kind of encounter.

The one where the whale chooses you.

It approaches slowly, without fear.

It adjusts to your presence instead of veering away.

Maybe it circles.

Maybe it stops.

Maybe it looks you in the eye, and in that moment, you know:

sperm whales

You’ve been accepted.

A whale that chooses to interact with you is a gift from God.

There is no greater underwater thrill than a whale that wants to engage, to play, to observe, to share space with you in the blue.

I’ve had beluga whales come so close I thought we were going to touch foreheads, one even peered directly into my mask, staring into it because it wanted to see my eyes.

That kind of curiosity you never forget.

beluga whale

I once had a Bryde’s whale with the zoomies, swimming under the boat, looping around us again and again, for over two hours. It was definitely playing with us, and I jokingly swear, the whale was making car noises as it zipped past us.

Right whales. Sperm whales. Humpbacks… I’ve been in the water with them all when they’ve made it clear… they wanted to play.

Some encounters were so intimate, we had to swim backwards just to avoid touching them, because they kept trying to get closer, to touch us.

Not out of aggression, but out of pure curiosity.

It is the stuff of dreams.

Right whale

And speaking of touch, there’s nothing quite like the experience in Magdalena Bay, Mexico.

Swimming with gray whales isn’t allowed there, but they still come.

They approach the boats, because they want to be touched.

They roll.

They lift up their heads.

They offer themselves to us.

And when a whale offers connection like that, not because you chased it, but because it chose you.

It’s one of the greatest experiences this life has to offer.

grey whale

Understanding the line between a whale that’s curious and one that’s uncomfortable is the difference between being a tourist and being a respectful guest.

It’s the difference between a good encounter… and a great one.

Between having a story to tell… and having an experience that changes you.

Brydes whale

So…

Read the body language. Respect the energy.

If the whales not interested, leave them alone.

If it is, be present, be grateful, and enjoy the moment.

Because the best interactions happen not when you swim toward the whale…

But when the whale swims toward you.

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

Expect the Unexpected: The Real Magic of Wildlife Expeditions

I get asked all the time: “What’s the best time of year to guarantee orca sightings?” or “Are we definitely going to see jaguars?”

And while I get the excitement, and I share it, there’s something every wildlife traveler needs to understand before they pack their bags:

Wildlife doesn’t follow scripts.

No matter how much planning we do, how perfect the timing is, or how dialed-in the location may be… wildlife does what it wants.

That’s the magic.
And…
that’s also the challenge.

I’ve led trips where we didn’t see any orcas, even though they were there the day before we arrived, and then watched guests lose their minds with excitement over a Bryde’s whale feeding on a baitball, changing the entire vibe of the trip.

I’ve had guests disappointed for the first half of a journey, only to witness something they never expected, something more meaningful than what they came for.

We’ve missed giant anteaters and found jaguars instead.
We’ve searched for sperm whales and been surprised by a five hour session with pilot whales.
We’ve gone looking for orangutans… and ended up face-to-face with a herd of 100+ pygmy forest elephants.

So always be ready for the wild card.

When You Travel for Wildlife, Travel for Wonder… Not Control

If you come on one of our trips expecting to check boxes or recreate something you saw in a photo or documentary, you might be setting yourself up for disappointment.

But if you arrive with your heart wide open, curious, patient, and willing to embrace the unexpected, you’ll almost always walk away with something that stays with you forever.

What You Can Control

Your attitude. Be flexible. The weather might shift. The animals might not show up on cue. But the adventure is still out there.

Your presence. Let go of pressure. Be in the moment. Sometimes the best encounter is the one you almost miss because you’re too focused on what should happen.

Your ability to roll with it. When things go sideways, and they occasionally do, that’s often when the best stories are born.

So next time you pack your gear for a wildlife trip, pack a little extra space, for whatever wild card nature decides to throw your way.

And…

My Best Advice?

Don’t chase the highlight reel.
Chase the feeling. The spontaneous moments. The beautiful surprises.
Chase the way the ocean breathes when the animals finally show up.
Chase the way the jungle holds its breath just before something appears.

Because out there, in the middle of nowhere, with the wind in your face and your expectations left behind…That’s when the magic finds you.

Thank you for reading.

*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.


Wild Stories, Campfire Conversations, and the People Who Get It

There’s something magical that happens when you get a bunch of wildlife people in the same place. Doesn’t matter if it’s at a bar, on a boat between dives, or sitting on folding chairs next to a camp fire, the stories start flowing.

We talk about animals, always.

The ones we’ve seen. The ones that got away. The ones we dream of seeing.

Someone brings up narwhals. Someone else chimes in about jaguars in the Pantanal. Suddenly we’re deep in a conversation about baitball dives in Baja, snow leopards in Mongolia, or the best way to photograph a crocodile without getting bit.

These are my favorite moments.

It’s not just about the animals, it’s about the people who love them.

People who think nothing of hiking for days, diving into cold water, or sitting still for hours just for the chance to be near wildlife. These are my people. And when we trade stories, ideas, and plans — it lights something up in me.

Then the camera talk starts.
What lens did you use for that shot?
Regular wide angle or fisheye?
“Do you go all-in for that curved look, or keep it classic and clean"

We geek out, no shame. Settings, sensors, shutters, sun angles. This is our language.

We swap gear tips. Locations. Talk about permits, timing, behavior, ethics, and instinct.
But more than anything, we remind each other why we do this.

It’s about connection. Not just to the animals, but to each other.

So here’s to the campfire chats.
The late-night idea swaps.
The “what if we went here?” and the “you’ve gotta see this place.”

If you’ve ever shared stories like that with me, thank you.
And if you haven’t yet… I hope we get to sit around and talk about wild things someday soon.

Back in Baja – Two Weeks Left of Magic

10PM. Trying to get some sleep but my clock is off. Today my day began with a 5am flight from Texas to Baja.

Long travel day, but totally worth it the moment I stepped off the plane and felt that familiar Baja breeze, or lack there of. There’s something about this place that instantly grounds you; the light, the air, the energy.

I Love Mexico!

Tomorrow, our guests arrive, and on Monday we kick off a brand-new week of diving. With just two weeks left in our season, we’re fully present for every moment. These will be our final Baja trips before we head off to the next location.

We have 12 days to find as much wildlife in the Sea of Cortez as possible, including my dream: photographing orcas hunting mobula rays. It’s one of nature’s most elusive events, and every day out here gives us another chance to witness something extraordinary.

As always, we’re hoping for favorable conditions, smooth seas, and an ocean full of life.

Our team is ready to help us find amazing things, the vibes are high, and cameras are fully dialed in (Gloria is itching to go!), we are prepped for anything the wild decides to throw our way.

And just like previous trips, I’ll be sharing daily trip reports throughout the experience. If you missed the first four, you can catch up anytime by visiting our Dailys Page.

This is it. The final stretch. Can’t wait!

Two more weeks in one of the most amazing places on Earth... going to make every day count.

🦈 The Shark That Changed Everything

Bull Shark off Playa Del Carmen, MX. 1/320, f10, ISO 1000

It was my very first ocean dive. I was in Cozumel, Mexico, drifting clumsily over the reef, still overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all; the colors, the movement, the vastness. I was a new diver, wide-eyed and breathing way too fast, trying to take it all in.

Then my divemaster pointed down.
And there it was.

A bull shark, cruising calmly near the bottom.

I was flooded with emotion, awe, fear, curiosity, all mixed together. Part of me wanted to swim toward it, to see it closer. Another part of me wanted to turn and get out of the water as fast as I could.

All I knew about sharks at that time was what I had learned from movies and the media: that sometimes, they eat people.

Lemon Shark getting it’s teeth cleaned off Tiger Beach, Bahamas, i/320, f9, ISO 800

Shortly after that moment, my tank ran low, a classic rookie mistake. I was breathing too hard, too fast. And instead of surfacing with me, my dive master sent me up alone.

Such a terrible thing to do with a new diver.

Blue Shark off Cabo San Lucas, MX. 1/320, f9, ISO 1000

I’ll never forget floating there on the open surface, alone, terrified, staring down into the deep blue, knowing there was a shark somewhere below me. I had no idea where the boat was.

It took a while for the boat to find me, or at least it felt like it took a while.

The boat eventually found me. As I sat there catching my breath, my mind was racing.

Why didn’t the shark come after us?
Why didn’t it rise up and eat me?
Why? Why? Why?

Oceanic Whitetip off Dominica Island, Caribbean. 1/320, f9, ISO 1250

And that was it.
That moment, that one encounter… it changed everything.

Because everything I thought I knew about sharks was wrong.

And I needed to know more.

That single dive, over 26 years ago, sent me on a path that I’m still walking today. I’ve spent decades diving with sharks around the world, and I’m still asking questions.

Caribbean Reef Sharks off Tiger Beach Bahamas. 1/320, f9, ISO 500

Because the more I know, the more I realize how little I know.

And that’s what I love most about these animals.

They keep me curious, they keep me humble… and they keep me coming back for more.

Conservation Starts in Your Backyard

We often think of conservation as something that happens in distant lands, deep in the Amazon, under Arctic ice, or on remote coral reefs.

But the truth is, conservation begins much closer to home.

It starts in our backyards, in the spaces just beyond our doorsteps. And what we do in these small spaces matters far more than most of us realize.

Nature is deeply connected.

What happens in your yard, your neighborhood, your town, ripples outward.

The fertilizer you use, the trees you plant (or cut down), the wildlife you welcome or chase away... it all echoes beyond your fence line.

Where I live in South Texas, we were once one of the world’s top bird-watching destinations. Our skies were filled with vibrant migrations, hundreds of species passing through, season after season.

But I’ve seen it change… Fast.

Habitat destruction, the heavy use of pesticides, and the disappearance of wild spaces are pushing our birds away, or worse, pushing them to extinction. Every year, the number of birds that make their way through here shrinks.

It’s not a slow fade anymore… It’s alarming.

And it’s not just birds. Insects. Mammals. Reptiles. It’s all connected.

A bird loses its nesting ground because we removed a native tree. That loss affects the insects it feeds on, the predators that rely on it, and the plants that relied on its movement for pollination.

It’s a domino effect… And we’re seeing those dominos fall.

I’ve spent years traveling the world photographing wildlife, from gorillas in Uganda to polar bears in the Arctic. And I’ve learned that the health of the wildest places is directly influenced by the choices we make in the tamest ones.

We’re part of this system too.

The more we care for the patch of earth we’re standing on, the more likely we are to protect the rest of it.

Conservation doesn’t just belong to scientists or global organizations. It belongs to all of us.

So let’s start small.

Let native plants grow wild. Put up a water bowl for the birds. Skip the pesticides.

Teach your kids to love snakes instead of fear them. Celebrate the raccoons and coyotes and opossums that pass through your neighborhood.

They’re part of the web too.

Because when you care for your backyard, you’re not just helping your local ecosystem, you’re helping the planet… One connected piece at a time.