Like most people, I’ve always loved to travel. After working as a landscape photographer for a few years, the idea of taking a long trip was always on my mind. I wasn’t just looking to explore beautiful places anymore; I wanted to capture them in the best way possible with my camera.
To do so, there was much back and forth, uncertainties, and fears. After leaving jobs, friendships, and family behind, we set off on our biggest dream: my partner, our two dogs, and I traveling through Argentina for at least a year in a camper. This gave ourselves the chance to do something different — no defined destination, no timeframe, no plans.
I’m not here to romanticize camper life or the vague notion of “letting go to be happy.” Life in a motorhome isn’t as simple as one might imagine when seeing others do it. In this article, I want to share what traveling has taught me as a photographer: sometimes, spontaneity leads to better photos than meticulous planning.
Our idea was (and still is) to not have a fixed direction, adjusting our route day by day depending on our desire to see a particular place and, more importantly, on how we felt. We realized that the best part wasn’t always being in stunning landscapes but, rather, being in places where we felt comfortable. Sometimes that meant the solitude of the mountains, a beach where we could sleep to the sound of whales, or even a gas station. We learned to adapt our trip not to the landscapes but to our feelings and needs in the moment.
Starting from Buenos Aires, we headed to the Atlantic coast, visiting some of the simplest and most boring places for landscape photography: endless beaches with nothing but sand and water.
Oddly enough, this was exactly the kind of place I needed to reconnect with my camera, which I hadn’t used in months. There was still a bittersweet feeling from having left everything behind, and it seemed like my camera was the reason for it.
Being in a place where I knew it would be difficult to capture a great photo freed me from the pressure, and I finally managed to take some coastal shots I’m really happy with. This rekindled my enthusiasm and desire to seek out new images. The feeling I had during those days at the beach was special: not having a concrete plan seemed to work better than my past experiences, where every photography outing was carefully planned. So, I wanted to recreate that experience with each new shoot.
We continued south, entering Patagonia on the seaside, where the beaches are beautiful, with crystal clear but very cold waters. When most people hear “Patagonia,” they think of mountains, snow, and the Andes, but the eastern side of Argentina has vast plains, cliffs, abundant marine life, and expansive stretches of sea bordered by sand and seashells.
While this area doesn’t have large dune fields, the few that do exist are fascinating. We spent several days in the dunes of Bahía Creek, where the sun, at certain times of the day, lights up the sand hills in a way that enhances their shapes, creating a play of light and shadow that adds volume to the landscape. At midday, the scenery seemed dull, but during the golden hours, the light brought the dunes to life.
Again, there were no plans — just a focus on finding these forms during any time other than midday. With a telephoto lens, I isolated parts of the landscape, concentrating solely on shapes, colors, and contrasts.
One of the most surprising moments we experienced in southeastern Argentina was encountering whales almost by accident. The franca austral whale comes to Península Valdés to breed and nurse their young, an incredible natural spectacle visible just a few meters from the coast. Thanks to the flexibility our camper gave us, we were able to spend several days watching them and living just meters away, even sleeping to the sound of their songs.
In the permitted areas, I flew my drone (a basic one) to take some shots I thought would merely serve as memories. However, with the help of the sunset light, calm waters, and a large family of whales, I captured images I ended up really liking.
Our original idea was to reach Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, but the coastal landscapes continued to amaze us so much that we couldn’t travel more than a few kilometers each week. It became clear that not only were we traveling without plans, but we were also photographing without them. The images turned out more interesting, and I felt more at ease with this new approach to work. I enjoyed the process so much more.
As we ventured further south, the cold started to set in. Some nights were so cold we had to keep the propane tank inside the camper to prevent it from freezing so that we could keep the heater running. In these southern towns, fishing is a primary activity. Although I generally avoid including human elements in my images, I must admit that some boats made for excellent subjects.
The nights in Patagonia also have something special. The stars seem to shine brighter than anywhere else in Argentina. One extremely cold night in southern Santa Cruz province, I had the chance to take a night shot at Laguna Azul, an inactive volcano with a lagoon in its crater.
In this case, the photo was somewhat planned, as I had forecasted the Milky Way’s position over the lagoon, but what I was about to witness was completely unplanned: a green sky. At first, I thought my white balance was off, but while editing the RAW file, I realized it was a rare phenomenon called airflow.
After several months, we finally made it to Ushuaia. Even though it was summer, the weather was cold, windy, and unpredictable. Nature was welcoming us to the far south of the planet.
In Tierra del Fuego, the wind shapes the trees in a unique way, creating unimaginable curves in their trunks. I had seen photos of these trees and was eager to photograph them, thinking it would be easy to get good compositions, but it wasn’t that simple. I managed to capture some nice images, but my favorite was a series of not-so-twisted trees that formed a pattern of color and shapes that I loved.
What stood out to me the most was that, even though it was summer, the trees had autumn colors and few leaves, perhaps indicating that this summer had been harsher and colder than usual.
We spent a month exploring the lands of Tierra del Fuego before the idea of visiting El Chaltén, Argentina’s national trekking capital, started to come up in our conversations. Leaving Tierra del Fuego, we knew we were just a few kilometers away from one of the most amazing places to do landscape photography.
On a cloudy hike, Mount Poincenot briefly revealed itself between a sea of clouds. Using a telephoto lens, I was able to compress the only two visible layers and capture this photo.
This journey, aside from being a unique experience, taught me that you don’t always need to plan everything to get good results. Sometimes, letting yourself be guided by the moment and staying open to what’s around you is the best approach.
