One afternoon in 2016, I was on my way to a physiotherapy session (with a particularly brutal, humourless and musclebound Polish physiotherapist) when I noticed that the light coming through the rainforest was quite pleasing. And seeing as I was quite early, I decided to park the motorbike and send my new drone up to get some Jurassic Park footage (I hoped).
The problem with rainforests, however, is they tend to be quite dense. A seamless canopy with no gaps in to send a drone through. So I started walking, on a shonky knee which had just been operated on, up and up this gruelling mountain trail, presuming there'd be a clearing round the next corner. Except there wasn't, not round the next corner or the one after. Not round any corners for about an hour.
And then I found it. A giant rock in the middle of the path surrounded by a treeless zone where there'd been a landslide. I called the physiotherapist to apologise. I called my girlfriend 8500 kms away to tell her how ridiculous I was and to send some love. And then I sent the drone out to start filming.
It was only when I got back home (after hobbling down the mountain in the dark with a cellphone torch to light my way) and looked at the footage that I realised: photography might not always pay the most, it might be lonely and difficult sometimes, but I was definitely on "A Path with Heart".
Self-help guru Jack Kornfield would be most proud, even if I did only manage to get through 23 pages of his book.