Part I: Companions
The days are finally starting to start and end greyer, a massive win for both photographic light and ambient temperature. I fell asleep by 9:20 PM last night and managed just under 8 hours of quality rest. Even so, I still haven't completely tapped into my compounding sleep debt, as my 5:30 AM alarm went off and left me feeling paralyzed.
During the morning routine, I spent some time with two volunteers I met a few days ago, Katie and Jake. They have been traveling for almost six months, focusing their time heavily on wildlife conservation efforts for elephants and sea turtles. They have been living at the park on and off for a couple of months, amassing over 40,000 photos across 6 SSDs. They have even traveled to Cambodia and Laos to document other elephant protection projects started by Lek, and in December tagged along for a double elephant rescue operation. They are in the final stages of compiling an educational photojournalistic book exposing the abusive realities of riding operations and captive elephant farms, with proceeds going to the Save The Elephants foundation.
They joined Typhoon and me for another high-energy morning of sprinting, ducking, dodging, and crawling through the fields. My creative cup is completely full again. As we walked past the main viewing platform, Robbi yelled down to playfully ask if this has become my strategy for skipping out on shoveling manure. I assured her I would happily shovel as much as required in exchange for this opportunity.
Typhoon's eye proved invaluable, as he guided me toward unique compositions and even coordinated with the mahouts to scatter corn on a distant ridge to naturally migrate one herd into the soft morning backlighting. He also granted the three of us access to an off-limits flower garden for the vantage point. The resulting frames are easily some of my all-time favorite wildlife shots thanks to a small relocation of their breakfast buffet.
Part II: The Slowness of Giants
There is something profoundly grounding about simply sitting back and watching these creatures navigate their world. I could spend hours observing their distinct personalities and emotional cues. They move with an elegant, deliberate slowness, which is a striking contrast to the reality that I stand no chance in a foot race.
I finally joined my volunteer cohort for the morning work activity, which was weeding. If you’ve ever wondered how 250 acres doesn’t become overgrown, this is your answer. By the time I arrived with my camera gear, the section was already half completed, and the team was visibly relieved to see another set of hands. I grabbed a hoe and dug in. Fortunately, we were working in a rare pocket of shade, but the humidity was still suffocating, and again my shirt was drenched within the first fifteen minutes. Our guide called the shift at 10:30 AM, opening up a 3-hour midday block before the even more grueling afternoon assignment.
I was entirely unprepared for the physical demands of our PM task: knitting.
Yes, hand-sewing large blankets. Even elephants require extra insulation during the colder December nights. The park receives donations of small, square panels of woven yarn, and it is up to the staff and volunteers to stitch them together into massive quilts. Who knew my first time weaving yarn would be for a 4 ton mammal?
Part III: The Elephant Whisperer
As we wrapped up the sewing project on the second floor of the main platform, the clouds darkened, the wind picked up, and the temperature dropped. For the first time since arriving in Thailand, the air felt genuinely pleasant. Looking down into the fields, I noticed the park's founder, Lek, walking out with a herd. I spotted Jake, Katie, and Typhoon tracking alongside her. FOMO devoured me, and I called Typhoon to check if I could join, and he confirmed I was cleared for the field.
Witnessing the reciprocal love between Lek and these elephants is entirely indescribable. A few mahouts stood silently along the perimeter. Nobody said a word, and we tiptoed around the clearing in absolute silence. She genuinely functions as the elephant whisperer.
I caught some beautiful frames, and for the first time all week, I returned from the field dry. Satiated from the shoot, I treated myself to a $10 massage before wandering down to the dining area, where Lek was quietly chatting with Jake and Katie at their table and invited me to join.
Part IV: The Night Watchers
After dark, I set up an improvised workspace at the outdoor tables to write and attempt to reinvent my culling workflow (organizing, sorting, and reviewing all images). Trying to sort through 5,000 high-res images on an aging iPad is forcing my hand in alternative methods.
Bill dropped by my table for a long conversation. I found myself opening up to him more and more about my adult burnout and life patterns. He asks excellent, deeply curious questions, to the point where I have likely disclosed as much to him as I have to my therapist back in Seattle.
While this outdoor setup was a massive upgrade from my room, which lacks a basic table and chair, the evening insects quickly became insufferable. I cranked the floor fan to high, but the bright glare of my screen and my own body heat acted as a lighthouse for the night shift. Not even the cool breeze and fresh air could justify staying out there. I packed up my gear and retreated back to the primitive confines of my room to shower (again) and hit the hay. Thankfully, there is no 7:00 AM photography rendezvous on the books tomorrow.
