
It wasn’t until I travelled abroad for a University program that I got my first camera and started documenting my travels via photojournalism or vlog. I have found that with time my memories become elusive and foggy – small moments were sweet to experience but the details were fleeting. So photography has become a type of memory preservation in an unwritten memoir. Many of those memories are made while enjoying the outdoors.
Each environment has its own unique beauty that draws me back to it. The Pacific Northwest is a special connection because it’s where I spent half of my life, and almost all of my childhood. Mount Rainier was the backyard for the town I grew up in, and was a spot where my family would spend a weekend hiking or playing in a snow-park. And the Santa Cruz coast has been my home a few different times in my life and the smell of salty air and eucalyptus fills me with nostalgia every time. It has been the perfect recipe for outdoor affection for me; a travelers playground. A few hour drive can take you from the Pacific waters, through the coastal redwoods, into valleys with towering mountains and end with you in the desert.
My travels are often spontaneous and frequent. It is not unusual for me to be exploring the coast of Big Sur on one weekend and then be backpacking in the Eastern Sierra Mountains the next. I have found that the activation stage to starting a new adventure or task can be the most difficult and that having free spiritedness not only benefits that start off but also cultivates a more unique experience. I attribute a lot of the energy behind this to my travel stoke. Being outside is my refuelling station. Climbing a mountain and feeling that natural high melts away the stressors that can come with everyday life. In the grandeur of the outdoors, I feel small and insignificant; it’s humbling. Not for the worthiness of myself or anyone else but because I am reminded that the self-involvement of humanity is trivial, like reputation or money.
Concluding the summer of 2019, there was a week where I had time off from work and decided that I wanted to spend it in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. Places that have been on top of my “infinite list of places to go” for years and never came to fruition. This would also become the first trip I would be taking alone. The idea of solo-travel had been something I had felt overwhelmed by. Other than planning out campsites, I allowed myself time to roam. My only concrete plans were to chase the sun. When I drove into Grand Tetons National Park it was 5 in the morning and not a cloud was in sight. The blue sky from dawn quickly faded as I drove south into the Park and saw the mountains for the first time. Towering shards of granite, kissed pale a pale pink hue; a grand, eternal show.
What made them special was that they were not just the great spectacles of the National Parks like Old Faithful but rather the unique moments along the way that I couldn’t have planned or expected- that’s what turns travelling into storytelling. I watched the Lamar wolf pack dance around Grizzley’s for their morning kill, met a baby moose as he and his mother passed me along a trail, and watched a mother bear show her babies how to swim.
I am driven by the pursuit of new activities in the outdoors. A lot of these moments in the outdoors have been the most memorable and have left lasting impressions. My first outdoor climb on the rock piles of Joshua Tree grew into my first multi-pitch in Pinnacles National Park this year, and my first backpacking trip on the coast of the Olympics has flourished into a love of hiking and planning my first thru-hike for later this year.
Beyond those wonderful 2020 plans, this year has significantly impacted the paths in my life. Rough waters that have come into my life since March, since COVID-19. Soon after California was put into quarantine, I lost my job in recreation and was forced into a time loop. My days consisted of nearly the routine- wake up, have tea, go on a run, apply for jobs, sleep, repeat. During the spring my time outside was nearly non-existent. Because of this, my spirits and energy took a hard beating and the anxiety that can mirror uncertainty was feverish.
A few months became double that time, and the summer of COVID became my first summer since I was 16 that I haven’t spent my entire summer working in outdoor recreation. When outdoor pursuits were allowed again, it became a necessity to get outside in any way possible.
Though the trials and tribulations, the time, this time, during COVID has given me a different mindset of the aspects in my life that bring me joy. I don’t want to spend my life needing the approval of others to feel a sense of self-worth or compare myself to others in the race of life. The only person that I am racing, is myself. I want to spend my life creating, seeking and learning. I want to use my legs while they are young and need to be stretched and to explore places that I have dreamed about. I refueled past passions into current endeavors like travel writing, watercoloring and design and have developed more ways to share the things that I create. I find the work of passionate artists magnetic. I was always surrounded by people in my life who had a certain spark behind their creativity. For me, creating consists of visuals and words. With travel writing specifically, I find it captivating in the way it can make the reader really feel. I want the work that I produce in writing and photography to be complimentary in stimulating that feeling.
We live in a time now where the outdoors is more accessible than ever, and people are actively choosing to go outside. Unfortunately, that change comes with a multitude of real concerns. Having a career in recreation as an outdoor educator and youth development, I give a lot of importance to experiencing the outdoors in a sustainable way. I believe a lot of people have an individualist complex that can sometimes lead to thinking ‘If I am the only person that does this, the impact is small’. ‘If I am the only person that writes my name on this tree, steps off this trail for a photo, or takes a sand dollar from this beach…’ there will be thousands more that will do the same. In time, there will be hundreds of names carved on that tree, trampled flowers or cut switchbacks just to get that same photo, and a beach with no sand dollars to enjoy.
Travel has allowed me to experience the perspectives of others and photography provides me a way to share those perspectives, as well as my own. To me, they are synonymous and two sides of the same coin that have developed together over time. By combining those I can experience and capture the positive impact of nature and the joy it provides me with, and share it with the world to spread the joy and raise awareness. At the end of my lifetime, I want to look back and be proud of the work that my generation has done to better our planet.
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Andy Rider is a passionate wildlife photographer and filmmaker based in South Africa, dedicated to capturing the raw beauty of nature while raising awareness about conservation. Inspired by legends like Steve Irwin, his journey began as a field guide, where he honed his skills and developed a deep respect for ethical wildlife photography.

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