My Complicated Relationship with the Outdoor Ecosystem

Working as Explora’s official media management and production partner has allowed me to experience some incredible moments.

Watching the first light break over a campsite. Following teams as they navigate unfamiliar terrains. Capturing the quiet moments, the laughter, the challenges, and the stories that unfold during leadership programs and expeditions.

I enjoy almost every part of it. I say almost because there appears to be one small issue. The outdoor ecosystem and I seem to have developed a rather complicated relationship.

You see, while most of the Explora team can spend an entire day outdoors and walk away with perhaps a bite or two and a casual “oh, I got bitten”, I somehow emerge looking like nature itself has specifically selected me for a field study. Mosquitoes, sandflies, any insect capable of detecting warmth, movement, or blood; somehow they always find their way to me. I’m not entirely sure what the attraction is. Apparently, there is a science behind all of this. Some studies suggest that people can genuinely be more susceptible to biting insects because of a mix of genetics, body chemistry and environmental cues. Mosquitoes and sandflies apparently track things like body heat, carbon dioxide, skin compounds and scent profiles to decide who gets selected for lunch. Which means there is a possibility that this isn’t bad luck at all.

Maybe years of outdoor work have transformed me into some rare luxury edition buffet. Which would be a hilarious quip if it wasn’t so tragic. You see, unfortunately for me, the problem does not stop at getting bitten. My body apparently reacts with a level of enthusiasm that feels wildly disproportionate to the situation. While normal people get a small bump and continue with life, mine occasionally decides to launch a full-scale leprosy episode. There have been times when the reaction became so dramatic that it actually required a hospital visit.

The challenge in all of this, of course, is when I am shooting. The timing is always impeccable. Mosquitoes seem to have a supernatural ability to appear the moment I need complete focus — crouched for a shot, balancing awkwardly on uneven terrain, or staying perfectly still for that one moment. That is usually when I feel those little effers’ arriving for lunch and I start having those little internal negotiations, sometimes monologues.

"Ignore it."
"Keep filming."
"The shot is worth it."

People often see the finished videos and photographs, the polished final moments that make it onto screens. But behind every shot are smaller stories nobody really sees. The early mornings. The long days. The carrying of gear. The chasing of moments that disappear in seconds.

And occasionally, making small involuntary contributions to the local ecosystem.