The Bag I Used to Carry

For the first three years I shot seriously, I traveled with a backpack that was essentially a rolling protest against minimalism. Wide-angle zoom. Standard zoom. Telephoto prime. Filters. Two batteries. A tripod. An ND filter kit. A flash I rarely used. Backup cables. Card reader.

My back hurt. I was constantly making decisions. Wide or tele? Should I switch? Did I miss the shot because I had the wrong lens? Was the photo I just took actually better with the other one? I was so deep in gear logistics that I was experiencing the place through a kind of fog — always half in my own head, calculating, optimizing.

I got good photos. But I was exhausted by the end of every day, and looking back, I'm not sure the photos were better for all the choice I had.

The Experiment

I was traveling through Colombia alone. I'd just arrived in Salento with a full kit as usual. On the second morning, I made a decision: leave everything except the camera body and one lens. The Sigma 24-70 Art. Nothing else.

My instinct the first hour was to wish I had more reach. There was a bird I wanted to photograph. I couldn't get close enough. I let it go. And then something shifted. I stopped mentally running through what I'd left in the hotel. I started actually looking at what was in front of me.

By noon I had shots I liked more than anything I'd taken that week. Not because the lens was magical — it's the same lens I'd used before. But because I was fully present in the scene instead of partly present and partly inside a gear calculation.

What Fewer Options Actually Does

Constraints force creativity in a way that options don't. When you have one focal length, you learn to work with it. You move closer. You find a different angle. You wait for the right moment instead of trying to solve the problem with a longer lens from where you're standing.

The photographers I most admire historically were often even more constrained — one camera, one or two films, no instant review. They developed an intuition for the scene that I think comes partly from not having the option to fix it later with different gear.

There's also the social dimension. A big lens and a full kit signals "serious photographer" in a way that makes some subjects uncomfortable. A smaller, less conspicuous setup often gets you closer to candid moments — people relax when they don't feel like they're being documented.

What I Actually Carry Now

It depends on the trip. For city travel and street photography, I carry the camera body and one lens — usually the 24-70 or sometimes a 50mm prime. That's it. For dedicated wildlife or nature trips, I'll bring the telephoto. But I decide before I leave the hotel what I'm shooting that day and bring only what I need for that.

The tripod stays home unless I'm specifically planning long-exposure work. I've never regretted not having it on a general travel day. I've frequently regretted carrying it.

This isn't a rule. Some shoots genuinely require a full kit. But those shoots should be deliberate choices, not defaults. The question isn't "what might I need?" — it's "what do I actually need for what I'm trying to shoot today?"

The Real Lesson

The best camera is the one you have with you. Everyone's heard this about smartphones vs DSLRs. But it applies to lens selection too. The best lens is the one you can use quickly, confidently, without second-guessing. Extra options feel like safety. Often they're just weight — physical and cognitive.

If you find yourself unhappy with your travel photos, more gear is almost never the answer. More presence usually is.