A Day in My Life as a Landscape Photographer

Before coming to Bali, one place I had been longing to photograph was Tukad Cepung Waterfall. Its famous "God rays" have spread widely across Instagram. As someone who is deeply sensitive to light and shadow, I chose this waterfall as the first landscape photography canvas of my journey in Bali.

Surprisingly, it took me more than two weeks after arriving in Bali before I finally visited it. It certainly wasn't because I was lazy, nor was it because I had lost interest in photography.

So why did I wait more than half a month before making the trip to Tukad Cepung?

The answer is simple: I was waiting for weather and light that were good enough to justify taking the risk.

By "risk," I don't only mean the financial cost of the trip. I also mean the physical risks that come with hiking into remote locations. I once fell while preparing to photograph at Lion Rock in Hong Kong, and the injury forced me to rest for two weeks. Even with painkillers, the pain was so intense that I could barely sleep.

Of course, every worthwhile pursuit carries some degree of risk. If I insisted on waiting for perfect light and one hundred percent certainty before setting out, I would never photograph anything at all.

Done is more important than perfect.

So I let go of my ideal vision of perfection and chose instead to make a trade-off between risk and reward. After carefully studying the forecast, I saw that the morning of 3 August 2026 had a high probability of clear skies, so I arranged for my driver to pick me up on time and take me to the waterfall.

Tukad Cepung Waterfall opens at 7:00 a.m., and the drive takes about an hour. That meant leaving at 6:00 a.m. Throughout the journey, I kept watching the sky, wondering whether the sunlight would illuminate the waterfall exactly as I had hoped.

After arriving, I paid the entrance fee and walked inside. If there was one slight disappointment, it was that the place was even more commercialized than I had expected. Numerous souvenir stalls lined the path, taking away some of the sense of adventure. After a walk of around ten minutes, I finally reached the waterfall itself.

After changing into my water shoes, I set up my tripod and prepared my camera. Without much hesitation, I chose a small stream as my foreground. I planted the Gitzo tripod that I had specifically brought for this trip directly into the water, accepting the possibility that my camera could fall in. Once the camera was mounted, I carefully adjusted my settings. Since my Sony A6000 doesn't have a fully articulating screen for vertical compositions, I had no choice but to sit directly in the stream just to check my images.

Even then, the most important subject—the light—had yet to arrive.

So I waited patiently.

One by one, more visitors arrived and lined up to take photos. I began to feel slightly anxious because the composition I had carefully chosen was easily interrupted by people walking into the frame. It wasn't the image I had envisioned.

Fortunately, after the largest crowds had left and only a handful of visitors remained, I recognized my opportunity. I politely asked the remaining visitors for a brief moment to take my photograph.

That was the moment this image was born.

I am deeply grateful that everything unfolded almost exactly as I had planned.