GoPro reigns supreme in extreme sport photography. The quality is remarkable (say the experts) and it offers all manner of shock proof and waterproof protection to withstand any ride, a perfect way to share your exhilarating moments in dramatic close-up. And yet I persist in using my staid mobile phone camera to take distant pictures of others at play. Why?
I have used a GoPro. Seven years ago in Sal, part of the Cape Verde islands off the coast of West Africa, I dedicated an afternoon to capture footage of me windsurfing. The conditions were flat and friendly. I sailed along the shore to be alone, somewhere I would be comfortable putting myself in the spotlight (I did not have to go far because the island is basically a desert). I have not used a GoPro since.
I behave differently on camera – I think all people do – so the captured experience is not really mine. Some cultures believe photographs steal their soul, and there’s a little bit of that, knowing you’re creating a permanent image of yourself (you or what you’re doing) that is not actually you. This admittedly immature feeling is compounded by the very emotional nature of sports, where what you remember is so much more than what you see, which leaves the images diluted and entirely unsatisfactory.
It’s not the same when I’m being photographed by someone else. I’m neither camera shy nor do I suffer from a twisted superiority complex about being photographed. I even have a favorite photo of me windsurfing hanging on my wall. But when it’s someone else taking the photo, it’s their experience not mine, so it’s not personal. Where the GoPro falls short is in failing to capture my experience, and that, despite advertising to the contrary, is not what it was designed to do.
So realizing that images I take of me are not really for me but actually for everyone else (it’s not always about me, all evidence to the contrary), I upgraded my GoPro and prepared for a second act at Waddell.
Unlike other beaches I’ve windsurfed, I had not yet seen anyone wear a GoPro at Waddell; that should have told me something. As I mentioned in the Windsurfing Waddell, the sailors are mostly local, have been going for years, and might think of the whole experience as routine. There could also be some bravado, that if you’re not good enough to be out there in the thick of things you don’t deserve to share in the experience. As it turns out, there was a much simpler explanation.
Since I would be fully occupied windsurfing, the GoPro had to work mostly automatically. I did not want to forage through hours of video footage to extract a few choice images, so I chose the burst photo mode that delivers a volley of pictures over a couple of seconds. I could choose when to take the picture, but did not have to be overly exact in the timing. I connected a remote control that I would wear on my wrist and, for good measure, activated the voice control feature. I adjusted the purpose-build headband that would hold the GoPro so it sees what I see. I made sure the whole thing was tied down securely with a rope under my chin. And I practiced at home, alternatively pressing the remote control button or shouting “GoPro Capture” (which turns out be quite a mouthful when you’re under intense stress). I was finally ready.
And so the next day, I launched at Waddell, my brand new finely tuned GoPro feeling heavy on my forehead, and I recorded some brilliant footage. The imposing waves marching towards me as I sailed out through the break, the fiery luminescence of the ocean as I zoomed towards the horizon, the speed of riding the swell, the exhilarating view from the bottom turns, and the spray from the top turns. It was all there. Tiring, I dropped into a last wave, a chunky one that beckoned for something radical. I made my move, wiped out, was put through the ringer, and promptly lost the GoPro, headband, rope and all, including, of course, the footage. (For GoPro aficionados, Waddell has no cell signal that would allow an automatic upload.)
I took it well (what choice did I have), a definitive, loud-and-clear sign that my misgivings about GoPros were well founded and that GoProing was not for me. Well, time heals all wounds, and I have now re-purchased that damned device. I will be sharing footage of my third act soon; for you, not for me.
If this line of thinking sounds tortuous, I commiserate. A more direct tack is to accept that sharing is imperfect in any form, you do the best you can without concern for what others think. Or to paraphrase another passage in the inspiration for this chapter’s title, above all be true to yourself and then you will be true to others. Words to live by for less tortuous times.
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