I love adventuring. It's probably one of my favorite things in the world. Planned or spontaneous, I'm almost always sure to have a good time. And a large part of the fun for me is photographing as much of the adventure as possible. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, considering that most of the adventures I go on happen at night, things aren't always as simple as they seem. Thankfully, I've gotten unnaturally good at capturing this world in pitch-black conditions. And with the right tools, it's possible to get some truly unique results.

This photo, captured in slightly moonlit conditions in Sunset Cliffs, San Diego, demonstrates perfectly what our eyes are missing once the sun goes down. And it wouldn't have been possible were it not for my new trusty tripod, the Zipshot by Tamrac. Don't get me wrong, it's still somewhat cumbersome having to carry around a tripod. But this is the smallest and easiest tripod I've found so far, and with a little practice, it does a lot of what I need a tripod to do anyway. While I'm not going to pretend that taking photos at night is easy, or that managing a full kit with the smallest load possible isn't difficult, having enough practice can result in magnificent results. And at this point, I can only hope to further improve my skills and camera hardware in order to find the perfect balance between portability and function.

In most circumstances, photography is 10% skill, and 90% luck. I've been saying that for years now. The main difference between an average photographer and a truly good photographer is how he/she reacts when luck does finally present itself. Those who have trained and practiced instinctively know how to respond in most any situation, allowing them to capture these rare scenes when they finally occur. Though I don't claim to be a truly good photographer by any means, I often find myself in circumstances where I am given an amazing opportunity to capture a moment. And when all the elements collide, I know I am in for a treat.

The photograph above is one such occurrence. Quite frankly, this photograph should not have happened. My original plans to go on an adventure last night were first challenged when I couldn't find anyone to take with me. Instead of letting it stop me, I went ahead and decided to go alone. Though my original destination was an overlook that looked quite promising, I was blocked by a series of closed gates and "Private Property" signs. My plans had changed, and I figured my chances of getting any photos that night had gone down the drain. Instead of turning around and going home, I checked the map on my phone, and found that I could keep going down the road I was on to eventually get home. The narrow and windy road took me on an awesome adventure down the side of a hill, where I decided to pull over at the spur of a moment and set up my tripod. After capturing a couple of fairly uninteresting starlit shots, I set up my camera for one last exposure. When I pressed the shutter button, there wasn't any trace of a car in sight. But right after the exposure started, I heard the faint sound of a lone car speeding down the switchbacks. As luck would have it, it entered the frame about halfway through the exposure, and exited the shot right as my shutter snapped shut. It was incredible and impossible to predict timing, and it resulted in a shot like nothing I had even expected.

Sometimes life surprises you. When I set out that night, I wasn't even sure if I was going to get a single interesting shot. But all of the factors aligned just right, and the outcome was far better than I could have ever imagined.

It's amazing what a single photograph can communicate about the world. This photo, for instance, was extremely simple in execution, but speaks wonders of the power of nature and whatever higher power you happen to believe in. Shot on a gray and cloudy day with little noticable excitement, very few individuals would ever even think about staring up at the sky for beauty. But there it was, this pattern in the clouds, a product of the heavens.

Since it was only there for a glancing moment in time, I didn't have a chance to grab a proper camera. But this image here, shot on my iPhone 3GS, gives the composition a push-processed grainy look that adds to the stunning beauty if the moment. And that is one of the joys of being a photographer. I don't just operate a fancy camera. All around me, I see things that others happen to simply miss. And using whatever tools I can, my only goal is to document this enlightened world I see in whatever way possible.

Everyone needs a contingency plan. Especially right now, my life is filled with growing uncertainty and dread at the very bleak future I will be dropped into once I finish my education. Chances are I'm not going to get an actual career anytime soon. And assuming that I can make it as far as a legitimate degree, I'm not sure if it's even possible to support myself and live on my own unless I magically find a dream job. Herein lies my backup plan:

(Photographs by Flickr user siddobson)

You are looking at a 1996 Winnebago Rialta, one of the smallest full-featured motor homes on the market. Inspired by blogger and all-around good-advice-giver Tynan, my plan involved purchasing one of these bad boys (around $19,000), and spending an undefined number of years living in it as my main home until I can finally legitimately settle down. You might think it would be insane to try to live for so long in an RV, but in all honesty, I'm a fan of tight spaces. I'm a stickler for simplicity, and I very much dislike having extra stuff cluttering up my living space. Monthly costs would be extremely low, with the only main cost-of-living fees being my cell phone plan (for voice and internet), gas (~20mpg, what my current car gets) and food (Top Raman, anyone?). Most electricity can be provided via solar panels. If you play your cards right, you can park this baby indiscriminately on easily-accessible and safe streets in many major cities without breaking any laws. And it can even fit into most regulation parking spaces.

It's no secret that I'm disappointed at the society in which I'm expected to somehow become a part of. Buying an RV and living off-the-grid with nothing tying me down may be the closest I could ever come to having any sort of a sense of freedom. Is it a particularly smart or productive idea? Probably not. Would I have amazing life experiences? It's practically guaranteed. Would I actually ever do this? Only time can tell. If things come down to it, I know that it is something I would actually enjoy doing. It wouldn't interfere with my creative workflow as long as I still have all of my photography and music gear (which is already easy to transport). And it would really be exciting to live as a nomad and modern-day vagabond. Who knows what my future has in store?