Sometimes You Put Down the Camera and Pick Up a Chainsaw

It’s not all fun and games being a photographer.

There’s a lot of hustle. A lot of bullshit. A lot of uncertainty. Especially when you’re trying to make a living as a freelancer. Some weeks are filled with shoots, editing, emails and chasing the next project. Other weeks are a reminder that making this lifestyle work sometimes means exploring different avenues and being willing to do something completely different.

Last week, that meant putting down the camera, picking up a chainsaw and heading to southern Colorado.

I spent some time helping my buddy Tyler with Colorado Tree Care doing tree work in the aftermath of the Aspen Acres Fire. And the work came with a pretty sobering backdrop, more than 100,000 acres of scorched forest and hundreds of structures lost.

I used to run a chainsaw for work, so in some ways, getting back into tree work felt strangely familiar.

There’s something to be said about this kind of work. It’s physical. It’s exhausting. You get dirty. At the end of the day, you’re tired in a completely different way than you are after spending hours behind a camera or computer.

But there’s also something incredibly satisfying about it.

You put in a hard day and can physically see what you accomplished. No emails. No algorithms. No editing timelines. There’s a job in front of you that needs to get done, so you get it done.

In a world where so much of what we do happens behind screens, I forgot how good that can feel.

Of course, this wasn’t just another tree job.

Everywhere around us were reminders of why we were there.

We’ve all seen wildfire devastation on a screen. Maybe you’ve experienced one firsthand, or, like a lot of us, lived under the smoke hundreds of miles away.

But it’s a whole lot different standing in the aftermath.

Burned forests. Scorched hillsides. Blackened landscapes stretching into the distance. Trees that had stood for decades reduced to burned trunks.

Then there’s the soot.

It gets on your clothes, your gear, your hands and your face. You’re working in it, breathing the landscape in and talking with people who didn’t just see these images on the news. This happened in their backyard. For some, it happened to their homes and their livelihoods.

Seeing firsthand just how completely a fire can transform a landscape puts things into perspective.

And then you realize that when the flames are extinguished and the smoke finally starts to clear, the work is nowhere near finished.

There are damaged and dangerous trees to remove. Properties to clean up. Homes and structures to rebuild. Landscapes that will take years, if not generations, to recover and heal.

But among all that destruction, something else stood out to me.

The community.

People were incredibly open and welcoming, despite everything they had been through.

There were free meals for burn workers. People opening their homes to those who needed a place to stay. Neighbors helping neighbors however they could. People who had already been through an incredibly difficult experience were still finding ways to help someone else.

It was one of those reminders of what community is supposed to look like.

At the same time, we heard about people coming into the burn area and looting properties. Hearing that people would take advantage of a situation like this, when others had already lost so much, was pretty damn disheartening.

But that's not what I'll remember about the people I met there.

What I experienced firsthand was an incredibly generous community stepping up and taking care of one another, like humans should.

That left a much bigger impression on me than the worst of what we heard.

Despite the reason that brought me there, I left wanting to see more of southern Colorado.

I've lived in Colorado for a long time and explored a hell of a lot of this state, but there are still huge areas I haven't really experienced. That's one of the things I love about living here. There's always another road, another mountain range, another community or another corner of the state that can completely change your perspective.

I can't wait to get back down there under better circumstances and spend some time actually exploring.

And heck, maybe even do a little more chainsawin'.

Freelance life isn’t always cameras, powder days, pretty sunsets and mountain adventures.

Social media has a way of making creative work look like one endless highlight reel. You see the finished photographs, the mountain adventures, the cool assignments and the places the job takes you.

You don't necessarily see everything happening between those moments.

The uncertainty. The jobs that don't happen. The hustle required to keep doing something you care about for a living.

And sometimes, keeping that going means doing something completely different for a while.

There’s something I appreciate about that.

I went to southern Colorado to help a buddy with some tree work and lend a hand to a community that needed it. I came home reminded of how satisfying physical work can be, with a new appreciation for a part of Colorado I hadn't spent much time in, and with a hell of a lot of respect for a community working through the aftermath of a devastating wildfire.

Sometimes you put down the camera, pick up a chainsaw and keep moving forward.

And while I'm at it, if you're anywhere in Colorado and need some tree care or tree work taken care of, definitely hit up Colorado Tree Care. Tyler's based in Summit County and travels throughout the state for work.

Here are a few unedited phone snaps from along the way.