There are places you visit once, and there are places that become part of your rhythm. For me, Saint Lucia is the latter.
I’ve been traveling to this island for almost 14 years, and each visit reminds me why I keep coming back. The landscape, the people, the food, the light — it’s everything I love about travel, framed by a place that somehow feels untouched and familiar all at once.
This trip was all film. No digital safety net — just two cameras: the Texas Leica and the Fuji GA645, loaded with Portra 400. It was about traveling light and shooting with presence.
Saint Lucia is a dream for film photographers. The color-splashed hillside towns, the natural drama of the Pitons, the everyday rhythm of island life — it all feels cinematic. Portra’s tones felt made for it: soft, honest, and rich without overstatement.
One of my favorite frames from this trip was of a fisherman standing by the shore, blowing a conch shell — a timeless symbol echoing across the bay to let the village know the fresh catch had arrived. No need for signs or marketing. Just sound, ritual, and community.
Another image that stuck with me: two boys sitting quietly in the shade, the heat of the day all around them, and one of the Pitons visible in the distance, soft in the haze. It was a moment you couldn’t stage if you tried. They weren’t posing. They were just being — completely unaware of the camera and fully alive in the scene.
These are the frames I chase. Honest. Unrushed. Deeply human.
And then there was the vista. A steep, winding drive brought me to a hilltop clearing, and from there I looked down into Soufrière, a town I’ve photographed many times but never quite like this. The rooftops looked like confetti against the greens of the hillside, the blues of the sea curling into view. The shot almost felt aerial, but it was just elevation and patience — and the Texas Leica pulling every inch of depth out of the scene.
Film slows you down. With just 10 shots per roll, every frame has to count. And on this island, that constraint becomes a gift. The Fuji GA645 let me move quickly when needed — ideal for portraits and reactive moments — while the Texas Leica gave me those wide, cinematic 6×9 frames that hold stories more than just images.
No distractions. No screen. Just rhythm, light, and trust in the process.
Saint Lucia isn’t just beautiful — it’s grounded. There’s a depth here that keeps you coming back, not because it changes, but because it doesn’t.
This trip was about presence. No digital gear, no rushing to capture everything. Just film, intention, and a quiet respect for the island and its people.
And in every roll of Portra 400, I found exactly what I was looking for.