Sorting through some of my
thousands of photos recently, I came across the photo journal of my almost-gap
year, when I worked as a volunteer in the Kibbutz Urim, Israel in 1989, and then cycled home 3000+ miles across
Europe.
This was one of the best
experiences of my life. Being interested in photography since I was a teenager,
I’d gone from working as a Butlins holiday camp photographer to getting a one
way ticket to the Middle East. It had all the excitement and buzz of being at
university but without the studying.
The Kibbutz Urim was near the
town of Beersheba and was home to a mixed bunch of people from all over the world. Like many other news to communal life I was matched with a set of
adopted parents who looked out for me.
My job was to help to
irrigate the land with a series of giant hoses, all done under the supervision
of a rather portly Egyptian Ishtak and Maurice. It was a hot summer and we kibbutzniks combined
that with going to events and festivals whenever we could, enjoying being young
and carefree and just having fun.
Although we worked really
hard we got time off too, which we spent seeing the sights, including visiting
the spectacular Negev desert, near Yeruham, which covers more
than half of Israel.
Before I left Dad gave me
some great advice, saying it would be the trip of a lifetime and I should keep
a journal. Alongside this I built up a big photo library, armed with my trusty camera. It was a Olympus OM1n 35mm and also a zoom - nothing fancy, but it did its job and survived the trip. Amazingly, the quality
of the slide photos is still good, especially considering they are 24 years old.
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| Dead Sea and Masada on the eastern edge of the Judaean Desert |
Being only 20 miles from
Gaza and knowing we had a weapons store on site brought its own worries and we
learned to trust our instincts when we left the site. On a solo three-day
hitchhiking trip I ended up on the West Bank, where people were concerned about
my safety and I sensibly took their advice and made a quick exit!
In those days it wasn’t
common to see people with cameras, and I was careful not to flash it about, but
the locals were always interested (sometimes too much!) in my gear and happy to
have their photos taken. I took roll after roll of Fuji 50asa slidefilm, documenting how
families lived and worked and sparking an interest in reportage or ‘as it
happens’ photography, a style I’ve since made my own.
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| View of the Bosphorus just before Istanbul, Turkey |
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| Grand Bazaar in Istanbul |
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| 21st Birthday Photo in Greece (top right) |
As it was my 21st birthday we celebrated with a bottle of the
local equivalent of Lambrini, and at 10.02am, the exact time of my birth, I
posed for a photo for my mum back home.
That’s now turned into an annual tradition for me and I’ve built up a
photo journal of birthday pictures over the years, which are fascinating to
look at.
In what was then Yugoslavia
we hopped onto a train as one of the bikes was broken. We got some bad vibes
and left the train at the invite of some local police, who waved their guns at
us and made their instructions clear. When we continued our stint by train, we
ended up bikeless at one point thanks to our bikes going to Italy while we were
heading for Belgrade, which was very inconvenient.
Austria was one of my
favourite countries and one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited. The
contrast between lakes, sun and snow was beautiful and I got some stunning landscape
photos. All the way across the
continent we swam in lakes and camped in forests. It was a matter of pride never to stay on a proper campsite,
even when we got eaten alive by mosquitoes.
In Germany I managed to get
into the middle of a bunch of 40 semi-professional bike racers on the road. It
must have been a fine sight, them in their sports gear on smart racing bikes, and
me pedalling my way through the group on my pale blue girls bike, in my cut-off
jeans and with my panniers flapping either side. Mr Bean rides again! (link)
In those days there were no mobiles or email, just good old fashioned airmail letters – when I remembered to send one home. So when I finally landed on my parent’s doorstep my mum hardly recognised me, I was brown as a berry and about two stone lighter than when I’d set off.
It was an amazing experience.
I still feel very lucky to have done it, as it opened up my mind to different
people and other cultures and ways of life. It also taught me how to use a
camera, work fast and put people at their ease. All qualities that have stood
me in good stead in my 25-year career as a press, commercial, wedding and
portrait photographer.
I’ve still got my old
faithful hat and my cycling shorts, and thanks to the many boxes of photographs
I’ve got stored in the loft I can easily slip back on a nostalgic journey into what
was a fantastic summer in my life.
