Film for the Journey

I wouldn’t call myself any specific type of photographer, or even a photographer at all. I’m simply someone who grabs a camera on the way out the door to document whatever happens that day. Whether it’s a quick post-work surf or a bikepacking adventure, it’s always a film camera that comes along for the ride.

My love for film began as a child, shooting on my parents' old Canon Sureshot Ace. I can still remember the thrill of getting the images developed and printed, holding tangible memories in my hands. However, I stopped photographing with a dedicated camera until 2020, the year my father passed away. In the aftermath of his loss, I realised how few everyday photos I had of him—simple, honest moments like working in the yard, tinkering with cars, or getting food from our favourite local restaurant. So from then on, I decided to make photography part of my daily life, to document those fleeting moments with family and friends. Nearly five years later, and many, many rolls of film exposed, I can say it has been a success!

As I am writing this, I am packing up for a surf trip through Morocco, France, and Spain, and the only gear I’m bringing is my medium format Mamiya 6, Nikon FM3a 35mm, and about 30 rolls of film. Of course the thought crosses my mind—what if something goes wrong and the film gets ruined? What if the batteries fail, or the film gets flooded with salt water, or even damaged through airport x-ray machines? That risk and uncertainty definitely creeps into my mind, but that is part of what makes analogue photography so unpredictable and therefore exhilarating.

A lot of people ask, why don't I use a digital camera or even a smartphone to capture my everyday moments—something cheaper and possibly more practical. The answer is that digital files just don’t hold the same magic for me. If I shoot with a digital camera, I know those images will sit untouched, forgotten, collecting virtual dust on a hard drive somewhere. They don’t spark the same excitement, the same connection, the same tangible memory. I rarely feel the urge to revisit digital photos after a trip or event, but with film, it’s different. There’s a deep, personal satisfaction in flipping through physical prints and slides, reliving the experience with each intentional frame.

Ultimately, film forces me to think, to be in the moment, and not just aimlessly shoot whatever is in front of me. Before any adventure, I always remind myself—why am I taking these photos? For me, it’s about remembering the journey, documenting the in-between everyday moments. And over the years, I’ve found that film is the truest way to do just that. It forces me to be present, to cherish the moments as they unfold, and to carry a piece of them with me long after the adventure ends.

This article by Andrew McNeil was written exclusively for New Mountain Magazine Issue One. All images copyright Andrew McNeil.

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