Photo tour to Myanmar, Inle Lake

Harry Fisch

Our boat sails along at full speed, in total darkness. It’s 4.30 a.m. in Myanmar, on Inle Lake. The engine roars and the occasional splash of water hits my face. I instinctively cover the bag that protects the cameras with my body. Another boat with three photographers and Nini-so –our guide – follows behind. We have been inside the channel for just over twenty minutes. The forecast indicates that at noon, in just a few hours, the thermometer will reach 90° Farenheit.

A group made up by photography fans and travel enthusiasts, having found their rhythm and enjoying a contemplative pause. The youngest of the group, Fernando, aged fifty or so, is a repeat companion – we were together in Nepal – and the most senior one, Alberto, age seventy-something, with his wife Diana and the small compact camera. All of them with a commendable spirit.

The purring of the engine, the wind in our faces. The beam of light of the flashlight of our sailor aft sporadically sweeps the boat in an attempt to penetrate the blackness. A testimonial, futile gesture. The darkness devours everything.

Pierre. Sitting with his back to me, he opens an umbrella to get some protection from the wind and the cold. Further away, in the bow, I can make out Leonardo’s back, huddled in the cold. At this moment, I remember that time in Nepal when he threatened me to never come again on one of my trips! The other Fernando, in the boat following ours, only yesterday reminded me of the early starts in the mornings on our trip to visit the tribes of southern Ethiopia.

I hope that the three fishermen will appear at the place agreed between the mouth of the canals and the lake at 5:00 a.m. We intend to have a photo session before dawn and the sun will rise at 6:05 a.m.

The sudden change of sound brings me back to reality. The boat is reducing speed and the engine is cut. A respite. The cold feels less intense. There is no moon, and even though we have become used to the darkness, we almost have to guess what is happening. A splash on our left. Some voices, almost a whisper. It’s the first of the fishermen. They other two come to join us. In a bunch, they approach the boat where the kerosene lamps are. The lamps are lit – we’ve brought four of them with us – and they are passed over to their own boats. Not a single word, not a sound. Everything happens in a ghostly atmosphere. Just the splashes and an occasional low murmur in Khmer. There is still another hour to go until dawn.

I worry about the kerosene being used up before the perfect moment of light. That would be a real fiasco! I don’t even want to think about it.

We have divided our group of six in two boats. We should have been eight, but unfortunately Maria and Cristine had to cancel their trip two days before departure, due to a last-minute problem. That’s too bad, because they were dreaming of coming to Myanmar since that trip we shared to India and Nepal.

I decide to alternate the boats in front of the fishermen so that everybody has the same opportunity to take their photos. Light is almost nonexistent and it is technically very complicated to get the images. Without flashes or reflectors, in the dark. The vessels vibrate and the fishermen, actual jugglers, hold the lamp with one hand while handling the oar with the other. It’s not easy, because they have to squat in a boat in which none of us would stay afloat longer than thirty seconds.

Without using a flash, things are complicated. It takes a steady hand and good luck. One of the kerosene lamps starts to lose its light and extinguishes itself, breaking off the aesthetic rhythm of fishermen and boats: light, lamp without kerosene, light. Not having the same intensity actually doesn’t favor the image at all. Fernando suggests moving one of the boats behind the others. I finally decide to do without the one with the faulty lamp and go on with two boats. The sky behind the mountains is starting to be visible. Without realizing it, the first hour has gone by in complete darkness. We have forgotten the cold in the excitement of the hunt.

The sun finally starts to show on the horizon. We only have a few minutes of magical light left. We imperceptibly pass from dreaming to reality. Alone, in midst of the silence, in the middle of Inle Lake, Myanmar.

The few tourists will appear in about an hour…