The Camera Gear I Brought on a Five-Day SUP Expedition and What Survived
Documenting our five-day paddleboard circumnavigation of Lake Tahoe meant putting camera equipment through conditions most gear reviews never actually test for. Sun, splash, cold nights, constant motion, and five straight days with no reliable way to dry anything out completely. Here's what I brought, what survived, and what I'd change about my kit if I did this again.
The Core Camera Bodies
I shot this trip primarily on a Sony a7R IV for stills, which handled the conditions better than I expected given how much exposure it got to lake spray and general humidity across five days. My Sony a7S III came along for low-light and video work, particularly useful for the interview footage recorded on Fannette Island where the lighting inside the roofless stone tea house was inconsistent throughout the evening. Both bodies came through the trip functioning normally, though both needed a more thorough cleaning afterward than gear from a typical single-day shoot.
Lenses and What Actually Got Used
I carried a limited selection from my Tamron lens lineup rather than my full kit, prioritizing versatility over specialized options given the space constraints of a loaded paddleboard. A mid-range zoom did most of the work across the trip, covering everything from wider shoreline shots to closer portrait-style images of Michael on the water. A single dedicated lens rarely earned its place on a trip like this compared to something more flexible that could adapt to whatever the moment actually called for.
How Waterproofing Actually Held Up
Neither camera body is rated for full submersion, so protection came down to careful handling and a dedicated waterproof case for storage between uses rather than relying on the gear's own weather sealing to handle direct exposure. The case mattered more than any individual piece of equipment. I mounted it somewhere I could access quickly without unpacking the rest of the board, since the moments worth photographing on a trip like this rarely wait for you to dig through several dry bags first.
What Struggled in These Conditions
Sun protection for the gear itself became a real consideration I hadn't fully planned for. Direct sun reflecting off open water for hours at a time put more thermal stress on the equipment than I'd anticipated, and I found myself being more careful than usual about leaving cameras exposed during breaks rather than keeping them shaded whenever possible. Battery life also drained faster than expected, partly from cold overnight temperatures and partly from the sheer volume of shooting across five consecutive days without a reliable way to fully recharge everything each night.
The Drone Decision
I brought a drone but used it sparingly compared to how I might on a typical brand shoot. Wind conditions on Lake Tahoe change quickly enough that flying became a genuine risk assessment each time rather than a default choice, and the physical space a drone and its accessories take up on an already loaded board factored into how much I actually wanted to carry. On a trip this physically demanding, every piece of gear needs to earn its spot, and the drone got used only when conditions and the shot genuinely called for it.
What I'd Change Next Time
I'd invest in a more robust charging setup specifically, since power management was the single biggest limiting factor on how much I could shoot each day without rationing battery use. I'd also bring a smaller backup camera as insurance, something compact enough not to add meaningful weight but capable enough to keep documenting if either primary body had failed. Neither did, but five days on open water is exactly the kind of trip where that redundancy would have mattered if something had gone wrong.
What I Learned About Shooting While Physically Exhausted
Beyond the equipment itself, this trip taught me something about my own relationship to documentation when I'm running on limited energy. On the hardest physical days, particularly after the seventeen-mile push to Banzai Rock, I found myself far less motivated to pull the camera out than I would be on a typical single-day shoot where I'm fresh and focused entirely on the work. That's a real factor worth planning around if you're documenting your own demanding expedition. Build in specific commitments to yourself about when you'll shoot regardless of how tired you feel, whether that's a set number of shots per day or specific moments you've decided in advance are worth the effort, rather than relying purely on motivation that will naturally dip as fatigue builds.
How This Compares to Documenting Shorter Brand Shoots
Most of my professional work involves single-day or multi-day shoots where I'm rested and can dedicate full attention to the camera without also managing the physical demands of the activity itself. This trip blurred those roles in a way most of my work doesn't, paddling and photographing simultaneously rather than one supporting the other. That dual role is genuinely more difficult than it sounds, and it changed how I think about gear selection for any future project where I'm both the subject completing the activity and the person responsible for capturing it. Simpler, faster-to-access equipment tends to win out over more capable but slower gear whenever those two roles have to happen simultaneously.
What I'd Tell Someone Building Their First Multi-Day Camera Kit
Start from the constraint, not the wish list. A paddleboard gives you a fraction of the space and weight allowance most photographers are used to working with, and the temptation to bring your full kit needs to be resisted from the planning stage, not sorted out the night before departure the way ours nearly was. Pick the one or two lenses that cover the widest range of situations you're likely to encounter, accept that you'll miss some shots a more specialized lens might have captured, and prioritize gear that survives the conditions over gear that produces marginally better image quality in ideal ones. On a trip like this, a working camera that gets used consistently beats a superior camera that's too cumbersome to reach for in the moment, and that principle held true across every single day of the expedition, from the first morning at Ski Run Marina to the last stretch coming back into it five days later.
Before You Close This Tab
What camera equipment actually holds up to water, sun, and constant motion on a multi-day paddleboard trip, based on your own experience with similar conditions?
How would you solve for camera battery management across five days with no reliable outlet?
Would you prioritize a versatile mid-range lens over specialized options for a trip with this much space constraint?
What backup plan do you have if your primary camera body fails partway through a documented expedition?
Dalton Johnson is a photographer, filmmaker, and brand storyteller based in South Lake Tahoe, California. Over the past decade he has worked with brands including Patagonia, GoPro, Arc'teryx, Four Seasons, Nike, Rivian, and Ford Bronco across all seven continents. He is the creator of the Follow The Journey distribution framework, which has produced over one million organic views per 30-day cycle without paid media. His work includes two published books, an award-winning documentary that aired on PBS, and more than fifty commercial spots directed. He runs Stories by Dalton on Substack, read by more than 34,000 subscribers.