I finally had a powerful story about my Nusa Penida adventure.
My photographer, Archie, and I took photos of the place and decided to do a shoot there - a rare opportunity for plein air photography.

The route was long: a flight to Bali, a drive to the port, a dangerous ride to the boat, and then another hour's drive to the beach. Upon arrival, we realized the photos looked less scary than in reality: standing on the edge of a giant cliff is truly terrifying. But since we'd already come all that way, we decided to take the plunge.

We hadn't read the reviews and didn't know there had been tragedies there. The descent turned out to be much more challenging than the promised "20 minutes." At first, there were normal steps, then a carved stone path, and closer to the middle, there were almost vertical sections where you hold on to a crooked handrail and hope your arms won't fail you. And then there were monkeys running along the cliff, trying to snatch my accessories and Archie's things.

By the halfway point, my legs were shaking, and when we agreed on a beach, I couldn't even get to the article right away. But even there, disappointment awaited us: the sun was behind the mountain, so there were no sunny shots. The beach was littered with trash, and the waves were so strong that I flipped over, my legs were knocked off, and I almost choked.

The worst part was that the only way back was the same way, and once the sun rose, the climb would be practically impossible. So we had to go straight ahead. The climb was hellish: in a narrow, dangerous spot, we had a panic attack, but we held each other together and still made it to the top, carrying only one bottle of water between us. Afterward, my whole body ached for four days.

It's a case of expecting one thing from a photo shoot and getting something completely different. But I'm still glad we got at least some shots.