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burnt orange and broken lenses: my freelancing scramble in bloemfontein

@Grace Miller3/17/2026blog

i’m sitting on the tailgate of my beat-up Toyota, the one with the cracked windshield that i keep meaning to fix, and i’m just staring at this sea of golden grass that goes on until it hits a line of low, knobby hills. the sky is bleached white, not a cloud in sight, and the sun is hammering down. my camera bag feels like a sack of bricks - 70‑200 f/2.8, 24‑70 f/2.8, a 35mm prime, a 50mm, a Canon R5 body, spare batteries, a drone that pretends it’s indestructible until it meets a thorn bush. i’m in the free state, south africa, somewhere around -29.2, 26.8333 according to the gps. i came here chasing a particular light i saw in a forum post - that low, warm glow that makes the dry grass look like it’s on fire.

i pulled out my phone to check the weather because i’m paranoid about humidity messing with my sensor. it’s reading 29.59°C, but the "feels like" is 27.91°C. the humidity is a parched 20%, and the pressure is 1009 hPa. that’s basically my ideal shooting weather: crisp, dry, no risk of sudden rain. i usually hate the cold, but this dry heat is a relief - you don’t sweat into the lens, just get a fine layer of dust. i wiped my glasses and noticed a few specks on my camera’s viewfinder. i’m going to have to break out the rocket blower again.

i set the map on my phone to show the coordinates. you can see exactly where i am:


i know it looks like nothing, but trust me, the light here is unreal. the way the late afternoon sun spills over those hills, it’s like the whole world is glowing amber. i’ve been here for three hours and i’ve shot maybe a hundred frames, but i’m still not satisfied. i need that one shot that makes the effort worth it.

i’m a freelance photographer, which means i’m constantly torn between wanting to capture the perfect moment and wanting to not die of heatstroke. i drink water like it’s going out of style, and i have a collapsible bucket that i sometimes fill with ice to cool my cameras. my drone, a DJI Mavic 3, has been acting up because of the dust. i had to open it up and clean the motors with a paintbrush - it was disgusting, but i got it flying again. there’s something humbling about having to do field surgery on expensive gear while a herd of cows watches you like you’re the idiot.

if you ever get bored of this isolation, there are a few stops within a short drive. kimberley, with its diamond history and the big hole, is about two hours west. i’ve been there once; the air smelled like old stone and pretentious tourists. johannesburg is a four‑hour haul east, a concrete jungle that never sleeps. i sometimes go there to edit in a cafe with air‑con and a proper espresso machine. but honestly, the peace out here is why i came. plus, the night skies are incredible - the lack of light pollution means the milky way is a blaze across the heavens. i set up my tripod with a 14mm f/2.8 and did a star trail sequence. the pressure was steady, the air clear, and the stars were so sharp i could almost count the craters on the moon.

i heard some gossip from a local farmer at the general store. apparently, the cafe on the main street - i think it’s called "the dusty spoon" - serves coffee that’ll make you question your life choices. but the same farmer said the owner, aunt margaret, has a stack of photo albums from the 1970s that she lets you browse if you buy a scone. i checked yelp, and the reviews are all over the place: one star for burnt brew, five stars for atmosphere. i went in, had a flat white that was indeed bitter, but i stayed for the stories. she told me about the time a famous photographer (i think it was bert stern?) came through and shot the entire town during a dust storm. i’ll include a yelp link, but be warned: Yelp - The Dusty Spoon. (that’s a guess at the url, but you get the idea).

i also stumbled upon a thread on a local photography board where someone raved about a hidden spot near an old windmill about ten kilometres east of here. the post said, "if you catch the light right, the windmill blades paint long shadows across the wheat." i went at dawn, and it was magical. the wind was howling though, and i almost lost my tripod. i captured a sequence that i’m still editing. i’ll share it on my instagram once i’m happy with the colors. sometimes, the best shots are the ones you find by following drunken advice at a gas station. that’s the kind of thing i live for.

here are a few snaps from the last couple of days. i’ve got a wide‑angle view of the plains, a close‑up of a lone acacia tree that looked like it was on fire, and a portrait of the farmer’s kid who ran into my frame and then demanded to see the photo on my camera. kids these days.


i know i keep talking about light, but that’s the job. the free state’s light is harsh, it’s true, but it’s also honest. it doesn’t flatter, it reveals. you have to work with it or get burned. i’ve spent evenings chasing the last rays, only to be thwarted by a sudden gust of wind that blurred everything. then i pack up, go back to my van, and open a can of baked beans. simple living, big skies. the pressure reading still sits at 1009, promising clear nights. i’m planning a timelapse of the stars rising over that windmill tomorrow. if all goes well, i’ll have a 30‑second clip that’ll make my instagram feed pop. if not, well, maybe the dust will give it a vintage feel.

for anyone thinking of coming out this way, i recommend renting a 4x4, bringing more water than you think you need, and a good headlamp. also, if you want to see what other travelers have to say, check out the Free State Community Board - they have a section on photography spots that’s surprisingly useful. and of course, you can’t go wrong with the classic TripAdvisor: Bloemfontein Hotels & Attractions. i’ve found some hidden guesthouses that are cheaper than the big chains and have character. Another resource - Lonely Planet's Bloemfontein page is always solid for general tips.

that's all for now. my battery is at 12%, my stomach is growling, and the sky is turning that deep purple just before dark. i should start rolling that timelapse. until next time, keep your lenses clean and your spirit wild.

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About the author: Grace Miller

Student of life, taking notes for everyone else.

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