Two Girls I Met in Matsu Whose Passion and Dedication to Design Thinking Left Me in Awe

Before the hot summer arrived, I took a trip to Lienchiang County, Fujian Province, Republic of China — the four townships and five islands of the Matsu archipelago that everyone knows. Partly to enjoy the blue skies and seas I hadn’t seen all winter, and of course partly to chase the blue tears that have been so popular in recent years.

Even though it was only mid-May, this Matsu trip still left me — someone who doesn’t use sunscreen — with both arms red, hot, and nearly sunburned. And the pile of photography gear I brought to shoot the blue tears made walking around Beigan, Nangan, and Dongyin genuinely exhausting.

On this Matsu trip, two people in particular left a deep impression on me.

One was a young woman traveling alone whom I met on the ferry to Beigan. She had a GoPro action camera mounted directly above her left shoulder, jutting out from her body in a rather conspicuous way. The confident, open manner in which she walked off the boat was worlds apart from my furtive, agent-like way of trying to hide my camera gear — she looked rather like RoboCop, or Franky from One Piece.

The other was a girl who was equally petite but, judging by her skin tone and clothing, clearly more accustomed to outdoor expeditions. When we had spent a day and night on the Tai-Ma Star and had just returned from Matsu to Taiwan and were about to enter Keelung Port, while most passengers were anxiously crowding at the front of the cabin, I was sitting comfortably on a sofa and saw her equally at ease — besides a large backpack on her back, she was carrying a large tripod on each shoulder, standing alone by the window watching the sea. She was practically a model for anyone into photography.

Although I also quite enjoy travel photography, the weight of camera gear often has me packing and unpacking, unpacking and packing before a trip, because that sweet weight always leaves me hesitant and unable to choose.

Carrying one less lens saves a kilogram or two, but it might mean missing that one-in-a-thousand great shot.

I remember once flying TigerAir Taiwan. I put my carry-on on the scale, and its weight of about two kilograms made the counter staff take a second look. They immediately told me to put the camera around my neck on the scale too, and I watched the number on the counter screen slowly climb to 9.7 kilograms — close to the limit — as my hand gradually left the camera, making beads of cold sweat break out on my forehead.

And that was just one camera body and one lens; other items like the tripod, lenses of other focal lengths, and various photography accessories had already been checked in beforehand so I could pass through easily on the way to Japan.

But even after passing the airport baggage weight limit, once off the plane you still have to carry and drag all that photography gear and travel equipment around on the road yourself.

Unfortunately, walking on foot is my main way of traveling, so you can imagine that when traveling abroad I often have to drag and carry more than ten kilograms around (and that’s not even counting a round of shopping at the end of the trip).

Once, traveling in New Zealand, because there was no bus connection, I had to walk from one town to the next. I carried a 50-liter backpacking pack on my back, a 20-liter hiking pack on my chest, and hidden in the pack was a six-pack of canned beer I’d bought at the supermarket the day before, as I trudged step by step along an empty coastal mountain road to my destination.

It was roughly after this experience that I became very picky about luggage weight before a trip. So whenever I see some travelers carrying unimaginably large backpacks and all kinds of photography equipment, I feel both envious and further torn between pursuing lightweight travel gear and the completeness of my equipment (gazing into the distance).