Spending Two Months in Shompole Hides
- Mark Fernley
- Oct 31
- 13 min read
The Call of Shompole Hides
When I first heard of Shompole, it was little more than a whisper - a name passed between guides and photographers with the same reverence usually reserved for legends. The Shompole Plains, lying deep in Kenya’s southern Rift Valley, are a place that seem to exist somewhere between worlds. The light there isn’t just bright; it glows. Dust turns gold, shadows breathe, and silence carries weight.
When my wife, Jaren, and I decided to spend two full months living and working between the Shompole Plains Hide and the Kichaka Hide, I don’t think either of us realised how much it would change us. We had photographed across East Africa for years - from the open savannas of the Serengeti to the forests of Kibale - but nothing prepared us for the raw intimacy of life inside a hide. For sixty days, we surrendered to time itself, to patience, to heat, to the rhythm of the wild.
We weren’t just visiting; we were embedding ourselves into the landscape. Every sound became familiar - the distant call of hyenas at dusk, the low rumble of elephants approaching before the moon rose, the wind that carried sand through the plains. During breaks, we stayed at Shompole Wilderness, a lodge that felt like an oasis of comfort on the edge of a world that defied comfort. But the hides were our true home - dark, narrow, silent spaces where we spent more time waiting than shooting.
It’s one thing to spend an evening in a hide; it’s another to live there long enough for the wildlife to accept you as part of the environment. We became, in a sense, invisible. And that invisibility is where the magic began. We started to witness the smallest, most private behaviours - elephants drinking and spraying themselves with water under starlight, a leopard padding silently along the edge of our vision, bat-eared foxes playing like children beneath the infrared glow.
We became the first wildlife photographers in history to dedicate that much time to both Shompole Plains Hide and Kichaka Hide. It wasn’t a record we set out to break; it was an act of immersion. We wanted to see what would happen when patience had no deadline - when photography wasn’t just about taking images but about earning them.
The challenge wasn’t the heat, or the isolation, or the endless waiting. It was the light. The hides gave us complete creative control over it - front light, side light, backlight. We could sculpt scenes in ways that natural light could never allow. We learned to balance the glow of dust against the gleam of tusks, to illuminate only what the story needed. The results were unlike anything we’d captured before - portraits born from darkness, shaped by precision and restraint.
Shompole isn’t just a place to photograph; it’s a place that teaches you to see. It strips away distraction until only the essential remains: subject, light, patience. What we found there wasn’t only wildlife - it was a reminder of why we started this journey in the first place.
The Routine of the Plains Hide
Each day at Shompole followed a rhythm that, over time, became as natural as breathing. By mid-afternoon, when the heat began to soften and the acacia shadows stretched long across the plains, Jaren and I would begin our daily ritual - preparing for another night at the hide. Around 3 p.m., the lodge at Shompole Wilderness transformed into our small workshop. We’d spread everything across the veranda table: two Canon R5s, a 70–200mm, the 300mm f/2.8, the fluid head for filming, and the gimbal for stability. Every lens was cleaned of dust, every battery checked, every memory card formatted. In a place like Shompole, you can’t afford a single technical error - a loose screw or drained battery could mean missing a once-in-a-lifetime moment.
By late afternoon, we’d head out. The first step was the short walk from the lodge down to the river, the air still heavy with heat and the noise of Baboons. We’d step into the small boat that carried us across the river, the surface glowing gold with reflected light. On the opposite bank, our vehicle waited for the final three - kilometre drive to the hide. It was always a quiet journey - no conversation, just focus. That drive felt like a transition from the human world to the wild.
When we reached the Shompole Plains Hide, wildlife was already there. Zebra and giraffe would often be drinking as we arrived, their reflections rippling in the shallow water. We’d move quietly, opening the heavy metal viewing doors to let in air and light. The heat would hit us instantly - dense, unmoving, the kind that makes even your camera feel warm to the touch. But outside, life unfolded all around us. The hide became part of the landscape, just another shape in the earth.
Soon after, Maren our Maasai assistant brought in the food, coffee, and sparkling water, which we’d keep close at hand. Once the doors were open and gear assembled, the world outside took over. The late afternoon light was a photographer’s dream - soft dust rising from hooves, baboons crossing in long shadows, guinea fowl scattering like sparks of light. Zebra and giraffe lingered, sometimes standing in the warm haze that turned every frame into a painting. That hour between daylight and dusk never failed to deliver something worth capturing - it was when the plains came alive with motion and texture.
As evening deepened, we’d move outside to set up the lighting systems. It became a daily ritual: adjusting angles, checking the coverage, balancing brightness to make sure no beam was harsh or unnatural. Everything had to be perfect before nightfall. Once darkness took over, the world changed completely. Silence thickened, stars emerged above the valley, and our night truly began.
From then on, there was no sleep - only alertness. We’d take our positions inside the hide and remain there until dawn. Hour after hour, we watched the parade of life unfold. Lions, moving with deliberate grace, would approach to drink - their reflections glowing softly in the light. Leopards if lucky would appear suddenly, silent and elusive, often passing within meters of the hide. Elephants would step into view with a quiet authority, their size magnified by the darkness. Buffalo, civet, giraffe, and spotted hyena all took their turns at the waterhole.
Each encounter brought a rush of focus - checking exposure, adjusting lights by hand, waiting for the right angle before pressing the shutter. The nights were long, but never dull. Every sound mattered: the faint crunch of hooves, the call of hyenas in the distance, the low breathing of elephants close enough to hear. Between these moments of intensity were hours of silence, where even the smallest sound - the hum of a lens motor or the click of a tripod head - felt amplified.
Jaren and I worked as one. We barely spoke, yet we always knew what the other was thinking - when to shift focus from stills to film, when to adjust a light, when to simply stop shooting and absorb what was happening. It wasn’t just teamwork; it was trust. Out there, in that silence, surrounded by life and darkness, that connection mattered as much as the cameras themselves.
By dawn, when the light returned and the animals faded back into the bush, exhaustion would set in - but it was always the kind that came with satisfaction. We’d step out into the pale morning, stretch, and look across the plains. The dust, the silence, the hours of waiting - all of it was worth it. Every night brought something new, and no two were ever the same.
At Shompole, routine didn’t dull the magic; it sharpened it. Every repetition - the gear check, the crossing, the setup, the wait - was a step closer to understanding this place, its rhythm, and its light. And for two months, that was our life: preparing, waiting, watching, and capturing the hidden beauty of a wilderness few ever see after dark.
The Routine of the Kichaka Hide
During our two months at Shompole, Jaren and I had the privilege of testing a new addition to the Shompole Wilderness photographic experience - the Kichaka Hide, located 1.7 kilometres from the Shompole Plains Hide. Where the Plains Hide sat open to the vast expanse of the valley, Kichaka was something entirely different. Tucked into a more bushy and shaded area, it felt secluded, secretive - a space designed for patience rather than drama.
At the time, the hide was brand new, and we became the first two people in history to spend an extended period inside it. It had been carefully positioned to attract smaller, more elusive species such as caracal, serval, African wild cat, and striped hyena, while still drawing the occasional visit from larger plains animals. Those first nights were quiet - almost too quiet. The bush around us felt cautious, as if watching from the shadows. Wildlife takes time to accept something new, and so for the first few weeks, we sat in long stretches of stillness, listening to the soft rustle of wind through the brush and the distant sounds of zebra at the Kichaka waterhole.
Unlike the Plains Hide, which featured an elaborate lighting system with multiple angles, Kichaka was equipped only with front and side lighting during our stay, However, in 2026, a backlight would be installed. That meant we had to work with front lighting and side lighting only. It was slower, more deliberate photography. But what Kichaka lacked in spectacle, it made up for in intimacy. When something finally emerged from the bush - a caracl stepping carefully into the open or a wild cat gliding through the beam - the moment felt earned. Every frame carried a sense of discovery.
We spent many nights inside Kichaka, and during the heat of the day, it became our makeshift office. With laptops balanced on camera bags and coffee in hand, we’d back up footage, edit images, and catalogue observations while the plains shimmered outside. From time to time, zebra and giraffe would wander past the hide, peering curiously toward the narrow viewing slots. Baboons and banded mongoose became regular visitors, while impala, bushbuck, and guinea fowl moved quietly through the dappled light. Even in daylight, the hide offered endless scenes of behaviour that often go unnoticed - the kind of subtle wildlife moments that only appear when you sit still long enough to be forgotten.
But it was the nights that truly defined Kichaka. Slowly, the traffic increased. Each evening brought a little more life, a few more tracks in the sand. The animals were getting used to the new structure, recognising that it posed no threat. The silence that once felt empty began to hum with possibility. One night, a caracal appeared - our first sighting there - moving low and fluid through the beam of light, eyes glinting briefly before vanishing again. Soon after came the African wild cat, the striped hyena, and the occasional white-tailed mongoose gliding ghostlike past the lens. Even zebra and giraffe began visiting after dark, drinking quietly under the stars.
As the nights passed, we realised we were witnessing a transformation. What had begun as an experiment - a quiet hide waiting for its first visitors - was becoming a thriving nocturnal hub. By the end of our two months, Kichaka had evolved into something as productive and exciting as the Plains Hide itself. It wasn’t just a place for small cats and shy mammals anymore; it was alive with activity, a meeting point of the wild.
Looking back, I see those weeks at Kichaka as one of the most rewarding phases of our Shompole project. It demanded more patience, more trust, and more creativity than any other hide we’d worked in. It taught us to adapt - to work with limited lighting, to photograph in confined space, and to let the wilderness set the pace. It also reminded us that even in the quietest corners of the bush, life is always watching, always waiting to return.
Today, Kichaka stands as a testament to what time and respect can achieve. From the smallest mongoose to the rarest caracal, the wildlife has accepted it completely - and we were there at the very beginning to witness that transformation, night after night. Both Kichaka and Plains hides are now to this day both equal with activity.
What Does it Feel Like Spending Two Months in Shompole Hides?
Spending many long night in a photo hide can be really challenging to ones mentaluity. One month lasted a lifetime in many ways. By the second month, the physical toll began to show. Spending night after night in an underground photo hide was as punishing as it was rewarding. There was comfort but lack of sleep began to show, no real rest - only the hum of insects, the weight of heat during the day, and the endless waiting. We averaged two hours of sleep a night, if that, often returning to the lodge after sunrise just long enough to back up images, clean lenses, and shower before preparing to do it all again. The exhaustion became a quiet companion. Shooting for hours while half-awake, operating the lights manually, keeping eyes sharp through the fatigue - it tested not only skill but discipline.
Some nights, the proximity of wildlife snapped us wide awake. Lions approached within two metres of the hide, so close that we could hear them breathing - no glass, no barrier, just open air between us. At eye level, their gaze carried power that no lens could truly contain. The heat inside the hide made everything harder: electronics ran warm, the air grew thick, and the smell of dust and earth clung to every surface. Over time, we realised we couldn’t physically sustain it every single night. We began to work on a rotation - one night in, one night out - to regain enough strength to return with clear minds.
But the repetition had its reward. With each session, we became masters of the craft - understanding every nuance of the lighting, how it wrapped around dust or caught a glint in a leopard’s eye, how subtle shifts in brightness could turn a scene from ordinary to transcendent. Fatigue sharpened focus. We no longer thought about which dial to turn or how bright each light should be; it became instinct. The exhaustion never faded completely, but it was replaced by something stronger - an intimacy with the wild, and with the process itself. Two months underground had stripped us down to the essentials: patience, precision, and a deep respect for what it means to truly wait for nature to trust you.
Light and Shadows - A Photographer’s Playground
If there was one thing that defined our time at Shompole, it was light. In two months underground and above the ground, we learned that light could be as alive as the animals themselves - unpredictable, moody, and endlessly expressive. The hides weren’t just places to wait; they were studios of precision, built to give photographers total creative control over how wildlife is seen. Unlike most safari photography, where you work with whatever the sun offers, here we controlled the narrative completely. Every beam, every reflection, every shadow was intentional.
The hides were designed with three primary directions of illumination:
Front lighting, for detail and reflection,
Side lighting, for depth and texture,
Backlighting, for atmosphere & eliminating dust.
Each configuration told a completely different story. And by the end of our stay, we’d become masters of blending them - creating moods that went beyond documentation and entered the realm of artistry. The following are some of the lighting situations that shaped our nights, frame by frame.
1. Front Lighting with One Side Light - The Lions’ Waterhole
Front lighting was the foundation - designed to illuminate the animal and the water directly ahead. It was powerful, even, and ideal for detail: whiskers, reflections, droplets. But on its own, it could feel too clinical. So we began experimenting, adding a single side light to introduce depth.
One night, as a pride of lions came to feed on a zebra kill, we adjusted the front light to a softer intensity and activated just one side light to the right. The effect was immediate - the faces of the lions glowed with clarity while the faint shadows curved along their flanks, giving the scene texture and life. The water caught the light perfectly, reflecting the pride’s movement in ripples of gold. It was balanced storytelling - beauty and power in harmony.
Front lighting became our choice for behaviour moments: drinking, interaction, grooming. It showed honesty - no exaggeration, no drama, just the animal as it was. But it also required restraint. Too much light and the moment lost its mystery; too little and it became guesswork. In the hide, we learned that front light works best when it respects darkness, not replaces it.
2. Side Lights Only - Darkness and Definition
Then came the side-light-only sessions - perhaps the most artistic of all. By turning off the front beams, the waterhole and background sank into shadow, while the animals were revealed only by the soft glow along their edges. It was minimalism in motion.
During one of these nights, a single and rare serval stepped into the frame. The side lights caught his body, carving him out from the dark. The rest of the world vanished - no water, no horizon, just the statue of life in pure form. Zebras followed, their stripes abstracted into bands of light and void. These were the frames that felt cinematic, where the absence of light said more than the light itself.
Working only with side lighting was demanding. Exposure had to be perfect - there was no front illumination to save the shadows. Every mistake was exaggerated. But it also taught precision: how far to let the light spill, how to angle the beam so it skimmed the air without revealing the background. It was painting with light, but the canvas was alive.
3. Backlight with One Side Light - The Giants of the Dust
Backlighting was where the hides truly came alive. Positioned behind the waterhole, the backlight turned dust into blue gold and outlines into sculptures. When elephants or buffalo entered the scene, the effect was beyond words.
One night, a lone male elephant walked through the beam, each step sending dust into the air. We added a single side light from the left, just enough to catch the texture of its trunks and ears without flattening the glow. The result was surreal - the animal became silhouettes rimmed with fire, walking through a storm of light. Every photograph from that session felt timeless, as if captured on the edge of dream and reality.
But it wasn’t easy. We learned to clean obsessively, to test intensity before every frame. And yet, when it worked, it was transcendent. No other lighting setup revealed the soul of the plains quite like that.
4. One Side Light and Backlights - Motion and Mood
The final combination - one side light and one backlight - became our signature. It was perfect for animals walking side-on past the waterhole, giving a sense of motion and dimensionality. The side light revealed texture and colour; the backlight gave atmosphere and separation.
We used it often with Lions, capturing the moment they entered or exited the scene. The dust, illuminated from behind, swirled around them like smoke. Each frame had a cinematic depth, where the subject seemed to step out from the darkness itself.
This setup was delicate - too much backlight and the side became lost in glare; too little and the animal vanished into silhouette. It required instinct, not measurement. By the end of our stay, we could make those adjustments without even thinking - a half-turn on the dimmer, a subtle repositioning of the beam - learned not from manuals, but from months of living with the light itself.
In the end, light became our language. It wasn’t just a tool for exposure - it was how we told stories. The Shompole hides taught us that mastery doesn’t come from equipment, but from time. Time to fail, to learn, to experiment, and to understand how every grain of dust, every reflection of water, interacts with light. We didn’t just use the Shompole lighting systems - we redefined them.
Join Us at the Shompole Hides
No one knows the Shompole Plains Hide and Kichaka Hide like we do. After spending two full months underground mastering every light, angle, and movement, Jaren and I became the most experienced photographers to ever work these hides.
Join us for an exclusive photographic safari at Shompole Wilderness, where we’ll guide you through the art of night hide photography - from sculpting light and predicting animal behaviour to capturing powerful, cinematic images of lions, elephants, hyenas, and more. You’ll photograph at eye level with Africa’s wildlife, using the same lighting systems we perfected - front, side, and backlight setups that reveal the soul of the plains after dark. This isn’t just another safari. It’s an immersive masterclass in patience, precision, and creativity, led by photographers who know every secret of the Shompole hides.
Limited spaces available. Join Jaren and myself underground, where light, dust, and instinct create something unforgettable.
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