I thought it was a cruel joke. I read through Maya’s first email knowing that I must be getting played – I remember turning around in my chair half expecting to see my wife proudly giggling that she’d devised the most incredible sounding inquiry just to pull my leg. The ole’ photographer rick-roll. I was wrong and it was real — still reeling. The sheer insanity of locales was second only to the way the two of them connected with my work. The oft overlooked subtleties they appreciated solidified the notion that we were, the three of us, kindred spirits. There were massive logistical hurdles to overcome and the lengths that were taken to make these photos possible cannot be overstated. For that, I’m eternally grateful.
It’d be a travesty to not mention the help from my second set of eyes. My blood. My brother. Garrett Radford. He flew in to take the reigns as I flew out for another wedding and without him and and his insane talent, none of this would be.
Our time in Mo’orea was ethereal. Our hearts are overflowing. Their family, their friends, their culture, they enraptured us. Vespas were ridden, stingrays were pet, hugs were shared, tears dripped down, laughs erupted from the depths of lungs, and an absurd amount of Tahitian barbecue filled bellies.
The photos below are of the week in Tahiti. An unbelievable amount of kite-surfing, fire-dancing, coconut-eating, shark-swimming love.
**This adventure is not over – in a a little less than two months this story continues in northern Italy. Be still my heart.