When I heard that a ferry with 865 passengers onboard had sunk in the waters off Sibuyen Island in the central Philippines during Typhoon Fengshen, I set about trying to get there. My best bet was to hitch a ride on a Philippine Airforce helicopter.

So at 05:30 I was at a Manila airforce base, hoping to accompany the first flight of the search and rescue operation. All I had were the clothes on my back, a laptop, a satellite phone and one camera body.

My other camera body had been also been casualty of Typhoon Fengshen when it hit Manila but I was concerned that they would bump me off the flight if I carried too much.

At 07:00, I was still on the ground but with no sign of the opposition I worried that maybe they had hired their own aircraft and were already ahead of me. However, shortly afterwards we were on our way to Sibuyan Island.

After an hour and a half of flying, we caughtour first sight of the capsized ferry, the MV Princess of the Stars. I immediately began shooting pictures, but when I had done I was struck by the realisation  that the ship was still full of the bodies of the victims.

We landed in a nearby town called San Fernando and before I began filing my pictures over the satphone I watched as the air force helicopter, the only form of transportation to the remote island, took off again. It was then that I realized I was the first agency photographer there.

A local guy told me that there had been four survivors and that they were staying at the municipal hall nearby. Their faces were covered in cuts and bruises - one described to me how he had jumped from the ferry and swum ashore, and how he had had to leave others behind for fear he too would drown. 

I was offered overnight accommodation in a home which still had electricity and running water.

Next day I hired a small boat to get closer to the stricken  ferry, saying silent prayers as the boatmen steered through enormous waves.  As we approached, Coast Guard rescue divers had just recovered two bodies. They were bloated - almost unrecognisable.

Back on the shore, relatives and spectators were beginning to gather. Some days later a priest said mass for the victims, from a tugboat and relatives of the victims remebered their loved-ones by throwing flowers into the ocean. It was impossible not to be moved by their anguish. 

On my fifth day, I returned to site and was surprised to find it empty. The coast guard commander called an emergency briefing and announced that the recovery of the bodies had been halted because there were toxic pesticides on board the sunken ship, which threatened the well-being of the divers. As soon as that news hit Manila I got a call from the bureau, instructing me to stay off the water.

I left later that day with the ferry still in its capsized position and hundreds of unrecovered bodies still floating beneath it.

It is deperately sad that yet another disaster in the Philippines should have claimed so many lives and I really struggle to imagine what the victims’ relatives must be going through.
 

Photographer Todd Korol provides an insight into the life of Chuckwagon drivers at the Calgary Stampede, an invite only rodeo that attracts some of the world’s best riders.

With the Olympics now only a month away the search for scene-setting images to tempt the visual palate has begun in earnest. From the Beijing file Henry Lee gives us this to kick start the week - Wei Shengchu, 58, a supporter of traditional Chinese medicine, poses for photos in front of Beijing Railway Station with his head covered with acupuncture needles depicting 205 national flags and an Olympic torch, 7, 2008. Local media reported that Wei wanted to express his good wishes for the upcoming Beijing Olympic Games as well as to promote traditional Chinese medicine. 

And it is all his own work, all 205 and something more substantial representing the Olympic flame, painstakingly inserted into his head to the obvious entertainment of passersby. 

Even in this low resolution the Stars and Stripes, the Swiss, French, Canadian, Brazilian and a host of other national flags, are fairly easily spotted but not the Union Jack. 

Maybe he just forgot it, or perhaps it occupies a place in the shade where the sun has finally set on the British Empire.

The rescue of French-Colombian politician Ingrid Betancourt from FARC guerrillas after years in jungle captivity dominated headlines around the world this week. Accompanying these headlines were pictures of her arrival in Bogota. Despite the tough competition from many of the world's press, You Witness contributor Leonardo Suarez provided up close images of Betancourt that supplemented the existing images on the Reuters wire. Leonardo works as a contractor for Reuters in Colombia where he monitors stock trades and provides data support, a far cry from working out in the field as a photographer. Leonardo describes how he came to document this week's top story.

"I went to the airport to bring camera lenses to our photographers who needed to cover the story. I managed to get past security with their help. I brought my Canon 40D camera and 100:400mm 4.5-5.6 lens. I simply took pictures with the photographers as I saw fit. Once I returned to the office, I reviewed the pictures the photographers submitted and sent whatever pictures I had that were not duplicates to Reuters You Witness service. "

To view this week's You Witness slideshow click here.

“ALWAYS get to the scene as soon as possible”, is a mantra for the Tokyo picture team. It is advice which features prominently in the pocket-sized guide to emergency coverage procedures produced by our boss Michael Caronna - a guide which has also become indispensible in everyday coverage too. 

Japan is one of the world’s most seismically active areas and the Tokyo Pictures team’s emergency earthquake coverage plan is well-developed and paid off recently when we covered a powerful earthquake in Northern Japan. 

The guide suggests a very clear and concise principle: “Have equipment and photographers in place at all times and just go when it happens.”

So we keep long lenses, a Nera sat-phone, a small generator, extra batteries, gasoline container, a portable TV, a radio and survival kits with emergency food, bottled water, wet weather gear and the like, in the Company car. rain gears, etc, in the Pix van and the contents are checked regularly.  We carry laptops and basic camera gear with us day and night. 

Because a strong quake in Tokyo may also tumble our office building, we have a second parking space near where Issei Kato, Toru Hanai and I live, about 10 Km away from Tokyo office. Every night one us takes the van, our mobile office, and parks it near where we live and brings it back to office in the morning. 

From time to time, as an emergency drill, we test filing pictures by sat-phone using the generator from the office or from a local  park.

When the 7.2 magnitude quake struck Iwate, about 500 km north of Tokyo, on that Saturday morning, we followed the guide to the letter.

0930 AM,  about 40 minutes after the earthquake alarm hit local media, Hanai and I were already on the highway to the scene with our mobile office, company car,  because we didn’t have to waste time picking up gear in the office and left before we even knew how many earthquake casualties there were.

While Hanai and I rushed to the scene, Michael was picking-up pictures from local media in the office while Kato looked for alternative transportation to the earthquake site.  All bullet trains had stopped and flights to the nearest airport were fully booked, so he set off in a rental car.

Hanai and I arrived around 2 o’clock and our first pictures hit the wire two or three hours ahead of our competitors, after which everything seemed to go very smoothly.

Kato who has a lot of experience in earthquake coverage found a spot to which evacuated victims were being ferried by helicopter and his picturesquickly followed ours on to the wire.

Hanai and I separated and we all kept shooting and filing pictures of shelters and landslides until midnight.

Around 1 AM, we tried to get some sleep but were back on our feet by 4 AM because our earthquake expert Kato knew rescue workers and civil defense troops start work early. While our competitors still dozed, Hanai and I had moved daylight pictures via mobile and satphone from the scene  of a landslide area, while Kato had negotiated his way on to a civil defence chopper enroute to a spa resort buried under a landslide, the only wire service photographer to do so. 

Hanai located an evacuation centre from which we filed our pictures and as I finished filing we watched our competition arrive at the landslide area, long after the rescue teams had packed-up for the day. It was at that point I realised that we had won this story.

Our efforts were rewarded by two pictures in the IHT including the front page.

In the end the earthquake did relatively little damage and there were few casualties. The scale of the event was far smaller than we feared and anticipated but it did prove that careful contingency planning, following established emergency procedure, close teamwork and an early start are an essential combination when disaster strikes. 

Glancing up while sitting in the departure lounge of Grantley Adams Airport in Barbados my heart sank - oh crap! - joining me and a few other passengers in the waiting area was the Australian Cricket team.  Nothing personal, all good guys.   Some passengers, who were clearly supporters, reacted with muted excitement.  But it became painfully obvious to me, the team was joining us on our flight leaving shortly for St Vincent. I smiled an evil grin at the ignorant supporters in the lounge for they were unaware of the fact that the team’s presence on our plane meant only one thing and it wasn’t good… but I will come back to that.

I have been covering cricket in the West Indies for about 15 years now and consider myself a veteran of many a tour through the islands.  When I tell friends and colleagues that I am off to the Caribbean for cricket, I am constantly met comments of the, ”wow nice!!” or “man another tough assignment in paradise”, kind. I admit, it sounds pretty good to me too, but I know better… I have been there, got the T-shirt and worn it out. 

Most people when they travel down to the Windies for a holiday fly on a major airline, unpack, sit in the sun, drink too much, burn their skin the colour of a ripe tomato, pack their bags, get back on that big jet and go home… no fuss no muss. I and my photo colleagues also board that big jet but remain behind to move from island to island for the next four to eight weeks… well read on…

Now, before I give the impression I am about to regale you with nothing but tales of woe, let me say that covering cricket in the Windies is usually a lot of fun.  But I am biased as I love the sport and love covering it. West Indians love their cricket so much that some of the islands often declare a national holiday to allow fans to attend a One-Day International.

The atmosphere can be a carnival-like with loud Caribbean music between overs, especially the catchy favourites like the cricket tune “Rally Round the West Indies” and the various Bob Marley tunes.  The fans are emotional and not shy about shouting advice at the West Indies side encouraging them to “lash” the ball and erupting with joy as a well hit shot drives to the boundary or howls of mocking laughter if the opposing side appeals for LBW or their batsman ducks a bouncer. 

There is always the unexpected too. Years ago when heavy rain interrupted day three of a test match in Antigua a helicopter was dispatched to hover over the wicket for 20 minutes and to help dry the field, as grounds keepers, literally used sponges to soak up the excess water.  During a three-day tour match in St Kitts, play was suspended briefly while a herd of goats slowly grazed their way across the pitch. Unfortunately, nowdays the chances for similar diversions have long gone. All the islands built brand new stadiums prior to hosting the 2007 Cricket World Cup and, therefore, much of the unique character of the old wooden grounds has now faded into the past.  Although this time round during one of the matches, a stray dog somehow wandered through the playing area without much fanfare or notice for that matter. 

Covering a match is relatively easy. Unlike some ovals I have heard, in other parts of the world, you can go just about anywhere you choose around the boundary and getting your preferred shooting position at dawn is not required.  Normally, there are only six or seven photographers at any given match, sometimes fewer, so there is plenty of room.

Of course,  Paradise does have an ugly side too as we experienced during a recent match. when local fans, angered by what they belived was the wrongful dismissal of one of the West Indies players, pelted the field with a 20 minute barrage of plastic bottles containing unfinished sticky liquids.  Fans decided that the three or four foreign photographers sitting in front of the stand were also to blame and zeroed in on our co-ordinates giving us several minutes of West Indian “shock and awe.”  Trying to dodge the incoming plastic carpet bombing while still trying to take pictures  only made it worse.

On another occasion in Jamaica some  years back when the West Indies was on the verge of losing a Test match to Australia, a fan thoughtfully provided me with a couple of rum punches.  Unfortunately his preference was that I should “wear” both drinks as he leaned out of the stand and poured them over me as I concentrated through my lens on the celebrations on the field.  Ohhh and yes, for all you punsters the term “sticky wicket” did come to mind as the hot sun quickly dried the mess to my clothing, skin and equipment. Fortunately, these moments are very few and far between.

One of the more difficult parts of covering cricket in the Windies is the heat. Up to eight
hours a day, many times with no shade, in the blazing equatorial sun can be very uncomfortable.  Now I know the sport is played mostly in hot countries, so nothing new there, but for a lad from the Great White North - Canada - it takes several days at least to adapt to the environment.  A good hat and plenty of sunscreen generously spread over exposed skin, like the basting on a slow-roasting Christmas turkey are obvious musts not to mention what seems like gallons of water consumed hourly.

Another problem under the hot sun is mid-day blahs when the lunch break is long over and tea break is seemingly hours away and play on the pitch is photographically uninspiring, if not outright boring, as batsmen endlessly bat the ball to their feet.  On these occasions, I find dozing off can be a serious threat… now com’on no smug smirks out there, cricket or not, weve all been there. As a result of this, I no longer use camera and lens on a tripod. During a very boring afternoon several years back, I drifted into a sleepy haze in the heat and missed a couple of good pictures as I awoke to celebrations that ended before I could get my eye to the camera.

The good news…. I was the only international photographer there and,  as we all know folks, if nobody else had it, it never happened,  right! Since then, I use a monopod only. It’s funny how a camera and a long heavy lens on a stick beginning to slip from your hands can jolt you back into consciousness if a case of Mad dogs and Englishmen hits again in the mid-day sun.

Now, for all you pina colada drinkers and beach goers out there that think this assignment is all palm trees and umbrella drinks… I say, hah!  When there are breaks, going to the beach and sitting in the hot sun is farthest from my mind.  I just spent several days doing that at the cricket grounds so a little shade or air conditioning indoors is a welcome break and/or change. Another little realized fact is that on three or four of the islands, the beach is nowhere near the hotel where you are staying.  It is vital to stay as close to the cricket grounds as possible. Traffic on some of these islands is horrendously crowded on week days, and, in many cases only one narrow road leads to the grounds. In Grenada, we had to descend a steep and treacherous winding little road with other vehicles seemingly doing Formula One speeds and the road jammed from top to bottom. The other day when we stopped in heavy traffic an inattentive driver ploughed into the back of us with the taxi trunk or rather boot full of camera equipment. Good news…. nothing was damaged.  A week ago, I had to leave the hotel at 6:15am to take a 15-min cab ride to the airport to make a 9:00am flight.  If I left much later, it would have taken at least an hour and probably more to cover the same distance.

And now, flying in the Windies which is the ultimate challenge.  It’s a contest of will and patience.  Last year during the World Cup, I arrived at Kingston airport in Jamaica to take a skedded flight to Barbados and then connect to Guyana.  When I arrived at the counter and handed over my ticket, I was politely told that this flight was now leaving from Montego Bay on the north of the island.  I pointed out that the ticket says it leaves from Kingston and got the answer, “yes sir you are correct, but today it leaves from Montego Bay”….case closed.  Took me three days to get to Guyana. 

There are a couple of airlines that fly jets between the bigger islands but that’s a luxury. Between the cricket islands, there is only one airline and they fly small commuter turboprops that hold about 50 passengers and even less luggage.  Not a pleasant thought for a photographer with 400 or 600mm lenses and all the other assorted stuff we need to carry. You are only allowed 50lbs total and, therefore, you’re constantly paying overweight charges with no guarantee your bags will show up at the other end.  If your bag is over a certain size, it’s the first to be left behind in the event of overweight or lack of room. 

For all you shooters who carry most of your equipment as hand luggage… forget about it. These planes have no room in the overhead lockers so you have to leave it at the foot of the steps to be stored in the hold… which by the way is already full. On a recent flight, a colleague left his carry-on photo gear at the foot of the steps.  As per normal, the baggage handler came over, picked it up and walked back to the terminal as the aircraft door closed and props began to turn… no room mate!! 

Funny enough, when I first began to cover cricket in the Windies, we were still using film and had to carry a portable darkroom along with a big Cabbage Case, with a clunking but at the time, state of the art T1 and oversized Nikon scanner.  I don’t seem to remember having the same problems, but maybe that’s just tendency of people to look back fondly on old times.

And now we are back at the beginning and my opening remarks.  Never be happy when the Australian or any cricket team shows up for the same flight in the West Indies.  Their bags get priority and yours will be neatly stacked on the tarmac waiting for future flights that day, if there are any.  I arrived minus my clothes that time, which I was lucky enough to get six hours later.  Days later, I spoke with some of those same excited supporters and they were still without their bags… ahhhh cricket in the Windies, gotta love it!!