I spent all of last year (pretty much) in the field, either science-ing or photographing, sometimes both. I’ve been all over the country working on photos for a book, and on lots of island trips to do seabird research. When I describe my job to people, I often get told I’m living the dream. And I am! I love what I do.

But what I think a lot of people don’t realise is that even living the dream is hard work.

In my case, it’s long hours, it’s a lot of time alone, away from family and friends, it’s physically exhausting and often mentally exhausting as well. Seabird fieldwork is often nocturnal, and when you’re downing coffee at seven in the evening with the prospect of staying up til one, sleeping til three then getting up again to do more work, you begin to question your life choices. But the results we get – the data and, for me, the photographs – make it all worthwhile.

There are so many highs that come along with this work. I get to visit amazing islands with a host of gorgeous species. I get to hang out with my favourite people. I have so many rewarding experiences with wildlife, some of which I’m lucky enough to make images of.

But there are also super lows, and that’s the balance of it. You can’t have one without the other. I’ve traipsed forests in pouring rain all day searching for tiny birds that just would not cooperate for images. I’ve wandered islands at night trying to find shearwaters in burrows and not finding any, despite them calling in the air above. I’ve been lonely more than I’d like to admit. I’ve got my car stuck up a gravel river road on my own and had to dig it out with my hands (always keep a small shovel in your car). I’ve lain in my leaking tent, curled up away from a growing puddle, and contemplated why anyone would think seabird fieldwork on an island in September was a good idea. It stormed at us for three days, and I forgot what the word ‘dry’ meant.

And then the sun came out. Warm light shone on energetically flowering Poor Knights Lillies that festoon the cliff-faces in hanging (or perching) gardens. The sun and wind began to dry off the forest, and I risked a plunge into the bone-achingly cold water to swim with friendly snapper and admire the underwater world that the Poor Knights are famous for.

There are highs, there are lows. It’s a cycle. And the good always comes round, sooner or later. The key to finding the good is perseverance. The best experiences, the best images, the best work always comes from sticking it out, no matter how much you want to give it up. My best images from this year have come from staying longer, trying again, and pushing myself to get out of my tent at ridiculous o’clock to watch shearwaters leave the colony before dawn. Our best results in the field come from when we push ourselves to spend the extra time, get up an hour earlier, spend an hour longer.

The other side of this is knowing when you need to take a break. You can’t be all go all the time – that’s something I’m still learning. Time off to recover and reflect is very important, because it makes you able to persist when you need to.

Living the dream is hard work – if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be worth doing. And that’s why I love what I do so much.