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One day I decided to break from the archaeological work in Tuva Valley and visit a hospital's maternity ward to take pictures. Two women, who had given birth the night before, lay in their beds watching the nurses wrap their babies so tightly in blankets that the infants almost looked cocooned.
From the window I saw the new father of one of these babies pull up on his motorcycle. He hadn't seen his child yet, but the nurses wouldn't let him in. They don't allow men into the maternity ward because they want the mothers to rest. "Fathers get their chance when we release the women," as one nurse put it. "After that they have to be there for the rest of the child's life." Well, this particular father couldn't wait. He climbed up on the windowsill and looked in with great awe at his firstborn resting in his wife's arms. It was a very touching moment.
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I wanted to take an aerial shot of the excavation site but the surrounding landscape was very flat, which made it impossible to climb up anything while holding my camera. So I called a nearby village and requested a cherry-picker. But the operator had done some hard partying the night before. He was in miserable shape when he arrived. From there the situation deteriorated. Just as dusk fell and a beautiful light spread over the site, the cherry-picker broke down. I didn't see it for another week. It turned out that it needed new parts, and the closest city was some 70 miles (110 kilometers) away. There's nothing more frustrating than to see all the elements of a perfect picture in play and then have a mechanical failure stop you from capturing it.
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A large part of the Scythians' success can be attributed to their horses, which is why I decided to try and take some pictures from horseback. I ended up riding for an hour and a half, carrying a couple of lenses, a camera body, and a walkie talkie. On top of that, I also had to guide my horse, take pictures, and frequently change film—no small feat!
But my horse-riding experience didn't stop there. I tried to slide off the back to dismount, but as I started going down, a metal pin from the saddle straps caught the backside of my jeans. I didn't get injured, but my pants did. It ripped them all the way up. I must have looked pretty funny, standing there with my rump exposed.
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