Connor Trimble has mastered the art of finding perfect angles in some of the world's most dangerous waters. The Ohio native, who now calls Hawaii home, has spent the last decade documenting surfing culture from behind the lens, combining athleticism, artistry, and what he calls a touch of lunacy to capture moments that last mere seconds.
"Being a surf photographer is this weird blend of being part athlete, part artist, part lunatic," Trimble explains. "You're out there in heavy water with thousands of dollars of gear, risking your body to capture a moment that might only last a split second." For the past ten winters, Trimble has been shooting Hawaii's legendary North Shore from the water, driven purely by his love for the ocean and the challenge of documenting its power.
While surf enthusiasts enjoy the final products—stunning photos, sick clips, films, and vlogs—few understand the grueling process behind these captivating images. Making a living as a surf photographer presents constant challenges, as Trimble notes, "There isn't a lot of money in the surf world." To sustain his career, he diversifies his portfolio with influencer trips to Ireland, lifestyle brand shoots, and projects with major companies like Royal Caribbean, where he worked aboard the world's biggest cruise ship.
Trimble's current schedule reflects the demanding nature of his profession. "Today I'm up at 7 a.m. and editing a short surf film on Luke Tema for Hurley called 'Propulsion,' which documents his transition from the junior team to the senior team after a crazy breakthrough year and making the QS," he says. His day doesn't end there—he's flying to Maui to follow Edo Tanas, last year's Molokai to Oahu and Triple Crown foil race winner for F-ONE, creating what he describes as a "small budget Drive to Survive" cinematic short film.
When major swells hit Pipeline, Trimble's preparation begins the night before. "If there's a Pipe swell, I clean my gear and oil it the night before and pack everything except for batteries," he explains. "Then I usually get up at around 5:30 a.m. and make the drive from Town to the North Shore to beat traffic. Early bird gets the worm on the North Shore." Upon arrival, he conducts aerial reconnaissance using his drone, burning through an entire battery to survey currents, sand formations, and wave angles hitting the reef.
A typical shooting day involves up to four hours in the water during morning sessions, followed by lunch at Pupukea Grill, then returning for several more hours of shooting through sunset. The day concludes with late-night editing sessions. "It's an absolute grind for me when the waves are good, and this past season was absolutely incredible with how good it was, but I think I made the drive 40 times and it was brutal," Trimble recalls.
Navigating the social dynamics of surf photography requires understanding unwritten rules similar to surfing etiquette. "Know your place. Period," Trimble states about Pipeline. "New guys stay in the back, and don't swim into the bowl unless you know the rhythms of the lineup. You'll get a lot more respect if you hold your own and are respectful on the big days, but don't rush the process." The photographer emphasizes that respect governs interactions: if someone's in a better position or it's clearly their moment, you honor that. When someone gets worked by a wave, you check on them.
"It's competitive but also collaborative in a weird way," Trimble observes. "Everyone's trying to create something meaningful, but there's an unspoken code of respect that keeps things flowing." Some surfers naturally synchronize with photographers better than others. Ivan Florence ranks among Trimble's favorites to shoot. "We naturally sync in the lineup because he likes to go for the waves that line up with where I like to be," he explains. "He's got this calm confidence and effortless flow that's so fun to shoot. He's not trying to force anything, he's just doing his thing, and it always translates beautifully on camera."
Conversely, some connections remain elusive. "For whatever reason I really never line up with John John, which I've always thought was funny," Trimble admits. The unpredictable nature of these partnerships adds another layer of complexity to an already challenging profession.
The physical demands and risks of surf photography cannot be understated. Photographers must navigate powerful currents, duck-dive with bulky equipment, and simultaneously read both surfers and natural lighting conditions. "You're constantly putting yourself in the exact wrong place at the exact right time," Trimble explains. "You're not trying to get the wave of the day, you're trying to get run over by it. Safely." One moment of poor judgment can result in being slammed onto dry reef with over $10,000 worth of gear strapped to your wrist.
"With slabs and shallow reef breaks, if you're out of position, even by a few feet, you're toast," Trimble warns. "But sometimes you have to risk it for the biscuit"—a philosophy where risk tolerance meets composure and creativity. His most terrifying experience occurred at Back Door during a massive swell. "What people don't realize is that when it's really big, you get sucked around like crazy because there really isn't a channel," he recounts.
During that particular session, Trimble had been shooting for three hours when conditions reached maximum intensity—proper 10-foot-plus waves at Back Door. "I pushed it too far in to try and get a shot on the first wave of the set and that sucked me towards the impact zone, and most shallow part of the reef," he remembers. "I shot the second wave and got sucked another 15 yards closer and the third wave of the set ended up being the biggest and I was in 3-4 feet of water with a 12-foot wave about to land on my head."
The resulting punishment was severe: "I got slammed so hard and dragged across the reef. Then another wave came and picked me up somehow and slammed me again and I landed on my butt." Despite the brutal beating, the session produced an epic photograph of big-wave legend Billy Kemper, demonstrating the photographer's dedication to his craft even in life-threatening situations.
For Trimble, these moments of terror and triumph justify the risks inherent in surf photography. "In the end, it's all worth it," he reflects. "When it all clicks, that moment when nature, light, and human expression align: it's worth everything. That's the feeling I chase and why I keep showing up." His words capture the essence of what drives surf photographers to repeatedly place themselves in harm's way—the pursuit of that perfect moment where ocean power meets human grace, frozen forever in a single frame.
