Amboseli's dry lakebed is an all-time favourite place of mine to photograph. The featureless cracked surface extends for miles, making you feel like you could be on the moon. I have spent weeks following elephants as they venture across the lakebed, but only a handful of times have I seen a group of giraffes out on the vast expanse of nothingness where there is no food or water. Giraffes are much better photographed in groups and are complex subjects to work with due to their cautious nature. It is crucial my work has minimal impact on wildlife, so we opt for a "let nature come to you" approach, which often requires hours of waiting and countless failures. Giraffes do not take well to movement and can be spooked even by moving inside a car. We positioned ourselves far ahead of the group, only adjusting our position well before the giraffes were close to us. I knew that if the giraffes came within range of my 200mm lens, I had a chance of materialising this spectacular moment. On two occasions, the giraffes adjusted their direction slightly away from our car, putting them out of reach. We repeated the same process and waited ahead, and finally, we had a head-on view. I loved the moment I shared with the two closest giraffes as they paused and looked directly at me. Their stationary position allowed for a tighter grouping which led to the success of the image. With too larger spacing, the composition would be too loose. After watching the group disappear into the distance, I reviewed the images. I was instantly thrilled with what I had captured because it shows the scale of our planet's tallest land mammal. A low angle was also paramount; the giraffes resemble skyscrapers with their almost never-ending necks and iconic patterns stretching high up into the sky.