“How do you film all that by yourself?” It’s in my comments constantly, and it’s a fair question, because filming outdoor content solo is genuinely one of the hardest parts of what I do—harder than the hunting, most days. So here’s the honest, unglamorous, behind-the-scenes breakdown. No gatekeeping. If you’re thinking about starting your own channel, I hope this saves you some of the mistakes I made.
First, the big truth nobody tells you: the gear matters way less than you think. I built the early audience on a phone and a cheap tripod. If you’re waiting until you can afford the “real” setup to start, you’re waiting for the wrong thing. Start with what’s in your pocket.
The Setup I Run Now
That said, here’s what’s in the kit these days, after a lot of trial and error:
- A main camera for the “A-roll”—the primary footage. I care most about good low-light performance, because the best light in the outdoors is at dawn and dusk when cameras struggle most.
- A small action camera for point-of-view shots and anywhere I don’t want to risk the main body—rain, mud, chest-mounted stuff.
- My phone as a third angle and, honestly, my best tool for vertical TikTok content.
- A lightweight tripod and a couple of small clamp mounts so I can rig a camera to a tree, a branch, or my pack.
- A wireless mic. This is the upgrade that changed everything. People forgive rough video. They will not forgive audio they can’t hear.
Filming Solo: The Real Challenge
Here’s the part that’s genuinely tough. When you’re alone, you are the talent, the camera operator, the sound guy, and the director—often while also trying to actually hunt or hike. That means setting up a shot, walking into frame, doing the thing, walking back, and checking that you got it. And a lot of the time, you didn’t. The camera was rolling on your knees, or the light was wrong, or the moment happened off-frame.
The way I deal with it: I get the actual experience first, camera or no camera, and I film the story around it. A lot of what you see is me recreating a moment I already lived—walking back to a spot, narrating what happened, capturing the b-roll that tells the tale. That’s not fake. That’s just filmmaking. The feeling was real; I’m just building something you can watch out of it afterward.
The Mistakes I Made Early (So You Don’t Have To)
Let me save you some pain with the stuff I got wrong. Early on, I filmed everything in one long angle and wondered why it was boring—the answer was that I had no cutaways, no variety, nothing to cut to. I also ignored audio for way too long, thinking the visuals were what mattered, and I had to go back and re-record narration for a bunch of clips that were unwatchable because you couldn’t hear me over the wind.
The biggest mistake, though, was waiting for perfect conditions and perfect gear before I’d post anything. I sat on footage for months because it wasn’t “good enough,” and all that got me was months of no growth and no practice. The stuff I was embarrassed to post is the stuff that eventually found an audience. Done and posted beats perfect and buried, every time. That one lesson is worth more than any camera.
A Day of Actually Filming
Here’s what a real filming day looks like, minus the glamour. I’m up earlier than I would be if I were only hunting, because I need time to set up angles and get establishing shots in the good early light. Half my brain is on the actual outing and the other half is running a constant checklist—did that clip record, is the mic on, do I have a wide shot and a close-up of that. It’s genuinely a lot to juggle, and some days the filming and the hunting fight each other.
Then there are the days I make a call to just put the camera away and be present—to actually live the moment instead of documenting it. Those days I come home with less footage and, usually, a better memory. Learning when to film and when to just be there is a skill in itself, and I’m still working on it. The content matters, but it’s not the reason I’m out there, and I never want to forget which one is the tail and which is the dog.
TikTok vs. YouTube: Two Different Animals
I film for both, and they could not be more different. TikTok is the hook—vertical, fast, one idea, the first two seconds are everything. If I don’t grab you before you can scroll, none of the rest matters. YouTube is the campfire—horizontal, longer, room to breathe and actually tell the whole story. I shoot with both in mind, grabbing quick vertical clips and longer horizontal sequences in the same outing so I’m not choosing between them later.
The Editing Reality
For every minute you watch, there’s a genuinely absurd amount of footage that didn’t make it. Editing is where the story actually gets made, and it’s where I spend most of my “work” hours. My honest advice for anyone starting: shoot way more than you think you need, especially b-roll. You can’t edit footage you never captured, and the little cutaway shots are what make a video feel finished instead of homemade.
If You’re Thinking About Starting
Do it. Start rough, start with your phone, start before you’re ready. Every creator you admire has a first video they’re embarrassed by, and the only reason they got good is that they started bad and kept going. The woods don’t care about your production value. Neither, it turns out, do the people who’ll become your community.
If this was helpful, the fastest way to see all this in practice is to just watch the stuff—follow me on TikTok for the short version and hit the Watch page for the long-form. And if you start your own thing because of this post, tag me. I want to watch it.
