From the time I got my first car at 17, I have had a recurring nightmare that my car ends up submerged in a lake. Fast forward to a couple of years ago, when I found myself driving down a narrow causeway between two flooded cranberry bogs in the heart of the New Jersey Pine Barrens in search of an elusive bird (because apparently my survival instincts clock out whenever birds are involved). I didn’t know it at the time, but these sugar sand roads, as they’re called locally, are made of fine sand that can easily shift beneath your vehicle. About halfway across, I realized the road was becoming uncomfortably narrow, and I could see a spot up ahead where half of it had crumbled into the flooded bog. Nope. Absolutely not. Unfortunately, my only option was to go back the way I’d come: backing up more than 100 yards in a perfectly straight line with mere inches to spare on either side (also known as parallel parking at the Jersey shore in July). It was one of those “hmm, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea” moments. The word harrowing comes to mind. So do several other words I won’t write here.

Obviously, I lived to tell the tale, and my car did not become a permanent fixture in the bog, though I’m sure it would have made a very confusing habitat feature for the next birder. Some weeks later, as I related this experience to a friend, he laughed and said, “I can see your headstone now: Here lies Stephanie. She just had to get closer.”

And just like that, Closer to Wild was born—from equal parts curiosity, determination, and poor judgment.

Through photography, I can get closer to wildlife without risking life or limb…or car.

Or at least, that’s the plan. Please remind me of that if I ever start a sentence with, “I think the road is probably fine.”