Soul Over Perfection.

263 km to Banneux with the Leica SL3 Reporter and the Noctilux.

It was a day that just felt right from the start.

It was already climbing towards 30 degrees when I set off this morning, the Road Glide humming steadily beneath me as always — alive and honest. With my camera bag on and two lenses in, I set off for: Banneux.

Today, I had something new with me: My brand new Leica SL3 Reporter.

The Road.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t need to.

I took the quiet roads — the ones that wind through the countryside and don’t require thought, just feeling. No traffic. No stress. No straight lines. Just one beautiful bend after another, each inviting you to lean in a little more and trust the bike and yourself.

On a Harley, a road like that is so much more than just a route. It’s a conversation.

‘With every curve, I could feel the freedom — that thing which is so difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t ride.’

It’s not about speed. It’s not about noise. It’s about the moment when everything else simply disappears, leaving only you, the machine and the road ahead. That’s what today gave me. And it gave it to me completely, without asking for anything in return.

It was 30 degrees and windy.

I barely stopped. When it’s that hot, stopping means standing in the heat. And why would you?

263 kilometres. The whole loop. Every kilometre was a pleasure.

The new windscreen on the Road Glide works well. But when it’s 30 degrees, you still want the air to circulate. It’s not something to fight. It’s all part of the experience. That constant, warm, rushing wind is better than any air conditioning ever invented.

Some rides are about getting somewhere. Today’s ride was the destination.

The SL3 Reporter is impressive. Truly.

I’ve carried a lot of cameras on a lot of rides. With some, you have to be careful. With some, you worry. The Leica SL3 Reporter is neither of those things.

I swapped my entire Hasselblad system to get it. Every piece of it. Gone.

That is not a decision you make lightly. But I made it without hesitation and have not looked back. The SL3 Reporter plays a clear role in my work: scanning negatives with precision; rugged, reliable work in challenging situations. For that, it is the right tool. Completely.

Is it my workhorse? No — I’ll be honest about that.

However, it feels rugged in a way that is immediately clear the moment you pick it up. It’s not heavy. Not clunky. It’s just solid and purposeful, like it was built to go wherever you go without ever complaining. You just strap it on and ride.

And then there’s the EVF. I have to talk about the EVF. It genuinely stopped me in my tracks.

I have looked through many electronic viewfinders over the years — some decent, most forgettable. The SL3 Reporter’s EVF is, without any exaggeration, the best I have ever seen. The resolution, brightness and almost complete lack of lag come together to create something that feels closer to an optical finder than digital glass has any right to feel.

Composing and focusing through those M-lenses in harsh midday sun on the road to Banneux was a pure pleasure. No more guesswork. No squinting. Just the scene, clean and immediate.

And the detail in the files? Remarkable. Sharp. Technically flawless.

But the word ‘flawless’ is exactly what makes me start to doubt.

I don’t shoot for perfection.

Here’s the truth about how I see photography. I am not chasing perfection. I never have been.

What I’m chasing is the soul of a moment. That invisible essence that a technically perfect image can reveal on the outside, but which sometimes fails to evoke a feeling inside. The atmosphere. The texture of the light. The weight of a second in time that will never come again.

And that is where analogue photography brings something extra to the table.

It’s something that’s very hard to define and impossible to replicate. A grain that breathes. A tone that settles. An imperfection that somehow conveys more truth than any pixel ever could.

Film does not flatter. Film does not correct. It simply records what was there — the light, the moment, the feeling — and returns it to you with an honesty that takes your breath away.

Every time.

The truth about where my heart lives.

The SL3 impresses me. It really does. The detail, the build quality and the viewfinder — it’s an extraordinary machine, and I mean every word.

But what about when I talk about feeling? When I talk about what truly brings me alive behind a camera?

It’s the M series. Always. Without hesitation.

The M is my baby. There’s something special about the way an M sits in your hands, how it works with you rather than for you, and how every frame is a decision and a commitment. It’s irreplaceable. Not by anything.

The one that has me most alive right now is my Leica MP. My Leica MP.

I bought it recently and I still can’t get over it. Every roll of film I put through that camera is an event. It’s not just a shooting session — it’s an experience. The ritual of loading. The discipline of 36 frames. The patience required to wait for the light to be exactly right, since you can’t just delete and try again.

You have to be fully present. Fully and completely present.

When the images come back and you hold a frame up to the light, revealing not just the scene, but the feeling of being there, that is everything. That is why I am here.

The MP brings me to life. Every single roll.

The glass: Noctilux 50 mm f/0.9 and 24 mm f/2.8.

Two lenses. Two completely different personalities.

The Leica Noctilux 50 mm f/0.9, when used at its widest aperture, is almost unreasonable. The depth of field collapses to almost nothing and the background simply dissolves, creating a soft, organic effect that cannot be replicated with a preset. In the chapel at Banneux, shooting in available light, it captured everything the room had to offer. It is tack sharp where it matters, and the way it melts into bokeh is something else entirely. It’s the kind of image that makes you stop scrolling.

For me, the Noctilux is one of the best lenses I have ever used. Full stop. There is nothing quite like it: the way it sees in the dark; the way it renders light; the way it transforms an ordinary moment into something almost cinematic. It’s not just a lens. It’s a point of view.

The 24 mm f/2.8 is a different story, though, and I will be honest about that. On the M body, this lens has always worked perfectly. No issues. Never a problem. However, when using the SL3, I noticed some vignetting on certain frames, which I have never experienced with this lens on an M body before. This required correction in post-production, which is not the end of the world, but it is worth bearing in mind if you plan to use your M lenses on the SL3 Reporter.

The lens is still beautiful. The rendering, the colours and the way it places you inside a scene are all still there. Just adapt your workflow accordingly.

On the SL3, the Noctilux is pure magic. Handle the 24mm with awareness.

Banneux:

The village of Banneux-Notre-Dame sits quietly in the hills to the east of Liège. It is a small village. A place of stillness.

After arriving hot and windswept from the winding roads, stepping into that silence is a whole other experience. I photographed whatever caught my eye. I let the place settle around me. Then I pointed the Road Glide back towards home, back onto those same beautiful, empty bends.

It was a good day. A very good day.

Tonight, as I load a fresh roll into the MP and think about the next ride, the next light and the next moment worth chasing, I feel…

That is everything.

Thanks

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Download the Route.

Mol to Banneux via the quiet, curly back roads. No motorways. No stress. Just the good roads. Load it into your GPS or navigation app and go.

A complete 263 km round trip. Allow yourself time. Don’t rush it.

The road is the point.