Working the 62nd Rolex 24 Daytona Motorsport Endurance Race from the Wrong Side of the Fence2/9/2026 At 7:30 p.m., standing behind a catch fence at the Rolex 24 Daytona with aching back and feet, camera batteries half dead, and hearing the roar of the cars on track over my ear protection, it became clear that the Rolex 24 isn’t so much a race you cover as a photographer, but rather so much as one you survive. I’d arrived at the track, Daytona International Speedway, around 9 a.m. with a full camera kit, big expectations, and rough outline of where to station myself for the best angles to nail the shots. I was full of adrenalin, excitement, and a plan for my first live motorsports race. Twenty-four hours later, I left with exhaustion, humbleness, and wisdom. A 24-hour endurance race forces you to rethink everything: how you pace yourself, how you adapt to brutal lighting conditions, how you combat changing weather, how you work around and through six-foot chain-link fences and restricted sightlines, and how you keep making meaningful images when fatigue and lack of front-row access is doing everything to deflate your creativity. Even though I am a professional photographer, attending his first motorsports race – yet alone a 24-hour endurance race, as a spectator photographer without credentialed access, the reality wasn’t pit row access or trackside photo access inside the fan restriction zones. It was more about trouble shooting and where I could gain access, such as from the grandstands, shooting above the six-foot fences, and working the angles to best create some interesting images. I spent the time at the racetrack navigating those constraints, carrying all my gear, adapting to changing light, and trying to build a magazine worthy visual story all from places never really designed for photographers. Motorsport photography, especially for spectators, is often described as finding a corner, settling in, and waiting for the action to come to you. A 24-hour endurance race, like the Rolex 24, quickly dismantles that idea. The length of the event itself creates opportunities to work the same sections of track repeatedly, revisiting locations under drastically different conditions, as the light shifts from pre-race morning activity to harsh midday sun, through sunset, darkness, and finally sunrise the next day to restart the cycle. Managing those transitions isn’t just a matter of turning up ISO; it requires anticipating how angles, backgrounds, and sightlines evolve with the light. In the week leading up to the race, I spent hours on Reddit threads and YouTube videos building a loose plan, identifying not just where to shoot, but what time of days specific locations would work best. That plan met reality the moment I entered the infield carrying a 20-pound kit bag, extra clothing, and food for the day. My first priority became purely logistical: finding somewhere to stash a tripod and folding step stool which are items banned from garages and grandstand access. A wrong turn led to a “Drivers Only” gate, a brief denial of access, and an unexpected interaction with a fellow spectator, Raul, who has attended the event for over a decade and after a short conversation offered space at his campsite to store my gear. Only then could I begin to walk the track and check whether my carefully researched locations lived up to expectations once the race and crowds were in motion. One attractive feature about the Rolex 24 Daytona is there is no assigned seating and you’re free to sit wherever you like within the grandstands. I quickly realized that pacing would be a major factor due to my poor night of sleep the night before, my trek into the grandstands to see the start of the race, and my devouring my packed lunch before the race even began. Another common assumption is that night racing is where motorsport photography either becomes impossible or purely technical, that once the sun goes down, the job is reduced to noise management, slower shutter speeds, and accepting whatever the light gives you. However, the night hours at the Rolex 24 were some of the most visually distinctive of the entire race, precisely because of how imperfect the light was. Mixed color temperatures from LEDs, sodium vapor lamps, headlights, and brake glow transformed familiar corners into entirely different scenes. Angles that felt flat during the day gained depth at night; others collapsed into shadow. Shooting at night rewarded patience. The challenge wasn’t just exposure—it was learning to see past the technical compromises and recognizing when atmosphere, motion, and mood mattered more than totally clean files. “Be prepared” isn’t just a Boy Scout motto—it became a survival strategy for both my gear choices and my mental approach to covering the Rolex 24. My roughly 20-pound kit packed in my LowePro Flipside 300 AWII backpack included a Sony A7R III, Sony vertical battery grip, a Sony 70–200mm f/2.8, a Sony 200–600mm f/5.6–6.3, a Zeiss 85mm f/1.8, and a Zeiss 25mm f/2.8, spare batteries, memory card, memory cards, and more memory cards. Going in, I expected the 200–600mm to live on my camera, but in practice, it proved valuable only in specific locations and early in the race. As light faded, faster glass mattered more than reach, and I found myself relying heavily on the 70–200mm and 85mm throughout the night. Just as important, I built the kit with storytelling in mind. Without credentials, I knew a wide lens would be essential for capturing atmosphere, while longer focal lengths let me reach pit road and document moments of refueling, tire changes, and quick repairs from spectator access where possible. ccess limitations also meant trying to get creative with elevation changes. In addition to the massive grandstand access, my ticket included garage access which has a roofed spectator section for height to shoot over campers and race car haulers. I also carried both an old square folding step stool (15 inches) and a new $20 circular collapsible stool (18 inches), both to help me shoot over six-foot fencing on the track infield and clean up sightlines. Shooting through chain-link can work if you’re wide open and pressed close, but multiple layers of fencing quickly defeat that approach. The collapsible circular stool worked brilliantly as a little taller stool—until it didn’t—failing spectacularly one layer of breaking plastic at a time with me on board for the down elevator ride. Thankfully, it collapsed like a controlled building demolition floor-by-floor collapse, and there wasn’t a gear incident or bodily harm. The square folding step stool then became the real workhorse: which I found sturdier, more comfortable, and tall enough for most locations. One Reddit tip that also proved invaluable was a cut pool noodle placed over fencing to protect arms, hands, and lenses, while providing a stable resting point. I need to figure out a better way to carry the 200-600 lens on a solid monopod. Don’t forget supportive shoes for miles of walking, and clothing layers for the Daytona track’s weather swing from sun to cold night air. Don’t forget about food - sandwiches, trail mix, and/or means to pick up a vendor meal. Ear plugs and headphones help and getting plenty of rest the week before is a must! “Being prepared” becomes less about overpacking and more about lasting long enough to keep shooting. One needs the stamina and resolve of Robert Redford in the movie, Jeremiah Johnson. As the end of the 24-hour endurance race came to a close, the most valuable takeaway from the Rolex 24 wasn’t about a single frame or technical breakthrough; it was truly about a shift in perspective. My coverage as a first-time attendee of this 24-hour event helped me realize that every image doesn’t have to be technically perfect, nor does the lack of credentials really limit the story you can tell, at least at this venue. Patience and pacing matter more than position. Adaptability matters more than gear, and showing up (mentally and physically) becomes the real challenge. For photographers working from the grandstands, fences, and infield, success isn’t measured by how close you get to the cars, but rather by how well you endure and persevere the race alongside them, learning to see differently as the light, the crowd, and your own energy change. Working the Rolex 24 from the wrong side of fence can be accomplished and enjoyable! I will return!
#rolex24 #daytona #motorsportphotography David Turner [email protected] www.flashfactorphotography.com
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AuthorDavid Turner is a passionate photographer based in Savannah, GA, and the owner of Flash Factor Photography, a leading photography studio specializing in capturing timeless moments through expertly crafted portraits. With years of experience in the industry, David has built a reputation for his creative vision, attention to detail, and ability to make every subject feel comfortable and confident in front of the camera. Archives
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