I was following orangutans in Borneo with my wife, Cheryl Knott, a primatologist who has spent 30 years working in Gunung Palung national park, in the Indonesian part of Borneo. I am a biologist by background, and did my PhD research in rainforest ecology in Borneo, before I went into photography and film-making. I saw so much destruction in the rainforest back in the 90s, and it dawned on me that I could publish scientific articles that maybe 10 people would read – or an article in National Geographic that 10 million people would see.

I was getting increasingly serious about my photography while working on my PhD when I got funding from the National Geographic Society for field research. Through that connection, I was able to show them my pictures and eventually I published an article in the magazine about my work, which in turn meant I was able to get an assignment to document Cheryl’s orangutan PhD.

This fruiting fig tree was unique, in that it didn’t have any branches connecting it to other trees, so the orangutan had to climb right up the roots growing on the trunk to reach the canopy. I had been thinking about getting a picture like this for years: a wide shot looking down on an orangutan in its habitat. I was on the ground when one first passed me and I thought: “OK, it’s going to come back tomorrow – there’s a lot of fruit there.” I went and got my gear, climbed the tree and rigged up three camera mounts with different viewpoints.

While it was still dark the next morning, I put the cameras up and, over the next three days, another two orangutans visited. I had a remote control on the ground so when the orangutan was climbing, I triggered the camera. Had I been up the tree myself, I would never have got the shot.

I do a lot of bird photography, often from hides. You effectively have to make yourself invisible to get a shot. But that doesn’t work with orangutans. I’ve built hides up in the canopy where I’m totally camouflaged and birds, gibbons and monkeys all come, not noticing me. But an orangutan always knows you’re there.

They are not aggressive toward people, generally. I’m drawn to them because they’re one of the great apes – our closest relatives – but they’re much harder to photograph and study than, say, chimpanzees or gorillas, because they spend very little time on the ground and don’t live in social groups.

This image won me the Wildlife Photographer of the Year award in 2016. I think its success is due to the perspective. Most of the orangutan pictures I’ve taken have been with a long lens from down on the ground, or from a hill with an eye-level view. So being able to get a wide shot looking down – that’s probably what captured the judges’ interest. There are so many great wildlife photographs out there: to win, you need to shoot something in a unique way.

I do all kinds of nature photography, from underwater to big mammals to insects. But if I had to pick one thing, birds are my biggest passion. You have to be patient, keep trying new things and putting in the time, waiting for the animals to show up, for good light, all that stuff. There are definitely frustrating moments: like trying to photograph a bird of paradise, sitting in a hide for a week, and they never come back. Or you don’t get any good behaviour to capture. Or it rains. There can be times when you spend a week, get nothing and have to give up. But it beats sitting in an office in front of a computer all day.

Tim Laman’s CV