PNW Travelogue - Day Nine

I left the bed & breakfast in Lincoln City the following morning with visions of finally getting some shots at Cape Kiwanda in decent weather. That… uh, kind of happened? At first, the weather was absolutely lousy, and Kiwanda doesn’t really have anywhere to hide from the rain, which was exactly my experience the first time around. I got out of the car for all of 5 minutes before deciding I wasn’t excited to go through that again.

Don’t let that little patch of blue fool you, it was not coming my way. That menacing grey however, oh yes, that was heading in my direction.

I got back in my car and drove aimlessly further north, ending up at McPhillips Beach. I did not realize that the entrance would quickly become a terrifyingly steep dirt road with massive potholes, but I managed to avoid bottoming out the car and parked in the upper lot. The sky over Cape Kiwanda still looked dark with storm, but just a few miles down the road where I was, it wasn’t nearly as bad. I did have to wait out a band of rain for a few minutes, but then I had a window where I could explore the beach. Braver souls than me navigated all the way down to the water just to hang out for a bit.

The storm clouds were still sitting over Cape Kiwanda like a guest that won’t leave, so I drove even further down the road just to kill more time. I eventually stumbled upon Sitka Sedge, and with no maps and no plan, I decided to take a walk. There was an older couple on the path giggling like schoolchildren because they were high as kites, but they also helpfully pointed out the giant blue heron in the lake, and all the white egrets on the other side.

The heron was also not terribly keen on the weather. Even though he was already wet. (yes, I’m aware he’s too far away for you to make out, but trust me, that little dot is a heron. really.)

It rained off and on the whole time I was walking around, but it never got bad enough to where I wish I’d just stayed in the car. That said, there were a few times I looked up at the sky as it started to drizzle and asked that it be kind to me today. “Just ONE DAY without wet feet. Come on. Please?” I knew that eventually, one of the paths would lead me to the ocean, but I got pretty well turned around before finding it. The view was nice enough, and it was a pleasant way to spend an hour.

Cape Kiwanda, as seen from Sitka Sedge.

On the way back to my car, I started to see more people and the sky was beginning to clear. I figured there was a good chance Cape Kiwanda was beginning to clear up as well, so I headed back south.

The clouds were still pretty intense in places, but I had faith that they were moving out rather than closer. I still kept an eye on them, mentally waggling a finger and telling them to stay over there. At the Cape, there’s a steep hill you have to get up to reach the sand dunes, and the earlier rain made that climb slightly easier.

Some people climb this hill and then run back down. Repeatedly.

After climbing up and down the massive dunes and even seeing a rainbow, I decided that while other people love Cape Kiwanda, I think I have seen all it has to offer for me personally. I drove further north to Oceanside Beach, where I was still finding myself constantly battling the storm clouds. I got out to take a walk on the beach, but in truth, I missed out on the best view as I was coming into town, and that road was hairy at best, so I wasn’t motivated to go back just for a picture.

The second best view of Oceanside Beach, it turns out, is from Cape Meares, which was next on my itinerary. The skies were changing fast by this point. One moment, that rock face had sun on it, and then it was gone as quickly as it came. I was fascinated by those two homes perched far out on the cliff’s edge, with nothing but the ocean before them. The way the winds must shake the house and the rain batter the windows.

Imagine the money it must take to own that property.

I spent maybe 30 minutes at Cape Meares, and in that time it went from being so sunny that the glare off the water made photography nearly impossible, to the wind kicking up a warning. Below is the last picture I took. I recognized the darkness of the clouds and the way the water was starting to look scary, and I could also just feel it in the air. I began walking back through the woods to my car with some urgency. I was beginning to debate running. There was another group on the trail in front of me, and I decided to hell with looking calm and broke into a casual jog. I got out of the woods and was about 30 yards from my car when the sky opened up. I got to my car and jumped in just as it started to hail! Less than a half centimeter in diameter, but considering that it was so sunny I was cursing the glare not 15 minutes earlier, the sudden appearance of hail was a surprise. When people talk about the changeable weather on the Oregon coast, it’s not hyperbole.

Final warning.

From here, I had originally intended to go to Oswald West to watch the sunset, but I was also very hungry and needed real food. I decided to switch up my plans, go to Cannon Beach for an early dinner, and then hop over to Hug Point for sunset instead. I walked out of the restaurant to a few elk having themselves an early dinner as well, munching on someone’s landscaping. Locals confirmed that elk are a real problem, as they can do quite a bit of damage to your plants, and they can be really difficult to chase off.

I hightailed it back up to Hug Point and got there right as the light was getting good. I was far from having it to myself, which is almost always going to be the case for any coastal Oregon location that’s worth seeing. Just like the photographer at Bandon trying to pull off a shoot on a public beach, you accept that everyone gets to enjoy the beauty of nature. Yes, even if they’re in your shot taking selfies. Dozens and dozens of selfies.

At least I got to use her as a prop in one of my images to show scale.

I could see clouds beginning to form along the horizon, which meant there was a good chance we wouldn’t get any afterglow, so I set about making the best of the time I had before the sunset. The golden light was making all the rock look red.

The tide was starting to recede enough to where it was possible to get over to the waterfall if you timed it well. I sprinted around the bend right after a high wave, since those rarely come one right after another, and made it to the other side. There are a lot of similarities between the image below and the one I took back in 2020, but the weather conditions are wildly different, giving it an entirely different feel. (I have this image printed large and hanging on my wall.)

Standing on the edge of the river leading from the waterfall into the ocean, I managed to capture the movement of both the water going out to the ocean and the incoming waves, with the glass-like stillness of tidewater between them.

I hopped back across the bend to the main Hug Point beach and found a large family in what looked like their Sunday best finery standing on the beach, kids running around. They asked if the waterfall was on the other side and I confirmed that it was, and gave them advice on how to time getting there. In groups of 3 or 4, they ran across, full of smiles and laughter.

Afterwards, I got in my car and drove up to Seaside in the darkness and prepared for a day of seeing two old favorites: Oswald West and Ecola.

PNW Travelogue - Day Eight

The high wind advisory had been coming for a while, and this was the day it really hit us hard. I had experienced some strong gusts out at Cape Blanco a few days earlier, but this day was far more intense.

The first place I went was Seal Rock State Recreation Site. The wind was not kidding around, and the tide was too high and too unpredictable to venture onto the beach safely. I stuck to the trails along the coast, but couldn’t get a good composition that showed off how truly amazing that place is.

I drove further up towards Yachina Head Outstanding Natural Area, which is kind of a silly name, but they’re not lying. It is pretty outstanding. When I stopped at the ranger station at the entrance, the woman cautioned me to park into the wind, otherwise it could rip the door off my car. Well. That’s exciting to consider. I did as she instructed because this wasn’t a situation where I was willing to test my luck, and as I opened the door to get out of my car, it nearly knocked me over. My weather app said wind gusts around 50mph, but I later come to learn that on that small peninsula, it was a fair bit higher.

One of my favorite images from the whole trip.

Once again, it doesn’t matter how insane the conditions are, other folks are out there taking pictures and persevering whatever the weather is throwing down. In fact, see if you can spot the person in the image above. I watched with some amount of unease as they both got far too close to the shore, knowing just how unpredictable sneaker waves can be. I chatted with another ranger who was standing in the exact spot on the observation deck where the wind doesn’t rip your head off. Even a slight movement to either side, gale force winds, but in that one specific spot, it was nothing more than a light breeze. Wild!

Temperamental is the name of the game when it comes to weather on the Oregon coast. The image above and the one below were taken less than 30 minutes apart. The clouds parted for a very brief window of time before the heavy skies and rain came back.

At this point in the day, I was kind of in the no man’s land between larger towns, coming up against the end of lunch, and I was all out of snacks in the car. I tried to find something closer, but Depoe Bay ended up being my best option, so I drove past some of the other things I wanted to see to grab food at a charming little place called Whale Bites Cafe. They served me a sandwich larger than my head, and I wandered the town afterwards to keep the food coma from setting in. Depoe Bay is one of my favorite small towns on the Oregon coast, even if it is quite touristy.

This shot doesn’t do it justice. Those waves can easily get 20ft or more above the railing, and you can get utterly soaked just from walking on the other side of the street. Depoe Bay is known for this. People come on purpose to get soaked. I’d had quite enough of that by this point.

I drove back to Otter Crest Loop, but didn’t stop at the waterfall because a couple guys were hanging around the trailhead, taking up the only legal parking spot while also looking a little sketchy. I did stop briefly to take a picture of this epic home location.

I went out to Boiler Bay State Scenic Viewpoint, and then sat in the car for 15 minutes waiting for the rain + hail + wind combination to let up a little. I would get out of my car, try to take a few pictures, flee back. Get out again, make it partway to the coast, run away. I was dressed for the occasion in multiple waterproof layers, but there were some crazy people in nothing more than a hoodie and jeans. Every time a new wave of weather would hit, we’d laugh at ourselves and each other.

I was in contact with the bed & breakfast owner in Lincoln City, and since I was the only guest, I found myself having to coordinate an arrival time more than I would need to for a normal hotel. I decided to pop into Fogarty Creek before heading up to check in, remembering that I’d been there briefly a few years earlier. The weather was still alternating between dismal and tolerable, and for a very very brief moment, the sun peeked out amidst the intense storm clouds.

After getting checked into the b&b with a view right out onto the water, I made the rather dubious decision to go out to Neskowin Beach to see Proposal Rock. I knew the weather hadn’t actually cleared yet, and we were still in for a night of heavy storms, but I spent most of the trip feeling like I had to make use of every single minute of daylight. That’s the downside of traveling for photography - the urge to See All The Things even when you should be staying warm and cozy in your room and maybe, oh I don’t know, RELAXING.

In order to get to Neskowin Beach, I had to drive through Suislaw National Forest, and with the sky still very much overcast and angry, the mountain pass was quite dark. Which is how I nearly died. With the high winds and heavy rain, a sizable pine had fallen onto the road and was blocking 2 of the 3 lanes. There are no lights along the road, and I barely had enough time to dodge into the oncoming to avoid hitting it. By sheer luck, no one was coming in the other direction, and I spent the next mile being thankful for my quick reflexes while trying to get my heart rate back down.

When I got to Proposal Rock, most sane people were leaving to head home for dinner. The wind was hitting something fierce, but I felt lucky that the rain was clearing. Or so I thought. (foreshadowing!)

There was another couple on the beach, but they were wandering barefoot through the streams of water and generally running around having a grand time. As the rain came back with with a vengeance, they decided to wander off down the beach to … I mean, I have no idea where. But it made for a nice composition in between getting sand and rain blown into my face.

Also, can you imagine living there, right on the water and with a view of Proposal Rock? Downside: everyone looking into your windows.

I spent far too long stubbornly trying to wait out the rain and brutal winds, hunkered down by some rocks that shielded me a bit. The weather didn’t much improve, so I took one last shot of the fading light and went back to my car. To my surprise, the tree that nearly ended my life was not only gone, but so well cleaned up that I started to feel like I had hallucinated it. I had only been gone a little over an hour, though I imagine they take things like that very seriously out there.

When I got back to the b&b, I was very grateful for the warm room tucked away in the attic of this old house on the coast, listening to the rain pelt the window as I fell asleep.

Don’t let those clear skies fool you, it was still pelting rain as I took the picture.

PNW Travelogue - Day Seven

Then the storms rolled in, and the Oregon coast reminded me what it’s capable of. I was moving hotels from Bandon to Yachats this day, so I had all my stuff in the car, which at least meant that I had several extra layers, extra socks, two rain jackets, and some left over snacks. I would need each one of those things at various points in the day.

I probably should have hit up Heceta Head lighthouse the day before when the weather was less dismal, but honestly, I kind of love the vibe of the Pacific Northwest in these conditions. They can, however, be challenging to shoot in. I had my camera in a bag that was decently water resistant, so each time I wanted to take a picture I had quickly pull it out, then quickly stuff it back in before the rain got all over the front element of the lens.

The vibe of this image is very accurate to how it felt.

The gale force winds hadn’t hit yet, but they were already unpleasant. I found myself having to stand with my back to the wind and rain in order to avoid getting pelted in the face. And yet, because this is Oregon after all, I was not the only lunatic out in this weather. Wherever I went, there were other people hopping out of their cars, laughing and pulling up the hoods on their rain jackets, grinning from ear to ear. These are truly my people.

Where was this?

I ended up driving around without a cell signal for quite a while after Heceta Head, and if I’m being honest, I have no idea where some of these images were taken. I stopped at a number of places and took pictures, but did not take meticulous notes for each stop. I’ve tried to piece it together from Google maps and my itinerary, but nothing is matching up. So… enjoy some moody pictures of “somewhere on the Oregon coast.”

It was a lovely “somewhere'.”

As I was driving around, I happened upon this crow. We had an instant kinship. He looked about how I felt.

I … also have no idea where this was.

With still no cell signal in sight, I stumbled upon the parking lot for Hobbit Beach, which was on my itinerary. The rain was coming down hard, and I knew it probably wouldn’t be a pleasant hike, but I hadn’t come all the way out here to sit around being dry and comfortable. Sometimes the best pictures come from the worst conditions.

The trail was a sloppy, muddy mess, but the gnarled trees of the forest were fascinating. Much to my surprise, as I was going down to the beach, a group of about 10 people were on their way back up, wearing hotel-provided ponchos, giving off strong “drowned weasel” vibes, but once again, goddamn if they didn’t look happy.

For all my earlier bluster, I have to admit I gave up after the Hobbit Beach hike. I was soaked, cold, and quickly reaching the point where no amount of blasting the heat in the car was going to solve my problems. Not even the snacks were cheering me up. I hightailed it north along the coast, stopping briefly at Thor’s Well and then continuing on. The motel let me check in early, and while I was grateful for the chance to change into dry, warm clothing, the room was almost as damp as the outdoors. The only heat was in the form of a small electric stove, which I turned on max power and stood in front of for quite a while. The fact that my room was right on the coast with a clear view of the ocean did somewhat make up for dampness.

There’s a certain charm to old motels like this, built in an era where land was cheap and you could afford to spread out rather than merely up.

Whenever I travel, I often find myself needing to eat lunch at that weird hour well past when normal people eat lunch, but far too early to qualify as dinner. I drove back into town to a brewery I’d been to a couple years earlier when I stayed in Yachats, and found I was the only customer. Just me and a very damp husky. (“damp” was the theme of the day) The folks working there were incredibly kind, and I set myself up in the room off to the side so I could listen to the rain on the metal roof while I scarfed down salmon chowder. As I sat there, the sky eventually stopped dumping buckets of water, and I took the opportunity to head back to my room to (once again) take a hairdryer to my shoes so I could reasonably wear them again.

I didn’t have high hopes for photography along the coastline given the forecast, but the rain had tapered to a faint drizzle, and my feet were dry-ish, which at this point in the trip qualified as good enough. As I wandered around in the on/off drizzle, a woman walking her dog stopped me to ask why I was out there if I didn’t have a dog that desperately needed to pee. I lifted up my camera in response. I think she thought I was a bit crazy.

In one direction, everything was still shrouded in mist.

In the other, the sky was beginning to clear.

The first thing I had to see was “my tree.” I photographed it the last time I was in Yachats, and it felt like it was barely holding on then, so I was happy to find it still holding on now. (“My tree” in 2023.)

Then the most miraculous thing happened: the clouds parted and the light started to kick off right as we hit peak sunset time. People began to emerge from their hotel rooms and homes, the coastal walk filling with people stumbling around with their iPhones as though awoken from a rain-induced slumber.

Suddenly, I had that same feeling I had in Bandon of wanting to be everywhere all at once. Much to my dismay, however, I got pulled into a lengthy discussion with an older woman who was very keen to discuss photography with me. The downside of walking around with a “real camera” is that people see it as an invitation to talk photography with you, completely oblivious to the fact that 95% of landscape photographers are deeply introverted. She was sweet, and for as much as I was doing the potty dance in my head because I wanted to be running around shooting, I spent a good chunk of time talking to her because … how can you be mad about someone having passion and interest in something you also love?

You can really see just how heavy those storm clouds still were, with the light trying to push them back.

The light continued to get better and better and better. I was, once again, walking back and forth along the coastal path with all the chill of a small child who’d been given too much candy. The tide pools were reflecting the light beautifully, and each view provided a different composition.

But I know what you’re all really wondering. Did I manage to get through this shoot without getting my shoes wet again, given that the walk is set back from the water and there was no incoming tide to worry about? Nope. Misjudged a puddle and walked around with one dry foot, and one VERY squishy soaked foot.

Photography: 100% success.

Feet: 50% success.

PNW Travelogue - Day Six

I was also making a concerted effort to spend time inland rather than just the coast because otherwise every picture would be some version of “rocks in water” and that gets tedious even for me. I had taken the time the night before to look at waterfall trails in the area, and realized with sadness that the trail I wanted to do had a 10 mile dirt road approach that other users on AllTrails said was technically doable without a 4WD or AWD car, but super sketchy. I was in a Mazda3 rental car, which meant I had to pivot to something with a safer route. I found Elk Creek Falls somewhere deep in the Rogue River - Siskiyou National Forest and figured even if the trail itself wasn’t much, the drive out there might be nice. And the drive did deliver.

I stopped just 30 yards down from a bunch of road work and got out of my car to take pictures, much to the bafflement and amusement of the gentlemen doing repairs to the eletrical lines.

As I got further inland, the morning fog was so thick that it rendered the landscape magical and mysterious, but also meant that stopping to take pictures was dangerous with the lack of visibility, so I mostly kept driving and marveling at the way the rolling hills and farmland would melt away and disappear.

I don’t often risk deviating from my route when I’m driving deep in the forest because it resets my GPS, and then I’m stuck without any navigation to my original destination, but I was curious enough as I was driving along the river that I made the decision to pull over and take a walk. Did I nearly get my car stuck in the “parking area” because the ground was soft and uneven? Yes, but I wouldn’t realize that until after I got back to my car.

It did take quite a while to pick up enough of a shred of cell signal to get navigation again, and in the meantime, I just drove semi-aimlessly down the road trying to remember if it said 5 miles to the next turn or 15 miles. The sky started to clear, and the fog was slowly getting burned off by the sun creeping its way into the valleys.

When I got to the trailhead, I could tell it was going to be a good time. The forest was thick with moss covered trees, dripping green and lush and dark. The road led further into the woods like a beckoning fairytale, and the whole thing felt like a dream.

Don’t you just want to find out what’s around the corner?

The sign at the trailhead indicated it was 0.7 miles to the waterfall, but the path ended abruptly after about half that distance. It looked as though there was a trail that went up to the top of the rocks, but it very quickly turned into a muddy scramble that didn’t at all appear to be a real trail but just a thing some people tried to do. I honestly never did figure it out.

The glorious chaos of PNW forests.

Since that trail was essentially a bust (even the waterfall was underwhelming), and there was another trail there called “Big Tree,” I figured, okay, I’ll bite, show me the big tree. It claimed to be 3 miles. Now, was that round trip, one direction, or not even accurate, I had no idea. I had no cell signal to look for it in AllTrails, and I hadn’t downloaded any other maps in the area. Emboldened by the bushwhacking experience of the day before, I felt confident that whatever the trail threw at me, I could handle it.

What it threw at me was 950ft of elevation gain in a half mile. Just endless switchbacks up a very steep mountain. The forest was beautiful, which made up for the brutal ascent, but I was glad when it evened out a little.

I had been happily hiking through the forest for quite a while, enjoying the solitude and silence… until I happened upon some scat on the trail. Now, I didn’t know if it was bear scat or some other wild animal, but I was suddenly reminded that I was in bear country, and I was being very quiet and bears do not like surprises. Of course I did the “heeeey bear!” call out, and I think that woke up the entire forest. At least 3 different varieties of birds started calling back, and there was movement all around me. Probably a whole bunch of them were enjoying a nice mid-morning nap when I disturbed them.

Sadly, I never did find the “big tree,” but at least the descent wasn’t as bad as the way up.

After getting back to the car, I drove down the beautiful winding roads out of the woods, stopping briefly at a picnic area because they had bathrooms. I do need to shout out the Oregon parks system for having vault toilets at many of their trailheads, even in some pretty remote areas. When you’re away from your hotel for the whole day, those things come in real handy.

I had some time to kill and the weather was deeply uninteresting the closer I got back to the coast. I stopped into Winchester Bay and got ice cream from a local creamery. Hung out on the boardwalk. Eventually, I decided to take a drive out to the Oregon Dunes and do one of the more popular hikes.

“Hike” is maybe not the right word for it. I think “lost in the dunes like you’ve accidentally stepped into a desert” is more accurate. But hey, at least once I got past the forested section in the beginning, the sky cleared up a bit, and I was fortified for the journey with lots of ice cream.

I was told there’s an ocean somewhere out there, past the dunes.

Am I going the right way, or were they lost, too?

I cannot emphasize how much sand I poured out of my shoes. Twice. The pictures do not do it justice at all, but the experience was very cool. Just wear sandals, or something else that’s porous. While I started out on the trail with a few other groups of people, once I was out on the dunes, I was completely and utterly alone. I had visibility for miles in every direction, and not another living soul. I came away with a newfound respect for people who live in the vast deserts of this world. It’s a very different kind of “alone” than being in the woods.

PNW Travelogue - Day Five

How do you top Bandon?

You don’t, of course, but it was still only day five of the trip, and I was excited to see what else the Oregon coast was going to throw at me. The next morning was what I had come to expect from Bandon: overcast, foggy, cold, and windy. I drove a little further south to the lower areas of the beach, where the fog was still thick in the forest.

Pine trees in fog is one of my favorite things on this earth.

I tried to go to two beaches that looked very cool on Google maps, but what Google didn’t tell me is that they’re on private land and you can’t actually get to them, no matter how much it insists you should make a left onto someone’s driveway that very explicitly says “no public beach access” because I’m clearly not the first person sent down this way. I turned around and went back up the dirt road and debated if I should at least pop into the other beach area for which I’d passed a sign.

Seven Devils State Recreation Site wasn’t much, but I did get to see a massive blue heron who was just as surprised to see me as I was him. Unfortunately, he flew off before I could get a shot of him.

I work with a lot of introverts, and I swear half of them would live in a place this remote.

Cape Arago looked promising but was somewhat underwhelming in person. No, I take that back. I tend to say this about places sometimes when the truth is that they were photographically uninteresting, but that’s not the same as saying they’re not worth visiting. I did some short hikes there, saw a bunch of very chatty sea lions, and drove through some absolutely beautiful old growth forest. You should go, it’s stunning.

After Cape Arago, I was excited to visit Shore Acres. A photographer from the PNW that I follow on YouTube had raved about it, and his video made it look amazing. (Watch the video here!) He had the advantage of moody skies and fog, where I was dealing with the dreaded blue once again. (I’m telling you, the endless moaning about weather makes us insufferable.) Once I got to exploring though, I started to understand what he was on about. It may not rise to the level of Sisters Rock and Secret Beach for me, I was glad I decided to go.

I ended up taking a short hike along the coast, and it truly did not disappoint. For how beautiful of a day it was, and how many cars I saw in the parking lot, I was surprised to have the entire trail to myself.

Just a couple trees…

… hanging on for dear life.

There was another park I wanted to visit nearby, but the signposting for it was nonexistent, there was no parking lot, and I drove past it not once, not twice, but three times, trying to work out where it was and where I could safely park. I finally managed to work it out, and wandered into Yoakam Point State Park.

No AllTrails. No cell signal. No blazed trails.

Pretty soon, I found myself at the end of the only trail that looked like it was well worn, with only some “trails” following the edge of the coast that looked more like bushwhacking-lite. I was location sharing with my friend back on the east coast, so I figured at least the authorities would have a rough idea of where I died if it all went wrong. So off I went into the shrubs, weaving my way through the forest.

There was technically a path leading down to the beach, but it was steep and I was not feeling confident.

I was definitely bushwhacking in places, and at one point, really wondered if I would be able to find my way back out of the woods. I was operating more or less on instinct, and thankfully, it led me to a path that took me back to the main path, and I got back to my car without incident. No location services or authorities needed.

My sunset location was Cape Blanco because I felt like I had unfinished business there after my last, rather unsuccessful trip in super high winds. I was far too early for sunset, but elected to make the best of the long golden hour and took a walk along the coast.

Even just the approach to Cape Blanco was pretty amazing.

The lighthouse at Cape Blanco isn’t terribly high, and it’s set back from the coast quite a bit. Having been there in high winds, I can see why. As the evening progressed and I was coming back from my walk along the coast, I caught this glorious golden light just washing the landscape.

Everything feels small in this landscape.

I waited around to see if the light would kick off, but I knew the conditions weren’t in my favor. Cape Blanco is clearly a sunset spot for folks in the area, as I saw a lot of other cars pull into the lot some 20-30 minutes before sunset. Not to walk around, but just to sit and watch the light. That’s something that I would see everywhere along the coast, and even in Seattle. The light is almost sacred, and stopping whatever you’re doing to watch the sunset is a ritual.

The final shot before I got back in the car and headed to the hotel for the evening.

PNW Travelogue - Day Four

Secret Beach, Sisters Rock, and now I was heading up to Bandon, a place I had visited twice before but where good weather always eluded me. On my first visit, I got clear blue skies and high winds, and on the second trip, I ended up being chased off the beach by driving rain and a rapidly rising tide. I really really hoped that the third visit would in fact be a bit more charming.

On my drive up, I stopped at Arizona Beach, where I found a pristine, incredibly still tide pool that acted as a giant mirror. Everything looks so calm, so unhurried. Like so many mirrors, it ended up being nothing more than an illusion as I got caught out by the incoming tide within the first 20 minutes of the day. Wet shoes once again!

In fact, it was right after taking this picture that a rogue wave came over the embankment and filled the tide pool with fresh new water. It also filled my shoes with fresh new water.

I had other socks and sneakers with me, but that put me at risk of also getting those wet and then I’d really be in a pickle, so I resolved to just live with squishy wet feet for the day. I rolled down the windows in the car and blasted the heat onto my shoes in hopes of drying them out slightly. I made a few stops along the coast on my drive north, met a Very Brave Seagull, saw what may or may not have been whales far off the coast, and quietly grumbled about my cold, wet feet.

Port Orford Heads State Park was the next place on my itinerary and it was a lovely walk in the woods. For some reason, it seemed to be quite popular with retirees, as every person I passed was having a nice mid-morning amble with their dog. Aside from a couple guys who looked like they were stoned out of their gourds, I was the only person under 65 in the whole park.

The same water from roughly the same vantage point, but as it got shallower, you could see its green hue.

After that, I tried to go to the Cape Blanco lighthouse, but the winds were so strong that even the gift shop had given up and was closed by the time I got there. I walked around a little but it was impossibly cold and exposed to the elements, and I still had a lot of daylight to use up before checking into my hotel in Bandon. I looked at what else I had earmarked in the area and decided to do a long but relatively flat hike in Floras Lake State Natural Area. Most of the hike was uneventful, but then it took a turn into some beautiful old growth forest, and I got to witness the magic of light filtering through the tall pine canopy once again.

No, I will in fact never tire of the way light streams through the forest.

Happy with the walk in Floras, I decided to just drive all the way up to Bandon, maybe change into socks that weren’t soaking wet and see if I could dry off my hiking shoes with a hairdryer in the bathtub like I’d already done twice before.

As I alluded to at the beginning, I have history with Bandon. On my first trip in 2020, my hotel was in Cannon Beach but I was swayed by pictures I’d seen from Bandon, so I drove FIVE HOURS IN EACH DIRECTION just to spend a couple hours there. It was clear blue skies and winds coming in from the ocean that swept sand into your face every 15 seconds. I didn’t get many good pictures, but I did fall in love with the place. On my second trip in 2022, my hotel was in Yachats, which isn’t nearly as bad but still not exactly close at 2 hours in each direction. It was raining pretty insistently when I got there, but I was equally determined and walked the length of the beach. I barely made it to the stairs that take you back up the cliff before the incoming tide got me, and I found myself having to leave right as the clouds were lifting. I probably missed out on a great sunset.

I hoped that this time would be different… but like, different in a good way.

It did not start out promising. Bandon kept coy for a long time before it decided to put on a show.

Does anyone else see a bunny rabbit, the kind you get around Easter made of chocolate? Only me? Cool cool.

This has such a strong wild west vibe about it.

Even though the light wasn’t anything spectacular, the beach was full of people walking around, some with their dogs, and quite a few photographers. There are always photographers in Bandon. Well, except perhaps that one time when it was raining something fierce while the tide was coming in. Pretty sure I didn’t see anyone else that day.

My feet were dry for the first time all day, so I was in a fantastic mood, and since the tide was receding, I didn’t have to worry nearly as much about getting them wet again.

This is where things started to get interesting. As I got to the magician’s hat, I noticed the silver mannequin. Then I noticed the disco ball, and the photographer set up behind both of them, clearly doing some kind of professional conceptual shoot. The problem for him, of course, was that he’s on a public beach, with every member of The Public not only walking through his shot, generally oblivious, but also stopping dead center to take a picture on their iPhone. He seemed resigned to his fate.

However, I was curious. I wanted to understand what he was doing, so I walked around back to see how it looked from his perspective. I managed to fire off that one single shot before he noticed me and got up from where he was crouched, and started milling around the scene. I understood in that moment that he was trying to prevent me from stealing his concept, while also acknowledging that he couldn’t just tell me to sod off because we were in a public place.

Sci-fi novel cover art featuring the magician’s hat.

Same rock, not five minutes earlier, from a different angle where it looks more like a Muppet.

I moved on, but I did take some amount of pleasure in walking across his field of view a few times on purpose.

Just as the two pictures above show, the light was wildly different depending on which way you faced on the beach, ranging from cool, almost icy blues, to the vibrant yellow of the slowly setting sun. In neither case have I made any significant changes to the temperature of the images.

It was at about this point that I started to have real hope for the sunset. It was just one cloud, but it was perfectly positioned to catch the light. I watched one photographer get so focused on the light that a rogue wave caught him all the way up to his knees, sea water pouring into his boots. His shoulders slumped as he realized there was no saving the situation. He leaned against a rock, took off each boot and spilled the remaining water back into the ocean. I felt for him. (Note: the pros wear sealed neoprene socks instead!)

As the light started to get good, I became a kid in a candy store, running around from one place to the next, seeing where the compositions might be interesting. The rocks, the reflections in the receding water, the placement of the single cloud.

Listen, if you’re laughing, I don’t think you understand just how stupidly excited landscape photographers get about clouds and light. We are always at the mercy of the weather, and it is incredibly fickle. The forecast said partly sunny and 60F? Here, have a sudden downpour and some winds that push the temps down to 35F instead. It’s the single biggest factor in landscape photography, and it’s often utterly unpredictable. We talk about it. A lot. We moan endlessly about clear blue skies. We scowl when a bunch of clouds hunker down around the horizon and kill the sunrise or sunset. Oh, but when the light is good…

I am not kidding when I say I was walking all over the beach hunting for compositions. I think I racked up 12k steps just that night.

As I was handling the light kicking off with exactly zero chill, back and forth, back and forth, I happened upon a group on horseback. OMFG are you kidding me?? I squee’d on the inside. On the one hand, I didn’t want to be rude… on the other, they were so perfectly positioned! I snapped a few pictures and moved on, but the timing and location were a dream. I did of course photoshop out some of the tracks because they were distracting, but I realized I had to leave some of them in the frame or it would look like the horses had just teleported onto the beach.

The whole night was amazing. A highlight of the entire trip, and redemption for me and Bandon.

Goodnight!

PNW Travelogue - Day Three

Still smiling from the night before at Secret Beach, I got out of the hotel earlier than usual to head inland to a small redwood forest nearby. I knew it wouldn’t be as impressive as what I saw a couple days earlier in northern California, but any time spent in nature is always worthwhile. As I drove along the river to get there, everything was sleepy and misty and nestled deep in shadow.

When I got to the trailhead, there was already a car parked, and I did indeed see the gentleman to whom it belonged having himself a morning trail run, likely before starting work. The forest was light enough that you could tell the sun had risen, but dark enough in places that you could tell no sunlight had reached it yet. At first, I was disappointed that there was no direct light, thinking about the amazing experience I had on the Simpon-Reed trail, but there was something truly magical about the serenity of the forest this early in the morning, still waking up.

An experimental shot because the moss covered skeleton of a tree was stunning in person, but hard to capture amidst the chaos of the forest.

After my little jaunt in the woods, I decided to go back up the coast to Arch Rock, which I missed the day before because I opted to stay at Secret Beach. It was the right call to give it a miss the night before, but the view was breathtaking and I was glad I got to see it. I think there are some trails that might lead down to the beach, but this was clearly high tide, and going down there would not have been safe.

I entirely missed Natural Bridge because it’s another one that isn’t clearly marked (like Secret Beach), so there are a few places on that part of the Samuel H. Boardman Corridor that I need to come back to on another trip.

I popped into Ariya’s Beach, Cape Sebastian, and Kissing Rock on my way to Otter Point State Recreational Site. All of them were worth visiting, but I didn’t come away with any images that weren’t once again just “rocks in water.” Otter Point was stunning, but sadly, almost impossible to photograph in the conditions I had to work with. The intense sun high overhead, no cloud cover, rough seas and so much glare off the water… every picture I took there did no justice to how beautiful the landscape was.

One of the things that became clear to me on this trip was the difference between something that is beautiful in person and something that makes for a good photograph. There were so many things I saw that were stunning… light hitting the trees in the morning, an old farmhouse on a hill overlooking the valley, a field of cattle with mountains in the distance… but the foreground was a mess, or the view that was so obvious to the human eye would have been impossible to discern with a camera because of all the branches in the way, or there would simply be no way to capture the entire context in a way that would convey its beauty.

This is the struggle of photography. It’s the difference between a snapshot that might mean something to you because you were there, and an image that will transport the viewer because they can feel what it was like to be there with you. It’s the difference between taking a picture of something versus taking a picture about something.

I’m not saying I always get it right. I definitely don’t, but I’m learning and trying.

People for scale. Much to my dismay, they refused to stay there long enough for me to get closer and compose some different frames. Rude.

Sisters Rock State Park would become one of my favorite places on the whole of the Oregon coast, even if I didn’t immediately realize it.

After my failed attempt at capturing Otter Point, I still had some time to kill before golden hour and sunset, and even in the harsh light, I knew I wanted to come back to Sisters Rock. I decided to drive a little further up the coast and do a short hike in Humbug Mountain State Park. As is so often the case, you think you’ve got it all perfectly timed only to find yourself rushing back to the car and sending some colorful words into the universe, hoping you’re not going to miss your window.

I am pleased to report that I did not miss my window.

I almost never shoot directly into the sun, but all that lens flare was delicious.

I walked up to the edge where those people had been standing before, and took what would become my most surreal image of the trip. A landscape that looks like it came from another planet.

Straight out of Interstellar, with a spaceship taking off just out of view on the right.

The one place I hadn’t explored yet was down by the shore, on the volcanic rock. I was really missing those few extra millimeters on the wide end, trying to get the whole landscape into the shot. The rock on the right was vibrant red and almost martian in the sunlight, with stark contrast between where the sun was hitting and where it wasn’t. Evening cool blue waters that turned orange-red when the last of the light hit the waves as they crashed into shore.

Truly, this place is magical. It’s up there with parts of Scotland and Iceland for locations that just feel different. There was something otherworldly about the landscape that inspired reverence, awe, and joy. Sisters Rock, along with Secret Beach and Ecola State Park, will be one of those places I go back to, over and over again.

PNW Travelogue - Day Two

I went to bed hoping for something other than a thick blanket of fog, and I have to say, when I woke up I wasn’t sure if I was going to get it. My hotel was on the water, down by the fishing vessels, and everything was shrouded in mist when I looked out the window. I dawdled, drank coffee, and settled on an itinerary for the day, beginning with a repeat trip to Chetco Point. I was still hopeful the morning might provide some redemption.

As I drove out there, I felt like I might just get it.

These vibrant colors bear no resemblance to the foreboding landscape of the day before.

The light was amazing in the direction of the sunrise, but it was also incredibly bright, creating glare on the water, and making photography a challenge. There was an older gentleman out there with me, taking pictures on his phone, and we talked about how nice this morning was compared to he pea soup we had the day before. However, my joy at getting light and clouds quickly began to fade as the sun started to burn off the clouds, and the forecast told me I was in for a day of clear blue skies and temps into the 70s. On the Oregon coast! In October!

I knew I had limited time before the sun rendered everything full of contrast and impossible highlights. I made a quick stop at Harris Beach State Park, which was lovely but largely fell into the “rocks in water” category of places that are interesting in person but underwhelming in pictures.

I hurried on to Lone Ranch Beach, hoping to get in a short hike or two before the heat set in. You see, I had packed for “dreary fall Oregon weather” and was completely unprepared for the “lovely summer Oregon weather” facing me. I had layers and long sleeves and hats and scarves, but what I didn’t have was shorts or tank tops.

The last of the clouds.

Additionally, the AllTrails map was confused, and I ended up taking many wrong paths up some very steep hills, scrambling over rocks while trying to avoid the incoming tide, and wondering what I did wrong in a previous lifetime for the temperature to be closing in on 65F well before noon. I finally made it to the top of the ridge, where sun sent streams of light and shadow down towards the water, and I found a tiny bit of cloud!

Now, if you’re a photographer, you get it. If you’re a normal person, you’re probably wondering why I’m talking about clouds so much (Warning: it will get worse in future blog posts!). Without any interest in the sky, it’s just dull and flat, which makes all the landscape below it feel unbalanced. Your eye ends up stuck in one part of the image, rather than moving around the way it should. Yes, there are ways of still making the photograph feel dynamic through creative framing and other stylistic choices, but clouds are a natural element that just make everything so much easier and prettier.

I had no cell signal in this part of the road, so my plans about where to go next were based entirely on seeing a sign along the road and navigating on instinct. I was looking for a particular trail, drove way too far (still no cell signal!), turned around and drove back, STILL couldn’t find it, and decided that Thomas Creek Bridge seemed like it might be a good for a view or two.

It wasn’t, but it did have some amazing dark woods, and that’s just as good.

What a difference a bit of light makes. These pictures were taken less than a mile apart, in the same patch of forest.

Eventually I caught a glimmer of cell signal and mapped my way to Whaleshead Beach. I had managed to get through the bulk of the day by now, and the sun was no longer scorching everything in sight. The stillness of the tide pools made for some interesting compositions, and this nice couple decided to stand in exactly the right place for me to show the scale of the rocks.

However, the bucket list destination of this trip was always Secret Beach.

I knew I was still most likely looking at blue skies for sunset, but the weather wasn’t going to be any more cooperative the following night, so I made my way to the trailhead and snagged the last parking spot that wouldn’t have risked damage to my rental car.

Listen, I know people will turn up their noses at certain destinations because everyone knows about them and they’ve been photographed to death. I get it. But sometimes… sometimes those places are well known for a damn good reason.

That’s not photoshop or filters, that’s sunlight and water and pure luck.

There were a lot of people on the beach, and the tide was quite high, cutting off the other half. If you peeked between two barnacle-covered rocks, you could make out some very neat things on the other side, but the options were to squeeze between those rocks, or scramble up some other very steep rocks to the side. I opted for the squeeze, and when I tell you that I baaaarely fit without tearing my clothing, I am not exaggerating. However, the other side? Worth it.

Yes, those are people for scale.

Anyone that knows me at all knows I am not a patient person. There’s a reason I don’t shoot with a tripod. I’m rarely in one place for longer than a minute, and that’s only if it’s really interesting. I have to say though, this was one of those rare times when I really wished I had one handy. The sun was hitting the waves and lighting them up as they rolled into shore. I was balanced precariously on barnacle-covered rocks, having to watch for rogue waves that would soak my shoes while also watching for the incoming waves and minding the water patterns in the foreground. While handholding the shot. I must have taken at least a dozen shots, but I think this one shows both the light and the dynamic movement of the water.

These two images were taken not that far apart, but facing in different directions.

By this point, I had decided to stick around for sunset, even though that would mean staying in the same place for over an hour, requiring a truly remarkable feat of patience. I knew I wasn’t going to find a better location, nor was the sky going to magically sprout clouds if I drove 20 minutes in another direction. Most of the other people were starting to pack up their families and scramble back up the trail to their cars, leaving only a handful of other photographers on the beach.

A few of them came up to me and we talked briefly about where we’d been and where we were heading, but like so many photographers, I suspect we were all introverts, and settled quickly back into a comfortable silence, even as we stood within 10 feet of each other. They all had tripods. Just saying.

Once the sun got close to the horizon, it started to sink pretty quickly, creating pockets of deep blue shadow.

I left Secret Beach feeling as though I got the experience I’d been after, even if the conditions weren’t perfect. One of the photographers I talked to said they’d been there the night before, during the intense pea soup fog, and man, that would have been cool! It won’t be my last visit to this place, that’s for certain.

PNW Travelogue - Day One

I’m no stranger to the Pacific Northwest.

Portland for work in 2016. Monterrey in 2018. Squamish, BC in 2019. Cannon Beach in 2020. Olympic National Park in 2021. Yachats in 2022.

However, each time, I was staying in a single place and therefore limited to how far I could go without spending my entire day driving (though I did that, too!). This time, I wanted to see the whole thing. The whole Oregon coast, from the border of California all the way up to Washington state. Now obviously, this is impossible even if you have 2 weeks because not only is there so much to see, but so much is dictated by the weather. I was going in late October, which is always a gamble. Will it be sunny blue skies, rendering the entire middle of the day useless for photography, or will it be gale force winds and driving rain? Sometimes I got both in one day!

I got into Portland late in the evening on Friday, drove to my friend’s house nearby, and crashed for the night. Got out on the road around 10am, full of coffee and good food, and drove the 6 hours down from Portland to California. I did my fair share of gawking as I got further down highway 5 and then onto the much smaller Rt 199 through what was turning into redwood country. Winding roads kept me from stopping along the way, but also the knowledge that the sun was drifting further down in the sky, and forests deep in the valleys get dark, fast.

The Jedidiah Smith Redwoods State Park was along the way, and the images on AllTrails (my hiking bestie) were spectacular. The Simpson-Reed trail is short, right off the road I was on anyway, and perfect to stretch my legs after a long flight the day before and the drive from Portland.

Walking among the redwoods was everything everyone promised and more. Even when I saw pictures of people standing next to the trees, it didn’t truly begin to convey the scale. And the light! My god the light was something else, the way it streamed through the canopy high above, hitting the forest floor like a beacon.

After the redwoods, I pushed towards the coast once again, stopping off in a few small places before getting to Brookings, Oregon, which would be my home for the next 3 days.

Pelican State Beach - this fog would turn out to be settled in for the evening, shrouding the entire coastline.

I finally checked into my hotel, dropped off my stuff, and headed out to get something to eat before going to Chetco Point Park. My weather app claimed it was “partly sunny,” and I would like to know exactly where the sunny part was, because we were clearly in the not-sunny part. (I had this same experience in Iceland.)

When you’re traveling with limited time, you try to make the best of whatever conditions you’re given, which in this case was pea soup level fog and quickly dwindling light. Moody but difficult to work with.

Driftwood like the bones outside of a dragon’s lair.

The pathway looks all mysterious, but it actually leads to a waste treatment center.

Endless milky skies like there isn’t a hotel right across the way.

It was cold and damp, and the only other person crazy enough to be out there with me was a sullen skateboarding teenager that smelled strongly of weed. After about 30 minutes, I gave up, too, and headed back to the hotel with hopes that the morning would provide some good light.

room to breathe

Siglufjörður, Iceland

Sligachan, Scotland

Helsinki, Finland

Stokksnes, Iceland

Mount Vernon, Virginia, USA

streetside in stockholm

We came to Stockholm because my husband was speaking at a conference. He did all the work, I did all the pleasant walking around taking pictures. I may have gotten the better end of the deal.

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Stockholm skyline as seen from across the water

On the first day, we mostly walked around the rest of the city, leaving the old town (Gamla Stan) for the next morning. Stockholm is a huge city, as I soon figured out, and there’s a blend of architectural styles that reflect it's long history as a regional power.

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One of the best ways to orient yourself in this city is to look for church spires. Each one is unique, and will tell you where in the city you are.

On the second day, we finally hit Gamla Stan proper, with all its (imperial) yellow buildings. The weather was just right for walking, though the clear skies meant that photography was more challenging.

After thoroughly treading what felt like every square, cobblestone inch of Gamla Stan, I ventured across the water to the part of Stockholm that has hills.

Sometimes the distortion of wide angle lenses is fun to play around with.

spring

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streetside in moscow

Going from the warmth and light of Rome, to the dismal cold of Moscow was actually more of a relief than you’d think. Having grown up in New England, I miss having real winters, with snow and bleak days. (although I do wish there had been some clearer skies for the sake of photography)

Our first night there, we went out for a fantastic meal at one of Moscow’s best restaurants, and so it was with a still somewhat full stomach that I woke up the next morning to explore the city. I was met by a graduate student who was voluntold to show me around, but if he minded, he did a great job of hiding it. We walked around for several hours, with him explaining each cultural and historical landmark along the way.

Sadly, you’re not allowed to take pictures inside orthodox churches. You’ll have to take my word for it that it was beautiful.

The following day, we revisited some of the same spots, but this time with my husband his friend Nina, who quickly became my friend as well. We took the obligatory pass through Red Square, but also veered off onto many side streets, and into neighborhoods I could probably never find again.

In the span of less than an hour, the weather went from what you see on the left, to completely overcast again.

In between these two pictures, we ate dinner. It was a great meal, but not really a photographic event.

Of course, no trip to Moscow in December would be complete without checking out the New Year’s lights at Red Square. We took the subway back, and mingled with what may have been the entire population of Moscow among the beautiful lights.

winter

streetside in rome

Day One:

It turns out that all of Rome turns out on Sundays to walk around the city. So in addition to all the traffic from tourists, you suddenly had what felt like half of Rome walking around the old city. For someone who doesn’t like crowds and does like photography, it was not the best introduction to the city. (it got better on day two)

Trevi Fountain

So. Many. People.

Altar of the Fatherland

Everywhere was crowded.

Christmas Tree

And not just with pedestrians. Look at the amount of car traffic on a Sunday evening!

Head on

Let’s be honest, the scooter would win.

Vatican City

The entrance is impressive.

Day Two:

On the second day, I was pleased to see that Rome wasn’t as packed everyday as it had been the evening before, and it was possible to see the sights without the entire free world experiencing it with you. We started out walking to the mall, and then taking a shortcut through a building that yielded this amazing gem. I had to lean out of the scaffolding to shoot upwards, directly into the light. Thank goodness for the miracles of post-processing!

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Just your usual atrium. (click to see it larger)

Vatican

The miracle of warm weather climates is that even in December, the trees still had some leaves.

Castel Sant'Angelo

This tiny glimpse of golden hour is all I got.

Piazza Navona

Day Three:

This was all about the Roman ruins, walking first to the Roman Forum, a stop into the Musei Capitolini, then further out along the old Hippodrome, and finally to the Coliseum.

This car parked at the stairs is one of my favorite things.

Day Four:

After three straight days of 25k+ steps, we needed a day where we didn’t do so much walking. Villa Borghese was just up the street from us, so into the park we wandered on our first somewhat chilly day in Rome.

Tempio di Esculapio

vatican museum

We thought we weren’t going to make it.

Naively, we bought tickets to the museum based on the amount of time we expected to spend in St Peter’s, neglecting to remember that there are 551 steps to climb to get to the top. It’s one of the few places to get a view of all of Rome, so of course we were going to do it. Even if we only had 35 minutes until our entry time to the Vatican Museum.

After we got to the top, then rushed back down, we found out that the entrance to the museum is NOWHERE near the basilica. In fact, it’s nearly a mile away! We hoofed it, walking as fast as we could, and made it to the entrance 10 minutes late. As it turns out, they operate on Italian time, so I suspect we would have been fine even if we’d shown up an hour late.

Now, I grew up in CT, not far from New York City. Going to “The Met” was not an unusual weekend activity when I was a kid, so I’m not easily impressed. But, well, this is the Vatican. “More is the new more,” was their motto for, like, 400 years, and it shows.

Courtyard

There’s a seagull who likely thinks of himself as King sitting on top of the corn/pine cone thingie.

Fancy Stairway

Also a bit unnerving when you consider all those eyes staring at you.

Rotunda

Possibly a sacrificial bowl; unclear what sorts of nefarious things happen here.

Gallery

Just another underwhelming hall on the way to the Sistine Chapel.

Hall of Maps

… and gilded ceilings.

But there’s one thing that everyone who comes to the Vatican Museum really comes to see: the Sistine Chapel. Don’t get me wrong, this entire place is a literal embarrassment of riches. It’s almost hard to appreciate some of the amazing artwork because every room is jam packed. (Mostly I mean the art, but also tourists… that’s Rome for you.) The only way to get there is to walk through the ENTIRE museum; the shortcuts are a lie. A beautiful, heavily gilded, marble and jewel-encrusted lie, but definitely not an actual shortcut. Once you get there, though…

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My one, illicit photograph (click to view larger)

Of course you’re not allowed to take pictures. I get it. Flash would destroy what has been so painstakingly restored, and if that’s half the reason people come, then you want to keep it a bit more under wraps. It is the sole job of several men to stand around and yell at people who missed all the signs telling them not to take pictures. One older gentleman had a booming voice that echoed through the entire chapel, “NO FOTO!” Strangely, it’s one of the things I’ll remember most about the trip.

The chapel was crowded, with everyone doing their level best to speak in hushed tones, discussing all the brilliant detail. It’s a challenge to pick out the meaning of some of the images because all the characters are wearing the garb of the time, so you have to look for clues in other ways. And to think this was Michelangelo’s first professional gig as a painter!

I suppose it makes sense to put the Sistine Chapel at the very end. Nothing else looks quite as impressive after you’ve seen it. I’m fairly certain I saw things after we left the chapel, but I don’t have a single image to prove that. Except the spiral staircase leading out of the museum, which was fabulous and seems like a great way to end this post.

It starts out smooth and then the stairs become more pronounced as you go down.