Annette Lake and the curse of "good weather"

A clear sunny day is ideal for most people, but photographers aren’t most people.

After two hikes in moody, rainy, changeable weather, I’d gotten a bit spoiled, you see. I thought every weekend would be like that, with fog enveloping trees and conditions that shifted every minute, but even the PNW experiences the steady weather of summer. Which is how I found myself in a race against the sun going up the mountain to Annette Lake.

In the early parts of the hike, the sun hadn’t burned through all the morning clouds yet, and hadn’t reached the deeper portions of the trail. The cascade of water running down the rocks at the beginning of the trail still looked lush and green from the morning dew.

What a difference a couple hours makes! The sun had almost completely burned off all the clouds in the time it took me to get another half mile to the lake, eat lunch, wander around, and come back along the ridge.

There was maybe an hour between these two shots.

Annette Lake itself was very pretty, with crystal clear waters and plenty of logs around the edge for people to sit on and have lunch. There were dogs splashing in the lake, and although the path around the lake got dodgy in places, I could see that some folks had made it to the other side. You can see them in this picture… if you zoom in to at least 200%. Which should give you a sense of the scale of the surroundings.

I didn’t get too many pictures of the lake or the forest on this day. The sun was harsh and bright, and while the experience of sitting at the lake & eating a sandwich with the light on my face was glorious, it did not make for great photography. And this is how it goes sometimes.

Seattle, lately

The last few weeks around Seattle.

Selfie, photographer style

Spot the leopard seal.

Mountain’s out!

EDM festival in Gas Works Park

The Space Needle is always watching…

Cross Country Road Trip: The Midwest

I know the midwest has roughly the same reputation for landscape photography as the mid-Atlantic, but there are some real gems you can find out there. I had honestly intended to do more hiking on the first day, but I had a dinner date with a friend who lived in Cleveland, and that meant having to press on. I stopped at Cuyahoga Valley State Park to see Brandywine falls, and they were nice, but there were no decent compositions, and the weather was bland. If I’d had more time, I might’ve taken the longer trail down to the base of the falls, but (as I found out throughout this trip) everything took longer than I thought it would. No regrets though, dinner was amazing, and I got to hang out with a friend I’d known online for nearly 7 years. After dinner, I rallied some remaining energy and went to a small park on the shore of Lake Eerie.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve stood at the edge of a great lake, but it had been long enough that I’d forgotten just how much like the ocean they really are. The waves, the endless water all the way to the horizon, with only the smell of freshwater to remind you that you’re not standing on a coastline.

Day two saw me heading into Illinois and Starved Rock State Park. I took the main trail around the canyons, but it was well packed with kids on summer break, and the best canyon on the loop (French Canyon) was closed. I left the main trail area and found myself loving the peace and quiet of the smaller canyons, like St Louis and Illinois. From the surrounding landscape, you’d never guess any of this was here. I came across a lot of places like that in the midwest. Rolling hills, farmland, nothing remotely out of the ordinary… unless you knew where to look.

You can’t tell me this isn’t a faerie grotto.

On day three, I went across the street (no really) to Matthiessen State Park to walk the Dells Canyon and Bluff trail. It was still fairly early in the morning, but the temperature was already climbing into the 80s. The highlight was definitely the wide, long canyons with this impressive waterfall at one end, and the much smaller but just as charming one at the other end. I got lost several times because there were so many trails weaving their way in and out of the canyons, and without AllTrails, I wouldn’t have had any inkling of which way to go. I crossed the water on multiple occasions, walked up and down many sets of stairs, and had a very pleasant morning.

I took a quick detour to Anderson Japanese Gardens, but it was high noon by the time I got there, and the heat was relentless. The waterfall was nice, but Japanese gardens really shine in the fall, when all the leaves turn the pond reflections into rainbows. I did however have a fantastic lunch at the cafe in the gardens, and bought some Japanese snacks for the road.

Adding on to an already packed day, I squeezed in one more walk to Willow River State Park in Wisconsin to see the falls, and they did not disappoint. Dozens of families were swimming in the water, and the kids were having an absolute blast. The people in this shot really give you an idea of just how big this place was, and how cool it is that it’s a safe place to swim.

On day four, I headed into Minnesota to see Minneopa Falls, but I ran into some navigation issues. I had rather hastily set my GPS when I set out, and when I was almost there, I panicked that I hadn’t set it to the trailhead correctly. I kept seeing signs for the park with arrows pointing in a different direction. While driving, I pulled up what I thought was the right trail and reset my navigation. Paid the entrance fee at the little station, parked up, and began walking through the most lush green forest, and then ended up in open marshy fields.

The problem, however, was that I knew the trail to the falls was very short, and I had already walked further than the whole trail. With noo falls in sight, I began to suspect that I’d had it set right all along, and then picked the wrong trail in my panic. Yep. That’s exactly what happened.

I backtracked, got back into my car, set my navigation to the trailhead for the falls, and found a massive parking lot with a very obvious sign pointing to the falls. This and other ways I make my own life more difficult.

The trail down to the lower falls was closed due to it having been washed out the month prior, which was a real shame, but the view of the upper falls was still worth the drive.

I had intended to visit Jeffers Petroglyphs as well, but with the extra time spent lost in Minneopa, I was running behind, and the more I looked into it, the more it seemed like they might not be all that impressive. Instead, I drove on to Blue Mounds State Park, which was another one of those places that looked like nothing even as I was practically on top of it.

That statement held true even as I was on the trail. Most of it wasn’t much of anything, and the only real highlight was the red cliff. Having said that, the cliffs were striking and I was giddy with the use of my wide angle lens to capture the entirety of them. I walked all the way around the edge of them from one side to the other, and the views were stunning in every direction. The sky was even cooperating, adding to the drama of the landscape.

The rest of the landscape, however, looked like this. Sometimes you get lucky and get to see bison.

From here, I drove on into South Dakota to Sioux Falls, but that’s a story for another blog.

Heather Lake (kind of)

Heather Lake is an incredibly popular trail, and if you look online, it’s easy to see why. Beautiful lake surrounded by mountains, green pines, blue water… an absolute dream. That’s the trail I was on, but I knew that wasn’t going to be my experience. The fog was incredibly thick, and it had been raining for much of the night, so everything was damp and misty and full of atmosphere. Atmosphere. Not views.

God but the rain made everything incredibly green and lush.

The forest was so full of fog that it just faded into milky nothingness, making my surroundings beautiful but a little eerie. Sometimes it was too quiet for comfort.

No artificial spotlight here, just a section of the forest where it was a little lighter, making the woods in the distance look downright sinister.

The higher I got, the more intense the fog became. The trail was highly technical for someone who was used to hiking on the east coast, and I spent long stretches of the climb trying to work out how to get myself up the boulders and tree roots without slipping (because everything was wet) or walking through 4” of mud (because everything was wet). This was not one of those aesthetic hikes you see on Instagram.

Then I got to the lake. “The lake.” There was water and a shore and the vague outlines of trees that indicated you hadn’t completely crossed over into another realm, but there was no lake. I mean, not really. Certainly no mountains. No reflections of mountains. Just endless white obscuring everything more than 30 feet out.

The trail goes all the way around the lake, so I was able to confirm that, from every possible angle, there was zero visibility.

Okay, I’ll admit, some of these shots do indeed look like you might be crossing over into another realm. At this point, I probably wouldn’t mind.

Resisting the urge to make a lady of the lake reference here.

This ended up being one of my favorite shots of the day. The tree and the boulder look like ancient forest spirits.

This really was just part of the trail leading around the lake, but with the dark wood and heavy fog, even I have to admit it looks like something out of a supernatural horror movie.

The trail was every bit as slippery and challenging and muddy on the way down as it was on the way up. In some cases, because it’s easier to see up and pick out a path that makes sense than it is to discern the same looking down, I ended up getting myself into quite a pickle. Thankfully, because it’s an incredibly popular hike, there were lots of people going up who lent me a literal hand to get me unstuck. One nice young man asked if you could see the lake, and I felt awful telling him that, no, you couldn’t see much of anything at all.

As a photographer, I loved the conditions. They made for so many interesting compositions beyond just the standard lake-mountains-reflection that you generally get at places like this. And don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely going to return to this hike to get those standard shots, too, but I might’ve been one of the very few people that day who wasn’t the least bit disappointed by the weather.

Franklin Falls (and Denny Creek)

I meant to take it easy. I meant to hike the short hike to Franklin Falls because I went running the day before and my legs were a bit leaden, and then go home. But that’s not what I did. Instead, I thought to myself, “Weeeeell, I’m already here, so I may as well do the other trail that starts here and see both waterfalls!”

The weather was changeable and fast moving. We were getting rain off and on the whole time, both trails, and I found myself trying to assess if I actually needed a rain jacket at least a dozen times. One moment, the trees were covered in fog, the next moment, you’d see a crack of sunlight. Usually right as it started raining, so it was a constant game of wiping off the lens.

These are rental cabins from what I can tell, dotted throughout the forest near the trailhead. Some behind locked gates, so I imagine when you rent them, you get notified about how to unlock them. I do not recall seeing power lines, just firewood and beautiful surroundings.

If I was the type of photographer to walk around with a tripod, I would have been able to blend the shot above with another where they were posing for the camera in a much more aesthetically pleasing way… but I’m not that type of photographer and likely never will be.

I finished the Franklin Falls trail and it was only 10am. I’d driven over an hour to get here. It just seemed like such a waste to already be here and not check out the other trail that led from the parking lot to Keekwulee Falls. In truth, the trail I took also went on further to a lake, but that would have added another 1600 ft of elevation gain on top of the 1600 I was already doing that I hadn’t entirely planned for. I’ll have to tackle that one at a future date.

It was right about this time that the fast moving clouds began to show some sunlight and blue sky. The speed with which the landscape was changing was insane, with entire mountains appearing and then disappearing again, often within the span of a minute or two.

Picture on the left was as I was going up the mountain, and the picture on the right is when I was coming back down. The difference between them is that it was drizzling quite intensely on the way down, and the fog was starting to envelop the valley. The blue sky would not return. Instead, I would get chased down the mountain by increasingly insistent rainfall.

The picture below is just because I’m utterly in love with how green the PNW is.

Views like this feel very alpine, but we were nowhere near that kind of elevation.

Seattle, lately

I’m hoping to make this a recurring series without a set upload schedule, just whenever I feel like I have “enough” images to collect into a blog post, showing pictures from my wanderings around Seattle.

PNW Travelogue - Day Thirteen

It was the day before Halloween, and while I didn’t see all that many places dressed up, I did pass this bar in Capitol Hill that … honestly, between being pink and the cobwebs and the “Sorry we’re dead (inside)” sign, was kind of a delight. I was roughly trying to make my way to Volunteer Park and the Arboretum, but since downtown was nowhere near any of those places, I walked through a number of neighborhoods to get there.

Once I got out of Capitol Hill, the streets became more tree lined and the neighborhoods became a lot more residential.

Volunteer Park was lovely, and clearly quite popular with runners, as I saw them all over the paved paths. There’s a museum and a cemetery, and a small tower of some sort that I didn’t go into because a homeless man was standing at the doorway, talking to anyone who would listen.

There wasn’t really a straightforward way to get to the Arboretum from Volunteer Park, or perhaps there was and I just saw Interlaken Park on the map and decided it was too close not to check out. Either way, I walked along the narrow, winding road through the park, and tried not to get run over. Which, it turns out, was unlikely to be an issue since they were also shooting a movie there! Not anything big budget, but there was a serious looking video crew and lighting and two actors who looked like they were doing a date scene. They were on break as I walked past, and a little further down the road, I saw a crew member running up the road with extra equipment.

Finally got to the Arboretum and of course headed straight for the Japanese Gardens. It was late fall and the colors were everything I wanted. Not going to lie, I had to do some considerable photoshopping to the image below to clone out the bags and other accessories because some folks were taking pictures and had left their stuff all over in a way that really detracted from the scene.

Yes, the water was strangely pitch black.

Having gotten a taste of Japanese gardens at the Arboretum, and seeing that the actual Seattle Japanese Gardens weren’t that far away, of course I had to go visit. I’m sure it would have looked stunning if we had a little bit of break in the clouds and some light, but I’ll take fully overcast over blue skies any day of the week.

The delicate balancing act between waiting for people to not be in the shot while also not standing in the way of a shot that someone else might want to take. There are times when having a person around for scale is incredibly useful. There are also times when a lumbering tourist in the shot kind of ruins the mood. This situation was definitely the latter.

The walk directly back from the gardens to the hotel wasn’t that far on the map, but what the map didn’t tell me was that the first mile would be entirely uphill. Yes, an entire mile. Thank goodness I stopped into a small cafe beforehand and consumed delicious tea and a pastry. The day was a bit chilly, and both were exactly what I needed. I got back to the hotel and collapsed into the bed for a nap.

But there’s no rest for the wicked or weary, so I dragged myself back out again for sunset, down to Pike Place.

See! Sometimes I leave people in on purpose.

I already had one picture of this mural taken from a different angle and from higher up, but this view from Post Alley is hands down my favorite. The person walking down the stairs, the way the lights on the warehouse, the strange public art… all just works together.

I walked down to the water and had a chance to look back on the city from the pier, and … yeah, it was pretty.

PNW Travelogue - Day Twelve

Much to my surprise when I woke up, the sun was shining and the grey clouds of the night before had been banished. When I went to bed, the forecast said it would be a day of off and on drizzle, so I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the unexpectedly lovely conditions. I grabbed a bagel and coffee from Cherry Street Coffee, then decided to take a walk along the waterfront promenade, starting with the ferry terminal. that was right across the road from my hotel window.

In the evenings, there are cars snaked all throughout these lanes, going home on various different ferries.

This would also be the day that I would realize the Space Needle was kind of everywhere in the city, and it felt a little bit like it was looming, watching you. I wandered along the waterfront and ended up at the Olympic Sculpture Park. As far as I could tell, its primary function during the off hours was as a dog park, though they do have all sorts of events there.

Usually, this kind of color effect requires film simulations or presets, but this happened all on its own.

I snaked my way through downtown and up into Queen Anne, with roughly the aim of getting to Fremont eventually. A photographer I follow had a book for sale at a local bookshop there, and I was hoping to pick up a copy. It was around this time that I realized the Space Needle was visible from all over the city, especially as you got higher up. I began to chuckle to myself and photograph it every time I saw it, hoping to have a series of images called The Space Needle Is Watching You. I would collect a couple more the following day, too.

It seriously followed me all over the city.

I passed through the small main corridor of Queen Anne and stopped into Trader Joe’s to grab some snacks before heading up to Mt Pleasant Cemetery. It had a beautiful view of Lake Union and Fremont. I’ve always liked seeing the history of a city through its cemeteries, and this one was a lovely place to spend an hour. I did eventually make my way back down to the bridge and over into Fremont. By pure luck, it happened to be restaurant week, so I got a full meal at 19 Gold for an absolute song, which was fortunate because I was about 23k steps into my day, and I needed real food. Fortified with tasty beef soup and milk tea, I went to the bookshop that was ostensibly the whole reason I walked all the way over to Fremont, but they didn’t have the book!

I walked back over the bridge, marveling at the weather and wondering if Seattle was trying to charm me. I followed the western bank of Lake Union and came across these houseboats that honestly could not have looked more vibrant and adorable if they tried. I have to wonder how often they’re photographed.

One friend remarked that this looked like a puzzle, and I kind of have to agree. I should see about getting one made from it.

Now looking at well over 30k steps and sore feet, I dragged myself into my hotel room for a small nap. Then I woke up and the FOMO hit again. The light! Pike Place! I dragged myself back out and reveled in the glorious west coast sunset.

PNW Travelogue - Day Eleven

I had a choice when I woke up: go back to Portland to hang out with friends, or drive into Washington state to Cape Disappointment, and then on to Seattle. You would think that after 10 days on my own, I would have chosen Portland, but I still felt like I needed more time in solitude. I wasn’t fully ready to be a human in society again. I had tagged a bunch of trails in Cape Disappointment, but somehow completely missed Dead Man’s Cove! Heck, I went down the wrong trail for a good half mile before realizing I was walking away from the lighthouse rather than towards it. All the mistakes were made.

You can just barely make out some mountains in the distance.

The weather was befitting of the location, flat and grey. I wandered around and it was a nice walk, but the opportunities for photography were limited. The woods along the coast were busy and messy, and the coastline itself was largely endless and flat.

It had been raining off and on all day, so I forged ahead to Seattle. I had to return the car to the airport and then take the light rail into downtown, which I hadn’t really researched ahead of time. I spent some time stumbling around trying to figure out how it all worked. Once I got to my station in downtown, I went to the map to figure out where the exits were, and made quick friends with another woman who was going in the same direction. My hotel overlooked the ferry terminal, and she needed to get on the ferry to visit family on Bainbridge Island. I was pleased that my urban instincts kicked in, and I was able to orient myself in the city quickly, leading the way like I’d been in Seattle dozens of times before.

My hotel is worth describing, because it felt like some kind of futuristic pod experience. The rooms were TINY but incredibly well laid out. I had a massive window overlooking Bainbridge and the ferry terminal and a king size bed that felt comically oversized in a room that was scarcely larger than the bed. Definitely too small for long term living, but it did give me a good sense of how much you can do with a minimal amount of square footage if you design the space intelligently.

I was hungry and it was raining, so I grabbed a bite to eat before heading out with my camera. It was already right around sunset when I left the hotel, so I didn’t have much daytime to work with, and no real light.

Shiny objects! My inner crow had to stop and take a picture.

A couple days later, I would take a different composition of these murals and it would turn out to be one of my favorite pictures of the trip.

By the time I got to Pike Place Market, most of the shops had closed, but there was something quite charming about wandering around while it was mostly empty. Even after hours, all the lights were still on. Bright, joyful neon signs lit up in barren hallways still littered with debris from the day.

I knew I wanted to revisit Pike Place when I had more daylight to work with, and wandered further down just to get a better sense of the downtown Seattle vibe. The vibe, it turns out, is that Seattle is HILLY. Everyone talks about San Francisco, but good god, I think the reason everyone drinks so much coffee isn’t just to combat the big dark, but also to have the energy to get from place to place. I’ve been on mountain hikes with less elevation gain than some city blocks in Seattle.

Intentional slow shutter to show some movement. Should’ve slowed it down even more, to be honest.

This is a walkway that goes directly to the ferry terminal, which I didn’t realize at the time.

I headed back to the hotel when it was already well dark. It felt like an underwhelming day all around, but I had high hopes for the next two days in Seattle. I didn’t know it yet, but the city would end up pulling out all the stops to try and charm me.

PNW Travelogue - Day Ten

It was partly sunny and lovely in Seaside, but as I drove south towards Ecola State Park, I got hit with heavy rain and began to worry that my plans for hiking would turn out to be very soggy. However, when I got to the parking lot inside the park, the rain had just stopped (well, mostly) and it looked like the sun might come out after all. There was a ranger doing some maintenance and a few parked cars, but otherwise, I had the place all to myself.

Right as I was about to start on the trail, a cyclist was coming through, and the three of us chatted for a bit. He said the thick forest shielded him from the worst of the rain, but that he would be happy to get back to his car further down the coastal trail.

Now, since I have to assume most of you haven’t been to Ecola, you have to imagine driving through old growth forest so thick and lush that it takes your breath away. Dark with impossibly large pines, ferns wet from mist and rain, moss covering large boulders and dead trees. It is one of the most magical approaches to a state park I have ever seen, and I don’t know that it will ever get old. Unfortunately for all of you, the only thing I can do is describe it because the road is narrow and winding and has nowhere to pull over. One day I will park up at Indian Beach and walk back to take pictures… and hopefully not get run over in the process.

Take the following two images from the trail and imagine even more dense, dark, beautiful lushness. That’s what the road into Ecola looks like.

The ascent was on an old fire road, so while the climb was relentless and steady, it was a wide path and easy to navigate. Then things started to get interesting. The bushwhacking experience from Yoakam Point was starting to come to mind, even though this was technically a properly maintained trail. I was perfectly fine with all of that right up to the point where I came face to face with a large spider who had decided to build his web between the tall shrubs on either side of the trail. There was no way to get around him, and if I decided to turn around, it would involve more than 2.5 miles of backtracking.

I am borderline phobic about spiders. I’ve had bad experiences with them in the past, and here I was, alone in the woods with no good options. I found a stick that wasn’t nearly long enough for the sake of my sanity, and set about gently breaking the web on one side to clear it from my path. It slipped down, and the spider (justifiably annoyed) climbed back up the shrub and sat there at face height on a leaf right on the edge of the trail. The path was barely a foot wide, so this put me at a deeply uncomfortable distance from him. The universe was doing its best to test me, and while I was freaked out by his presence, that didn’t mean I wanted to kill him. After all, those woods were his home and I’m just passing through.

But goddamn he was RIGHT THERE. I started shaking the branches a bit to see if I could dislodge him or get him to move further away from the edge of the path. You know what’s worse than a large spider that’s right there? A large spider that you can no longer see, but he’s clearly somewhere close. I debated between crying and hyperventilating. Eventually, I gathered up what little remaining courage I had and pushed through, then spent the next 5 minutes imagining I could feel him on the back of my neck.

If you look closely, you can see the water dripping from the forest canopy.

After so much time deep in the woods, the trail weaved its way along the coast, and I got a glimpse of this lighthouse, which I suspect must have been manned by generations of people who really really didn’t like working with others. There are days when I can relate.

I knew the sun had once again burned off much of the earlier cloud cover, but if there’s one thing you can rely on in the deep forests of the Pacific Northwest, it’s that the high pine canopy will turn that sunlight into glorious light beams. On future trips, when the forecast says clear blue skies, I’m going to head into the old growth forests, both for respite as well as the beautiful filtered light.

I had notions of going to Haystack Rock in Cannon Beach proper, but the conditions wouldn’t make for good photography. On my trip back in 2020, on my very first night, I caught a beautiful sunset on the beach. I spent a week there and didn’t get a second chance with those conditions, and I haven’t experienced them since. I took a walk along the ocean on the other side of the river just to see where it led.

Since I needed to go back through Cannon Beach to get to Oswald West, I decided to pop into Seasons Cafe for what would turn out to be one of the best meals I ate on the whole trip. The gyro “half” sandwich that was larger than most full sized sandwiches I’ve seen, and an absolutely divine bowl of chicken corn chowder that I desperately need to try and recreate at home.

I headed out to Oswald West to hike some of the trails I hadn’t done before, and it’s a good thing, because my favorite trail from my previous trip was closed, washed out by heavy rains. I spent a fair bit of time getting turned around on the Elk Flats trail, and all in all, I didn’t walk away as impressed as I’d hoped. Especially not compared to my previous experience at Oswald West.

I still had enough daylight left that I drove back to Seaside to wander around town and see the older bits of art deco architecture. By this point, I’d spent 9 days being feral in the woods, so I had to remember how to take pictures in the city, with cars and people and things in straight lines. Be a citizen of society and all.

This walk goes the full length of the old downtown along the beach. You have to wonder how much time they spend pushing the sand back.

The actual beach at Seaside is exactly the sort of place you go for a family vacation. It’s flat and wide and safe because there are no cars anywhere nearby. Unfortunately, that also makes it not terribly interesting to photograph.

It wasn’t a spectacular sunset or anything, but there were people sitting on the benches, just enjoying the light and warmth.

As I walked through town, I got a sense for the way coastal tourist towns are all the same. There were parts of the city where, if you’d told me I was Ocean City, I would have believed you. Sure, the boardwalk was different, and the sea air just smells different on the West coast, but the architecture and shops have that familiar feel. There was even an indoor amusement park complete with creepy clowns.

This intersection was such a great example of what I imagine Seaside used to look like 70+ years ago.

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