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.
