Sunrise at Grand View Point – Canyonlands’ Quiet Awakening
A serene morning hike to Grand View Point in Canyonlands National Park leads to first light over Junction Butte and glowing desert vistas.
The Journey In
I began the hike in near darkness, following the faint outline of the trail rim under starlight. Desert brush brushed my legs, and the soft crunch of sandstone underfoot echoed in the silence. As the horizon began to glow, I scrambled up a stack of rocks — my footsteps guided more by memory than sight — until I reached the overlook I had long scouted above Junction Butte.
There, perched on a slab that felt sculpted just for me, I laid down my pack and began to breathe in the stillness.
The First Light
As the sun broke across the horizon, beams of amber light spilled over the vast canyonlands. The sandstone formations blushed warm with the day’s first color, and haze settled gently in the distance, softening the jagged mesas into painterly layers. Junction Butte stood like a monument in the middle distance, catching the glow like it had been waiting for this very moment.
This was why I came.
The Shot
The light was fleeting, and I knew I had only a few minutes. I framed the shot to balance the sculpted foreground with the glowing butte, careful to capture the scale and serenity of the canyon beyond. The stillness, the space, the solitude — all of it came together in that one breath of morning.
Location & Gear
**📍 Location:** Canyonlands National Park
**🧭 Trail & Access:** Grand Viewpoint trail
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 15–35mm f/2.8
- Really Right Stuff tripod
Stormlight on the Brink – A Sunset Reckoning with the Sea
A dramatic Oregon Coast adventure chasing golden light and storm-driven surf beneath towering sea stacks — a story of patience, danger, and breathtaking reward.
This is probably my favorite place in the world. I had seen it in photographs countless times, but nothing — truly nothing — prepared me for the overwhelming scale of this sea stack when I stood before it. The way it commands the coastline, rooted in crashing surf and glowing skies, left me breathless.
The Challenge of Timing
Photographing this scene was never about just showing up. It took several attempts, each one testing my patience and resolve. The perfect image required a delicate mix of variables:
A recent storm to stir the ocean into motion
High tide at sunset to expose the foreground
And clouds just sparse enough to let the sun ignite the sky
The Descent
Getting there is an adventure in itself. I made my way down a steep, unmarked trail carved into the cliffs. With the Pacific Ocean thundering on my left, I navigated narrow ledges and crumbling soil until I reached a twisted, gnarled tree — its roots exposed by erosion, clutching the earth like veins.
It was here that I passed into the coastal wild. The trail narrowed further. One misstep, and the drop was unforgiving. I carefully stepped across the exposed roots, wind battering me from the ocean’s recent tantrum, the salt spray stinging my face.
The Moment
Finally, I found my footing, set up my tripod, and waited. The clouds began to glow, catching fire with the setting sun. Waves slammed against the base of the monolith with tremendous force. It was violent, chaotic — and somehow, deeply serene.
The Challenge Behind the Shot
Capturing this image wasn’t just about being in the right place at the right time — it demanded a full arsenal of technical precision and patience. The scene before me was vast and layered: a towering sea stack, wind-swept foregrounds, and a sky ablaze with light — each element requiring its own plane of focus.
To do the moment justice, I built the final frame from a multi-row panorama, carefully stitched from several images across horizontal and vertical axes. I used focus stacking to ensure sharp detail from the windswept foreground grasses to the distant sea stack’s jagged outline. And with the sun piercing low through marine haze, I bracketed exposures to preserve the full dynamic range — from the golden glint on the crashing surf to the darkened sky roiling with storm energy.
This wasn’t just a photograph — it was a construction of time, motion, and stillness. A meditation in chaos.
In that golden hour, the cliffs burned, the sky bled light, and the Pacific roared with fury. It was everything I had imagined — and so much more.
Location & Gear
**📍 Location:** Southern Oregon Coast
**🧭 Trail & Access:** Unmarked spur trail (~0.5 miles, steep and loose — not recommended when wet)
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 15–35mm f/2.8
- Neutral Density Filter
- Really Right Stuff tripod with spiked feet for rocky terrain
Edge of Autumn – Golden Light at Bow Lake
Golden trees, glassy reflections, and peaceful sunrise at Bow Lake—an unforgettable autumn morning captured in the Canadian Rockies.
There’s something sacred about autumn in the Rockies. The air turns crisp, the crowds thin, and the landscape begins its most dramatic transformation. I had long envisioned capturing Bow Lake at the peak of fall—when golden trees hug the shoreline and the first light of day glances across the water.
The Experience
Fall is my favorite season, and this morning reminded me exactly why. I arrived well before dawn, walking the lake’s edge in silence, the only sound the crunch of frost under my boots. I was completely alone.
As the sun crept over the mountains, it cast long, golden rays that lit up the forest in a soft, fiery glow. The stillness of the water mirrored the trees and peaks perfectly—no wind, no rush. Just light and color and stillness.
Challenges
Photographing in this kind of light is both a gift and a challenge. The window is brief—just minutes where the warm tones paint the scene before shadows shift. I used a wide-angle lens and a polarizer to cut glare off the lake and enhance the reflection. The large dynamic range meant I needed to bracket exposures to capture the full extent of the scene
Final Reflections
What made this morning truly special was the solitude. No footsteps, no shutter clicks except my own. Just me, the mountains, and the fiery larch trees reflected in perfect calm. It’s moments like this that make all the early alarms and scouting missions worth it.
Fall doesn’t last long, but it always leaves an impression.
Location & Gear
**📍 Location:** Bow Lake, Alberta
**🧭 Trail & Access:** Unmarked spur trail
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 24–105mm f/4
- Really Right Stuff tripod with spiked feet for rocky terrain
Sunbeams and Steel – Chasing the Perfect Train Shot
Four visits, hours of waiting, and one missed train — all for a few seconds of perfect light. This is the story behind “Sunbeams and Steel,” a shot years in the making.
The Wait
Some photographs come easily. Others test your patience — again and again.
This shot was the latter.
There’s no official schedule posted for this commuter train. Sometimes it glides past within minutes. Other times, you can wait for hours — only for the perfect light to vanish before it ever appears. I made the trip out to this quiet bend in the tracks four separate times, each time chasing the shot I had imagined: a train illuminated by morning sunbeams, framed by trees and mist.
Once, I pulled up just as the train was already rounding the corner — I scrambled for my camera, only to watch it vanish in a blur of motion before I could fire a single frame. Another time, I waited for two hours in silence, with golden light streaming perfectly through the forest… but no train ever came.
Persistence Rewarded
On my fourth attempt, I arrived early — well before sunrise. A chill hung in the air, and the trees were still wet with dew. As the sky began to brighten, soft shafts of light broke through the trees, casting streaks of gold across the forest floor.
I checked the tracks. Nothing yet. I adjusted my composition, dialed in my settings, and waited.
And then, a distant hum.
The train emerged from the curve, just as the light reached its peak. Beams of sunlight sliced through the trees, illuminating the steel cars as they rolled through the forest. I fired off a series of shots, holding my breath. The moment lasted seconds — but I had it.
This wasn’t just a photo. It was a reward for persistence, for all the near misses and quiet waits. And it reminded me: the best images are often the ones you have to earn.
Photography often asks for more than technical skill — it demands patience, persistence, and sometimes a little luck. This shot was a reminder of that.
Location & Gear
**📍 Location:** Morant’s Curve
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 24-105mm f/4L
- Really Right Stuff tripod
Hunting Ice Bubbles in Banff's Deep Freeze
Battling -30°C wind on Abraham Lake, I discovered iconic methane bubbles and golden sunrise light over Mount Michener—winter in Banff at its rawest.
With the temperature hovering near -30°C, I was bundled in layers and gloves, bracing myself against the biting wind that howled across the frozen expanse of Abraham Lake. My camera bag slid across the ice like a sailboat, pushed by gusts strong enough to make me stumble. My eyelashes froze. I could barely see. But through it all, I was completely alive—searching for a scene I’d long dreamed of capturing: the fabled ice bubbles of Banff.
The Journey
- The windchill cut through every layer—3 gloves deep, and I still had to pause to warm my fingers.
- The surface of the lake groaned and cracked beneath me, a haunting sound in the frozen silence.
- I wandered cautiously, scanning for that iconic scene: stacked methane bubbles suspended like frozen pearls beneath the ice.
The Discovery
Finally, the perfect patch. Crystalline bubbles layered below my boots, glowing faintly blue beneath the glassy ice. As I looked up, the sun crested the horizon and spilled its light across Mount Michener. The mountain caught the first golden rays like a beacon—its snow-covered flanks illuminated in soft, pastel pinks and warm ambers. That light reflected subtly across the lake’s surface, giving the entire scene a surreal, ethereal glow. The composition framed itself—leading lines, contrast, texture, light. It was why I came to Banff in winter.
This photo reminds me that beauty in nature is often brutal. The best moments don’t come easy—but they’re unforgettable. If you ever get the chance to visit Abraham Lake in the winter, do it. Just bring hand warmers… and goggles.
Behind the Shot
**📍 Location:** Abraham Lake
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 15–35mm f/2.8
- Shot with a wide-angle lens, low to the surface
- Focus stacked for depth of field
- Wind gusts made it almost impossible to keep the tripod steady — I used my full weight to anchor it
- Really Right Stuff Tripod
Emberlight on the Meadow – A Morning to Remember at Rainier
Glowing skies, golden foliage, and a fleeting moment of alignment at Mount Rainier — this is the story of chasing light in “Emberlight on the Meadow.”
Anticipation on the Road to Paradise
Some mornings just feel different.
As I drove up toward Paradise, the sky had already begun to blush with color — a surefire sign that something special was about to unfold. That quiet thrill began to stir in my chest, the kind of feeling that makes you speed up ever so slightly, double-check your gear in the passenger seat, and steal glances at the clouds glowing above the treeline.
I knew this morning had potential.
The Rush for Composition
By the time I pulled into the lot, the clouds above Rainier were already starting to bloom with color. I scrambled out of the car, breath pluming in the cold morning air, fumbling to find the composition I had carefully scouted the day before.
There’s always a moment of frantic energy when you know the light is about to peak — and you’re not quite set up. Tripod legs clatter open. Gloves half on. Lens cap somewhere in the grass. And then…
The Emberlight Moment
Mount Rainier stood bold and radiant, its shoulders wrapped in drifting clouds painted in hues of lavender and flame. In front of me, the scrub oak burned gold, echoing the sky above. I paused for a breath — the light, the tones, the stillness — it all aligned.
Rainier is never a guarantee. The mountain creates its own weather, and many trips end in whiteouts or disappointment. But that morning? That morning was perfect.
This frame, Emberlight on the Meadow, is one of those images that feels like a reward not just for being there — but for loving the process.
Location & Gear
**📍 Location:** Paradise, Mount Rainier
**🧭 Trail & Access:** Skyline Trail
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 15–35mm f/2.8
- Really Right Stuff tripod
Where the Wind Meets the Wild – A Morning Descent into Fury
Before dawn, I scrambled down a cliffside on the Oregon Coast, guided only by crashing waves and instinct. What I found was raw, untamed ocean power beneath a glowing sky.
In the dark, before the horizon softened into color, I stood at the edge of a cliff on the Oregon Coast with nothing but the roar of waves below. I had traced the trailhead the day before, but nothing quite prepares you for descending steep terrain by headlamp, knowing only by sound how close the sea is.
Each crashing wave echoed upward — deafening and relentless. There’s a primal awe that comes with hearing the Pacific in a mood like that. My boots slipped on loose gravel as I lowered myself toward a jagged shore, adrenaline overriding hesitation.
When the first blush of light painted the sea stacks, I froze. I had never seen waves this size in person. They rose and collapsed in slow, thunderous rhythm — nature’s violence and beauty in equal measure. The cliffs lit up with warm gold, casting long shadows across the frothing whitewater below.
This image, *Where the Wind Meets the Wild*, is one of my favorite captures from that morning. It’s not just about light or composition — it’s about reverence. For danger, for discovery, and for the places that make you feel small in the best possible way.
This morning reminded me why I chase light and solitude in wild places. Sometimes the hardest descents bring the most unforgettable moments. Where the Wind Meets the Wild is available as a fine art print in multiple sizes.
Location & Gear
**📍 Location:** Northern Oregon Coast
**🧭 Trail & Access:** Unmarked spur trail (~0.5 miles, steep and loose — not recommended when wet)
**🎒 Gear Used:**
- Canon R5
- 15–35mm f/2.8
- Neutral Density Filter
- Really Right Stuff tripod with spiked feet for rocky terrain