About the Photo: Crowned By Dawn
I keep two scratch off maps in my office. One for states and one for National Parks. I had one glaring section of my map that I had wanted to cross off for a long time. That area was the Pacific Northwest, Washington and Oregon. I decided that I was going to fly out to Seattle and cross two states and three National Parks off my list. I gave myself two weeks to capture the essence of the Northwest. That seemed like a lot of time but looking back, it wasn't enough. I spent a couple months planning everything I wanted to see. All the driving and the places to stay. I decided the end of September into October was the best time to go. I knew I was putting myself up against the rainy season but the thoughts of seeing fall color at Mount Rainier and the golden larches in North Cascades were worth the risk. One thing I didn’t take into account was that the Government was going to shut down a few days after I arrived which brought a lot of unknowns. At the time, I wasn’t sure if that meant the parks would close and I’d have to scramble to come up with other plans or not. Luckily the parks stayed open and I could see everything I wanted.
With that background out of the way, here is how “Crowned By Dawn” came to be and how it almost didn’t happen.
I flew out to Seattle on the night of September 26. By the time my flight arrived, I got my rental car and I made it to my hotel, it was almost midnight. I was tired from that five hour flight and just wanted to get some sleep. I figured I had two weeks, I didn’t need to rush my first morning. Plus the forecast was calling for 100% clouds. there was no shot of a sunrise happening.
The stress of the unknown with the Government shutdown and the fact that I was still on Maryland time, I woke up early. I lied in bed contemplating what to do. I took my time leaving the hotel but I decided to head to Mount Rainier so I could at least see the park if it did shutdown in a couple days. I had a two hour drive to get there and I’d be arriving right around sunrise if I was lucky. As I got to the park gates it was still dark. The trees were thick so I didn’t know what I was arriving to. The further I drove into the park, the more the trees opened up. I noticed that the sky was starting to get some color. Oh no, did I blow my shot at sunrise? A little bit of panic was going through my head but I knew I still had a shot.
I pulled into a parking spot at Reflection Lake. The sky was gaining more color on the horizon. I quickly gathered my camera bag and tripod and headed towards the lake. I tried going down a path but it was blocked off for restoration. Oh no, I’m losing more time. The sky is getting brighter. Colors are getting stronger. I turn around and find another way down to the shore. I find a nice quiet spot to sit up my tripod. I got my camera mounted and suddenly the sky erupted in pinks and rose golds all around Mount Rainier. The lake sat perfectly still living up to the name Reflection Lake. Interesting clouds hung in the sky between Mount Rainier and the sunrise so I lined up a panoramic shot and the rest is history. “Crowned By Dawn” was born.
All the stress of the morning, the panic, the lack of sleep, all worth it and I’d do it all again for a sunrise like that morning. I’d love to hear your thoughts about my photo. Also tell me your story about a time you almost missed a shot but pulled it off. Comment below and let me know.
Finding the Whisper in the Roar: The Art of the Intimate Landscape
We’ve all been there. You’ve planned a trip to that bucket list National Park or perhaps you’ve simply woken up early to catch the morning light at a local sanctuary. But nature doesn't always follow our script. The sky turns a flat, stubborn gray. The wildlife you hoped to see remains hidden in the brush.
In those moments it’s easy to feel defeated. But I’ve learned that when nature fails to cooperate, it’s usually because nature is inviting me to look closer. Instead of packing up and going home, I shift my focus. I stop looking for the roar and start listening for the whisper. I start looking for the intimate.
This perspective is just as valuable when the conditions are perfect. We often flock to the famous grand vistas, those iconic overlooks that have been photographed a thousand times. There is nothing wrong with capturing that big view for your own collection but if you want to create something that truly resonates you have to find the scene within the scene. Look for the abstract patterns, the interplay of light on a single ridge or the quiet textures that everyone else is walking right past. This is how you find a photo that is uniquely yours. One that makes a viewer pause and wonder, Where was this?
Last year I was in Olympic National Park. I made the trip to Rialto Beach to photograph the seastacks. When I got there I quickly realized that the shot I wanted wasn’t going to happen. The wind was fierce, waves were crashing hard and the sky was that ugly flat grey that brings nothing to a photograph. I could have let the conditions shut me down but instead I spent a moment just taking in the scene. I started looking at the driftwood that had accumulated on the beach. I found a log that had rocks that waves had deposited in a hole. What resulted wasn't a postcard of Rialto Beach. It was an intimate shot that captured the side of the beach that most just walk by.
A similar shift happened during a quiet walk through the woodlands. I was searching for birds but the forest was still. Rather than heading back to my car, I began to scan the forest floor. I found a fallen cherry tree. Stripped of its bark, all that was left was a core of twisted orange hardwood. By slowing down and working the angles, I framed the wood so the natural cracks flowed diagonally, creating a sense of movement. The contrast of the warm orange wood against the vibrant green moss felt like a conversation between the past and the present. “Written By Time” was born.
Even at a place as massive as the Grand Canyon, the “hero” shot often lacks the one thing it needs most, scale. While the morning light was hitting the canyon walls, I spotted a lone figure sitting on a cliff edge, dwarfed by the landscape surrounding him. By using my long lens to frame him against the shadowed canyon walls, his blue shirt popping against the red rock, I captured the feeling of being there how small we really are. “Feeling Small” remains my favorite photo from that trip to the Grand Canyon.
Next time you’re out with your camera, don’t let the bad conditions or missing wildlife end your day. Nature is always telling a story. Sometimes you just have to lean in a little closer to hear it. Look for those intimate scenes and you’ll often walk away with the most meaningful images of your journey.