It’s hard to believe another twelve months have already passed! Photographically, 2025 was an interesting—and overall very good—year for me. It was also busier than normal. Beyond work and various photography trips, I was asked to deliver a handful of presentations. I am a teacher by trade so helping others broaden their understanding of a topic or open their eyes to a new way of thinking is one of the most rewarding things I can think of spending my time. While I hope my audiences found my presentations relatable, relevant, and ultimately beneficial, there was a secondary benefit to developing these presentations. It forced me to carefully think through and precisely articulate my own views, practice, and philosophy on a chosen topic. This made me realize how much knowledge actually resides on an intuitive level. I might understand something intuitively, but how do I effectively communicate that “wordless” understanding using actual words? I found this process both challenging and illuminating. In the end, though, it helped me improve as a photographer and teacher just as much as it may have benefited any audience member. And for this I am grateful.
The first nine months of the year felt busy. Work, photography trips, presentations, etc. occupied much of my spare time. I normally thrive on a busy schedule, and at first this busy pace felt energizing, but by mid-fall I knew I needed a break. I just wanted to unplug from the broader world of nature photography and just create purely for myself. I wanted to simplify and reconnect with the way I had photographed for many years: exploring nature with a camera, creating for the sheer joy of it, while ignoring the noise and expectations from the outside world. I spent the past two and a half months doing exactly that. It was an opportunity to reset, a return to baseline, a chance to recapture that spark. The impact on my photography has been deeply positive. I now feel more motivated than I have at any point in the past two years, and I’m genuinely excited to see what 2026 has in store.
So before moving on to the coming year what were some of the images and experiences which made lasting impressions during 2025?
Utah Canyon Backpacking: In March my family and I spent a few day backpacking through a magical canyon in southern Utah. Water flows through the canyon creating a riparian corridor filled with interesting trees, grasses, shrubs and geologic features which combined to offer a wide spectrum of photographic opportunities. I had visited and photographed this canyon once before, four years earlier, with two close friends. The soaring sandstone walls, arches, color, and plays of light spoke to me deeply. During that trip I made a vow to return with my family so they could experience the power and beauty which permeates this place. Making this happen was a true highlight of 2025.
K2 Basecamp Trek: I’m not sure where to even begin talking about this journey into the Karakoram mountains of Pakistan. Let’s just say it was the trip of a lifetime. For over thirty years I’d dreamt of seeing this range filled with soaring granite spires, raging rivers, and enormous glaciers, all culminating in the classic view of K2 from Concordia. I only started processing the images from this trip recently. The plan is to release them as part of a free ebook for my newsletter subscribers sometime during the first part of 2026. You can sign up here to receive your free copy once it’s released.
Bugaboo Provincial Park: The Bugaboos are not exactly a household name. I have no idea why. Located southwest of the more famous Jasper, Banff, and Yoho National Parks, this unassuming provincial park is a hidden gem for backpackers, climbers, and photographers. There’s a catch — you have to earn the views by backpacking high into the mountains. We spent three days wandering up to and across a high ridge offering jaw-dropping views towards the core of the Buguboos: glaciers, massive spires, and pristine forests. Wind and rain were our companions for much of the trip. It was a rewarding, raw, and glorious trip and an easy selection as a highlight of 2025.
Goals for 2026: Setting a loose set of goals at the beginning of a new year is something I’ve often done for a while now. So here are a few broad suggestions I’ve given myself to work on over the coming twelve months:
Seek out more compositionally complex forest scenes, rely less on tight framings of single trees
Photograph around the edges of the day more often. Seek out situations yeilding more dynamic light, less flat light.
Embrace wide angle again. Get serious about macro.
Open my mind to all the possibilities offered by coastal photography.
Write more, both for myself and for public consumption.
Photograph even more.
Without further ado, here are a handful of images which bring me back to those places and experiences which made 2025 such an great year. Thanks to all of the people whose friendship, humor, skill, and council helped me along the way. You know who you are.
”Medley”, Klickitat Canyon, Washington, November 2025
The oak forests of southern Washington have been a muse of mine for five years now. These characterful trees offer quite a different aesthetic compared to the tall straight evergreens found throughout western Oregon and Washington. In fall these oaks show off a spectrum yellows, reds, oranges, and browns, perhaps the best fall color in the entire Pacific Northwest. I photographed this scene in one of my favorite pockets of oak forest deep within a canyon. Rain fell off and on all day helping to saturate colors while creating soft tonal contrasts. In other words, perfect conditions for a day of slow, contemplative photography. Best of all I was the only person out there. For eight hours I visited and photographed several of my favorite spots in a large canyon. Each time I photographed completely alone. Just me, the oaks, and the sound of the river. Easily one of my favorite days of photograph of 2025.
“Into the Mistic”, Olympic National Park, October 2025
Olympic National Park is special. Wild, raw, wondrous, difficult, and always surprising. My friend Bryan Swan and I spent a few days photographing fall color in one of the rainforest valleys. I’d never photographed this particular valley in fall and was blown away by the potential. It’s a place I now know I’ll return to each fall for the next several years. That’s how strong an impression those days deep in the forest left on me. As inspiring as the fall color was, it was an unexpected display of fog drifting through a tall hillside covered in primal, pristine old growth forest that turned out to be the highlight of the trip. I’ve photographed fog in forests many times over years but this display is hands down one of the most awe-inducing. It was one of those moments when I knew, even while photographing it, that it would be a cherished memory from 2025.
“Tree, Hill, Color”, southwest Colorado
In all my years as a photographer I’ve never photographed fall in Colorado. I’ve sure heard a lot about it from photography friends who make the annual pilgrimage to this mecca of fall photography. Me? Never had the chance. My schedule wouldn’t allow for it. Until this year. In early October I was invited to give a presentation at the Horizons Fall Photography Conference in Durango, Colorado. A few shuffles in my schedule opened up just enough time after the conference — twenty-four hours to be exact — to head out and sample Colorado in the fall. In my mind I wanted to encounter a combination of brilliant color mixed with swaths of trees recently stripped of their foliage, and that’s exactly what I found. A quick evening session, a great night’s sleep in the truck, a quick morning session, then back to the airport for the flight home. It was just a taste, but is was pretty darn delicious.
“Mashallah”, Karakoram mountains, Pakistan, July 2025
This was my last view of K2 I saw after visiting basecamp and beginning the long trek down valley from Concordia, a place I’d dreamt of visiting for over thirty years. It had snowed on the mountain the night before, quite a bit. The fresh snow gave this massive mountain a new character and never on my visit did she look so ferociously beautiful. I stopped, took several photographs, spent a few last lingering moments gazing up at this magical giant, then shouldered my pack and continued my hike down valley. Within ten more minutes I lost sight of K2 for the last time. And I felt at peace. The mountain had given me one last departing gift.
“Toward Brightness”, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon, April 2025
Over the years early spring has become more and more special to me. One major reason is the chance to photograph these long dangling petal-less flowers known as catkins. At the beginning of each spring catkins sprout from local cottonwoods and oaks. Catkins come in a variety of colors — mostly golds and reds — which can appear to mimic fall’s extravagance. Their dangling forms offer textures which are noticeably different compared to when the trees are covered in mature leaves. Early spring’s initial burst of life also signals a move toward light from dark. And, for me, this photograph reflects this story of spring’s arrival well.
“Spinning Disks”, Gifford Pinchot National Forest, Washington
I wanted to photograph the forest during a decent rainfall. I felt an urge to see what possibilities may lurk in damp, gloomy conditions. I can honestly say it was a struggle to find inspiration throughout my hike that day. I just wasn’t seeing it, or feeling it. That’s how it goes sometimes. I decided there was nothing to do except enjoy the hike while resisting the urge to curse the dead, useless thirty pounds of camera gear weighing me down. At the four mile mark the trail briefly touched the shore of the river I hiked along. A moderate rain fell on a flat section of water lurking within an eddy. Here, unexpectedly, was the inspiration which had eluded me. I spent a good while photographing these radiating circles, experimenting with shutter speeds and focal lengths. This is my favorite images from the session. The rain had brought me into the forest that day, but not to photograph the trees as I had expected, but rather this small section of river covered in spinning circles.
“Softness”, Glenn Canyon Recreation Area, Utah, March 2025
One criteria for an end of year selection is whether I continue to enjoy an image whenever I see it. This is the case here. The soft colors, contrasts, and pleasing composition make this image an easy selection for this year’s end of year rewind.
“Shine a Light”, Glenn Canyon Recreation Area, Utah, March 2025
“Light does some amazing things down in that canyon.” This is the entirety of a text I sent to the photography friend who first showed me this magical canyon in southern Utah. It wasn’t lie, or even an exaggeration. Light works differently deep down in this steep walled canyon. That’s the beauty of high walled, narrow canyons, they naturally limit the amount of light reaching river level, even at midday. This creates unexpected and unique opportunities to photograph subjects receiving direct spotlighting. That’s exactly what happened during a late March backpacking trip through this canyon. A moment of good timing during a day’s worth of uninterrupted hiking.