Abiqua Falls sits in the Willamette Valley foothills about an hour south of Portland. There are no signs pointing you there. No trailhead kiosk. No parking lot, really. You leave your car on the shoulder of a logging road and start walking.
The route follows the edge of private property through the woods. It's not an official trail. Parts of it are clear enough, but other sections require pushing through brush and scrambling over downed trees. The real fun starts when you reach the drop down to the creek. It's a steep, muddy slope that calls for some amateur-level rappelling, grabbing roots and whatever else is available to keep from sliding the whole way down.
Once you're at the bottom, you walk along Abiqua Creek toward the falls. The canyon narrows and the basalt walls close in around you. Then the amphitheater opens up and there it is.
The falls drop straight down into a wide pool, flanked on both sides by columnar basalt. The columns are massive, dark, and covered in patches of moss. It feels like walking into a place that was never really meant for visitors.
I set up the tripod and worked through a few compositions. The long exposure turned the falls into a smooth white sheet against the dark rock. A large boulder sits in the pool just off-center, covered in moss, and it anchored the wide shot nicely. The mist coming off the base of the falls kept the lens wet, so I was wiping it down between every frame.
My wife stood at the edge of the pool for a while, just taking it in. That's the shot that probably says the most about this place. You do the work to get down here, and then you just stand there.
The hike back out is the same muddy scramble in reverse, except now you're pulling yourself up instead of sliding down. We got back to the car covered in mud and completely satisfied.
If you're in the Portland area and don't mind getting a little dirty, Abiqua Falls is one of the best things you can find in Oregon. Just don't expect a marked trail.
Tamanawas Falls is one of those hikes that delivers way more than the effort suggests. About two miles each way from the trailhead off Highway 35 on Mount Hood. Easy to get to, hard to forget.
I hiked it in November 2015. Snow had just started settling in, which made the whole trail feel different from the summer crowds you normally hear about. Quiet. Cold. Just the sound of the creek the entire way.
The trail follows Cold Spring Creek almost the entire way. A few log crossings, a footbridge, and a lot of moss-covered rocks. I set up the tripod a couple of times along the creek before even reaching the falls. The long exposure smooths out the water nicely against the snow and green moss.
Then you get to the falls. Tamanawas drops about 100 feet off a basalt cliff into a boulder field. In November the mist was constant and everything around the base was coated in ice. Not the easiest conditions for keeping a lens clean, but worth it.
December in the Columbia River Gorge means rain, green, and a lot of water. I drove out on December weekend in 2014 to hit two falls on the Oregon side: Elowah and Wahclella. Both were running hard.
Elowah Falls drops about 213 feet straight down a basalt wall. The moss on the surrounding rock was vivid green, even in the flat winter light. I set up with a longer exposure to smooth out the water into a single white streak against all that dark rock. The scale of the cliff face really only comes through when you notice the trees at the base.
Wahclella Falls is a shorter hike but just as rewarding. The trail follows Tanner Creek into a narrow gorge and the falls appear tucked between massive boulders covered in moss and ferns. I got two shots I liked here — one tighter on the falls framed by the canyon walls, and a wider composition with the footbridge in the midground and the creek flowing toward camera. Long exposure again to get that silky water texture in the creek.
Both hikes are short and easy. If you're in the Gorge area and want waterfalls without the Multnomah Falls crowds, these two are worth the stop.
The wreck of the Peter Iredale sits on Clatsop Beach inside Fort Stevens State Park, about ten miles south of Astoria. It ran aground in October 1906 while trying to enter the Columbia River in fog and heavy winds. All crew survived and the ship never left.
I drove out on a clear February evening in 2015 and caught it at low tide during golden hour. The rusted iron skeleton is smaller than you expect from photos. Just the bow section now, tilted and half-buried in wet sand. Up close the steel plates are layered with rust and barnacles, eaten through in places where salt water has had over a hundred years to work.
Even on a winter evening, there were people walking around the wreck. I used long exposures to ghost them out of the frame instead of dealing with it in post. Worked well enough.
The mouth of the Columbia is known as the Graveyard of the Pacific. Around 2,000 vessels have gone down in this area. The Peter Iredale is the most accessible of them. You park, walk a few minutes across flat sand, and there it is.
I shot these during the last hour of light. The warm tones on the rusted steel were hard to beat.
Silver Falls State Park is about an hour and a half south of Portland. Ten waterfalls along one loop trail, all of them big, all surrounded by old-growth forest.
At the time back in 2015 I was leaning into long exposure photography and waterfalls were the obvious subject for that. Tripod, slow shutter, and the water goes from chaotic to smooth. January trip meant the park was empty, the falls were running hard from winter rain, and everything was that deep soaked-through green you get in Oregon.
South Falls is the big one at 177 feet. You can walk behind it on a trail cut into the cliff. I worked a few different angles here, trying to get the scale right. The long exposures did the heavy lifting, turning the falls into something clean against all that rough basalt and moss.
I love visiting Snoqualmie Falls when the water is really raging. Most people visit on a calm summer day, take the postcard shot from the upper viewpoint, and move on. But catch it after heavy rain and the falls transform into something else entirely. The whole gorge fills with mist and spray, the roar is deafening, and you can barely see the rock face through the wall of water crashing 268 feet down.
I took this shot on one of those moody Pacific Northwest days where the sky and the water seem to blend into one. The falls were running heavy, swallowing everything in this thick, cold mist that drifted up over the railing. Dark, dramatic, a little intimidating. Not the kind of scene you put on a tourism brochure, but exactly the kind that makes you stand there a little longer.
When you visit the site keep a note of the lodge perched at the top of the cliff. The Salish Lodge up there served as the exterior for the Great Northern Hotel in David Lynch's iconic show. Back in the early '90s these falls became one of the most recognizable TV landscapes in the world. Standing there in the mist, with the thundering water below and that lodge barely visible above, it's easy to see why Lynch picked this spot. There's a mystery to it, especially on days like this.
We drove down to Pacific City on a cold December afternoon in 2014, chasing whatever light the Oregon coast would give us, with my trusty Pentax DSLR.
The sandstone cliffs hit you all at once. Orange and gold layers carved by waves that never stop crashing. The colors shift constantly - steel blue where the rock meets the ocean, everything washed in that soft Pacific Northwest winter light.
I spent most of the time on the cliffs above, watching the surf pound the rocks below. Haystack Rock sits just offshore like a silent sentinel, backlit by the fading sun. From up here you can see the coastline stretching north into the mist, with waves rolling in one after another.
It's raw and beautiful in a way the Southwest never is. No red rock grandeur, just the quiet, relentless power of the Pacific meeting ancient stone.
Floras Lake sits on the southern Oregon coast, tucked away from pretty much everything. It's one of those kitesurfing spots that people whisper about. Consistent thermal wind, flat water on the lake side, waves on the ocean side if that's your thing. I'd been wanting to check it out for years.
The campground overlooking the lake is nothing fancy, but has all the necessities (including hot shower!) which is exactly the point. We set up with a group of friends one of the past summers, and that was it. No agenda. The kids ran around, we made food on the camp stove, and the hours just kind of disappeared.
The beach here feels different from the Washington coast. Emptier. Colder. Dune grass everywhere, driftwood scattered across dark sand, and this low mist that hangs over everything in the evening. We walked for a while and didn't see another person.
At night, with no towns nearby, the sky opens up completely. I hauled my tripod down to the lake edge where I'd spotted this gnarled piece of driftwood earlier in the day. Spent a while getting the composition right, then started shooting long exposures as the Milky Way came into view. For the final shot, I painted some light onto the driftwood with my flashlight while the shutter was open. Took a few tries to get the balance right, but when it worked, it worked. Only wish I could see the Milky Way more often!
When my older daughter was born, we did a trip to our favorite PNW coastal town of Cannon Beach in January, and it was exactly what you’d expect: moody skies, driftwood everywhere, and that raw coastal chill that cuts right through you.
But honestly? That’s what makes winter visits here so special.
The beaches were nearly empty. My dogs loved roaming around and playing fetch. Haystack Rock stood imposing in the mist, its companions emerging from the fog like silent sentinels.
The town itself felt almost eerie in its quietness. Wind through the pines, distant waves, steel-gray skies overhead - quintessentially Pacific Northwest.
No dramatic sunsets this trip, but the diffused winter light gave everything that muted, cinematic quality I was hoping for.
There’s a reason Delicate Arch is on Utah’s license plates. Standing there at sunset, watching the light paint that impossible sandstone span in shades of amber and gold, you get it immediately. Some landscapes photograph well. This one photographs perfectly.
Our 2016 Southwest road trip brought us through Arches on what turned out to be an ideal day. Scattered clouds, soft light, and that particular desert stillness that makes you want to whisper. The park is surprisingly compact but packs an incredible density of geological drama into every viewpoint.
The first shot is from Courthouse Towers, early in the drive. Those massive sandstone monoliths (the Three Gossips, the Organ, Tower of Babel) rising from the desert floor like ruins of some ancient cathedral. There’s a humbling scale to it all that photos struggle to capture.
Further along, the Windows section offered this layered view of the La Sal Mountains rising behind the fins and arches. Red rock, sage brush, snow-capped peaks disappearing into haze. If you look closely, there’s a tiny RV on the road below that gives you a sense of just how big everything really is.
Last stop of the day was the Delicate Arch which I tried to time for the golden hour. The hike up is worth every step for this moment. As we got to the Arch the sky was under full cloud cover and the photographer lined up to take the traditional straight-up shot of the Arch were a bit disappointed. Other hiker were walking all around the Arch taking selfies, but as we got to the peak of golden hour the clouds scattered and the sky opened up again creating a beautiful scene. I have decided to position myself at an angle looking into the sun instead of at the La Sal Mountains. Setup my camera on a tripod taking interval pictures and just sat down with my partner and relaxed taking in the scenery.
The last part of our 2016 road trip took us to Moab, AZ, with plans to explore Arches National Park. Before that, I got up in the middle of the night to drive through Canyonlands National Park to find Mesa Arch. The drive was interesting—pitch black the entire way (my surprise came on the drive back, when the scenery revealed itself). I arrived in time to hike the short trail from the road to Mesa Arch and set up among other photographers. Since the line was already packed, I chose a slightly different angle, which also gave me a great view of the underside of the arch, beautifully illuminated by the rising sun.
Our Airbnb during our visit to the Grand Canyon sat at the edge of an open grazing plain, and the evening light did not disappoint. As the sun dropped lower on the horizon, warm golden tones washed over the land, stretching long shadows across the grass and turning the sky into a soft gradient of color. It was the kind of quiet, unhurried moment that made simply standing outside and watching the light change feel like an experience in itself.
The Grand Canyon holds a strange place in my mind. Growing up immersed in books about the world’s natural wonders, the Canyon was one of the most prominent features, and as a result I largely knew what to expect during my 2016 road trip through the Southwest. Entering Zion or Arches National Parks, or Antelope Canyon, was a completely unexpected experience, whereas the vistas of the Grand Canyon were already firmly primed in my imagination.
Still, when we first entered the park and stood at the edge, one thing shocked me: how quiet and vast it really is. Standing atop the Canyon, there is very little for sound to bounce back from, creating an eerie sensation of profound silence. This, of course, changes once you venture down along the many trails.
We spent only two days exploring the Canyon, and I definitely hope to return one day to hike the Rim-to-Rim trail. On the second day I had great luck in the early morning hours. Arriving before sunrise, the Canyon was covered in clouds and dense fog with barely any visibility. As the sun slowly rose, the fog cleared, leaving scattered clouds and heavy moisture in the air, resulting in beautiful patches of rainbow arching over the magnificent vista.
My older kiddo (4 years old) had her second skiing lesson today at Snoqualmie West (shoutout to the amazing instructors with a great approach to young kids!). My skis were still in the shop since they needed some extra love after 5 years of neglect, so I was mostly on FaceTime catching up with family members. The weather was amazing, blue skies driving all the way to Snoqualmie. But unfortunately the ski area itself was fully covered by low clouds. Fortunately, towards the end of the 2h lesson, the sky did open up for a moment and gave me a glimpse of some beautiful views of the mountains across the road. Sorry for reduced quality, all shots are from iPhone 16 Pro
I have this personal gauge I use when exploring new cities, which is to experience the local zoo and see how from my very subjective point of view the animals are doing there. Whether they have space to roam and do their thing or are they just displays for humans.
Since we moved to the greater Seattle area, our family has been a huge fan of Woodland Park Zoo. Between all the zoos I have visited, it is the highest rated on my personal, subjective list (I didn't yet have a chance to travel to San Diego though). It is really a great park for families with kids to explore that also happens to host animals. Part that I really appreciate is that from my perspective, the animal spaces are built more for them than for us as spectators.
Recently, we did an evening visit with our 3 kids (ages 4, 2, 2) to see the local zoo lights exhibit, and it didn't disappoint. Our kiddos loved running through the zoo and being face to face with all of the light features throughout the path. Funny enough, the biggest hit was a simple wall of lights nearby the Pacific NW corner of the zoo.
Antelope Canyon may be one of the most unique places I had visited, instead of wide open vistas that you can experience in places like Zion, Grand Canyon etc. you're walking through a narrow and tall slot canyon created through millennia of erosion in beautiful red sandstone. It is also quite a surreal experience since while many people have seen the serene pictures popularized in the 90's and 2000's the actual experience is quite different as typically the canyon is full of guided groups, the guides do a great job though spacing them out, so that each group has a minute to capture couple pictures while the previous one hides around the next corner. Fortunately our minds are also great at filtering out the distractions like that in our memories, so the Canyon definitely lives in my mind just as it's seen here, serene and peaceful.
Horseshoe Bend is probably one of the most photographed spot in Arizona, yet that didn't reduce any of the joy I had capturing this image. We were on the road from Zion National Park towards the town of Page, AZ during a stormy evening. As we got to this famous landscape the sky opened up and clouds turned a marvelous pink and purple colors at sunset. Despite being surrounded by tens of other people my wife and I really enjoyed this serene moment.
Concluding my posts from Zion National Park is, of course, The Watchman viewed from Canyon Junction Bridge. A truly majestic view that will stay in my memory forever.
Zion National Park is the most awe inspiring place I have visited in the US so far. And hiking Angels Landing is one of the best place to experience it. Cannot wait to one day come back here with my 3 daughters and share the awe with them.
Starting the series with a refresh of my older pictures taken during various trips shortly after moving to US from Poland. The first one from Zion National Park and more specifically from a hike through Narrows which I also shared on Pixelfed
Since I originally posted these back in 2016 I had changed my processing flow, I moved from Adobe Creative Cloud suite oriented around Lightroom to instead lean on Photomator. I also focus more on achieving a consistent style between pictures and locations which in turn helped me streamline the flow as it is now oriented around small set of presets I developed over time.
More images from Zion National Park coming soon.