Joey Priola Wilderness Photography

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American West 115 images Created 29 Apr 2018

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  • Zion National Park’s Virgin River Narrows is regarded as one of the most fascinating and unique hikes in the world, and for good reason. Almost the entire hike is spent wading in the ankle to waist deep Virgin River, which at certain points is only about 10 feet wide, with the sheer walls of the canyon rising hundreds of feet above the river. One of the most fascinating things to me about the Narrows was the amount of life that is able to thrive in this cool and dark environment, which barely receives any direct sunlight due to the sheer height of the canyon walls. Pictured here is a lone cottonwood sapling that has managed to take root in a small alcove in the canyon wall. Zion National Park, Utah.
    Life Finds a Way
  • While driving back to the Sage Creek campground after photographing the sunset, I saw an elephant on the side of the road in the darkening twilight. Although I was pretty sure that there weren’t any wild elephants roaming the plains of South Dakota, the animal that I saw was so massive that “elephant” was the first explanation that popped into my head. I didn’t have time to contemplate any further, as up ahead more imposing figures began to take shape through the dusty night air. As I crept closer, I realized that these of course were not elephants, but rather a herd of approximately 100 buffalo. I parked in the middle of the road, turned off my car, stepped out, and listened to the buffalo run and play in the darkness. I couldn’t help but think that in days past, this unique and awe-inspiring experience that I was having would have been commonplace (if you were to trade my Civic for a horse), as the Plains were once filled with millions of buffalo. I eventually made it back to my campsite, and returned to the area the following morning, hoping to be lucky enough to photograph a similar experience. Fortunately, part of the herd from the previous night was still in the area. I was able to watch the sun rise with the buffalo, and captured this magical moment in the photograph you see here. Badlands National Park, South Dakota.
    Window to the Past
  • Mankind’s greatest discovery. That is how my friend, Evan and I often refer to fire when gathered around its warm, inviting glow while roaming the wild places of the world. While a campfire in the backcountry has always been an almost holy experience for us, we gained a deeper appreciation for the spiritual power of fire on this night. Watching the light from the flames ignite the alcove we were camping in with the most beautiful shades of orange and red, while our shadows danced on the sandstone walls, it became perfectly clear to me that I had never before felt so connected to early man. I could visualize our caveman predecessors having a night just as we were, reveling in the glory and mystery of fire, with no words spoken, because none needed to be. My friend’s shadow towering over him on the cave wall seemed as if it was an ancient ancestor watching over us, having come back to the cave where it once was captivated by the very flames that we will always look into with awe and wonderment.
    Primal Man
  • Crashing waves spray skyward at Cape Perpetua, Oregon, on a beautiful April evening.
    Boom
  • Starry skies over my tent along the beautiful coast of Washington's Olympic National Park.
    Spirit of Adventure
  • The sun rises over the distant plains, showcasing the surreal and colorful badlands of South Dakota's Badlands National Park.
    Magiclands
  • Mount Rainer towers above the clouds as seen from an airplane headed to Seattle. This is why I always choose a window seat when I fly!
    Ascension to the Sun
  • Shooting stars streak across the beautiful night sky, at the height of the Perseid meteor shower in August 2016. The otherworldly bentonite clay formations in the foreground were the perfect complement to the shooting stars and the colorful nebulae of the Milky Way galaxy. I stayed up all night watching hundreds of shooting stars streak across the sky, and this was undoubtedly one of my favorite and most memorable moments (and photographs) of a year-long cross country road trip. Cathedral Gorge State Park, Nevada.
    Cosmic Cathedral
  • Sunset light illuminates sea stacks and weathered rocks on the beach in Washington's Olympic National Park.
    A Moment in the Sun
  • A clutch of Rocky Mountain Columbines, a 13,000+ foot peak, and a high alpine lake combine to form the quintessential Colorado landscape. Mt. Sneffels Wilderness, Colorado.
    Colorado
  • An intimate view of a sea anemone I found in one of the many tide pools at Point of the Arches. The opportunity to view sea life such as sea anemones and starfish in a wilderness setting is one of the many reasons why the coast within Washington’s Olympic National Park is one of my favorite destinations for backpacking and photography.
    Medusa
  • Mount Rainier glows with brilliant sunset light and reflects in a calm backcountry tarn.
    Twice as Nice
  • Sunset light strikes the face of a massive sea stack along the Olympic Coast on a moody November evening, just steps away from one of my all-time favorite backcountry campsites. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    We Three Kings
  • The light of the setting sun strikes an Ancient Bristlecone Pine tree in California's White Mountains. The hardy, gnarled, and beautiful bristlecone pines found in the White Mountains are the oldest known living non-clonal trees in the world, with the oldest identified one being over 5,000 years old! To keep the tree safe, it's identity and exact location has not been disclosed. But with hundreds, maybe thousands, of bristlecone pines in this forest, chances are that there's one out there that's the oldest of them all, but it hasn't been identified yet. Knowing this makes hiking amongst these ancient wonders an even more exhilarating experience, as every tree passed could potentially be the oldest tree in the world :)
    Time to Shine
  • A sunflower sea star crawls along the sand in the shallow water of a coastal tide pool in the backcountry of Washington's Olympic National Park. Watching this sea star scuttle about was one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had in the wilderness, and I feel incredibly lucky to have had it. Beginning in 2013, the year that I took this photo, a mysterious sea star wasting disease coupled with rising ocean temperatures has virtually wiped the once prolific sunflower sea star out of existence on the North American West Coast.
    Ode to Ned
  • Quite possibly the most beautiful coastal sunset I’ve ever experienced, taken during one of my all-time favorite backpacking trips (20 miles along the rugged Olympic Coast from Rialto Beach to Ozette Lake). My numb legs from standing in the frigid winter surf to get this perspective were soothed by a driftwood beach fire and some family wine. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Gods of Olympus
  • After a day of backpacking through misty summer rain, the clouds cleared just in time to reveal the glaciated Mount Shuksan massif at sunset. Look closely and you'll see two tents (mine is the yellow one on the left) perched above Lake Ann, ready to spend the night camping in a mountain dream. Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, Washington.
    Camping in a Dream
  • Rippled sand leads towards a massive sea stack at Point of the Arches on Shi Shi Beach. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Sand Castles
  • The light of the setting sun strikes an Ancient Bristlecone Pine tree in California's White Mountains, highlighting the unique shape and form of these magnificent trees. The hardy, gnarled, and beautiful bristlecone pines found in the White Mountains are the oldest known living non-clonal trees in the world, with the oldest identified one being over 5,000 years old. To keep the tree safe, it's identity and exact location has not been disclosed. But with hundreds, maybe thousands, of bristlecone pines in this forest, chances are that there's one out there that's the oldest of them all, but it hasn't been identified yet. Knowing this makes hiking amongst these ancient wonders an even more exhilarating experience, as every tree passed could potentially be the oldest tree in the world.
    Timeless Tango
  • A rock and seaweed rest on the purple sands of California's Pfeiffer Beach. The unique purple sand at Pfeiffer Beach comes from manganese garnet found in the nearby hills, which gets washed down to the beach below. Big Sur, California.
    Psychedelic
  • A beautiful Nootka Rose in Washington's North Cascades.
    Renewal
  • When I close my eyes and daydream of past adventures, this is what I see - a beautiful sunset, wilderness all around, and an endless vista that beckons me to keep exploring. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Daydreams of my Youth
  • On our final day of a backpacking trip along the wilderness coast of Washington’s Olympic National Park, my friends and I ventured south from our camp at Point of the Arches. After climbing over rocky headlands and through pristine temperate rainforest high above the sea, we arrived at a deserted little cove between the headlands. At first this beach seemed just like all the others we had passed by, but upon closer inspection we discovered that the beach consisted of a seemingly infinite assortment of small, smooth pebbles of all different colors. We spent the afternoon lounging in the sunbaked pebbles, and exploring the intricacies of a world that often goes undetected. I used a shallow depth of field here to create an abstract expression of the pebbles, with only a slice being in focus and the rest fading into featureless colors and patterns.
    Pebble Feel
  • Steam mingles with a geyser cone in Shoshone Geyser Basin on a chilly October morning, during an unforgettable 50 mile backpacking trip in Yellowstone National Park.
    Out of the Blue
  • An iconic Pacific Northwest scene of Punchbowl Falls pouring into a rocky grotto lined with vibrant green mosses and ferns. While inspiring landscapes such as this often seem like permanent fixtures, statues sculpted from the most impervious stone imaginable, we are sometimes reminded just how fragile the Earth is. Due to the careless acts of a group of teenagers, who thoughtlessly tossed firecrackers into Eagle Creek Canyon, the Eagle Creek Wildfire of 2017 ravaged the canyon in which Punchbowl Falls resides, and the full impact of the damage remains to be seen.
    Fragility
  • Balsamroot flowers in Washington's Cascades take in a beautiful view of Mt. Stuart off in the distance.
    True to Your Roots
  • Receding waves rush back out to sea at Ruby Beach, as a lone sea stack looks towards the pastel twilight sky. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Sunken Wizard
  • A lone sea lion calls out to his companions, as waves crash on the black volcanic rocks of the Oregon Coast. Cape Perpetua, Oregon.
    Calling Out
  • Waves crash in a chasm in the volcanic rock at Cape Perpetua, Oregon, on a beautiful spring evening. When the waves crash just right, a plume of spray gets shot up through a hole in the rock, as seen in the top center of this photo, and is affectionately known as "spouting horn".
    Sound the Horn
  • Yours truly, greeting the start of another beautiful day at remote and deserted Iceberg Lake. Taken partway through a solo 9 day backpacking adventure in California’s Ansel Adams Wilderness.
    Strength Through Solitude
  • A collection of colorful pebbles, rounded over time by the action of waves, that I found one morning while exploring the coast near my backcountry campsite. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Pebble Treasure
  • Formed nearly 2000 years ago from lava streaming down the southern flank of Mount St. Helens, Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the continental US, at 2.5 miles long. Hiking the cave is truly a unique experience. The temperature stays at a constant 42 degrees F, and despite the total darkness, “cave slime” bacteria is able to thrive, and coats the walls of the caves. I used my headlamp to illuminate the twisting passageway of the cave in this photo, and the silver-green color of the walls and “roof” of the cave is actually the aforementioned “cave slime”. Ape Cave, Gifford Pinchot National Forest, Washington.
    Planet of the Apes
  • A hardy tree that has somehow managed to grow from the top of a sea stack at Point of the Arches takes in a fantastic November sunrise. Shi Shi Beach, Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Roots
  • Low tide at Point of the Arches reveals a tide pool filled with colorful starfish and sea anemones. The opportunity to view sea life such as sea anemones and starfish in a wilderness setting is one of the many reasons why the coast within Washington’s Olympic National Park is one of my favorite destinations for backpacking and photography.
    Vibrancy
  • The post-sunset glow illuminates the ripples of Cedar Creek as it flows towards the Pacific Ocean. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Dragon Scales
  • A wave crashes against volcanic rock at Cape Perpetua and sprays skyward at sunset.
    Reach For The Sky
  • A beautiful winter sunset along the dramatic coast at Rialto Beach. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Fireworks
  • Stars shine over offshore sea stacks on a remote section of coastline in Washington's Olympic National Park. In November of 1920, the Chilean schooner W.J. Pirrie was being towed towards the Washington shores when a brutal storm hit the pair of ships, forcing the towing vessel to abandon the Pirrie. The ship was no match for the tempest, and 18 of the 20 crew members were killed. Their bodies washed up on the very beach where this photo was taken, and if you search in the woods behind the beach, you'll find a plaque memorial for the victims.
    Spirits In the Night
  • Two starfish cling to the rocks and each other as they wait for the tide to come in again. Olympic National park, Washington.
    Holding On
  • Sunlight brings out the brilliant cerulean color of Lower Blue Lake, nestled in Colorado's rugged and wild San Juan Mountains. The milky-turquoise color of the lake is caused by the presence of rock flour, finely-ground particles of rock formed by glacial erosion, in the lake. These rock particles become suspended in the water, giving the lake its vivid color when light hits the water.
    Alpine Jewel
  • For one reason or another, it’s just hard to crawl out of bed on some mornings. Or, in the case of the morning this photo was taken, a sleeping bag. It was a damp and chilly dawn on the Washington coast, and I was still feeling weak from a bad stomach bug I’d suffered through the previous week. The thought of rolling over and burrowing deeper into my sleeping bag seemed heavenly, but I knew that I hadn’t traveled here to sleep. I can’t recall when it first happened, but on mornings like this throughout my travels, where the pull of the warmth and comfort of my tent seemed to be stronger than my desire to get out for sunrise, I had begun to recite a mantra of sorts in my head: “if you don’t go, you won’t know.” Maybe the sunrise would be a dud, but if I didn’t get out there to see for myself, I would never know what possibilities I might miss out on. So on this morning, I extracted myself from my cocoon of warmth and comfort, slipped into wet boots and dirty clothes, and struck out for the beach. On summer weekends, Shi Shi Beach can often be lined with hundreds of tents, but on this soggy November morning, the only creatures I shared the beach with were seagulls looking for breakfast. As I wandered about in the dim light of dawn, I could see a faint glow building in the sky to the east, over the forested slopes of the OIympic Peninsula. As the glow intensified, I settled on a composition, and all of a sudden the sky erupted into possibly the most vivid and colorful sunrise that I’ve ever seen. After the show was over, I wandered up and down the beach, admiring the patterns in the sand, the piles of driftwood, and the ceaseless sound of waves heaving against the shore. Eventually I made my way back to my tent, where I joyfully slipped back into my sleeping bag, fully at peace with what I now knew, after I had gone.
    If You Don't Go, You Won't Know
  • A colorful starfish rests on the rocky coastline amongst the towering sea stacks at Point of the Arches on Shi Shi Beach. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Son of Shi Shi
  • The motion of rushing waves seems to mimic the curve of the clouds, during a phenomenal sunset along a deserted stretch of coastline in Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Sunset Swirl
  • Receding waves, caught by pebbles on Kalaloch Beach, streak back towards the sea during a beautiful winter sunrise. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Return to Me
  • A rocky headland draped with wildflowers and moss near Cape Perpetua, Oregon extends out into the mighty Pacific. Look closely and you'll see some cormorants perched atop the headland.
    Safety in a Dangerous World
  • Red volcanic rock adds a splash of color to the soaring granite cliffs that line the beautiful and wild Tuolumne River, in the backcountry of California's Yosemite National Park.
    Watercolor
  • After a full day of kayaking along the west side of Washington's San Juan Island, my stomach was telling me it was time for a well-deserved burger and beer. Thankfully, something else inside me said that I would regret not heading out to Lime Kiln Lighthouse to watch the sunset as I had originally planned. I got to the lighthouse just in time, and found this spot along the shore where the crashing surf rose and fell. The clouds lifted just enough for the sun to light up the sky with a sunset so good that I forgot all about the burger and beer.
    The Key For Every Door
  • A tangle of kelp rests on Shi Shi Beach at sunset, in the shadow of a large sea stack. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Castles and Kelp
  • As a teenager obsessed with running track and cross country, Steve Prefontaine was my idol. Hailing from the sleepy lumber town of Coos Bay, Oregon, “Pre” turned the running world on its head with his bravado and quotes like ” to give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift” until he met his untimely end in 1975 at the age of 24. While it’s been years since I ran my last race, my admiration for Pre lives on. It thus seems fitting that during my post-grad school road trip I was lifted out of the deepest loneliness of my journey while in Coos Bay. <br />
Far from home and feeling lonelier than I ever thought possible, I aimlessly drove the backroads of Central Oregon until I found myself at the coast. After spending a restless night at a deserted campground in Newport, I awoke the next morning to find myself covered in poison oak. Barely able to open my eyes, I headed to the nearest urgent care, which happened to be just up the road in Coos Bay. After getting some meds and pondering my next move, not wanting to return to the suffocating loneliness that was waiting for me back at my campsite, I happened to see a flyer advertising the Prefontaine Memorial Gallery, an exhibit devoted to Steve Prefontaine. I immediately drove over and headed up to the gallery, and was in awe at what I found. The room was filled with countless trophies and medals that Pre had won, and even had some spikes that he had raced in. I spent most of the afternoon poring over each medal, marveling at how this man had made the most of his all too brief life.  By the time I was done in the gallery, I had a renewed vigor and zest for life, and drove back to my campsite eager to explore the very dunes that Pre himself used to train on. Because to give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift, and this trip, I realized, was a gift that I just couldn’t sacrifice.
    The Gift
  • A soft pastel sunrise illuminates the sky and ocean surrounding Heceta Head Lighthouse on the Oregon coast.
    Beacon
  • An abstract rendition of ocean waves, created by moving my camera from side to side during the exposure. Kalaloch Beach, Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Sea Dreams
  • If there’s one thing that a year on the road taught me, it’s to expect the unexpected. Whether it’s meeting a person that changes everything, a mouse deciding that your car would make a nice apartment, or a flat tire at the most inopportune time, even the most thought-out plans have a way of unraveling when living out of a car and a backpack. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. While at times these roadblocks and detours could certainly be frustrating, I found that it was often the unexpected, unplanned moments that filled me with the greatest sense of awe and wonder. I was reminded of this at the start of the second part of my trip, where Badlands National Park was one of my first stops. The idea of stopping at the park had only been formed earlier in the day, while looking at a map of Iowa and the surrounding states that was outside of the bathroom at a campground that I had stayed at. The red line that designated I-90 drove right past the Badlands, and since wildfires in Wyoming had dashed my original plans, I already had an open itinerary. After I entered the park and reached a high point on the road, the rippled, barren badlands reached out towards the seemingly endless plain, forming a surreal landscape unlike anything I had ever seen before. What I hadn’t noticed earlier, but was now very clear, was that a vicious storm was forming on the horizon. I grabbed my camera and watched and photographed the storm from a cliff edge; an unforgettable and entirely unexpected experience. Afterwards, I couldn’t help but think about the circumstances that led me to witness what I had just seen. How if it weren’t for a wildfire in Wyoming and a map on a bathroom wall, I wouldn’t be right here, right now. As I smiled at these thoughts and slowly rolled down the gravel road with some Allman Brothers on the radio, the clouds over the prairie ahead began to clear, and a rainbow touched down on the timeless, golden plains of South Dakota.
    Strike Twice
  • A giant fallen tree adorned with moss slowly decays and gives life to the forest that it once towered over. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Giving Back
  • Clouds and the sea glow with beautiful light and colors after a phenomenal sunset. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Afterglow
  • Sea foam and pebbles on Kalaloch Beach. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Fingers Through Your Hair
  • Pink Monkeyflower lines a creek in Mount Rainier National Park.
    Our Only Plan Is To Improvise
  • Sol Duc Falls surrounded by fresh spring greens. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Sol Duc Serenity
  • Starfish, sea anemones, and kelp adorn the rugged coastline at Point of the Arches on Shi Shi Beach. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Mysterious Dawn
  • Surf pours down a hole in the shelf of volcanic rock at Cape Perpetua known as “Thor’s Well” while in the background the next wave rolls in. Getting to this vantage point requires good timing and steady nerves, as approaching the Well at higher tides is more or less a suicide mission, and even at lower tides rogue waves can pose a real danger. On the last morning that I camped in the area, the low tide coincided with sunrise, and I lucked out with some beautiful light. Watching the waves crash and then spill down while standing only a few feet away was an exhilarating and memorable experience.
    Go Ask Alice
  • While backpacking up to Marmot Pass and Buckhorn Mountain, a break in the clouds and forest perfectly framed the aptly named Mount Mystery. Buckhorn Wilderness, Washington.
    Breakout
  • Tenacious pink wildflowers (Mountain Pride, I believe) sprout from a crevice in the rock below a granite dome at sunset, in the beautiful backcountry of Yosemite National Park.
    Tenacity
  • The most important lesson I learned while in San Francisco for a work conference was that when the rental car salesman offers to upgrade you from the cheap compact car that you had pre-booked to a Mustang convertible for just 60 bucks, you say yes. While my pre-conference backpacking trip along the wild and crystalline waters of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park was surely a highlight of my trip to California, it was the journey to and from the trailhead in my trusty ‘Stang that is most etched in my memory. Ever since I had my first car, a piece of shit Saturn station wagon that crapped out after only 40,000 miles, I’ve been obsessed with the intoxicating feeling of absolute freedom and adventure that a full tank of gas and an open mind can provide. After finishing grad school and taking a year off to road trip throughout the American West and British Columbia, I thought that I had experienced pretty much everything that the open road had to offer. But as I bombed down 395 with the evening sun glistening off Mono Lake and the sweet smell of sage washing over me, topping 100 with the first 55 seconds of Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” blasting on loop and flipping the bird to every “speed monitored by aircraft” sign that I blew by, I realized that even after all the past trips and miles, the road still had undiscovered secrets to offer. That no matter how many places you’ve been and blank spaces on the map you’ve explored, the open road will always lead you to exactly where you need to be. As I approached my campsite for the night and the sky began to fade from blue to orange to purple, I chuckled as I thought to myself about how the idiom “my way or the highway” is all wrong. There is no choice to be made, after all, because as long as I’m able to climb into a car and press my forefoot on the accelerator, my way IS the highway.
    My Way is the Highway
  • The jagged spires of the Minarets  rise above the aquamarine waters of Iceberg Lake on a beautiful summer morning deep in California's Ansel Adams Wilderness.
    Transparency
  • After briefly getting disoriented on the seemingly endless expanse of slickrock en route to Coyote Gulch, my friend and I finally reached the canyon rim at Crack in the Wall, and were greeted by a spectacular vista, a rainbow, and ominous storm clouds.  After squeezing our way through Crack in the Wall, we high-tailed it down into the Gulch, and were able to seek shelter before the skies opened up with one of the most memorable and intense storms of my life. Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, Utah.
    Lucky
  • Pelicans and cormorants soar over, and cling to, a gigantic sea stack near False Klamath Cove at sunset. Redwoods National Park, California.
    Chaos Theory
  • Stars and the Milky Way streak through the night sky above Iceberg Lake and the Minarets, deep in the High Sierra. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.
    Meditations
  • After an evening thunderstorm passed through, a sublime scene unfolded at Ediza Lake. Beams of light shot up through the sky behind Banner Peak and Mount Ritter, bathing the clouds and lake in a warm glow. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.
    Revelation
  • Rapids of the Tuolumne River sparkle like gold at sunset, in the backcountry of California's Yosemite National Park.
    Gold Rush
  • Waves crash and spray in a rocky chasm at Pfeiffer Beach. Big Sur, California.
    Power
  • A flowering bloodroot plant at the edge of a canyon watches the setting sun bring the South Dakota sky and badlands to life. Badlands National Park, South Dakota.
    Out From the Shadows
  • The Milky Way galaxy shines in the night sky above the jagged Minarets, as seen from the fractured granite bedrock at Iceberg Lake. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.
    Runway to the Galaxy
  • A mountain goat strikes a pose high in the Olympic Mountains on a beautiful summer morning. Mountain goats shed their winter fur every summer, which explains this mountain goat's rather scraggly appearance. Olympic National Park, Washington.
    Keeper of the Mountains
  • An intimate view of Rubber Rabbitbrush flowers in the White Mountains of California.
    Down the Rabbit Hole
  • A granite dome rises up from an amphitheater of polished rock and basks in the twilight glow as the first stars begin to twinkle in the warm summer sky. Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne, Yosemite National Park, California.
    Granite Kingdom
  • A peaceful summer sunset along the rugged coast near False Klamath Cove. Redwoods National Park, California.
    Dino Eggs
  • A young moose enjoys some lunch near Cascade Creek in Grand Teton National Park.
    Eat Your Veggies
  • LeConte Falls of the Tuolumne River cascades down the granite bedrock of Yosemite National Park on a clear evening in June. Yosemite National Park, California.
    Slip 'N Slide
  • Massive and striking Banner Peak glows with the first light of the day, and towers over Garnet Lake and one of its many islands. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.
    In the Shadow of Giants (color version)
  • Steam rises from the impossibly blue Rosette Spring, on a frosty October morning in the Shoshone Geyser Basin. Almost ten miles from the nearest road, the Shoshone Geyser Basin lacks the crowds and boardwalks of more popular and easily-accessible thermal areas in Yellowstone National Park, allowing visitors to fully appreciate the splendor of Yellowstone. At sunrise, when rising steam catches the morning light and the only sound is the gurgle of the geysers and hot springs, it's not hard to imagine yourself as the first person to ever lay eyes on the Shoshone Geyser Basin. Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming.
    Eye of the Earth
  • The setting sun illuminates the beautiful rocky shore at California’s Montaña de Oro State Park. Millions of years ago, the sedimentary rock of the Montana de Oro coast was an ancient sea floor. When tiny fragments of once-living organisms drifted to the bottom of the sea, they mixed with silt and sand, forming mudstone over time. The mud then solidified into thick layers of sedimentary rock, and now forms the rocky, striated coast at Montaña de Oro.
    Web Gem
  • The light of the setting sun strikes an Ancient Bristlecone Pine tree in California's White Mountains. The hardy, gnarled, and beautiful bristlecone pines found in the White Mountains are the oldest known living non-clonal trees in the world, with the oldest identified one being over 5,000 years old! To keep the tree safe, it's identity and exact location has not been disclosed. But with hundreds, maybe thousands, of bristlecone pines in this forest, chances are that there's one out there that's the oldest of them all, but it hasn't been identified yet. Knowing this makes hiking among these ancient wonders an even more exhilarating experience, as every tree passed could potentially be the oldest tree in the world.
    Secrecy
  • An abstract composition of cracked granite rock and its reflection in a perfectly calm Iceberg Lake. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.
    Time to Reflect
  • On any visit, it doesn’t take long to realize that Yellowstone National Park is a special place. With a concentration of wildlife and geothermal activity unseen anywhere else in the world, once-in-a-lifetime experiences occur daily when visiting the park. But with increased visitation, cell phone hot spots, and selfie stick-toting tourists cramming the boardwalks at places such as Old Faithful and Morning Glory Pool, it can be difficult to experience the “real” Yellowstone. Fortunately, the raw, remote, and sometimes savage beauty of Yellowstone is still there for those willing to put in the work required to see it. My friend and I found the real Yellowstone while on a 50 mile backpacking trip in October. We clambered over snowy mountain passes, hiked through rain, sleet, snow, mud, and brilliant sunshine, saw wolf and grizzly tracks, and soaked au naturel in hot springs almost 20 miles from the nearest road. Perhaps the most memorable moment of the trip, though, was watching and photographing the final sunrise of our journey from the shores of Shoshone Lake (the largest backcountry lake in the lower 48 states that can’t be reached by a road), deserted save for the two lakeside geysers that are steaming and sputtering in this photograph. Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming.
    Life on Mars
  • The hardy, gnarled, and beautiful bristlecone pines found in the White Mountains of California are the oldest known living non-clonal trees in the world, with the oldest identified one being over 5,000 years old. Over the course of a week of exploring the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, I found myself returning time and again to this one particular tree. I was fascinated by  its twisting, barkless limbs, and the fact that only a small portion of the tree was still technically alive. You don't live for thousands of years without being a master of survival, and one of the ways in which these trees are able to live so long is their sectored architecture. Each root section feeds only the part of the tree directly above it, and as one root dies off due to exposure through soil erosion, only the sector of tree above that root dies. In the tree shown in this photograph, the right side has succumbed to exposure and erosion, while the upper left reaches are still clinging to life. On one of the last mornings of my visit, I was  able to capture this tree under a sky filled with surreal clouds shortly after sunrise, which felt like the perfect complement to the otherworldly shape and longevity of the ancient bristlecones.
    Father Time
  • The Bristlecone Pine trees found in California's White Mountains, home of the oldest known living tree in the world at over 5,000 years, are masters of survival. The colorful trunk of this particular tree managed to wrap itself around a pile of rocks, while still continuing to grow.
    Hourglass
  • Nature can often be a source of quietude and peaceful serenity, but sometimes its raw and savage power is vividly on display. On days such as this one at Nevada’s Great Basin National Park, she displays both personalities. After spending the morning lounging in my hammock, adjusting to the 10,000 foot altitude and relaxing after the previous day’s 15 hour drive from Badlands National Park, I shouldered my pack to hike up towards some high alpine lakes for sunset. As I was about to leave my campsite, a ranger came up to tell me that they were evacuating the campground, due to a wildfire in the area. I thought he was joking at first, since it was a pristine summer day. He was serious, though, and just like that, my plans changed. I tore down my tent and began the winding drive down the shoulder of Wheeler Peak, thinking about where I would sleep that night and where my next destination would be. Distracted by these thoughts, I had almost forgotten the reason I had to leave the campground. That is, until the road broke free from the forest and I saw a scene unfold before me unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Gigantic clouds of smoke rose from the forested mountainside, glowing orange from the flames below and the sun above. The otherwise cloudless blue sky was barely visible. The power and indifference of the fire was overwhelming, and although I knew I needed to get the hell out of there, I just couldn’t look away. I eventually ran back to my car, and began the white-knuckle drive down the mountain, keeping one eye on the fire and one on the twisting road.  After such an exhilarating experience, the answer to the question “where to next?” was now abundantly clear – nowhere but here. This photo is my favorite from the three days I spent photographing the fire, and was captured at twilight on the first night of the fire when billowing clouds of smoke invaded the night sky and the moon hung over Wheeler Peak and silently watched the mountainsides burn.
    Luna & Lucifer
  • The rocky orange shoreline at California's Salt Point State Park was the perfect complement to the dark blue sea on this cloudy evening. Once an ancient sea bed that was uplifted to the surface, the sedimentary rock that forms the shore at Salt Point has been weathered into all kinds of beautiful shapes and colors. While it's hard to imagine today, rock from the shoreline at Salt Point was harvested in the 1800s and used  to construct some of the earliest city streets in San Francisco.
    Risen
  • An iconic California view of Bixby Creek Bridge spanning Bixby Canyon along the incomparable Big Sur coast.
    Passage to Summer
  • The gnarled and beautiful limbs of an Ancient Bristlecone Pine catch the evening light. The Ancient Bristlecone Pine forest in the White Mountains of California, where this photograph was taken, is home to the oldest known living tree in the world - a Bristlecone Pine that is over 5,000 years old!
    Twists of Time
  • The Minarets reflect in Iceberg Lake shortly after sunrise, on a calm morning deep in California's Ansel Adams Wilderness.
    Psychoanalysis
  • Waves crash through the keyhole arch at Pfeiffer Beach after sunset. Big Sur, California.
    Persistence
  • Waves lap at the purple sand of Pfeiffer Beach on a beautiful June evening. The unique purple sand found at Pfeiffer Beach comes from manganese garnet found in the hills above the beach, which gets washed down to the beach below. Big Sur, California.
    Getaway
  • Elephant seals snuggle up on the beach in Piedras Blancas State Marine Reserve and Marine Conservation Area.
    Snuggle Time
  • A trio of bighorn sheep roam below towering red badlands. Badlands National Park, South Dakota.
    Bighorns & Badlands
  • Lush, mineral-rich mountainsides filled with wildflowers and cascading streams above a bright blue alpine lake give this scene from Colorado a decidedly tropical feel.
    Tropics in the Rockies
  • Low-angled sunset light brings out the colors and details of the rippled Badlands of South Dakota.
    Orange Matter
  • Steam eerily rises from one of the most bizarre and beautiful thermal features that I’ve ever seen, which can be found along the Ferris Fork in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park.
    Not of This World
  • The shapes and colors of the South Dakota Badlands often reminded me of the fanciful landscapes created by Dr. Seuss. Badlands National Park, South Dakota.
    Seusslands
  • A small, flowering plant sprouts from the arid cracked mud of the South Dakota Badlands.
    Positivity
  • A young, wild colt rests in the grasses of Theodore Roosevelt National Park on a lazy summer evening.
    And the Livin's Easy
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