2025 Reflection: 8 Hard Truths I’ve Learned About Landscape Photography

As the year comes to a close, reflection feels unavoidable. 2025 was busy, filled with travel, learning, and more time behind the camera than I could have hoped for. I photographed places like Rocky Mountain National Park, Hawaii, San Francisco, Norway, the San Juan mountains of Colorado, New York / New England, and Las Vegas.  I came home with images I’m proud of, a deeper appreciation for the craft, and a lot of gratitude for the experiences themselves. That said, growth rarely comes without difficulty. Along the way, I also ran headfirst into a number of challenges that forced me to rethink how I approach landscape photography.

People often assume that landscape photography is a peaceful experience. Long walks in nature, a little scenery, maybe a sunrise if you’re feeling ambitious. And sure, sometimes it is. But most of the time, it’s an ongoing battle with weather, light, physics, sleep deprivation, and your own questionable decision-making.

And I say this as someone who genuinely loves doing it.  

Now that I've had time to reflect on the year that was, these are eight hard truths the past year has made clear.

The Cold, the Early Mornings, and the Moments That Test Your Sanity

My Rocky Mountain National Park winter shoot was the kind of cold that makes you reconsider all your life choices. Single-digit highs, –15°F lows, and wind that felt personal. I’d wake up at 4:30 AM, put on every layer I owned, and still lose feeling in my toes.

But then we hiked out to Dream Lake in a heavy snow storm, stood in that quiet, frozen air, and I thought, yeah… this is still worth it.  Not that I got any shots that were worth anything, but the experience of just being there was enough.

Even if my camera battery and feet disagreed.

Weather Does Whatever It Wants

San Francisco gave me the opposite problem: fog so thick it felt like we were photographing inside a Tupperware container. We’d set up for Golden Gate shots only to see the bridge completely disappear, then reappear for five seconds, then vanish again. Grr...

One morning I managed a single decent frame during a tiny gap in the fog. Two days later the sky was crystal clear, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. It’s humbling (and slightly infuriating).  I'm just thankful we had time to go back because the view was pretty spectacular.

Gear Problems (a.k.a. The Part No One Warns You About)

My personal record for “rookie mistake under pressure” is leaving my spare battery in the hotel on the last morning in RMNP after forgetting to charge the main one the night before. I spent sunrise shooting out of the backseat of the car with the camera plugged into a USB cable like some sort of emergency life-support system.  It didn’t work so well, but at least it was slightly warmer in the car compared to outside.  I think the rest of our group was a bit jealous actually.

Second place goes to wearing jeans and sneakers to Baker Beach in San Francisco. A rogue wave soaked me to mid-thigh as I walked along the beach scouting compositions. Jeans and sneakers are basically sponges. Learn from me.

The Hike You Think Will Be Fun

During my Norway cruise, I did a Langfoss waterfall hike with my full kit, including a big tripod, all the lenses, everything. It ended up being the hardest hike I’ve ever done. When we finally reached the top, surrounded by dozens of tourists and given maybe ten minutes to shoot, I just had to laugh. It was one of those “I’m definitely earning these photos” days.  The sad news?  None of the photos turned out any good anyway.  At least I got some exercise though!

Composition, Crowds, and All the Tiny Things That Drive You Nuts

People walking into your frame? Check.
Random objects ruining otherwise perfect scenes? Absolutely.

Sometimes you find the perfect location… until you notice that one stray tree branch or rock that throws the entire composition off. You fix it, shift two inches to the right, then the light changes, and suddenly the magic is gone.

Landscape photography is 30% creativity, 70% problem-solving.

The Things You Do for the Shot

During my Hawaii shoot, we routinely shot waves cascading over lava rocks. At one point, I found this little “cauldron” formation in the rocks, which I thought made for some perfect foreground interest. The problem? Getting the tripod in place required me to lower myself into the cauldron and wedge the tripod legs into slippery, underwater boulders.

One leg was basically horizontal. Two were barely hanging on. I sat there gripping the whole setup for 45 minutes, fully aware that one big wave would take us both out.  Thankfully the wave I needed arrived before the wave that would have destroyed my gear.

The Little Things That Wear You Down

By day four of a workshop (especially in places like Telluride, where every location seems to require a two-hour drive over bone-rattling bumpy roads), you start fantasizing about sleeping in and forgetting the whole thing. I never actually skip a shoot, because I’d never forgive myself, but the temptation is definitely there.

And then, of course, the exhaustion disappears the moment the light hits just right.

Editing: The Part No One Talks About Enough

For me, the hardest part of editing isn’t deciding how far to push a photo, it’s trying to do justice to the moments that produced them. I’m not trying to create something unreal, I’m trying to bring back the feeling of standing there.

But then I take a shot, do a quick edit in the hotel room, send it to family or friends, and they respond, “Wow, that’s gorgeous!”  Those moments keep me going.

The Payoff

Every so often, everything just works.  The light, the weather, the composition, the effort. In Ridgway, I saw the most incredible aspenglow I’ve ever witnessed. The mountains turned bright pink. People were literally cheering. Photographers were running back to their tripods.

That shot is one of my favorites I’ve ever taken. And it made every cold morning, every failed attempt, every soaked pair of jeans feel absolutely worth it.

So… Why Do We Do This?

Landscape photography asks a lot. It pushes your patience, your knees, your gear, and your willingness to wake up before the rest of the world. But it also gives you rare, fleeting, unforgettable moments, and those make you feel small in the best way.

It keeps you humble. It keeps you curious. It keeps you hopeful.

And honestly? That’s the whole point.

Thank you for being here and for your support throughout the year. I hope you’re enjoying the holiday season and wish you a happy, healthy, and inspiring new year.