Because of my RV, I never have to stop taking photographs.

Jason’s Photo Journal

On a ski circumnavigation of Glacier Peak (the most remote volcano in the Cascade Mountains), I watched the sunset bloom on Kennedy Peak after it was shrouded by rain and clouds for days.

The slopes of Mount Baker get the most recorded snow of any resort in the world. A sliver of glacier shines with sunlight ahead of an all-too-common storm.

A skier makes a track across a canvas of snow on his way back home. Mount Baker Wilderness, Washington.

High on Mount Baker, a snowboarder carves through new snow that has been rippled by wind. The sunset stretches across the horizon and the Puget Sound. Mount Baker Wilderness, Washington.

A collection of clouds, gray shadows, and bright whites mix with the bend and sway of mountain slopes. Mount Baker Wilderness, Washington.

Mount Rainier’s Willis Wall is viewable from Seattle, but few visit it six months out of the year. During that time, it becomes a kingdom of one, and the treasures rewarded are immense and powerful. The avalanche that dashes itself on the Carbon Glacier (the biggest glacier in contiguous U.S.) is just one example.

Jason’s Favorite Vantage Points

The locations that call to me are a mixture of those known and unknown. Normally, I have a destination in mind, but on the road, I prefer to let the winds of whim and chance pull me toward the familiar or new horizons. That being said, there are those favorite locations that have, more often than not, guaranteed delivery of “awesome” time and again.


Year after year, I find myself there. The reason is simple: You can do everything. Plainly, though, I’m a sucker for summer. So much of my year is spent skiing (I’ve skied 20 years, every month of the year now) that an extension to those warm lucid days full of swimming, biking, hiking, etc., isn’t to be ignored.


Otherwise known as the North Cascades Highway, it bisects the Cascade Range and is Washington State’s northernmost pass. Come opening, usually in late April, hundreds of skiers flock there. They camp in tents, in cars, in motorhomes and travel trailers, in whatever can house them on the side of the road. Each morning, there’s a migration to the mountains – and an “afterward congregation around fires and with food.


The best places are those where I wake to quiet that only comes on the heels of a mighty storm. Even before hot water is on, I open the RV door. If it pushes aside a few feet of snow, I know it’s to be a great day! Tea and dreams of skiing soon fill my head with flashes of powder. That whirlwind is only abbreviated by clicks of my camera.

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