night photography

Dally Chronicles by Rhys Logan

Meet the Methow by Rhys Logan

I try and convince myself every summer, that it won't be as crazy as the last. But honestly deep down inside I'd most likely be really pretty disappointed if it wasn't. I have loved every second of the craziness, and whether that love has been learned through forced or required acceptance or just self fulfilling prophecy, I suppose I don't really know. But I do know that every doubt I have of whether to take on a project, every time I push myself a little harder, a little further, every time I stay up a little later, do something that at the time seems to make less and less sense, or commit to something that may not go exactly as planned or take off on a hair-brained adventure,

I have never regretted it.

To go out and do is to remove all questions of how, and what if, and who else.

The sun, the heat, the driving, the adventures, the unknown, the people, the driving, the fear, the excitement, 'the shot,' the driving, the adrenaline and yes, the driving, are all part of the journey that I choose daily and it leads me to see and experience things I never thought I would stand before and take in and wonder how exactly in that moment I had gotten there. But the answer to that has always been that I didn't myself talk me out of it. 

So go out and do! You may always be surprised where you are led to, but in wondering why you got there, I hope that is done out of wonder inspiration, not fear or frustration. 

Wow, now philosophical musings aside, me and Trav hit up the Methow months and it was amazing.  A beautiful river valley reminiscent of Montana's arid landscape and beautiful river runs, with the cascades over looking, trout every cast and more velveted bucks than we could keep track of had us telling ourselves we could just make camp in that place for the rest of our lives rather than just the rest of the weekend. Finished by the phenomenon of the Supermoon and I'd say my notions that these things were the signs of an epic summer to come were not far off.

 thank you for looking

check the whole gallery HERE


Lost Lake by Rhys Logan

The lake of my youth remains lost.  My favorite place to be growing up, was the tiniest alpine lake in northeast Washington called Lost Lake.  Rumored as one of only two nesting sites in the entire state for the Great Northern Loon, Lost Lake has always held amazing wonders for me.  With awesome wildlife, good fishing, a sweet dock and surrounded by old growth forests, returning there after almost 10 years was really pretty sentimental.  The fact that it was also during the height of the Perseid's Meteor shower didn't hurt either.

Here's to making summer last, and reliving old summers passed.

thanks for looking


The town I grew up in.. by Rhys Logan

Seeing a place with new eyes is something I believe everyone strives for.  Every day we revisit the spaces in our lives, whether concious or not, because we want to.  The space in my life lately, has been the home I grew up in, the town I spent my childhood in, and the place I have been familiar with since I was 8 years old.  It is very different now, only in the sense that I see it differently.  As with many childhood memories, things are not as big as they once seemed, distances are not so far as they once felt, but every bit or marvel still lies within them, if only because I remember them being so.  When you are young you see everything for how spectacular it is; you take what you have and make it great.  Not because you aren't satisfied with the way it is, but just because you can make that way.

Here's to never growing up.


All of these pictures were taken within a quarter-mile of eachother, which coincidentally are also all about a quarter-mile from my house.