Week 2: Why Alaska?
Seen in My Lens: Alaska — Week 2
People often ask me, “Why Alaska?”
It began with a conversation that felt meant to be. A new client—an accomplished photographer in her own right—came into my life and quickly became a friend, one whose joy for photography and travel was contagious. She told me about a photography tour heading north, to a place where brown bears roam the coastline, and there happened to be one open spot left. Something in the way she said it made me feel like it was meant for me.
Before I ever set foot in Alaska, we spent time photographing birds together in Marin. She even lent me a couple of specialized pieces of wildlife gear for the trip. Looking back, her encouragement was the spark that nudged me toward a dream I’d quietly held for years.
One of my early frames from photographing wildlife closer to home — a reminder of how movement and light first drew me in.
Most of my life behind the camera has been spent close to home—families under California skies, children chasing light across the sand, grandparents pulling everyone in for one more photo. I’ve loved every bit of it: the laughter, the tenderness, the joy of belonging.
Connection has always been at the heart of my work — families, generations, moments that belong together.
Whether it’s families at home or bears in the wild, I’m drawn to the same thing — connection.
But for years, another dream had been tugging at me. I wanted to photograph wildlife in their world—to be out there watching, learning, and trying to capture those natural moments of connection that happen when you’re patient enough to wait. It wasn’t about leaving my portrait work behind; it was about expanding what I love most—observing life as it truly is.
When the chance to photograph in Alaska came along, it felt like the door to that dream had finally opened. I joined a small group of photographers, all there for the same reason—to learn, to watch, and to see what the wild might teach us.
Even among strangers, connection forms quickly out here — walking together across the shining flats, all of us drawn by the same hope to learn from the wild.
Alaska was everything I hoped for and more: wide, unpredictable skies, weather rolling in from miles away, and bears moving calmly through meadows like they’d been doing it forever. The light changed minute by minute, teaching patience in the most beautiful way.
This trip was a whole different experience for me as a photographer. There were no family wardrobes to coordinate, no golden-hour appointments, no guarantees at all. Just mud, rain, laughter, and long days that reminded me how small and lucky we are to be in the presence of something wild.
Two bears moving together through the meadow, their slow, deliberate steps echoing the soft rhythm of the wild.
And still, it felt familiar. Whether it’s a mother holding her newborn or a bear lifting her head from the tall grass, the heart of it is the same—connection. Being fully there.
That’s what I’ll keep exploring in the weeks ahead—the space between my portrait work and the wild, between the familiar and the untamed.
This was the Alaska I had dreamed of — bears moving through the meadow beneath misty mountains, everything quiet and beautifully alive.
Continue the Journey
As I follow this path north — from early inspiration to my first steps on Alaska’s tidal flats — I’m learning that every story begins with a single moment of connection.
Thank you for being here. Next week, I’ll share what it felt like to finally arrive at Silver Salmon Creek Lodge and step into the world of coastal brown bears for the very first time.
Want to stay in the loop?
New posts go up each Saturday as we move deeper into the Alaska story that eventually will become my book, Seen in My Lens: Alaska.
Interested in Family Portraits?
You can visit my portrait site at BuonPhoto.com.
