Tag Archives: Drone photography

Backpacking up to the White River Glacier

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Friday and Saturday, 16-Feb-2024 and 17-Feb-2024


I really do stick to the spots I know, don’t I?

But why not, when the goal is just to get out of town and sleep on the glacier? I mean… the goal here isn’t to get crazy views (even though I like to!), nor is the goal to hike a ton of distance (though I do hike some extra miles when I can)… The goal is to get out of town, carve a spot into the snow, and appreciate the cold and solitude.

The white river glacier works well for that – I know it like the back of my hand, it’s not a long hike, and I can take my time on the drive out. I mean, I’ve never set alarms for days that I go up onto the white river glacier. I wake up slow, get brunch, then… take it easy. It’s nice.


This trip was no different from the others. I mean, I didn’t even get to the trailhead ’till 5:00 or so! And Sundown was 6:30!


But that’s fine – I know the path, I have headlamps, and…

Why was there a fire going near my campsite? Was there someone else in my spot?? For the first time in three years???

No, dear readers, thankfully I hadn’t been site-sniped. It was better… so much better. I’ve never seen any one else camping near my area, in the 3+ years I’ve been up that trail. Which is kind of strange, since I only found this specific spot because, when I went up in 2021, someone else had already carved it out from the hillside…

Anyways, I met a team of folks who were making fondue, and we shared fondue. It was delicious, and I very much plan on making fondue the next time I go backpacking. Also I plan on saying fondue as many fondue times as I fon-can. Do. Due.

In trade, I promised aerial pictures of their camp – I made sure they were okay with my flying my drone ahead of time, of course, and they were quite psyched for the opportunity, so… win-win, right? Heck yeah, right.


The rest of the trip was exactly as normal – quiet, relaxing, and exceptionally enjoyable. I adore the snow, the cold, and the quiet that I can’t ever seem to find in the summer. Something about the stillness of the air, maybe? Or where the world seems to be hibernating, and not expecting anything from us? I can’t say for certain, but I can say that I appreciate it.



An afternoon and evening on Cannon Beach

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Saturday, 11-Nov-2023


After a day hiking out in the Snow on Mt. Hood, I felt the need to switch it up, and embrace one of the many excellent attributes of Oregon. I felt the need to go to the beach.

The morning found me brunching at a new spot in town, which has the best BLTs I’ve had in years, sipping a latte and getting myself ready for the adventure. I wasn’t running; instead, I was aiming for a later start than normal with a goal of finishing my walk after dark had fallen on the beach.

Not quite sure why I had this goal, but… you know what, we embrace the gut feelings that we’ve got, and sometimes we find some excellent adventures along the ride.



This time was one of those times.

I got to Cannon around… 2:00, maybe? With approximately three hours left before sunset. I mean, less… but three hours of light, at least. My goal was to use all that light up walking outbound – then, I’d turn around once the sun was down, trekking my way back in the dark.

The plan went smoothly. The tide was out (not a surprise, that was why I went on Saturday, vs. Friday or Sunday), so I had an endless beach surrounding me to walk on. The sand was well-packed, the views were beautiful, and I even flew the drone a bit to get some pictures of myself.

The sun dipped down, then fully sank below the horizon, and I turned back to town and warmth.




The hike back was glorious. I’ve spoken about hiking after dark before, how your whole world condenses and focuses down to a small pool of warm light, shining from a headlamp into the darkness… this was absolutely one of those times. The endless beach surrounding me, the light fog rising up from the warm sand into the cold night air, the immense distance between surf and full shore… I legitimately couldn’t tell where the sand ended and the sky began. 

My world wasn’t just focused into the thin ray of my headlamp… it devolved and unfocused into a well of grey. The sand, the horizon, the sky… I couldn’t tell the difference. I had to check my GPS every so often to make sure I was still moving, still heading toward my destination… still on Earth, even.


It gave me space to think, to disconnect, and to let my thoughts wander. 

I could have strayed further toward the surf, or to the shoreline, to get a handrail for my senses… but I chose not to. I was enjoying this sense of limbo, of slowly walking through the infinite plains of purgatory. It lasted long enough for me – The lights of town started shining through the fog just as my mind was starting to miss the stimulation of the world.

It was lovely.


Backpacking the Northern aspect of Mt. Hood – To Barrett Spur!

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Saturday and Sunday, 07-Oct-2023 and 08-Oct-2023


You know, I don’t think I’ve ever backpacked on the Northern aspect of Mt. Hood.

I don’t know if I’ve even hiked on the Northern aspect!


With a weekend free, some excellent weather (here, at least), and energy in my body… it felt like a good opportunity to look around on Alltrails, pick a route, and get myself up onto Hood! Starting, of course, with a quick brunch… because I’m me, and I like me some brunch.


I picked the Barrett Spur trail, with some input from my friend Bri (who, years back, literally hiked every trail in the “hikes around Portland” book). It wasn’t too long, but has quite a bit of elevation gain – and ends as a nicely exposed spur with excellent views of the mountain.


Keep that “exposed” note in mind… it’ll come in later on in the story.



I drove up, winding the Mustang up, down, and around the deep forest service roads around Hood. The Southern aspect of Hood is easily accessible, as is the Eastern… but the West and North are subtly less paved. Which is to say, they’re not paved.

I drove, carefully, ’till the trailhead. Found quite a few cars, didn’t worry since somehow cars and people don’t seem to correlate out here, and hiked in. As I hiked, my expectations were proven true – I saw maybe half a dozen people the entire trip, and only two backpacking teams, compared to the 12+ cars parked at the trailhead.

Magic cars, I guess?


Anyways it’s a moot point, because look at the pictures of Hood!



I trudged up the trails, made it to camp, and settled in for the evening. I flew the drone to check out some ice caves that I could see in the distance, appreciated the sunset, and was jealous of another team who came by who found a gloriously sheltered campsite up on the ridge, with a beautiful stone wall around it.

I was jealous, but not particularly concerned, since they hadn’t brought a tent (with the full intention of using the mini-shelter), whereas I had my trusty Nemo tent… It’s held up against the rain and snow, I was confident it’d be fine with the wind off the mountain overnight.

I ate dinner, the stars wheeled above, and I even took the chance to test out my new camera in its night-mode. Photos came out pretty well, I think.



That night, I had some intense dreams.

I’d made camp a bit below the exposed spur, in a spot that I’d hoped would get a bit less wind. It may have, but the wind that I got was still quite above the structural plans of my ultralight tent. I slept fitfully, with semi-constant dreams about bears attacking the tent, wind knocking it over, and getting carried away on the gusts coming down from the mountain.

The tent survived the night, as did I, though not without peril – it nearly collapsed a few times overnight, and actually did get blown down in the morning while I was packing up.

Making breakfast was a challenge, in the wind, but thankfully I had the gear (and nearby rocks) to keep the stove lit for just long enough to get some water boiled, breakfast heated, and coffee brewed.

(Ed Note: Ben actually takes a break while writing this to go get some coffee)



Once I was fed, caffeinated, and watered, I headed up the Spur for a bit more of a view. I tested the limits of the camera’s zoom, I flew the drone around the nearby crevasse field and into the ice caves again, and appreciated the clear skies and chill breezes.

It was absolutely lovely.




With my tent already packed, I headed back down the trail once I was done sightseeing. I chatted a little with the team who has camped nearby, but overarchingly I kept to myself – resting and reading when the need hit, pushing onward when it didn’t, and appreciating the fall colors throughout.

Elevation dropped, miles went by, and soon enough I was back at the trailhead. The forest roads fell away, pavement reappeared under the wheels, and I returned to suburbia.