Mountains are calling & I must go! Let’s wander where the Wi-Fi is weak & the trails are steep.
Adventure awaits!
Jason Roberts is a photographer who threw himself back into the art like a man escaping a burning building. No plan, no roadmap, just a camera and a hunger for something real. Oregon is his stomping ground: mountains that bleed into the sky, rivers that rage like drunk gods, and ghost towns crumbling under the weight of time. That’s where his lens points, not at the polished, the staged, or the safe, but at the raw nerve of the world.
Roberts walked away from photography once, swallowed by the static of daily life, but he came back swinging. The camera became his weapon and salvation, a way to wrestle order from chaos and bring back proof that the wild is still out there kicking. Every shot is a field report: lightning storms stitched over the Three Sisters, deer skulls strung up in hunting camps, forests whispering secrets in the dark.
Through Nerdy Viking Photography, Roberts keeps driving down back roads, chasing storms, and crawling into the forgotten corners of the Pacific Northwest. His work is part survival note, part love letter, part battle cry. A reminder that beauty isn’t gentle, it’s feral, and you have to step off the map to find it.
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Abandoned
At the edge of the Talking Water Gardens stands a forgotten giant—a concrete beast devoid of life, lights, or purpose. Once a symbol of innovation, it now looms as a monument to misplaced optimism and taxpayer funds squandered without foresight. The city’s infrastructure is crumbling silently, waiting for someone to address its forgotten plight. Read more
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That’s a lie—but it’s a useful one
The year died the way most of them do—loud, crooked, and without asking permission. Twelve months of busted plans, accidental revelations, half-empty coffee cups, and moments so sharp they could cut glass if you held them wrong. A year that started with good intentions and immediately veered off into the weeds, where the real stories Read more
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Oh The 1980s
Share what you know about the year you were born. (Photo was taken by my friend Robert @rjackso714 on instagram) I was born in 1982, which means I entered this world mid-hangover, sometime after the party peaked and before anyone bothered to clean up. America was sweating through the last good years of the Cold Read more
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One more toke before the cold night
I walked into the Talking Water Gardens like a man stumbling into the aftermath of a party nobody admits to hosting. This place was engineered to be clean—scientific, intentional, hopeful. A purification plant dressed up as a nature preserve. Water comes in filthy, leaves polite. That was the pitch. But somewhere along the way, the Read more
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Frozen Spine of Trees
About halfway up Snow Peak, the mountain stopped pretending it was friendly. The snow wasn’t deep enough to slow you down, but it was perfect—that thin, honest layer that crunches under your boots like it’s keeping score. The kind of snow that doesn’t insulate, just exposes. Every step announced itself. Every breath burned just enough Read more
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Bought the Ticket and Took the Ride
The last adventure of the year didn’t arrive with fireworks or fanfare. It came quietly, soaked in rain, dusted with snow, wrapped in cloud cover, and carrying that unmistakable end-of-chapter weight that settles in your chest when you realize you’ve actually made it to the end of something you weren’t sure you could finish. Twelve Read more
Nerdy Viking Photography 