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.

Somewhere near the edge of sanity and definitely on top of Iron Mountain, I found this godforsaken chunk of volcanic rage jutting out of the planet like the fossilized spine of something older than sin. I was running on no sleep, too much coffee, and the distant howls of whatever the hell lives beyond the Read more

Describe one habit that brings you joy. There’s a habit, a ritual, really that keeps my brain from boiling over and my bones from turning into museum artifacts. It isn’t meditation, yoga, or any of that soft-focus wellness nonsense they peddle to suburbanites. No, my joy comes from something far less dignified: grabbing my camera, Read more

On top of Iron Mountain, the night didn’t just fall, it swallowed us whole. The stars were a riot, a full-blown cosmic brawl, spraying light and fire across the black like some deranged painter on a bender. Shooting stars sliced through the void, each one a brief, burning insult to the darkness. My boots were Read more

Somewhere halfway up Iron Mountain, the air thinned and the world took on that strange, fever-dream clarity that only comes from mixing exhaustion, altitude, and the gnawing suspicion that reality itself is held together by spit and rusted nails. The Three Sisters loomed out there on the horizon, cold, black-hearted monarchs draped in snow, grinning Read more

Out in the shadowed timberlands beyond Big Springs Sno Park, where the forest hums with secrets and the air tastes faintly of pine resin and gunpowder. we stumbled into a hunter’s fever dream. A skull lashed to the tree like some tribal warning to the weak-hearted, its hollow eyes staring down centuries of instinct and Read more

There are moments when the universe cracks open just enough to show you the teeth behind the smile. This was one of them. We were perched on top of Iron Mountain like lunatics in a temple of darkness, tripods up, eyes wide and unblinking. Stars above us. Silence around us. Until bam! A jagged snarl Read more
