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.
-
Oblivious to the Chaos
The road home was empty… A ribbon of cracked asphalt cutting through the ghost of dawn, still drunk on dew and silence. The kid was off to school, oblivious to the chaos her old man was already wrestling in his head. The kind of quiet that only exists after you’ve handed off a piece of Read more
-
Don’t trust the calm.
Somewhere in the high spine of Oregon, the earth splits open like a wound and bleeds green. Tumalo Falls… Not the postcard version that tourists swarm with tripods and Frappuccinos. But the raw, unhinged artery of the Deschutes wilderness. This is where the forest exhales its madness, where the pines lean in close like old Read more
-
Fear and Loathing at Smith Rock
The desert was humming that day, not with insects or wind, but with the quiet insanity that lives between red rock and sky. Smith Rock doesn’t whisper like the coast; it howls through the bones of the earth, ancient and unapologetic. You stand there and feel small, like a misplaced pilgrim in a cathedral built Read more
-
Dispatch from the High Desert: Meditation Among the Madness
Smith Rock. Midday sun bleeding into the canyon, the kind of light that burns truth into your retinas whether you want it or not. The air was sharp, dry, whispering through the sage like some old ghost trying to tell you it’s all a cycle, birth, ruin, dust. And right there, carved into the bones Read more
-
“Edge of the World, Oregon” A Gonzo Dispatch from the Sand and the Storm
There’s something savage and almost biblical about the Oregon coast when the sun refuses to show its face. The light doesn’t rise, it bleeds through the clouds, slow and reluctant, like the sky itself has a hangover. You can smell the salt and rot before you hear the ocean. And when you finally do, it’s Read more
-
The Tenth Beacon: Heceta Head and the Madness of Light
Somewhere between the salt-stained cliffs and the ghostly hum of the Pacific, the Heceta Head Lighthouse burns like the last sane eye on a deranged coast. The air tastes like rust and rain. The gulls scream with the conviction of lunatics, and the beam cuts through the fog like a blade through the fabric of Read more
Nerdy Viking Photography 