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.

Think back on your most memorable road trip. The road has always been the great truth serum. Long stretches of asphalt, no place to hide, just miles and time conspiring to shake loose whatever you’ve been carrying around in your skull. When I think about the most memorable road trips of my life, my mind… Read more

I found it standing there like a relic from a forgotten religion, half-swallowed by moss and damp Oregon air—a payphone, of all damn things, planted deep in the wilderness near Blue Pool. No road noise. No traffic. Just trees, water, and this rusted altar to a time when you had to stand still to be… Read more

The year reset itself the moment my boots hit snow again. One full year of adventures in the books—twelve months of chasing light, bad weather, good stories, and whatever strange corner of Oregon decided to reveal itself. That chapter closed quietly, no fireworks, just a sense of earned exhaustion. But the road doesn’t stay quiet… Read more

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

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

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
