A few hundred meters from my house is a cool harbor that I wander down to from time to time. It’s filled with old Scandinavian buildings and boats. You can see across the water and deep into the snowy Romsdal region and the 222 mountains of Moldepanorama. Sometimes there’s mist, other times there’s a snowstorm, sometimes there’s just totally epic light reflecting on the ocean during photography’s golden hour (which lasts every second of the day here because the sun is so low on the horizon).
I love how certain sights or sounds trigger memories. When I was a tiny kid, I’d spend the summers with my grandmother in Puerto Vallarta, and now, decades and decades later, I can sniff the most subtle smell and suddenly be 4 years old, standing on a street corner in Mexico gnawing on a mango. These pictures also do that for me: I grew up in coastal California, where my dad would go on weekend photo adventures and drag me along. His camera sneaks often took us to the Santa Barbara harbor, where I’d stare at the masts waving back and forth in the wind as my dad raced around capturing reflections in the water and sunsets on the horizon.
It’s fun shooting photos at 33 and feeling like a giddy little kid.
