From School Halls to Open Valleys: A Much-Needed Northern Nevada Reset

After wrapping up an brief yet full school photography season in Las Vegas, on top of a difficult year with hard losses, I knew I needed quiet, space, and sky. Two weekends ago, I headed north with no tight schedule—just my camera, an open road, and the deep need for rest after a difficult year. Northern Nevada has always had a way of slowing my breath and steadying my heart.

I stayed in Spring Creek and wandered through the Ruby Valley, where the land stretches wide and time feels gentler. Driving over Railroad Pass and through Diamond Valley, I explored quiet backroads, hunted for fossils tucked into the desert floor, and simply let the stillness settle in. There is something incredibly grounding about being surrounded by nothing but mountains, sage, and wind.

One morning brought the quiet thrill of photographing buffalo moving slowly across the land, their massive presence both humbling and peaceful. Another day, wild horses appeared in the distance—strong, free, and completely unbothered by the world. These moments reminded me why I fell in love with photography in the first place: not for deadlines or deliverables, but for connection, wonder, and the beauty that exists when we slow down enough to see it.

This weekend wasn’t just a trip—it was a reset. After months of fast-paced school days, student portraits, and nonstop schedules in Las Vegas and Philadelphia, Northern Nevada gave me space to breathe again. I returned home refreshed, creatively renewed, and deeply grateful—for the land, for the quiet, and for the reminder that rest is not something we earn at the end of life, but something we must protect along the way.