Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
There’s a place where time stands still, and snow rips across the open land—carried by winds that change without warning. Yellowstone in winter is unlike anything else. It’s raw. Unforgiving. Vast. And for a full week, the search for a single moment became an obsession.
Every day began before sunrise—when the sky was still dark and the land even darker. From West Yellowstone to the winding rivers of Lamar Valley, the journey unfolded hour by hour, day by day—navigating through a wilderness so vast and untouched, it felt like stepping into a world unchanged for centuries. The goal seemed simple: track down the herd. But nothing about it was easy.
Sometimes they were seen from miles away, moving like shadows across the plains. Other times, tracks in the snow were the only sign they’d been there at all. Out in the snow, everything slowed. Gear hauled into place, knees dug into the drifts, and hands buried deep inside gloves trying to steal back a little warmth. A long lens kept a respectful distance—watching, never intruding.
Hours passed. Cold crept in. But there was no rushing this kind of magic. The bison moved when they chose—slow, deliberate, unstoppable. Each time they emerged, coated in snow and set against the pale light of winter, it was like watching a living relic of the wild. A primal force.
One morning, deep into the week, the massive forms broke through the snow—walking straight into view. Side by side. Hooves pressing into the powder. No words were spoken. The shutter clicked. Slowly. Intentionally. And in that moment, it all came together.
What came from the chase was a journey to meet the bison on their terms—in their world. A reminder that places still exist where the untamed roam free… and moments, if you’re lucky, when the wild lets you in.
Collaborative photograph. Learn more
45 Artist Proof / 450 Limited Edition
