Despacito & Gallstones: My Beautiful Disaster in Washington

Let’s Tarantino This

I’m curled up in a fetal position on a small dog bed, in the back of the Jeep, somewhere on a remote 4x4 mountain road in Washington. Every bump in the road sends a white-hot searing pain through my stomach. Rain is falling. Jess just tore down her rooftop tent in the dark. My own tent? Still pitched where I left it, on top of the mountain.

There’s a Bluetooth speaker trapped under me. It’s playing Despacito. On loop. I can’t turn it off. I can’t even move.

And weirdly, it’s kind of helping.

But to understand how I got here and how I still ended up getting one of my favorite shots of the year...we have to rewind.

The Plan: Coastal Forests, Waterfalls, and Washington Magic

The plan was to Washington chasing the kind of magic that makes Pacific Northwest landscape photography legendary. That perfect blend of moss-drenched forests, glacial waterfalls, and those northwest coastlines full of sea stacks.

We weren't here to shoot a single image. This was a landscape photography scouting trip, our goal was to see if photographing Olympic National Park and the Washington coast was worth bringing a group back for a future Image Guild photography workshop.

Spoiler: We aren't doing a workshop here.

The Dominoes Start to Fall

Day one: thick marine layer. No shot to be had. But that’s okay, we reroute. Find a new location that requires a stream crossing. I step in confidently and instantly snap both sandals mid-crossing. It’s not a babbling brook, it's the kind that tips your wagon when you decide to ford the river. I’m barefoot, holding gear, slipping on rocks like a clown on ice.

We make a detour. Buy Chacos. They save my feet and sort of my soul. Spirits high again. It’s a fight, but it feels like we’re back in the game.

Until the next day.

Cinematic Mode, Catastrophic Outcome

Conditions still were brutal. We pivot again, let’s fly the drone. I’m thinking moody forest textures, something cool to salvage the day.

I ease it forward, cinematic mode on, obstacle avoidance on. But one thin, invisible branch says nope and the drone drops like a rock. Gimbal smashed. Shot lost. Mood spiraling.

Not just because of the crash, but because that one crash changes how I feel about the whole trip. I start seeing everything as resistance instead of opportunity.

Watch the last moments of life from my drone.

The Mood That Ate My Creativity

At some point, it all becomes personal. The bad conditions, the bad luck, the missed light. Washington and me had beef.

Tired of chasing conditions that never showed up, we hiked to a new location, left the cameras in the car to “just scout,” and you already know what happened next...perfect conditions rolled in. I sprinted back, heart pounding. By the time I returned, it was gone.

On to the next spot.

We rolled up to this eerie little cabin tucked into the forest.

.Captured by Jess Santos

I should’ve been thrilled. The scene had everything...atmosphere, mood, story. But I couldn’t lock anything in. I couldn’t compose. Couldn’t connect. I packed up my gear without even hitting the shutter and just became the stand-in for Jess, who, unlike me, was actually handling the trip like a pro.

This moment? That was the tipping point. The one that took the wind fully out of me...photography burnout and creative block hit hard

Blackberries & the Break That Saved My Sanity

After the drone crash and the missed shots, I needed a reset. Not another hike. Not another camp spot. A real break.

So we took one.

We stumbled into the Blackberry Festival in Joyce, Washington, a hidden gem for food lovers or anyone planning a summer photography trip to the Olympic Peninsula. I swear, it was the single smartest decision of the entire trip. No maps. No cameras. Just berries.

But not just any berries.

These were the best blackberries I’ve ever had in my life. No exaggeration. I tried the pie. I tried the jam. I tried the honey. And then I bought as much as I could possibly carry home. I stuffed jars and bottles into every inch of spare space like it was the last food on Earth.

I still dream about this pie. And those berries,

I shed a real tear when I ran out of each one.

This particular blackberry variety is native to the area, you won’t find it anywhere else, they don't even sell it commercially. If you’re planning a photography trip to western Washington and find yourself near Joyce during blackberry season...make the detour. Trust me. You won’t regret it.

Sometimes you don’t need better light or a better forecast.

Sometimes you just need jam.

Breaking Point: Fire, Fatigue, and Filter Murder

In the days that followed, the universe stayed busy.

A planned waterfall shoot got canceled, trail closed due to wildfires. We hiked to another location in Olympic National Park and I complained the whole way up. No shame. Jess journaled peacefully at the top. I was 99% sure she was writing, “Ryan is being a real b....”

Later that evening, Jess ran over her own backpack. Her entire set of landscape photography filters, NDs, grads, everything inside, shattered. Somehow, the camera survived. We just stood there in silence, listening to glass crunch like gravel. One more thing to laugh about later. Not now.

The Night I Broke

We make camp on top of a mountain in misty rain. It feels like the trip might finally give us something.

At 3 a.m., I wake up with a gut punch so sharp it was surreal. Jess tears down the tent in the rain while I curl up in the dog bed in the back of the Jeep. We start driving down a gnarly 4x4 road, every bump sending lightning through my stomach.

That’s when I realize: the Bluetooth speaker is under me, stuck in a plastic case.

It’s still on.

It’s still connected.

It’s playing Despacito.

On repeat.

We can’t turn it off. Can’t change the song. Jess, white-knuckling the wheel.

And I just… lay there. Listening to Despacito. Every word. Every drop. For miles.

The Shot I Didn’t Deserve

Hours later, I was in the ER. Gallstones. Classic.

10/10 Don't Recommend

On the way back up to retrieve my abandoned tent and gear…we see it. The conditions we came for. Mist curling around the trees. Light cutting through the fog. It’s not what we planned to shoot.

But it’s perfect.

We pull over. We shoot. It feels good again. Honest. Unforced.

I've always wanted a foggy pine shot, I just didn't know it would cost so much.

The Bitter End

The final days were more of the same. Bad signs, lying trail distances, missed reflections (pro tip - make sure you check wind conditions before hiking up a mountain for a reflection shot) and one last blow, a wildfire closed the highway to one of our dream locations. We would’ve missed sunset by hours. That was the final straw.

We looked at each other. We hit the limit of this photography trip gone wrong and called it.

Loaded up. Headed home.

Jess has been trying to convince me to go back. She got some incredible shots, handled the chaos better than I did, and actually edited her work. I, on the other hand, couldn’t even bring myself to open the catalog for weeks. I wanted to forget it happened.

Here is one of the Washington images of Jess's and is one of my personal favorites or hers. Maybe I know all the pain that went into this image, but there is something special about this image to me.

Captured by Jess Santos

So no, there’s no workshop happening here. Not now.

But I’ve learned that sometimes, the worst trips eventually become your best stories.

Even if they’re soundtracked by Despacito on loop.

Your Turn: Got a Story Like This?

If this story hit close to home, we want to hear your own story of a photography trip fail or creative meltdown behind the lens.

We’re kicking off a new series called Worst Trips, Best Stories. A space to share the disasters, the breakdowns, the missed shots, and the accidental magic that somehow made it all worth it.

Got a story like this?

Still unpacking a trip that tested your soul?

Have a photo you hated taking but love looking at now?

Send it our way or come share with our community in the Image Guild Discord and drop it in the #worst-trips-best-stories channel. We’ll be featuring community stories in future blog posts, newsletters, and more.

Let's celebrate the struggle. Because sometimes the worst trips really do make the best stories.