March 2026

It wasn’t on my original plan. It just showed up on the map, slightly out of the way, and felt worth the risk. Turns out… it was. A beautiful alpine lake. A town bigger than expected, but not overwhelmed.
Tour buses arriving just as I was finishing lunch… perfect timing. It felt like one of those places that quietly earns a return visit. Summer hikes. Winter snow. Rowboats. Long lunches. I left thinking, I’ll be back.

I knew I was going to miss this view. That feeling settled in before I even packed the camera bag… the kind of quiet realization that only happens when a place has slowed you down just enough to make itself known. The plan was simple. One last morning. One last shot of the valley. The church. The mountains. That image. Saint Magdalena… or something close to that. I should probably know the name of the mountains too.

Good morning from Funes, Italy…
at the base of the Dolomites. Or Dolomite. Or Dolomiti. I’ll figure that out eventually. The sun was just beginning to catch the jagged edges of the mountains across the valley when I started whispering into the camera. Partly because it was early… partly because other people were still sleeping… and partly because mornings like this don’t ask to be spoken over.

This leg of the journey took me north into the Italian Alps… away from cities, into valleys, cowbells, and the kind of air that smells cleaner than it has any right to. I arrived knowing two things for sure: I wanted good light, and I wanted to see a place I’d been chasing in my head for years.