The light in Wuxia Gorge does not arrive; it dissolves. One moment, the limestone peaks are sharp, grey-green monuments against a pale sky. The next, a curtain of river mist slides through the valley, and the twelve famous peaks of the Wu Shan range becom

After a decade of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America and the monsoon rains of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens at the Yangtze River. I boarded the Century Paragon in Chongqing, not as a tourist, but as

The first thing I noticed wasn't the size of the Century Paragon, but the silence. After years of hauling my camera gear through the chaotic marketplaces of South America and the volcanic ash of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, the Yangtze River greete

The cliffs dont rise from the water; they erupt. The first time I saw the limestone walls of the Qutang Gorge, my breath caught in my throat, and my finger instinctively started adjusting the aperture ring on my camera. After years of hauling my camera

The air smelled different on the Yangtze in late October. It wasn't the wet, iodine scent of the Indonesian archipelago after a monsoon, nor the dusty, sun-baked earth of the Colombian altiplano. It smelled of woodsmoke, damp limestone, and chlorophyll be

After years of hauling my camera gear through the humid jungles of Colombia and the volcanic dust of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens at the Yangtze River. As a photographer, I evaluate a cruise ship differently than a travel

The lift caught me off guard. After years of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America and the islands of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens at the Yangtze River. As a photographer, I evaluate a cruise ship dif

The light at 6 AM on the upper deck of the Century Paragon is a specific kind of silver. Its not the harsh gold of a desert sunset, nor the dense green of a rainforest canopy. Its a muted, mercury-toned wash that diffuses through the mist rising off

The rain came down in soft, insistent sheets just as the Century Paragon slipped her moorings at Chaotianmen Port. From my balcony on the port side, the skyscrapers of Chongqing dissolved into layers of grey and muted neon, their reflections breaking like

The air hit me first. Not the heat, but the texture of it—a thick, humid haze that turned the afternoon light into a softbox the size of a city. After years of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America and the islands of Indonesia for

The air above Chaotianmen Port was thick with diesel fumes and the neon glow of Chongqing skyscrapers, a smog-filtered sky offering nothing but a blank gray canvas. After years hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America and the islands of

The air was cold enough to fog my lens. I wiped it with a microfiber cloth, leaned over the railing of the Century Paragon, and watched the mist peel off the surface of the river like a silk sheet being slowly drawn back. After years of hauling my camera

The mist was just starting to peel off the Qutang Gorge when I realized my biggest mistake. I was leaning over the rail of the Century Paragon, watching the first sliver of Golden Hour light hit the cliffs, and my camera bag was a mess. After years of hau

After years of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America and the islands of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens at the Yangtze River. As a photographer, I evaluate a cruise ship differently. I dont count the

After years of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of Colombia and the volcanic islands of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens at the Yangtze River. As a photographer, I evaluate a cruise ship differently than most. I don'

The sky above Chaotianmen Port was a bruised purple and burnt orange when I first stepped onto the deck of the Century Paragon. After years of hauling my camera gear through the humidity of Colombian jungles and the volcanic dust of Indonesia for My Trave

The diesel smell hit me first as I stepped onto the dock at Chaotianmen Port. After years of hauling my camera gear through the humidity of Colombias coffee region and the volcanic dust of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens a

After years of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America and the islands of Indonesia for My Travel Photo Blog, I finally pointed my lens at the Yangtze River. As a photographer, I evaluate a cruise ship differently than most travelers.

The Yangtze bends hard here, a muscular curve of gray-green water pinched between sheer limestone cliffs. From my balcony on the Century Paragon, the Three Gorges Dam looks less like a feat of engineering and more like a concrete scar across a dragons

The river is the color of milky jade, and the sheer limestone walls of the Qutang Gorge rise like wet black ink against a sky that is slowly turning the color of a bruised peach. After years of hauling my camera gear through the jungles of South America a