Every accomplished photographer is driven by foundational forces that provide the inspiration needed to harness a variety of elements into a consummate vision.

For photographer Riley Seebeck, the fundamental impetus behind his work is a profound reverence for the majesty of nature and the ever-changing patterns it reveals. The Washington state-based lensman is mesmerized by landscapes, and he spends most of his free time exploring remote mountains and forests in search of natural tapestries and the light that will draw out their subtleties. In the following pages, Seebeck shares the minutiae behind some of his favorite mountain biking images.

Landscapes First

Winz Barber. São Miguel, Azores.

Mother Nature has always been my main inspiration, so she's usually my main subject. And the best way I can honor her unwavering impressiveness is by capturing the landscapes first before I even place a human within them. This helps ensure I can showcase just how awe-inspiring the Earth can be.

The Little Things

Katie Jackson, Julie Crittenden, Ady Bee Lane, and Jessica Mavica. Kachess Ridge trail, Easton, Washington.

I love to look for the simple moments—the little things that happen in between the major action. Here we have the founders of the Sturdy Dirty Enduro race series just enjoying each other’s company in the perfect lunch spot. Enough said.

Expect the Unexpected

Cody Olsen. Plains of Abraham, Mount Saint Helens, Washington.

This is really just one of those “right-place, right-time” moments. My buddy Cody Olsen and I were out for a big day of riding. We were tired, the light was harsh, and our stoke level wasn’t mega high. We stopped on the ridgeline to eat some lunch and drink a beer, when all of a sudden the sun dipped behind the peak of Mount Saint Helens and created these crazy light rays. Cody had to scramble to ride the ridgeline before the moment was over. Sometimes you just have to strike while the iron is hot.

Endless Possibility

Max Seebeck. Hood River, Oregon.

This was a sweet accidental discovery. Sometimes I think I’ve gotten everything I can out of a scene, only to find that there are other possibilities. I’d been capturing this sunset in Hood River when my brother Max decided to go up for one more lap of the ridgeline. I was heading further down the trail, only to realize that this was a ridge that could separate him in the sky. Talk about a place to get a spectacular sunset.

Mother Nature's Mystery

Cody Olsen and Orion Moonie. Winthrop, Washington.

My favorite time of the year usually comes sometime in October, when the larch trees start to pop in this spectacular, burnt-orange color. The mystery is in knowing when their needles are actually going to start changing, and how long it’s going to last. Some years it happens in early October, while other years it doesn’t even start until November. The beauty is in trying to align with that rhythm, and I often spend a good two weeks doing nothing but chasing this magical and vibrant transformation.

Slowing it Down

Unidentified. Martin Creek trail, Twisp, Washington.

With our world ever increasing in pace, I often wish I could have the choice to live moments in slow motion, when the details wouldn’t just pass me by in a split second. When you slow things down, many of the moments that seem so commonplace can often become some of the most dynamic. Cameras allow me to slow down these moments, bringing me closer to what is really happening around me.

Muted and Minimal

Homestead trail, Sage Hills, Wenatchee River Valley.

A lot of people think this is a drone shot when they first look at it, but it’s not. I actually shot this from a long distance, from another ridgeline, with a long lens. The monoculture nature of these high fields could look mundane to the naked eye, but when you draw this scenery in with a camera it can turn into a scene of total serenity, with nothing but two riders and my dog Perlita flossing through a field of green.

Black Gold Aric Duncan.

Cle Elum, Washington.

This is such a unique landscape, with golden, grassy tumbleweeds growing out of an otherwise barren chute of dark-black coal. The colors, textures, and rideability of this zone were so intriguing that Aric and I spent the better part of two days shooting in this one chute and trying to figure out different angles that would showcase both the terrain and his freeride skills. And it just goes to show that you can ride your bike pretty much anywhere.