My name is Marty Hulsebos and I've been a passionate landscape photographer since the late 1980's.
Here is the story of this image.
The Golden Light of The Palouse
It started as a dream, a quiet longing to capture The Palouse in its golden splendor, a place I’d only seen in photographs. Rolling hills like waves of amber wheat, soft and endless, bathed in the tender embrace of light at sunrise or sunset. It was a remote part of the country, far from my Midwestern home, but I was determined.
The odds were stacked high. Timing was everything. The Palouse transforms through the seasons, and only for a brief moment in late summer does it reach its peak, when the fields glow golden under the right light. But even then, the weather could foil my plans—a stray cloud, a misty dawn, or worse, an unrelenting storm. And beyond that, the vantage point. To do The Palouse justice, I needed height, clarity, and patience.
Weeks of research led me to Steptoe Butte, a lone sentinel rising above the hills. It was perfect—if I could make it there in time. I drove for hours, winding through small towns and empty stretches of road, the anticipation burning in my chest. I arrived just as the sun began its descent, a glowing sphere brushing the horizon.
The climb up the butte was a race against time, the warm air carrying the earthy scent of wheat and wildflowers. At the summit, the world opened up. The hills, dappled with shadows, stretched endlessly. The golden glow of the setting sun transformed the fields into a sea of molten gold. The wind hummed in my ears, rustling the wheat below, and the air was thick with the tang of sun-warmed earth.
I scrambled to set up my tripod, my fingers trembling as I adjusted the settings. The sun dipped lower, the light shifting to hues of amber and pink. I pressed the shutter.
The click was soft, yet it echoed in my soul. I captured it—the essence of The Palouse. My heart swelled with triumph, tears stinging my eyes as the sky darkened into twilight.
I stood there long after, the cool night air settling around me, grateful for the journey, the struggle, and the fleeting perfection of that moment.
It was a dream come true.
