Photographer of the Year, Noir 2024 – Silver Camera Award

There’s no driving in Zermatt. And while you can book an electric taxi, at 6:30 a.m., it’s a gamble. The only way to catch the first mountain train—the one the workers take before dawn—is to hoof it.

That morning, we were already behind.
The kids were slow to rally. I was hustling us all through the cold dark streets when my service dog stopped to pee—right on a trash can at the train station. Of course I had nothing to clean it with. The conductor was waving us in, the doors already closing. My son darted to a coffee stand, grabbed a napkin, and did a quick cleanup. We made it on, barely, out of breath and slightly mortified.

We reached the summit just before sunrise. The light hadn’t broken yet, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if all the chaos had been worth it.

Then the sun crested.
The Alps lit up like fire. The Matterhorn stood like a cathedral above it all.

I got this shot on the way back down, when the light kissed the last snow lines just right. I had seconds. I handed off the dog, wrapped my jacket over my head to block the glare, and fired.

The result?
Photographer of the Year, Noir 2024.
And one of my most hard-won, unforgettable frames.

Because sometimes, the chaos is the process.