In Memory of Chris Wright - Landscape Photographer and Friend

Posted on: 14 January 2026

Chris and I first met In January 2023 in Bar Faroles in Lanjarón. We met because it seemed we had a joint interest ... Mountains. I walked in them and he photographed them. Very quickly a synergy sparked, a shared reverence for the soaring ridges, the whispering winds, and the silent, snow‑capped mountains that define the Sierra Nevada.

Dreams of Virgin Snow

I had painted a picture to him of virgin snow slopes tumbling down from the high mountains of the Sierra Nevada, snows gleaming in the morning sunlight. I explained to him the beauties of the snow tunnel, that other world hidden beneath the winter snows that teems with life and colour.

In April 2023 I took him to see this delightful sight which was an hour and a half drive on a rough and very bumpy dirt track. Unfortunately the site that greeted us was anything but that described. In fact it was rather humbling with maybe just a few isolated patches of snow high up. Sean had brought his skis and spent the next two hours walking to the top of the mountain for an exhilarating 25 meter descent that took him almost three seconds.

The only snow tunnel we found that day

Chris and I stumbled around instead in some valleys desperately searching for snow. Eventually we did find a snow tunnel, but it was rather poor and incomplete. We retreated tail between legs. Yet even in that disappointment, laughter echoed through the valleys, and the seed of countless future adventures was planted.

The Flasher of Collado de Alguacil

For our next trip I convinced him to come wild camping so we could catch the sunset and the sunrise over the northern faces of the Sierra Nevada. This did in fact materialise as described. But the trip was memorable for a different reason, "The Flasher" of the Collado de Alguacil. I had never been flashed before in my life, by male nor female, and neither apparently had Chris. So the sight of a farmer 200 meters below, flashing at us caused some initial confusion and later much hilarity. I did of course explain that this was not a normal occurrence.

After these opening two excursions into the mountains Chris might be forgiven for coming up to me and saying,

"Richard, I really don't think Landscape Photography is for me. I think I will stick with Portraits and Architecture"

To give Chris his credit, he didn't. For some strange reason he had got the bug. He wanted more.

Learning the Trade

During that summer we headed up into the mountains many times for overnight camps. At first Chris would struggle with his 15 kilo load, mostly made up of camping gear that last saw the light of day during his Boy Scout days. For comparison, my normal load would be between 5 and 7 kilos.

Chris and the northern faces of the Sierra Nevada

And for every new venture he undertook, Chris would get out of his rucksack another piece of very lightweight, shiny new mountain gear. It was strange therefore that Chris's rucksack weight never dropped much below that 15 kilos level.

I eventually found out that was because Chris couldn't resist packing a little bit more photographic gear in that newly created space. Maybe a more robust tripod, another gadget, another lens (just in case). He never once complained to me about the weight he was carrying but his constant grunting and groaning at the end of a long, hard mountain day told the tale.

Shared Journeys Across Andalucía and Beyond

Chris became a fixture in our local walking group, completing dozens of day‑trips across Andalucía. He joined us on a week‑long trek through the Picos de Europa, where I still recall him lingering outside the Refugio Jermoso, chasing the dwindling light while the rest of us warmed ourselves with beer.

Chris taking advantage of last light in the Picos de Europa

In winter, we strapped tennis rackets to his boots and sent him waddling across the snow like a duck. We fitted crampons, handed him an ice axe, and watched him descend icy slopes with fearless grace. Near‑vertical drops never fazed him; he embraced each challenge with a smile. He never once complained.

On the Tajos de Campanario, Sierra Nevada

Snowshoeing in the forests of the Alpujarras

And as Chris ventured further and further into our world, we would catch glimpses of his. We were once having lunch by a lovely mountain stream, everybody munching on their sandwiches. It was a beautiful setting. But there was no Chris. I searched for Chris, only to find him fifty metres downstream, eyes fixed on a perfect tableau of water, light, colour and shadow. He had discovered a spot far more compelling than our picnic area, teaching me to seek the unseen angles that turn an ordinary scene into an extraordinary photograph.

Chris bivouac by the Laguna de Lanjaron, Cold bivouac by the Laguna de Lanjaron.

He absolutely loved the mountain area known as "Lavaderos de la Reina". I suspect this was one of his most favourite spots in the Sierra Nevada and he had planned to bring clients here.

Crossing snow slopes into Lavaderos de la Reina

On the Loma de Papeles, Veleta behind

Our last overnight trip together in April 2025 unfolded on a lush alpine plateau encircled by towering, snow‑capped peaks. By this time, Chris was very at home in the mountains. He had his tent set up and water boiling well before we had. He was definitely in his comfort zone.

A cold morning - Chris, Kiersten and Richard

Overnight was very cold, the early morning hours, brutally so. We vowed not to leave our tent until the sun hit. But not Chris. Later that day, he revealed images captured at first light, mountain tops ignited by the sun’s inaugural rays. Those photographs embodied the dedication, patience, and sheer love he poured into his craft.

Packing up after a night at Laguna Misterioso

Camp by Laguna Cabrero, Sierra Nevada

Heart of Gold

Chris Wright was more than a talented professional landscape photographer; he was a kind, warm, genuine soul with a heart of gold and a wicked sense of humour. We shall miss him dearly, but his spirit lives on in every sunrise we chase, every trail we tread, and every photograph that captures the wild beauty he so adored.

Rest in peace, my friend. The mountains and ourselves will always remember you.

Chris - Gorafe Desert, Guadix