Before The Storm

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After nearly a week of beautiful weather the weather gods found out we were in southern Colorado and decided we had had enough sunshine, warm breezes and generally fair weather so this morning instead of the usual sunrise we had the first of many of our snowstorms.

Durango was our host last night as today was the day we were to visit Silverton and Ouray. Both of these places are up at the nosebleed elevations so if we were having rain down here you could bet that it was near blizzard conditions up there. Even as I pondered whether I would attempt it the rain began to turn to sleet then full-fledged snow.

Since going north into the higher country then east through more high country to get home was not only fool-hardy but ill advised I turned our tail to the east and ran before the storm like a sissy, I mean a well seasoned traveler, retracing our path hoping to get to Wolf Creek pass before the storm could catch up to us.

Luckily we made it but just barely, as you can see by the picture above. Wolf Creek pass is over 10,800′ high and is one of the more treacherous passes to cross in the winter, but is the only way back home unless you want to go to Kansas and turn left, so I only stopped at the overlook long enough to grab this image with my trusty iPad. I needed to get over the summit before the storm really arrived because I had neglected to pack the snow chains for the Bokeh Maru and you do not want to drive Wolf Creek in the snow without your chains on. The bones of those vehicles that have tried in the past are still visible, slowly rusting away at the bottom of the cliff.

Tomorrow I should be back broadcasting live from the Directors tower at The Institute bringing you new images and perhaps a story or two, so stay tuned. There’s film, I mean pixels at eleven.

1875

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Back in 1875 when I was in my mid 40’s I bought my first digital camera. In those days digital cameras were a lot different from how they are now. They were roughly the size of a toaster, an eight slice toaster, the lens weighed 82 lbs. and the strap to carry them was at least three inches wide and made out of buffalo hide. The battery was larger than a cow and was hauled around in a small oxcart. The only way you could get anywhere in those days with all your ‘gear’, as we called it then, was by riding a horse. That often became impractical because the weight of the camera would cause the horse to fall, get bloated, expel huge amounts of unpleasant gas and then you would have to shoot it. All in all a costly way to travel.

Or you could walk with all your ‘gear’ on your back, but given what happened to horses when you tried that, that was just stupid. So that left trains. Trains were good because they solved all the problems of other modes of travel and you could stand in the club car and smoke cigars, shoot at buffalo, play cards and when nature dictated it you could whiz off the back of the last Pullman car, a singularly unique experience. This was primarily a guy thing but still, very civilized at the time.

The camera I purchased was state of the art as it could capture color which fortunately was abundant not to mention plentiful and could easily fit onto the images that were made.  As luck would have it the railroad cars were also colorful, and stationary much of the time, which made my job much easier.

Prior to the invention of the camera images were much harder to produce as it involved a lot of smearing of paint on a canvas, not losing the lids to your paint jars, remembering where you left your brushes, and all the complicated crap of making images which was generally fraught with complications anyway. With the camera however all of that changed. You simply chose a subject, placed four to six concrete blocks in a semi-circle, constructed a small but sturdy scaffold, bolted your camera to the primary crossbeam, attempted to get the subjects attention if you were shooting people, covered everything with a large tarp of thick sweaty canvas, removed the cast iron cover from in front of the lens and pressed the shutter. Much easier. If you were particularly adept you could often make a many as three different images in a week. My personal record was four but unfortunately that resulted in the untimely death of one of my assistants, a frail young man that was responsible for the care and transportation of the concrete blocks. Everything worked out for the best however as I was able to replace him with a strong Polish lad that could carry all of the blocks under one arm plus drag the canvas. A much better situation. I guess that’s why they called them ‘the good old days’.

The photo above was made over a four-day period when I was traveling from Durango to Silverton to make images for inclusion in an advertisement for the Great Western Railroad and Screendoor Factory. As it happened the Great Western Railroad didn’t have cars like these, not to mention scenery of any kind and ran trains to places no one wanted to go, so they were eager to get photos that they hoped would lure travelers onto their trains thereby staving off financial ruin. Not the soundest of plans but then things were different back then and a job was a job.

Sharing these photos with you has brought back a flood of memories of the ‘good old days’ which although basically untrue are fondly remembered none the less. One needs to enjoy their memories while they can lest they fade away. If by some terrible mischance you don’t have any memories of your own feel free to borrow some of mine or better yet just make up new ones. It makes each day brighter.

Bones of the Past

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When you record your journey through life with the lens of a camera you tend to see things a little differently than those who do not. Your perspective narrows or widens, zooms in for detail that others pass over, and sees the patina that the passage of time imposes on our surroundings. The moment becomes a scene frozen and captured along the path we travel. For many of us who photograph, this process is not a deliberate act where we reason it all out beforehand but a reaction to what passes before us. The light and dark of sun and shadow literally slip by us in a blur of motion that is the continuous movie playing constantly in our lives. For those of us that document this passage there is a need to stop it, to record it because the image you are seeing at that moment is too beautiful to allow it to disappear and there is too much to see for our memories to hold it forever. Unless we find a way to preserve the special moments we see there is a loss and that loss is unacceptable to me.

This was never made more real for me than while riding the Narrow Gauge train between Durango and Silverton, Colorado where we slowly passed a spur siding where old, out of use railroad cars were parked. It seemed as if they were waiting for time to complete their transformation from needed to not. As that thought was forming it became apparent to me that image, that feeling, was already receding from my view as the train moved us forward and would soon be gone forever and I quickly, reflexively, grabbed the shot. The entire episode, the viewing, the recognition, the reaction, all happening at the speed of a slowly moving train would have been out of my mind as soon as the next interesting thing entered my view. But because I feel the need to save those moments and was able to record that view I am transported back to that time whenever I look at this image. There is also the added benefit that when others see the picture they get to share in the experience as well. All in all it makes this job I do worthwhile.