PREFACE: Go back! Turn around! NSFW! Contains dangerous references, including language linking philosophy, spirituality, and creativity! Anathema, foolishness, and an offense to most! You’ve been warned! Just leave it alone if you are even slightly vexed by such uncomfortable notions! You’ll be better off, at least for a while 🤣 This blog narrates a second photography trip, informal, just three friends “out to take pictures” and enjoy the camaraderie. Don’t know if there’ll be another; stamina wanes; lots of driving! This one encompassed over 4,000 miles, three weeks, and more than 1,000 photographs, all capped by a 50-year high school reunion. Not all the images from the trip are included in this blog, I just ran out of energy 😲 Maybe I’ll publish some shorter ones; or maybe not.

Preparing for my mid-October trip in late September 2023, I was thinking about what I would have to say after all was said and done—when I’d completed the culling and processing of the images, unknown at that time yet certain to emerge from the coming adventure. Maybe nothing; silence. But as usually seems to occur, an idea began to form, slowly, like a storm on the horizon coalescing and drawing closer through the day.

I had a general itinerary in mind: western Arizona, the Tehachapis in southern California, then on to Oregon and the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. There were people to see during some of the stops along the way, but also more than enough delicious alone time. Alone, but not lonely. This is where art is created.

Do you ever feel exhausted by the cacophony? Just the daily crap, talking heads, social media, newspapers, email with political rants, etc, which disturb our equilibrium. Reason enough to escape on a trip; or maybe it’s just the mood I am in as I write this! It seems so much of what surrounds us is trivial, even boring. The “cancel culture” needs to cancel itself 🫨🫣🤣; because it is, after all, meaninglessness distilled. No wonder the existential philosophers despaired as they contemplated meaninglessness: an insignificant beginning and an even more trivial end. No wonder everyone seems to have lost their minds! Even art seems hollow, pointless, especially not useful; especially now that it’s done by so-called artificial intelligence (sic). Note my sarcasm.

However, I reject this “Nietzschean” view! Artists create because they must! I’ll say it again: Artists create because they must! It is a reflection of that which they are gifted by their Creator. All art is dialogue between Creator and the created, an infinite circle, a feedback loop that decries meaninglessness. Prayer even, as in my previous blog. Yup, I am convinced Nietzsche’s madness arose from the realization that all his beliefs, his philosophies, his most elegant theories, were in the ultimate end, pointless. Categorically, without a Creator, all philosophies are pointless. Without a Creator, art is meaningless. Without a Creator, beauty is useless, its expectation even absurd. So why do we/I pursue beauty nonetheless? 🧐 Is not the hunger for beauty itself evidence against a meaningless existence? If you disagree with me, nullify (cancel) yourself 🧐😇🤣 and rejoice. Or cry. Figure that one out🧐

The meaninglessness of despair is ironic, no? Why do atheists spend so much time disproving that in which they do not believe? Ironic. Why do natural philosophers propose grand speculations about meaningless things as if that would satisfy the hunger of the human soul for meaning? Ironic. Alone in the Universe and wondering why? Ironic. C’mon, man! Nothing matters if nothing matters 🤣 I laugh if for no other reason than the fact we seek things that matter, because deep down we know that they do. For example, consider beauty. You can listen to all the bullshit or hear what you know in your own heart: It matters! Beauty matters.

So, off in pursuit of beauty! I raise imaginary fingers to the mob’s cacophony, seek the silence of the wilderness, and hope to hear the still small voice, the whisper, the dialogue, between Creator and created. Heading? West toward the setting sun. First stop, Burro Creek Campground.

Back roads. Out where I’ve hunted quail with my brother, unrelated though he is. I said a quiet prayer for him as I passed his campsite: Good hunting. I, too, was hunting. Searching for something that I would not recognize until it appeared before me; a vision? Perhaps. Whatever it was, it is mystery. And such is photography. You don’t know what you want to take a picture of until it appears before you. Surprise! Surely an answer to an unspoken prayer.

Over the years, I’d driven past the Burro Creek Campground turnoff maybe a hundred times. I always wondered what was there. Was it worth a stop? Nope! 😱 Absolutely not! Disappointed, I got back in the truck and headed north on US 93. Not 10 miles further on, I came to an intriguing sign, “Burro Creek Crossing, 16 mi.” Opportunities for adventure were not to be discounted so I turned onto a dirt road winding through the desert hills. Eight miles in, halfway to the crossing, I stopped to get my bearings from a high ridge. A desert is a desert, but it is still a beautiful place. Click on image to view larger.

Eight miles in; eight miles out. Turn around or keep going? In for a penny, in for a pound, I kept on. But as I dipped down into the valley you just saw, I came to a disturbing realization. My odometer said I was 8+ miles along the road, but I didn’t know where I was! The GPS had malfunctioned (ie, lost the map) and I had lost sight of any landmarks like the massive power lines passing through the region. Was I indeed lost? The distance behind me was greater than the 8-mile mark, so I pressed on with a niggling concern at the back of my mind.

At 16 miles right on the button I came to what had to be the crossing. No sign. No indicator that I had reached my destination other than the odometer reading and what was clearly a crossing, from desert into an oasis. I later learned this is known as 6-mile Crossing. Yeah, why? I don’t know either. Click on image to view larger.

It was a beautiful little spot even though upstream was pretty muddy and I was pleased with myself for persisting to the crossing. But now I had a choice to make. Sixteen miles back the way I came or press on to cover unknown ground. For better, for worse, I chose the latter; definitely for worse. Within a mile, I found myself in a dry stream bed, up to my axles in sand. Although in 4WD, I was afraid to stop or slow down below 20 mph lest I became stuck permanently.

Trying to follow a compass heading (I knew I needed to go west) in a stream bed takes concentration and, frankly, luck. With all the twists and turns, I was losing my sense of direction and had no idea how far I’d come or how far I needed to go. I guess that’s a little like flying blind. I knew I had enough water and figured I could load up my pack and hike out if I got stuck, but then I’d need to leave behind $15K worth of photographic equipment, plus the truck. Lost in the maze, I started to get a little scared, frustrated and well, lost. I started to pray while doggedly pushing forward. The tension continued building and, besides, I had to go, you know, GO! Five screaming minutes later, I could see the pavement of AZ 97. Relieved, and relieving 🤫🙄, I shouted over and over, “Hallelujah!” at the top of my lungs.

Back on terra firma (pavement) I headed to my first overnight in Laughlin NV. Surrounded by the walking dead, I had an OK meal at the Golden Nugget before returning to my flea bag “hotel” a few miles away. Don’t trust Expedia! In the morning, I was off to the Peoples’ Republic of Cali only to find that Expedia (again!) had not completed my reservation in Temecula, but I could have a room at the inn for twice what I’d seen advertised. To get there, I left the freeway early and wound through a beautiful valley bordered by golden, gently rounded hills and Live Oak trees. And then I was jarred by the obscenity of thousands and thousands of surreal structures. Click on image to view larger.

The desecration of what had once been a lovely and pristine landscape made me angry. I would much rather see a nuclear power plant in a geo-stable location, of course, if there’s any stable location in the “PRC” where I grew up; the reason? More bang for the buck and less obscenity spread all over Creation. Hate me if you must 🤣😇🧐, but a communist physics professor at Cal Berkley drives a Prius and wrote a book for Obama, Physics for Future Presidents; he says nuclear power is the ONLY way to meet our energy needs for the future. I guess leadership has a cognitive deficit or is not listening; put your hearing aids in! Anyway, although disgusting, the windmills served as a useful example of the photographic concept of juxtaposition 🤔🙄🥱 and so I headed to my hotel for a nap😴

If you have never been to the northern end of the Tehachapi Mountains through the Temecula Pass on SR 58, it is a beautiful drive, especially on the west side. Over the course of my life, I cannot remember how many times I had traversed the pass thinking about the beauty of the scenery, wishing I had a camera, and vowing to stop the next time I went through. Well, this was that time! After my nap, I went out on back-roads searching for some late afternoon shadows; my hunt was fruitful. Click on image to view larger.

A little later, the fog began to roll in from the Central Valley, at least it seemed to in my imagination 😉😇 Yes, this is a construct of my mind. But I have actually seen this in the past, so is it a misrepresentation of reality? I’ll let you be the judge. Click on image to view larger.

After a nice steak dinner and a couple Manhattans in a local pub, I strolled back to my room in the dark, thinking about the day. I realized I’d have to spend a few days here sometime, maybe in different seasons, to find the light in this beautiful place. It doesn’t hurt that they have some good wine there!

From Temecula I headed north in the early morning light to Oroville and a reunion with some cousins, one and his wife, missionaries to New Guinea, and another a prodigal son, like me. My cousin took me on a tour of the devastation wrought by the Paradise fire of a few years ago. The evidence of apocalypse astonished me and I restrained myself from photography; images would not do it justice.

The next morning, I continued my northerly course through the independent state of Jefferson with a brief stop in Jacksonville OR then up to the Washington side of the Columbia River Valley. I’d always wanted to visit there and set aside a day to hunt for the spectacular vistas and waterfalls strung along the length of cliffs on the Portland side. First, an example of this spectacular place; a single frame cannot do it justice, but I tried. Click on images to view larger.

Every few miles, I found a turnout for waterfalls. Here’s one of them:

However, there was one that I particularly wanted to see: Multnomah Falls, the tallest in Oregon at about 600 feet. I was concerned about it being crowded and when I arrived, the parking lot was already filling despite the crappy weather. Oh well, but then it is hard to describe the joy I felt when the falls finally came into view. A big grin plastered on my face, I set up my tripod, and framed the image, waiting for the seas of people to part. And they did! I couldn’t believe nobody got in they way; not because they didn’t want to, there was just a lull in the press of the hordes! Click, click, click; just like that, I was done. Click on image to view larger.

Here’s a link to a small gallery of the pictures I took that morning: Link; I hope they bring to you the same joy they brought me in capturing them. Filled with the satisfaction of marking an important personal goal, I steered the truck towards Washington’s Olympic Peninsula where I would meet up with my buddies.

I’d never stayed in a VRBO, but it was very nice and having arrived first, I got my choice of bedrooms! We were located several miles outside Port Townsend and about the same distance from Port Angeles, not a bad location, but I will do it differently next time. Accessing the west side of the peninsula was an hour and a half drive to the Ho Rainforest and beaches of the Pacific coast. The iconic Hurricane Ridge close to Port Angeles was closed due to snow and rainforests are not really conducive to grand panoramas. So, I found myself focusing 😉😇 on details for the most part, which have to be taken in aggregate to get a feel for the environs. I have put together a separate gallery of twenty-six images (Link) made on this one day and show in this blog only a few of my absolute favorites.

One of the first places we came to was Lake Crescent, a long body of water 20 or 30 miles west of Port Angeles. It was freezing cold that morning and the warm(ish) waters of the lake were releasing thick steam that hovered over the surface, back lit by the rising sun. Magic, I thought! Click on images to view larger.

To me, a rainforest is full of unexpected mysterious vignettes, which I rediscovered in the Ho Rainforest of ONP. Filtered light through autumn leaves, mossy green, splashes of red, and secret places called to me as we hiked the trail. Click on images to view larger.

Being on the far west side of the Olympic Peninsula we wanted to get as much photography in as possible, but it was a lot for one day. Nevertheless, the guys wanted to press on to Rialto Beach, a site with magnificent sea stacks on the north end. I was tired; my feet hurt, my back hurt, and my attitude was deteriorating, especially when I saw that the northern stacks were roughly two miles distant. From my jaundiced view, they could have been five miles away, an impossible trudge for me physically at the time and so I started looking for alternative subjects.

The beach was covered with small stones, two to three inches and smaller in diameter, which extended into the distance. I could see the sea stacks impossibly far away, but I sensed an image calling to me, if I could only figure out what it was saying. Somewhat exasperated, I flopped down onto the sand, my camera hovering in front of my face. And then I discovered something I should have known because I have encountered it countless times in the past: A change of perspective brings new insights and unlocks imagination. Click on images to view larger.

Struggling to rise like a great fat turtle turned on it back, gasping for breath, and desperate to keep my camera out of the sand, I made another discovery. Behind the beach, shore side, a dark forest of evergreens loomed in the waning light, brooding, yet punctuated by splashes of almost glowing old trunks, stripped of their bark and obviously past the ends of their lives. Juxtaposition. Contrast. Different textures. I was captivated. Click on images to view larger.

One of the snags in particular caught my eye. I had worked very hard on my attitude in order to be receptive to potential subjects and this one made me laugh. Subtlety was called for, I thought, let the viewer work hard for it as I had and given its priapic nature, I wanted to avoid explicitness. You be the judge (Click on image to view larger):

Another feature of this forest was piles of driftwood along the edge. Chunks scattered here and there, some almost complete trees, others small branches, I wanted to tell a story of that which I was seeing: Origins, destinies, and final resting places. For some reason I thought of fallen soldiers, their sacrifices trampled by feckless politicians, people with no honor. Perhaps it is successful, perhaps not; again, you be the judge (Click on image to view larger):

Satisfied at last, walking back to the truck, from the parking lot I came upon three images, which I think represent the sequence of realizations I’d come to at the end of this brief sojourn. To some, perhaps these are melancholy, but to me they inspired peaceful rest, or restful peace, however you want to put it. Either way, it was all good. Click on images to view larger.

I captured many more images, but I think this will do for now. If you are interested, you can find the entire collection of 77 photographs here. Perhaps I will write some more about my time around Port Townsend, Jacksonville Oregon, and Pt Reyes; maybe some short vignettes around a small group of images that fortuitously caught my vision. Or, maybe not. We’ll see...