from the eMusings Archive...

Volume 15 • Number 1 • February 2022

On The Road Again

by Huntington Witherill

“If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there." –Lewis Carroll

The curious manner by which time appears to so casually slip the bounds of my conscious awareness must surely constitute one of the more enigmatic, if not entertaining, conundrums encountered during my lifetime. Seems it was just yesterday that I posted a fresh essay in this space and, today, I’m forced to admit that that particular milestone hit the road nearly eight months ago. Where in the world does all of the time go? Setting aside the fact that this is supposed to be a “quarterly” newsletter – and with an obligatory nod to the Wizard of Oz – I implore you… pay no attention to those additional months behind the curtain (and also feel free to ignore the rather lengthy period of time that has surely elapsed since this very article was initially posted)!

Despite the fuzzy nature of my own perceptions of time, I distinctly recall that during the month of October, 2021 – a time frame associated with the presumptive conclusion of a partially self-imposed travel ban which had dragged on for nearly twenty months prior to that – I was finally able to justify getting back out on the road with my camera.

Needless to say, after nearly two years of down time, a three-week travel and photography opportunity could not have been more welcome, nor much more positively restorative in terms of spiritual reinvigoration and visual rediscovery. Albeit, the trip was not without its own complications and, in the aggregate, seemed a somewhat less than carefree experience (by comparison to so many prior excursions). Nevertheless, from a purely photographic standpoint the expedition should rightfully be characterized an unqualified success. I’ve been able (so far) to catalog twenty-nine new images, a couple of which I might even dare to suggest could potentially prove to be as visually rewarding as any I have yet produced. Though to be sure, I should probably live with the images a bit longer before committing, one way or the other. And of course, I’d be wise not to forget that you will always be the final arbiter, in that regard.

Nevertheless, as one who claims to be a “serious” photographer, it can be somewhat difficult (as well it should be) to continue justifying such an ambitious label during those extended periods of time when I am not actually pursuing the objectives associated with what it is that I’m claiming to be. Under normal circumstances, no serious photographer would ever allow their cameras to collect the amount of shelf dust that mine have accumulated over the past two years. Shame on me for that. Have I really allowed myself to fall down on the job to this extent? Well… maybe. Though, maybe not. Read on…

Of course, the temptation to blame Covid-19 and its seemingly incessant parade of unwelcome variants for what has, at this point, precipitated a two-year loss of productivity and opportunity - that temptation remains categorically front and center. Notwithstanding similar protestations suggested within the most recent past issue of this newsletter – at some point along the way it became virtually impossible to continue ignoring the elephant in the room. Despite having reluctantly marked the one-year anniversary of an initially imposed mandate promising “two weeks to flatten the curve” (a dubious anniversary that, as of the date of this writing, itself, occurred now nearly twelve months ago) the ongoing uncertainties, ramifications, and consequential realities of this scourge continue to persist. Although I’m loathe to admit it, the temptation to trade-in my cameras for a new television set (or perhaps a lifetime supply of Rocky Road ice cream) has reared its ugly head on more than one occasion during the past twenty-three months. Without question, the pandemic ushered in a wide-ranging array of rather dispiriting life changes and imposed restrictions, few of which seem to be positively embraced, by anyone. Of course, I don’t have any answers and can only continue to hope and pray that those who insist they are in charge will, somehow, find the wisdom to exercise some common sense. Time will tell…

I’ve also come to realize that when I do not regularly exercise my camera, composing a relevant essay in relation to such activity, for purposes of this newsletter, can all too quickly become a significantly greater challenge. That which I best know to write about is that which I actually do and experience first-hand. Obviously, if I don’t continue to do what I do, I won’t continue to acquire new experiences from which to draw fresh perspectives and conclusions… and that will make it increasingly difficult to write about whatever it is that I’m… not doing. Just as it is with photography, the old saw: use it or lose it appears to be an appropriate fit when it comes to writing.

Okay. That’s probably enough whining… for now. With your indulgence, please allow me to perform a quick re-boot, here, with an eye toward crafting what I hope will be a somewhat more optimistic account of my recent photography pursuits, as follows:

My wife (Tracy) and I have recently returned from a three-week journey to the American Southwest with my own goal (predictably) having been to produce some new photographs. Though the trip took us through four different states, we found ourselves spending a considerable amount of our allotted time in southern Nevada. By the way (and speaking of time slipping away) the entire three-week expedition seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. No question, if I could somehow manage to get away for another three weeks (or better yet, three months!) you’d see me driving out the driveway… posthaste. Despite having repeatedly done so for more than a half century now, traveling with a camera is an exercise I shall never grow tired of. It is also an activity for which I shall always remain grateful. Having been essentially grounded over the past two years (a curious form of house arrest I’ve not actually experienced since that time I was caught ditching junior high school during the ninth grade) the past twenty-four months have constituted a relatively frustrating confinement. (Hey… I thought we agreed to stop with all the whining!)

One aspect of this most recent trip that could potentially distinguish it from prior journeys has to do with the fact that we managed to visit and explore a specific five-mile stretch of Highway 167 in the Lake Mead National Recreation Area, on three separate occasions during a pilgrimage that lasted, in total, no more than twenty days. Normally, I don’t like to retrace my steps during photo trips and prefer to keep moving forward. It’s nearly always been my experience that waiting around for a photograph (for more than a few hours, anyway) is largely a pointless exercise because there are always going to be other (potentially even more advantageous) photographic opportunities down the road.

However, during this particular sojourn which, in terms of geography, was bounded on the north by Grand Junction, CO, the south by Brawley, CA, the east by Alamosa, CO (and of course, Monterey, CA to the west) – for reasons that I hope might become self-evident upon viewing the images, themselves – while we did indeed visit (and I photographed) a variety of locations situated within a four state perimeter, I was, nevertheless, repeatedly lured back to a personally captivating viewpoint located in close proximity to the Muddy Mountain Wilderness Area, near Lake Mead, in southern Nevada. With no more reasonable nor illuminating explanation, we just kept returning (seemingly, every three or four days) to the exact same spot. Perhaps – at least from a practical standpoint – the fact that we were able to find one of the few open (and not simultaneously filled to capacity) campgrounds (nearby, at Echo Bay) must surely have served to help encourage us to repeatedly return to the same familiar outpost.

In addition, one of the things that I’ve routinely postulated over the years (specifically in relation to landscape photography) appears to have been demonstrably confirmed, as well as repeatedly reinforced, during this recent past trip. When it comes to photographing the landscape, what is going on in the sky will often be every bit as important (from a visual standpoint) as that which is occurring on the ground. It stands to reason that atmospheric effects will always heavily influence the specific distribution and quality of light that is being projected onto the land. As such, under most circumstances (though obviously, not all circumstances) a clear blue sky will rarely serve as the most effective gateway to a visually compelling landscape photograph.

And just as it has been with so many prior trips to America’s southwestern deserts, the preponderance of days experienced could best be described as being just a little bit too much like the photographer (yours truly) in that the prevailing conditions were predominately “bald and windy.” This trip proved to be no exception in that the days during which the sky appeared to come alive with gifts of visually compelling cloud activity – a condition I like to euphemistically refer to as: “sky music” – those days were few and far between (perhaps no more than four or five days, total, during the entire trip). Yet, when those days did materialize, we somehow found ourselves repeatedly situated in the Lake Mead National Recreation Area and thus, the reason there are so many photographs being currently featured in the Recent Work Gallery which may well appear to have been originally shot from the standpoint of a rather tightly spaced group of tripod holes.

By the way and as an aside, I might tend to dismiss potential criticism of the aforementioned idiosyncrasy by invoking the words of Marcel Proust, to wit: The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. Though suffice it to say; given the same proximate location and a variety of diverse lighting situations (having been the direct result of a veritable symphony of sky music, if you will) such conditions have, in my opinion, conspired to predictably reinforce the absolute importance of the overall nature and quality of light serving to characterize and distinguish the individual images that we photographers continue to make.

Now of course, one has to wonder… have I unearthed any new photographic ground with what is arguably repeated exploration of some long standing photography haunts? Probably not. However, it nevertheless felt really good to get back out on the road, again.

And, if I could be permitted to suggest as much, it is absolutely my sincere and fervent hope to continually crow about just how lucky I am for the opportunity to once again celebrate the visual beauty that has remained such a reliable wellspring of comfort and inspiration in my life. I simply cannot imagine leading a more rewarding and fulfilling existence than to be able to continue documenting – through the eye of a camera – the aesthetic beauty of so many personally engaging venues throughout the countryside.

Surely, I must be the luckiest soul on the planet.


Huntington Witherill