Dry plate negatives - Marshall Mesa

Tintypes from Wheeler Geological Area

Exploring the San Luis Valley - Wheeler Geological Area

I woke up early on Saturday morning, eager to see the wild rock formations at Wheeler and nervous to ride the 14-mile trail. We always thought that Wheeler would be the climax of our trip, both in terms of riding and it terms of photographic and musical opportunities. We were not to be disappointed. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the only thing we knew about the approach to Wheeler was that it was bound to be tough, but how tough we couldn't really judge from what we had read. We would have to see for ourselves...

While we were getting ready for the day a young couple came up the dirt road in a pick-up truck trailing an ATV; they were obviously going to Wheeler. Joe tried to get some feedback on the trail, but the guy just wouldn't give us any useful practical information. However He did offer us "road sodas" (new expression for me that stands for "beers"), but since we were still cooking breakfast we declined his generous offer. They wished us good luck and went on their way. Soon followed by yours truly.

It took us 1h45 min to reach the parking area before Wheeler. Pretty good time if I can say so myself. I am not sure if I can produce an adequate description of the trail... I remember it as a succession of heart-pounding experiences, including flying over rock fields, going down steep curvy rocky slopes before crossing a creek and going up an even steeper rocky slope, wondering what was on the other side of tight traitorous curves and praying that it wasn't another mud puddle... For mud had become my nemesis! 

 

On the way up to Wheeler I fell three times; each fall turning into a mud bath for the bike and I. The first time was due to overconfidence. We had ridden the first three miles with no incidents, the trail had been pretty decent: a few rocks, a few bumps but nothing too precarious. After going through a pine forest, the landscape opened up onto a pasture and the trail leveled off. Unfortunately there was a puddle in the middle of it. I tried to skirt it - too late - and my front tire slid under me. Poof, I was in the mud for the first time. No bruises or any other booboos for me, but the big issue with falling is getting back up. With all the gear my motorcycle must weigh close to 900 lbs - 900 lbs that my meager 150 pounds have to lift up. Not an easy task when your standing in mud and your boots have no traction. However, I wanted to get back up and moving before the ATV I had just passed caught up with me. I didn't want to look like a complete fool, you see... I managed to lift the bike right before the nice folks in the ATV stopped and asked me if I was ok. I reassured them and told them to go ahead. 

Joe and I were to pass the same people again before my next fall, at which time they nicely stopped and asked me if I was ok  or if I needed a ride. Jerks! (Well they were joking, they had realized early on that I was obviously a seasoned adventure rider.) I reassured them and told them to go ahead. At that point I took a well-deserved break. We never caught up with the ATV again. 

As for my third fall, the only thing I know is that it was due to mud. Mud, mud, mud! How I loathe you. Thankfully after my first fall, Joe would stop and wait for me whenever we encountered a tough-er section. He was there to help me get my bike back up everytime. Thanks mate! 

Anyhow we made it to the parking/camping area early afternoon, almost unscathed in my case, immaculate in Joe's case. We set up our tents and quickly hiked up to Wheeler to explore the area. 

What an amazing place. Imagine 640 acres of chaotic wonders - rock formations the like you only find in the most renowned national parks (such as Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, etc), but protected from the masses by 14 miles of unkempt trail. 

Desolate and beautiful. 

Alien and alluring. 

Breath taking and introspection inducing. 

We stayed 21/2 days and 2 nights at Wheeler. The first afternoon was spent taking in the scenery and appreciating our luck to be in such a gorgeous and peaceful place. We went back up to one of the observation points in the evening to see the light fade on the hoodoos and bring part of my photo gear for next day's photo session.

 

I have to mention here that there was a mile between our campsite and the spot I choose for photography and that we had to carry many pounds of equipment from point a to point B. We must have made the trek half-a-dozen time during our stay. Once again, I couldn't have done any pictures without Joe's help. 

I used a foldable fabric darkbox with an internal pvc pipe structure. It is big enough to process 8x10 plates.

Front view.

I also made a plexiglass tank to hold up to 8 plates in water before final wash. It can be used to store plates after coated with a glycerin/water mix.

Sunday morning we got up early and headed to the panorama point. I spent the next 2 ^1/2 hours making tintypes.

For the first 1 ^1/2 hours I was utterly alone in the landscape (Joe having gone back down to our campsite to prepare his recording gear). Later I could hear Joe hiking, climbing, clapping his hands, and no one else. This was incredible!

When I went back down though, it was a zoo. A mob of middle-aged couples, most overweight, had taken over the place both physically with their 8 ATV and perceptually with their loud voices.  It was Sunday after all and a beautiful day to boot, I shouldn't have been surprised to see other people. I couldn't wait for them to be gone and be alone once more for a quiet and relaxing evening in the heart of the geological marvel. 

Last image of the day. Taken at 6 pm under an overcast sky.

I had time for one more image before the evening was over and we had to head down to our campsite for the last time...

On Monday morning, we tried to beat the weather and pack up before the rain. It didn't quite happen... It started to sprinkle before we left; nothing too bad though. We mounted our bikes and headed down the trail. Two minutes later, a fast moving tree stump stopped me in my track. I had forgotten how wide my bike's ass was with the two panniers and had gone too far to the left of the trail. The front of the bike went through ok, the middle of the bike (with me on it) went through ok, the left pannier on the back crashed against the infamous tree trunk. This unfortunate encounter resulted in a fatally broken panniers' rack. I was crushed; I couldn't believe how stupid this was. The panniers contained all my photographic equipment, I couldn't leave anything behind. We had to get down to the pavement. Joe and I spent 2 hours fixing the damages with duct tape and paracord. Under Joe's guidance we produced the following set-up:

Quite fancy, if I can say so myself.

I had most of the trail left to ride and couldn't afford to fall even once. The panniers and rack wouldn't survive another fall; my camera and gear HAD to make it to the next town, at least. I can tell you that the next 13 miles were intensely nerve-racking. But with concentration and a couple moments of luck (I can still remember going through a major mud puddle and sliding left and right before barely stabilizing the bike) I made it down to Hanson Mills with no problems. Then onto South Fork.
The accident meant no more off-road riding for me, so Joe and I decided to head home and were back in our respective dwelling by 1:30 am that night. This was to be the end of this adventure...

Exploring the San Luis Valley - La Garita - South Fork - Hanson Mills

By Friday morning, the weather forecast over Wheeler Geological Area had improved enough that we decided to make a run for it. We were both eager to see the place. Joe had heard of Wheeler a few years back and had since then been dreaming of setting foot among the hoodoos and other rock formations. The few pictures I had seen of the area had definitely picked my interest. I couldn't wait to set my tripod and my 8x10 camera to see how the landscape would translate into tintypes. I was especially curious about the tonal relationships of red and white rocks in the final images.

The big unknown for us was the 14-mile ride up to wheeler. Everything we had read about it made Joe excited and I a little nervous. Here is a description by Donal Prothero I had found on the blog, www.skepticblog.org, prior to leaving:"First you must drive almost 20 miles up a decent gravel road from 8000 feet to 11,000 feet to the site of an old abandoned sawmill near Pool Table Mountain. Then there is another 13 miles over one of the worst “roads” I’d ever traveled on, followed by a hard hike at over 12,000 feet in elevation, to reach it." Donal goes on: "For the next 2 hours over 13 excruciating miles, I was thrown back and forth like a rag doll, one of the most joint-jolting, bone-jarring, groin-crushing, whiplashing experiences I have ever endured."

Somewhere else I had read that the road is impassable when wet. Unfortunately all the information I had found pertained to 4x4 cars or ATVs, no comments or feedbacks from motorcycle riders. I was starting to have the sneaking suspicion that no adventure rider ever made it back from Wheeler alive...

Anyhow our Friday was to be spent reaching the Hanson's Mill, which is the starting point of the 14-mile ride. We crossed the valley east to west on farm roads. On this soft and sandy terrain, my front tire would "float" over the dirt and my motorcycle would swing side to side in a manner that made me slightly uneasy. (I am sure you can tell by now that my experience in off-road riding is not that extensive). We made it across the San Luis Valley with no incidents and found ourselves in La Garita. 

Time for a well deserved break at the La Garita Cash Store. The place was amazing! The outside of the building stated it all "Groceries Gas Oil, Cafe open for breakfast and lunch, National Forest warden". It was bound to be the center of life in this little community. When Joe and I entered, everybody looked at us and fell silent. I had seen this scene in many movies but hadn't experienced it myself, it threw me off a little bit. As most characters in that situation, I pretended not to notice and walked straight to the counter where I ordered a coffee. I knew it would be delicious when it came to me in a spotless white Styrofoam cup. We sat outside for a while, just long enough to give the locals time to forget about us. I would pick inside every once in a while, I liked what I saw so much that I asked Joe if he wanted to have lunch there. We both ordered Phylli cheese steak sandwiches and salad. We were given two styrofoam bowls and directed to the salad bar. The entire offerings took about a fourth of the salad bar: a bowl of salad that could have come directly from my kitchen a few sides and bottles of dressings. Looking at my bemused face, Joe stated that this was probably fresher that most salad bars' offerings. He was right, everything tasted delicious. 

We found a table in the main dinning room. I really wanted to spend time looking at the decor and people and soaking it all in. To me it was an incredible pleasure to be in an atmosphere that stood out of time. It could have been the 30's, the 70's it was obviously the 10's... I didn't think places like this still existed. Stereo - typical Americana.

Dozen of polaroids had been tacked to the ceiling beams (which stood 6 ft high, no more). They were organized by year, from 2005 to 2009. They depicted hunters with their kills, usually still on the back of their pick-up trucks. The caption would state the name of the hunter, the date, the age of the dead elk. So much pride in the faces (of the hunters)... I believe that after 2009, the elks rebelled against the slaughter and started posting pictures of their own in their hangout. The population of hunters quickly decreasing...

Beside this, the decor was quite charming. But the best were the people, locals relaxing, shooting the breeze, taking notes of each other's news. At some point, the cook left his grill sat at a table and enjoyed a leisurely discussion with his customers. Until the woman in charge asked: "Are we done cooking for the day, then ?" Obviously not, since she was handing him a couple orders from the latest customers.

My favorite part of the entire experience came when we left. Outside was parked a pimped-up ATV that wasn't there earlier. Since the only people coming in after us were two middle-aged ladies accompanied by a 12-year old girl, all dressed in quaker style outfits, they must have ridden in the ATV. I just couldn't (and still can't) reconcile the two pictures: the old fashions dresses, the very proper women and their mode of transportation.

A place not to miss if you are in La Garita.

We took some souvenir pictures and left for Del Norte, onward to South Fork and to Hanson Mills crossroad. I believe we got to the dispersed campsite around 5 pm. The place was gorgeous, very lush.

Campsite at Hanson Mills, saturday morning.

Although the evening's sky had been overcast, we were treated to a beautiful sunset.

Next morning, we woke up above the clouds.

Wearing hearts on my boots.

Onward to Wheeler through 14 miles of mud, rocks, water crossings, pastures and pine forests...

Exploring the San Luis Valley - To Great Sand Dunes National Park

After shooting the plates of the Arkansas River, I joined Joe in Salida to discuss our next destination. We both wanted very much to reach Wheeler Geological Area in south-eastern San Luis Valley. However everything we read about the ride stated that the trail would be impassable if wet. The weather forecast didn't look good at all for that area, with 80 % chance of rain... Bummer!

So, we decided to head to Great Sand Dunes National Park in the south east corner of the valley. Not wanting to ride on the pavement, Joe had concocted a route that would parallel Hwy 285 and would be 100% dirt. I will now refer to this itinerary as the trail from hell or hell trail or the toughest and least enjoyable ride of my short life as a motorcycle rider.

It started pretty well - as a bucolic ride among cows - but the trail quickly became very faint and incredibly rough. It oscillated between sandy patches and rock fields. It became obvious that the trail hadn't been used by any motor vehicle in the past couple decades, at least.  Here and there, on the side of the trail, we saw the bleached bones of long-gone adventure riders...

I was closed to falling and being crushed between my bike and rocks at least three times. On one occasion, I had to sacrifice my left leg in order to stay upright.  After about 1 hour and a half of intense concentration and 10 gallons of cold sweat, we stopped at a gate, only to realize that I had lost my cooler. This was a terrible loss since it contained the majority of our food. Joe looked at me, saw the distress and weariness in my eyes (there was no way in hell I was going back through what we had just done) and volunteered to go back to for it. What a pal!

I found myself alone in the middle of wide-open spaces, not a tree is sight, only shrubs around.  And a little creek in which I could refresh my wary feet...

A lonely motorcycle.

Clouds started moving in the valley from the north.

An hour later, my relief at not riding back turned into worry about Joe - I could visualize him laying on the ground, chipmunks gnawing at his eyes, cows slurping his brains, ants and other bugs entering all of his orifices, two lifeless fingers clenching at my cooler's handle... Poor Joe.

These were my thoughts when two silhouettes appeared at the horizon and slowly came my way. Someone had come to rescue me!

When the two figures passed the gate, I briefly questioned my sanity for I could see two of the same man on two different horses... Twin cowboys! What a treat. Looking back, I cannot believe that I didn't take my camera out to photograph them. I must have been too worried for my partner. I quickly asked them if they had seen my friend's body anywhere. They gently answered: "no speaking English"... That proved a little conundrum since I no hablo espanol. We looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and they went on. I am sure Joe is ok...

A few minutes later, I could hear a bike raving;  Joe appeared shortly thereafter, unharmed. My cooler was dangling from his bike; it had rubbed on the back tire and had lost half of its cover:

 

We still used the cooler for the remaining of the trip

Joe had no problem with the ride (I think he even had fun), but was assaulted by a bull and lived is own version of Spain's running of the bulls.

Reunited, we decided that enough was enough and that we should find pavement ASAP. We connected with Hwy 17 and blasted through the last 50 miles to Great Sand Dunes National Park. We got there around 6pm. The light was gorgeous, the dunes magnificent but it was little late to set-up for collodion. And let's face it I was exhausted by our harrowing ride. So, I deferred my WPC photography session to the following evening and had fun with my digital camera.

Who could resist the interplay of shadow and light?

A lovely sunset.

Panorama of dunes at night. This is a composite of 6 10-minute exposures. I got to hang out for an hour, in the dark, by the side of the road in the campground, sipping a little whiskey. 

Fire and sand.

Next morning we went on a leisurely hike along Medano creek, took some pictures of the sand formations and of the peculiarities of the creek.

Early morning clouds.

The wind had carved the banks of the creek into geometrical forms.

Medano Creek

In the afternoon we visited Zapata Falls, 15 miles south of the national park. It was a lovely area. The Falls come down a crack between rocks and the stream seems enclosed in a tunnel for the next few yards. An arresting sight.

In mid afternoon clouds started to form, the light dimed and crows flew away, people took shelter in their cars and RVs. I still thought I might be able to make a few plates and took all my gear to the dunes. I never unpacked my shit though, because lightning started to strike the top of the dunes and winds picked up drastically.

Time to head back to my tent and drink my sorrow and frustration away.

The next day, I got up at 5:30 am and head down once again to the parking area nearest the dunes. (I couldn't leave this place without at least trying to shoot a few tintypes!!!) I spent the next two hours "chasing the light", a cliché that has never been as true as this early morning when I had to move at the speed of light in order to keep up with it and capture the shadows that would reveal the sensual forms of this unique landscape. My plan was to make a multi-plate panorama of the Great Sand Dunes. Because the light was changing so fast, I only had time for one plate per composition. On my third tintype I ran out of water and had to grab more from my bike while my plate was in the wash between developer and fixer. That was a mystake. Part of the plate got exposed to air, which created the artifacts that you see. Unfortunately I still had to move to the next framing if I wanted to have a chance to complete my panorama. Shadows were disappearing so quickly.

Shot on the camping table.

 My plates are not perfect, the evening would have had better light, still I am satisfied with my attempt and the resulting images.

On to the next destination!