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!

Exploring the San Luis Valley - Guanella Pass / Cotopaxi / Salida

I should start by saying that I am not sure how we got from Guanella Pass to Cotopaxi but the route was amazing and the landscape gorgeous.

We came down the pass on its south side and met Hwy 285 at Grant, that much I can tell. After that though, the only thing I know is that we found ourselves on dirt roads with amazing vistas (click on the photographs to see a larger version):

Joe.

Denis.

Then we took a trail that crossed aspen forests and pastures.

It was both exhilarating (thanks to tight curves, and a sometime-rough terrain) and incredibly peaceful (we were by ourselves, the scenery was lush and green). If I hadn't been riding off-road, I could have been meditating... Possible reaching enlightenment... I will never know.

In the midst of a high altitude plateau, we stumbled on a herd of free roaming horses. They were magnificent but the encounter was quite surreal. A bit later we crossed path with two other bikers. As the laws of adventure riding dictate (I think) we stopped and greeted each other, exchanged technical information about our respective bikes and gear, discussed routes, snapped a few pictures and took leave of each other.

Photos courtesy of Joe Turse.

 It was quite surreal as well.

We eventually made it to Cotopaxi, right on time to buy water from the one-and -only store before it closed. We pushed forward to Salida and finally elected to camp on the Arkansas river. I couldn't resist experimenting with night photography and did a couple 10-minutes exposures:

The next morning, trying Joe's patience, I decided to shoot a few plates of the river. During that time, he went on the hunt for a good cup of coffee and some chain lub for our bikes.

Arkansas River, Salida, CO.

I made two tintypes, but one was damaged during that day's trip on the trail-from-hell.

More about that in the next installment.

Exploring the San Luis Valley - To Guanella Pass

Monday July 15th marked the beginning of our voyage into unbound creativity, close camaraderie, extreme motorcycle riding and awe-inspiring landscape. As you can imagine, I was at the same time excited and nervous, elated to focus on photography and sad to leave my two precious daughters and my lovely wife. Nonetheless, as things are, a man's got to do what a man's got to do...

The goals for our first day were to reach Guanella Pass campground above Georgetown, CO and to test our set-ups, making sure that the bikes ran well and that they - and we - could handle their load.
Broomfield to Georgetown is a quick drive via I-70 - 1 hour and a half or so - but Joe had planned a route that would take us there on Hwy 72 and dirt roads, by way of Rollinsville, Central city and Empire. This should take us about 3 hours.

Since the ride would be fairly short, we could take time to pack up our gear and get ready. This was a good thing, because I quickly realized that my front tire was flat... I hadn't even left the driveway yet!
So, we pulled the tire, changed the tube (good practice before the ride) loaded our bikes and were ready to roll.

Photograph courtesy of Joe Turse.

Photograph courtesy of Joe Turse.

I believe we left around 11 am.

I am happy to report that our first ride was uneventful; we made it to Central City quickly and efficiently. At that point, we decided to head towards Idaho Springs via Hwy 6 and onward to Georgetown via Alvarado Road.

Looking at the route on Joe's I-phone

We arrived at the campground around 3 pm. After setting up the tents, we pushed to Guanella Pass. There we were greeted by fog and rain. The first view of the pass and mount evans looked like this:

 

The clouds were moving fast, which gave the sun brief opportunities to show himself:

Although I found the atmosphere mysterious and beautiful, it was obviously not the right weather for wet-plate collodion. We went back to our campground, enjoyed some food and wine and went to bed. In the morning, while Joe was packing up, I mounted my bike, headed to the pass. There I had to squeeze my motorcycle between two cars, as the parking lot was completely full. It was a nice morning and many people had decided to take advantage of the clement weather to hike Mount Evans.

I got all my gear out, set-up my camera, built my darkbox and had just time to shoot one plate since we had a long day of riding in front of us.

Although the plate is not perfect, I was happy with my first attempt of the trip and was looking forward to continue improving the quality of my photographs over the next few days.

Onward to the next destination...

Motorcycle + wet-plate collodion: exploring the San Luis Valley.

A few months ago, I approached my friend Joe with the idea of retracing William Henry Jackson's photographic exploration of Colorado. Jackson was an integral part of the Hayden survey that explored the American west over several years and documented Colorado in 1873. 

The inspiration came from reading Jackson's autobiography and being enthralled with his photographs  and amazed at his achievements. Jackson was a good photographer - no doubt about it - but above all he was a heck of a man and had a remarkable and inspiring life.

Reading his book, I was especially impressed by a sense of discovery and adventure - Jackson was a pioneer and a fearless explorer. I was curious to see if there was a way to rekindle those feelings in the present day. Joe was highly receptive to my proposal and we quickly decided that the best way to find adventure would be to ride our motorcycles - our modern day equivalent to Jackson's mule.

Unfortunately John Fielder, the very famous Colorado photographer, had already realized a re-photographic project on Jackson's images. There was no point for me to do the same. So Joe and I decided to generate our own route and create our own adventure.

Over the next months, our project went through much iteration and eventually became a two-men exploration of the San Luis Valley. Our undertaking is best described as "The collision of adventure riding and the artistic process brings two men to the wilderness of Southern Colorado." I was to create wet-plate collodion photographs and Joe was to record the sounds of the San Luis Valley. Both artists in the field, capturing their surroundings. 

We left for the San Luis Valley on July 15th.