Burning Man - Black Rock Philharmonic
I brought my Trombone to the playa and played with the Black Rock Philharmonic - a 70-ish person symphony orchestra that comes together to perform at Burning Man each year.
I brought my Trombone to the playa and played with the Black Rock Philharmonic - a 70-ish person symphony orchestra that comes together to perform at Burning Man each year. Our first full orchestra rehearsal was on-playa on that first Sunday of the week and it was such a gift to see so many talented musicians come together and share such beautiful music with the playa (and also refreshing to hear something other than 4/4 bass kick thumping deep house music haha). Having the opportunity to play my trombone with a symphony again was such a grounding and enriching experience for me.
Action shot. The strings were tuning here during a rehearsal at camp Frozen Oasis so I held up my trombone in front of the camera as if I was playing, too, haha.
Music (and playing Trombone) was such a big part of my early life and I had seriously considered studying music through much of High School. Things changed and I ended up taking a different path and so I hadn’t played or performed in any way in over 6 years and hadn’t played in a full orchestra like this in probably 13 or 14 years. I knew I missed playing music with other people, but didn’t expect how much. When we came together for that first rehearsal on the playa and played through our first piece - Holst’s Jupiter - I started crying because of how good it felt to play music with other people like this again.
One big theme of my burn was an honesty with myself in embracing what felt honest in how I wanted to be showing up in that very moment. This feeling can probably be lumped in with “radical self expression”, but nothing about playing with the BRP felt radical to me. It felt so incredibly natural and familiar and “like home” to play my Trombone again, a sort of “oh yeah, this is part of my DNA”. The radical part was in the stark contrast that this honest self expression felt compared to so many other things that manifest in my life which are more rooted in appeasing what others want from me, winning people over, or doing what I need to do to make an economic space for myself in the world.
An added layer to this feeling of deep gratitude for myself in being radically honest in my self expression was how our music was also received and appreciated by the folks who came out to see us perform. Watching the audience was like a mirror for my own felt inner appreciation for what we were doing there. I cried at some point during every performance, and seeing folks listening being moved in their own unique ways filled me with gratitude for what we were all doing there.
I often find myself feeling like there isn’t space for my tender self to find places for expression and witness in the world, whether due to a safely superficial or party-party atmosphere or just my own conditioned expectations for how I’ll be received (or not). Throughout the burn I often felt my honest inner self feeling more calmly quiet, crying, feeling tender gratitude and grief, and each time I embraced that self honestly and brought it out, it only served to invite others into bringing more of their own selves out more honestly as well.
Our Thursday performance was in the evening out at the art structure Paradisium - a group of tree-like structures that you could climb up into and walk between across small bridges. This was my favorite performance of the week. I felt like I played my best, and the orchestra as a whole also sounded the most vibrantly together that night. A lot of friends from my camp also came out to this show and it really warmed my heart to be able to share this experience with them.
It brought me so much joy just to play with the BRP, and it was made so much better by how much gracious energy the audience gave back to us as we performed. One man stood up to give a vigorous clapping standing ovation after each song, which I found pleasantly amusing and energizing. Everyone got up and started dancing around when we played the Can Can (which I thought was the most fun piece for Trombones to play in our lineup this year), and watching the dust slowly float up with the commotion felt magically special. And of course I cried each time we performed Hallelujah.
Burning Man - Tiger Art Bike
I’ve long wanted to make some sort of fun art bike, and finally built one for Burning Man this year.
I’ve long wanted to make some sort of fun art bike, and finally built one for Burning Man this year. I had so much fun riding around the playa on the tiger bike, and lots of friends in camp appreciated how easy it was to spot the fiber optic tail (one of those rave whip lights I taped on to the back) when we were riding around at night.
It started with a beach cruiser that I picked up off of craigslist. The wider tires, and more upright riding position of the beach cruiser make for a more comfortable playa bike. It also had a kick stand on which I put a tennis ball to keep it from digging in to the playa which helps a lot when parking. It does have a rear derailleur, which is a common source of broken bike woes on the playa, but I didn’t have any issues with it this burn. The playa dust is extremely fine and gets in and on everything, so the simpler the mechanics the more reliable time you’ll generally have. Also, keeping the wide tires under-inflated helps both give a smoother ride and avoids flats as the sun and high temperatures cook the bike during the day.
It also had a happy-sounding “get out of my way” bell, which quickly got filled with playa dust and was a source of joy as it slowly stopped working. Well, it kept working but not on-demand. The dust froze up the little ringer thumb lever which I eventually accidentally MOOPed while riding one night as the plastic failed and snapped off and disappeared into the night. The bell, however would then randomly start jingling from time to time from bumps in the playa - a wonderful little happy song emanating from the nuances of dust.
I bought some tiger stripe fur from my wonderful local fabric and crafts shop Stitches and spent between 30-40 hours meticulously cutting and glueing the fabric on the frame. I was careful to keep the mechanical bits accessible so that I could service the bike without having to remove the fur.
Another in-progress fur-ing photo. I’d originally planned to put tiger stripes on all the pieces of the back frame/rack but ended up liking how the original blue paint went with the other tiger furred pieces so I kept some parts exposed.
I had planned to make a more elaborate tail to the tiger bike but ran out of time before the burn, so I ended up taping one of those fiber optic rave whips onto the rear of the bike as a tail-like attachment. It worked really well for visibility and lighting aesthetic, though the batteries generally only lasted for one night’s worth of riding around. Adding more lights to it will be a fun extension project for next year.
I loved both making the bike and riding it around. The tiger bike definitely brought myself a lot of joy and drew a nice range of happy comments and compliments as I rode around, so I think it spread some joy to others as well :)
Burning Man - Temple Ritual
On night mid burn week, I was out exploring with some camp friends and ended up getting triggered by some sexual expression that left me in a short panic attack; crouched unseen with my knees in my arms, my nervous system reliving how scared and violated I felt when I was assaulted a few years ago.
One night mid burn week, I was out exploring with some camp friends and ended up getting triggered by some sexual expression that left me in a short panic attack; crouched unseen with my knees in my arms, my nervous system reliving how scared and violated I felt when I was assaulted a few years ago.
Later that evening, when the group split up and went back to camp, I felt myself magnetically drawn to the temple and I biked there and walked up to the portals to enter the space.
I’ve had years of therapy and processing of that experience and had an explicit intention to do some sort of ritual of healing for that experience during my time at Burning Man, and though I did not know what it would look like, the playa was helping it happen for me.
I now stood before the portal, straightened up and held my head high to gaze toward the soft glow of the temple, and slowly walked in.
There’s a PTSD re-embodiment technique to feel the sensations in your feet to keep yourself grounded in your body, and so i stepped forth, simultaneously holding my gaze on the portals and the temple and feeling the soft dust hold me with each step.
I reached the temple, and touched its dusty surface and felt it welcome me. Here, I could feel my pain and cry and I wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone.
And so I crouched down, knees in arms like earlier in the evening, and sobbed for myself. Feeling with the whole of my heart the overwhelming grief for how much of my vitality for life was taken from me that night; how years later, surrounded by love and beauty, I can still so easily be reduced to the rubble of those damaged mosaics of experience.
I cried for my months of isolation during covid when each morning I’d be awoken from a nightmare of flashbacks reliving that trauma only to come forth into the reality of a world of lonely isolation, my support system stripped bare, utterly overwhelmed and completely broken.
I felt it all, and I held myself with love. Slowly, as I let the pain be felt and move through me, an upwelling of love for myself came with it. A growing swell of gratitude for all the care I’ve given myself and all the beautiful friends and family who have supported me along the way. I felt a calm assuredness that even with all I’ve felt, I’m also going to be ok, that I am ok.
Feeling myself thoroughly honored in the ritual, I slowly made my way back out and onto my bike to quietly explore deep playa and reflect on the experience. Eventually, I came across an art piece with a single blinking red light and some glowing words of support dug into the playa speaking towards letting go and stepping forward into life.
It had a book and a sharpie in it, asking folks to “sign the guest book”, and so I stood - alone in the dark deep playa, all of burning man happening behind me, and I wrote:
I come here from the
temple, where I cried tears
of grief for the identity I lost
when I was sexually assaulted, where
I sobbed and held myself in all
the fear, sadness, and pain I’ve lived
in learning to live with that experience.
It is always a part of me,
and it does not define me.
I live with grief, I live with
the inner terror of that lived experience
and I am also resilient
and I also live with an unending
love for my deepest being.
For I have seen and known the
depths of my soul. And what I see
is beautiful.
-Luna
A few days later, on man burn night, after having another equally emotional temple experience, I made my way back to this art piece to read this message to myself again.
There, I found that someone had torn out that page and kept it for themself. I stared at the missing page, and thought on the anonymous burner who had stumbled onto the same art piece out in the dark deep playa and on reading my message felt compelled to tear it out and take it with them in their own rush of emotion. Maybe they too have felt that same terror, that same loss of self.
I hope they know that it’s not their fault, and that even if they feel broken now, that they too are also resilient.
And I hope the day comes that they can see the depths of their own soul, and know that they, too, are beautiful and so worthy of all the love and care in the world.
Berlin Thru Analog Photos
While in Berlin, I joined up on a local film photo-walk meetup organized by Lomography and met a bunch of people walking around with film cameras hung over their shoulders. There seemed to be a resurgence in popularity for analog photography which I enjoyed..
While in Berlin, I joined up on a local film photo-walk meetup organized by Lomography and met a bunch of people walking around with film cameras hung over their shoulders. There seemed to be a resurgence in popularity for analog photography which I enjoyed..
We came across this while on the photo walk and joked about how quintessentially Berlin the sentiment was. Everything everywhere was always better last year.
I saw these photo booths in various places across the city - they had a nostalgic charm to them that attracted all sorts of folks. The physical realness and immediacy of experience offered by the photo booth is refreshing and exciting in our world of ephemeral social media distraction. I increasingly feel that the ubiquity of low effort digital photos that immediately disappear into vanishing void of the social media vortex is driving the resurgence of physical and analog media.
I found a lot of spaces like this across the city, where people could hang out and loiter with friends without the need to consume.
The tan/orange/blue aesthetic of this one felt very 1970’s to me. I wonder how long this one’s been around.
The same photo booth as above but later in the night. The soft glow of “Photoautomat” felt increasingly romantic as the night drew on.
One of my shots from the photo walk. The scooter was “locked” onto the bike rack but the lock didn’t actually loop through anything on the scooter. The whole scene had an “overlooked” feeling where people had clearly been present to create everything in the scene but none of the human influence felt recent. When was the last time someone walked through that door? Today? Last year? I couldn’t tell.
Berlin Thru Transit
Back in July, I spent 2 weeks in Berlin. I really loved the fact that I never once had to get into a car the entire time I was in the city - train from the airport, the U/S-bahn took me anywhere I needed to go, and it was delightful to bike around as well.
Back in July, I spent 2 weeks in Berlin. I didn't have any specific agenda other than that everyone I knew who had visited the city had told me they really loved it.
I really loved the fact that I never once had to get into a car the entire time I was in the city - train from the airport, the U/S-bahn took me anywhere I needed to go, and it was delightful to bike around as well. There was such an abundance of transit options, I didn't even take any of the many busses or trams either.
The city also felt actually inhabited by people living their lives and not just living to work. I saw adults and teenagers hanging out in the world, on the train and in the streets. When I slowly rode my bike along the ever-present bike lanes, I would regularly be passed by a pregnant woman on one side and an ancient man on the other (he seriously seemed so old, idk how he was riding that bike lol, it was great). Regular people rode bikes for regular every day things - biking wasn't just for the spandex-kitted daredevils running the gauntlet through auto-infested streets. Maybe I'm a friendly-looking person, but I also found myself regularly getting into random conversations with strangers - something I find rare in Seattle.
This bridge spanned some rail tracks with a nice view of the city skyline in the distance. Each evening, people would gather on the west-facing side of the bridge with a bottle of beer or wine and hang out looking over the sunset. It was a very chill vibe with occasional bikes riding by over the bridge. I don’t remember a single car crossing the bridge in the time I sat there, which I really appreciated.
If you look closely in the middle left of this pic, you can see a strange color artifact in the scan. I’m not sure the cause of that, maybe something to do with color clippings or insufficient washing of the film, but it’s something I’ve started noticing when using the Epson V600 to scan that I didn’t notice with the Plustek Opticfilm 8100. With one experiment, I tried wiping the spot on the film with a clean microfiber cloth and it seemed to lessen the artifact, so maybe it’s some sort of oily sheen on the film that’s being picked up differently.
This was the east-facing view from the Modersohnbruecke looking out at the Ostkreuz S-Bahn station. I enjoyed watching the trains pass by.
Overlooking a bike lane over by the Technikmuseum. The bike lanes were abundant and generally safe feeling - not once did I find myself spit out onto a treacherous bike line threading through trucks with no barrier protection (something common back home).
Colorado Trail ‘21 - a day at 13k ft
The day after stopping in Lake City to resupply on food, IMade my my way up to the highest elevation point on the Colorado Trail
The day after stopping in Lake City to resupply on food, as I was making my way up towards the highest elevation point on the Colorado Trail, I passed by an older man on the trail who went by the trail name "Z-man" (I didn't ask how he got the name).
A bit further up the trail, I was sitting down having a snack and putting a new roll of film into my camera when he caught up to me. We chatted a bit about cameras and the past few days on the trail. We said our goodbyes and I continued up a set of switchbacks, thinking we probably wouldn't see each other again seeing as I was hiking a bit faster than he was.
Stopping again at the top of the climb for another snack, I heard Z-man call out to me asking if I'd stay back for him to catch up. "Of course", I called back, wondering what he wanted to chat about. As he got close, he asked "Hey, do you think you could stay back and hike behind me for a ways?" Curious and thinking that maybe he was feeling a bit lonely and wanted to keep chatting on the trail, I replied "yeah, happy to, what's up?".
That's when he told me "Thanks, I'm a bit worried. Back there on the climb, I stopped to take a leak and - I was peeing blood. Not sure what's going on, I feel fine, but that has me spooked".
Shit, what? Peeing blood??
We're hiking now, and I ask him how he's feeling, if something like this has happened to him before, trying to think of what I could even do in this situation. I know some basic first aid, but not anything to help with something like that. We talk about the elevation, hydration - he's been drinking plenty of water. He has one of those GPS rescue locators on him and tells me how to use it "just in case I keel over, you know?". "Of course, I've got your back", I say, hiking along behind him and watching every little rock kick and stumble wondering how "fine" he really does feel.
As we continue on, I start trying to think of what we even could do if his health started deteriorating more. We're probaby 15 miles away from a road on either side, and have passed maybe one other hiker that day. That rescue beacon is the easiest route, and also an expensive one. He doesn't want to use it unless he has to. I admit to myself that pretty much all I can do is offer moral support.
We continue on and I start asking him about himself. There isn't much more health-wise to discuss - he wants to continue on, so I try to help him feel more at ease. Turns out he volunteered with a Venturing crew for a while (I was in boy scouts growing up), so we chat about camping with scouts. He's in his early 60s and is thinking this is probably the last long hike he'll do. He's really hoping this little "peeing blood" business doesn't fuck up his plans to finish this trail.
"Yeah, I hope you're able to finish the trail too", I reply, thinking but not saying "and I hope you don't die in front of me in the process!".
We're small talking for a while longer and he turns around and pats his breast pocket, "There's a small notebook in my pocket here, in the front cover is my wife's phone number. Give her a call for me if something happens, ok?"
"Yeah, definitely. Thanks for letting me know."
We keep hiking.
I wonder how I'd even call his wife, being miles from any cell service. Would I have to leave his body on the trail to even get to that point? I try not to think too much about things like that. I'll deal with what actually happens when it happens...
After hiking up a few false-summits, we finally make it up to the highest point on the Colorado Trail. We stop - he wants a photo. I take a few photos of him standing next to the sign with his phone, and he offers to take a photo of me on my film camera, and snaps the above photo. It feels weird to be taking photos of each other casually like this when he's seemingly having a medical emergency, but then again what else can we do? We sit for a bit and eat a snack as he tries unsuccessfully to send a text to his wife.
From off in the distance, I think I hear some noise, so I tell him I'm going to scout ahead a bit. I hike around a few bends and confirm that I see and hear an ATV putting up some dust in the distance. I take off my pack and jog out, waving my arms in that "Hey! Something's wrong here - please stop!" sort of way. These are the first people we've seen all day.
They stop - two older men from Texas, and I tell them the situation. Z-man catches up, and we all talk about what can be done. They could drive him back to Lake City, but there isn't any urgent care there, what would he do then? Should he just use the rescue beacon? Can he even fit on this 2-person ATV? We'll have to dump out this cooler of ice and move some stuff around to make room.
20 minutes or so go by and things are ready to go. Z-man climbs into the passenger seat, and the friend climbs up on top/back of the ATV sitting on the cooler. Then, Z-man puts out his fist to me for a fist-bump - "Thanks for hiking with me and watching my back, Luna. I appreciate it". "Yeah, happy to help, I hope this doesn't turn out to be something serious. Hope you're able to finish the trail". "Yeah. Me too." They start driving back down the ATV track.
As they slowly drive off to who knows where, I think "And after all that, I never even learned his real name".
I wonder how things turned out for him.
So there I was, standing alone again on the trail wondering how things would turn out for me. I picked up my pack and started hiking again, thinking back over what all had just happened. A short way further down the trail a shadow passes over me followed by a sudden wind and stark 20-degree temperature drop. Ahh shit, I look back to see an afternoon storm looming over the ridge behind me.
I'm still above treeline. A dangerous place to be in a thunderstorm. My original plan was to be back down below treeline elevation before any afternoon storms cropped up, but things rightfully slowed down for a while helping out Z-man. It was maybe 5:30pm now and here I was, a mile or so of hiking before the map said I'd be back down below treeline, maybe another more before a spot to camp for the night, and now with an afternoon thunderstorm knocking on my heels.
I picked up the pace, and it started sprinking. Damn, my rain pants were all the way at the bottom of my pack. Sensing I didn't have much time, I skipped the pants and just started putting my rain cover on my pack - I didn't want to splay out my sleeping bag etc on the hillside to get to my pants. Sure enough, just as I finished covering my pack, it started pouring. Picking up my pace a bit more, I continued on, praying for cover. I could hear thunder, but it seemed to be staying on that other side of the ridge.
I pass some stands of shorter trees start when I see a bright flash of lightning. Now, I remember back from Scouts that you can count the number of seconds between the flash and the thunder, divide by 5, and you'll get the number of miles away the lightning strike was. *one thousand-one, one-thou...* <BOOOOOM>. Shit! That was waaaay too close. I abandon my hope of setting up camp and bee-line for some bushes for cover nearby. I avoid the taller trees - I don't want them to be a lightning rod of cover, and crouch on my toes in the bushes to wait it out.
Wind rips around, hail thumps down. I wonder if Z-man got caught in all this too, and I joke with myself "Hell, maybe I'm the one who really needed that locator-beacon after all". Maybe half an hour goes by and slowly the lightning strikes get further away, and the rain gets lighter.
I emerge from my savior bush and look around. The tiniest bit of golden hour light shines under the clouds and warms the valley. Some birds start chirping and everything glistens with beads of sunset fire.
A few hundred yards up the trail, I find a woman crouching in her own protective bush next to a half-constructed rained on tent, and I let out a sudden stress-relief shout of joy. Another human! The lightning interrupted her setting up camp. We chat about the storm and I tell her about Z-man. "Ahh, that really sucks for him. I just saw him down in town the other day and he was so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, refreshed and ready to get back on the trail. I hope he's ok."
"Yeah, me too".
Later that night, I lay in bed trying to avoid getting out of my warm sleeping bag to go out and pee. Eventually, I get out and look up at a perfectly clear sky and a beautiful bright milky way painted across the sky. As I gaze in wonder, I see a meteor streak across the sky, then another. Suddenly I remember what some folks told me a few days ago on the trail - tonight is peak viewing for the perseid meteor shower! I stop and gaze up at the sky and watch streak after streak as the cold clear night sends a shiver up my spine.
How does so much fit into one day, where so much pain, fear, uncertainty, relief, joy, and beauty all coexist alongside each other like that? When I came home, I was often naturally asked “how was the trail?” The best response I could come up with was “It was a lot. And I’m glad I did it.”
More Art Cars @ DHFest
There were two other art cars at the Desert Hearts Festival this year. One was a big pineapple, which I’d also seen at Dirtybird Campout in 2019. The other was a big dragon that could shoot fire out of its mouth.
Continuing on from my post about the @kuker.art.car, there were two other art cars at the Desert Hearts Festival this year. One was a big pineapple, which I’d also seen at Dirtybird Campout in 2019. The other was a big dragon that could shoot fire out of its mouth.
I particularly like the pineapple. It’s decked out with LEDs and is basically just a bed on wheels. Lots of folks lounged around on it throughout the fest, and one night I watched as a group of probably 20 friends, all dressed up in pineapple onesies gleefully gathered around it as their unexpected temple. At DHFest, the pineapple was mostly stationary. Seemed like the fest didn’t want anyone to get run over on accident - understandable. When I saw it at DB Campout, though, I remember it driving all around, and at one point even trying to slowly drive into the big crowd at the main stage. It also had its own speakers on it and was its own moving party into the early morning once the scheduled festival sets stopped at night. The proliferation of renegade parties at DB Campout are definitely a fun contrast to DHFest’s one-stage-one-vibe atmosphere. I like both of them in their own ways.
These first two shots were taken on transparency film - Fujifilm’s Fujichrome Velvia 50. This was the first time I’d shot Velvia 50 and I’m in love with the vibrancy of the colors. I was using a simple incident light meter to figure out exposure settings, which worked well in the uniform daytime light out on the beach. I was a little worried about how the shots would turn out, since previous attempts at shooting Kodak’s transparency film Ektachrome 100 for some outdoor landscape photos showed that it was very sensitive to exposure, where shots turned out fairly muted if I got the exposure off by a bit. Maybe I got the exposures right this time, maybe Velvia 50 is more forgiving, I’m not sure. Regardless, these shots came out beautifully vibrant and really match what I remember the scene looking like at the time.
The dragon car and a fur-covered bike. At night, when the music moved to the in-land grassy stage, the art cars would also migrate in there. Other than that, the cars were stationary throughout the festival, though. This one was shot on Portra 800.
The back of the dragon had steps where you could climb up onto the back. It made for a nice perch to look over the party, and lots of people climbed up and danced around on it. These last two were also shot on that same roll of Velvia 50.
One thing about the beach location at DHFest was that the beach was huge, like 10x bigger than the space taken up by the party. That gave it a weird bubble feeling where you were in the party but then if you wanted to go to the bathroom or anywhere else, it was a 5+ minute walk through hot sun in a mostly empty nothingness. It was really hot under the sun and the only sun shade was what you brought yourself (hats and umbrellas). I think a big sun shade covering would have really improved how comfortable and enjoyable it felt down on the beach, even if it just covered part of the area. There were two stages, though only one played music at any given time. The beach stage ran during the day and things migrated up to a grassy area at night which was much more comfortable and where I got most of my enjoyment out of the festival.
Colorado Trail ‘21 - Near Durango
This was in the afternoon of the last full day I was on the Colorado Trail last summer - I finished the trail the next day after hiking for a month.
This was in the afternoon of the last full day I was on the Colorado Trail last summer - I finished the trail the next day after hiking for a month.
Early in the day, I'd stopped by a few hikers filling up water and someone shared that it looked like a storm was going to come through that afternoon, which is pretty typical. I managed to make it over the last pass before the storm found me and ended up waiting under some trees for a while waiting for it to go by (it didn't). When it seemed to slow down a bit, I started hiking again, just looking for the first level spot to set up my tent for the night. A bit down the trail, it started hailing and I snapped this next photo.
The white streaks and dots on the trail is hail. One of the nice things about bringing a film camera hiking is that I didn't worry as much about it getting a little wet compared to something digital. I wouldn't have taken this shot if it weren't for that.
My feet were soggy - no - I was soggy. Again. My socks had holes in them. Again. My body hurt in all sorts of different ways. I wanted some rest, but I didn't want it all to end.
When I started the trail, I wasn't sure I could do it - spending a month in all the elements, hiking at elevation 500ish miles, hitchhiking into town to resupply on food. And in the end, I wasn't sure I could go back.
We're capable of a lot more than we think.
Colorado Trail ‘21 - Molas Lake
Last summer, I thru-hiked the Colorado Trail and brought along my Olympus OM-1 35mm film camera. Here’s a few shots from a roll of Kodak Ultramax 400 which I exposed in the miles surrounding Molas Lake.
Last summer, I thru-hiked the Colorado Trail and brought along my 35mm film camera, an Olympus OM-1, and 22 rolls of film (all Kodak films, Portra, Ektar, some Ektachrome). Since then, I’ve been slowly going through it all, scanning the film and trying to decide what I want to do with my favorite shots of the bunch.
Here’s a few shots from a roll of Kodak Ultramax 400 which I exposed in the miles surrounding Molas Lake. I’d shipped my final resupply box to the campground there, and actually ended up unexpectedly getting a free shower there when I picked up the box! Apparently, the mother of another thru-hiker had come through a few days before and left like $50 to pay for showers for unsuspecting thru-hikers who stopped by. Some lovely and much appreciated trail magic :)
This was actually the only roll of this type of film that I packed for the trail. The negatives are labeled “Kodak GC 400” on the edges, what I understand as a little view in to the lineage of this film stock from earlier “Kodak Gold” branding. The film has a warmer characteristic, and I got some lovely results in a variety of weather and light settings, from blue sky golden hour sunsets to overcast mid-afternoon, to ominous stormy skies. That warmer color profile often gives me a feeling of nostalgia for the photos we took on the family camera growing up, since we likely used similar Kodak Gold films back then.
A lot of the other hikers I’d been around had planned their last stop for Silverton. A few miles before the Molas Lake campground, the trail passed over the Silverton - Durango rail line and hikers could flag down the train to get a ride into town (and pay for the ride when they get on). That sounded fun, but I didn’t have enough time for a big diversion like that, so I was glad that I’d just shipped a box to the campground, which was right off the trail.
The view from Molas Lake was gorgeous, and the blue sky weather gave a lovely sunset. I camped a bit outside the campground behind some trees with a nice view of the mountains.
Chasing a rainstorm going up over a pass the day after my Molas Lake resupply. I joked with some other hikers just on the other side of this pass that they could thank me for the fact that the rain hadn’t yet hit us as I’d done the “sunshine dance” for us all - I put on my rain gear before it started raining, which usually means the rain won’t ever materialize and you’ll just hike in your steamy rain gear. Once you take off the gear and stash it back into your bag, though, that’s when it’ll surely start to rain.
Looking back at these photos leaves me feeling nostalgic for the trail. I felt so alive in my body while long-distance hiking in a way I’ve never quite been able to catch anywhere else. Feeling the rain come and go, the temperature shifts, hiking 30 miles bathing in the dry hot sun then going over a pass into another biome’s inescapable sogginess for another 30 miles - I was living in the world like the animal I am, not just teleporting between climate-controlled blandness. Sure, the 70-and-sunny perfect sunsets are photogenic and beautiful in themselves, but I found myself time and again more enraptured by the rain, the wind, the frightening lightning, and that soft smell of sagebrush baking under a relentless sun.
Rollerskating and Bonsai and LA
I stopped in LA and stayed with my friend Trina for a few days while I was on my way down through California headed to the Desert Hearts festival.
I stopped in LA and stayed with my friend Trina for a few days while I was on my way down through California headed to the Desert Hearts festival. One evening, we got some food at a restaurant her friend Hether worked at (I forget the name!). We had some really tasty veggie food and a lovely drink Hether made for us that she described as “a hug but on the inside” - some sort of Chai-adjacent concoction that was exactly what I didn’t know I needed. We hung out for a bit and Hether invited us to join for rollerskating the following night.
That next day, Trina and I were talking about Polaroids and she dug out her old Fuji instax wide and, after popping in some fresh AA batteries, we were excited to see that it still worked! I threw on some of my festival clothes and we went skating and she took these fun shots with it. I really liked the little rainbow scribbles pattern on the carpet there too. It felt really nostalgic.
Another afternoon, Trina took me to the Huntington Gardens over in Pasadena. I really enjoyed the sunshine, coming from one of the coldest and dreariest Seattle winters in a while. I always feel 100x better emotionally after spending some time in the sun.
There was a large Bonsai garden that we walked through. While we were walking around it, we stumbled upon a guy who was talking to his friends about the Bonsai who really seemed to know a lot about it (he had a Bonsai sensei and everything!). We stopped and listened in to his “tour” for a bit. He was really excited about which trees were “out” today — I didn’t realize they changed which trees were on display, but it does make sense that they can change it up given that they’re all in these little movable display pots.
The one on the far left is apparently the grand-tree of a famous bonsai lineage. I forget the name of it, but I think I remember it being a tree descended by one by Peter Chan, author of the Bonsai Bible. The guy pulled up a wikipedia page for it, which I thought was awesome.
That last photo is Trina’s dog Fozzie chasing her neighbor and bff Luna. They stopped by one afternoon while I was there and I think that pic pretty much sums up the experience, haha 🌪🌪.
Overall, I really enjoyed LA. Trina was a lovely host and friend and I would definitely visit again. The city is enormous and I felt like I got a taste for only the tiniest sliver of it.
Black Rock Desert
I stopped by the Black Rock Desert and spent a night camped out on the Playa on my road trip back up to Seattle.
I stopped by the Black Rock Desert and spent a night camped out on the Playa on my road trip back up to Seattle.
Here’s the van parked out on the playa just a few minutes after sunrise. This was shot on the same roll of Portra 160 VC that I used to shoot the Joshua Tree photos in the last post. Both sunrise and sunset out on the playa were gorgeous - it’s such an beautiful and interesting environment. There was a high wind advisory for the area and a steady 15-20mi wind was blowing all through the night and into the morning. I ended up sleeping in the backseat with the top down since the wind gusts during the night had me worrying about how much the pop top could handle. It seemed sturdy but I didn’t want to risk it, since it’s basically a sail on top of the van when its up.
I was the only person out on the playa, and only person I saw on most of the drive to/from the area as well, which I enjoyed. In the morning just after sunrise, I saw two deer walking across the playa maybe a quarter-mile away. I wonder where they were going - maybe to one of the hot springs on the other side?
I was hoping to spot some stars during the night but the visibility wasn’t great. There were breaks in the clouds, but there must’ve been too much dust and stuff in the air since the stars weren’t overly bright. I’ve seen brighter night skies out in CO and on the Olympic peninsula.
These were taken with a Fujifilm Instax Wide. I picked it up just before the trip and really like the photos it takes. The wide format lends itself to some really nice framing and is big enough for my eyes to actually make out whats in the image, unlike the Instax Mini which I think is annoyingly small and hard to see. The colors and automatic exposure also seemed to hold up really well with varying lighting conditions, which I was pleasantly surprised about. Earlier in the trip, I had tried to take a few photos in the evening in what looked like decent-enough lighting where basically nothing turned out, so I was worried it could only work with full daylight, but outdoor twilight seemed fine out on the playa at least.
The van and playa sure are photogenic. They look good together :P
kuker.art.car @ DHFest
One thing I’ve enjoyed about Desert Hearts fest and Dirtybird campout are the art cars that they attract and let in. The @kuker.art.car (look em up on ig) was at Desert Hearts festival this year and I enjoyed chatting with the folks behind it - a cool and friendly group of Bulgarian burners from LA. This is the second incarnation of this art car and its styled as an ancient pagan Bulgarian Ritual Dancer to scare away evil spirits and provide good harvest, health, and happiness :)
One thing I’ve enjoyed about Desert Hearts fest and Dirtybird campout are the art cars that they attract and let in. The @kuker.art.car (look em up on ig) was at Desert Hearts festival this year and I enjoyed chatting with the folks behind it - a cool and friendly group of Bulgarian burners from LA. This is the second incarnation of this art car and its styled as an ancient pagan Bulgarian Ritual Dancer to scare away evil spirits and provide good harvest, health, and happiness :)
I found it fun watching folks at the festival warm up to it and grow more comfortable interacting with it more and more throughout the weekend.
The first afternoon, I climbed up onto the back with my camera looking to see if it lended any interesting perspectives that might catch my eye for a photo. While there, I had a lovely time chatting with Stani while sitting on the back of it as the whole chassis bounced around from the folks dancing up top. She’d helped build the art car and it was fun to hear about how it was built, the background behind it, and what their hopes were for it.
The front mouth area inside is a cushy bed - as people warmed up to it and realized they could interact with it, I enjoyed the funny sight of seeing lounging legs sticking out of the mouth as the whole car sort of bounced around like it was munching on them.
She said they started building this second version of it back in 2020 and were taking it on a tour of a few festivals to get some test driving in before the group takes it to Burning Man this year. I didn’t get any photos of the car at night, but it was also fun - there’s lots of lights on it and the disco-ball eyes light up and bounce around.
After chatting with Stani, I offered a group photo of folks who brought the art car to the festival together using some OneInstant peel-apart film I’d brought with me. I shot this with my Mamiya RB67 with a Polaroid back. The way this peel-apart film works is that there’s a vertical reservoir of developer chemicals on the right-hand side of the photo paper and after you expose the paper in the camera, you pull it out through some rollers that smears the chemicals across the paper. I’m not sure if its an issue with my particular polaroid back’s rollers or just the nature of the OneInstant paper itself, but it always seems to get these incomplete smears. I like the effect, though. If I wanted perfect photos, I’d just shoot something digitally :)
There’s something about the physical process that makes this shot so interesting to me. The result is delicate, incomplete, and almost fleeting in a way that feels somehow a fitting medium for capturing a fraction of the moment I shared with them. After this photo, we spent some time dancing and chatting about our plans on the playa this year - maybe I’ll track them down again there and gift them another polaroid print of the art car at its intended home.
The sun was hot and intense out there on the beach with my pale Seattle skin, and I was happy that I managed to not get crispy. There were a lot of fun sun parasols around and it made me want one.
As I was sitting and chatting with Stani, the dude up top with the orange and green balloons (filled with nitrous oxide) climbed up. He had a yellow glass goblin head pendant around his neck which I recognized from the Glass Alchemy borosilicate glass color demo posters by Mike Shelbo. Not really my personal style vibe but I thought it was cool seeing one of those in the wild (they’re bigger than I expected, maybe 3-4 inches across), so I tried to chat with him about it. He tried to quiz me on who the artist was - I couldn’t remember the name off the top of my head but offered how I recognized it from the Glass Alchemy color demos poster and thought it was cool seeing one in person. He took a sip off his balloon, let out a whip-it laugh and just kind of stared at me. alright, good chat, haha. I went back to chatting with Stani and we both chuckled and felt like the goblin face pendant was the kind of evil spirit that the car was supposed to be warding away.
One thing I enjoyed about bringing the Mamiya to the festival was that it was a really slow process to take a photo. I had it on a tripod and it took quite a while to go through finding an angle, focusing, taking out the light meter to figure out exposure, standing around, deciding not to take the shot, chatting with folks, measuring the light again, trying to take a shot but the shutter won’t press, realizing I forgot the dark-slide in so i missed it, and repeat haha. The whole process makes it pretty obvious that you’re taking a photo and the slowness of it seems to invite people into being more candid than when they realize they’re in the frame of an instagram story or with a fancy DSLR pointed at them.
“Are you taking a photo?”
“I’m thinking about it - I like this perspective looking out over the beach from here, still getting the camera set up”
“Am I in the way?”
“Uh, you’re in the frame but I wouldn’t say you’re ‘in the way’, just do your thing :)”
“Ok… maybe I want to be ‘in the way’, though ;)”
Joshua Tree
My first stop on my road trip home after the Desert Hearts Festival was Joshua Tree National Park. I drove out there from the festival as a nice stop to decompress in quiet nature after such a fun sensory overload :) I spent one night there and went for a hike the next morning before it got too hot.
My first stop on my road trip home after the Desert Hearts Festival was Joshua Tree National Park. I drove out there from the festival as a nice stop to decompress in quiet nature after such a fun sensory overload :) I spent one night there and went for a hike the next morning before it got too hot.
This was just behind my site at Jumbo Rocks campground. The sun was setting so I climbed up onto these particular jumbo rocks to catch a look at the warm sunset colors. I saw these two watching it for a bit then they stood up to take photos of each other and I snapped this. I like taking photos of other people taking photos.
Feeling pretty tired, I basically just went right back to the van and crashed after this, having successfully taken a sunset photo, haha.
This was the first shot on an old roll of Portra 160 VC 120 film (expired 2010) given to me by my friend Jon. I used my Mamiya RB67 with a 90mm lens.
I love how the sunset colors came thru on this film. The darker shade in the sky on the left hand side of the frame is some sort of artifact on the film. Not sure if its a color shift from the age of the film or an artifact of processing it. I think it adds to the frame, as it nicely aligns with the people, drawing your eye over to them.
As I composed the frame, I aimed to line the people up to be a similar distance from the edge of the frame as the peak on the right hand side as that felt like a nice balance to my eye. The edge tension of the dark yucca on the right also adds some depth in a way that I liked.
I’d never seen a Joshua Tree before - they’re quite alien looking. They’re also pretty sharp, I scraped my leg on one while hiking and was surprised how firm those spikes are! ouch! There’s these little fruit-looking bunches on them (they look sort of like banana clusters) and I wondered what they do - do they fall off and does something eat them? I didn’t have service and didn’t look it up.
I did a short hike up to the top of some hill I forgot the name of and don’t feel like looking up, haha. It was fairly windy and kept blowing off my hat, so I goofily hiked a lot of it with my hand on top of my head. My other hand was holding my camera bag strap and I laughed to myself thinking I looked like I was hiking while doing that ‘pat your head and rub your belly’ thing. The landscape was pretty and very interesting to me - I always find it amazing that anything can live out in the desert like that. The Joshua Trees dot the landscape along with various bushes and cacti with occasional outcroppings of these giant boulder piles.
As I started the hike, two people (mother and son?) started on the trail just before me and were bickering with each other in a really nasty way. It sounded like the mom dragged the son (who looked like mid 20s - not young!) out for the hike and they were going back and forth on whether it was 3 miles or only 1.5, calling each other nasty names and really ripping in to each other. I knew it was 3 mi round-trip but I kept my mouth shut. Listening to them was such a shock after coming from the festival where people were so friendly, playful, and really trying to lift each other up. “holy shit, these people are so miserable! yikes!” I thought to myself then trail ran past them so I didn’t have to listen to it anymore. It made me wonder if they realized how nasty they were being to each other or if they were so caught up in their dynamic that it didn’t even register.
A few minutes later, the next folks further up the trail let out such a bubbly giggling laugh as one of them dramatically acted like they were falling over onto an overlooked cactus as they tried to take a photo next to a yucca plant. I stopped and offered to catch a photo of them together on their phone during which they let me in on their little secret: “It is such a lovely day out here today, don’cha think?”
I agreed.
It was fun to drive the van out here on some of the dirt roads and check out all the Joshua Trees. Some of them are pretty big!
After spending the morning driving around a bit and doing that hike, I continued on my way back north. But first, I had to pay to get out of the park! When I got to the entrance to Joshua Tree National Park the day before, I drove up to the little ranger booth with cash in hand for entry only to find out that they didn’t accept cash - card or apple pay only. Hmm, I reached over for my wallet and realized it was somewhere in the back of the van. Not wanting to hold the line up, I asked if I could pull over to find my card and he kindly said “Oh, just pay on your way out, not a problem at all!” That was nice.
So as I’m getting ready to make my way out of the park, I stop to find my wallet. The inside of the van was a bit discombobulated after a weekend at the festival, so I wasn’t sure where it was. I generally didn’t bring it in with me into the event since I didn’t need it in there, so I started searching through where I remembered placing it in the van and couldn’t find it. I searched for about half an hour, taking everything out of my backpack, the dufflebag I’d put my clothes in, glove compartment, I popped the up top to check around the sleeping area up there… no wallet! uh oh…
Thinking back to the festival, I remembered sitting down during the last 30 mins of the last set looking out over the lake. My phone didn’t sit comfortably in the pocket of pants I was wearing when sitting, so I’d taken my phone out of my pocket. Then a guy came and sat behind me then started talking at my back - he wanted to have a conversation and also wasn’t listening to much of anything I was saying - “him: where are you from? - me: I drove down from Seattle - him: Chicago! I love Chicago! - me: No, Seatt… him: have you ever been to X (place in Chicago)” lol, then he started venting to me about how some volunteers hadn’t shown up to their shift, blah blah. I humored him for a bit, validating his venting - “yeah, that is shitty that they didn’t show up for their shifts. Yeah, the staff definitely puts in a lot of work to put the festival on. You guys work really hard, I see it, and I really appreciate it.” Seemed like he needed to be heard… and simultaneously wasn’t listening to me. Doing emotional labor for an inebriated stranger wasn’t really what I wanted out of the last 15 mins of the last set of the festival, haha, so after declining his offer for a bump of coke, I kindly exfiltrated myself to go back up into the good vibes, dance a bit and, be part of the collective closure of the last 72 hours of music and dancing and good times.
That’s all a round about way to get to this bit - about 20 feet after walking away, I realized that I’d left my phone just sitting on the grass there by that dude! I hopped back and picked it up and all was well. Now, looking back though, I’m thinking “oh no, did I leave my wallet sitting on the grass by that dude there and just walk away from it at the festival?” The wallet seemed nowhere to be found in the van. Luckily, I had a decent amount of cash with me as a backup but it’d still be a nightmare if I’d lost my cards, ID, etc.
Finally, after finally resigning myself to the looming disaster of the lost wallet, I checked the pocket of a pair of shorts that I didn’t think I’d worn and there it was! Whew! What a relief. I sat back in the van and just stared at the ceiling for a minute, sighing in relief and chuckling to myself. I’d worn the shorts for like 5 minutes total on the trip before deciding they were too warm and then my wallet lived in that abandoned pocket for the entirety of the festival. What a strange and different experience my wallet had that weekend than I did.
Wallet now in hand, I made my way out of Joshua Tree National Park and, true to my word, paid on exit. The same guy who waved me through yesterday was there and seemed confused that I was asking to pay on the way out - he must’ve forgotten about his little kindness the day before.
Overall, I loved the park. A beautiful and unique environment. It was quiet, scenic, and a nice relaxing spot to stop, decompress, and think back on all the little memories of the festival.
It was quiet warm and comfortable
Back in the late 90s, my Grandma Joyce filled up a little notebook with different thoughts, reminiscences, details about her life and family. I’ve always connected with this one and often think of that last line while I’m out hiking - Nature makes me feel comfortable.
“My favorite time to myself - during the summer when the grass was tall in the field next to my home, I loved walking into the field, laying down face up and letting the sunshine cover me. It was quiet warm and comfortable. If there were clouds I'd watch them slowly glide by.
I'm sure the best part was noone was telling me what to do next. It was just me. Don't remember doing any "big" thinking. I was not figuring out my life, nor what I wanted to eat etc. Nature made me feel comfortable.”
Back in the late 90s, my Grandma Joyce filled up a little notebook with different thoughts, reminiscences, details about her life and family. I’ve always connected with this one and often think of that last line while I’m out hiking - Nature makes me feel comfortable.
I took these photos while hiking the Colorado Trail this summer 2021 during Segment 22 a few miles from the highest point on the trail. I’d stayed in Lake City the night before at the Raven’s Rest hostel with a great group of other hikers I’d been hiking with off and on for a hundred miles or so. I’d gotten a ride back up to the trail (thanks Cub!) and spent the morning hiking alone under the bright blue sky. This was probably early afternoon as the clouds started to condense.
It’s been a few months of life back off the trail and I’m still slowly going through all the film I shot along the hike (22 rolls!). I really enjoy looking through the photos now with a few months distance as the images immediately take me right back to the trail, right right back to the moment I snapped the frame. That first cloud had just passed over and dropped me into shadow for the first time all day. I looked up as a small flow of breeze curled around and I took in a deep breath feeling the bliss of the day fill my lungs. I was not figuring out my life, nor what I wanted to eat - I was just living life at 3mph and that was enough. Nature made me feel comfortable.
