For Leslie’s 60th birthday the gang surprised her with a long weekend at the Turtle Conservancy in Ojai. Before you ask, it was amazing. Both the celebration and the turtles. We really could have spent a week on the compound, but managed to make ourselves at home in just three short days. In fact, I now consider myself a de facto tour guide after cruising through each and every greenhouse and turtle terrarium on the property. I like turtles.
More Ojai after the break. Continue reading
41 minutes. That’s how long our GPS estimated it would take to get to the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve. Problem was, it said 41 minutes every minute after passing Magic Mountain. Without technology or a concept of time, we looked at each other and wondered aloud if we’d made a massive mistake. Perhaps we took a wrong turn? What if we arrive to only patches of dirt? Who visits Lancaster anyway? Or, what if we hang in for five more minutes, round the corner, and stare down at a valley of glorious orange as far as the eye can see?
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What did we do? That was the name given to the Sunday BBQ after Lauren and I made it official. While the question was rhetorical, it didn’t really matter as the younger generation wasn’t ready to answer morning after, about the night before. Luckily, there’s no better remedy than pulled pork and shenanigans.
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So. Many. Activities. For four glorious days six boys descended on one Montana cabin and found all sorts of ways to entertain themselves. Wake surfing. Hatchet throwing. Fly fishing. Beer Die. Mountain biking. Hatchet throwing. Everything became a competition, and this bachelor-no-more took home the ultimate prize. Memories. That and the most wins of the weekend.
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On the eve of a great man’s 60th birthday we took a trip to parts unknown. Inspired by faded images of a bygone era, we attempted to recreate a simpler time in the backwoods of Oregon. A time when boys were scouts. The sea was rough. Yin Yangs were cool. And so was Patagonia.
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It’s been awhile since my last post, and even longer since our trip to Papua New Guinea. That said, the images haven’t gotten any less gorgeous. Or I more modest. The process takes patience, ruthlessness and a fair bit of procrastination—but I’m stoked on the final edit and happy to finally share them here.
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I tend to agree with the photographic philosophy of letting your photos “sit.” I don’t lean them back the La-Z-Boy, peel open a TV dinner and work on their inner spudliness. But i like to let time pass between shooting my images and editing them. In theory the practice removes the excitement of “the moment” and allows for a more objective assessment of the “goodies.” You become lean, mean, and focused on nixing everything in between. Rationale aside, my family would say it’s just an excuse to be lazy. Case in point, Cuba, a killer trip that’s now surfacing after a year of “sitting.” Blame it on the embargo.
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New rule. It is OK to do a late holiday post, as long as said post goes up on another holiday. The logic is sound, and I’m sticking to it. Today we flashback two months to our nation’s independence, and what has now become the traditional pooch-pool-party.
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For a special someone’s birthday, we planned a special little surprise. Though she probably saw it coming (the six hours of airplane mode kind of gave it away), she was blindsided by our Santa Barbara getaway. I on the other hand came prepared with the Pentax 67 ready to capture the weekend with a little color, a little black and white, and a whole heap of California light (see what I did there?)
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I can’t tell you how many times I’ve passed Dusty. You can hear his music before you see him. A soulful riff floating along the outer edges of Washington Square Park. Sometimes it greets you in the morning, lifting you out of a sleepwalking stumble. Other times it meets you after a long day on the clock, a gentle reminder to enjoy what little day you have left. I can’t help but smile when I hear Dusty jamming, and I’ve been carrying around his portrait waiting for the perfect opportunity to pay him back.
More Contact after the break… Continue reading
[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 