On Monday, November 15th it was time to get out of Dodge. Spent the night at a Days Inn in Dodge City. Had a real Italian Dinner served by a Mexican family on Sunday night. The plan was to head to the Great Sand Dunes National Park. I wanted to get there early enough to check in and catch the sunset at the park, then plan for sunrise in the park. The ride down Colorado Route 10, where the flat of the plains began to turn into mountains, was spectacular. I stopped several times along the way. I set up in Alamosa. The light was golden, and the shadows were great. I walked out onto the dune field about an hour before sunset. There were quite a few people there. The only disappointment was the dunes were full of footprints. Like photographing a nude with tattoos, it is difficult to capture the sensual qualities in the curves. I remember going to the dunes in Death Valley. There were quite a few footprints in the afternoon, but in the morning all the curves were remade and pure again. I did not have time before dark to go very far into the dune field.

That night I ate at Saint Ives Pub and Eatery. There was the owner behind the bar, a cook, and a young woman on her first night waiting tables. There were four other men in there eating dinner. We all told stories of how we got there. The waitress told of how she came with her family from Mexico to get treatment for her brother’s heart condition. He was able to live sixteen years. She expressed thanks to have been able to have him for that long. She said it would not have been possible if the family had not moved to get his treatment. This brings up my regret about this trip. I wish I had photographed some of the people I met along the way. Next time.

Up before the sun. I had prepared for a quick getaway. I got to the park before the sun. I was the only car in the lot. It was cold. Around 30. I dressed just right figuring in the exertion of climbing up hill in soft sand. The dunes are over 800 feet high. It was very still. There were predictions of gusty winds for later in the morning.

I walked across the long flat part. I climbed about one third of the way up. My heart pounded hard. I was a little short of breath. Finally, I had to stop. I sat. I took in the stillness as my heart calmed down. Nobody around. I wondered if it was a good idea for a 63-year-old man who a year ago was laying in a hospital after getting a quadruple by-pass. I looked up and said I bet the view will be better from up there. I got up and ascended once again.

As I got up to the next ridge, I once again had to sit down and bring my body back to a calmer state. I did photograph along the way. I was now about two-thirds of the way to the top. There were fewer footsteps up here. As I sat, I didn’t think about my heart anymore. I thought if I climbed higher then there probably will be no scars on the dunes. I got up and walked on. I was right! No scars! The photographs were amazing. I was overjoyed. I went all the way to the top without anymore sitting. My body was ready for each step up. I was still mostly alone. It was two hours into the walk. I could see two solitary figures off in the distance. I was energized! I was photographing! It was life at its very best!

I wrote about the past year in my blog called The Scar. It has been a battle, post heart surgery, with the thoughts of death and depression throughout the year. Since this moment in the dunes these feeling have disappeared. They have not returned. My head has been in a much better place. I just keep thinking about all the things I will do and about the pictures I will make.

I stayed at the park until 10:30 when I took off for Taos. I went to Taos in 1993 as part of my honeymoon trip. I photographed San Francisco de Asis Catholic Mission Church back then. I took good images then. Why go back? I wondered if things had changed in thirty years. Would I photograph it differently this time? Had I changed was the underlying question. It turns out things had not changed much; except I could now take pictures inside the church. The afternoon turn overcast, and it was not the color rich place I had photographed before. Nevertheless, there were still great images to be made and like all the great artist before me, I made them.

The next morning, I went back and did another shooting under better light. I went inside this time. The lighting made it difficult to properly record what I saw. With the church and the plaza around it photographed to my satisfaction I left Taos and headed towards Blanding, Utah. I photographed along the way. Routes 84 to 96 to 550, then across Navaho Nation on some Indian roads. Going up to Shiprock on 491 north. Then on 64 to 41 to 162 and finally 191. The one thing I noticed was that along all the roads there was not much trash. The exception was in the Navaho land. The Indian routes were filled with everything from beer bottles to diapers. It was gross.

I landed in Blanding around 7:30. It was dark this time of year. There is not much in this town in November. No restaurants or bars. I ended up having to eat at a Subway because it was the only business open. I hit the road early. I decided not to back track and instead go down route 95 to 261. On 261 there were all these warnings about no trucks or trailers. I did not get this until I started going down a dirt road on the side of a cliff. It was kind of scary. I took a photograph of a white truck going up.

My goal on this day was to drive through The Valley of the Gods. It is seventeen miles on a dirt road through a most amazing landscape. It was a warm sunny day. It took me three or four hours for the drive. I photographed intently. I was again lost in the energy of time, place and beauty.

When done, I had a long trek to Page, Arizona. I stopped at Mexican Hat for a horrid Seven Eleven lunch. I did stop in Monument Valley for some photographing. By this time of day, I was a little tired. I did make it to a hotel in Page in time to watch the Patriots football game. The exploring and energy of these days were filling me with possibilities.