Get your kicks...

What a week!

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As many of you know, I spent a little over a week in Tucson attending a seminar and shooting near Davis-Monthan Air Force base, home of the famous Airplane Graveyard.

Leaving Tucson, heading back to Redding, I tried to stay on Route 66 to infuse my soul with a little highway history. Never having traveled that historic highway, I was quite impressed with what I saw. Granted, I only drove a small section of 66 from Flagstaff to Barstow, but it gave me a taste of what it must have been like to travel the country during the courtship days of its love affair with the automobile.

Little towns were scattered along the route, some dead and empty, and some turned into tourist traps complete with gunslingers and donkeys, trying to make something out of what remained of their glory days before Interstate 40 took it all away.

Route 66 is a Nationally designated Historic Highway, and I suppose the DOT intends to keep it that way. With I-40 getting the bulk of the DOT's maintenance attention, Route 66 becomes sort of an afterthought. It's asphalt pavement ran the gamut from patched and tolerable to crumbling away, and many sections of it nearly shook the fillings out of my teeth.

It's one redeeming factor is its beauty as a road. This two-lane artery into the heart of America's past ranged from winding serpentine paths barely large enough for the RV, to long, beautiful straightaways that disappeared into the horizon.

Along those winding turns and long stretches of blacktop are the towns that served as rest stops for the traveler heading to the eden of the West Coast. The towns that drew me away from that mesmerizing highway are not the tourist traps with "antique" signs and t-shirts, but rather the places that are forgotten, the places where a hardy few still eke out a living, and the places where empty buildings stand as a reminder of better days.

One of those places was a town called Amboy. Located in California, southwest of Vegas, in the Mojave Desert, Amboy is one of those little towns that had once had a life, but lost it when the interstate came through. It was an important stopover on the way to the coast, but now sits as nothing more than a quaint photo opportunity for those creative souls with cameras.

From time to time, people will stop in Amboy to take snapshots of Roy's Motel and Cafe, a Route 66 icon, built as a stopover for motorists traveling the highway during the glory days of the motor camp.

Back in the '20s, hotels could be found in most cities and vacation destinations, but when it came to traveling the backroads of America, roadside motels were non-existent. If you had to spend the night somewhere during your trip, you either slept in the car or set up a tent.


Enter the motor camp... For only a few dollars, the four-wheeled traveler and his family could stay the night in a cute little cabin or cottage complete with all the amenities of home. Over time, the motor camps gave way to motels, and another page in history's great book was turned.

Amboy never had a chance to grow much beyond "stopover" town, but it grew big enough to have its own school. Now deserted and abandoned, Amboy School sits right next to Roy's Motel, preserved by the dry desert climate and the absence of time.

(I have to ask the question... is there a difference between deserted and abandoned? The dictionary says they mean the same thing. But do they? Does one imply that people are coming back? Can one empty place be both?)

The desert landscape of the Mojave helps to define the solitude of the Amboy schoolyard, where laughing children have been replaced by tumbleweeds and empty chairs. As you walk through the halls of the buildings, you find textbooks and book reports, some boxed up as if to be moved, and the rest scattered across counters and floors like the last day of school, when, as students, we would empty our lockers and throw our papers in the air in triumph of making it to another summer. But the boisterous laughter bouncing through the halls is gone. The only sounds are the breeze blowing through the open doorways, mice scurrying behind the bookshelves, and the echoes of children playing in the schoolyard, as their voices are carried off by the wind.

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Breakdown...

The drive back to Redding from Tucson was great, until... Thursday night... I pulled over at a park next to Mono Lake to rest for the night. The next morning... engine trouble. The RV had been running fine this whole time, then, all of a sudden, this problem pops up. No warning signs whatsoever. Friday morning I called AAA, Winnebago, Freightliner, and Cummins to help either solve the problem or find a tow to a service center. As it turns out, the engine needs to be diagnosed by a Cummins-certified technician (who hooks it up to a computer), and the nearest Cummins-certified service center is near Reno, Nevada, about 3 hours away.

It took most of Friday to arrange a pickup with AAA. But, the first tow truck that they sent me was way too small, despite them having the size and weight of my vehicle in their notes. So I sat for another day, trying to arrange a tow. I ended up having to call a tow service in Sparks, near Reno, and make arrangements on my own for them to come out and get me. For whatever reason, AAA couldn't do that for me. Nine hours later I'm in Sparks, Nevada waiting for the Cummins service center to open up on Monday.

Fortunately, I still have power, fuel, heat and food, so at least I'm comfortable while I wait. And, as I've mentioned in previous posts, there is good to be found in every situation. And, as if to prove that point, every delay that I encounter has opened another door for me and my project.

I wonder what door this will open...

5 for 5 Friends

Can you name 5 friends? 5 best friends? Do these 5 friends fit the following criteria?

1. Friends for at least 5 years;
2. Friends you haven't seen for at least 5 months but
   
3. have seen several times within the last 5 years;
4. Friends you have spoken to in the last 5 weeks;
5. Friends who would list you as one of their 5 best friends.

It doesn't matter if you email this to everyone. There is no curse that will befall you, nor will spamming your friends with it make you rich. But it is important.

And tell your friends they made the list. They'll appreciate it. That's what friends are for.

-2007 Holt Webb

Airplanes in the Desert

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I'm just sittin' out here watchin' airplanes...
(with apologies to Gary Allen)

This has been fun. Hot, and lots of work, but fun! The planes here at ARM (Aircraft Restoration and Marketing) are in various states of disrepair (having been decomissioned by the military) and are either restored for private use, sold for parts, or scrapped and melted. It's an interesting place -- especially if you like exploring the ghosts of history.

Many of the aircraft here currently are test planes, but there are some that have seen combat. There is at least one C-130 cargo plane with numerous holes, or "wounds" patched up all along its side, ranging from the size of a marble to the size of a basketball. And, there are a couple of military versions of the DC-3, like the one pictured above, whose interiors, cockpits, and electronics are coated with dried mud and debris. My fantasies may be running away with me, but it's fun to imagine that this aircraft's last days might have been spent in the jungle swamps of Southeast Asia where it sat undiscovered for decades before it was finally returned to U.S. soil. That's the kind of feeling this whole place gives me... a fantasy world of dramatic air battles fought in the skies over a hostile world 10,000 feet below.

Now, don't go getting all crazy thinking that I enjoy war. I don't. I would never want to go through the hell that soldiers in wartime go through. And, regardless of the political reasons behind it, I respect them for having the courage to be there, fighting for people like me. But like most young boys (remember, I'm a kid at heart), I also enjoy the drama and hardship that forges heroes out of otherwise normal human beings. And, it's this "hero scenario" that I imagine as I enter the cockpit and climb into the pilot's seat, or stand in the jump door ready to parachute out behind enemy lines. When you walk amongst these icons of freedom, the imagination runs wild. These planes are the real deal, not just some product of the Hollywood dream factory. Real men and women likely fought and died in these aircraft. And it's awe-inspiring to walk among the ghosts of those heroes.

From Route 66 to the Airplane Graveyard

I'm having FUN now!

On my way to Tucson, I stopped at one of the abandoned parts of old Route 66, in Ludlow, California, just east of Barstow. Ludlow isn't necessarily vanishing... it still has a cafe, gas station, garage, etc., and caters to the locals as well as the truckers that pass through, but right next to the thriving businesses lies a reminder of the pre-Interstate days when Route 66 was the only highway crossing the United States.

This little section of Ludlow has (or should I say "had") everything the traveler would have needed: A cafe, garage, gas station, RV park, and a motel. Now the shells of those once thriving businesses bake in the desert sun, waiting for progress to spread from LA to Flagstaff, and from Flagstaff to LA, to meet in the middle, clear the debris and start anew.

From Ludlow, it took another two days to get to Tucson (remember, I'm taking my time to "smell the roses"), and find my way to the "home base" of my Silver Wings series. We're still working on getting permission to photograph at the Davis-Monthan AFB "Airplane Graveyard" in Tucson, but I won't be short of subject matter while I'm waiting. Ben Cooke, one of the team members at Arlene Howard Public Relations got me something almost as good as the Graveyard itself. Ben was able to get me permission to shoot at Aircraft Restoration and Marketing (ARM), a yard right next to the Air Force Base, who specializes in restoring or scrapping decomissioned military aircraft. As I pulled through the gates, the local country radio station was playing a new song by Gary Allen titled, Watching Airplanes. How's that for good timing? You can hear the song on his website, www.garyallen.com.

ARM has have numerous planes on site ranging from the huge C130 cargo carrier to little reconnaissance jets and the famous Air and Sea Rescue Grumman Albatross. And, Linda, who manages the site is so helpful, she is willing to let me wander the grounds on my own and doesn't mind if I climb onto and even into some of the aircraft.

Of course, they require that I sign a waiver releasing them from liability if I hurt myself, but that's a no-brainer. Between me and you, if you knowingly walk into an area where you might get hurt, and you do get hurt, you've nobody to blame but yourself. As they say on the farm, "If you're man enough to wrestle a bull, you're man enough not to cry about it when he stomps the crap out of you."

So, with my hardhat on my noggin, and my cameras in hand, I'll be getting up tomorrow at the crack of dawn to make the most of the desert's beautiful sunrises.

Let's go shoot some planes!

Inventors wanted!

Any inventors out there?

I do a lot of videotaping while on the road. And, much of that is tape of me hiking, biking, shooting, scouting, driving, etc. I have the driving part nailed down with a dash cam and a camera mounted in the passenger seat pointed at me.

What I need now is a simple, hands-free device that will hold a small camcorder pointed at me. I'd like to be able to talk into the camera while I'm hiking.

It has to be lightweight, small, comfortable, and, most importantly, "stabilized". And, by "stabilized", I mean that, as I walk, camera movement (ie. bouncing up and down and side to side) has to be minimized. If you've ever watched a bouncy home movie, you know what I mean.

The camera can be mounted to my side or my chest. Doesn't matter. A quick-release for the camera would be nice, too (ask me for the specs).

Depending on the quality of the product/design, we can talk money, we can talk marketing, or we can talk a combination of the two.

Send me an email: holt@holtwebb.com

Travelin' to Tucson...

The American Society of Media Photographers is having a seminar titled, The Business of Fine Art Photography" in Tucson this week, and I'm going! Since work is still being done on the Land Rover, I figured this is a perfect opportunity to make some headway on this project -- from the business end. And, on top of that, Tucson is where the U.S. military's "Airplane Graveyard" is located, and that's one of the stops on my journey.

If you're not familiar with the Airplane Graveyard, it is essentially a repository for the military's decomissioned aircraft located on a vast acreage of Davis-Monthan AFB Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMARG). If you type in Davis-Monthan AFB into a Google Maps search, then click the "satellite" button, you can see satellite shots of the thousands of planes waiting to either be pieced out or sold for scrap.


View Larger Map



I'm hoping to get permission to walk amongst the planes so I can flesh out my Silver Wings series.

It's a 15 hour drive from Redding to Tucson, but the combination of the seminar and the Air Force Base being in the same vicinity was too tempting to pass up (not to mention that I'd only be sitting around in Redding waiting for the conversion to be done).

Catch-up time...

Howdy, Y'all.

You may have noticed that there haven't been any posts in the past few days. Well, that's because I'm here in Redding again while Shane and I are finishing the Land Rover conversion and beginning on the RV conversion.

I've also been spending a lot of time editing images I shot in Oregon, putting together a "promo reel" for some interested TV producers, and working on getting my website ready.

My friend, Jim Evans, has been working with me on a fantastic website that will ultimately have galleries, blogs, videos, an interactive map, links, resources, and numerous other goodies. And, it is looking great! Phase one should be ready to go live in a few days. I can't wait!

Oh, and to all my friends referring to me as the next Clark Griswold... I love you, too. ;-)

"She's a beaut, ain't she Clark?"

Responsibility of Ownership...

(Click on any image to view it full size.)

Back to Redding...

It was a whirlwind tour through Oregon, so many beautiful things to see and so many perfect examples of Vanishing America. I will definitely be back before this journey is complete.

There are a few things worthy of mention from my drive back to Redding.

1. The wild mustangs will have to wait a week or so until I get the Land Rover prepped and ready to tackle the off-road trails necessary to reach these elusive creatures. (This may take a little while -- the Rover isn't finished yet...)

2. There were so many abandoned and deserted buildings along the way, that I could have spent months documenting them all. And, they're not just in Oregon. I've seen them in California, Texas, New Mexico, Nevada, and Georgia, and I'm sure they can be found all over the country. I hope that as I photograph them, I can get a glimpse into their histories and their heydays. Gas stations, hotels, barns, and even churches top the list of buildings that stand alone as progress passes them by. I look forward to being able to tell their stories.

3. The most obvious example of the changing American landscape was to be found in the numerous lakes and streams that, for lack of proper rains and improper water management, have dried up or are in the last throes of life as a source of water. I know this is happening all over the country (even my hometown of Atlanta may be out of water soon), but it seems to stand out all the more when the parched landscape left behind glows white with the cracked salt of the western lakebed.

---

As I sit pondering the past three weeks, I find myself confident in my ability to capture interesting images, but unsure of how I feel about this changing country of ours.

People have often asked me if I’m an environmentalist. I’m not sure how to answer that. I love Nature. I love to see the massive forests, the wide-open plains, the tree-lined and snow-capped mountains, the swamps and wetlands, the sweeping deserts, and the diversity of the seashore. I love seeing such a vast array of wildlife in their natural habitats, from the tiniest shrew burrowing into the warm earth, and the herds of elk grazing the highlands, to the largest grizzly catching its lunch in a run of spawning salmon. And, I adore the idea of this land as it was two hundred years ago, teeming with uncountable forms of life.

But, that bountiful landscape is only a memory. When humans began to significantly populate this country, Nature was forced to take a back seat while we shaped the land into something more suitable to the way we wished to live. And, it will always be that way. As a very dear friend of mine noted, "Human beings have to come first. Otherwise, we'll become extinct." That may be an oversimplification, but I believe the intent is correct. We put ourselves at the top of the food chain in order to survive. But being at the top of the food chain comes with responsibility.

For, as long as we’re kings of this mountain, as long as we're in charge, we’re changing the face of our nation to meet our needs -- for good or bad, right or wrong. We continue to grow, and we have to continue to accommodate that growth.

In my travels to big cities and small towns, I've talked with people from all walks of life, and have gotten opinions as varied as the species on this earth. But, regardless of who a person was, or where they lived, one common thread ran through the pattern: Management. More specifically, management of the natural environment. In essence, we can continue to grow as a nation, without destroying the planet or restricting our personal freedoms, by managing this land we call our own.

It's very difficult to do, but there has to be balance in order for both man and nature to thrive. And, since we’re the ones taking over, we must be the ones to take that responsibility. We must be the ones to manage the forests so they don’t go up in uncontrollable wildfires. We must be the ones to manage the herds and their range so they don’t overpopulate and destroy their lands and themselves. We must be the caretakers. Not zookeepers, but caretakers.

Long ago, we decided we wanted this country as our own. Well, now we must take responsibility of ownership.


And, as I continue on my journey, I'm constantly exposed to new ideas and perspectives, and listening to other people's opinions, and keeping an open mind, are two of the greatest advantages to making Vanishing America a successful project.

Wild Mustangs...

Brrr...

It was cold in Pendleton, Oregon last night at the Wild Horse Casino (now there's a coincidence). Beautiful, but cold. This is the first time I've seen frost on the grass since I've been on this trip. Winter's a-comin'.

The drive from Pendleton down Highway 395 to Burns (Wild Mustang Country) was spectacular. It was all High Desert with gently rolling hills and yellow grassy plains, sprinkled with a variety of trees -- some still green, but others showing off their beautiful fall colors.

I'll have to make this trek again, in a smaller vehicle, for there were several towns would easily be missed if you so much as blink an eye. And, that's not much of an exaggeration either. One little "town" had only 5 buildings: an empty church, a barn, two houses, and what looked like a garage. Were there room to stop, you'd see some great shots of a truly Vanishing bit of America. But, as it was, the town was so close to the highway, there was nowhere to pull off without getting the RV in the shot. Definitely a stop for next time around.

Most of the little towns weren't this small, though, but they were small enough to get that "Mayberry" feel. This town, on the left, was all by itself in the middle of this huge valley off the 395. There wasn't another town for miles. It seemed so isolated, but yet, so cozy, nestled in among the hills.

Tomorrow, it's off to the BLM lands (Bureau of Land Management) to track down some Wild Mustang herds. Keep your fingers crossed. This could be something special...

Wind Power

On my way through the small town of Arlington, Oregon, I stopped to take a peek at something some folks call clean energy and other folks call an eyesore.

I'm talking about power generating windmills. If you've ever been in Southern California and driven to Palm Springs, you're familiar with the hundreds of elegant white towers pacing the rolling hills of California's High Desert. Even if you've never been to Palm Springs, most of you are familiar with the image: essentially a giant fan on a stick. If you've ever wondered what they're for... well, in simplest terms, they take advantage of the desert's high winds and convert that wind into electricity.

Wind farms are a booming business as America looks for alternative energy sources to reduce our dependence on petroleum. To a lot of people, they're clean, relatively quiet, and much easier to look at than smokestacks and oil rigs. But not everyone shares that opinion. Some folks see them as a blight on the once beautiful rolling landscape and as a danger to bird migrations and nesting habitats.

Either way, as an artist, I find them intriguing -- Beautiful white towers, each with three delicately turned blades, standing tall and proud over the landscape, as if they know their purpose.

I can't argue their merits or their faults. But, like most other forms of alternative energy, they have their pros and their cons. And, like many things in life, sometimes you have to give a little in order to get a lot.