So the brains of the family, my little sister, comes out to Asheville to smell the mountain air, commune with the youngsters in the way all aunts should, bearing sugar and too much of it, with the sole intention of adding more stress to the first week of school than one man should have to endure. Little did she care as she was out of the Texas heat on her way to a 10 week fellowship at Emory in the nursing department. Its not like she would have to deal with the sugar crash after she left so what the hell--anyway she says she wants to go into the Smokies. Nevermind the masses have come to the collective Intel that this will be the last week that they can decsend on Cades Cove in unison for that exhilarating one and a half mile per hour exhaust filled look there's a deer joyride. So being the dutiful big brother I say sure, I haven't pulled my fingernails off in a while, lets hit it. But lo and behold I had a moment of clairvoyance and I decide to make good on the promise I made to myself when I bought THE DON (as in Quixote, a 20 x 24 monstrosity) that I wouldn't allow the beast to reside only in the studio or within dropping distance of the car. Nay, it would take some effort but I would take him places, allow him to see the world, make me a better photog that I would be without him (where were all you appugers when I needed you to tell me bigger doesn't make me better, oh wait yeah you were there 1000 strong, I just ignored you). So I delay the trip by 45 minutes accumulating the three holders, (only two of which are film holders, the other being a wet plate holder which you would have thought I would have left behind, but hey I already copped to who was the brains of the family), Ries building, er tripod, meter, King size bedspread that doubles as my darkcloth, 6 lb lens and photo dolly that was designed to go from the car to an airconditioned studio with a Mamiya RZII loaded up and head for Laurel Falls with its paved trailhead listed as moderate in the Smoky Guidebook. First of all, lets make an effort guidebook writers to handle our rating system with a bit more responsibility-- the 800 ft elevation gain over the one and a third mile doesn't rate as moderate as least with over a hundred pounds of gear (I'm quite sure that it is not over 800 feet and that it only felt like it but until someone here takes the time to correct me it was over 800 hundred feet. If you do feel such an urge to correct me please go ahead and save everyone else the trouble of posting and go ahead and correct all my spelling errors, grammatical snafus's and an annoying habit of digressing with far too many parenthetical tendencies). So back to my promise to myself--I load up the dolly noticing rather blatantly that its buckling a bit at the knees there in the parking lot and head out with my sister looking on like 'thank God I didn't turn out this stupid', and we head out. Some might have turned back when they were gawked at, some might have taken heed with comments launched at them within the first 200 yards 'that you aren't going to take all of that UP THERE ARE YOU!. Some might have clued in when halfway up they were told that there wasn't any camping allowed up there. Not me, I merely dropped an occasional line of 'hey I think I saw a bong get dropped down the trail about 300 yards' and enjoyed my new found silence. You might even be thinking to yourself, man I've been up to Laurel Falls in September, its hot and after a summer of hot humid weather its not that full of water, in fact its could almost be considered a trickle of water more than a waterfall. Not me I had a promise to keep and a cliche to add to the gunbelt so onward I marched, pushed, grunted, almost lost over the edge, realized in every pothole that our national parks are grossly underfunded and reached the top drenched and looking at 15 faces that seemed to say 'yeah we were expecting a little more water too, but at least we weren't so damn stupid to have pushed all that up here'. My sister laughed and asked if I was going to take the picture anyway.
And to my everlastin' everlovin' pride I said no.
Discipline baby, discipline. I wasn't about to add salt to my open wound with MORE disappointment by developing a worthless negative. Yeah I know I can hear it now;
a real photographer would be able to find something and see a picture by taking the time to look past the obvious.
If I have established anything in the previous 10 minutes of reading its that I'm not a real photographer so that should answer that question for you.
Been chasing any windmills lately in your ULF pursuits? More importantly I hope you have a Sancho to haul your gear.
later,
Zebra
And to my everlastin' everlovin' pride I said no.
Discipline baby, discipline. I wasn't about to add salt to my open wound with MORE disappointment by developing a worthless negative. Yeah I know I can hear it now;
a real photographer would be able to find something and see a picture by taking the time to look past the obvious.
If I have established anything in the previous 10 minutes of reading its that I'm not a real photographer so that should answer that question for you.
Been chasing any windmills lately in your ULF pursuits? More importantly I hope you have a Sancho to haul your gear.
later,
Zebra
in the afternoon.
Put that on the list as no. 21. No. 22 is when I'm down to 1 spare it's really time to turn around and begin the descent.
