Death Valley

Chattering over washboards the size of coffee mugs, I continued the Syncro's acceleration from second to third. 35 mph. 40, the silverware in the cabinet behind me stopped chattering. 45, the coins in the ash tray quieted down.

"I think the sign said, "Dust Control, 15 MPH," my cousin, Nikko, grinned, peering up from the Delorme Gazetteer of Southern California.

"We would separate our retinas, if we did that."  I swerved around a six inch pothole onto the soft shoulder.  "A teacher in high school taught me this trick on a field trip to central Oregon.  He would go 50 in a fucking school bus on one lane dirt roads. In-Sane... Instead of going up and down with every bump,  we are cruising over the top of them.  Plus it's more fun."

"Looks like it, just don't tweet and drive."

"Oh noo, this is a two handed, white knuckle job."

In the distance, the straight-away took a sharp turn up a hillside, switchbacking towards a pass, some 1500 feet off the valley floor.

"Where are we camping tonight? I asked, looking back at the dust plume behind us and the warm light on the opposite hills.

"In the next valley.  The Park Service map says this shit dead ends in two miles, or so, but we'll take that pass into the next valley."

"Party on Wayne."

A #vanlife kitchen.

Sunrise.  Dirt roads, like in the foreground, are standard travel.

Nikko taking in the view.

Translation  from Park Service Square, this means, "Good things lay ahead."

Flash flood's a'comin'.

Red roads.

Ribeye with asparagus and bacon. Dinner.

Sunset on the Saline Valley.

Flat.

4:52 PM.

Open country.

An abounded mine turned rust pit turned shooting range.

Death Valley comes to life when you head off the main roads, away from the Cruise America RV's, fanny packs and gas stations with scorpion lollipops.   Various jeep and hiking trails crisscross the park and surrounding BLM land, exposing remote areas.  This access combined  with December's short days and relatively cool temperatures keep the park quiet.  For four days,  Nikko and I explored the area, and encountered 5 other groups.  Some things are better off season.

Here are some more links,

Death Valley (Picasa).

A Skate Sesh with Mike Vallely

"Want to go on a skate mission after the rain clears?" the email from Mike Vallely read.  I checked it twice.

Stumbling to respond, I tapped "Absolutely.  When and where?" on the screen of my broken iPhone and pushed send.

I met Mike V. at the Goruck Ascent in early September  after growing up watching  videos of him skate places like the Brooklyn Banks and his parts in the various iconic skate videos like, In Search of the Animal Chin.  For those unfamiliar with Mike's body of work, he's been a pro skateboarder for 25 years and has worked on a handful of other projects ranging from a cameo in The Hangover to a career as a semi pro hockey player. Few are cut from his cloth.  On the Ascent, we chatted for a few hours while hiking on an especially grueling two day summit.  Back at base camp, we exchanged contact info and then went our separate ways.

Last week, I made my way back to LA and looked Mike up.  We exchanged a few emails and settled on skate mission in his hometown of Long Beach.   Meeting at Mike's house, we hopped into the Syncro with veteran filmer Mark Nisbet and set out to one of Mike's favorite spots, a bank on the LA River.

Parking the van a few blocks away, we locked up and headed towards the spot, crossing a bridge before dropping down past a corrall of horses.  After a few pushes, it was evident why Mike was still skating after 25 years of trials and tribulations in a sport notorious for burning people out.  He has the energy of a teenager,  easily ollieing over a curb with three boards in his hands and a backpack on.  I caught my back truck.   Every block or so, he looked back with a genuine smile, making sure I hadn't been jacked by a vato or- more likely- caught my front wheels in a gap in the pavement.   It didn't look like a job.

Regardless of the vocation, it's inspiring to see someone doing the thing they love and making it work. Mike is certainly is.

Tail sliding.

Mike was kick flipping this thing. No problem. It's as wide as my surfboard.

Afterbang.

This river, if you could call it that,  eats skateboards and smells like a dirty hot dub.  It almost got mine.

Mike is working on a new board project.  He showed me some of his shapes. They looked great and I can't wait to shred one of them, albeit in no manner resembling Mike.

Kicking and pushing,  doing my best to catch up.

Shadow catching.

Cruising.

After stomping a head high wall ride off the quarter pipe onto the bank, Mike skated over to his pack and checked his phone.  Seeing my window,  I took a few pushes and pumped up the bank backside, some five feet bellow Mike's wheel marks.

"Hungry," he asked looking up.

"Always."

"Lets roll,  it's always good to leave this place with dry boards."

Here are some more links,

Skate Sesh (Picasa),

Mike V.

#Vanlife 3

I go through phases. Some last longer than others, but all benders are intense.  As a rug rat I played  with Legos 24/7 and drooled over the latest offerings in the Lego catalog.  From there,  I graduated into archery.  I lost hundreds of arrows in the woods behind my house.  As a teenager,  all I wanted to do was snowboard.  At 16, I rode over 100 days on Mt. Hood.  Most recently, I have been on a van binge (most of you probably know this already).  I often slam on the breaks while cruising down the road and double back to take a second look at a van or camper parked on the shoulder.   When the waves are flat,  I default to exploring the area I am in for vans parked in their natural habitat.

My interest in them isn't a material fetish.  They cost less than a new Honda and sure aren't glamorous.  It's more philosophical.  I am drawn to their embodiment of attainable adventure and self reliance.  They have  helped people travel to beautiful places for generations and served as base camps for countless activities. I gravitate towards this history and people continuing the same spirit today.

Visually, each van picks up dents, customizations and other anomalies on the road.  No two are a like.  They weren't designed to be works of art, but have developed into them.  Call it industrial beauty.

A very rare BMW powered Vixen in Big Sur.  These things have Turbo Diesels and get 30 MPG's.  Some things were only schemed up in the 80's.

Down by the tracks is way more gnarly than down by the river. Bingen, Washington.

A VW T3 Syncro Dako in Hood River, Oregon.  Some day...

A limo-sized van in Santa Barbara, California.

There are more VW vans in Arcata, California than pot heads.  Well maybe not, but its a close one.

A short bus camper just south of Santa Cruz.

A purple color-changing paint job on a dually camper in Portland, Oregon.  Not for the weak of heart.

This isn't uncharted territory.  People have been into their vans for considerably longer than I have been around.   All sorts of folks have spent time in vans and have photos of their experiences.  To share these photos and my shots, I have been working recently on a new photo project called #vanlife.  Check out the site and use the #vanlife tag on Instagram and Twitter. Bear with me,  I think something good will come of this binge.  It might even inspire someone to take a road trip.

Here are some more links,

#vanlife,

#vanlife (Picasa).

The Impossible Project X Urban Outfitters X Yours Truly

A few months ago,  Urban Outfitters and The Impossible Project got in touch with me about being part of a show in their NYC Space.  As a child of the digital generation, especially with regards to photography, I have grown accustom to bracketing shots and filling up a few 16 gig flash cards on an outing.   I'm a firm believer in doing new things outside of one's habits, so I took them up on their offer. Equipped with a few hundred exposures of their 600 film and a few cameras, I documented two months on the road.   Shooting with film forced me to slow down and consider each shot more.  I really enjoyed it.  Here are a handful of the shots I picked for the show.

Morning sesh in Malibu, CA.

OG Landcruiser, Eastern Columbia River Gorge, WA.

Barbed Wire.

Rear view mirror.

Snow in Underwood, WA.

The Kern River, CA.

Tim reading in the back of the Syncro.

 #vanlife.

Shotgun in L.A.

The Klickitat River, Washington.

Wetsuits hanging to dry in Ventura, CA.

Deer.

A toilet cleaner, as John calls it, in L.A.

The show will be at The Impossible Project Space, 425 Broadway 5th Floor New York New York 10013, from December 15 to January 11, with an opening reception this Thursday.  I won't be making the schlep back to New York for it, but if you're in the area, stop by and have a look.  I'm really pumped to be a part of it.

Here are some more links, Impossible Project X Urban Outfitters,

A Restless Transplant (Facebook).