Story Time - White Sands

One of the things being in the Army gave me was an opportunity to travel.  And while I didn’t always have my camera gear with me, sometimes I did.  Check in to find out about one of the most incredible 24-hour periods (note - I did not say “day”) of photography I’ve ever had.

My “training” period in the military lasted quite some time, well over a quarter of my service in the Army.  It wasn’t enough that I had to spend 50 weeks, 6 hours a day, 5 days a week (not including holidays and breaks [or study time]) in classes learning a language (fortunately in Monterey, California), I had to spend a spell in Texas and then in Massachusetts to complete my training before I reported to my first real duty station.  

My Russian Basic Course ended in early 1989.  We’d been informed that we had a little under 30 days between graduation and the beginning of the next course, and that we could stay for up to a week in Monterey before reporting to Texas, go directly to the new post, or take some time off - if you had the leave time - and then report.  Since I had my 4x5 gear with me at the time, some accumulated leave time and a vehicle to boot, I decided that I’d plan a trip stopping at some of the classic photography locations between California (where I’d photographed at Edward and Brett Weston’s home turf) and Texas.  I planned a 10-12 day trip that would take me to Yosemite and then up through southern Utah and back down through New Mexico before reaching western Texas, and still get me there a week before classes started.

The plan went out the window before the trip even got started.  A couple of days after graduation, the company office got a call from some of the soldiers (those that had used all of their vacation time) that had flown directly to Texas.  In short, there wasn’t three and a half weeks before the next class started, there was about a week.  And the next class after that was a month later.  In other words, either get your butt in Texas quickly, or you’ll be doing grunt work for a month or more in Texas before classes began.

Time to regroup.  I tossed out the wider-ranging part of my trip and focused on two locations - Yosemite and White Sands New Mexico.  That would be doable in a week with a day at each location and driving time - if I really pushed it.  Then I checked the weather forecast and realized that things were worse than I imagined. A winter storm was coming in a couple of days.  As I looked up the forecast for the Sierra Mountains, I realized that Yosemite was out of the question - it was expecting a couple of feet of snow over several days. I could get snowed in and wind up reporting late to Texas.  I then realized that, even with dropping Yosemite, my plans to cross over the mountains instead of drive around them was also threatened by the storm unless I left sooner than I’d planned.  You can guess what I did.

The first day of driving was not bad.  I made a stop to photograph in the rolling hills as I cut through the San Benito Mountains, and again to photograph the raging Kern River.  But by the time I got to the outskirts of Las Vegas the wind was howling.  The next morning, clouds were everywhere and it was raining.  A few hours of driving later, I got ahead of the storm, but not the wind.  The Toyota van I was driving was constantly buffeted by winds and driving was an exhausting experience.  At one point there was nothing I could do as a giant 5-foot  tumbleweed came blowing across the interstate only for me to blast it into smithereens at 65 mph (it was either the tumbleweed or me under a semi . . . I chose the tumbleweed).  

I drove until I hit some small town past Tuscon,Arizona that had a hotel.  Between the winds, the rain and early winter sunset, I figured it was smarter to play it safe and hunker down with a good night’s sleep.  There was unlikely to be an early morning photography opportunity. Face it, trying to operate a 4x5 camera in those winds would have been near-impossible, even with a heavy wooden tripod.  I saw my grand photography trip slipping through my fingers.

The next morning didn’t look promising.  Forget the rain, there was ice and snow on the ground.  Fortunately out on the highway the ice was melted by the truck traffic and I started making good time.  Even better, I had a tail-wind that wasn’t blustery and clouds that were starting to break up.  Not only had the storm front passed, it seemed like the storm itself had passed.

By the time I hit White Sands a few hours later, the skies were clear and, amazingly, the wind had suddenly died down.  As I pulled into the park it was a wonderland - fresh snow on the desert white sands.  I pulled up to the ranger station for a map and  I was told that the back half of the park was closed, but would probably open the next morning.

I drove in as far as I could go (there were already a few cars there) grabbed my gear and hiked about a quarter mile into the park until I couldn’t see any footprints on the ground and started photographing. Also, I worked my way away from the parking area to ensure I had untracked snow and sand to work with. Although I heard voices and could see people in the distance between me and the parking area, I was alone, except for one guy who walked out to see what I was doing.  Amazingly, the high winds had blown away all the footprints and I was in heaven.

It was the first of only two shooting sessions in my 4x5 years where I photographed all of the sheet film I had loaded into my 4x5 film holders.  Most of it was black and white film, but I had a couple of sheets of color negative film loaded and, instead of doubling up the exposures (I usually make a backup exposure in case of dust or a scratch), I made two separate, single exposures.  The first was of a particularly lovely plant, snow and sand formation (I have a B&W version of it as well).  I held the second for the sunset I knew I would be photographing.   

I made several black and white exposures at sunset, and then pulled out the last sheet of unexposed color film as the last days of sunlight grazed the landscape..

With all of my film exposed, I headed back towards the parking area, tracking back through areas flooded with footprints made by people who came to see the sands in snow. By the time I got to the car, darkness and the cold had set in.

I drove into Alamogordo and opted for fast food and the first cheap hotel I could find.  The one question I asked at the check in counter was, “Does the bathroom have a window?”  “No, why?”  “I’ve got some photographic film I need to load and I need to do it in darkness.” “Uh, . . . ok. You want the room?”  I took it.

Once in the room, I ate, then unload, cleaned and reload all of my film holders.  This time with all black and white film.  Then I took a shower, set the alarm clock and fell fast asleep.

The next morning I was at the gate when it opened and, sure enough the second gate was open too.  So I drove as far into the park as I could (eventually hitting another closed gate) and started over again.  This time there were photographs of lizard footprints on sand and snow in addition to sand and snow and plants.  It was an untouched photographic paradise.

Just before noon, it became the second and final time I’d exposed every sheet of film I had loaded.  I hiked back to the car, thankful for two incredible half-days of photography, and headed south.

By mid-afternoon, I reported for duty.  Two days before classes were to begin.