Archive for the 'Camper Van Chuck' Category
Friday, October 24th, 2008
It took a week of traveling, but we’re finally in the woods, nestled in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Hannah and I spent the night in the camper van along the side of a dirt logging road. I’m a little unsure driving as the van lurks along the rutted road, bouncing and swaying. But, the van does fine. We pull over, and we’re surrounded by wilderness. There’s us, the trees and the calls of unknown critters in the distance.
After a hot chili dinner, we plop down on camping chairs, warmed over with a blanket and steaming mugs of hot chocolate and take in the Milky Way and a few shooting stars.
I run the heater for about half an hour before we go to bed. The heater uses small one pound propane cylinders and produces heat using a flameless, catalytic process. I’ve heard all sorts of precautions about running propane heaters in a contained area. We run the heater with some care – leave a window cracked open, enlist the guarding nose of a carbon monoxide detector and turn the heater off before going to sleep. The heater lights with a whoosh and a little fireball. A little daring for a little comfort.
The night cools to around 25 degrees Fahrenheit. The van’s pop-up top is lowered to conserve heat. The futon is flipped into a bed. We thread ourselves into mummy style sleeping bags and sleep snug, warm, deep and long.
The next morning, the sun shines bright, lighting up a cold, frost covered landscape. Hannah goads me into a brisk walk down the logging road. Our shoes crunch over frozen sandy ground. By the time we get back to the van, the frost is already starting to disappear. The moment is there, and then it’s gone. Better enjoy it while you’re in it.
We start up the van and drive to trails that wander the coast of Lake Superior. The rest of the day is spent walking in the woods. Feet shuffling over a carpets of fall leaves and soft beds of pine needles. The leaf canopy overhead is awash with maples, leaves bright yellow. Rugged cliffs over seemingly endless water. Waterfalls. A secluded beach. We walk twelve miles and get back to the van just after sunset.
It was a good day.
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Wednesday, October 22nd, 2008
I like being able to see things. I’m extremely near sighted. Without my glasses or contact lenses, the world is a blurry mush, like walking around in one of Monet’s paintings. Each morning, I get to step between these worlds, from the undefined to the crisp as I put my contact lenses on. Once the contacts are in, I mostly take this crisp vision for granted. Except, every couple of months, when I go to the doctor for a glaucoma checkup. Glaucoma is an eye condition that eats away at your vision. It starts at the edges and works its way in. At each of those visits, I go in a little anxious, hoping that I won’t be hearing bad news.
A couple of days ago, I got an irritation in my right eye, so I’ve been wearing my glasses rather than the contacts. That would be fine, except my glasses are a prescription behind. I can mostly see, but not the fine details. I can see fine enough to walk around, but not the subtleties. The details come to a blur just as I reach out to them, like grapes just beyond my reach. I feel disabled. Something vital to the way I make photographs is gone. It’s frustrating.
I’m currently in Port Huron, Michigan, at the beginning of a two month photographic road trip. Rather than taking pictures, I’ve spent the day trying to find an ophthalmologist with an opening in their schedule.
When people view my photographs, sometimes they’ll comment that I have “good eyes”. On days like today, I mourn a little over the goodness of my eyes. It is really good to be able to see. By seeing I get to make pictures and by making pictures, I strive to see the world even deeper.
Two women came to visit once when I was exhibiting my work. One of the women had her arm linked around the other’s as if being guided. As they viewed the photographs, one of the women would pause to comment on each image. “This photograph has several small branches that are dancing around each other. There’s an airy softness, but there’s also crisps bits pink as the lines lead to small flowers.” After a few images, it occurred to me what was happening and I was deeply honored. Her companion was blind. The sighted woman was being her eyes, so that they could both see the photographs. She was, in the truest sense, giving my work to her friend. They had eyes to see.
Update: I got in to see an eye doctor, and everything is fine. He pulled a bit of fleshy growth (ugh!) out of my eye and put me on some antibiotic drops. Contacts can go back in the next morning. Onward to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
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Monday, October 20th, 2008
Last week was a crazy rush of preparations. Hannah and I left Indianapolis on October 17th, 2008 on the Inagural Camper Van Chuck road trip. We spent the past few days with friends walking all over Toronto, Cananda. Tonight, we’re back in the states in Port Huron, Michigan, where I need to take care of a hopefully minor medical condition with my eyes. More to come on this tomorrow. And then, it’s off to find some wilderness.
I hope to take a pause in the next day or so to take some more pictures of the van conversion. I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep tonight. Be well, and good night.
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Tuesday, September 30th, 2008
My old art show van, Mongo, has a bench that folds out into a bed – very handy for crashing in the van while traveling. Mongo’s replacement, Chuck, being an empty shell of a cargo van, had no such amenities.
I decided to build a plywood platform in the back. I could store cargo underneath the platform and sleep on top. At some point, I realized that I would need to drill holes into the van’s metal support beams. I don’t know if you’ve ever drilled a hole into your car, but for me, this was a big step. I was ok with drilling up the 2×4’s, because, hey, if I screw that up I can spend two dollars to buy another piece of wood. But, if I screwed up putting a hole in the van, well… I guess I could cover it up with duct tape. With drill in hand, I paused and stared down the metal rail. I gave myself a pep talk and looked at it for a good long time. I took a deep breath and drilled the holes. And, it wasn’t the neatest job, but it worked.
With my new bolstered wood cutting, metal chewing ego, the dreaming began. I found stories of people that sold everything and started living in their vans. I found camper vans with sinks and beds and toilets and solar power with 4×4 transmissions that could cross rivers and scale boulder ridden jeep trails. And then, I bought more wood and drilled more holes.
I drove the van up to a company called Sportsmobile, where they cut out the roof, and installed a pop up top with a loft bed. After that I was on my own. I built and installed a sink. I put in a 130lb deep cycle battery for house power and hooked it up to the alternator and followed up with a bunch of wiring. The passenger seat got a swivel base so that it can turn around to face the interior. New stereo, speakers and added insulation.
Empty van, before any work
Storage platform and insulation
Installing a box for the house battery
The sink
Chuck with the Sportsmobile penthouse top
Much of my photography is from backpacking in the wilderness and long walks in the woods. I create well when I am immersed in the subject matter. In these times, I feel fully alive. Chuck is preparation for a photographic tour, a grand adventure in the spirit of photographers Edward Weston and Robert Frank. Hannah and I leave in three weeks. Still to do: the plywood platform comes out, and in goes wood paneling, a bench and shelves. Fun.
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Sunday, September 28th, 2008
A few years ago, I had a couple of roommates that drove vans. When I was dating my wife, Hannah, she had an album of some kind-of funk house music. It had this wah-chika-wah-chika-wah beat. You know, caper music. It’s the music that plays in a heist movie, where they montage scenes of the crew practicing their plan to break into some secure building. And when they’re ready, they all jump into a van. I would get into my roommate’s van, and that caper music would be going through my head.
We would take the van to pick up a new dishwasher, or help someone move, and it wasn’t just a normal drive, it was an adventure. To drive a big container of a vehicle like that takes some responsibility, you had to be doing something worth doing. You’re not just going to the grocery store, or driving to a job where you sit in a cubicle. There are hippie vans, junker work vans, spy vans. The A-team drove a van. The theme music to the A-team TV show, now that’s some van music.
A couple of months ago, I bought a Chevy cargo van to use to haul my work to art shows. This van replaced a Ford passenger van, named Mongo by the previous owner. The new van needed a name, so we decided on Charlie. Or, in day to day usage, Chuck, as in the Chuck-Wagon; my bring-home-the-bacon friend. May the adventures of Chuck begin.
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