Archive for the 'On The Road' 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.
Posted in Camper Van Chuck | No Comments »
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.
Posted in Camper Van Chuck, Photographic process | No Comments »
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.
Posted in Camper Van Chuck | No Comments »
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.
Posted in Camper Van Chuck | No Comments »
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.
Posted in Camper Van Chuck | No Comments »
Thursday, September 25th, 2008
Mongo, my 1992 duo-toned Ford art-caper van is for sale. View the listing on craiglist. Here’s the info:
1992 Brown Ford E-150 Club Wagon XLT able to hold 7 passengers with a full-size fold down bed in the back!! (bed folds up into a three-seater bench otherwise) 164K miles, 5L/350cid motor, clear title, never wrecked, automatic transmission with OD (rebuilt 11/2004), AC runs cold, new brakes, good tires, power windows/locks/seats, radio with AM/FM cassette. We’ve depended on this van for out of town work and it has always seen us through– a great vehicle.
Mongo has served me well through some good adventures. May it do well for its next caretaker.
I’m selling the van because I got another one, a Chevy cargo van, that I’ve been converting into a camper. Come mid October, we’re going to hit the road to visit and photograph some wilderness for two months. And ooh, I am excited. For a taste, check out this pop-up top.
Posted in The Mongo Chronicles | No Comments »
Monday, March 31st, 2008
It was a tenuous proposition to begin with. Driving from Indiana to Florida is a test of any vehicle’s reliability. But, Mongo… Mongo could do it.
Mongo, my 1992 duo-toned Ford art-caper van, had a history of being disagreeable with the east. The van, being of old age and habit, would reliably break down each time the previous owner tried to drive it to Ohio. There were whispers of Mongo and the curse of Ohio.
I bought the van during the summer of 2006. A couple of months later, I was stopped at a gas station on the way to Cleveland, Ohio. While pumping gas, I noticed a large puddle growing by my feet. It was gasoline. The more I pumped, the more the puddle grew. Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle, went the little stream of gasoline. Right from the pump, onto the floor.
At least it wasn’t a problem with the engine. The hose to the gas tank was replaced, and we were good to go. Yeah! Good to go all the way to an art show in Florida. It’s hard to decide to do an art show in Florida. The expenses are high. You pretty much need to drive to get all your work and display down there. And, the length of the trip takes away from time working on other things. In Febuary, 2007, fresh with optimism, Hannah and I packed up the van, dug a path through the snow, and pushed off to Miami.
Setting up for an art show is stressful. There’s the logistics of getting the tent and display up, and the artwork hung. There’s remembering to charge the battery on the credit card machine. There’s hoping you brought the right mix of work. And, there’s the wondering if, after all this effort, there will be enough interest in your work to make expenses. I have a hard time letting go of this mental baggage when setting up. If possible, I favor a slow, laid-back setup, followed by a nice dinner where I can try to convince myself that this is a sane way to make a living.
Things were smooth on the way to Miami. We were going to arrive in the afternoon, with plenty of time to setup and then to explore the area before dinner. Then, I noticed Mongo was hesitating going up hills. One more hesitation, and then… nothing – the engine stalled. We were on the highway. I worked on trying to restart the engine, and at the same time switch lanes to get onto the shoulder. We coasted to a stop. The engine wouldn’t start.
I wasn’t sure where we were, but we were close to the show site. There was a highway sign in the distance, but it was too far away for me to read. No problem, I grabbed my camera with a telephoto lens, took a picture and zoomed up on the LCD display. Yeah! Try doing that with film. That’s the picture attached to this post. We were 20 miles from the show site. After going all that distance, we couldn’t make those last 20 miles.
Now, we’re racing against time. It’s getting near 4pm. The show requires that you’re setup before they close the site for the evening. After an hour, the tow truck arrives. Traffic is getting thick with rush hour. On the way to the mechanic, the truck takes us right past the show site! I considered asking if the van could be dropped off in front of our spot. There it was, after a thousand miles, the site of the show. We drove right by it, not knowing if we would ever get there.
We got to the service station. They wouldn’t be able to look at the van until the next day. I called around to the car rental companies in the area, but it was already past 6pm and they were closed. I was exasperated – ready to find a hotel and call it a night. No.. there must be a way. A call to the Miami airport car rental located a cargo van. A cab ride and a few hours later, we had the rental van back at the mechanic. It was dark as we unloaded everything from Mongo into the plain white cargo van. People walked by wondering what we were up to. I tried not to look suspicious.
We finally got to the show site, and talked our way past the security guards. It was near 2am when we finished setting up. There was no dinner. We were exhausted.
The next day, the sun came up and Mongo was repaired.
Posted in The Mongo Chronicles | No Comments »
Monday, February 4th, 2008
Two years ago, I started exhibiting in outdoor art festivals. I planned on traveling to these shows in my Volkswagen hatchback. It’s a small car, but hatchbacks can fit a surprising amount of stuff with the back seats folded down. In this space, I aspired to fit: Framed and matted photographs, 300 square feet of display walls, a canopy tent, display bins, lighting, and a dolly. I bought a rooftop bag for extra room. And yes, I thought it would work. Even though everyone else would be driving RVs and cargo vans, I would discover new ways of compactness which would allow me to fit all the same stuff into a compact car. Minimize, minimize! I always bring too much stuff anyways. It’ll be good for me.
When it comes down to it, after putting all the investment into printing/framing and display materials, I didn’t want to spend any more money on a larger vehicle.
After I had all my equipment together, it occurred to me that perhaps my heroic hatchback wouldn’t be up for the job. Even with the rooftop bag, and supreme Tetris style arranging skills, I don’t think I would’ve had a chance. That spring, on the way to a local art festival, I noticed a full size van for sale. It was brown 1992 Ford E150, complete with a two toned paint job and racing stripe goodness. No… I couldn’t. I went home and looked at my big pile of art show stuff and that little hatchback.
I called the owner of the van, who happens to be a potter that lives about 10 minutes away from me. The van was in fabulous shape. The interior looked almost new. The back bench seat folds out into a full size bed, perfect for camping out during long trips. And, it was so roomy. I could fit all the art show stuff with room to spare. You know how this logic goes – when you’ve decided that you need something, the correct rationale appears. We came to an agreement, and arranged for me to take it home the next day. By the way, she said, we’ve named the van Mongo. There was a tone of longing adoration in her voice as she declared it’s name, “Mongo”.
The next day, the seller mentioned that they gave Mongo a proper goodbye. The previous evening, she and her husband sat in the van with glasses of wine, and toasted to the good journeys that they had shared. She told me, take good care of Mongo. They added: Be prepared, now, for helping everyone that you know when they need to move something big.
And so began, in May 2006, our adventures with Mongo. More to come….
Posted in The Mongo Chronicles | 2 Comments »
