The epic photography road trip, something I’ve been planning on doing for years, but me being me, never got around to actually doing it. Then opportunity came knocking. My niece was getting married in Albuquerque in the fall. Also, my brother had moved to Durango a couple of years ago and I wanted to visit him. Our first plan was to fly into ABQ for the wedding, then rent a car and drive up to Durango. But because of the Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque the same weekend, it was going to be $2K to rent a car for a week. Forget that. A new plan was formed. I’d head out a few days early and drive and do a photo trip on the way. I would then pick up my wife at ABQ the day before the wedding and then head off to Colorado after. Then we would drive home together. Perfect.

My wife had been asking me weeks before the trip if I’d planned out my route and knew what I wanted to photograph. To be honest, all my energy had been focused on one of my daughters who was going abroad for a semester. Planning my route, getting ready, and packing up took a back seat. We got home from San Francisco after dropping her off at the airport on Sunday and I was due to leave Tuesday morning. What’s a photo road trip compared to not seeing my daughter for 3 months? Fortunately, it turned out to be just the tonic I needed.

Sunday night I finally sat down and researched a possible route. I knew the highlight would be traversing along Route 66 through Arizona, something that’s been on my photography bucket list. But I’d need a stop before then because I wanted to not have a driving day longer than 8 hours. After some back and forth, I decided to stay in Furnace Creek inside Death Valley my first night.

The other decision I had to make was whether to shoot film, digital, or both. I decided on both. For digital, I decided to bring my Leica M11-P and Sony A7RIV. For film, I decided on the Fuji GW690II and the Yashica T4. Turns out, I needn’t had bothered with the film cameras. The T4 never left my bag and I took a total of 4 pictures on the Fuji.

The photo gear and my regular luggage were all packed an hour before I left Tuesday morning. I had a hard time getting motivated until time forced my hand. I needed to arrive in Death Valley before the sun set so I could get some photographs in the soft light.

Death Valley

My route for the first leg of my journey took me from Sacramento up to Reno and then south on Route 95, a road I’d never traveled before. For those who have never driven across Nevada, there’s a reason why they tested nuclear weapons in that state, because you’d never be able to tell. I mean, that state has nothing, literally nothing, in the middle of it.

Driving down Highway 95 as seen through my windshield

I knew going into it that my biggest obstacle to taking photographs on this trip was my get-there-itis. When I have a destination programmed into my Maps app, I want to get there as fast as possible, with as few stops as possible. And now I’d be on my own and not subject to the need to stop for my wife and/or daughters. I had to keep reminding myself that I was under no timeline (other than the setting sun) and had plenty of time to stop if I saw something worth photographing.

So when I was driving around Walker Lake and noticed the pastel like sky with mountains reflected in the water, I made myself pull over. I’m glad I did. One of the first photos I took on my trip ended up being one of my favorites.

Born and raised in California and I’d never been to Death Valley. I have driven across the Mojave before, but never ventured below sea level into one of the hottest places on earth. I’ve watched many a YouTube photography video from the likes of Ben Horne and Nick Carver, so I knew sort of what to expect, but watching a video and seeing something in person are two very different things.

Death Valley is a big place and I knew one night would not be enough to see much of it, so I set my sights on the sand dunes. I’d never been to the Middle East or any other place that has large desert sand dunes, so I was excited to see them. I parked my car and looked at the temperature reading for outside. Now, this was the last day of September and the temperature was 100° at 5:30pm. I live in Sacramento. In 2024, we had 45 days over 100°, with about ten of those over 110°, so I’m used to the heat. But for whatever reason, when I got out of my car, it felt like walking out into an oven. No wonder morons who insist on hiking in such heat die.

Anyways, the dunes were accessible close to the parking lot and they met my expectations. That’s going to be a running theme in this post. My expectations were consistently never met, both in a positive and a negative way, the entire trip. I grabbed my Sony with attached Tamron 28—200mm lens and walked a quarter mile or so into the sand. There were a couple dozen people there but most didn’t venture much farther than me because of the heat. Thankfully, that meant the big dune was free of footprints.

I would start below sea level and end up at 10000 feet on this trip

After getting the composition I desired, I headed for my hotel in Furnace Creek, 24 miles away. The hotel was nice and for any other non-campers, I recommend staying there. If I was gung-ho, I would’ve done some astrophotography, but since I’ve never done that in my life, and since it also doesn’t interest me all that much, I didn’t give it a second thought. That was the other big theme of this first part of the trip where I was by myself. I would have the freedom to not take pictures of places and things I was “supposed to” take pictures of. That came into play the next morning as I was heading out of the park and simply drove past Zabriske Point, a “must see” destination in Death Valley. Instead, I pulled to the side of the road and took a picture of the layers of mountains in the distance. The National Park was simply a stopover for me. The day ahead held the real prize I had been waiting for.

Route 66

This day would contradict my usual contrarian instincts. For Route 66, I wanted to photograph a bunch of abandoned gas stations like you see all over YouTube, especially from film photographers. This day was the reason I brought my medium format Fuji film camera. I did feel a twinge of guilt for not stopping at the Hoover Dam, even though I literally drove right past it, but I was too excited to see the nostalgic and photogenic auto route of America.

After finally leaving Nevada and cruising a bit into Arizona, I got off the main freeway and began my Route 66 journey. I was apprehensive, as one gets when they’re about to see something they’ve been thinking about for years. My first stop was about forty-five minutes away at the Hackberry General Store. I didn’t know a thing about it because I didn’t want to do much research so that I could be surprised.

My expectation was to find a kitschy, yet nostalgic, old gas station from the 1950’s era, and I was right. It was obviously a destination stop as it’s in the middle of nowhere. It was authentic and touristy at the same time. A fitting start to my day. I fired off a couple of shots on the Fuji and filled in the rest on my Leica (if I loved my M11-P before this trip, I would be absolutely be over the moon with it by the end).

Ye olde music hall in the middle of nowhere

After venturing inside the tiny and comfy store and buying an Arizona Iced Tea, I headed out for the abandoned gas stations. I kept driving, mile after mile, and there was nothing. One stretch had some old gas stations but they were behind chain link fences. I kept going thinking there will be more. Nope. Nothing. Not only did I not find my abandoned gas stations, but the landscape did not fit the “Cars” motif I was expecting. The landscape was high desert with some interesting flattop mountains, but nothing really breathtaking.

As I finally made it to Seligman (“don’t miss Seligman”), the veneer of excitement shattered. Authenticity? Not even close. Everything had characters from Cars. I had fallen and landed right in the middle of a tourist trap. I might as well be in Disneyland. After getting a yummy milkshake at the Sno Cap diner, I headed toward Williams (“don’t miss Williams”).

The only picture from Seligman, and also one of my favorites from the trip

Williams, Arizona. What can I say about it? I live in California gold country. There are small mountain towns dating back to before California was a state. I love visiting and photographing them. Williams was just another one of those. Expectations? Shattered. To be fair, it’s known for its neon signs and I was there in the daytime, but still, nothing much to see. Perhaps if I was coming from the East Coast or other parts of the world it would’ve been a different story?

I limped into Winslow, dejected and listless. The large Arizona crater was just a few miles off the freeway but I passed it by. Was I going to take a picture of the “standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona” spot from the Eagles’ “Take it Easy?” Not a chance. My day was done.

Balloon Fiesta

My original plan was to spend the night in Gallup, NM before heading into Albuquerque to pick my wife up at the airport the following day. But after the disappointment of Route Amusement Park, I decided to just go through to Albuquerque and stay close to Old Town. I figured walking around Old Town would make up for the crap from the previous day. So I ended up at a cool little motel close to Old Town by mid-afternoon. I grabbed some lunch, went back to my room, and didn’t leave it for the rest of the night. I don’t know, I was just sort of done at that point.

I don’t know much about the Balloon Fiesta other than to know that it draws people from all around the world every year and it jacks up prices for hotels and rental cars. Because of this, we and some other family members who came in from out of town rented a house for the weekend. One of the perks that wasn’t advertised was a sponsor parking pass for the Fiesta which was good for one car regardless of how many people were in it.

So at 5:30am, ten of us literally squeezed into my Toyota Highlander and drove the 5 or so miles to the event. My expectations were pretty low. Just the fact that the event drew people from everywhere was enough to turn me off. Also, I thought it was out in the middle of the desert on hard ground and we’d be sitting on rocks and dried mud.

We sat in 30-40 minutes of standstill traffic to get into the venue. When all was said and done, we were able to park in the front and walk right into park. It wasn’t desert or filled with rocks or mud, but a lovely grass field surrounded by a berm filled with sponsor tents and various food and craft vendors. Our tickets also included access to the Dos Equis tent with free coffee and beer plus tables to sit at.

Burners alight for the national anthem in the pre-dawn light

Fighter planes flyover at end of national anthem

As we arrived, the national anthem was sung and at the end, all the balloonists lit their burners in unison followed by a flyover of old fighter planes. That was the beginning of a very special morning. After having a cup of coffee, we headed out to the field where hundreds of balloons were being filled and ready for the mass ascent.

Walking amongst the throngs of people and balloonists in various stages of inflation brought me a sense of wonder and joy. I was in complete awe. The vibe was off the charts and I couldn’t stop snapping pictures with my Leica. I lost track of time as I meandered between a large space alien craft and a pride colored balloon blossoming before my eyes. I felt like I was one of the lucky kids in Willy Wonka’s factory.

And then something I didn’t expect. Balloons began to be deflated. Calls from men and women telling people to stay clear as the large balloons were deflated and brought gently back down to the ground. It turned out that the wind was 20mph at 1000 feet so the ascent was canceled for the day. Undoubtedly, the ascent would have been the highlight of the morning, but I didn’t feel disappointed. Rather, I felt happy to be a part of something so magical. My expectations couldn’t have been lower and I left with them being blown into the stratosphere.

That night was the wedding and it was a fabulous celebration with family. I won’t go into details because it was a private family event, but the location, food, entertainment were all top notch. Easily, one of the best weddings we’d been to in a while.

There was talk by my wife to possibly wake up Monday morning and go see the balloons ascend, but I declined. I think there was a part of me that didn’t want to retread over something that meant so much to me. I didn’t want to cheapen that initial experience by going back so soon.

Pride balloon floating above as my wife snaps pics on her phone

Balloons were close enough to hear the burners from inside the house

Turns out, Sunday morning you could see the balloons in the air from the house we were staying at. They were a few miles distant, but it was still cool to see so many balloons in the sky. But that was nothing compared to Monday morning. The winds were flowing right toward our house which meant we got a front row view of many balloons flying directly overhead. It fully made up for not going and seeing the ascent that morning. I get it now, and I believe we will be back to the Balloon Fiesta in the future for sure. Sometimes the masses get it right.

Durango

There are three main routes from Albuquerque to Durango, and the shortest is about 3 1/2 hours. However, my wife wanted to stop in Santa Fe on the way up, which would add about an hour to the trip, but since there was no time pressure, I had no reason not to accede to her wishes. The square in Santa Fe was much smaller than I remember it. I’m used to a square like Sonoma which is fairly large. We spent an hour in town and then headed for a restaurant in Abiquiu that my brother recommended. Holy shit, the food was amazing. Highly recommend it.

View from a bridge in Pagosa Springs as we drove through it

My brother also said the drive from Santa Fe to Durango was a pretty one and he wasn’t wrong. We were hitting the area at exactly the right time as the aspen trees were all an electric gold color. We finally arrived outside of his house in the hills outside of town and had a wonderful home cooked meal. The next morning we were due to ride the train from Durango to Silverton, apparently, a well-known thing to do. I had purchased tickets on my brother’s recommendation but didn’t really expect much.

It was just my wife and I in the open air car. My brother and his wife would drive up to Silverton and meet us as the train came in so we didn’t have to do the round trip back to Durango. We settled into our seats at 8:50am and rubbed our hands together in the morning chill as we waited for the trip to begin. I took out my Leica and manually set it to 1/1000th of a second shutter speed knowing any photographs I would be taking would be from a moving train and I wanted to prevent any motion blur.

The lovely view on the other side of the train as we left Durango

As the train pulled away from the station, it wove through town and passed waving bystanders. It soon became apparent that we might be on the wrong side of the train as the opposite side had views of the trees and river while we were stuck staring at cars traveling along the highway. All that changed about halfway through our trip when we got up into the mountains and the river crossed over to our side. My camera rarely left my eye for the next hour or so as I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the turning trees, the turquoise colored river, and the train winding through it all.

I didn’t forget to look backward as well

Eventually, the river returned to the other side but we had gotten our eyes full by then. The scenery of the turning leaves in various colors snaking up the mountainside rolled by, I had the same sense of joy and wonder from the Balloon Fiesta. For the second time in a week, my expectations had been blown out of the water.

My favorite from the train, taken while moving

Upon entering the mining town of Silverton at 10000 feet, my brother and his wife were there waiting. They drove us down the Million Dollar Highway with its steep (and guardrail-less) road down into the town of Ouray. We ate lunch at a Thai place that had been recommended and then made the 2 hour trek back to Durango.

Wednesday was more about exploring in and around Durango as driving a fair distance when we were leaving the next day did not sound appealing. I grabbed my Sony for this part of the trip and enjoyed the colorful lakes and mountains surrounding the town. I certainly understood the appeal of such a beautiful place and promised to return as we said our goodbyes early the next morning.

Arches and Home

For context, I haven’t had an ACL in my left knee since 2006 and my right knee has taken a beating compensating. Ironically, it was my right knee that had been giving out here and there on the trip, so I was trepidatious at the thought of any sort of strenuous hiking (relatively speaking). In anticipation of at least some traversing of rock and sand inside Arches, we purchased a walking stick when we stopped to eat in Abiquiu (and thank God we did!).

From Durango, it’s about a 3 1/2 hour drive to Arches National Park. My brother and sister-in law said there was plenty to see by driving around and not venturing very far from the car, so that was the plan. Also, since we were going in on day 3 of the government shutdown, that meant no tickets would be required for entry. As we sped past the closed entrance kiosks, we knew it might be kind of a free-for-all kind of day (and we were right).

Some of the formations as soon as you enter the park

Once inside the park, I finally realized where “Cars” got their landscape ideas from. It wasn’t from Route 66 but from the unique formations inside of Arches National Park. If you’ve never been, I cannot recommend it enough. As for my expectations, I had high hopes, and they were still exceeded. It’s another one of those experiences that cannot be told through words or even video. It must be seen in person.

Remember back to my knees? Yeah, my wife pretty much discarded that in favor of having us head straight to Delicate Arch (to be fair, I did not protest. I wanted to see it too). It’s the one everyone has seen in photos and videos for time immemorial. My brother-in law who lives in Albuquerque warned us that the hike up to it was quite steep in places but not longer than a mile. As we entered the overcrowded parking lot, my wife suggested I get out and begin the walk up as she waited for a parking space to open up. I grabbed the walking stick and my Leica and headed into the unknown. In my haste, I left my phone and had no water with me.

In front of me was an undulating walking path followed by a giant red wall of smooth rock. My assumption was that the arch was just on the other side of the top of that wall, so all I had to do was make it up to that point and I’d be home free. Walking up wasn’t the issue, however. Coming back down was going to be the issue, and the reason for the walking stick. If my knee gave way on the way down, it could be bad.

I was almost to the base of that giant wall when I realized I needed water and decided to sit and wait for my wife. It turned out she wasn’t far behind me. And being the intelligent person she is, she had plenty of water and my cell phone tucked away inside the backpack. After swigging half a bottle of water, we began the trek up the bald red face. It wasn’t too bad, and everyone around us was in a great mood. I had run into an older couple and asked them how bad it was, in terms of the hike. They said it was tough but completely worth it, a once-in a lifetime opportunity. Their words filled me with determination.

We finally managed to reach the top of the steep rock face and there was nothing but more trail, rock and sand extending into the horizon. Wtf? Little did I know that I was on the endless hike. Every spot in the distance that looked like it might be the destination turned into just another waypoint. A mile and a half hike? Seriously? When all was said and done, it felt like 3-4 miles (each way), easy.

The view just to the right of Delicate Arch

Anyone who knows me would not want to be with me while we walked into rock and sandy hell. I’m the youngest of three, and when I’m tired and in pain, I turn into a whiny bitch. By the time we got up to the arch, I couldn’t care less. I was so pissed about the never-ending hike, that all I could think about was how I was going to get back down without destroying my knee.

After catching my breath and taking everything in, I finally freed my Leica from its bag and snapped pictures of the arch and the surrounding area. I wasn’t going to move around for different angels because at the time I didn’t give a shit. I made the hike, got the pics, and then it was time to see if I had a working right knee by the time we reached the car.

I was proud of myself for taking it nice and slow as we walked back down. I kept my eyes focused on the ground immediately in front of me and just took it one step at a time. It took us about an hour to get back to the car, but I arrived in one piece and with a sense of accomplishment. Even as I write this, I want to give myself and my wife pats on the back. As far as hikes go, it’s not a difficult one, but with what I was dealing with, it felt like a bridge too far. Oh, and did I mention that we hadn’t eaten yet that entire day up to that point? Yeah, I know.

Once in the car, I was all set to get on the road and hightail it to Ely in Nevada, our stop for the night. But as we approached Balanced Rock, I forced myself to park the car and get out and take some pictures. After we were back in the car, there was no stopping except for food and gas. We made it to Ely just as the sun was setting. If I thought Highway 95 was bad, Highway 50 (known as the Loneliest Highway) was even more desolate. For the six hour drive from Arches to Ely, I swear we saw a total of 10 cars, all coming from the other direction.

There’s nothing in Ely worth more than a sentence. We headed out early in the morning excited to get back home. Reluctantly, when we hit the town of Eureka, I spotted an old General Store and knew I had to take a picture. It was the last one of the trip. From there, we drove through Reno and back down the mountain until we arrived home.

Final Thoughts

Looking back, I cannot remember having such a good time doing photography on a trip in recent memory. I honestly think the pictures I have from the trip are the best I have ever taken. And since I’m the only judge in that respect that matters, then they are the best set of pictures I’ve ever taken.

I mentioned on Substack that I may make a zine out of the experience, but I think they deserve a book, actually. There are many photographs that I didn’t have room to present in this article. If it’s only for me and perhaps some family members and a couple of friends, that’s okay with me. I think it will be worth it to produce. For anyone who has made it this far, leave a comment if you might be interested in a photo book of my experience (obviously, no commitment required. I’m just curious to see how much interest there might be for something a bit more costly than a zine).

Do I have any regrets not stopping at some famous spots? No, not at all. If anything, it encourages me to take another trip in the future. What I did learn was how fucking awesome my Leica and 35mm f/1.4 lens are to take pictures with. Shooting wide open at the wedding left me with some of the best portraits I have ever taken. I’m confident I can travel solely with this setup and not miss a beat.

On balance, my expectations were exceeded more than they were diminished. While Route 66 took the wind out of my sails for a short time, the rest of the trip was eye opening and filled with wonder. These ten days shall rank up there with some of my favorite trips of my lifetime.

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From Silence to Sky: A Road Trip of Expectations