New Topographics of the Moon

When I was in college, I fell in love with Robert Adams and the New Topographics movement. A group of photographers set out to redefine what a landscape could be. Instead of photographing beautiful landscapes that seemed to be untouched by any man, they photographed the very obvious signs of man. Great big subdivisions, buildings under construction, large cement ditches, etc.

I recently stumbled upon Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve, which is tucked into the vast hills of Idaho. With such an interesting name I had to stop in and see what it was all about. To my surprise I was met with miles of lava fields that formed from several volcanic eruptions that took place some 2,000 years ago.

I decided to stay the night and explore the park. I later realized that dogs weren’t allowed on any of the trails in the park (even though most of them are paved sidewalks). So my travel partner and I decided to walk the service road, which she was allowed on. Because of this we couldn’t visit the popular overlooks, which we weren’t too upset by. We were able to see a lot of the park from the main road, and parts that people don’t normally see up close.

Because I couldn’t photograph the main attractions at the park, I decided to flex my fine art skills and photograph in the style of the New Topographics. An art movement that I’ve always been obsessed with, but never explored myself. So here are some images of man made objects in this geological wonderland. The thought of these objects in every national park and monument is kind of strange. Edward Abby would be rolling in his grave if he knew all of these them existed.

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Smith Rock & Climbing

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If you go outside enough, chances are you’ll meet some places that make you stop dead in your tracks and audibly say, “damn.” I can happily tell you that the number of those moments only increase with the amount of time you spend traveling to different places. I was fortunate enough to spend about a week in Terrabonne, OR which is only a short drive from the entryway to Smith Rock State Park. I had a lot of those moments during my time there.

I’ve never personally spent time in central Oregon. I’ve been to Portland to visit friends and family, road motorcycles through the dense forests, and have ran along the coast with wine bottle in hand like a true Dharma Bum. When you think about Oregon you don’t really think of sage and juniper ruling the landscape. As someone that loves the desert, it felt like a home.

The climbing community in Smith is small and tight knit. Everyone knows each other, and what car they drive so they can decide if they want to stop for a beer in the small climbing shop, Red Point, or not. Walking through the park you’re guarantied to stop a few times to ask each other how their day is going, what they got on, and how their dog is feeling.

The rock is sharp and unforgiving. You’re never quite sure if a hold is going to break and crumble in your hand, you just trust the chalked up spots and hope the last people to climb the route were right. The whole time you’re climbing at Smith you’re playing hide-and-go-seek with the sun. Staying in the shade in the morning until the cold rock numbs your hand, jumping onto a route in the sun to warm up, and then running back to the shade when your skin instantly starts dripping with sweat two bolts up.

The climbing here is humbling. The routes are long, the rock is rough, and a few of the climbs are sandbagged. A perfect combo for some type II fun. You struggle up a route, fall, get scared, and then you top out. You get to take the view in of a truly magical place. You get to hang some couple hundred feet off the ground and have a perfectly orchestrated “damn.” moment.

They say that the average Smith visitor only spends ten minutes in the park. That includes driving in, walking to the entrance trail overlooking the park, and snapping a photo. They then get back into their car and drive away. It’s mind blowing that people think that’s enough time to take in a place like Smith. Places like Smith deserve so much more, they need your full attention. I hope the next time you go somewhere beautiful, you take the time to settle in, observe the greatness around you, and allow yourself to have a “damn.” moment.

Damn.