New Launch

Last Friday Patrick and Tyler pioneered a new flying site in Horse Shoe Bend. They still need to come up with a name but I'll call it Runaway Ridge because the launch is situated between two runaway truck ramps on the "new" Horse Shoe Bend grade.


Clancy and Tyler at the Runaway Ridge L.Z.

Hiking through sage brush on the approach.


Monday's forecast looked lame with a discouraging positive number on the thermal index chart, and high pressure. John Todd, Clancy, Tyler and I were willing to risk a sled ride however and we made the steep hot trudge from the last truck ramp up the north face to the new launch.

"Yea, I would like to sell all those Kyrgastani Som's I purchased two years ago and buy back my American dollars. Oh, really? I made that much?" - Tyler placing currency orders on the hike:



John Todd killing the kids on the hike:



On the hike up we observed one Red-Tail climbing out in light lift from the parking lot, and one crow playing in equally light lift just below launch.

John Todd's second launch attempt worked out well, and as he flew towards the highway we watched him fly through two small speed bump pockets of up before flying out over Horse Shoe view subdivision and drifting down to the rig.



Soon after Tyler cleaned some sticks from his lines and made a few boaty turns before heading to the l.z.








Clancy nailed his launch during a fairly decent cycle, but rolled unlucky dice flying into sink and bombing out.





I clipped in for a sledder, launched in a near calm lull, flew out over the road-cut and found some very slow rising air. I barely climbed above the ridge, took in some view of Bogus, scarred up a couple deer, had a look at a sheepherder's wall tent, and tried to fly to the gutter to see if I could convince any paddlers to learn how to fly. I didn't make it that far. If you have Google Earth you can download my track log.

Thanks to Patrick and Tyler for finding a new launch, and Clancy for driving. Hope to see you in the air more often John.

Whatever you do have fun. More after the jump...

Like Cream and Butter

Another incredible glass-off tonight. Incredibly, I was once again the only person in the air. Actually, I got a phone call from Clancy just as I landed. He flew his paramotor this afternoon, spent the evening searching out ridge lift on obscure ridges south of Kuna, then climbed to 6,000 for the sunset. Makes a fella want to get a motor. Hmmm....

I'm not complaining however. Thanks to my cousin Ryan for giving me the first set of images I've had of myself in the air in a long time:









The sunset was great again tonight. Let me know if you ever want to go for a hike in the foothills and watch the sunset over the Boise river together. Aren't we lucky? More after the jump...

I'm not anywhere near "that."

Not yet.
I mean with my images, and my image making capabilities of course. I am not yet anywhere near "that." The truth is, as a photographer I suck. I'm not supposed to be any good right now. The long term vision and ideal is rolling around somewhere in my head. I know I will gravitate in the right direction.

As I watched Zach Arias critique the work of aspiring photographers this evening, I was reminded of an interview I saw about a year ago in which Ira Glass* addressed the enormous gap between an individual's taste and their capabilities. Ira suggests that anyone who sets off down a creative path will most likely have good taste, but will inevitably not yet have the skills and experience required to execute their creative vision.

I think this could be said about anyone who sets out to learn anything new, whether creative or not. Everyone has enough good taste and understanding to recognize that Shane McConkey ripped, or that Sheila Mills knows what to do with duck cumin sausage, but rail sliding an Alaska ridge line on a pair of water skis or publishing a fourth cook book are not things most of us could pull off in the next year.

I looked up the Ira Glass interviews on youtube tonight. He also offers some great insight into the dual requirements of good story telling which he identifies as the anecdote followed by a moment of reflection.

From the first moment I picked up a camera with the intention of consciously creating I have struggled to understand how to execute something meaningful. The fact is, it's difficult to articulate what is in my head, what it is that I'm trying to do with images. I suppose what I'm trying to do is produce engaging images, as Ira said "you don't want to make mediocre stuff." No I don't.

Ira's toolkit for great story telling reminded me of a conversation I had with Glenn Oakley and a creative director while on a shoot this past winter. All three of us agreed that one element of a great image is that the image not be too literal. Great images lead the viewer down a path, but allow the viewer to complete his or her own version of the story based on personal perceptions, conceptions, and ideas. THAT is the whole idea, to ENGAGE the viewer.

While I have juggled and played with these ideas internally, and even verbally articulated them to friends, this is the first time that I have and publicly stated the weakest element of my images and pointed to one of my personal goals, which is to be less literal and more suggestive with the images that I produce. An Alec Soth quote hangs over my desk and stares me down every day, "Photography tells a story. But more often Photography suggests a story." Yeah, "that" is the direction I want to head with my images.

My creative future must lie in the power of suggestion. Oh, and in perseverance, a "F*** you" attitude in the face of failure, the ability to abandon crap then find a good story, and as Ira says to continue to kill it, to be ruthless every day in the pursuit of "that."





*If you live in a cave that blocks the reception of all NPR frequencies and you don't know who Ira Glass is, do yourself a favor and spend a Sunday afternoon with a garden trowel in your hand, and tune the radio tuned to This American Life. I guess it is 2009, you could also just download or podcast the episodes.

Life is Grand! More after the jump...

Sunset watching

I've decided to stop encouraging people to check out what an evening of paragliding at the crow is all about.

For some reason people can't relate to, or don't understand that an evening flight is a mellow, peaceful, and relaxing activity. When I tell people that I'm going to go fly, their faces often scrunch up and they usually say something lame and cliche like, "you are really crazy, do you know that?"

I'm changing my tactic. From now on, I will ask "Do you want to go for a mellow hike in the foothills and watch the sunset together?" Who doesn't like a warm gentle breeze, and a great view of the Boise river heading west as the sun sinks into the Oregon horizon? Seems like anyone could enjoy that sort of evening.

Even so, I'm convinced that I'm the only one in the entire valley that really actually enjoyed watching the sun sink into the horizon and the sky turning blaze orange this evening.

Me, two red-tails, and four vultures anyway...



More after the jump...

Lisa Tate at her Studio

I hung out with my friend Lisa Tate this afternoon. See more of her beautiful work here.







More after the jump...

Hiking with Em

Em took me to Kootanei Falls for my last day in Libby.

More after the jump...

A rural village's secret stash

I was pretty much blindfolded and sworn to secrecy by the locals who took me skiing a week ago.  Not that I would tell anyone about this place anyway, I mean it was flat, the snow was crap, it was a really long difficult skin in, and the terrain that was steep enough to actually ski was all skied out, and the locals are rude.  You don't believe me?  Look for yourself:

Hi-Fives for flat terrain and crummy snow conditions!



There must be something in the town's water.  Even when we got back in bounds the ski resort was doing all it could to prevent further generations from enjoying this beautiful activity:

Even the beer was no good.  Don't ski this mountain.
More after the jump...