Here are images from my recent trip east, where I roamed around the West.
Confused? Well… Washington is geographically in the western United States, but only parts of the state look like our idea of the “West.” The Cascade Mountain Range divides the state in two: western/coastal Washington and central/eastern Washington. The western side of the mountains, where I live, has a wet, temperate climate. Industry and technology drive the economy, especially in and around Seattle. On the eastern side the weather is much drier, the population more sparse, and agriculture takes precedence over technology or industry. That’s where I expect to find remnants of America’s “Wild West” – but I have to travel east to get there.
The Govan Schoolhouse. Photo taken with a film camera and processed in Silver Efex.
The shingles are loose, the floor is rotten, and birds scatter and cry foul if you get too close.
The schoolhouse roof has seen better days.
More old buildings in Govan that seem to embody a life of hard work and practical values.
A deserted home welcomes plants more than people these days. Photo taken with a film camera, processed in Silver Efex.
The town of Curlew still has a false-fronted saloon and a general store, but miners no longer come looking for moonshine. Around the corner…
An old Seagrave fire truck from about 1949 gathers dust and dirt.
The Curlew bridge. It hasn’t been altered since it was built in 1908, and still features a wooden roadbed. Center your wheels!
Sadly, Riverside’s Detro’s Western Store is going out of business after 71 years. Western boots are on sale, along with saddles, hats, and rodeo equipment.
Down the street from Detro’s Western store, a weathered building has an aura of neglect.
Another anonymous building in Riverside.
The stretch of small town shadows and summer afternoons is mighty long.
A bike in front of the store has been left out a little too long, but it sure adds to the charm.
A cigar store Indian stands guard at the grocery store in Riverside.
A life-size, sculpted Indian on horseback gazes into the distance. He’s part of an extensive Wild West collection at the Black Bear Motel in Davenport.
In Metaline Falls, architectural details recall a more prosperous past.
There’s plenty of room to spread out, here among the rolling hills.
It seems that everywhere I look, whether at an old storefront in town or a grassy field outside of town, colors are subtly weathered, from the harshness of the elements.
An unidentified wildflower, past bloom but still beautiful, graces a vacant lot.
A barbed wire fence, a bullet-ridden old can, and utter quiet in Lincoln County.
This pretty Mariposa lily hosts an insect convention.
One lone tree stands vigil amid grasses and wildflowers.
Glacial erratics are scattered over the earth in Douglas County. A National Natural Landmark, the area was on the edge of an ice sheet several million years ago; these giants were left behind.
The empty road reminds me of all the people who have come west, looking for freedom and a new life.
Why do we take photographs when we travel? To remember. In the emotional rush that is the excitement of new places, there often isn’t much consideration given to the best angle, the best settings, or how to compose a picture that tells the story – we aren’t even sure what the story is sometimes. We just want to record, and sometimes that means less than optimal images. But each time we travel we get a little better at remembering to work the image, to make it more than a snapshot. There’s another factor that motivates me – I’m looking for patterns. Not just patterns within a particular frame, but patterns across time that are connections to other images from other places.
This post is presented as a visual narrative of a particular trip, but also carries forward ideas I have about beauty and loss, the intrigue of form and shadow, and maybe, an expression of the fullness of spirit that sometimes finds me, in the best moments of forgetting.