Foghorn Dune Baby Onesie

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I was walking Eureka sand dune in Death Valley alone one morning and I heard what seriously sounded like a foghorn, not a distant faint foghorn, but a loud reverberating thrumming long low blast. As I looked around trying to find see a low jet or possibly a helicopter rising from behind the ridge, I saw the sand moving as it shifted downward on the edge of this dune which had just given way. It was this sand-shift that was thrumming like a foghorn as it slipped down the face. It was one of those had-to-be-there moments, and I was grateful I was.

I started with black and white. Not that I am so old that I pre-date colored film, but for high school the chemicals for the dark room were simple and straightforward enough for a sophomore photo class. I borrowed my dad's Exakta 35mm camera, which he had years before I was born. It was a wonderful camera with a focal circle in the center, which was split in half horizontally, so when I dialed the image un-split, then it was focused. It had a leather camera case which protected the lens and snapped right to the camera body. I thought my old camera was better than any of the newer ones my classmates used. I loved the class, and while my classmates were making fake IDs in the darkroom I was making a big photo of a big barn the size...