Saturday, February 22nd. I woke up this morning with a rash around my waist. I was in and out the truck so much taking pictures yesterday that my paints rubbed me raw. Ain't that nice.
The whole reason for this trip is because of today. I rode the "photographer's special" train from Durango to Cascade Canyon. The crew dropped us off at specific places along the route so we can get shots of the train doing a "drive-by". The scenery is stunning. I also realized I had forgotton something else...my knit hat. My freakin head was frozen from riding in the open air car. Near the end of the trip, I was trying to climb up for a higher vantage point and slipped. The result...a nice little gash on my right leg. Just after that someone next to me moved and sent some rocks down below where some others were standing. One of them hit a guy on the head, knocked him to the ground, and cut his head open. If I would have known that this was going to be a full-contact sport I would have worn a helmet and pads. But then again after being chased by dogs and cows nothing should surprise me. The train ride was rough, and after the day was done I had trouble walking and laying down. I felt like I had sea sickness...or too much to drink.
As for my fellow photographers on this train...well I don't want to offend anyone but damn...some of these guys must have crawled out from underneath their rocks just for this trip. Some people didn't care whether or not they got in front of you after you set up...if I was not such a nice guy they would have been eating snow. This one weird guy had me thinking that the only other time he got out of his basement was when his mom yelled down to him "go get me some cigarettes and a National Enquirer". I mean he was so homely...and probably about 50 years old. He was talking to someone and I overheard him say that he didn't have any friends. I had already drawn that conclusion from the first time I saw him. The "bachelor pad" down in his basement probably was not a chick magnet, as I'm sure the posters of David Hasslehoff would probably be a turn-off. And that is if anyone could get passed his mother.
I took the frame with me, but didn't take it out of my jacket pocket because I didn't want to take the title of "weirdest person on the train" from Mr. momma's boy.
So I took a ton of pictures and when I got back to my room I had to get all of the soot out of my nose and ears. I was exhausted from getting on and off the train so I took a shower and crashed. Other than that, it was a pretty uneventful day. Not much else to talk about.
I did find what I believe to be the last of the notes from my wife. See, we have this ritual when one of us leaves to go out of town the one not going will hide little notes in various places. They might say "thinking of you" or simply "I love you". I found them in my camera bag, computer bag, etc. It's a nice little surprise when you are miles from home. Now if she would have packed away a sexy picture of her in my bag...
Tomorrow I'm heading to Monument Valley in Utah and Arizona. The girls will be happy to get out of this freezing weather and get into some warmer climates. I told them there will be plenty of sand...they think we're going to the beach...
Random thought for Sunday February 22nd. There are some websites out there that say the San Francisco cable-cars are the only moveable national monuments. Not so! The St. Charles streetcars (the green ones) also fall into this category. Now you know the truth! Knowledge is power.
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