Sailing Stones

One of my first, and still favorite photos during my short stay
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

Stones and mud. I drove a really long way just to see some stones that left marks in the mud. Well... not just see them, but take photos. Many thousands of others have done the same over the years, and who knows how many millions of photos exist out there. Photos... of rocks in dried mud. There are only so many ways to position a stone and a track in a rectangular frame. They move each year, and the angle of the sun may be different. But they are still just rocks in mud in the same little valley. And I still had to go. Just to experience it for myself and see how I'd put them in a rectangle.

First Light
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

Dawn, with visible damp spots in the playa from overnight
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

Morning Light Pools
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

The first time I learned about these was in my college darkroom of Brooks Institute of Photography. A small group of students had gone to Death Valley and were printing their images, captured on film. I was blown away and knew I had to go. It only took me 20 years (almost exactly) to finally do it - and in those 20 years, some things here on Earth have changed quite a bit. Other things, not so much.

Dusk on the Racetrack
Hasselblad X1DII, 35-75mm

Hasselblad X1DII, 35-75mm, focus stacked

Sunset on the Racetrack
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

Ten years after I saw those prints, scientists finally discovered what, exactly, moves the stones. It was obvious to all that something was happening, but they didn't fully understand what the exact deal was. The stones had been studied since the 1900's and theories abounded, but it wasn't until 2014 that they finally had the full picture. 

Sunrise the next morning 
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar

Turns out, it's basically a fuckin' miracle. The playa is said to be one of the flattest, most level natural surfaces on Earth. The south end sits just an inch and a half lower than the north side, almost three miles away. So, what little water does come in, trickles to the south... where there just happens to be a crumbling mountain, sloughing rocks onto the floor. When the conditions are just right, you get a little pooling of water and overnight freezing temperatures, creating a thin layer of ice. When the ice begins to break and winds pick up, it pushes the rocks across the slick wet mud, leaving a trail. Rounded bottom stones tend to leave curved lines, while squared off ones leave more jagged trails. Makes sense and seems like a cute little bit of info to understand, but think about that for a minute. 

There are so many impossibly unlikely things that magically coincide to create the marvels of Earth. And each day, we just keep trudging along with our "progress," instead of being absolutely blown away by the improbability and wonder of it all. We are so dumb. 

This one feels like a metaphor for me and my life
Hasselblad X1DII 35-75

In the 20 years that have passed since I first saw those black and white, fiber prints, the world had changed drastically. Photography has changed drastically. With digital imaging and the need to feed the content machine, more and more people are going to greater lengths to have new stories to share on their socials. Whether the number of idiots is on the rise, or it's simply their visibility increasing, I don't know, but they have been venturing more to Death Valley recently. While I was there, a crew was working to build a fence along the edge of the road to keep people from driving on the playa. Sadly, it has recently been proven needed. People have also been walking on the mud when it is still wet. Footprints and tire tracks will stay for years - possibly decades. The climate is changing. More rain, more quickly when it comes, less for longer when it doesn't. What will happen without the Goldilocks conditions needed? 


I was visited by a Kit Fox while attempting some night shots. Its curiosity and our little interaction was the highlight of that session. Although it looks like two in the image, it's the same fox - it just moved while I shined the light away, and back again. 

A half-hearted attempt at getting a night shot of both the rocks and the stars.
Leica M11, 18mm Super-Elmar