My first visit to Bayfield, Colorado was traumatic.
(And that’s putting it mildly.)
I shared the story with you, and was glad the blog post resonated.
Turning negative experiences into positive lessons and good vibes, through art, has been one of the driving forces of my adult life.
Not gonna lie, some days lately, I wonder if I’d do it all over again, if I had a magic button.
I never felt like I chose to be an artist; more that it chose me.
The only way I could be OK in this world was with creative expression, and then building a life to keep it going. Due to confidence or arrogance, I always believed I had enough talent and drive to make it work.
That was mostly the case for decades, but as everyone involved with photography, the arts, and media knows, system crashes come for everyone.
Would I have been happier, or OK, with a more stable, financially secure profession?
We’ll never know, I suppose, because at 52, it feels like I’m too old for a proper do-over. (And I don’t have a magic button anyway.)
That said, sometimes, we do get a chance to revisit an experience and flip it around.
Yesterday was such a day.
It took the mechanics in Bayfield a month to fix my car, (mostly because the insurance company dragged their feet, and played cheapskate,) so I wasn’t able to pick up my Kia until yesterday.
Unlike the first trip, which happened last minute, late in the day, and during mountain rainstorms, yesterday was pre-planned.
I had caffeinated beverages, lots of electrolytes, pbj sandwiches, good music, and a solid game-plan.
I left at 6am, hoping in the best case, I’d be able to make it home by 4pm. (Though I also packed overnight clothes, and had the contact info for hotels in Pagosa Springs and Chama, in case I had car trouble, or was too tired to keep going.)
Hell, I was so prepared, I even remembered to call my bank while driving, to make sure they’d authorize the heavy bill I had to pay to get my car back. (The insurance company, USAA, did not honor their commitment to cover all the costs, which sucked.)
So how did the day go?
Were there any dramatic interludes?
Almost.
Driving over the Brazos mountains in the early morning light was beautiful.
There were NO other cars, so I had the wilderness to myself.
I started out cranking Stone Temple Pilots, and at some point, the music stopped playing.
I’d been locked in on the road with intense concentration, but at that moment, I looked down at the media screen in my rental Nissan, for no more than .25 seconds.
When I looked up again, there was a massive cow standing in the middle of the highway.
She appeared like an apparition, and I had to slam on the brakes, for sure.
I came to a complete stop, and she didn’t budge.
So I honked, and she shimmied ever so slightly, to make room for me to pass.
Accident dodged.
Not ten minutes later, a family of deer leaped out of the woods, probably 50 yards in front of me, and ran across the road.
I was going slow enough that I didn’t get whiplash from the brakes, but really, it was starting to feel a bit close for comfort.
After that, it was two families of wild turkeys crossing the road, but this time, I had enough notice.
Let’s just say I was happy to make it out of the mountains in one piece.
Things were uneventful from there.
I stopped at the Colorado state line to pee by the side of the road.
It’s something of a local joke that the signs all say Welcome to Colorful Colorado, but they’re brown and white.
Not sure they intended the irony, but I always get a chuckle.
From there, I made it all the way to Bayfield without incident.
Why did I stop there, if the rental car was due in Durango, 20 minutes further up the road?
Because I knew there was an easy place to pee again.
Yes, I went back to the same portable, Parkside restroom across the highway from where we slept in the car.
Only this time, I was not in trauma body.
It was a choice, on a beautiful, sunny Monday morning.
My pace was leisurely. My heart was clear. Revisiting the spot of such horrible memories, a month later, really did help clear the karma.
Of course I took a shot of the camping place from across the highway, but figured that was close enough for comfort.
I’d arranged for my longtime boss, Rob Haggart, of A Photo Editor, to meet me at the car rental place, pick me up and head out for brunch.
I hadn’t seen Rob in seven or eight years, but we’d kept in touch in the nearly four years since I left the blog.
He showed up right on time, rocking a Hawaiian shirt and flip flops, and told me he’d had a nasty car incident in Idaho recently.
I was not alone.
We headed into downtown Durango, which is booming these days, and Rob brought me to a spot where there were a bunch of food trucks in a cool little compound.
It was bougie, but with great vibes, and he treated me to a super-tasty, Greek breakfast burrito. (Spinach and feta.)
We caught up, got along great, and discussed the state of the American photo industry, which is still in free fall.
(Rob told me about a photographer he’d recently interviewed who had $300,000 in billables last year, and $0 in 2026.)
Given how much I’ve been enjoying writing here lately, I offered to come back home again, to rejoin APE, and Rob said he’d love that.
Back in the day, we’d call that burying the lede, but it’s big news that I’m going to be writing articles, and doing video interviews for the APE blog and IG account again.
Rob dropped me off at the mechanics just after 12pm, which was perfectly on schedule.
There was the tiniest snafu, as we were having such a good conversation, (about the many downsides of the billionaire class,) that I notice the Welcome to Bayfield sign that had taunted me on my first trip.
“Where in Bayfield is the mechanic,” Rob asked?
“It’s not,” I replied. “We passed it.”
So Rob went to turn around in the first safe place he could find.
I shit you not, but he pulled his (big) SUV into the exact spot where we slept in our car a month before.
THE. EXACT. SPOT.
Thankfully, I didn’t have a PTSD trigger, but I did get out of the car to retake the photo I included in the first blog post.
In the daylight, the place looked totally normal.
Anodyne even.
And not much like a spot that caused so much suffering.
What was I saying about do-overs?
I picked up the car without incident, paid the fair but expensive bill, and started driving East back to New Mexico.
Knowing a deer could jump out at any second makes you paranoid, and locked in, so it was tough sledding.
But my car is much quicker and faster than the rental, so the driving was fun.
I made it all the way to my favorite pull-off at the top of the Brazos without incident, in great time.
The plan was to take a long break, have a pee, and eat the rest of my burrito.
But the best laid plans, as they say, because five seconds after I pulled into the rest area, (right after a coyote crossed the road,) I noticed a truck pulling a trailer drive by. (With a gorgeous old, red, Ford pickup on the trailer bed.)
“Please don’t pull in,” I thought. I just need ten minutes to myself.
When they drove past, I let out an audible sigh, but I know they saw my car, (as I’ve said, there’s no one out there,) so they pulled around the back way, and parked five feet from me.
In the past, I would have gotten bent out of shape about it.
(I can have control issues.)
But yesterday was a great day. I decided there was room enough for everyone, I’d pee behind a tree, and just take some space to enjoy the view. (The burrito waited for home, which meant I could share it with Jessie.)
The massive, stone mountain really is breathtaking.
Break over, I drove another hour, and made one last stop.
If you don’t know, the Gorge Bridge in Taos is pretty famous, both for its spectacular views, and because it’s a suicide bridge.
So many people have killed themselves there.
(Very fucked up they allowed it continue.)
For years and years, the State of New Mexico did nothing about it.
Finally, a few months ago, they erected some temporary fencing, having shut the bridge to pedestrian traffic a few months prior.
But you can get an amazing view of the bridge at a rest area on the West side, where there is also a trail, (the aptly named West Rim Trail,) that follows along the top of the gorge.
Knowing I’d be writing today, and wanting to share the view, I walked perilously close the edge, and got a couple of pictures for you.
Then I bought a lovely, copper bracelet from a Native American jewelry vendor, for Amelie’s birthday, hopped back in my Kia, and drove home.
Four weeks to the day after I felt about as bad as I could feel, instead I felt amazing.
A proper American West road trip.
Insane views.
Getting my old post back at APE.
Making pictures to share with you guys.
What a turnaround!
Sunshine and Olly 
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