Posts tagged ‘dirt road’

May 4, 2016

Another right turn

By now we should be out of them.
Another right turn
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July 8, 2015

Dust Road through Weenen

Dust Road through Weenen
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April 19, 2015

A valley storm

A dirt road, South Africa.
A valley storm
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April 18, 2015

Surface dwellers

Outside up.
Surface dwellers
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Downside in.
Surface dwellers
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October 19, 2013

Zydeco road

There’s something uneasy about the country. You expect nothing to be around, and so it worries you a touch when you notice someone is coming. Are they supposed to be along this way? If they’re not, why are they here? If they’re here for no good reason how long will it take for help to get here? My friends live down this road where at night you can hear it coming from maybe a mile or more away. It starts as an unnatural noise up in the corner and then slides down to the horizon when you see it. When you orient the sound with the visual it then blows you away just how long it takes to arrive. Sound and light carry so well and from such a distance at night.

A few hours after taking this shot a noise rolled our way from way down the dirt road. It sounded all treble from the treeline but then became more distiguishable. Loud, upbeat music – like a party. Two vehicles traveled slowly our way, almost as though they were attempting to avoid kicking up the dust. It made sense. As they passed, I hid along a fence to get a good look at them – a father and son riding ATVs blaring zydeco music. They had fishing tackle tacked on to the back of their bikes, and the teenaged boy had hung a boombox off one of his handlebars. They crept by at maybe 10 miles per hour, grinding the road into a cone of dust behind them.
Zydeco road
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January 7, 2013

African bush trees

The grain in my last photo had me remembering this one. It’s not a very big file and won’t blow up well, because it is taken in 2006 on an older camera without the megapixels needed for that sort of thing. This bend in a South African dirt road leads to a herd of zebra or a hippo watering hole or a couple of giraffes grazing in some trees. I don’t remember anymore. It’s been six years since, which is unbelievable to me. The flight took 15 hours down from Washington D.C. and 17 back with a stop in Senegal. I’ll never forget the beret-wearing security detail jumping on the flight and scouring the plane – even looking behind the TV sets in the seats. One thumbed through my magazine while another blocked the door with a machine gun. We sat with our bags in our laps at midnight as an hour passed. Then on to D.C. feeling a bit less naive about how the world works. The views were worth it.
African bush trees
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