High Points: Black Rock City, 2010
Read THIS:

The Story:
This all sounded so easy when I cooked it up my 3rd year at Burning Man in 2001: “I'm gonna go hike up Trego Mountain to see what the playa and the event looks like from up there!” yeah, right tough guy.

Unfortunately and as these things go, in the years following that statement, every time I'd look over at Trego (usually with a frosty beverage of some sort in my hand and very little sleep the previous evening) the thought of paying the $20 re entry fee, leaving the event, and driving across that vast playa to 'go mountain climbing' was the LAST thing I felt like doing.

“Man what a mook! I must’ve been nuts thinking I was gonna go hike up Trego!” I literally said this out loud several times over the years.
And every time I read this now I still laugh too, because it's funny!

In the interim I also got very serious about my photography, culminating in my passion and life's work; “The High Points Project”.
Some people work on cars, and some people paint.
I go up and down mountains, usually in the dark, off trail, and alone to take pictures that no one else will.

During this time the plan morphed from a simple day hike up Trego Mtn to an over night trip to the summit, on burn night, for the whole night.
Yeah, now THAT is the shot! Right?

The sad truth however is, that I lack the self discipline to attend Burning Man and not, well... to not have fun and stay up all night doing it too.

Over several years it became painfully obvious that if this were ever going to happen for me I'd have to NOT go into Black Rock City at all.
Instead I'd need to sleep, hydrate and train in advance, culminating in a full on assault of this mountain and this project.

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In March of 2010, after nine years of waffling (waffle waffle waffle!) I made up my mind that this would be the year I missed Burning Man in order to follow a dream. Perhaps to do something that's never been done. I like to think it most likely won't be repeated anytime soon either.
And if anyone does do it again then I did it first he he!

In addition to my weekly activities of hiking, climbing and copious loafing, I began training in earnest about two months out. I began again doing overnighters on the High Points around Las Vegas with an overloaded pack. I had already done this a few times. I know these mountains pretty well and I can see my house from the tops of them.

But the Black Rock City project was something very different.

This would be a solo, off trail, back country mountain hike with a full (and I do mean full) pack.
There was very little margin for error.
Failure is always an option when I climb and hike here in Vegas, because I can always just turn around and go back down to the car, which I've done a few times too.
As one of my mentors once said “That mountain aint goin' anywhere”.
Plus Metro Search And Rescue (S.A.R.) is only a phone call away with that $7k helicopter ride.
I also file 'flight plans' with responsible parties who WILL call them if I don't check in on time.
Plan for the worst, hope for the best.
Stay focused.

Getting injured on this one was not an option.

Burning Man had already explained to me that if I got into trouble over there I was on my own. Not only did they not have the staff (volunteer rangers) to come get me, but the rangers they do have aren’t formally trained in mountain rescue in the first place. So anyone coming up from the event would be putting themselves at undue risk.

“Uh, okay, thanks”, the gravity of this reality began to sink in over a period of some months. I was going to the moon, alone, without much of a safety net.

I had GMRS radio contact with my girlfriend; the lovely Melissa (who many of you know as Malicious) who was down inside the event, gallivanting around in our barking dog art car 'The Neighbors Dog'. But there was no way she was going to come help me either. The rented satellite phone I had was really my only link to the outside world.

My best friend Michael back in Vegas had my flight plan with the number for Washoe County S.A.R. in Reno, and a list of cut off times for communication from me. But how long it might take Washoe S.A.R. to fly up to Gerlach and initiate a rescue should something go wrong was anybody’s guess;
4 hours?
8 hours?
12 hours?
On Tuesday?
I'd almost certainly run out of cigarettes and rum by then!
“Packing list note: add more cigarettes and rum”

Nope, this was the real deal, the big time, and all of it right above the Black Rock playa.
All of it is ‘right over there’ across the train tracks.

On another planet called FEAR.

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I left Las Vegas on Friday and drove the 500 miles up to Gerlach. I got in around 10pm. I entered the playa at the three mile entrance and skirted Burning Man's cyborg perimeter security forces. MAN was THAT weird; driving around over past the airport in the dark. I stopped and got out of my Suzuki into a howling gale to take a playa pee, tried to call Melissa on radio but got no answer. So I continued on up the playa. I was heading for the Trego Siding (train crossing) which I had marked on the GPS at 4th of JulPlaya in 2009. But I could see the dust plume from the white out roaring out of BRC was going right up in that direction. Screw that, I was still clean in street clothes from the drive up! So I turned and crossed over the tracks at the Frog Pond Siding instead.
Leaving BRC behind I made my way onto the notorious Jungo Road and headed east towards the foot of Trego Mountain which now loomed over head on my right. I had marked my camp site on the GPS back in 2009 too; thankfully it is down around the corner of Trego's foot, and out of the howling wind.


It was creepy quiet over there so I cranked up some music and made camp. After a bit I walked up to a small rise over looking the Black Rock and finally raised Melissa on com. What a great feeling that is talking to your best friend after almost a week apart. I turned in and crashed about 1am and slept like a log.

I got up on Saturday morning, had a great breakfast, and stared up Trego's northeast ridge. There it was; the thing I must do. It taunted me and begged me to give it a go, but not yet. I Spent the morning and early afternoon doing a final pack and check of the kit, and just sat around, waiting for my 2pm departure time. This was some of the most difficult time on the whole trip; just doing nothing and waiting. Man it sucked! I was chomping at the bit. But I'd rather be sitting down here with a cooler full of goodies and shade than sitting up in that wind so I waited.
And waited, and waited, man that sucked.

I didn't feel like soaking in Trego Hot Springs so I did some exploring. I went back up on the rise overlooking the playa and saw the most amazing sight; the massive whiteout dust plume coming off of BRC that headed east with the wind as far as I could see. I'm guessing it went for over 20 miles easily. It really was remarkable to see it from this angle. “just think”; I said to myself, “you could be over in that right now, instead (turning back towards Trego) you have to go up THAT”
Makes sense to me!

At 2pm sharp on Saturday September 4th, 2010, I hoisted 65 pounds of stuff onto my back, said a little prayer, asked my guardian angel for some more good karma, and began climbing up Trego Mountain.

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The first 500 feet of vertical up the hill were relatively easy. I was in shape, and I had been training. But after that conditions quickly deteriorated. At the 500 foot mark you come to a transition zone and it's an amazing place once I realized what I was looking at. Looking over at the neighboring hills you can see this ‘bathtub ring’ that goes around the entire Black Rock Desert.

This is the beach of ancient Lake Lahontan.

From this vantage point you really get a sense of what this must have looked like as a vast fresh water inland sea.
It was immense.
It stretched as far as the eye could see, and then some more.

I could imagine Mastodons wandering down to the shore for a drink and huge forests that probably blanketed the area back then too.

Above this beach however, things change fast.
What was the bottom of the lake and was hard packed sediments morphs into something I can only describe as ankle deep Styrofoam powder. This is decomposing granite dust, the flaking of very old granite; the bedrock of the continent.
This material was never under Lake Lahontan and sees very little rain or snow, so it's not compacted. It's very loose and crumbly. On the steeper sections every step forward results in a slide back of about half a step. It's dangerous stuff and the footing is anything but secure, particularly carrying an overloaded pack.

After about an hour of this slogging I could start to see BRC or at least the source of the dust plume as BRC was enveloped in white. You may find this interesting, the white out was ONLY over BRC, the rest of the playa though windy, was completely clear. Seeing BRC again cheered me up and I continued to push upwards into the gale. This was hard work, every bit as hard as I thought it was going to be. It wasn't quite kicking my ass yet but it was making me pay for every step by plunging into this mushy surface to find traction and sliding backwards. What pushed it over the top on the hardness scale was the emotional toll it was starting to take on me. I was alone, like really all alone. The car became a tiny little dot ‘way down there’. Eventually I couldn't see it at all.
The wind, oh man that wind was roaring!

It became the hardest shoot I've done to date, and I've done some uh, “less than sane” stuff.
Here are a couple of examples, first The High Points again;

More recently playing with deadly waves at Lands End, Cabo San Lucas to climb up on some slimy rocks and into a cave, yay!

Trego (Old Razorback Mountain on the topo maps) is not a particularly difficult hike. Other than a few 4th class exposed areas up near the summit it's a 'mere' 3 mile and 2,000 foot slog. But put 60 pounds of pack on, add gale force winds, and finally doing this alone.
All of a sudden it becomes a serious and committing undertaking that is a long way from help.

Though there are 50,000 people 'right over there', you might as well be on the moon or the Lohtse Face of Everest if you get hurt or stranded solo up on these mountains.
Even with the sat phone and direct radio contact with BRC down below, help is a long long way away.

When Burning Man told me not to expect any help, and I began to fully understand what that meant, the commitment and severity of this 'art project' went right through the roof.

I had never been this exposed before. I don’t like it and I also don’t consider this a triumph as much as I just got lucky.

Though I am blessed to have some truly world class photography mentors, almost none of them are mountaineers too. So I had to figure this out as I went.
I was drawing on my own experience and consulting with real mountaineers who maybe don't shoot landscape photography.

Just like The High Points Project itself, this was a combination of interconnected disciplines which all relied on each other to work, the failure of any one of which could spell failure to the entire project. The plan and evolved from simply day hiking Trego Mountain back in 2001, to now going to the moon in a rubber band powered rocket in 2010. It’s the burner way.
Makes sense to me!

This wasn't about taking pictures of Burning Man per se as much as it was about testing my resolve, and leveling myself.
Did I have it in me, and how bad did I want it?

I wanted this very badly and I was willing to do whatever it took, that's how much.
This had been taunting me for years now and this WAS personal.

This was something different.
This was remote, alone, desolate, and abandoned.
The event being 'right over there' only added to my misery.
All of my friends were having the time of their lives, and telling me so on radio every half hour or so. And here I was, ankle deep in decomposing granite dust, slogging up a hill in a gale, alone.

I became acutely aware of my own mortality.
I’m not making this up or trying to be overly dramatic for the sake of this writing either. The phrase “don’t f**k up, stay focused Cameron” played over and over in my head in a loop (along with the theme to Gilligan's Island for some reason) all the way up and down the hill.

This fatalistic thinking starts to mess with your head after a while; in fact I'm pretty sure it can lead to disaster if you let it get too loud in there.
At some point you just start saying 'shut up man! I got this!'
But here's the kicker;
Is that you REALLY quelling the fear and gaining control of your emotions?
OR simply ignoring or dismissing the eminent danger at hand out of fatigue, ignorance, or just plain dumb luck?

Dumb Luck, man that dumb luck is a pisser.

I began to wonder what Scott Fischer went through on Everest in '96.

R.I.P. Scott. You were the man, and you are still missed so much....

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But all was not gloom and doom either, not by a long shot.

I was and AM extremely proud of what I was doing because no one else had done this.
Not like this anyway.

The whole situation was getting rather emotional.

Looking over at BRC which I was now rising above that Saturday late afternoon in September
I'm remembering all of the INSANE LIFE CHANGING MOMENTS I've had at Burning Man over the years;
All the great people I've met, the unmitigated FUN, how it's just okay to be me & just the whole thing.

Burning Man...'sigh' we change more flat tires before breakfast than most people change all year. For no other reason than because we CAN.
Makes sense to me.

I got a chuckle from this, and finally I began to maniacally laugh out loud.
I was the cat who ate the mouse; I knew things other people didn't.
And here I was dancing over 1.2 billion year old granite miles from nowhere with little backup.


I paused briefly, took a huge breath,
and howled into the wind for a full 10 seconds, “whhhoooooooo!!!”
Then panting I caught my breath.

My eyes were wild with the thrill of it all, the feeling of empowerment, of reaching out and taking something I dreamt about for so long. The mountain clearly wasn't 'my bitch', on the contrary she was merely allowing me to know her and caress her just so. This was rarefied air and I knew it.
I knew I wouldn't be back to this place anytime soon either.
I felt extremely privileged and thankful at that moment; like I finally had the prom queen in my van.
We weren't to home plate quite yet, but goddammit - I had her IN THE VAN!

Staring over at BRC from almost a thousand feet overhead, I chugged down deeply out of the camelbak, hooted loudly again one more time just for good measure, turned and continued trudging up the hill.

If anyone had been watching me at that moment they'd surely have thought that I'd lost my mind.

And briefly, I had done just that.

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Hmmm, 'me against myself', damn I hate/love that!
“Shut up me!! Ooh look; blinky stuff over there! Don't f**k up Cameron stay focused. A three hour tour... (cue lightning)”

Aint it great?

After all of this hours long head trip and endless toiling I finally reached the summit where the gale increased to a roar, and it wasn't stopping either. Think of it like standing around on top of a truck moving at highway speeds; now capture some world class images.
I still had to set up and anchor the rigs, hydrate, eat, secure everything else in the endless gale, arrange a suitable sleeping location (no tent, right out in the open in the down mummy and gore-tex bivy sack), and get my head back together (again).

Then finally after all of that, drenched in sweat and mildly freaking out, I had to get to work shooting these sets.

Grueling and thankless work it was.
And all this time the light is slowly fading, the clock is ticking towards the blue hour with the Fire Conclave and then the burn itself. The whole reason for this insanity became crystal clear again;
To light a giant wooden man on fire and destroy him.
Makes sense to me!

“BURN THAT F**KER!” I screamed into the gale.
My words made almost no sound, they were ripped from my mouth and carried down wind.

To call this experience of watching Black Rock City light up and then burn down in the inky blackness of the Black Rock Desert from the top of Trego Mountain 'surreal' is a shallow understatement. There are really no words that can describe what I was experiencing.

This was cathartic, terrible and wonderful, ecstatic and miserable, engorged and starving, dying of thirst while drowning in pure spring water, all at the same time. Gravity had become inverted and everything was falling up into the sky.

Kind of like Burning Man itself now that I think about it.

I've never before really confronted or spoke about the wave upon wave of emotions I felt that evening alone up in the gale looking over at BRC until now. This experience changed me forever for the better.

I'm actually tearing up a little writing this so indulge me just a bit here okay?

After nine years of dreaming here I was looking at the thing.
I had it in my hand and it was in one word; EPIC.
And this was only half way too. I still had to safely get back down the mountain, alone. “Home Plate” with this prom queen was dumping the files from the CF cards out of the cameras onto the portable hard drives back down at the car. Not standing on the summit in a windstorm in the dark at all. Mountaineers die all the time by letting their guards down on the descent. It's extremely hard mental and physical work, and it wears you down too.

“The millionaire, and his wife....”
“SHUT UP ME!” :-)

Putting things into a different perspective for a moment, It's not that the hike was so hard or the shoot was so hard or being alone was so hard, or being alone out in the middle of nowhere hours from help was even so hard either, it's all of the above, combined.
It's CUMULATIVE and that's what I hadn't planned for in advance.
I don't know HOW you can plan for that actually other then to just go out and do it.
So I did it. And it sucked, and I'm not a martyr either.

I'm fascinated by the psychology of this trip and how I perceived it, what it's done to me and how I've grown as a result.

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My T.K.D. Sensi once had us put a 2x4 on the floor and walk up and down on it, no problem right?
Piece of cake.
Then we put that same 2x4 6 feet in the air and watched everyone quiver, tip toe, and ultimately fall off of it.

It's the exact SAME 2x4! The ONLY thing different is the perception of danger and our reaction to that danger. Nothing's changed except in our heads.

I've done harder hikes in worse weather here in Las Vegas, but here in Las Vegas the 2x4 is firmly on the ground. On the Black Rock Desert however the 2x4 is 40 feet up with no net, over hungry alligators. The mental game is almost as demanding as the physical here.

“Just sit right back an you'll hear a tale a tale of a fateful trip”

Looking back now 6 months later, there is no way I could have had fun at Burning Man all week and then pulled this off safely, it simply wouldn't have happened.
I'd be sitting here looking at other people’s images of Trego Mountain, and flying around the Black Rock Desert on Google Earth, and still dreaming...

This wasn’t fun at all, it was brutal thankless work. It was downright miserable and very serious too. As I laid down to go to sleep on Saturday night around midnight, with the subwoofers thumpa thumpa thumpa in the distance, I said to myself out loud “What the hell are you doing up here Cameron?” My words made almost no sound; they were stripped and carried down wind by the gale.

I was so lonely at that moment.

I missed my Melissa and the relative safety of our art car so much. We were talking on radio periodically but it only made things worse. I so wanted to be down there with her, and with my friends. Of course you guys were all in a brutal white out and I wasn’t so I had that going for me at least.

During this time I stuck up a conversation on the radio with a guy named Smokey from Sacramento. He was camped out around 9 and F & had missed the burn to stay in camp. All of his friends were out at the burn, he was alone too and watching from his perspective what appeared to be the greatest white out he had ever seen. It took a little bit to get him to understand that he was talking to some guy up on that mountain over there.
Eventually we parted ways and I was bone cold alone again.
I began sobbing.
Then I howled at the top of my lungs again and I felt better...

I told you this was emotional.

It got so bad at one point that I actually considered packing it all up and heading back down the mountain by headlamp, which would have meant missing the sunrise sets on Sunday morning. Good thing I decided against that bad decision, I was utterly spent.
That's when s**t happens.

After a few fitful hours of sleep I awoke Sunday morning and the subwoofers were still going. I love that, before Burning Man I hated it, now I can sleep right through it. The really good light with a sunrise happens about 30 minutes before the actual sunrise itself. So I was up around 4:30 to pack up the sleeping bag and bivy sack. I ate a healthy breakfast of powerbar and water, re set the camera’s on the tripods and again sat around, waiting. As the sky lightened in the east all of the little blinky lights down at BRC slowly winked out one by one. The entire city sat in semi darkness waiting for the evil orb to break the horizon. Waiting for the evil orb to fire up the huge convection currents that drive the white outs. Waiting to break camp and go back to the default world to escape the evil orb. I shot a few choice sets Sunday morning but really all the while all I wanted to do was start down the hill and get out of the wind, and crash in my truck.

Three gallons of water for an overnighter were barely enough. I even had a half gallon frozen stashed half way up the hill, which I conveniently missed on the way down. Probably because Gilligan's Island had now morphed into the Spider Man theme (the original with the big band). For the life of me I could not remember the lyrics to the refrain; something about “in the still of the night”.

“Oh damn, the water under the boulder!”
I had to drop the pack and run back up for several hundred feet to retrieve it, I could see the car, I wasn't paying close attention and was letting my guard down in this last phase, 'smooth move ex lax'. I made it back to the car with just over a quart of water on Sunday morning. I was pissing dark yellow, almost brown, yikes. I crashed for a couple of hours, and I went down hard.

All of this to take pretty pictures.
I must be crazy, stupid, or both.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy these images.

I'm Already dreaming about burn night 2011...
Maybe I should start a Kickstarter account to rent a Yak.
They have Yak's at the Empire Store now.

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(because I know a bunch of you are photo nerds too)

These were all shot with either a Canon 5DmkII and the amazing 35mm f1.4 L Glass Prime Lens on the front, or a Canon 40D with the 85mm f1.2 L Glass Prime Lens. These two lenses are alien technology from another planet.

And yes, I dragged two complete rigs and tripods and batteries up the hill. I knew better than to try and change glass up in that wind. I chose this combination so that I'd have the mack daddy 35 on the full frame for the big wide landscape shots, and the longer reach 85 on the crop for the city proper. I thought about using an L Glass zoom like the 24-70 on the crop, but I'm fast becoming a prime only guy. In fact I've just sold my 70-200 f2.8 to help fund the purchase of the 14 L Prime. "Can't touch this!"
I also had two humble back ups; the Canon Powershot G9 running the chdk crack, which (literally) bit the dust late Saturday evening. And (don't laugh) my 8mp Droid Incredible phone from which I was able to get off one text message from before it stopped working too. (five bars, no bars, five bars, ah screw it!)

I had both DSLR rigs professionally cleaned here in town in advance of the trip and only opened the Ziplocs they were cleaned in on the summit to start shooting. I've had terrible dust problems with the 5D in particular in the past so I was pretty paranoid about taking it out on the Black Rock again. It got contaminated out there at Fourth of Julplaya in '09.
Both rigs promptly got coated by playa outside & I cleaned the front elements (both with B+W double coated slim line UV filters) periodically for this. But the sensors stayed clean inside the bodies for the whole trip. I feel like I got way lucky on that one.

These are all multi frame HDR (High Dynamic Range) images, 'usually' 5 frames at a +-2EV spread, but sometimes 3 or as many as 11 frames at a +-1Ev spread.
It depends on the subject & available light vs. the actual dynamic range of the scene.
HDR is my passion and I believe it is the future of modern still photography.
On real estate, product, object, and landscape photography among others it simply dominates over single frame shots from any camera.
I try to explain HDR here, this was for one of my gallery shows:
I went to Luxor Egypt in 2009 to shoot HDR at the amazing temples. Another epic adventure. I've been blessed.
Read about the Luxor adventure here

If you want to see what HDR truly means to me and how it's positively changed my life go here.

I believe in sharing everything I know about this art form as my mentors have shared with me.
If you would like to learn more about HDR join us over at ground zero:
and bring your sense of humor too, tough guy!

Even with the main tripod (5D) buried under a pile of rocks, because of the wind, most of the night time stuff was shot as wide open as the glass would go for speed; f1.4 or f1.2
But I also used an external timer to go beyond 30 second exposures on the 40D. “Anticipation” with the laser has a two minute exposure in it among other stuff. To reduce sensor noise particularly in low light I shoot almost exclusively at ISO 100.
I almost always force the white balance too, the “Anticipation” shot is WB Tungsten, but there are a lot of layers going on there as well. On one of the frames I went to ISO 9000 for the fire.
I spend a lot of time working on my craft. It's taken years to get just to this point and I've still got a lot to learn.
I still do about 1-2 tweaks a day, every day, even if they're shots I've already spent time on.
I've gotten to this point by practice, hard work, and tweaking somewhere over 2500 sets over the past 2 and 1/2 years, as of 3/11. I love this art form, HDR is the s**t. Those photographers reading this who refuse to accept this will simply be left behind. Resistance really IS futile; it's already happening.

More post notes: I LOVE THE POST PROCESS!
It's AT LEAST 60% of the final product, after composition and basic photographic technique of course.

I take my RAWS (usually 5 per set but not always, 'Anticipation' has 9 frames stacked) through DxO optics pro to Tiff. From there they get pre-sharpened using Fred Mirandas Intellisharpen II, then they are merged using Photomatix.
I 'usually' do three to four merges and tonemaps on an image, ranging from absolute pure photo realism all the way to Godzilla smoking a crack pipe; way over the top (OTT, what I like).

Then we start layer masking, I use CS3 for post.
Over a period of minutes hours days weeks or months in this case I'll decide how far I want to take the final image. But I always walk away and come back.

I believe this 'away time' is mission critical to quality HDR work.

Noise reduction is then applied to the master and masked in and out. I use Topaz De-noise.
I also may use or not use plug ins like Fractalius,
more Topaz,
Lucis SE,
Fred Miranda’s Velvia Vision
and the NIK stuff (which rocks).
There are no hard and fast rules for using all of these incredible tools.
You simply have to play with them alot to figure out what you want them to do. And perhaps as importantly; in WHICH ORDER. I call this order the 'Sequencing' of the Post Process. And HOW you sequence is every bit as important as everything else in the convoluted process. Getting confused yet? That's okay, it's also why so many people give up and just hate on HDR; it's a TON of work doing this stuff. but the results, man these results just speak for themselves!

Often time, elements of the original frames will be brought to bear on the master too. Various dodging and burning is done and highlights are controlled, or in some cases pushed into the white for the sake of art. Almost done.

Finally I'll take the master as a 16bit TIFF converted again by DxO to jpeg (low compression) and start running 8x10 test prints at the local Walgreens (that's right). This is to judge basics like brightness, tonality, and contrast. It's basically 'does it look in my hand like it looks on my screen?'

I don't do my own printing because I like my prints huge and I can't afford the giant Epson printer or the ink to do this myself. To be honest I'd probably buy a medium format digital body and a Zeiss lens before I'd buy the Epson anyway.

The print houses I use are some of the best in the world.
I may test print at Walgreens (hey don't pick on Walgreens man!) on the quick, but I don't finish the work there by a long shot.

My hero Peter Lik has an entire staff working on his post work, I've got just me, so bare with me and thanks for reading all of this too!

These will be printed on either 80lb high gloss poster stock, Kodak Endura Metallic Paper or, Aluminum Sheeting.

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Thanks for taking the time to share in my dream!
Thank you for reading all of my ranting and blathering too!

I mean that SO sincerely.

The reaction of the entire community worldwide to this project has been completely overwhelming. I figured a few people would say 'wow man that's neat' but this has been different. Thank you all so much.

Would I do this again?
Well, ya know it's funny how stuff always looks better as you get farther away from it. So yeah, I would, in fact here it is July 2011 and I'm already running stairs again at work, training for 2011. What a mook!

I didn't do this to make money, I did it because it needed to be done and I had to see what it looked like.

Like The High Points project itself, I hope this work inspires you to make your dreams happen too, whatever they may be.
It doesn't have to be life threatening stuff like solo hiking up mountains.
It could be something as simple as finishing that art project you've been talking about for years, or planning the ‘bestest muthafuggin' theme camp ever!!

Or perhaps take a real vacation and finally see the Great Wall or the Giza Plateau, wait, scratch that last one…

We seem to have all of these plans for our lives, and then we're gone...

Life really is too short; so go outside and play!

And burn that fucker while you're at it too.
C.G. 3-11
16 photos · 15,106 views