Some of the desert gang made a base camp for the spring holiday at Bow Willow, where there were nice small canyons feeding the alluvium sliding down towards the Salton Sea. Our small group included three regulars (just two photographers) and a few others from various disciplines outside the art world. One of the peripheral guys was Frank, who had apparently spent little time outdoors; he was strong but did not like to walk very far. As the sun was setting on our first day, the heat eased and the light softened for long and graceful exposures, but Frank became anxious and wanted to head back to camp immediately.
We didn't know – we thought perhaps he had become disoriented and he imagined that the affliction might extend to the whole group. To reassure him, we named every landmark and gave him the mileage and direction back to camp, raising our parallel arms and unanimously extending our forefingers.
Later, around the campfire, Frank didn't seem to get any of our jokes; our banter was gibberish to him and our slick desert puns fell flat on the sand at his feet. But we did learn that he was a remarkable guy – he worked in a highly technical machine shop where his job was to work up huge circular clamps from stainless steel, and these had to be perfect. Frank’s output was the inspector’s dream – every one a perfect circle.
Next morning, we walked north again across terrain gently flaring east. On a low rise, Pat White stopped to retie his boots. As we looked into the distance, I thought it was time for a quiz, so I asked Pat, a seasoned photographer and fine draftsman, which three things a good landscape picture should have. (I hadn’t thought of this ‘rule’ before, so I had no ready answer myself.) His agile mind seemed stuck. We walked on, but our movement, looking, and talking offered no clues, and Pat still came up blank.
Frank was ahead on the trail, so I caught up with him and posed my question. Instantly, he gave me, ”Something in the front, something the middle, and something in the back.”