0007 - The Road to Nankoweap - Grand Canyon Day 4
We journey to Nankoweap, excited for our first layover day.
On the start of day 4 of our voyage we awoke at Nautiloid and continued along the canyon heading south. Today we would reach Nankoweap and planned to take our first layover day the following day. A layover day meaning that we wouldn't spend the entire day at camp and in the surrounding environment. A complete break from having to rig the boats, raft, make camp, etc. We were excited to reach our destination nearly 20 miles down river.
After brushing our teeth and rigging the boats we were off at 10:35 (per Hans’ journal). This would be one the biggest days on the river we would have so far. As we set off deeper into the canyon we had a small change in the vehicle lineup. Spencer took Nani’s kayak and Cory made his way over into Steve’s boat with Mike, Tess, and Myself. The day was relatively relaxed with only two class 3 rapids, and one class 4, making for a very peaceful day on the river. Steve lent me an edible which resulted in me spending most of the day in an unprompted monologue at Cory and the rest of my boat about concepts I had to study for for passing my ASCP-MB examination. In retrospect, I apologize to all of them for holding them hostage with my continuous verbal assault.
In my defense the build up to me entering the Grand Canyon had been hectic at best. From a bachelor party gone awry in Florida where 3 of the members of the party (including the groom to be) were arrested. All charges have been dropped but at the time of the incident I was incredibly stressed and wrapped up in trying to do whatever I could to help the situation. Immediately after that unfolded I spent the next 3 weeks as an absolute shut in studying for the aforementioned ASCP-MB certification. The American Society for Clinical Pathology, Molecular Biologist. When I’m not lucky enough to be rafting through one of the 7 natural wonders of the world I have gaslight myself into being a laboratory scientist. Studying for the ASCP-MB was a consequence of this career choice.
I’m happy to say I passed the exam and am now a board certified molecular biologist. However, it came at the cost of locking myself inside for 3+ weeks and becoming my sole focus for that time. I went to the bachelor party, they got arrested, I was stressed for several days contacting girlfriends, looking up relevant state laws, then moved onto the ASCP-MB saga, passed the exam, and had 1 day before we would drive from Colorado to Arizona to put in for the trip. So in my defense, to my held hostage raft mates, it was fresh on the mind.
Thankfully they didn’t throw me in river even as though there was ample opportunity to as we navigated the first of the 3 rapids for the day. Instead our attention shifted to the white water. Steve gave a small lecture to Tess, Mike, and myself on how he uses the oars to navigate the current of the river mid rapid. As took us through the rapid without breaking a sweat we turned to watch Hans and Spencer take their turn on the rapid via kayak. Hans had not swam even once at this point despite only learning how to kayak white water a handful of months before. He was making a serious campaign for doing the whole river without having to pull the skirt on his kayak even once.
The Kayakers had passed through the rapid without incident as well as we continued down river. I took up a seat behind Steve. Resting against the small hill of dry bags behind him I watched the scenery of the canyon come and go as we came up upon a small beach on river right. The group had gotten fairly spread out at this point and so it was a nice beach to relieve ourselves of whatever beer and hopefully water we had taken part in during the day. The sun was high in the sky and I took the opportunity to saunter across the beach and stretch my legs. While on my brief walk I came across mouse tracks running through the wavy sand. Perfectly preserved and undisturbed by any natural elements I took a photo. The tracks had to be less than a few hours old and in another handful of hours they would be gone forever. A small momentary treasure in the canyon.
Once the group had collected itself we continued on from this beach and made our way down river still. The Canyon started to wind left and right as we snaked our way through the flatwater. Trading off manning the oars every hour or so the day continued on as the canyon continued to put on quite the show for us. We were properly into it now, with the immediate side walls of the canyon towering close to a thousand feet above us and growing taller with each row of the oars.
Eventually we were almost to our destination, Nankoweap. Hans had told our party that it was a popular camping site. Boasting 3 different campsites all within close proximity to each other and that it was likely we could see another party there. At this point in the trip we hadn’t seen anyone since we left Lee’s Ferry and to be honest I was perfectly fine with that. However, seeing another group would be an interesting experience after all. We were at mile 44 and were about to set upon the last rapid of the day. Nankoweap rapid, a long class 3 rapid that took a large right turn and spat you out onto the shores of Nankoweap. The boats regrouped one last time about half a mile before the rapid and a small number of us hoped in the minimax to get some last white water action before taking a layover day tomorrow.
I joined the group in the minimax and took the “sport line” through the rapid. Taking the rowdiest approach we could to each wave in the rapid and laughing the whole time. Compared to the much larger oar rigs the minimax is a featherweight. It moves so quickly but is also easy to flip if you’re not careful. We left caution to the wind and smashed through each wave before we found ourselves upon of Nankoweap. A large sandy beach the size of a football field greeted us as we made it our home. We unrigged and found ourselves in the ever more familiar rhythm of our chore groups.
I set up my tent next to Hans’ and spent the rest of the evening getting into a drunk debate with Sierra about having kids as the others laughed and egged us on. It was a good night.
0006 - Redwall Cavern - Grand Canyon Day 3
Day 3 of the excellent adventure that is rafting the Grand Canyon. From mile 29 camp to Nautiloid. We encounter Redwall Cavern
On the 3rd morning of this excellent adventure, my nomadic river tribe traveled to mile marker 33. The home of Redwall Cavern. We started this morning just like the previous two. We were still getting into the swing of things. Understanding how chores work and becoming accustomed to the ritual that is the 7am “COFFEEEEEEEE” scream from the breakfast crew. After an admittedly slow start to the morning, we left behind our campsite at 29 Mile Canyon and headed to a place called Redwall Cavern.
Admittedly, I knew nothing of our destination. Hans had essentially just told me “It’s epic” and since we were already deep into one of the 7 wonders of the world everything at that point to me was epic. I thought very little of it and just went with the crew. I rode on Steve’s boat that morning. Hans would Kayak with Nani, Tess was on the MiniMax with Chris, Cole’s boat had the usual suspects, Spencer rowed solo, and Sierra and Adam took the sunshine cowgirl. Within about a mile, we were greeted with sunlight a welcome companion en route to our destination. The night before we had an admittedly shady campground and breaking into the light was a (literal) warm welcome. Although we were in the desert, the Grand Canyon in the winter can be a bitterly cold place. Especially in the shade.
Within the first mile of the day, we traversed through our first rapid. A class 3 rapid called fence fault rapid. The boats all passed through it seamlessly and then stopped in a downstream eddie to wait for our kayaking friends to do the same. The duo went through without a problem and then it was smooth sailing as we traveled deeper into the canyon. We would end up stopping for firewood, a vital necessity on river right. Since we were camping in the winter having a campfire every night was essential. And with there being no way of bringing in 20+ nights worth of firewood on the front half of our trip we would need to stop as often as needed every time we saw driftwood for us to collect on a beach. This would become a routine for us. Search, see, and signal for wood and then collect as much as we could reasonably carry on our boats.
Shortly after we collected our bounty of driftwood Mike asked Steve if he could row. Though little did he know that in between us and Redwall cavern was a shallow unmarked swift water rapid section. The current of the river would immediately take the form of a wide S-curve in the river. Mike found himself in an unfriendly section of water to start his rowing, especially considering before this trip he had never been on a riverboat before, ever. However, our resident expert captain in command, Steve, was more than happy to guide him through the shallow swift waters. Commands of “push”, “pull” and other river jargon-filled the air as his coaching led Mike to easily navigate the passage of swift water. As the 3 of us commented on the obstacle we turned our heads to suddenly see that we had arrived. Redwall Cavern was upon us.
On an adventure full of breath taking views, Redwall Cavern is one of the canyon’s crown jewels. It feels like something out of a movie. Something out of this world. To vast and to and epic to describe and even the photos I took don’t quite seem to capture the epic nature of it. Redwall Cavern is this massive cavity in the side of the canyon wall. It’s beautiful and well deserving of its name. We reached this jewel of the canyon sometime in the early morning. Completely alone in the Grand Canyon, we had the cavern to ourselves. We parked our boat on the beach and found ourselves in the company of the cavern. Hans’ description seemed almost inadequate as I walked up inside the cavern from the beach. I believe this was the first moment of our trip that truly took my breath away.
The cavern is massive. From the shallow waters off the beach and from the back wall within it are too wide to capture in a single photo using a 24mm lens. For both of the images below, I had to capture with a series of 5-8 photos and stitch them together in a panorama to be able to compose the image in a single photograph. The scale of the place is unreal and hard to articulate in words alone. Inside the cavern, walking across the sand floor I would snap my fingers and wait for a fraction of a second delay to hear in echo and bounce off of the cavern ceiling.
We would spend the rest of our sunlight that day on the beach and in the cavern. Taking part in various forms of recreation and inebriants we laid out in the sun, away from our dry suits and our worries. We ate sandwiches out of zip-lock baggies and Tupperware that we made during breakfast at the previous camp. I put down my digital camera and brought out the Pentax. We played trout on the beach, did wind sprints from the river into the back of the canyon, and listened to music on someone’s Bluetooth speaker. When we started this trip, I knew virtually no one aside from Hans. I felt like I grew especially closer to my nomad river family lying in the sun that day on the beach.
We stayed there until the sunlight slowly faded away. In the cavern, one final slice of the sun was slowly swallowed up by shade as the fell behind the adjacent canyon wall. I saw Spencer sitting there smoking a joint in the last bit of sun in the cavern. I walked up from my comfortable rock in the shade to join him. We both sat there and shared in a comfortable silence as we watched our island of sunlight slowly shrink into oblivion. As Spencer and I walked out of the cavern we saw the others climbing up the side wall to the south of the cavern to consume what seemed to be the very last bit of sun for the rest of the day. We joined the others and climbed the side wall, perched like birds some ~75 feet above the river bed we laughed at our good fortune as we watched Chris climb even further up the wall.
As the sun left us behind we said goodbye to Redwall Cavern and packed up our gear. I said one final goodbye as I walked through the sand floor of the cavern. Snapping my fingers with every step and hearing the roof of the cavern answer me with the echo of my snap. I said my final silent goodbye to my new friend and got back on Steve’s boat before heading downriver to our next camp, Nautiloid. As we floated down the calm water of the cavern I watched the cavern disappear from view. And suddenly we saw a new friend join us, a bald eagle was spotted some 150-200 feet up on the left-hand canyon wall. We all stood and jokingly saluted our nation’s mascot as we passed.
We landed at our next camp, Nautiloid, and made camp on its beachy shores. This was only the 4th camp of the trip but it was easily my favorite. Probably heavily biased from my appreciation of Redwall Cavern. Regardless it made for a great camp. There was a nearby canyon that we took off to explore as the last remaining twilight light was still in the canyon. Deep in the cavern, we found the remains of smoothed-out rock from a waterfall no longer present. The guidebook said there were fossil sightings in the area, so we searched for them in small groups. However, I unfortunately didn’t find any. Still, the small canyon was an appreciated bonus adventure before we all turned back to camp for dinner and a fire.
After dinner, a large number of us all sat around the fire. We read out loud from various books. And Nani let me use her inReach, it was the first time I was able to contact Angeline since we left the shore of Lee’s Ferry. Sitting by the campfire telling stupid jokes and reading out loud every night quickly became one of my favorite traditions our group started. Cory had brought a book of poems and nodding off to them with a mostly finished beer was my preferred way to end most evenings.
I slept outside for the first night of the trip at Nautiloid; cowboy camping. There was a small sub-beach on the south shore of the campsite. I found a mostly flat spot, laid there, and drifted asleep watching the stars.
0003 - music nights
music nights. good for the soul.
My taste in music has been an ever-evolving palette. Embarrassingly enough the first artist/album I ever really got into was Eminem’s Recovery album. When I was a sophomore in high school that album came out and with it, I first started to dive into music. Driving home from high school cross country practice playing Recovery on repeat from an aux-cord cassette adapter on my Zune (yes I am that much of a pick-me) I began to form my first-ever opinions on music. Up until roughly that point in my life, I was on a steady diet of Bruce Springsteen, Jimmy Buffet, Carlos Santana, and Train. These were the artists that my parents kept in regular rotation on our living room stereo.
As I grew older my taste in music thankfully progressed from Eminem. New friends, playlists, concerts, and interests started to shape my taste and I began to explore the medium more and more with each passing year. As an artist, my vector is undoubtedly photography. And my photography is influenced by many things; other photographs, graphic art, paintings, zines, movies, tv shows, etc. But, one of the biggest influences on my work is music. It’s one of the most easily accessible forms of art to consume. In the year of our lord 2023 being able to listen to any kind of music is almost an afterthought. Spotify, Soundcloud, Youtube, Tidal, Pandora, Vinyl, CD’s, the Radio, etc there are endless ways to explore the art form, and it’s something that nearly anyone with an internet connection can take part in.
I think that people from all walks can be unified by art. People of different languages, political opinions, financial situations, etc can still enjoy the same paintings, books, photographs, and music. However, music is one of the few mediums that can be so easily accessed by (nearly) everyone. There are hundreds of different ways to consume it and its appreciation largely does not interfere with day-to-day activities. Literally, as I write this entry right now I am listening to my Spotify Discover Weekly playlist. And as much as I love incredible paintings like Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights its work has a far greater barrier to entry for it to be able to influence my photography. It’s not as easy to buy a plane ticket to Madrid to see it in person. And even though I have the luxury of owning a 32-inch 4k display, viewing a painting in this way is still imperfect. It’s like taking a photograph through a dirty window. It doesn’t capture the texture, scale, or fine detail. Additionally, there’s a lack of digital infrastructure around other mediums of art like Spotify that music has. As cool as it would be there’s not yet a social following for apps that create a “discover weekly” of paintings or photographs. Music still reigns supreme.
Recently my best friend and next-door neighbor, Noah, and I started to host sporadic “music nights” to decompress and share whatever we’ve discovered in the past few days or weeks. Usually involving a bottle of wine, some pent-up frustrations about life, and a notepad to doodle on we confine ourselves to one of our living rooms and queue up enough songs to last for hours. It’s a cathartic exercise. It’s a night dedicated to spending time with friends as well as sharing art that we both enjoy. It’s a small exercise in vulnerability. Anyone whose unexpectedly been handed the aux cord in a car full of friends can appreciate that aspect.
“What if everyone thinks this sucks?”
I suppose that those of you who have any amount of self-confidence probably can’t relate to that phenomenon but for the rest of us, it’s a very tangible anxiety. So having a dedicated space to share the music we most intimately enjoy with our friends is an incredible luxury. Music nights also function as a space for creative thinking. For me, photography is obviously my go-to, for Noah who recently took up 3D design work in Blender, Music Nights are a chance to exercise these creative paths. For this particular music night, we were in my dimly lit apartment. Armed with my D850 I decided to only use my 105mm macro lens and shoot the scene as we traded songs on the queue. A 105 f/2.8 is not my go-to choice for this style of photography. In fact that lens is not even in my top 10 lenses that I would likely grab for this scenario. However, paired with a healthy level of intoxication and an inquisitive Noah we launched into an impromptu lesson in photography.
Which might honestly been more of a situation in which my patient friend was placating my overly excited self. Regardless, the night progressed with lessons in aperture, iso, shutter speed, focal length, etc all while being accompanied by everything from mid-west emo rock to vapor twitch. At its core, I believe that music night is a place to share what you love and care about the most. Whether it’s gaslighting your friend into becoming a photographer (spoiler alert Noah now owns a film camera and eagerly takes photos on our evening walks) or seeing what your friends are learning to make in blender, having a dedicated evening to sharing art and interest is good for the soul.
0002 - 4 years for 1 photo
The start of all this.
In the summer of 2018, I found myself living out of my 2003 Subaru Forester. I was working two jobs that summer. One for Louis and Clark white water and another for Snow King, the local in-town ski hill. This would be the summer of living out of my car in Teton County, Wyoming. It would go on to become the greatest summer of my life.
During this time I was a member of my university’s men’s cross-country team. This was the summer between my 4th and 5th (and final) year of competition. Because of this, I would also spend the summer training out there for the upcoming cross-country season. This would involve me running 70-90 miles a week. I would go on to explore every possible trail, bike path, and dirt road I could find. I would spend nearly all my free time traveling through national parks, forests, wildlife refuges, and countless river banks. As a young man barely in his 20s who had spent his entire life on the east coast of the country being immersed so extensively in the grandeur of the American West was impactful, to say the least.
All the views of the wilderness were incredible but there was one spot that stuck with me more than anywhere else. I would often pass through in the evenings when I was off work. Running along the trail system that encompasses Jackson Hole I would find myself drawn to this place. Located near the intersection of Ferrin’s and Skyline trail south of town was this incredible vista. I would find myself constantly stopping on my runs for 3-5 minutes during golden hour to witness the view and the sunset.
I never run with a phone and I wasn’t yet a photographer. I only had my memories and my words to describe this place to my friends and family back East. The summer went by and my time camping out of my car in canyons and forests throughout the county was coming to a close. On one particular evening run in early August, I paused there for half an hour. Watching the sunset behind the Tetons to the north and the snake river reflecting the gold light of the evening I decided that my words alone would not be enough to describe not only this place but the entire wilderness that had been my home that summer. I came back into town and bought a camera on eBay.
Through a series of unfortunate and seemingly vindictive events, the first camera I ever bought would not arrive until after I had begun my journey back east. Devastated by the fact that I wasn’t able to capture this place that had left such an impact on me. But it had knocked over the first domino on my very long journey to becoming a photographer. I would end up using my little Nikon D5500 relentlessly back east. Taking it everywhere with me and photographing everything that I could. Portraiture, Landscapes, Architecture, everything that I could shoot. I began my journey into becoming a “real” photographer. All the while keeping the vista and memories that had captivated me alive in my heart.
My final year at NC State would come and go. I would graduate with my second degree and start my professional career in science working for Pfizer. However, less than a year later covid happened and I would find myself living off unemployment playing video games until 4 am with my best friend. Trapped in a small apartment in Raleigh I began to daydream of escaping North Carolina. I had essentially lived in the state my entire life and nothing I had experienced there had ever captivated me like that summer in Teton County. I became stir-crazy and decided to take a chance.
My lease was coming to an end and I wanted out. Without a job offer, a place to go, or really any concrete idea of what my future held I moved to Boulder, CO. While it wasn’t the Jackson Hole that had captivated me it was still a new adventure. And with the unyielding support of my girlfriend, Angeline, and a ton of luck we made the move. We signed a lease for a small apartment in north Boulder. 1 week later, after lying on my resume that I lived in Colorado Springs (close enough to Boulder to be considered to be hired, but far enough away that they couldn’t ask me to interview on less than a 2-day notice. But this is another story) I got a job interview for a lab tech role in Boulder. They would extend a job offer two days later.
With a job and a place to put an air mattress Angeline and I would pack everything we could into my faithful Subaru. If it didn’t fit we sold it or gave it away. In mid-September 2020 I would solo road trip across the country. Angeline would fly out to meet me in Boulder 3 weeks later due to logistics. In the early morning of September 10th, I would say goodbye to her and North Carolina and drive west. I planned to take 2 weeks to meander across the country before starting my new job in Colorado. But, this roundtrip was planned with one place above all else in mind, Teton County, Wyoming. Back to view which had inspired everything. I would arrive in Jackson Hole determined to capture the view. I had a camera, lenses, time, and excitement. But, unfortunately, it didn’t matter. Canada and the Pacific North West had other plans.
Wildfires had ravaged that region of the continent all summer and when I arrived in Jackson the haze of thousands of acres of forest consumed in the blaze suffocated the county. Seeing more than a quarter mile in front of you was nearly impossible. On my final day in town, I would attempt to take the shot anyway. I hiked up the trail at midday and stared out at what should have been the vista that consumed my dreams for years only to see nothing. Just the hillside and a few trees were left unobscured by the haze. It had been two years and it still alluded me. Out of time, I drove 9 hours south to Boulder the next day. The day after that I would start working and my new life in Boulder.
A photograph taken by a friend during my attempt to photograph the landscape of my dreams in 2020 during my roundtrip across the west.
I fell back in love with the West almost instantly and explored my new home to my heart’s content. I released my most ambitious art project to date, An Analog Odyssey. But I still couldn’t shake the desire to head back to Wyoming to capture the photograph that had started this whole journey. Life, Logistics, and a lack of resources kept me from being able to go back. But, then in the summer of 2022, I had a new job, better finances, and most importantly significantly more PTO. Angeline had heard me rave about Jackson Hole and Teton County for years but had never been. We made the necessary arrangements.
We would arrive in town around noon in early September of 2022. We were greeted with beautiful clear weather and had no real plans for our first day there. My friend and local smokey Sean was able to greet us and the three of us chatted about what to do with our first afternoon in town. With the dream of capturing this view weighing on my mind. I asked my companions if they’d be willing to make the hike that afternoon. To my delight they both obliged me. We brought 4 cameras and headed up the trail. At the start of golden hour, we arrived. It was exactly how I remembered it.
After 4 years I was finally back with the landscape that had consumed my dreams. The view that started me on my journey as a photographer and by extension Nomadic Aberrations. I shot it in full frame digital, I shot it on Medium format black and white and color, I shot it on 35mm color, I shot it on aps-c digital. I spared no expense to make sure I got it right. Hell, I even took a picture with my cellphone. After 4 years I was finally able to come home with my dream image. We would spend the next 4 days camping out of Angeline’s ‘02 outback. And ironically the next day wildfire haze would once again fill the valley. But I couldn’t be bothered. After 4 years I had finally captured the image of my dreams.
Getting to spend the rest of the trip showing Angeline the place that very much made me who I am today felt surreal. The magic of Teton County was and is very much alive and I could not be more thankful for the place that started all of this. I haven’t gone back to Teton County since. I will one day, I know. For now, there’s so much more of the west to explore and that’s where my sights are set now. I hope everyone can find a place as magical and important to them as I did that summer back in 2018. I’m happy to say I’ve found a handful more since then. I’ll write about them another time. But, for now, this is the story of how I became a photographer.
This is the story of how running countless miles in the wilderness of Wyoming and living on BLM land in 2018 changed the trajectory of my entire life.
This view changed my life. I hope you too one day find one that will change yours.
0001 - get active in your own rescue
fight back.
Get active in your own rescue.
This is a phrase commonly used and known amongst the wilderness crowd. It’s a famous quote amongst stoics too. The full line is given to us by Marcus Aurelius and reads as follows
Get busy with life’s purpose, toss aside empty hopes, get active in your own rescue—if you care for yourself at all—and do it while you can.
I first heard these words in the summer of 2018 when I was living out of my Subaru in the wilderness of Wyoming. My escapades that summer had led me to nearly drowning on the lower GV river in Teton County. While going through some degree of shock when my friends made first contact with me one of them grabbed me by my shoulders and brought me back to reality.
”we’re not safe yet. you need to get active in this rescue.”
What would transpire that evening would become ingrained in my memory forever. Two more would be sent downriver out of rafts and headed into serious rapids. Losing daylight and having to rescue people from violent white water in near darkness; it was a paramount case of biting off more than you can chew.
But the moment and meaning of those words stuck with me. For better or worse I would find my life in jeopardy a handful more times in the years that followed. But the sentiment of what was communicated to me on that river would always echo in my mind whenever death and danger lured near. It’s an expression that reminded me to stay alert and available in the presence of physical danger. And until recently that’s how it stayed, a mental tool to use only for physical danger. But, we can suffer from things that are intangible as well too. I have had no shortcomings in that either. I’ve worked a miserable and soul-sucking second shift job from 2-10 (if not later) where I watched the summer waste away all while working for a company I hated. I’ve suffered from heartbreak that left me alone in dark rooms dis associating with reality, staring into the void. And very recently I was told I would be laid off from the job/career I loved at the end of the first quarter of this year.
While none of these situations present any physical danger to my well being they all have held significant danger to my mental health and well-being all the same. But all the while I never treated my mental health with the same urgency as its physical counterpart. The ideology of being active in my own rescue never materialized. Embarrassingly, I’ll admit that mindsets of doom and “woe is me” took its place instead and I suffered greatly because of it. It wasn’t until recently on a phone call with a close friend whose been there when I had to embody this stoic sentiment that it clicked for me.
Currently, my life sucks. A lot. In a few short weeks, I’ll lose my job and be separated from a community of scientists and researchers who have been nothing short of incredible. They’ve been some of the greatest friends and mentors I could ever ask for. And like myself, the vast majority of them will lose their jobs too. To say I’m distraught over this situation and the impact it will have on me and my community is putting it beyond lightly. In short, I find myself in a dark place right now. But, I can’t change the circumstances. All I can do right now is be active in my own rescue.
I’m unsure of what the future will hold for me. I’ve been applying and interviewing to a ton of scientific roles only to hear nothing back or get rejected after literal months of interviewing. I’m unsure of a lot of things, even next week seems cloudy to me. I’ve been in love with photography for years now, but as of lately I’ve sort of placed it on the back burner. I think I’ll start with my own rescue here. I just bought a D850 and soon I’ll have nothing but time on my hands. Re-building this website will be the first step. From there, idk. But for now, this seems to be one of the only things that I have that is dependable.
We’ll start here.