middle of somewhere.
south on 93. the quietest of canyons.
I was gifted my grandpa's old film camera and accessories. I like to dedicate some of these to him and my Grammy.
I spent a lot of time with them, especially in the places shown, particularly with my Grammy.
a lucky shot. I spent at least once a week driving to north to salmon. I used to dream of seeing green trees, almost sick of the high desert. I wish I could see then, how i see now.
Familiar roads. The long winding turns that make almost everyone sick. The Salmon is resilient, against all of its outside factors. The canyons are quiet, still, as quiet as I remember.
adult version of my bridge to terabithia at Grammy’s.
more from grammy’s house. my parents house now.
Oh little town of challis idaho,
i didn’t know how much i missed you. After all, you tend to forget the scratches and bruised knees as you age. I can’t help but preserve these moments as much as I can.
foreshadowing for a later age.
some things never change.
Shot on a camera gifted to me from a family friend in Challis- A Mamiya 645.
my sacred waters.
A Memory - From the Waters Above
I learned how to swim in these hot springs. I remember taking my water wings off for the first time when I was about 5 or 6. Carla, the swim teacher, was yelling, encouraging me as I struggled to touch the bottom, my ears submerged—my nose barely above the water. I wanted so badly to impress her, to impress my older siblings, to prove I wasn’t someone to be underestimated. I remember her saying, "Take them off," or maybe it was something else. I could barely hear anything over the water. But I took them off… arms flailing, toes no longer touching the hot rocks beneath me. I was doing it. Even though I must have looked like I was drowning, I can see now what I must have looked like. But I didn’t care. In that moment, I felt like I was conquering something. I saw my mom on the sidelines; she looked proud, just like Carla.
I swam to the edge, I felt my big toe could barely touch, holding my nose above the surface. That’s Probably cheating, but I was still flailing around. "make it look believable" I thought.
Carla met me at the edge. I felt a rush of relief and admiration—though I didn’t have a word for it yet. Over time, I would understand. She gave me her signature heart handshake, called "smooth," which was probably the coolest thing I had ever seen. Then my mom drove us home. I kept thinking that maybe the next day I’d graduate to a higher class, or maybe even get to swim with the dolphins and porpoises alongside Carla.
But there was a lingering fear—what if I couldn’t really swim after all? Still, everyone was congratulating me. I guess I might have heard the phrase "fake it till you make it," but I can’t remember for sure. What I do remember is that I felt it. I finally understood what it meant.
That’s one of my earliest memories.
Final thoughts -
I see our younger selves in these pictures. Running on these bridges, driving these roads, and swimming these waters. My earliest of memories. I see the little ones, my niece specifically, now doing the same- living the same life. I loved this chapter of home.
Some of these were shot on my medium format Mamiya that was given to me by a family friend in Challis. First time leaving town for that camera. Other pics were shot on grandpa, my Canon AE-1. Grandpas birthplace.
an image from 2000. I found a roll about 3 years ago after my grandpa passed away. I sent it off for developing. this photo was on it. Him and I, on the back porch at Grammys. It was quite the coincidence as I was the only grandchild on this roll of film. meant to be. I will always think of it as something he left for me.
thanks for being here.
and thank you state film lab for these scans.
subscribe to stay in the know of more journal entries.