Boggan’s Oasis, Rattle Snake Grade, and the Milkshake Challenge

Real News travels fast these days with the assistance of social media; smoke was probably still rising out of the debris of Boggan’s Oasis.  The 80-year-old landmark, three miles north of the Northeastern Oregon border and next to one of the few bridges crossing the Grande Ronde River, it was completely destroyed by fire.  So I shared this on my newsfeed and memories started flowing.

This is wild country isolated by some of the deepest river canyons in North America (Hells Canyon and vicinity).  If you place your hand down on a table, spread your fingers out, and run a fingertip over your knuckles – mimicking mountains and valleys – the Oasis sits at the bottom between your middle finger and ring finger.  Sitting along the south shore of the Grand Ronde River that drains much of Northeastern Oregon. This is Chef Joseph and the Nez Perce country.

Grand Ronde

Grand Ronde River from Rattle Snake Grade, Photo: Mike Beiser

Boggan’s Oasis was originally an old gas station, café, and roadhouse.  It was a place for weary travelers to take a break and refuel their tanks and body’s.  They haven’t sold gas for decades so if you need that you’re out of luck. Top off in Lewiston or Enterprise on the other side.  To some the location is a destination or starting point. Destination for steelhead and salmon fishers in search of these elusive anadromous fish that migrate 500 miles from the pacific ocean to spawn.  It is a starting point for whitewater boaters to put-in for a float down the lower 16 – 20 miles of the river where it conflutes with the Snake River, some 20 miles upstream from Lewiston, Idaho.

Almost everyone remembers their first trip down one of these canyon roads, they are steep, and treacherous; especially the road that drops into the Grand Ronde, Rattle Snake Grade.  If driving from North to South, Rattle Snake is just before Boggan’s Oasis.  The drop is nearly 2,500 ft. in 6 miles (as the crow flies).  It is safer now; there are guardrails and turnouts, most of the way.


“To see in color is a delight for the eye but to see in black and white is a delight for the soul.” Andri Cauldwell                       DJI Black Friday Photo Contest 2017, Photo: TheDon

My first trip down the grade was horrifying.  I was meeting a group of backcountry skiers in Joseph, Oregon to ski in the Wallowa Mountains, so it was winter.  Leaving Moscow, Idaho after a workday, 90 road miles; an hour and a half – max.  It was a dark, stormy, and moonless night.  I was alone.

My aged Toyota pickup had a wiring problem, without warning the headlights would go out.  The fix was to pull over (in a safe place) turn the engine off, wait, and look under the hood.  About five minuets later start the engine and the lights were back on. Months would pass before it happened again and mechanics were mystified.

My headlights went out halfway down Rattle Snake Grade, giving me just enough time to realize the roller coaster ride descent I was on.  No “safe turn-outs”, no shoulder, and very few guardrails. The guardrails that were there looked more like livestock fences. Fortunately only a few vehicles passed me coming up the grade that night.  I would see their headlights weaving off the opposite canyon wall, get off to the right as far as I could and wave my headlamp out the window.  Because of the non-stop winding road, blind corners, you can’t go fast.  They all stopped and asked if I needed assistance. That’s just what they do on these roads.

Rattle Snake Grade, Photo: Ben Herndon

Seeing lights glow down in the Canyon and thinking I could get assistance or at least calm my nerves.  Also give my truck its required five-minuet rest, in a safe spot.  I pulled into the dirt strip in front of the Boggan’s Oasis.

Walking through the door and surveying the collection of things in the room, and there were many.  Several soda fountain style stools sat in front of a small counter and behind that sat one of those old three place milkshake blenders that looks like a “Kitchen-Aid” device with tall stainless steal mixing cups.  Asking if they did chocolate malts, the women behind the counter almost seemed offended.  Their specialty shakes were local huckleberry, raspberry, or blackberry. Milkshake

It was past closing, but she said she could make one to go.  I ordered a chocolate malt; she pored it into a tall paper cup and served it with the remains in the steal blender cup with a long spoon.  They pasted my first shake test, I would return.  It took me 4 hours to get to Joseph that night.

Due to my future employment I travelled past Boggan’s Oasis 100’s of times with many 100’s of people after that trip.  As assistant director and then director of the University of Idaho’s Outdoor Program for 32 years, one of my favorite local mountain ranges are the Wallowas.  Our program also put-in on the lower Grande Ronde several times a year.  It was one of our beginning whitewater trips.

At some point, on the return trip before going up the grade, one of our trip participants was challenged to slurp down a full chocolate / peanut butter shake before reaching the top of the grade.  This was not my doing, by the way, and really can’t recall the leadership inspiration behind this stunt or what provoked it.  But it required a fast pullover so the looser of the challenge could relieve the pressure, so too speak.  The “milkshake challenge” had begun.

If the milkshake challenge was never duplicated and remained only a story, it would survive.  This remained a strong challenge for university freshman.  Well, guess I tried it once, and not while leading a group.  Failing, I stopped before having to find a safe place to pull over. Boggan’s Oasis will be missed, but the stories will be told for a long time.


Rattle Snake Grade, Photo: Goggle Earth pro edit: M.Beiser

On a side note:  Using the fingers on the table analogy, travel over the ring finger and stop on your little finger, this puts you high in the Wallowas and Eagle Cap Wilderness. The Wallowas have peaks in the 9000 ft range, some over. If you travel from any of the locations North of Lewiston Idaho, you descend and ascend over 15,000 ft.  If you do a weekend visit high into the Wallowas and return home you have done over 30,000 ft of ascent and descent.  This in itself can have an exhausting and wild physiological effect on your body and gastrointestinal system, throw a milkshake into the mix and – shebang!

Addendum: Boggan’s Oasis 1974, proves they did at one time sell gas. Photo: From the Jim Rennie collection. Jim started the University Idaho Outdoor Program in 1973. Image Scan and Edited by: Douglas Rennie, Jim’s son. Thanks Doug.

Jim Rennie's

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

Thank You for Saving My Life – 30 Years Later

Sometimes it helps to talk or write about traumatic experiences that have occurred during your life – it can heal deep emotional wounds, pondered for years. Not long ago, I received the strangest telephone call. The voice on the other line asked if I was indeed Mike Beiser and had I been a Climbing Ranger in Grand Teton National Park. Then the man asked if I recalled a plane crash thirty years ago in the Tetons, Granite canyon, five people on board. I flashed back to my most powerful image of the rescue. I told the caller, “I clearly remember it – a five year old was crammed in the back luggage compartment of the small plane”. “I am that five year old” the caller said.

A long silence turned to nervous mumblings, mostly a string of thank you’s from the caller. Thirty seconds just crossed a thirty year gap. The caller was truly lucky to be alive and he knew it. He reintroduced himself to me as Paul Nebeker. His mother had died in the crash and I assumed his father had also. The fathers’ injuries at the crash site and a long cold night on a mountainside appeared fatal. I even thought I had heard later of his “not making it,” Paul informed me he survived. I explained that there were many other participants in the rescue and I was only one of many. He insisted I had played a key role in locating the wreckage.

Paul, his two sisters, and miraculously his father had survived a small plane crash in the heart of the Teton Range and a cold night at 9000 ft. Had it not been for quickly locating the crash site and supplying advanced life support during the night, they all may have perished from hypothermia and shock.

After the call, I realized an odd chain of events the winter before that probably led to locating their plane and them quickly.

On a Sunday evening in mid August 1980 around 7 p.m. a call came over the Park Service radio: a familiar voice that I could pick-out of hundreds. Bob was the daily point person of the Jenny Lake Climbing Rangers. “Calling all Jenny Lake Rangers available in the valley”, Bob’s voice squawked calmly. “We have a report of a plane crash someplace in the South end of the park. Meet at the rescue cache. Respond if you copy”. Other familiar voices chimed in – Jackson copy, 324 Beiser copy, Harris on my way.

A steady stream of people headed to a small cabin in lupine meadows turned into command central for rescues in the park, simply known as the “Rescue Cache.” We all showed up with overnight packs and arm loads of unpacked items. Family members, girlfriends, boyfriends, and visitors would usually saunter over, extra gear in hand or just to see what was happening.

Climbing Rangers 1980

Grand Teton / Jenny Lake Climbing Rangers

Bob briefed us. Jackson Hole Airport had notified the Sheriff’s Department of a plane crash some place near the south end of the park. A plane’s emergency locator transmitter (ELT) ELTs are usually activated on impact was being received at the airport, but they had no definite direction. Several sightings of a bright flash had been reported in upper Granite canyon. The goal was to locate and get people to the crash site as quickly as possible.

We would be working with Teton County Sheriff Department because of jurisdictional and aviation regulations. The initial plan was for all involved to meet at Jackson Hole Airport and stage the rescue there. Daylight was fading fast; darkness would eliminate the use and speed of a helicopter for quickly locating the crash site and dropping a crew.

As we loaded into vehicles, I remembered the new portable ELT receiver stored at Park Headquarters at Moose, which I had played with the previous winter, fresh out of the box, but I was hardly expert. We picked up the orange box as we passed through Moose in route to the airport. I sat in the back of a pickup loaded with gear, handed the instructions to someone to read, and started assembling the antenna as we sped down the road.

By today’s standards and satellite technology, this thing was a dinosaur radio tracking device, which seemed too large and heavy to carry in the mountains. But it was cutting edge at the time and very expensive.

Before reaching the airport, I switched on the receiver. A signal came in load and clear, so I positioned the antenna towards Granite Canyon and the signal strengthened. I was confident the plane was in Granite. Dusk was falling as we reached the airport and the clouds in the mountains descending. With No helicopter in sight, it was going to be a long night.

The plan changed, we met at Jackson Hole Ski Resort and took the tram up Rendezvous Peak at 10,450 ft. and from there we planned to descend to the crash site. We shouldered our packs and headed to the tram, as I thought how cool it was going to be to ride the tram at night into the clouds.

The tram was waiting for us, door open, half-full of firemen in heavy structural fire outfits and sheriff deputies with cowboy hats and boots to match. We Park Climbing Rangers squeezed into the tram. Compared to them, we looked thoroughly mis-dressed, in our colorful long underwear covered with shorts, running shoes, headlamps, and full packs; I held the strange orange box and gangly antenna.

They made several off color comments about our odd dress, pansies was echoed more then once. As the tram climbed into the cold cloudy night, nervous silence settled in. Renny, our leader, quietly spread the word to our crew to move swiftly when the doors open. We needed to brake from this large group who would certainly hold us back.

As the tram doors opened on Rendezvous Peak, clouds whipped through the air. Our crew streamed out the door and dropped off the top of the peak at a running pace. We knew the general direction. The ELT receiver had a strong signal. Our Headlamp beams cut through the darkness and chilling clouds, we quickly descended about 1000 ft.

At one point I stopped to tune the receiver and get a better reading on direction. The receiver was going nuts. I knew we must be close. I had separated from the group and they were going the wrong direction. I had no radio so started yelling direction. A few head lamps moved my direction and we started down and east. The smell of aviation fuel rose up the canyon; we all recognized it about the same-time. Our frantic pace quickened.

The plane was not visible until we were right on top of it, the fuselage vertical – prop to the ground, most of the wings missing. It looked doubtful anyone could have survived. To our surprise voices came from the plane. As we pulled away wreckage, my attention focused on a female in the front seat. She had probably died on impact. Some one announced – two girls back seat, and seconds later – a small boy in the back, all alive. The pilot was alive but in bad shape. The crash had been reported at 5:30 p.m. and it was now about 11 p.m. or later.

As the rest of our group started arriving, everyone worked toward removing survivors from the crash and starting care almost automatically. Vitals, body exams, and treatment started. Under the advice of an advising physician through radio contact, shock reducing IV’s and pain medications were started to stabilize the patients. 155636_168827776473341_2687756_nI focused on the children, unaware of what else was going on with others. I could hardly imagine the trama these young childen had gone through and had to face ahead.

The firemen and sheriff deputies started slowly trickling in with large spotlights which helped light the area, it was a bizarre scene. The severity of the father’s injuries, led to the decision to make a dawn helicopter evacuation. Two military Hueys would be flown in.

As everything settled down, the night turned cold. The firemen and sheriff crew started a warming fire on a bench away from the crash site. The smoke and an occasional groan of pain from one of the survivors broke the eerie silence. The eastern sky started to lighten. Someone had scouted a landing zone for the helicopters, and we put all our efforts into moving the survivors to the helispot .

At around 6 am the silence and fatigue were broken as two big Huey helicopters rumbled in – shaking the ground. We quickly loaded the victims, and one at a time the two choppers disappeared down valley. Silence settled in again as the sheriffs crew ascended to the tram. Most of the Climbing Rangers packed our gear and scrambled down to Granite creek and hiked out.

Our debrief was minimal in those days, usually consisting of swilling a few beers, briefly forgetting any grief, and moving on to the next rescue, usually in a few days during busy August days.

Paul’s call stirred long forgotten memories. He was trying to fill in his own blank spots of the incident and trying to locate the site of his mother’s death after thirty years. He hopes to do a tribute hike to the site with family members. I wish them the best.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Lorraine Bonney, First Impressions


Got sad news recently, Lorraine Bonney had passed away in an assisted living facility in Canada. She was 93. Most people have never heard of Lorraine unless they have spent time in the mountains and backcountry of Wyoming. She and her husband were legends to me. They were prolific writers of mountain literature, detailed guide books, and history.Lorraine_Bonney

This is not an obituary. I would never attempt that and I don’t know who could. She was in many ways a private person, yet had more friends then anyone I’ve known. No one seemed to know how old she was until she died. If you tried to photograph her she would literally hit you as she did me many times. On news of her passing, I reflected on the first time we met, it was so much her character. I was invited to her cabin in Kelly, Wyoming for a potluck dinner and slide show – bring your five best slides, or maybe it was ten. I can’t remember an image but I remember meeting Lorraine.

Lorraine was by far the oldest person at her party, 60 something, while all others were 20 somethings trying to scratch a living in the shadow of the Tetons. I was introduced to her as a park ranger. She growled at me with squenched eyes and asked If I was one of those “90 day wonders”. I assured her I was the real thing, not knowing if it was a compliment or not. I worked with some grumpy old farts and didn’t need anymore in my life. After all, I was in my dream job and worked hard to get there. My first impression of this legend was not a good one. I cowered in the corner and was silent most of the night.

Kelly Wyoming in the late 70’s was… an interesting place, an inholding of sorts, surrounded on all sides by federal land. Many of the residence lived in tepees, yurts, or DIY cabins. An eclectic and interesting collection of characters. A black eye to Federal Land Managers. Officially in Grand Teton N.P., but closely bordered by the National Elk Refuge and Bridger-Teton National Forest. The Park Service was aggressively pursuing private land acquisition. What a place to live and own a cabin. From anywhere in her sagebrush yard or window in the cabin the Tetons dominated the skyline.


Lorraine joined a University of Idaho group in 1983, climbing Popo (pictured), Izta, and Orizaba, 17-18,000′ volcanoes.  She was 60 something. I always liked her well used Nikon F1 camera.

For Lorraine life seemed to have started at 60. Our paths crossed again at Kelly Warm Springs were she was alone and trying to learn to roll a kayak. I was there practicing my roll so we spotted each other. Our first impressions of each other warmed when she learned I was not a badge toting, gun slinging ranger, but a Jenny Lake climbing ranger with no desire or ability to take her land (which the Park now owns). Perceptions die hard in Kelly. She was preparing to kayak the Middle Fork of the Salmon. I wished her luck. Many trips followed for her, Nepal, Africa, China, Mexico, a stint working in Antarctica, sailing in the Caribbean. Writing, writing, always having several projects going. She seemed tireless.

Little did I know – I would spend a considerable amount of time getting Lorraine “up this mountain or that mountain” she said. On a river trip down the the class 4 Selway River in Idaho, in her early 70’s, we would not let her kayak (she had lost her roll) and begrudgingly sat in a raft. Not long after, in her late 70’s I assisted her on a last attempt of the Grand Teton, at the Lower Saddle (11,600′), with tears in her eyes she exclaimed  “I’m pooped out”.  It was all time well spent for me.


Images shot on my last visit and yes she hit me with a small boxing glove on a stick.

Most of my “Lorraine Adventures” were at the coaxing of one of her closest friends Kent Houston. It was with him that I traveled to Canada for what became a last visit. At 90 something (we now know she was 92) it was as if nothing had changed. After driving 12 hours, we stood out side her building in the cold winter air, talking to an intercom. The attendant said Lorraine didn’t want to see us. I again thought, I don’t need another grumpy old fart in my life. The next day found us running down a hill to a doctors appointment, Lorraine in a wheel chair, laughing like kids who just cheated death.  My first impression was not a lasting one. Rest peacefully Lorraine.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

Moscow Mountain Ski Tour, Past and Present


Fall, Winter, Spring

Had a ski date with my daughter Genoa recently. The day was full conditions. So instead of skidding north on the “goat trail” (highway 95) for several hours both directions, we chose to stay closer to home and do a mountain tour on nearby Moscow Mountain. The conditions have been excellent so far this season. As we geared up at the winter trailhead I recalled a story I had written about my first experience ski touring here 35 years earlier. I post it here for her to read and share with anyone else so inclined to get lost on Moscow Mountain.  Enjoy.


Moscow Mountain, outside of Moscow Idaho, has long been the harbinger for a snowy winter escape from the lower elevation, sloppy winter days of the Palouse. My first fall at Washington State University, I was in search of an early season ski tour close to home. After migrating from winters in Grand Teton National Park, I was remised; and having watched the top of

Moscow Mountain go white with snow several times during late fall storms, it was my first choice. I was directed to “good access -maybe plowed” on the east end of the mountain by taking a left turn in Troy, Idaho. I was surprised by the amount of snow as the road climbed 1,500 feet; no snow had accumulated on the Palouse below. As told, the road ended at a plowed turn-around. I slapped my skis on for the first tour of the season.

Skiing up the unplowed road cut for a half-mile or so, rounding a long bend, the road leveled off. Being alone, on an unfamiliar mountain road, on a stormy day can be a little unnerving at times. Noises come from all directions as the wind swirls through the trees. The blowing snow and mist momentarily create characters larger-than-life, and then disappear. In a clearing, I could make out an A-framed building, the towers of an old T-bar ski lift, and other features of an old, man-made ski area. I stopped and for a moment the old ski hill came to life. The hum of the diesel generator, the ski lift cable screeching around the bull wheel, children’s screaming voices and laughter, a skier in 50’s style stretch ski pants zipped by, and smoke curled out the ski lodge chimney. I had stumbled across the old Tamarack Ski Area.

Tamarack Ski Area was created in 1965 by a group of local residents, most of which were associated with the University of Idaho. After gathering fifteen years of snow pack data for several sites in Latah County, the site six miles from Troy, at 4000 feet on Moscow Mountain’s east end, became Tamarack. Tamarack had problems from the beginning – snow plowing was expensive, power lines were non-existent, and weather and snow conditions were inconsistent. It went bankrupt around 1970. Several revival attempts failed to turn a profit. In 1992, the city of Troy turned a 100% profit when they bought and sold the lift to Cottonwood Butte, one of Idaho’s last remaining small ski hills outside of Cottonwood, Idaho. The A-frame building was scuttled and the foundation removed; today all that exists is a level spot where the lodge used to sit.

Continuing up the road for several miles, I wondered what else I might stumble across this snowy day. The road wound around to the north side of the mountain and continued to climb through dense cedars. Soon, I was


photo: Roger Ames

surrounded by giant cedar trees, their bark plastered with snow. I wondered how they had escaped the axe; perhaps they were too hard to get to, too big, or owned by someone who cherished their beauty. I stopped, and watch the cedars fill up with snow. Hearing no voices, no machines, and seeing no smoke, I felt at peace.

Unlike Tamarack, the cedar grove is still there. “They are a cathedral of trees” said Dirk Kempthorne, Secretary of the U.S. Department of the Interior, Idaho’s ex-Governor, and a graduate of the University of Idaho. He was so inspired by them, he was married at that spot.

Largely spared from disturbance by its location on top of a steep 4700 feet ridge, this 300-acre parcel of state school trust land is home to an ancient grove of western red cedars estimated to be 600 to 1000 years old. It is one of the best preserved examples of western red cedar/larch habitat in Idaho.

Members of the local community have been working to protect these trees and their surrounding habitat for over twenty years. As part of the school trust endowment, the Idaho Constitution requires the land be managed for the maximum long term economic return to the trust – money that helps pay for Idaho’s public schools. To avoid turning ancient cedars into, posts, rails, and shakes; At one time the Nature Conservancy arranged a special use lease for the land, to gain time, while a land exchange between the conservancy or local government and the state could be worked out.

Also a past deal was struck between the State of Idaho Department of Lands (IDL) and Latah County Commissioners to work on short and long term management plans for the preservation of the cedar grove for social and educational purposes. There is still work to be done.  (currently the land responsibility “wish I could say management” resides with IDL, is classified as research / educational, the next best thing to an Idaho National Park).  

Moscow Mountain provides a great “close to home” winter experience for people in search of snow for ski touring or snowshoeing. The remains of Tamarack Ski Area no longer exist and as you travel up the road you will pass large clear-cut patches of timber (much of it cedar) before arriving at the “cathedral of trees”. Hopefully they will remain.

If You Go:   (Go East, up 1,500 feet Rule)

Unfortunately, for much of the winter Moscow and Pullman have little snow on the ground due to their (snow / melt / freeze) climate pattern. All one has to do is go east or up 1,500 feet in elevation and you will find ample snow, most winters.

At over 5000 feet, Moscow Mountain receives the most snow in our vicinity, but access can be tricky during winter months. The best access for snow sports is via Tamarack road. It is plowed to about 3,500 feet most winters. This fits the “go east-up 1,500” rule well. Drive east on Idaho 8 to Troy. At Troy, take Randall Flats Road to Tamarack Road. Follow Tamarack Road until it’s no longer plowed. Tours follow snowbound roads and logging trails to the top of Moscow Mountain. The Giant Cedar Grove is about 2.5 miles out the main road (which is currently hard to follow with recent logging activity)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

20,000 Road Miles | 20,000 Images


A year in images

I have always admired Ansel Adams, his work and his life style. Traveling the continent creating images that no one questions as art. With a similar enthusiasm I loaded cameras, lenses, tripods, and camping gear into a small Toyota this year and drove coast to coast. Un-like Adams, who photographed mostly National Parks. My goal was to avoid those “Dark Green Spots” on the map…  mostly, and shoot what presented itself, “Man with a camera”, so to speak. 20,000 miles and 20,000 images, a year in images. Thanks to the many people that have supported my work.



Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Photographing in a Polar Vortex

The recent “Polar Vortex” phenomenon in the media, which covered half of the United States, reminded me of taking photos in similar occurrences in other places on earth… as you go to extreme high altitude.  This time was on Cotopaxi in Ecuador, a 17,000 ft. giant volcano.

Thinking the media created yet another dazzling weather term – I looked it up, the phenomenon is real, repeatable occurrences were observed and first recorded in 1856.  It is basically… really f-ing cold.


Taking photos in extreme climate create real challenges, below zero degrees (F).  Creativity diminishes as the temperature drops, toes and fingers… numb – minimize brain connectivity, condensation on the camera ices instantly, and battery life fades fast.  You fumble, scratch ice off the lens, take a shot, and hope at least one image turns out.

These images are from one of the last roles of 35mm Kodachrome 64 film I shot.  So the elements of keeping film from cracking and breaking from the cold was a concern.  Not so in the digital age.



Posted in Images, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

2013 Highlights in Images

A talented photojournalist acquaintance posted “2013 the Best of” his work and images Charlie Litchfield.  It inspired me to go back and reflect on where my lens has taken me this year.  I branched out this year and excepted any request that challenged me in a new direction.  A military formal ball – prom style portable studio set-up, a High School Reunion – class of ’73, a triathlon, the usual “on going projects” and wedding cakes.  Trying to make a living wage as a photographer in a small Idaho college town can be a challenge and rewarding.  My photographs are not perfect but they reflect the relationships and images I strive to make.  Happy New Year
Asked to shoot the ROTC Navy Ball…  I was not content to stick with the formal script and tried to find the inner-Marine.  I found it…  and now have a better portable studio, blue mottled back drop and all.

I am always honored when asked to shoot a wedding, especially a destination wedding like Jess and Matt’s at the River Dance Lodge near the intersection of the Selway, Locsha, and Clearwater Rivers in Central Idaho. Melding with the families as a member and not just “the Photographer” is the only way to record reality.  Non-wedding photography – photography. Thanks for allowing me the honor.  more…

Having been Asked to shoot the Palouse Sprint Triathlon for several years I finally agreed, only I was schedule to river guide that day so I collaborated with a talented second shooter Colt Fetters , in this case he shot most of the images, I edited and distributed them.  He said it was like shooting a soccer game, football game, and bike race at the same time.

Asked to do the group photos for Moscow High School 1973 class reunion and a few candids, I stayed around and enjoyed the energy that surrounds reunions. 

A few more images of “on going projects”.

Posted in Images | 1 Comment