I’m not sure why, in the summer of 1967 when I quit my job teaching emotionally disturbed children in a psychiatric hospital (a position I was hired for over sixteen other applicants despite not having the required degree in special education), I decided to drive my old 1953 Cheverlot to Colorado to photograph near Aspen.
Perhaps it was because the parents of the friend who showed me how to use the swings and tilts on a view camera lived there and he had a darkroom I could use to develop film. For two weeks I lived in a pup tent that I set up in a small campsite on the Maroon Bells Road. I was clearly not part of the Aspen scene.