Summer’s Here! Time For a Great American Road Trip
Nothing beats a week or two in the car or on the bike.
It’s a chicken.
I gotta admit that a road trip is like therapy for me. Much needed therapy at times.
And although gas prices make it just a little less expensive than actually seeing a therapist, there are no shrinks with taco stands, interesting old codgers, or waitresses that refer to me as “honey” or “sweetie”, and that is very important.
My love for road trips probably goes back to my dad and mom. Every summer we would pack up the station wagon and head out to somewhere far away; Uniontown, PA to see my grams. Salt Lake City to visit my uncle. San Diego, Denver, and Albuquerque because my dad wanted to.
These trips invariably lasted two weeks. My brother and I would lounge in the back of that old Pontiac, playing cards or some sort of visual scavenger hunt to pass the time.
I usually won those, just sayin’.
My dad loved roadside attractions, and we saw them all.
The thing.
Some forlorn caverns in Missouri.
World's biggest mouse turd.
Whatever there was on the side of the road, we stopped, and he took a few photos.
I guess it stuck.
I am a devoted road trip fan.
Short trips, medium trips, month-long trips.
I do it on a motorcycle now, as well as my car.
I stay in dive motels, eat tacos at every meal, and will not hesitate to turn around if I see something I want to make a photograph of.
I have been known to sleep in the car in the middle of nowhere in order to rise with the sun and get those early morning shots that can only be done, you know, in the early morning.
I go alone.
It isn’t that I don’t like company on these sojourns into places I have never been before, it is because…
OK, yeah, it is because I want to be alone.
I don’t want to entertain anyone, be entertained by anyone, or be on someone else’s agenda when I am out on the road. I wanna do what I want to do. I wanna do it when I wanna do it. (Grammerly hates ‘wanna’… heh. Wanna wanna wanna… sorry.)
If I see a cool, local coffee shop, I will stop.
A side road disappearing into the woods? I’m on it.
An old thrift store in the middle of Wyoming, oh yeah. Stopping.
Here are a few of the reasons that I love road-tripping by myself, either on my cruiser or in my car.
- Ultimate Freedom: No group demands, no sidekick who hates tacos, only me, my camera, and the open two-lane road. Drive as I wish, stop as I desire. Turn around to make a shot. Spend as much or as little time doing whatever I want, when I want.
I once spent two hours wading in the headwaters of the Arkansas River, making photographs of mountain reflections. I was wet, tired, and kinda fishy smelling when I got back on the bike. I totally didn’t care. - A Self-Learning Curve: With each stop, each shot, I’ll refine techniques for making the photos I see in my head. Every environment presents a new challenge to conquer. And if I don’t conquer it, I learn something important to work on. I hate defeat… so the next time I work harder.
- Incredibly Diverse Landscapes and Environments: The US offers an abundance of landscapes. Forests, deserts, mountains, beaches, small towns in valleys, communities in the middle of nowhere. And a million or two amazingly interesting people.
I spent an hour talking to two women who owned a hot dog trailer in Booth Bay, Maine. I spent an hour rocking on the porch with a couple of real cowboys who had stories of their youthful exploits that would curl the hair of most college students.
There was a freak hail storm that pounded my helmet on a road in Utah, which turned out to be a blessing, so I couldn’t hear myself screaming in pain as the hail pummeled my legs and hands. The top of Beartooth in icy winds, or the scorching heat of the Vermillion Cliffs are places and moments I will remember. Forever. - Flexibility: Chase the light. Early morning or golden hour, I got it under control. Move with the sun, the weather, the seasons. Spring in the Anza Borrego, Summer in Wyoming and Montana, Fall in Colorado and Utah. Different smells, weather, skies, environments, people, and customs. And different tacos.
- Local Life: Experience small-town America. Capture authentic life, untold stories waiting to be framed. I love small town, rural areas. I love the people, the towns, the architecture, the general scrappiness of those who face wildly diverse weather, situations, and forces of nature.
I have lived in big cities. I will die in a small town. Hopefully.
- Unplanned Moments: Unexpected weather, wildlife encounters, fleeting scenes — these spontaneous events often turn out the best. There is simply no way of knowing what tomorrow will bring when you are on the road by yourself. And that brings a sense of excitement itself.
Serendipity and chance can make strange traveling companions, but they keep the trip exciting, and me on my toes. - Silence: Solo travel brings peace, allowing for deeper connections with nature, and more focused photography. I remember stopping to make a photo of storm clouds over the mountains south of Salmon, Utah. Forest fire smoke filled the sky, and the light was amazing. What was even more amazing was the stillness and the incredible silence of that desert. No cars, no wind, no motor… just silence.
I don’t listen to the radio, music, or books when I ride. I live in my head. I don’t want distractions as riding a motorcycle has a very low tolerance for being distracted. I live in the moment, plan for the next moment, and savor those moments just passed. - Personal Growth: The road tests you. Breakdowns, solitude, detours — they build resilience, patience, and adaptability. I could mention the time I was 60 miles down a two-laner in Montana when around a curve I see a sign: Not Safe For Motorcycles.
I was thinking how nice it would have been to know that before I ventured onto the not-safe-for-motorcycle road. Turns out to be a nothingburger. Just 10 miles of loose gravel. I handled it because the fear of gravel was over-ridden by the knowledge that getting to my destination before nightfall would have taken approximately 170 additional miles of riding. That day. - Sky Drama: From vibrant sunsets to a galaxy of stars, the open road offers unrivaled skyscape opportunities. They say the sky is the same no matter where you are. But I’ll say that the presentation of the sky is dependent on exactly where you are. A Montana sky with mountain peaks is different than a Nevada sky with deserts in every direction. Watching the Milky way drift over the canyons in Zion is far different than on the plains in Wyoming or Colorado.
- Therapeutic Escape: The open road soothes. Let the journey heal, renew, and inspire. Turn your lens inward. Make the photographs you want when you want. Or — don’t. That’s cool, too. No one to answer to, no one to compete against (and don’t tell me that competition between photographers doesn’t exist… c’mon, man).
This is totally my time. I can listen to what I want at the end of the day. Cue Coltrane, Miles, Reba, and perhaps Heart’s greatest hits. And I can put them on repeat. Try doing that with my wife and I spend the night in the car — even if we are in a motel. - Unrushed Exploration: Time is yours. Linger longer, wait for the perfect shot. Get up earlier. Or later. Or decide to wait until 11 to check out because I am writing that morning and the light ain’t all that good, so enjoy the warmth and leftover tacos.
There is no rushing on my road trips.
Unless the taco shops are closing early, then get the hell outta my way! - The People of The Road: Meet fellow road trippers, photographers, writers, vagabonds, wanderers, and bikers. Share tips, tales, stories of the road — both true and, well… embellished.
I have met some amazing people on my journeys. A few I have stayed in touch with, but most of us meet on the road, talk on the road, and pass on to the next part of our journey with a little bit more than we had when we met.
We are now at the beginning of July, 2023. It is summer. It is a bit cooler in the west than usual.
That means instead of 115 degrees out here in the southwest, it is only 112, so bring jackets and gloves. Frostbite sucks.
Get the keys to the Oldsmobile, or fire up that Triumph Rocket and head out for a few days or weeks.
Sleep in the car every other night. Bring a sleeping bag on the bike and hit a KOA for a shower.
On occasion.
Don’t let this season of travel go untapped. There are a lot of amazing two-laners out there, and you will find more than photographs to take.
You may find a little bit of yourself that was lost in this digital revolution that feels like a trap.
A speed trap.
Watch out for those too.
Hi, I’m Don Giannatti, a photographer and mentor for up-and-coming photographers. You can find me on my own site, Don Giannatti, and at my Substack site, where I also publish for creative people. All subscribers to my Substack have access to a free long-form workshop on the business of commercial and professional photography.
The photo of me by Carol Rioux, light-painted in Calgary.
