Vita Abundantior

I recently realized that I haven’t yet posted any photos from my new job at Randolph College. Like the students I photograph every day, I have learned a lot in this semester back at school. I’ve felt drawn to this school since I moved here in 2010. The spired, stately, brick buildings overlook one of the main roads through Lynchburg and they always seem to glow in the sunlight; out the back there are incredible views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Many of my first friends in Lynchburg were students or alums of Randolph. Which may not sound surprising until you consider that the school’s entire enrollment is under 700. Although I miss many things about the college life I see around me, I am very happy to be climbing my way out of the student debt hole rather than digging further in. I’ve kept busy on this 100-acre campus and enjoyed some different kinds of assignments for the school’s magazines and web sites. The title of this post is the school’s motto, which translates to “A Life More Abundant.” It is simple but really speaks to the heart of what, I think, secondary education can provide at its best (plus it makes you sound smart to use Latin words). This is a very random sample of photos from Randolph from the last year.

 

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Psychology Professor Rick Barnes for the Honor Roll 2014

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Fall convocation September 2, 2014

National Championship rings for Reynolds Martin and CHris Mitchess

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Megan Hines and Reynolds Martin for cover

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Dress rehearsal for Greek Play Oedipus October 2014

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2013 Honor Roll Calendar

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Pumpkin Parade September 27 2014

2013 Honor Roll Calendar

600 Miles Later

The video is done! I wanted to hold off on this post until the video was finished so I could share the whole story all together. As this video hopefully shows, every day on the Appalachian Trail had its struggles and its rewards. The towns, people, and views we encountered all added to the experience. I could never capture or share all the memorable moments we had along the way but I tried to cut together a collection of scenes that give a feel for life on the trail.

Some of my favorite stills from the journey.

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Coyote Hunting

Trudging through cowpies and creeks in the dark, hopping fences and ducking under thorny bushes, I went out with a couple guys who have taken to predator hunting. Standing in a field, they scan the treeline with night-vision and thermal-imaging scopes as a portable speaker blares animals sounds to lure in coyotes, foxes and bobcats. They have permission from dozens of farmers in Bedford County to hunt on their land. Although they killed over 20 coyotes during the winter, we went out twice and I didn’t see any action (I’m sure my being there didn’t help). I’d like to join them again in the fall when they coyotes are more active again and fill in the photos that are clearly missing.




Line by Line

The framed drawings hanging in Charles Worsham’s living room look like the most detailed scientific illustrations I have ever seen. They are nearly three feet tall and Worsham told me it takes him six months or more to make each one. Sitting at his drawing table, often in silence, he carefully observes and then draws each vein of a dried oak leaf or twist on a piece of bark with quick, confident strokes of his mechanical pencil. The subjects of his still lifes are propped up next to him, untouched for the duration of the drawing. His attention to detail and appreciation for nature were carried over from his former work as an FBI tracker, where Worsham traced the steps of people and animals by looking for broken leaves or disturbed twigs. He says he taps into an instinctual level of awareness that everyone has but most people never learn to recognize.

If his drawings weren’t terribly outside my price range, I would have loved to have brought one home.

Bogotá, Armenia, Salento

Selection of photos from Colombia, during a week-long trip I recently took with my parents. Our long-distance friend, Diego Mendoza, was marrying Angelica Bonilla in Bogotá and they invited us to attend. We took the opportunity to spend a few extra days visiting Armenia and Salento, also hiking a day in the Cocora Valley. The food was wonderful, the weather cooperated when it really mattered, and the people we met were all very patient and helpful.

I took all of these with an iPhone or Canon G10, a refreshing departure from the 5-lb Nikon and bag that I haul around for work. I wanted to both test the range of those cameras as well as force myself to experiment with a different shooting style.

Angel Heart

On the afternoon of Halloween I was handed an assignment that at first I didn’t believe. And the more I learned about it, the more I realized how unbelievable it really was.

After photographing trick-or-treaters, I drove over to a hotel in Lynchburg and waited in the lobby with reporter Casey Gillis, her friend Jennifer and Jennifer’s friend Lindsay. Within a few minutes we would be meeting Derri Engstrom and her family, who had arrived from Minnesota that afternoon to complete an amazing journey that led to Lindsay.

Two years earlier, Lindsay gave birth to a little girl, Lillian, who seemed as healthy as any mother could hope. Not long after, however, Lil was diagnosed with a condition that required multiple surgeries on her lower intestine. At seven months old and on life support, doctors told Lindsay that there was nothing else they could do. There was, however, something else Lindsay could do: agree to donate the girl’s heart to another child in need. Lindsay and her boyfriend, Johnny, agreed to do it and had no idea where the heart went for over a year.

Five months earlier, in Minnesota, Derri Engstrom’s son Easten was born with a heart defect that left half of his heart almost useless. Enduring multiple surgeries as well, he was hospitalized and the Engstroms prepared for the worst. Then they got word that a heart was on its way and they prepped little Easten for his biggest surgery yet. The surgeon said it was the best fit he had ever seen. The Engstroms called it his “angel heart.” Derri said she always wondered where the heart had come from.

On the anniversary of the surgery, Derri sent a letter through the donor organization that eventually reached Lindsay, and they decided to talk on the phone. That led to emails and an eventual plan to meet in person. I didn’t learn of any of this until the Engstroms were already in Lynchburg, in their hotel room, getting ready to meet Lindsay in the lobby. I felt like I skipped right to the end of the story, reading the last page without knowing how it all came to be. Luckily, I got to spend a couple more days with them and discovered the depth of their connection and the improbability of the whole situation. They repeatedly described each other as “family” and the two moms treated each other like sisters. I couldn’t distinguish the tears of joy from the tears of grief that both mothers shed.

Here are the photos we published from that weekend, of brand new friends who had already been through more together than many people do in a lifetime. The News & Advance published Casey’s article on Thanksgiving, as Lindsay joined the Engstroms at their home in Minnesota so they could spend another holiday together.

Home Sweet ‘Wam

There are some stories that change your life. Not immediately, or at least in ways that are immediately apparent, but over time you realize you learned some things and your mind was opened in ways that cause your life to follow a slightly different path. And I think this was one of them.

May I introduce you to David Hofmann.

In a nutshell, David has been living in wigwams that he built in the woods for the past seven years. He collects and teaches methods of primitive living and certainly puts them to test.

I feel like I should start by mentioning (and thanking) Liz Bailey, who pestered me to take on David’s story. I still don’t know why she decided to tell me about her friend who lives in the woods but on three separate occasions but she mentioned that I should try to take some photos of his lifestyle. She also facilitated our first meeting, when David came to Lynchburg to borrow her pick-up truck to start moving his posessions to the site where he was preparing to start building a new wigwam. I agreed to go with him, committing to four days and three nights in the woods with a man I had never met. Truth be told, we did meet once before, by chance, at a small festival when I realized that the bearded man playing trombone named David must be the same David with whom I was planning to meet at Liz’s house the following day. I introduced myself as Liz’s photographer friend; he told me that the oxeye daisies at my feet were good on salads. I knew we would get along when, after asking David what I should pack for the visit, he suggested stopping by Wal-Mart and buying a bundle of firewood. He also suggested that I Google how to start a fire so we could cook a hot meal. If you know me, you know I am well-versed in dry humor and sarcasm. Anyway, we left in Liz’s truck about 10 p.m. and arrived at a small clearing near Afton Mountain an hour later. David led me along a narrow footpath about 100 yards through the woods, over a creek and up a hill, in the faintest moonlight. I felt my way into his wigwam and he lit a couple candles so I could see where to lay my sleeping bag. He offered me a beer, lit a cigarette and we talked for over an hour. This was one of the 16 frames I made in the firelight.

The next morning I was able to finally see my surroundings: the raised stone platform, topped with foam and blankets, on which I had slept, the inside of the leaf- and branch-insulated wigwam and the meandering path we had walked the night before. Due to circumstances out of his control, David was facing a move and a generous acquaintance had recently offered to let David relocate to his land several miles away, where he owned a largely untouched area of hilly forest. On the agenda for that first day was to visit the new land so David could scope out a potential building site and see what the natural resources were like. I did my best to keep up, undoubtedly annoying him with my naive questions, as he traced a creek back to its spring and noted the relative youth of the forest.

By the third morning I was feeling greasy and smelly but also quite comfortable with the daily routine of sorts that David had developed. Over the next five months I returned seven times and camped out a total of six nights. I feel incredible gratitude toward him for not only opening his home and his life to me but also trusting me with showing photos of his unique lifestyle to people he has never, and will never, meet. The following selection of over 3,000 photographs shows some scenes from the move, visits with friends, trips to town, construction of the new ‘wam and other aspects of living a life in the woods that I found interesting or important.

Writer Katrina Koetring really took to this story and adopted it as her own, bringing to light many aspects that photos just cannot convey. I’ve attached her article after the photos.

KATRINA KOERTING | The Nelson County Times 
Published: October 13, 2012

David Hofmann hoisted a slab of soapstone onto his shoulders and set off on a path he made through the Afton woods toward the developing wigwam he calls home.

Hofmann, 32, has lived in the woods for more than 10 years, preferring to use primitive skills over today’s comforts.

“People ask me if I miss the modern conveniences,” he said, looking at the windows from his makeshift couch, a tarp filled with hay. “I tell them I’m rediscovering the ancient conveniences. Sometimes they take longer and are on a different time schedule, but it’s not an inconvenient way to live.

“It’s just a different way.”

His fridge is a plastic box with a soapstone lid kept in the cool stream. His dishwasher is a series of buckets with warm, soapy water. A sweet birch twig has served as his toothbrush and in place of a faucet, he walks to a nearby spring he dug out for his water.

He hasn’t forsaken all modern comforts, though. 

He frequently calls and texts from his cell phone. He also borrows friends’ cars for moving and trips to the stores.

The wigwam itself mixes modern materials with ancient building techniques. Interlocked beer bottles surrounded by a straw-mud mixture, called “wattle and daub,” create bricks lining the bottom half of the southern side of the wigwam. Saplings woven together secure thewall of windows in place. The windows are an eclectic assortment from cars and framed-windows you would sooner find in a quaint farmhouse than in the woods.

A soapstone fire pit occupies the middle of the wigwam. The heated soapstone also can serve as a heated couch in the colder weather, something he’s done at other wigwams. Books, crossword puzzles and his homemade crafts are scattered throughout the living space.

Like the several other primitive dwellings he’s built over the past several years, Hofmann is making this one by hand.

More than two dozen saplings dug about 18 inches into the ground create the foundation of the peanut-shaped wigwam, which is about 30 feet long and 15 feet wide at the widest parts. Tarps provide the temporary roof and blankets serve as the walls for the bedroom and living room area while Hofmann decides what materials to use.

Each decision of the wigwam is carefully thought out before being executed; however, the overall design scheme is arrived at in phases. Eventually he said he hopes to have a peaked, metal roof.

The woods are more than a home to Hofmann. They also serve as his medicine cabinet and a grocery store. Countless plants provide remedies for things like bee stings, infections and even a plant that will draw out splinters — all resources that contribute to his “thrival” lifestyle, a term he picked up from a former mentor.

“We’re not trying to survive in the woods, we’re trying to thrive in the woods,” he said. “I took that to heart.”

***

Hofmann grew up in a typical house in Pennsylvania.

But even as a child, his father recalled, he spent lots of time building forts and practicing survival skills he picked up from books in the safety of his backyard.

Steve Hofmann said his son comes from a nature-oriented family. He’s also the latest in a long line of relatives who work with their hands. His grandfather chopped wood until he was in his 90s, and his great-grandfather dealt in landscaping, working on sites like the governor’s estate in Maryland.

“To see him with his knowledge of plants in the woods, it seems like he’s continuing (his ancestor’s work), which makes it pretty cool,” Steve Hofmann said.

David Hofmann is the first in his family, though, to turn his love for nature into a home in the woods.

His father understands that some would find that lifestyle worrisome. He’s thought about the possibility of a tree falling on his son, for example, and then there are the bears and snakes.  But worrying about his son won’t make him any safer, he reasoned, so he tries not to.

He visited the newest wigwam in August. He likes to bring treats from home with him, like bacon, as well as craft books he thinks his son would enjoy.

“I think each time he builds one he learns a little more, so it gets more interesting,” Steve Hofmann said.

Over the years, Hofmann’s made at least six primitive dwellings and several survival-style huts, constructed from debris, like leaves and sticks, stacked up. His last Afton wigwam resembled a snail shell, spiraling out from the bedroom.
The transition to the woods happened over several years.

He completed two years at Temple University, where he studied horticulture and made the dean’s list every semester, but dropped out when he realized it wasn’t right for him.

He spent a summer in little more than a shack in Delaware with a cousin and two friends.  His summer stay turned into a year and that’s when he realized he didn’t want a career, deciding instead to move to the woods where he found freedom from rent and bills. The woods also gave him a place to pursue his art and music.

“It was a summer adventure that became my life,” Hofmann said.

He’s spent the past decade in Virginia, four years in a shack and then six in wigwams on Afton Mountain.

When he moved to Virginia, Hofmann began researching types of primitive houses. He learned teepees, like his friend’s, were better suited for the plains, while wigwams and long houses were more appropriate dwellings for this part of the country.

“It’s just a different life,” he said. “I appreciate society and culture, but if I don’t get time in the woods, I start to crave it.”

***

Hofmann may live by himself in the woods, but it is not altogether a solitary lifestyle.

Tails, Hofmann’s brown and black dog, is a constant companion, going everywhere with him. Hofmann came across Tails as a puppy in the woods more than a year ago. He was unsure if he should keep the dog and left the decision to the fate of a coin toss, giving the dog his name.

For human interaction, Hoffman goes to stores, restaurants and other places in the area, as well as music festivals.

Hofmann also attends and leads workshops at Firefly Gathering in North Carolina, one of the largest primitive skills events in the country. About 800 people attended the four-day gathering in late June, up from the approximate 250 at the first one five years ago, according to the Firefly organization.

He likes to visit with the family that owns the land where he lives. In exchange for using the site, Hofmann helps out around the house and yard. They have a genial relationship, spending time together at their house and in the woods. Family members, who did not want to be identified to protect the privacy of Hofmann’s location, also let him use their basement for his workshop and a place to charge his cell phone.

Throughout the area, Hofmann does small jobs, like helping farms with the harvest and doing tile work. Selling his crafts at the farmer’s market in Nellysford is a key source of income. His handiwork includes primitive pottery, beeswax candles and beautifully crafted lampshades decorated with photographs, leaves, flowers or other natural materials.

He also makes his own mead from honey, which he trades, along with his art, with local people for goods.

Friends from the area and out of state periodically stop by for visits.

On a cool afternoon in late September, Hofmann and two friends — Anne Knoflicek, 32, of Ashville, N.C., and Bjourn Goodwin, 26, of Afton — gathered around a fire. They had a few beers and joked with each other while lounging on hammocks and a metal bucket chair Hofmann found, made from crisscrossed thin meal rods.

A few feet away, two roosters, killed and processed that afternoon by Hofmann and Knoflicek, cooked in a pot on a soapstone fire in the middle of the wigwam. Bigger pieces of soapstone and other smooth rocks surrounded the fire, creating the kitchen floor, separating the bedroom and the sitting area. Clothes hung from saplings, drying above the fire.

Music helped bring the friends together. Knoflicek met him about a year ago at a music festival and Goodwin met him about seven years ago at music night at Shannon Farm, a cooperative community in Afton. Hofmann still frequents music night. He keeps a trumpet, trombone and guitar in his wigwam.

“We all just get together and hang out,” Goodwin said. “We don’t care if it sounds good or not. We’re just having a good time.”
Knoflicek and Goodwin had visited Hofmann’s other Afton wigwam, but this was their first visit to his current dwelling. Both admire his work, and his resolve to live closer to nature. 

“I love the idea, and seeing him do it so comfortably is very inspiring,” Goodwin said. “I like being in nature and this is a way to do it all the time.”

***

Like the final details of the wigwam, Hofmann’s future in the woods is not completely planned.

He has contemplated living in a wigwam into his old age, although older people who lived in similar housing have told him that it is incredibly hard. He has also thought about possibly starting a life with someone in the woods if she enjoyed the traditional lifestyle. Another option is living in a house or apartment and having wigwams as retreats if she didn’t prefer the constant wigwam lifestyle. He’s even considered child-raising in a wigwam, with smaller “kid-wams” around the main structure.

“It could happen with the right set of people,” he said.

For the moment, Hofmann’s willing to take his future as it comes.

“I’m still in a wigwam, just me and a dog,” he said. “That’s how I roll.”

Country Motocross

William “Duck” Lloyd is a rising star in the quad motocross world. I didn’t know this sport existed before I met him but I learned a lot about it in a short time, just as Duck has since entering the sport several years ago. More experienced riders have told Duck he hasn’t yet “put in his time” to be racing as well as he does. However, if passion and dedication factor in, no one can say his quick success isn’t hard-earned. For instance, all of his front teeth are fake, after knocking out his real ones during a race and still finishing. And his “training” began many years before his first victory, hauling hay and feed and chasing down cattle on his family’s farm on a 4-wheeler. Most likely his quick rise in the national ranks is just indicative of his racing style: fast.