This place: Indian Lodge.

It was built during the Depression, as part of a Civilian Conservation Corps project, and is made from thick adobe walls. It’s designed with plenty of ledges and overlooks and terraces, all set to command a view down the canyon to the east. I like it there very much.

The very first place I camped, when I was only 5 or 6, was at this state park, and I guess it imprinted itself on me: I feel right when I am there. I’ve camped there quite a few times, including a couple of solo camping trips. And I’ve stayed at the lodge often: for many years, I’d go there by myself for a few days every summer to read; I’d average a book a day. Later, when I started writing, I’d go there to write.

One year, when I was in the last part of a writing and photography project on roadside crosses, I took my laptop and a printer to Indian Lodge and would work all day, and late into the night – as I worked, I’d print the photo of each roadside cross that I was writing about, and tape it on the wall. After a while, there was quite a gallery. One day, just after I’d gotten back from having lunch (sitting outside in the sun!), a member of the housekeeping staff knocked on my door – she wanted to know what I was working on. She and I, and two more members of the staff, had a nice chat about roadside crosses. They all knew someone who’d died along one road or another, and all of them had a cross placed at the accident scene. I’d photographed some of the places they were talking about.

It was a pivotal moment in the project.

Davis Mountains State Park, Texas
photographed 11.11.2010