The Big Empty – A Photo Essay

There are many roads in the desert that look like they go nowhere. But you always end up somewhere.

Breaking off from California’s 5 freeway, Highway 14 cuts north through the high desert. As it turns into Highway 395 it runs along the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains on its way to Reno, Nevada. Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the lower 48 states, sits right off this route overlooking three vast valleys in its eastern view: Owens Valley, Panamint Valley, and Death Valley. This lesser traveled area of California is sprinkled with sparsely populated towns that were once part of a robust mining operation chain. As the mines dried up the towns residents left. Gradually these towns decayed away under a harsh desert sun. What remains is a sun baked mix of relics and the resilient spread throughout sweeping valleys and foothill towns.

I grew up along this route and spent a lot of time in the booming silence of The Big Empty. It is both an inspiring and humbling place – a place where you simultaneously feel big and small. You can yell in the desert and it will both amplify and swallow your cry. At night you can walk between two countless seas: the scattered sands beneath which were once mountains themselves and the sparkling stars above – miniature giants in the infinite. And in between there is just you – a blink in time wandering and wondering among the landscape sculpted and shaped by the slow finesse of natures hand at a pace imperceptible to the short sighted.

What follows in this book is my personal documentation of the strange, the inspiring and the enduring things you find down roads that seem to go nowhere.