Gone West

It was one of those magical mornings at the races. It had been arranged to have the Tigercat on the ramp for us to photograph at sunrise. It’s a tradition that goes back long before I arrived on the scene and it’s one I’m very happy to participate in. “The Family” arrived around six o’clock to get ready for the coming light. This group of aviation photographers who have become such dear friends love to come together for these morning shoots not only for the photography but for the comradery. We really are like a bunch of kids on Christmas morning when we’re around the aircraft. We have that excitement, we say those goofy things, play those silly practical jokes that photographers who are close friends do when they are having fun. The skies were gorgeous, the photos really sweet, the coffee good, it’s just the magic that happens during the races.


The rest of the morning was special, spending it in the pits with more friends. The Odegaards are a great bunch to spend time with and I get in every minute I can. They were taking the cowlings off the Super Corsair and that big ass 4360 radial is a mechanical wonder I love learning about. I spent a couple of hours there asking questions and photographing the activity. I even got the opportunity, the honor to be asked to get up on the stand and help the pit crew and work on the Super Corsair for ten minutes. So I put the camera down and got my hands greasy. Great! And so the day continued on like it always does at Reno, it’s just a marvelous experience that I think every photographer should get involved with.

It’s an afternoon though I’d rather never visit again in my lifetime but I know I will. It is just part of aviation. Jake and I were shooting out at pylon 2 when the world stopped. From there we saw the dust plume at the grand stands and knew tragedy had struck and to who. After getting back from the pylons, after being asked to be a first responder, after the press conference, after lots of hugs…lots of hugs, the reality still hadn’t sunk in. We finished up this day in an office with other volunteers answering phones that were constantly ringing. It was the hotline phone number for those looking for folks missing after the accident. Sharon, Jake & I spent three hours helping as best as we could those on the other end worried about loved ones they had not been able to reach after the incident. Pretty wrung out by the day, coming from the very high to the very low, we headed back to our trailer and settled in for a short night of sleep.

We were very blessed this evening with an incredible out pouring of concern by all of you, hearing from folks in over 20 countries by the hundreds. With this response, Sharon thought she’d best check the office answering machine. A few moments later she dropped her phone upon hearing the first message. She looked like she had seen a ghost. I picked up her phone to listen. On the other end came the happy and jovial voice thanking us for the previous morning shoot. It was Jimmy Leeward, the pilot of Galloping Ghost.


We have been a part of this community for only a short but incredibly rewarding four years. Some of our dearest friends are the owners, pilots, Media Ops and photographers here at the Reno Air Races. I have written many times that this aviation thing is all about the people and Jimmy is a classic example. I wish I could say he was a great friend but our friendship hadn’t had the time to reach that status. I only really started to get to know this aviation statesman at our dear friend’s wedding but his big heart is legendary. When I went into his pits to arrange the morning shoot of his Galloping Ghost with #74 Super Corsair, he came out of his trailer with a giant smile, so very typical of Jimmy. The history behind my idea was not lost on him and he embraced the idea so the next morning at o’dark thirty found me lying on the tarmac photographing history. I had no idea though this history would have a very unforeseen ending.

I feel very honored when an owner entrusts in me their aircraft. I’m not talking about the monetary value but the trust that the image I take will tell the story of that aircraft. In this case it was two very unique aircraft coming back to racing, legends from a time after WWII when the aircraft that helped with victory were celebrated. With assistance from my treasured friends the Odegaards, Casey and his brother Brady pulled the planes out and 20 photographers were there celebrating the start of another great day by photographing these historic aircraft. Summing up once again the most valuable lesson about aviation photography I have learned and can share. It’s all about the people!

Photography for me has always been more than pixels and exposure. It’s always been about memories which is why it is so simple for me to insert so much passion into my photography. And it’s why I share some images and not others. It also drives me when I go click and when I don’t. When I go click, that image is recorded not only by my camera but by my memory which has served me well in recalling the images in our vast library. Many have asked if I photographed the tragedy, news agencies won’t leave us alone asking that question. I put the camera down, I did not want this memory recorded. Amongst biologists I have a well-earned reputation of dropping the camera when my assistance was needed because in my mind, it’s just a photograph. This was not the time for just a photograph.


Saturday morning, Jake & I got up before the sun like every morning at the races. We silently went through our routine and when the light came up, we decided just to go for a walk in the pits to find friends. Without cameras we set out. While we have our credentials on our wrists the site is under NTSB lock down but for some reason the security folks who I think recognized us, let us into the pits. It was eerily quiet, not somber but quiet. We saw signs of life and activity but the total lack of sounds, it was unnerving. We came to the second row of aircraft and saw our special friends who we made our first air to air flight with. And as after every tragedy like this, we all told our story of the events, where we were, saw and did. Pilots know that this is a reality of aviation that is very real and at some point in their life, they will experience. It still affects them since it is a friend involved, but it is just a fact of life of an aviator. We encountered and counted for all our friends which was a great relief. We were even able to check on other folks who had friends not at the races who are friends of mine. After a couple of hours, Jake & I wandered out of the pits (and with a changing of guards told not to come back!).

Life is a very precious thing! Dear friends and family are very much a part of that life. And as photographers, our talents and passions to record this makes us a very important story teller of this precious circle. So standing there waiting for the news conference to begin that went out to the world (I’m not going to comment on what disgusting spectacle that is), “The Family” gathered for more hugs, talk about our memories of Jimmy and recount what a unique individual he was his amazing skill as a pilot. We laughed, we cried, we remembered. And of course, we talked about our favorite photographs of the Ghost. And then, it was over. Two days before we were supposed to say our good byes, thousands of images and hundreds of experiences unfulfilled, “The Family” was saying their good byes. We took our flag off our trailer, hung it at half mast, started the truck and slowly drove out of Stead. We are grateful for all the concern and love all have sent our way. Our heart goes out to all who were affected by this tragedy, we truly feel their pain.



And to Jimmy’s family, our prayers go out to you. Jimmy was one of a kind and will be greatly missed. His passion for life, people and aviation was unmistakable and leaves a huge hole now that he has gone west.