Welcome to the Photobooks of James Hazelwood, the counterpart to my Notebooks Substack.
This monthly newsletter will showcase a different photography project I’m working on. The essays will feature numerous images accompanied by text. You can anticipate various topics, from entertaining, laugh-out-loud photo stories to poignant, sobering narratives about our world.
I’m seeking ideas, stories, and profiles of fascinating or above-average individuals. For example, I’m currently working on a profile of a comedian. She travels across the country performing stand-up, and when she’s home, she teaches comedy to aspiring artists and cares for her 83-year-old mother. We’re having a fantastic time as I photograph her life on and off the stage.
Some other ideas to spark your thinking:
A military veteran working through PTSD and finding a new life.
A 100-year-old person living an active life.
Young people tackle an issue or need, hoping to make a difference.
A group of musicians forming a new band.
Do you know anyone with these or similar activities?
Although Pulitzer Prizes may appear unattainable and unlikely, I hope to capture the interest of individuals launching new ventures, working on justice projects, contributing to non-profits, or simply sharing compelling stories.
Please send me a note with your suggestion. (Reply to this email or click here.)
But for now, here’s the first issue. It’s an autobiographical profile of a group of men sharing the open road of life while riding on two wheels.
Annual Bike Tour Keeps These Men Together
"Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to cycle, and he will realize fishing is stupid and boring." – Desmond Tutu
Forty-five years is a long time for men to sustain a friendship. Most of us met during the summers of 1979 and 1980 as camp counselors. In small A-frame cabins nestled along a ravine on the north side of Mt. Pinos in the Los Padres National Forest, we hosted fourth and fifth graders from various parts of Los Angeles for weeks filled with hiking, singing, swimming, and, undoubtedly, food fights and evening pranks. The kids returned home with fond memories, but we experienced something transformative: not just a single moment of mystical experience, but a lifetime of friendship among many of the men who worked those summers.
Over the years, we’ve each had our achievements and failures, built families, and faced divorce and loss. Some of us are carpenters, others are executives, and we’ve all experienced our share of shattered dreams. One member of our group is no longer with us; he passed away during the pandemic, and a few of us have had scares that made us more mindful.
Through an annual bicycle tour, eight individuals in their sixties have maintained a bond formed decades earlier. Our week together didn’t start early. We went our separate ways, raising kids in our 30s and navigating life in the decades that followed. Was it fate, divine intervention, or a scheduling conflict that brought us back together in 2019? Maybe that’s how things often go. Most of us rode bikes and somehow found ourselves in a disorganized group at RAGBRAI, the annual rolling party of 10,000 moving like a slimy amoeba across the cornfields of Iowa.
The annual trips and side excursions have taken us to Oregon, West Virginia, New England, North Carolina and France. What’s emerged contradicts the cultural narrative that men are isolated, bitter individuals with potbellies and no companions. Our text chain is more active than many TikTok channels, and the gatherings around campfires and meals are filled with stories.
These trips mark the focus of our year. The pattern begins with the week of comradery. By the end of our time together, we’ve renewed our friendship, but we are also ready to leave each other. Like bickering brothers, there is a limit to how much time we can spend together. But it doesn’t take long for the text chats to resume, and soon, we are planning next year’s adventure.
What I value about this group is our compassion for each other during tough times, our ability to laugh at ourselves and the world around us, and the strong sense that my life would be much poorer without these men in it.
You can view more photos from this series; just click here
More to Come,
James Hazelwood is an author, photographer and touring cyclist. His next book profiles the Holy Land and Jordan. He tried stand-up comedy and three people said he was pretty good at it. His website is www.jameshazelwoodphoto.com
I love your bike adventures, and hope to read more. My husband, my brother, and I have taken bike trips over the years, and so far I've turned one or two of them into books, called "Three old farts on bikes". We've had so much fun and numerous stories to tell. We don't ride any more, two of us are now in our 80s. But I hope to read more of your stories!