In 1982 I fell 50 feet while teaching my girlfriend how to rappel off the top of Skinner’s Butte in Eugene, Oregon. I leveraged out a large section of a Basalt column, which I was anchored to, and luckily it did not crush me. I broke my pelvis into four pieces, my ankle into five, and did my ACL and other minor injuries — spent the Summer in the hospital getting four surgeries and not pooping for a month. This was quite fortunate because then I got married and started photographing, otherwise I’d probably be a mediocre architect or dead.