This week, Egidio takes the helm for our challenge and invites us to explore where a simple path might take us. He writes, “However you read it — literally, compositionally, or metaphorically — I’d love to see where your response leads. Post your photo, link back here, and let’s see all the different ways a path can lead…“ You can read his entire challenge post here.
Compositionally, the white line in the opening photo draws the eye over the edge of Sitgreaves Pass and directly to the sign naming the location. It’s as literal as a photo can get. But this challenge is also about journeys, and Route 66 is one of America’s great ones. Where does it lead? From 1926 to 1985, you could drive a single highway from Chicago to Los Angeles. Sitgreaves Pass is just one small part of the fabled Mother Road—a high point in every sense, offering a view as unforgettable as the journey itself.
Driving through South Dakota, I noticed a DEAD END sign marking a short gravel road. The road leads only to barricades and a cemetery entrance—in the photo, a literal dead end becomes metaphorical.
Some paths are defined by where they touch the earth, others by where they lead the eye. Framed from above, the runway’s diagonal lines become a visual invitation, drawing the eye toward the horizon. Build a mile of highway, and you can drive a mile. Build a mile of runway, and you can go anywhere. Where does it lead? To a highway in the sky, defined by endless possibilities.
Some paths aren’t chosen by travelers at all. In the rail yard, switchmen decide which direction a train will take, guiding tons of steel with a simple lever pull. Where does it lead? Sometimes to a destination planned long ago, sometimes to a new route chosen in the moment—determining the miles ahead. The rails in the foreground create strong leading lines that direct the eye to the action, switchmen making a routing change.
Not all paths are measured in miles; some are measured in steps—219, to be exact. Inside the Saint Augustine Light, cast‑iron stairs spiral in a tight helix, drawing you upward—or downward—depending on how you read the image. I know exactly how I photographed it, but I like that the image might leave the viewer wondering whether they’re climbing toward the lantern room or descending back to solid ground. Where does the path lead? Did I shoot from the top looking down, or from the bottom looking up? It’s all a matter of perspective. Leave your guess in the comments. I will share the answer in the next Cellpic Sunday.
When we plan a road trip, I always try to find and drive at least part of a scenic byway. We returned from our autumn trip last week and chalked up another byway—this one in Wisconsin. It’s about 66 miles (106 km) long and follows Wisconsin Highways 42 and 57. We traveled along bluffs and past harbors, lighthouses, and lakefront views. The Door County Coastal Byway now joins the growing list of roads that have shaped our travels. Whether it’s a desert highway, a mountain pass, or a coastal loop like this one, each byway answers the challenge in its own way… Where does it lead?
Thanks to Egidio for reminding me of the many literal paths we’ve taken over the years—and for highlighting the compositional and metaphorical ones we find in our photography. Last week, Ritva brought the music to our eyes in her “Music” photo challenge. Next week, Tina hosts—follow her here so you don’t miss her challenge, which goes live at noon Eastern Time on Saturday, October 17.
If you’re sharing a Lens‑Artists Challenge response for the first time, welcome—we’d love to visit your post. To participate, publish your take on this week’s theme, link back to this page, and add the Lens‑Artists tag so others can discover your work. You’ll find more details on how the challenge works here.
John Steiner
