O
ne day, the editor of Traveler called me up. “We’ve
got a really exciting assignment for you,” he said.
Faraway places danced in my brain—Aitutaki,
Timbuktu, Samarkand. I asked for details.
“Don,” he began, “we’d like you to spend a
week in the bowels of National Geographic.”
“I’m not sure I heard that correctly,” I said. He continued,
“We’d like you to spend a week exploring our photo archives.
It’ll be a journey around the world and across the ages—without
ever leaving the basement! What do you think?”
I thought: You want me to spend a week in a windowless room
in the depths of a building in downtown Washington, D.C., with
no sun, no fresh air, no cultural celebrations, no local feasts?
But after I pondered it for a day, curiosity got the better of me.
It would be like exploring an uncharted wilderness, the meta-
phorical equivalent of journeying to the edges of Antarctica or theheart of the Amazon. In my mind it became a grand adventure:
The Expedition to Archivia. Who knew what treasures awaited
in those air-conditioned bowels?“WELCOME TO THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC photo archives,
one of the most significant photography collections in the
world,” Julia Andrews says exuberantly, opening the door to a
fluorescent-lit cellar. The room is about 36 feet by 36 feet. Most
of this area is occupied by 14-foot-high accordion-style shelves
that are filled with folders and boxes containing more than 10
million photographs, slides, glass negatives, and art. The only
open space is a narrow corridor. On a far wall hangs a massive
Treasure Island–like scene of a pirate smoking a pipe. It was
painted by N.C. Wyeth in 1914.
The air is brittle, the temperature is cold, a wind is rattling
from the air coolers. I’ve agreed to spend a week in this room.Nat Geo flag carried
to the Apollo 11
moon landing1935 stratosphere
flight souvenirs1915 photo
album of Hiram
Bingham’s Machu
Picchu excavationRE
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