Ah, Spring. . .

When I lived in Georgia I never felt like spring had really arrived until Gillian's birthday (3/30), when the dogwoods in Marietta were at their peak. Occasionally, the dogwoods were fine but the weather wasn't cooperating. You see, I think it's hard to fully appreciate dogwoods in anything but bright sunlight. I did, however, appreciate this view from my driveway across the front lawn when the sun broke out from behind the clouds and caught the trees across the street. The picture was taken at the beginning of April 2004 after waiting several days for the sun to appear.

The picture above was taken in March of the following year. There was no concern about clouds, that's for sure. I guess this is about my favorite color combination - dogwood ivory and Carolina blue.

This one was taken on my patio, looking up into the pine woods behind the house. It looks a little busy - or a lot busy - and I don't think it's an especially good photograph. It's actually a failed attempt, a futile attempt, to catch an exhilarating phenomenon peculiar to dogwoods. Perhaps even, peculiar to my dogwoods. When the sun's shining just right and we're treated to a nice, cool zephyr, the large, floppy blossoms begin to shimmer in the breeze and transform themselves into a mob of ivory butterflies, fluttering at the edge of the yard. And that's - precisely - my favorite time of year.

I guess I should have tried to catch it with a video camera. . .

Of course, I know there're other kinds of flowers besides dogwoods, and I have an appreciation for them as well, though deep down I suspect they're superfluous. These tiny little guys - not more than a quarter inch across - were alongside a trail at an overlook on the Blue Ridge Pkwy between Cherokee and Balsam Gap.

My first trip to Asheville was in September of 1962 and I guess my first sojourn on the Blue Ridge Pkwy was that fall. In the ensuing 48 years I believe I've traveled every mile of the Parkway in North Carolina and a fair amount of the Skyline Drive in Virginia. I've often come around a curve and been surprised by an especially lovely vista, but never more so than in 2005 when I was approaching Mount Pisgah from the south enroute to Asheville. I'd probably driven that section of the Parkway 50 times or more over the years and never stopped at this overlook - I'd never before noticed anything out of the ordinary about it. But, getting on towards noon this day in May 2005, I was absolutely dazzled by Mother Nature.

The area is known as Graveyard Fields. At the trailhead originating at this overlook, the Park Service has provided a sign describing how the area got its name:

"A natural disaster occurred here 500 to 1000 years ago. A tremendous "wind-blow" uprooted the spruce forest. Through the years the old root stumps and trees rotted, leaving only dirt mounds. These odd mounds gave the appearance of a graveyard, and the area became known as Graveyard Fields. The forest eventually recovered, only to be destroyed by a catastrophic fire in 1925. This fire consumed the entire spruce-fir forest and the ancient mounds. The forest again is slowly recovering. The 1925 fire burned deeply, destroying the soil's nutrients. Blackberry briers and other small plants have taken hold, adding decaying vegetation to the earth each season, gradually enriching the soil. With time, this process will establish larger plants and trees. A spruce-fir forest might once again flourish in Graveyard Fields."

I've looked high and low on the Internet for pictures of Graveyard Fields that show it in its full glory. There are a few very nice pictures of the area in the autumn when the color peaks, but I haven't come across anything that even remotely suggests what I saw when I came around that curve five years ago this spring. That's especially surprising since parking at the overlook was overflowing the day I stopped.

A Mental Health Holiday

One January, when I was living in Marietta my friend, Scotty, from California worked out a weekend visit with me when he had a business trip to Georgia. The last night he was there we were hit by an ice storm and the early morning was very noisy with pine branches cracking and whole trees falling in the woods behind the house. When we were both up and moving about, I was standing at the patio door pointing out a large pine tree that had fallen - away from the house, thank God - presenting its entire route structure. Just as I reached out to indicate the tree I was talking about, a large branch from a tree beside the house cracked overhead and dropped at my feet with great fanfare, aluminum, splintered wood, and ice, having ripped off the gutter over the patio door on the way down. As Maxwell Smart would say, "It missed me by thaaaaaat much." I looked at pine trees differently after that - especially the ones overhanging the house.

A year or so later - I don't do anything on the spur of the moment - I couldn't stand the suspense any longer and decided to have a number of trees taken down, before I found one in bed with me some morning or sharing my La-Z-Boy. I called an appropriate contractor and we came to an agreement. He'd take down X number of trees and I'd pay him Y dollars. The evening before his crew was to come, I went around the house and marked all the trees that I wanted taken down with blue tape, thinking that they would be finished with the job by the time I got home from work. As it turned out, I couldn't stay away and miss the show. I think I called into work with a lack of interest. . .

As expected, they really put on a show. The crew turned out to be very hierarchical. There were two cutters who competed with each other, each had an assistant who handled the ropes, and there was a young fella, who was more or less a "gofer". There was another guy who drove the Bobcat who was kind of a referee, or perhaps a scorekeeper. When all the trees were down, he moved the logs to the truck and the branches out to the chipper in the cul-de-sac.

Each cutter selected a pair of the trees that I had identified, worked out a plan with his assistant, and rigged the ropes in a manner best suited to accomplish the plan. Then the Bobcat driver counted down and started the race. Each cutter went up his first tree lopping off branches on the way up, then descended and did the same thing on his second tree, topping that one at a predetermined height. Then they used the ropes that they had rigged to cross over to the first tree again, top that one and return to the ground - hopefully, to win the race. They were having a great time and I was enjoying it as well, albeit from a safe distance.

When they had each taken down four trees, they took a rest break, dropping with their assistants on one or another of the several piles of pine boughs scattered around my yard at the bases of the trees they had dropped. The highlight of the show was when the winning cutter - still catching his breath - called over to the gofer and told him to grab a chainsaw. The kid's eyes lit up, thinking he was going to get a chance to use a saw. When he'd run over to the truck and fetched a saw, the cutter told him, "Now cut down to the bottom of that pile and see if you can find my cigarettes for me."

A couple of months later when I had plumbing problems and my backyard was awash, I called someone out to empty the septic tank. That was a story in itself, but it all goes back to having the trees removed. Turns out the Bobcat driver, besides keeping score for the cutters, managed to destroy the drain field for the septic tank, carrying the logs across the soft back yard out to the truck. The picture above shows the shovel at the end of the first day of digging the new drain field. The picture below shows the same section of the yard when they were "finished". I was just so glad to have them all gone, that I didn't even squawk at the mess I was left with.

RTC Great Lakes

Forty-three years ago today I got on a bus at Chicago's O'Hare airport and soon found myself cast adrift with a few score others in a transient barracks at the Recruit Training Command, Great Lakes, Waukegan Illinois. The reason we were cast adrift was because we arrived on Good Friday. We were assigned a bunk and issued linen; someone pointed out the chow hall and the Navy Exchange; we were warned that smoking was allowed only in the lounge area, and that lights would be turned off at 10 PM. They told us the schedule for Easter church services was posted on the bulletin board next to the Plan of the Day and that we were to read the Plan of the Day every day. Then, we were told to behave ourselves and more or less abandoned till 0600 the following Monday.

It was an interesting weekend to say the least. Our company was composed of a cross-section of young men chillingly similar to the various movie stereotypes of Full Metal Jacket or one of those submarine flicks with John Garfield and William Bendix. We were all completely out of our element so, consequently, most of us were also on our best behavior. We spent the weekend making friends and telling each other where we were from and what it was like at home. By Sunday evening we were ready for Monday morning so we could get started. After all, the Navy was not just a Job, it was an Adventure.

Any guesses what this is? It's a view from Google Earth, looking west from Lake Michigan at the Recruit Training Command - or whatever they call it now - Great Lakes. I recognize only a few barracks buildings (off to the right) and the headquarters building of what used to be the Ninth Naval District (on the left facing the large drill field). I guess boot camp has changed since the late 60s. The large paved areas (grinders) where we spent our days marching and drilling and exercising have since been built on. The huge wooden drill halls, where we marched during inclement weather and worked off punishments, have been razed and replaced by new, nondescript buildings used for God knows what. It makes me wonder if they even do close order drill anymore.

So, back to Monday. We were roused at 0600, dressed and headed for the chow hall, then quickly through supply where we were issued sea bags and uniforms. Back to the barracks where we donned uniforms for the first time, then immediately off to the barbershop. The effect of the uniforms and haircuts was remarkable. Most of us had arrived with hair suitable for the time (1960s) if not the place. All those new friendships we started over the weekend - kaput. We couldn't recognize anyone! Even looking in the mirror didn't help much. We almost couldn't recognize ourselves.

This is a picture of Company 161, taken at Great Lakes in late March 1967. When I came across this picture several years ago in a dresser drawer the first question that occurred to me was, how many of these guys could I identify? I went through, row by row, and was able to identify 18 of the 75 people in the photo. A couple of weeks ago I tried it again, this time using the thin "cruise book" they presented us at the end of boot camp, which was comprised mainly of generic photos of young men in new uniforms with their heads shaved in various phases of training. The helpful part was that it also included small portraits of each of us taken shortly after that first haircut. Using that as a "gouge" I was able to identify 60 of the 75 recruits - and even with the portraits it was hard.

Sometime in 1999 I had the TV on PBS when an advertisement came on for an upcoming retrospective on the Vietnam war. I looked up from what I was doing to see the ad and they were showing various pieces of memorabilia as a voiceover described the show. Right when I looked up, they showed a picture of a company of Navy recruits. The first thing I noticed was the sign on the wall - "Hey, that's Great Lakes!" Then I looked at the front row and noticed the Company Commander's assistant (adjutant?) - the little kewpie doll fellow with the blue aiguillette - "Hey, that's McLeod!" Then I looked and saw Sanderson and the 161 company flag - "Hey, that's my Company!" And not a soul around to share it with. . .

See if you can find me. I'll give you a hint: I was much thinner then, and had a lot less hair.

It seemed like it took forever but we all got through boot camp and most of us probably had an interesting four years or so before returning to civilian life (I had just less than 10). Anyway, I got an e-mail a few weeks ago from a guy I had served with on the Roosevelt and he told me that they were having the 2010 FDR reunion at Great Lakes this year, in case I was interested. I thought about it briefly but decided the Great Lakes was the one duty station I had that I had absolutely no wish to revisit. Perhaps another year, a little closer to home.

Scooters, Piggyback Rides, Basketball, and Easter Eggs. . . it must be Spring!

The NCAA tournament. . . mercifully over for the Longhorns - RIP. As Kirk Boles said in his article this morning, the families were not notified to save them the embarrassment. Starting off the season at 19 - 0, ranked number one, then self-destructing like they did. . . disgusting! Ah well, there's a good reason for not betting on 20-year-old kids.

These pictures were all taken in the spring of 2008 at Angela's and Danny's house in Arlington. Spring break brought some San Antonio and Austin cousins up to the Metroplex. Of course, the weekend included Six Flags, but I wasn't there to document that.

How many Aggies does it take to. . . sorry, I don't recall what the problem with the scooter was, but Lauren was up to the task, so Paul and Allison did get to take it for a spin.

While Allison was scooting, Paul was pressed into service by Lauren for a piggyback ride.

Andrew came out to demonstrate he's master of the court. Must've been a commercial break in the NCAA tournament.

The fact that it doesn't matter when Danny parks his pickup in the middle of the court is a testament to these kids' flexibility. Lauren's switched to her bike, Allison's trying to figure out how to block the shot, and Natalie is going for three points.

Enough fresh air and exercise! Let's dye Easter eggs.

Two years makes a difference. I heard through the grapevine that Allison and Paul were up there for spring break again last weekend. I understand Natalie, however, was off visiting college campuses in the Southeast with her friend Alex and Alex's mom. Got to be ready when those scholarships are offered. Those that were around did the six flags boogie, and probably all the other stuff they did in 2008, except that it's still a little early yet to be dying Easter eggs. I love watching these kids whenever they can get together - they just have so much fun and get along with each other so well. My hope for them is that it can always be thus.

Post Script

This post is really a post script. Searching through files for pictures to include in future posts - a seemingly never-ending task - I found this one, which conforms to the record and blows another hole in the legend of my vaunted memory.

In the previous post I commented on the hulk of a crashed airplane, and even provided an X - marking the spot - in the satellite photo where the hulk rested throughout my tour of duty on Adak. I remembered the crash as a Navy C-118 (DC-6), but the record suggested it was a Navy P-3 Orion.

I say "suggested" because of the timing of the crash, about six months before I arrived on the island. The hulk could have been from another wreck, but it's unlikely. So, the record refers to BuNo 151363, a P-3A, the record in this case being the Aviation Safety Foundation database. The narrative from the Aviation Safety Foundation website described the accident:

At rotate speed the smoke hatch blew open. The takeoff was aborted but did not decelerate as expected. The pilot steered the Orion to the left off the runway, to avoid overrunning into the water. It went through a ditch in a right yaw and the right wing separated from the airplane and burst into flames.

A meager enough description, to be sure. I'll bet the crew members, all of whom reportedly survived, all gave much more exciting narratives of the incident over the years. . .

Anyway, the picture above was taken from outside the GCA unit one evening as a KC-97 from the New York Air National Guard was touching down, transiting Adak en route to Japan. True, it's not a particularly good picture, but in the left half of the picture the errant P-3, previously referred to as "the hulk", sits next to the runway - right where I put that "X" - welcoming new arrivals.

The Technical Adak

Well, this is kind of a "surprise" post on a previous subject, Adak, because of a few old pictures I recently came across. Some of you may find it interesting, but the rest of you won't hurt my feelings if you're bored to tears and decide to skip it.

AN/CPN-4 GCA Unit built by Gilfillen. Air transportable, it consists of a prime mover, a parts/electronics workshop trailer, and an operations trailer. On the roof of the ops trailer is the air surveillance radar (ASR) antenna. Just below and to the right of the ASR antenna are a horizontal window and the double-decked vertical window containing the azimuth and elevation precision approach radar (PAR) antennae. There are also various UHF and VHF radio antennas on the "doghouse".

I had been doing some research on Navy air traffic control, and searched high and low on the Internet for a decent picture of a CPN-4 GCA unit and I was hoping against hope that I might even find one of the unit assigned to Adak. A lot of work with little to show for it - not any good photos of a CPN-4. Then I got sidetracked, looking on my computer for a picture of something else and Eureka! I found the picture above - surely the quintessential photograph of a CPN-4, and on Adak to boot! I took this picture shortly after purchasing my Minolta, and it could well have been on the very first roll of film I shot. I scanned it at some point during the last couple years and didn't get around to "cleaning up" the scan, so I had not transferred it to any of my several gallery directories. It's amazing what you find when you keep looking. Housekeeping / bookkeeping. . . pshaw!. . . a waste of time. The pile of snow in the background is Mount Moffitt, the highest peak on Adak at 3924 '.

The picture above is from Google maps. For orientation, the satellite photo is aligned more or less with north at the top. I marked the runways, the ops building/tower, and the location of the GCA unit, which has long since been removed. With the unit aligned perpendicular to runway 5/23, the PAR antennae are immediately adjacent to the runway and point out the final approach course. The patch in the upper left corner of the picture is one I designed on the island. Someone traveling to Japan for R&R took my drawing and had patches made for us. I cannot explain what possessed me to put a checkerboard background on the diagonal separator. On the diagonal, are the three rating badges associated with air traffic control facilities (L to R): engineman, electronics technician, and air controlman.

There's one additional X on the map, north of the runway near the approach end. The day I flew onto the island aboard a Reeve Aleutian Airways L-188 (my 1st Lockheed plane), as we passed over the runway threshold, all the passengers on the starboard side of the plane were treated to the disconcerting vision of a burned out hulk - a memorial the the ones who didn't make it? It was left there undisturbed as long as I was on the island but has certainly been removed since. The X is about where I remember it. Also, my memory is fuzzy on occasion. I remember it as a C-118, the Navy version of the DC-6. But the only records I've found online suggest it was a Navy P-3 Orion that had crashed on takeoff on June 3, 1969, six months before my arrival.

The pair of pictures below was taken inside of the ops trailer, the first one shows the typical layout with a writing desk below the ASR and PAR scopes, a clipboard with "run sheets" to keep track of what little traffic we had, and a small desk lamp. The second focuses on the radar scopes, ASR on top and PAR on the bottom. The PAR scope combines two displays, elevation on top and asimuth on the bottom.

Above, the ASR scope is set up with 2 nm range rings, offset 6 nm north to show more of the final approach (an arrival would typically be shown moving from the bottom of the scope towards the top (Heading 230). You might note the large reflection between 6 and 7 miles from the center, slightly right of the final approach corridor. That return is Mount Adagdak on the northeast corner of the island with an elevation of 2115'.

Above, the ASR scope is set up with 5 nm range rings and centered. The target of interest here is directly under the final approach at 23 miles. That return is Great Sitkin Island, at 5710'. Because of its location, it's been the site of several aircraft wrecks over the years. Note that the compass rose is aligned with the runway; North is NOT at the top of the scope.

In both pictures the PAR display is the same. The vertical ticks are range marks, 1 mile apart and logarithmically spaced (larger spaces closer to the airport). At the vertex of both displays you see "clutter" or "ground return" reflecting the airport. Then, below the 3 nm range mark on the elevation scope and underlying the 3 nm range mark on the azimuth scope is a large reflection that corresponds to Zeto Point, a peninsula that extends out below the final approach course and creates a windshear that always antagonizes controllers, sometimes discombobulates pilots, and regularly terrifies passengers. You can read about my introduction to Zeto Point here. The picture below, taken on one of the two best days on Adak in 1970, looks out over Zeto Point and across Kuluk Bay toward Scabbard Bay.

This excellent picture (found on the internet) is taken from the area of zeto point, looking north at Mount Adagdak. With two small lakes in the foreground the land narrows to an isthmus as it approaches Adagdak. The larger body of water on the left is Clam Lagoon and the one on the right is Sitkin Sound. The scattered buildings in the middle ground are abandoned shacks and Quonset huts, remaining from World War II.

It's hard to do a photo post on Adak without including at least one photograph of Great Sitkin Island. The picture was taken from the approach end of runway 23 with a 135 mm lens and both a 2X and a 3X extender. That's steam from the volcano, not your ordinary everyday cloud. In the middle ground you see Zeto Point (again) with a lot more of the abandoned Quonsets. In the foreground is a low bank of tundra and sea oats between the runway and the water.

Pop Quiz:

- Sitkin's elevation is _____'. It lies ___ nm northeast of the airport.

- Zeto Point lies ____ nm off the end of the runway.

- Adagdak is off to your right as you approach to land on runway 23, ____ nm from the airport.

The Great 2008 Southwestern Road Trip - IV

I had intended to go through my 2008 Grand Tour quickly, in four days, because some people had already seen these photographs and heard about the tour. Unfortunately I had to take two sick days to recover from some bug. But I woke up this morning feeling fine, my temperature was gone and I even walked a while on my treadmill. Anyway, this post will finish up my 2008 tour, though I reserve the right to post other pictures from the trip in the future.

*****

My original plan on leaving Zion had been to ignore Las Vegas, and find lodging in California on the edge of Death Valley. Then, drive the length of the valley and cross the Sierras opposite Mono Lake at Tioga Pass. Luckily, I called my friend, Alan, to give him a status report. When I told him my plans, he suggested I check highway closures - he didn't think "the back way" into Yosemite (i.e., Tioga Pass Road) was ever open as early as mid-April, because of snow. A quick check on the Internet proved him right so, of necessity, I decided to amend my plans on the run.

 

I spent the night in the Mojave Desert town of Baker and got a good night's sleep. I left in the dark and got to experience sunrise well out in the desert on the way to Death Valley. As soon as I had a chance, I pulled off the road to take my first shot of the desert. If the theme of my Utah landscapes was texture, the Death Valley theme has to be light. The intensity of the light seemed to increase from sunrise on the east side of the valley until I escaped over the Sierras to Lake Isabella.

 

I took this picture of the dunes because it was the only place I came across what looked like my preconceived notion of "a desert". Of course, that just points out that our notions ought to be flexible enough to occasionally encompass reality.

 

These Joshua trees, which I encountered on the west side of the valley in the Sierra foothills, couldn't have been more beautiful. I crossed out of the desert over to Lake Isabella on CA178 and down into the San Joaquin Valley on CA155.

 

I took this picture couple days later on a drive up to Sequoia National Park. This stream, fed by snowmelt, was between Three Rivers and the Park. Though it was certainly a fine day for photography, it was perhaps not the best season to photograph the Park. Or maybe I was just running out of steam. I was sufficiently disappointed with the number of good pictures I got, that I decided I couldn't marshal the effort required to include Yosemite in the 2008 tour.

 

Still searching for some "special" photographs coming back from Sequoia, when I came to an intersection I simply chose the road that looked more interesting. Wandering about the Sierra foothills in this manner is taxing to say the least. It took all afternoon to get back to Hanford and I didn't hit a straight stretch of road until I got to the valley floor near Orosi. This shot, looks east from Orosi past an orange grove to the foothills with the Sierras as a backdrop.

The Great 2008 Southwestern Road Trip - III

 

Near the end of my stay in Page, I took an excursion across the border to Bryce Canyon National Park and thoroughly enjoyed it. I wish I were more fit, that I could spend more time wandering around on foot. But alas, I guess I'll stick pretty close to the overlooks for the foreseeable future. The picture above here is looking northeast and caught a late-risen moon. The picture below is looking southeast from one of the overlooks. One of the surprises to me, both in Bryce Canyon and around Page, was that ravens seemed to be everywhere.

 

*****

 

After another day in Page, I headed for California by way of Zion National Park in southern Utah. That impressed me even more than Bryce Canyon I believe. It also emphasized the feeling I mentioned earlier about wishing I had a geologist on tour with me.

 

I took my time in Zion to notice more details in my immediate area than I usually do. I don't know what kind of bush this is, above, but it was bright and smooth enough to suggest it was just waiting to be varnished.

 

Here's another one of those curiosities relating to geology. The two different colors of sandstone are visually interesting. What causes one or the other? Why are they all jumbled? At any rate, they're both equally good at supporting cedar.

 

The differences between these two pictures were interesting. The picture above is probably my favorite of Zion. I had just entered that valley through a tunnel. The day was cool and clear and spring had just arrived. By the time I followed the road around to the western entrance of the park, where the picture below was taken, the clear air was much warmer and most of the trees in that area were already in full leaf.

The Great 2008 Southwestern Road Trip - II

By the next morning I could see alright and my hearing had returned to normal. I left Cortez in the morning fog, but there were definite signs that it would be a beautiful day when the fog burned off.

 

I took US160 and headed for the Four Corners to see if the local scenery could sustain it as a tourist attraction or whether the fact that four state boundaries merged on the spot was the sole draw. It turned out that the latter was the case, though there is a US Geological Survey marker on the spot if you need a photograph to remind you that you were there. Thirty-some miles west of there I turned north again on US191 and reentered Utah from the south. The picture above was taken in that borderland area and shows that the day made good on its promise of beautiful weather.

 

This picture was taken approaching Natural Bridges National Monument in southwestern Utah. Driving out here is a pleasure, if for no other reason than you have the roads virtually to yourself. Free to enjoy the scenery, different vistas still seem to sneak up on you, keeping you in a constant state of surprise.

 

This one, looking southeast from the highway near Mexican Hat, shows the caprock south of Mokee Dugway. Utah 261 heads south from Natural Bridges like any other two-lane highway in the area then, in the space of a mile or so, turns into a gravel road and comes to the edge of the caprock. The elevation is 6425' and, if you choose to continue, you soon find yourself at the bottom of a series of switchbacks 1100' lower and on flat ground again.

 

This is the northern approach to Monument Valley on the Utah/Arizona border - you know, John Ford, the Duke, "Rio Grande", "She Wore a Yellow Ribbon" - that Monument Valley. US163 is pretty, but to get the full effect of the Valley you need to get off on some of the tracks and search for "that perfect view".

 

This is a view looking west across part of the Wahweap Marina on Lake Powell, above the Glen Canyon dam and Page, Arizona. That's Castle Rock across the water. My November 19, 2009 post shows the Marina and Castle Rock from a higher elevation late in the day and it describes the cut across the peninsula to the right of Castle Rock. My post on the 20th shows a panorama view from that same overlook.

 

This is a section of the sandstone basin containing Lake Powell taken from a cruise boat one beautiful afternoon. The lake, which extends 185 miles up the Colorado River, has a longer coastline than California. Every time you turn a corner you're rewarded with a surprise and, at the end of the day, you're thinking it really would have been nice to have a geologist with you to explain how all this came about.

The Great 2008 Southwestern Road Trip - I

I've kind of been slacking off with my posts recently. I don't really have an excuse, but I do have an explanation. A couple weeks ago I read on an art blog about "virtual"  plein air paintouts. As I understand it, a normal plein air paintout would have a group of artists, each with his own easel and other paraphernalia, meet somewhere in the area and spend a morning or afternoon painting all the best parts of the given locale. Clearly good fun, a chance to visit with other artists, share tips. . . whatever. Now by contrast, these "virtual" paintouts might take place anywhere in the world and the artists "meet" at the agreed-upon location via

Google Earth. Of course, you forgo the visits with the other artists and you don't get to share tips, but you can do it all in your bathrobe - how cool is that?

But I digress. The point of this is that I finally discovered and installed Google Earth and have been having a great time since then planning and re-planning my May road trip. I think I've got a workable itinerary now and still have about two months to tweak it. Ain't technology wonderful.

Meanwhile, over the next couple of days, I thought I'd post some of the photographs from my 2008 trip. I know some of you have already seen these particular shots, an overview of the trip, but I showed them off before I started this blog, so most of you have not.

 

In 2008, I was living in Fort Worth so my route took me up through Amarillo, Santa Fe, over the Rio Grande (see the previous post) and up into Colorado. The picture above, of aspens and spruce in the snow, was taken in south-central Colorado between Pagosa Springs and Durango. I hadn't seen much snow for a while, so I thought it was pretty neat.

 

I spent the night in Durango and left at dawn for Silverton on the "Million Dollar Highway". As soon as it was light enough to see, it was light enough to see that it was snowing - big time. In no time I found myself in the middle of a full-blown blizzard on a wonderful mountain road I'd never before traveled - with nary a guard rail in sight and the river 'way down there over the side.

This picture, taken in the northern outskirts of Durango, show how much snow built up since I'd left town. You see, I eventually got Silverton where I had breakfast and talked to one of the locals about whether or not I should continue on my planned route around the mountain past Telluride and down to Dolores and Cortez. I found his answer rather equivocal and opted to return the way I had come back to Durango. Yeah, I know -- Chicken. . . !

Taking the highway west from Durango to Cortez, I passed the entrance to Mesa Verde National Park in a cold, soaking rain and decided to bypass that side trip and look for something else. I found a motel for the night in Cortez and headed west where the brighter sky showed some promise of something other than rain. Just wandering around near the Colorado/Utah border I stumbled upon a small section of Canyonlands National Park. I don't think I had even heard of Canyonlands before, and here it turned out to be one of the highlights of my whole trip.

The previous picture and these next two were all taken at the Needles Overlook. When I arrived, the weather was as good as I was to see that day. The river in the middle distance is the Colorado. The weather, of course, was moving in from the west and I was fairly sure that by the end of the day it would be very wet again. One of my favorite shots from the trip is this one of the storm passing the peak known as the northern six shooter. There's another just out of the frame to the left, which is the southern six shooter.

I remember hoping that as the storms approached, one after another, I'd have an opportunity to get some lightning shots. But, it was not to be. When the storms started closing on the Overlook, I started moving in the direction of the truck. By the time I got there I was in the middle of a sleet storm, soaking wet and cold as hell. Then, headed back east towards Colorado and my motel, the storm closed in close around me and I finally got to see the lightning - from inside the cloud. The lightning just blinded me for a moment - it was the thunder that was truly impressive.

*****

Now, if I can keep on task for the next few days, I should post several more pictures from this trip. But, as I said, finding Canyonlands was fortuitous and this was just one overlook. After studying the area in Google Earth I decided that my May road trip will include the drive up the San Juan Valley past Telluride, up to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison near Montrose, and west to Moab - where I've scouted out much of the rest of Canyonlands. It's gonna be great !!!