©Bert Gildart:  Yesterday, Janie and I hiked to an incredible area in the southern part of Anza Borrego Desert State Park looking for pictographs, which after several years of searching we finally found.  Don’t expect a detailed map to the area, but I will report on this  incredible Native American art form in my next posting.  Sadly, so many antiquities have been destroyed that various laws have had to be enacted to protect them.  Fines help  — and they have ranged in the thousands — and that is good, but money can’t restore defaced rock art.

While on the trip it was encouraging to see a few flowers starting to rear their lovely heads.  There has been so very little rain this winter that some are saying there will be but  few flowers this spring. And it is true, the flowers I show here were confined to areas  where the little moisture that has accumulated tends to collect, such as  in boulder fields and in protected pockets of south facing slopes.

To make these images I used various techniques, which one must employ to  dramatize their beauty and intensify their color.  For the purple penstemon, I used two strobes; for the fish hook cactus, I blocked the sun using a broad brimmed out – else the plants would have been filled with contrasty light.  And for the yellow agave flower I used back lightening, which always seems to work well for plants that are colored yellow.

Because these are some of the first flowers of spring, it does suggest that other species will soon follow.  However, the presence of only a few  also suggests  that some  looking will be required.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS THREE YEARS AGO:

*Spring Flowers in Death Valley

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Pacing off size

©Bert Gildart: Five-hundred years from now – after man has rebounded from a devastating decline in population associated with much tragic and social unrest — archaeologists will reemerge to wonder about those who lived in the distant past. (Come on, play along for a minute.)

They begin by excavating, and because deserts are always so productive, lo and behold, they begin in Anza Borrego. Here, they find a rock or two whose juxtaposition appears to have been created intentionally.

“Eureka!” someone exclaims! And then they begin the tedious process of uncovering the entire structure.

Months later, a form will appear, and scientists will conclude that it was the recreation of a huge snake.

In fact, with its triangular shaped head and segmented tail (all created with the artistic arrangement of rocks) it appears to be a rattlesnake.

120 Foot-Long Serpent

Measurements will determine the sinuous form of the snake stretches about 40 feet but that if uncoiled, it would measure 120-feet long.

Much time must have to have been devoted to the project, perhaps, scholars will conclude, four or five hours.  But, then, to perfect the structure, these people had to return over a period of several days, perhaps even weeks. And because so much time was involved our future scientist will have to wonder if Homo sapiens of the period deified the snake?

Searching for answers scholars will dig into books created by the ancients of the year 2012, and they will learn  that Native Americans of the mid-18^th Century (as an example)  created images of the creatures that were important to them at the time.  In this place still called Anza Borrego they created symbols of the sun and of the anthropomorphs.

They created graphic images of the genitalia of men and woman perhaps as a means of increasing fertility.  And in other areas still preserved in lands yet known (we can hope) as National Parks, they learned Native ancients created images of sheep, possibly because sheep (Zion NP)had died out. They hoped that through the creation of their images that they would generate the magic needed to bring sheep back, and so push back hunger. (Other petroglyph sites I’ve visited: Earth Mother, V-Bar-V)

In other words, they carved out pictographs and petroglyphs for all sorts of reasons, generally for reasons that seemed important at the time.

Which brings us to our snake.

Worship of Snakes

Serpents have long been worshiped, because they shed their skins and are symbolically “reborn.” In fact, classes of the Hindu and Buddhist have worshipped (and still worship) snakes – and very large ones at that.  And, so, it is probably safe to extend the feeling of awe for snakes to Homo sapiens at large. And because of recent events, so it is here at Pegleg. Just the other day someone saw a large rattler in the hills just behind us.

Through the eons, many have worshipped snakes

I honestly have no idea who created the huge serpent, but the reasons could be associated with some of the above. Perhaps it was an infertile couple desirous of procreation; a group hoping for immunity from a bite.  Or perhaps as scientist say, no one really knows why the ancients created the thousands of pictographs and petroglyphs that cover the American Southwest. “Maybe,” our scholars say, “they were simply doodling, trying to pass the time on a warm winter day.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS THREE YEARS AGO:

*Airstreaming Along the Blue Ridge Parkway

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©Bert Gildart: In a land where everything either sticks, stings or bites,  Bill (see previous post) and I decided we would return to the Moonlight Canyon trail and see if we could learn more about what — and how — sheep eat. Can they actually digest thorns?

Surviving in a land where everything sticks, stings or bites

Essentially because this area in Anza Borrego Desert State Park  is so rugged, it is, in fact, ideal sheep country, and that morning we’d watched as a band of about five desert bighorn sheep – all young rams – had munched on surrounding vegetation.  Food they consumed grew close to the ground and from our vantage we could not see what it was.  Everything here seemed covered with thorns, and we wondered how they managed.

A DIET OF CACTI?

The sheep had moved on so Bill and I decided to climb to the prominence on which they’d been watching the world around them. Here, we found much cholla, and every single one contained extraordinarily sharp thorns.

Sheep munch away the sharp thorns to exposure the underlying fruit of the cholla. Apparently, it is all palatable.

Mind you, these were brutally sharp thorns, and as we had climbed, several had lodged in the soft fabric of my jeans and then penetrated to jab me in a particularly painfully manner.  This was the food of our sheep, and as we examined the plants, we found no discarded thorns.  Apparently, they had consumed not only the fruit of the cacti, but also the thorns.

MICRO CLIMATES

Bill and I returned to the trail and his attention turned to the various micro-climates contained along the Moonlight Canyon trail. He asked me if I’d noted the various rock pockets where temperatures fluctuated, and it was true.  Here in this twist-y canyon where the aspect changed markedly, we found not only pockets of cold, but also pockets of relative warmth. Apparently, the warm pockets provided conditions appropriate for the season’s last brave flowering species.

Bill said he believed the flower was a fuchsia. With its long red sepals and petals and very conspicuous stamen it was a colorful plant, necessary perhaps to attract insects for late season pollination.  It was a perfect photographic specimen so I attached a 105mm macro lens, set up a tripod, and then illuminated it with two strobes manually  (250sec, f32)  set to overwhelm ambient light, so producing the black background.

Janie and I left Agua Calienta late in the day, commenting over and over that we’d had a marvelous day, filled with good friends, flowers, birds, and wildlife. How could it get any better?

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

Channel Islands

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©Bert Gildart: Snow covered the Vallecito Mountains as we made our drive to Agua Calienta to see our friends Bill and Larry.

Vallecito Mountains, December 14th. That's snow up there folks!

Janie and I meet the two men about four years ago and discovered that we shared similar interests and an interest in acquiring skills we all admired.  Larry is a gourmet cook, Bill a photographer and an interpreter of history at a park center in San Diego.  Perhaps not too coincidentally, we all share a love of Airstream travel. What’s more Bill and I share a fascination with one of Anza Borrego’s most historic of all characters,  Marshall South.

KINDEST OF PEOPLE

I also want to say that Bill and Larry are two of the kindest men we’ve ever met. When we arrived, we saw that Larry had laid out a Christmas table onto which he later served a gourmet pork stew. Larry had also made several Christmas decorations that he wanted Janie to have.

Christmas at Bill and Larry's

Once, both men were professional care givers, but are now retired.  Larry was an occupational therapist while Bill was master-level nurse.  The two have been together now for 40 years and certainly that was one of the many things we discussed.

COMMON INTERESTS

But most of our time was spent talking about the area’s natural history.  Agua Calienta was one of the places Marshall South described, and over the years, Bill and I have made many hikes to learn more about this fascinating man who is often described as the forerunner of the hippies.

We talked about Moonlight Canyon and the hike Janie, Bill and I had just completed and all the sheep we saw, something I will describe in my next posting.  We talked about the quail we’d all seen during our desert hike.

Later the park ranger dropped by and Larry showed him a book I had written several years ago on big horn sheep.  That set the stage for an hour long discussion about the Peninsular Bighorn and it’s struggle to survive. Mark, the ranger said he would try and help us find the “really big guy,” if we came back.

Certainly we will come back.  In fact sometime next month most likely you’ll be reading a post specifically about Aqua Calienta.  In the meantime Janie and I want to take a moment to thank both Bill and Larry for the excellent food, good company, gifts, and for introducing us to this part of Anza Borrego.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Pure Photography In Many Glacier Valley

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©Bert Gildart: Last night as I was returning from my chore of loading up our four, six gallon water jugs to replenish part of the 40 gallons of water we seem to use each week, the moon began to rise.

Before I had gone far palm trees began to border the moon, reminding us that the desert can indeed provide stunning vistas, particularly in the evening and then even more dramatically, at night.

Out here in wide open spaces, one of our pleasures is, in fact, the night skies, and Janie and I contend that the deserts offer some of the best in viewing opportunities.

Our contention begs this question:

How many places are left in the United States where night skies are clear enough to study – much less – see the various constellations?  Or even the moon?  Anza Borrego now prides itself as being on a national  register of areas still processing “Dark Skies.”

As time goes by there are fewer and fewer areas in the U.S. that qualify.  A few other places include Death Valley, Joshua Tree, and various places in Montana such as the Big Hole Battlefield (teepees). There are, of course, others, but these are some of our favorites.

Night photography can celebrate these places, as shown in photos included.  One of course is the moon rise (above), the other is also a moon rise image taken two years ago on New Year’s Eve.  This image is particularly special as it shows us toasting to the New Years but also to the Blue Moon behind us.

L to R:  Death Valley, toasting the New Year and the rare Blue Moon, star trails at Big Hole Battlefield.

Night Skies are precious and it is a shame that they are dwindling throughout our country.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Transforming Photography Into Art

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©Bert Gildart: Not far where we’re camped there’s a marker stipulating that if we are here hoping to find Pegleg’s gold mine then we must add ten rocks to a designated pile.  Because we believe in legends, by now we’ve most likely added several dozen rocks to the ever growing heap.

Let those who seek Pegleg's gold add ten rock to this pile.

Folks like us who search for Pegleg’s gold are actually searching for a mine said to have been discovered by Thomas Smith. It is written that the man “salted” the desert with a peg leg as he searched for gold. In other words,  Smith  once searched this area for gold, walking on one leg that was good and one leg (a pegged leg)  that was bad.  Legend has it that he did indeed find gold but died before he heralded his discovery to the world..

Smith searched the area for gold that now bears his name around 1866. He lived near the Pegleg campground, so his gold mine really could be within a few miles of our Airstream.  Because we believe the story, we hike the hills almost daily.

Devoted to tradition, Janie adds one of the 10 mandated rocks

What that means, of course, is that Janie and I and the companions with whom we are now camped may well be on the verge of the discovery of  gold.  Every day we search improbable areas, but most  importantly, we add more stones to this every growing monument of rock.  Surely adherence to tradition will soon be paying dividends.

However, I’m not sure we’ll tell anyone what finally happens.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS  SIX YEARS AGO:

*Sunshine Skyway Bridge (Tampa, Florida)

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©Bert Gildart: I am a few days behind in the dates ascribed to my posts, essentially because we have based ourselves in areas that have no connections, specifically Zortman, Montana.  The settlement is located in the Little Rockies and for this posting it must be noted that we are but a 40 minute drive from one of the nation’s greatest wildlife spectacles  -  the fall rut of elk, which here includes literally hundreds of these magnificent creatures.

The stage is the Charles M. Russell Wildlife Refuge, specifically the Slippery Ann Wildlife Viewing area, which is immediately adjacent to where Adam, Sue, Janie and I took out from our seven-day float on the Missouri River one month ago.

It is here that Janie and I watched two nights ago as an estimated 300 elk materialized from stands of cottonwood trees, and then edged closer and closer until it seemed as though we had front seats at what could be  the photo opportunity of a lifetime.

PERFORMANCE WILL BLOW YOUR MIND

The performance began about 5:30 p.m. but before you could see the elk, you could hear them and their famous bugling. Bull elk create the music and do so by tilting back their heads and emitting a sound that begins on a low note then progresses up the scale.  Finally, it ends with a guttural “Ugh, ugh.”   Hearing them is one thing, but when you hear not just one bull creating the sound but dozens, it blows your mind.

The purpose of the bugling – followed by aggressive gestures in which they use their antlers to blow up the dirt, “murder” small trees, or actually engage other bulls in battle – is intended to help each bull establish a territory.

L to R:  Bull elk establish a harem and warn other males to keep out by bugling, fighting and tearing up the ground; CMR attracts thousands annually, often to watch elk; six-point or “Royal” elk.

Here, in a space each bull must mentally define, he guards his developing harem, and woe be to any interloper, particularly to “the welterweights,” or to one whose spread of antlers is inferior – that enters this space. Presumably the genetically superior bull emerges victorious and it is he that passes on his genes.

CMR IS MAGNIFICENT STAGE

We watched the display for about three hours and saw bulls whose antlers were represented by all the various descriptive nomenclature.  Biologists have created a system of classification. Bulls with six tines (most typically) are categorized as a Royal while those with seven or eight are categorized as an Imperial and Monarch, respectively. We saw them all, and most importantly from my perspective, I was able to photograph them all.  To obtain frame filling images I used lens ranging from 400 to 800mm.

Rounding up harem and warning other bulls to keep out.

Dramas such as this should be set on a stage of magnificence, and the CMR qualifies.  Encompassing about 1,100,000 acres, the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge extends 125 miles east/west.  Lewis and Clark saw it first and described the area in glowing terms. The refuge was set aside in 1936 by President Roosevelt and, today, some call it the crown jewel of the National Wildlife Refuge system.

They’ll get no arguments from us.

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THIS TIME FIVE YEARS AGO:

Nova Scotia’s Fort Louisbourg

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©Bert Gildart:  Seasons vary dramatically from year to year, and for the past few days we’ve been enjoying weather that is like that of a mid July day. On this late September day, temperatures peaked at 93 and we parked (not camped — mind you) our Airstream so that we could take advantage of the night skies — cleared with the NPS before pulling in.  Soon coyotes began to howl and the stars came out adding a feeling of euphoria to the Bear Paw Battlefield, located just south of Chinook, Montana.

Airstream overlooks actual site where Miles laid siege to the Nez Perce

How these conditions contrasted with those about 130 years ago when Chief Joseph and his band sought a temporary reprieve from U.S. troops who had chased them for over 1,500 miles. When Joseph, Looking Glass and other significant war chiefs fought here in yet another defensive battle, snow fell and temperatures dipped to well below freezing. Hundreds of women and children in the many Nez Perce families suffered and did so in ways that proved deadly.

SOLIDERS FEARED ANOTHER DEFEAT

The battle occurred in early October of 1877 and commenced when Colonel Miles rode in from the east.  The Nez Perce thought they were days ahead of the troops, but Miles had been alerted of the band’s position, and he intercepted Joseph.  Nevertheless, the warriors rose up, and turned the charge, just as they had done repeatedly over the past few months.

Fearing a defeat such as Custer experienced, Miles retreated and then regrouped, And then he positioned his deadly Hotchkiss gun and began to fire.  Almost immediately two women were killed when the cave in which they’d hoped to find safety collapsed.

Colonel Miles and General Howard continued their assault, and though the Nez Perce fought hard, attrition finally began to mount, and on the afternoon of  October 5, 1877, Joseph asked to surrender to Miles, despite the fact that he and his band were  just 50 miles from the Canadian border — and freedom.  His subsequent words are famous and have been quoted throughout history.

Chief Joseph began by describing the suffering of the children, and then concluded by surrendering his rifle and asking that the opposing soldiers hear him. It has been called one of the most beautiful speeches of surrender ever made:

Tell General Howard I know his heart. What he told me before I have in my heart.  I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead. Toohoolhoolzote is dead. The old men are dead. It is the young men who say yes or no.  The old men are all dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food; no one knows where they are – perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children and see how many I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs, I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.

“FOR JOSEPH CONDITIONS ONLY GOT WORSE”

As Janie and I walked the battlefield trail we were joined by Park Historian Stephanie Martin, who told us that after the surrender conditions for Joseph “only got worse.” Though Miles had promised the Nez Perce that he would return them to their homeland in Idaho, the government countered the wishes of both General Howard and Colonel Miles. Instead, Congress shipped the band to Fort Leavenworth in cattle cars.  Here, disease and weather killed the infants and then settlers dug up the bodies and fed them to their hogs.  “It was,” said Martin, “one of the worst cases of man’s inhumanity to man.”

Joseph's rifle as seen in museum at Fort Benton.

Today, when visitors hike the one and a half mile loop, they can see the site where Chief Looking Glass was killed and where Joseph actually surrendered to Miles.  But they see a more compassionate side of humanity as well.  At various and significant spots along the route, visitors have left offerings that might include tobacco, coins… a dollar bill, the shell of a grouse, beads, or perhaps a smooth rock that Martin says is most likely from Idaho’s Salmon River country.

One of the many sites at which token of remembrance has been left.

The offerings and serenity of the season made us feel as though Joseph had actually found the freedom he had struggled so hard to achieve.  How easy it was to believe that on a warm fall day — and on a night when stars filled the night sky — that all was well. Other than the yip of coyotes, the silence that engulfed us inside our Airstream was absolute.

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THIS TIME FIVE YEARS AGO:

*Harper’s Ferry

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©Bert Gildart:  For the past seven days Janie and I have been floating Montana’s Wild & Scenic Missouri River, one of the most isolated areas remaining in the United States.  We were joined by our good friends Adam and Susan Maffei.

Canoeing Montana's Wild & Scenic Missouri River

The trip is not for everyone. During our journey of about 110 miles we saw but few other people, meaning that one must be comfortable with isolation.  Rather than people, we enjoyed the company of eagles, white pelicans, sheep and a multitude of night sounds created by deer, raccoons and by the yipping of coyotes.  There are no cell phones along the river and certainly no internet connectivity.

L TO R:  Bert, Janie, Susan and Adam

In years gone by the Missouri River was home to a number of homesteaders but, today, few call the banks of the river home.  Other river occupants in the early 1900s include outlaws and some may recall that Marlon Brando and Jack Nickelson portrayed thieves in the movie entitled “Missouri River Breaks.”  In the end Brando is ambushed, dying as his character had lived.

Such recollections make it appear as though none but the most rugged of outdoor people could enjoy such an adventure, but Adam and Sue both worked in the corporate world. We don’t hold that against them and last summer they also joined Janie and me, hiking many of the trails that will soon be described in our 4^th edition of Hiking Shenandoah. They climbed Old Rag with me, also in Shenandoah. On yet another adventure (Alaska’s Chilkoot Pass), they proved they could be depended upon, even when the chips are down.

LEWIS & CLARK SAW IT FIRST

Of course it was Lewis and Clark who first brought attention to the Missouri River and Lewis in his journals described the White Cliffs area of the river, saying that the “Hills and Cliffs present a most romantic appearance.”  We carried their journals with us and marveled at the distances they covered traveling upstream. Our adventure followed the flow of the river and there were a few days when our travels were bested by the Corps’s upstream journey.

Montana's Wild & Scenic Missouri, near Hole in the Wall

Throughout my many years in Montana I have floated the river over a dozen times, several times on extended hunting trips with my son. About 25 years ago I also provided Far Country Press with pictures and text for a book about Montana’s Missouri River.  It was a wonderful project as the area is rich in Montana history, geology, scenery and in wildlife.  Though development is encroaching the river remains relatively pristine, suggesting that there is a great need among people from all walks of life to pit their skills against nature and whatever she might decide to dish out.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Skagway Alaska & The Klondike

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©Bert Gildart: If you have seen charcoal kilns before, quite likely it was while visiting Death Valley National Park. They look like huge beehives, and they were once used in the park for converting wood to charcoal. Though the charcoal then had to be transported from high in the Panamint Mountains to Death Valley proper, the benefits of using charcoal were immense.

Janie hiking into Canyon Creek Charcoal Kilns

Charcoal produces high temperatures required for extracting borax from rock. As well it it burns hotter than wood because it is almost pure carbon. It is also much lighter and easier to transport, making it an efficient and economical method of smelting ore. Because of their mystical beauty, Death Valley features them prominently in many of the their publications.

Though kilns do exist in other parts of the country, such as Colorado and Nevada, most have not withstood the ravages of time. But in Montana, perhaps because the kilns are remote, a group of them still stand, and they remain in very good shape.  To me, they exceed the beauty of those in Death Valley.

REMOTE LOCATION

Located high in the East Pioneer Mountains near Melrose, Montana, we reached the Canyon Creek Charcoal Kilns following an old dirt road that twisted and bumped for about15 miles taking us first to the old mining town of Glendale. Operated by the Hecla Minding Company, the town existed to extract silver in the still-standing smelter, and during its heyday buzzed with activity.  In addition to the miners’ dwellings, there were several saloons featuring “hurdy gurdy” dancers.

Only a few decaying structures remain of the once bustling settlement of Glendale;  though charcoal kilns are showing wear, the Forest Service is attempting to restore luster and structure.

For operation, the smelter depended on charcoal produced by the kilns, located yet another five miles up the road. In the old days, charcoal was hauled from the kilns down the road to Glendale.

NATURAL BEAUTY

The kilns are located on Forest Service lands, and when we reached them we began our exploration simply gazing around at all the natural beauty, and the “hives” that blended but in a surrealistic sort of way.  Nearby ran a small creek known as Canyon Creek, and once it provided water needed in the process of brick building.  Other brick and kiln components included a ready source of clay and sand, and last but not least, an abundance of timber, which came in the form of lodge pole pine.

A trail lead from the parking lot and the Forest Service had posted interpretive signs, explaining that the 25 kilns were 20 feet high and measured 25 feet in diameter. They were used between 1884 and 1900, and during that period contributed to the extraction of more than $20,000,000 worth of silver, making it one of the state’s most productive.

25 well preserved old kilns remain in the East Pioneer Mountains of Montana

Historically, the kilns are reminiscent of one of the state’s most consumptive periods of time. To fire these kilns, reports suggest that loggers working for the Hecla Company cut over 18 section of timber for charcoal use alone.  But those were different times, and today, the kilns remind us of one of state’s most important early day activities; a time when rough shod miners roamed the hills and hurdy gurdy girls danced in nearby saloons.  To preserve history, the Forest Service has been attempting to stabilize the kilns and appear to be succeeding.  The kilns are equally as appealing as those in Death Valley, California, and certainly much closer, at least for those in Montana.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Lilies in Glacier National Park

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©Bert Gildart:  The horses were all beautifully matched pairs and were well trained for the job at the Grant Kohrs Historic Ranch in Deer Lodge, Montana.

“Raise your foot,” said one of the team drivers in a quiet way, reminiscent of the protagonist (Robert Redford, remember?)  in the movie, Horse Whisperer. “Step left.”

Process begins by gathering hay in buck rake

The job at hand was a multi-tasked one and the horses responded on cue.  Horses and the team driver were collecting hay already pushed into windrows, but to now be pushed again with a horse-drawn buckrake to a unique farming implement known as the beaverslide.  When the job is complete, ranchers will have created a pile of hay that looks like a huge breadloaf.

ORIGIN OF BEAVERSLIDES

Beaverslides originated in the Big Hole country, and Jay Nelson provided an initial introduction for me to the procedure, explaining the expediency of using beaverslides with horses.  Nelson had encouraged me to take in the annual demonstration held at the Grant Kohrs Ranch, where I could see well trained horses in use.

First hay is assembled in the slide at its base in a section known as beaverbasket where workers distribute the hay horses have pushed in. Cables are attached to the basket and then string out to the harnesses of another set of powerful horses.  On command, the pair moves forward and the beaverbasket begins to rise.  When it reaches the top, the hay falls off and begins to accumulate into a growing pile.

HAY WAS PERFECT

“The hay couldn’t be better,” one of the old time ranchers told Janie.  “It’s not the least bit wet, and if it were that would make the job more difficult, for it would be heavier.”

Horses (and one set of mules) working the fields with the drivers were perfectly matched Belgians and Percherons, a form of draft horse.  In the old days, ranchers who used such horses (and mules) were proud of the teams, and as Janie’s new ranch friend told her, “Families were proud of their teams in the same way people today are proud of their cars.”

Teamster Kai Christensen, beaverside showing hay being deposited into basket, ranch girls spread hay to facilitate growing “loaf of bread.”

Haying at the Grant Kohrs Ranch is conducted in part to help preserve history.  But it is still used in the southwestern part of Montana, in part because it is still an economical way to gather hay. Perhaps, too, the procedure provides a bit  of nostalgia, the longing for a more simple way of way of life that is devoid of mechanization and that still relies on the use of beautiful draft horses.

TEAMSTERS

Ironically, one of the teamsters was Kai Christensen, a man whom I had met 25 years ago on a five-day wagon trip through the lower Flathead.  Kai was one of the several teamsters Janie and I had enjoyed watching. He handled his horses well, and detailed for me the patience required to help his Belgians overcome the intimidation they felt as they approached the beaverslide.  As well, Kai and I recalled the highlights of the trip we made years ago, and seeing him turned out to be yet another bonus in traveling throughout Montana, as Janie and I have been doing.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Chena River, Alaska

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Star trails intended to create feeling of eternal life at Chief Joseph Battlefield.

©Bert Gildart: Several nights ago I sat outside the framework of a tipi located at Montana’s Big Hole Battlefield. The tipi is thought to be located at the exact site where Chief Joseph slept one night while attempting to elude an army initially lead by General Howard.

Howard was attempting to force this band of Nez Perce onto a reservation site that was not to the tribe’s liking. Now, 150 years later I was attempting to create an image that might symbolize the pathos of a band of men and women doing nothing more than attempting to maintain their freedom.

NO CRIME

I sat there for four hours with my tripod mounted camera pointed at the North Star, and as I lounged in the darkness I could hear all sorts of night sounds that suggested peace and a certain degree of security.  How that contrasted with the horror that followed in the predawn light as Howard’s soldiers fired on the sleeping camp, directing their bullets low so as to intentionally kill women and children as well as the men.

They were guilty of absolutely no crime at all, other then that they wanted freedom.

The government’s cause was Manifest Destiny and the maintenance of the comfort of settlers who had bullied their way into the traditional country of the Nez Perce. These settlers had discovered gold and wanted no conflict from the Indians herding their horses or tending their crops, and though the Nez Perce regrouped that horrible morning and sent Howard and his soldiers retreating, the ultimate story for the Nez Perce, which ended some 2,000 miles later, was a tragic one.

Because Joseph was a good man (probably a brilliant man), respected by all, I had to question the power of a Divine Being looking after all of his children.  Is the ultimate test of right determined by the might of a people and the power of their leaders at a given moment in time?

ARE THERE LESSONS?

What lessons do we take with us from this chapter in American history, and how do we apply them to contemporary times?

In Chief Joseph’s Own Story, he asks in his narration about the conditions that prompted his tribe to rebel.

Who was first to blame? They (referring to individuals in his tribe) had been insulted a thousand times; their fathers and brothers had been killed; their mothers and wives had been disgraced; they had been driven to madness by the whiskey sold to them by the white men… they were homeless and desperate.

Does Joseph and his band wander in new more peaceful land? We will never know.

Ultimately Joseph capitulated to General Miles in Montana’s Bear Paw Mountains. Miles. Miles was sympathetic to the Nez Perce and assured Joseph that he would send his tribe back to the land where his father’s bones rested. However, the U.S. government did not honor the Miles’s promise of 1877.

In his narration Joseph said he would never have surrendered if “I had not believed Miles.” Instead, Joseph and his band were shipped to Fort Keogh and then to a swampland located about four miles from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.  None of these new areas resembled their homeland in the Lapwai Country or present day Idaho and 21 died from various diseases.

Joseph died September 24, 1904 and physicians of the time said the most probable cause was “a broken heart”; and as I sat beneath the various constellations of the night and the millions of stars creating the mystery of the Milky Way, my hopes went out to this good man.

Though I’m inclined to believe that compassion is a product of the here and now, I nevertheless hoped that Joseph and his band ultimately found the freedom they so sought somewhere in the cosmos that appeared so dramatic from the skeletal lodges located now at the Big Hole Battlefield.

I am not sure what lessons we take from the Big Hole, and suspect I never will.

NOTE: Venturing onto the Battlefield at night is illegal unless one has a special permit.  The area is also a burial ground and sensitivity and respect for various local restrictions is paramount.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Lilies In Glacier National Park

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©Bert Gildart: In a flowering field of camas, prairie smoke and bistort, tipi poles stand today like skeletons all reminiscent now of a great tragedy – of a particularly ugly time in America’s history.

Camas now grows in a meadow where Nez Perce Indians once camped, attempting to maintain their freedom; symbolized by tipi poles.

The skeletons remind the sympathetic that on an August morning in 1887, before the sun had even risen, approximately 170 soldiers, led by Colonel John Gibbon, fired into a sleeping camp of approximately 800 Nez Perce Indians. About two thirds of the group were women and children and the only crime they had committed was that they did not want to be forced onto a reservation in Idaho.

BROKEN TREATY

They believed that the treaty of 1863 with the American government, guaranteeing the tribe that the land known as the Wallowa would forever be theirs. Settlers, however, discovered gold in the Walla Walla Valley and the Nez Perce were ordered onto the Lapwai Reservation.

Camas closeup, tipi poles, prairie smoke — all stand in a field where a band of Nez Perce Indians fled from soliders. The Nez Perce hoped to retain freedom and not be forced onto a reservation.  They had been guaranteed the right to remain in their homeland by a treaty of 1863 — but settlers discovered gold.

Many went, but five bands of Non-Treaty Nez Perce refused, and when hostilities broke out in Idaho near the reservation, the five bands were forced to flee.  Leaders such as Chief Joseph and Chief Looking Glass hoped that once they reached Montana they would be safe. They thought they might find a home with the Crow People and so they embarked on a great journey.  And now they were in western Montana, believing themselves to be relatively safe.  Here, along the meandering North Fork of the Big Hole River, all sandwiched between the Beaverhead, Pintlar and Pioneer mountains, they cut lodge poles and erected their tipis (also correct tepee). They hunted and dug the bulbs of camas and bistort, favorite foods they knew from previous hunting excursions to be abundant along the North Fork. Though they posted sentries, the Nez Perce believed the pursuing Army troops were far behind.

MISDIRECTED FORCE

Today, as we walk along the peacefully meandering river, the site of misdirected forces, we read the words of Yellow Wolf from a Park Service brochure.  Yellow Wolf said he returned after the onslaught and began his search for survivors, looking in a maternity lodge that had been occupied by a pregnant woman.  The tipi was silent and inside Yellow Wolf found the woman lying dead in her blankets. In her arms she held her newborn baby, its head smashed by a gun breech or by the heel of a boot.

Immediately after the initial attack the Nez Perce desperately sought cover, running into willow thickets, even submerging themselves in the river, but Chief White Bird’s voice carried over the screams of horror, rifle fire and even canon fire. “Why are we retreating,” he shouted.

Cannon pointed at village which at the time of attack was a peaceful sleeping village

And so began an incredible turn about.  Before long, soldiers fell and soon the tide began to turn on what was to have been a slaughter; and as we walked the fields, our hopes and cheers went out for the Nez Perce. Brave warriors had turned the tide, but unfortunately the tribe had to flee once again, for they knew reinforcements might soon join Colonel Gibbon.

The plight of the Nez Perce is one of the greatest stories of the human spirit for freedom, and later this summer, Janie and I will again meet the tribe. In fact, we plan to meet them twice as our travels will take us through the state, for we are fortunate to have yet another book to work on. As we gather material for our Montana book, we’ll also be covering many other aspects of this state which I began calling home back in the ‘60s.  But the plight of the Nez Perce has always been a subject of great interest, and as we walked the fields of camas, bistort, prairie smoke and all the other features of enduring beauty, its story of pathos continues to stand in stark contrast with the grandeur of this great state.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Airstream Helps Many Age Gracefully

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©Bert Gildart: Considering all the years I have spent in and around Glacier, I’m sure there have been other days I’ve enjoyed  in this magnificent northwestern Montana national park just as much as the one I enjoyed yesterday,  but I honestly can’t remember when.

Angel Wing reflects in Swiftcurrent Lake

Yesterday I teamed up with Jim Andler, an old friend, and we departed Bigfork about 5 am, then made the two and a half hour drive to Babb, Montana. From there we drove along the Many Glacier Road to a barricade,  meaning we had seven miles to cycle into the Many Glacier Hotel.  Though the road has been plowed motorist are excluded while further spring maintenance continues. When weather is like it was yesterday that makes it one of the very best times to visit the park, particularly for the cyclist.

DAY OF PERFECTION

The day was perfectly clear and there was absolutely no wind.  We began cycling about 7:30 and as the day warmed we could feel the coolness from the four- and five-foot-high snow banks that still lingered.  The air was so pure that we could smell sap from trees that had been recently sawed and then removed by spring clean up crews. As we rode, we saw three moose and lots of elk and sheep tracks.  Skies were dark blue and helped dramatize the snow-capped mountains.

CLICK TO SEE LARGER IMAGE.  L TO R: Grinnell Point reflecting in Swift Current Lake; Many Glacier Hotel.

Because  we stopped often to take pictures, it took Jim and me about two hours to reach the hotel. For much of the way, Sherburne Lake flanked our left and it was still iced over. Soon we passed Grinnell Falls and then we arrived at Swift Current Lake, and though it was mostly frozen portions had opened near the shore. Because there was absolutely no wind, the reflections were near perfect and my bank account was happy that I was shooting digital rather than film.

RECORD SNOWS

The historic hotel flanks the  Grinnell shore and much snow still remained piled along its sides. Newspaper tells us that current snow depth is 59 inches or –  put in other words — Many Glacier is 500 percent above the 30 year average. That means melt waters could well flood the first floor of this historic hotel. As is, about one third of the hotel will be closed this summer for restoration. Flood waters may necessitate yet  further closure.

Yesterday temperatures around Glacier approached the 70° and if the unusually warm weather continues,  flooding in and around the park could be intense. The next few weeks will be crucial.

CLICK TO SEE LARGER IMAGE.  L TO R: Moose along road into Many Glacier Hotel; Jim Andler cycling beneath mountains still shrouded with winter  and spring snows; Grinnell Falls.

But yesterday, disaster was something that was difficult to envision. Jim and I ate lunch in the shadow of mountains with names such as Apikuni, Grinnell, and Angle Wing.  As we sat, periodically we could hear booming sounds, and we watched as the melting snow released it heavy loads and then cascaded along the slopes of Grinnell Point.  We departed about 2 pm and an hour later were back at the truck, assisted a bit by mountain breezes – making the day about as perfect as it can ever be.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Arrow Leaf Balsam Root — Another of the Flathead’s Spring Spectacles

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©Bert Gildart: Washington DC is a long way from the home Janie and I have made together now in Montana  for almost 20 years, (our anniversary is May 4th) but not so far from a life full of many histories. We’re both army brats, and once our fathers were stationed in DC, and it is here while in high school that we first met.  We’re now here to attend a memorial service for my godmother, but while in DC  it is only natural that Janie and I might tour old haunts, both those of our parents and those of our own.

Some say the streets of Walter Reed once ran with soap; Janie’s old home at Walter Reed, now posted with keep out signs.

Janie’s father served as a doctor at Walter Reed and with little trouble we found her old home, just off Alaska Avenue.  Rumor has it that many functions of this historic old army post may be relegated to the Bethesda Naval Hospital, and from the looks of her beautiful old home, which is now empty and plastered with “Do Not Trespass” signs, perhaps the rumors are true.

STREETS THAT SPARKLED

The home is not far from my godmother’s, and Janie and I retraced our steps from years ago, when we would walk to her home perhaps a mile away.  At the time I attended Bullis Prep School, also an easy walk in those days from Janie’s home. Today, the old prep school has moved out of town – and I doubt I could ever sneak back up the fire escape and into the dorm room after curfew, something I did often in those days – and with ease. I doubt, too, that Janie (or maybe, Ha,  it was her friends??) could ever get away with dumping boxes of tide into the old fountain just outside the medical center.

CLICK TO SEE LARGER IMAGES. L TO R: Roosevelt’s New Deal helped eliminate the long welfare lines, symbolic of the Depression years; Lincoln, modified into a “sepia toned” print; haunted faces as created by artist at Korean Memorial.

But as well as a walk down memory lane, we also toured many of DC’s “Capitol Parks,” most notably the Lincoln Memorial, the FDR Memorial, the Korean Memorial and the Vietnam Memorial.  In more reflective moments, all those memorials provide meaningful lessons, many of which are very personal.

CAPITOL PARKS

But no significant revelations in this posting, and like many other posts, this one was really intended to be a photo blog, and that (mostly) is what it will now become. To add a bit of drama to the FDR and Korean War Memorial I set the camera to manual, used flash but then underexposed the daylight setting by several stops.  For drama I also converted the monochromatic statue of Lincoln to a sepia toned image. (Click the two above links for night images.)

Plane over Lincoln Memorial about to land at Dulles Airport was symbolic for Janie and me.

Perhaps the most dramatic image is the one with the plane flying overhead, and it seemed to symbolize all that has happened both good and bad since I left DC so long ago.  Life is certainly easier back in Montana, but it is always grand for army brats to explore rootless backgrounds for added perspective on both themselves and on where we’ve come as a nation. They remind, too, that at times we have all fit into this historic American tapestry, despite “patches”  that may not seem particularly significant. But that is simply not true, as the poets sometimes remind us.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR

*Retrospective on Glacier’s first fatal maulings

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©Bert Gildart: Officially, the Civil War began 150 years ago on April 12, 1861, but anyone somewhat  knowledgeable about American history knows that several earlier dates might be ascribed to its beginning.

Canon at Gettysburg

There was the infamous John Brown Rebellion, which Robert E. Lee squelched as a Union officer in 1859.  But even before that, history has taught us that our Constitution of 1776 set us up for the war, asserting as it did that “all men are created equal.” However, it welcomed into the Union states that were avowed slaves states. In fact, the Constitution of the Confederacy was based on the foundation that the Negro is not equal to the white man, “that slavery… is his natural and normal condition.”

MORAL IMPERATIVE?

Victors, of course, always consider themselves morally superior, nevertheless, the question that continues to assert itself in the mind of many is: what would have happened had the war not been fought, a war that resulted in the death of 620,000? Horrible (See  previous posts from Andersonville and Antietam) as it was –  was the abolition of slavery worth all those lives? Was it worth the absolute destruction of Atlanta, the devastating siege of Vicksburg,  the complete looting  of homes in Fredericksburg…

CLICK TO SEE LARGER IMAGES: (L to R): Statue at Gettysburg; Robert E. Lee put down John Brown rebellion at Harper’s Ferry; 20,000 killed at Antietam in the course of a single day.

Many believe slavery would have died of its own accord, and some very prominent southerners had abandoned the practice, believing it morally wrong.  Among them was Robert E. Lee, who once wrote his wife saying: … “In this enlightened age, there are few I believe, but what will acknowledge, that slavery as an institution, is a moral & political evil in any Country.”

HEROES OF THE TIME

But men of the time were impatient, and so a war was waged. Paradoxically perhaps, but in my mind’s eye Robert E. Lee and Abraham Lincoln both emerged as heroes, but I sympathized  with Lee, believing as he did that it would have been impossible to fight and kill members of my own family.  Some historians also believe that Lee hoped his resolve might end the war and that the two sides would reunite as one; and in the beginning, it appeared as though he might succeed, for Lee and Stonewall Jackson outgeneraled their  foes at every turn, yielding only toward the end when northern masses and vast technology finally prevailed four long years later.

Lincoln on the other hand had a vision, one that might have been difficult for a young man engulfed by the vitriol of contemporaries to share. Lincoln realized that to survive as a country, we must have unity. And unity back then could not have included slavery.

CLICK TO SEE LARGER IMAGES (L to R): Statue intended to depict horrors of the Andersonville Civil War Prison Camp; Lincoln pennies atop Gettysburg Address; Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. Had Lincoln not been assassinated post war difficulties would have been more readily resolved:  “With malice toward none, with charity for all,” were words from another famous Lincoln speech.

And so the North and South engaged in a horrible war. But the war provided a legacy, and it lives on as a series of lessons found today in a number of National Park Service managed areas.  Visiting those battlefields is what Janie and I have been doing every chance we get. We hope these images serve to remind readers of the horror that can occur when men can not agree, but then, too, of the capacity to forgive though never to forget.

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Note: We’ll be visiting family on the East Coast for the next two weeks, but will be returning on our round trip flight May 2.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace Lures Model-T  Owner Every Year

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©Bert Gildart: It’s been  25 years ago since Bruce May, then a biologist with Montana Fish Wildlife and Parks, and I canoed 100 miles of the Everglades Wilderness Waterway.  I’m reminded of the event as we celebrated Bruce’s birthday two days ago. As we visited we realized that this month marked the anniversary of that adventurous outing.

We reached Chickee late in the evening, after porpoise guided the way.

At the time I was gathering information about national parks for a story for the United States Information Agency (USIA), and in many ways we lucked out. Spring in the Everglades can be a horrible time because of the bugs, but shortly before we arrived there had been an unusually cold spell and it killed most of the mosquitoes and the no-see-ems. As well, we didn’t understand much about tides, and one day our timing was all wrong, and though we were heading toward the ocean, tides on this vast “river of grass” were rising, and by day’s end, we were exhausted.

DOLPHIN LED THE WAY

Yet on another day of our outing we turned down the wrong channel and when we realized our mistake by then we’d gone several miles out of our way.  If we didn’t want to spend the night at water level with all the alligators we had to find the correct channel; and we had to find an elevated platform known as a “chickee.”

Though what I’m about to relate seems preposterous, it’s all true.

L to R: When the tide went out channels lost water forcing us to struggle with canoe; Anhinga, one of more common bird species; in an area called the “Nightmare” alligators were everywhere.

Moments later, a dolphin swam into view, and we decided to follow it. Reversing our course, we managed to stay in sight and it soon led us to the correct channel, and then, soon, to the chickee. We erected our tent, put up a lantern, and then listened to all the night sounds, which were kind of spooky.

Next morning we arose and discovered that our canoe was hanging from the bow rope and except for the very stern was completely out of water. Thankfully, we’d removed everything the night before, else much might have drifted away.

Bruce has been a good friend most all of my adult life and it is wonderful to have friends with whom one can share past adventures. Canoeing the Everglades and its Wilderness Waterway was certainly one of the best.

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THIS TIME FOUR YEARS AGO:

*A Letter to Save the Everglades

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Our camp near Caribou Pass, which is not a wasteland as some would have you believe.

©Bert Gildart: Fifty years ago this past December President Eisenhower created the Arctic National Wildlife Range “for the purpose of preserving unique wildlife, wilderness and recreational values.” It was the first time in American history that an entire ecosystem was granted federal protection.

Nineteen million acres were set aside ranging from Kaktovik in the Beaufort Sea and then south, crossing over the Brooks Range then dropping down onto Arctic Village, Alaska.

But although the land is de facto wilderness, ever since Eisenhower’s designation oil companies have eyed the area as a potential for exploitation. I am proud to say that Janie and I have fought along with the Gwich’in Indians, hoping that we – along with the millions of others who love the refuge – might succeed in protecting this sacred land. To insure the integrity of these lands is maintained,  President Obama should elevate the refuge to a National Monument.

We continue to work toward greater protection and our  weapons have been photographs and stories, and they have appeared in dozens of different publications. Our intention has been to chronicle misconception – and sometimes to point out downright lies.

At times, we’ve been funded by major organizations and several years ago The Wilderness Society flew us over the refuge. Later, some members of Congress used my images to illustrate the beauties of the refuge. Some of my other work on the refuge has appeared in Time Life, National Wildlife, Defenders of Wildlife, Highlights for Children, the New York Times, and many, many others.

NOT A WASTELAND!

Unfortunately, some Senators and Congressmen never get off their fat duffs but feel, nevertheless, that they can make sweeping statements. “It’s a wasteland,” said Trent Lott several years ago, a man who has never stepped foot there.

Unlike Mr. Lott, Janie and I have intimate acquaintance with the refuge. We’ve hiked the entire length of the refuge, traveled the major rivers in our johnboat, and we’ve served as summer school teachers in five different Gwich’in Indian villages. We know the refuge for what it is; and that is one of the world’s last self-regulating ecosystems. As well, we know it as a place whose beauty can not be matched, something I hope images posted here will dramatize.

MISREPRESENTATION?

One of the major misconceptions concerns caribou, and people such as Sarah Palin have a way of distorting the facts. Palin and Lott and others of their persuasion say the Central Caribou herd has not been affected, implying that oil development will be good for the Porcupine Caribou herd, the herd dependent on the Arctic Refuge. But there are immense differences as Gwich’in spokeswoman Sarah James of Arctic Village has been pointing out for years.

CLICK FOR LARGER IMAGE: Our camp, deep in Arctic Refuge; fox returning with ground squirrel to feed young; caribou migrate by our camp near Caribou Pass, not far from Beaufort Sea; camped on Porcupine River, a tributary of Yukon and reached only following week of boat travel.

James says the Porcupine Caribou herd needs the Arctic Refuge for calving, a life cycle forged more than 100,000 years ago. According to the Gwich’in, the coastal plains of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is the core and sacred birthplace of the herd, the vadzaih googii vi dehk’it gwanlii – or “sacred place where life begins” – and this wild nursery must remain intact. To deflect attention from the true biological purpose of this place oil companies have designated the nursery as “The 1002 Area.” What bull crap!

TELL THE WHOLE STORY

As well, oil companies say the Central Caribou herd, which calves near Prudhoe Bay, has expanded its numbers despite drilling. That, James admits, is true. But she insists such expansion is “only part of the story.”

Gwich’in communities and effects of refuge spill over into McKenzie River Delta; Rock John with huge pike caught near Arctic Village on Chandalar River; roasting caribou heads over fire.

James says the untold story concerns geography. In the area where the Porcupine herd calves, the Brooks Range is separated from the Arctic Ocean by about 15 miles. Not so just to the west, where the Central Caribou herd calves. There, as you proceed from east to west, the Brooks Range sweeps to the south, so much so that the mountains are separated from the Arctic Ocean by almost 100 miles. Caribou in the Central herd have room to roam, but not those in the Porcupine herd.

REFUGE SHOULD BE NATIONAL MONUMENT

Because the refuge is a land of such beauty one might think this would be a year to celebrate, and thankfully, there have been accomplishments. But oil companies and Alaska developers such as Sarah Palin are “reloading,” and I hope that Ms. Palin finds that her language – and her inflammatory graphics – do nothing more than ricochet back.

Like a spider web, the threads of Prudhoe spread over the coastal plains and most certainly effect caribou and a beauty that is unique in the world.

Encourage President Obama to safeguard the Arctic Refuge by making its coastal plain a national monument.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Gator Drama In Shark Valley

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©Bert Gildart: This past month has seen my images featured in a number of books and magazines. Two images may be appeal to those interested in one of Death Valley’s more famous characters, and in the creative use of Lightroom. I’m also posting these two as right about now, Janie and I would both like to be in Death Valley, away from this temperamental Montana weather that sees one day raining the next day snowing.

The two images are of Marta Becket and her work, something most everyone who lives in and around Death Valley knows a little something about.

Marta came to this remote part of the country in 1967 when she was in her early 40s but why she settled in this remote area is a mystery. Specifically, the area is known as Death Valley Junction, and it’s a place where the wind can howl and companions are most likely to be kangaroo rats.

Amargosa Opera House

An acquaintance believes that she had some kind of an epiphany. She and her husband had a flat tire, but she apparently saw something in the old adobe structure that no one else saw.

WORLD CLASS PERFORMANCES

With the vision of creating a dance performance Marta Becket began making presentations. At first few attended, but because she wanted to feel as though she had an audience, she told me that she painted the murals.

Marta Becket

As you can see, she is an incredible artist recognized by a number of Hollywood celebrities, many who have purchased her individual paintings. As well, her dance performances eventually began to attract an international audience. For more about her work see Marta One and Marta Two.

LIGHTROOM

Photographing the interior of Marta’s auditorium was a challenge, and without Lightroom and some knowledge about photography in general it would have been difficult.

Because illumination was so very low, I place the camera on a tripod and made a long exposure. That enabled me to provide a proper exposure for the paintings, but the beams of light were very much overexposed.

I took care of that problem using a component of Lightroom to precisely dim the point sources of light. Then I used the program’s exceptional Noise Reduction feature to reduce the bleeding of colors that sometimes occurs from long time exposures – or from images made with a high ISO.

For the image of Marta, I used two strobes, with Janie holding the main light off to the side. I backed off on the light output from the on-camera strobe by 1/3 of an f-stop. Both strobes were Nikon SB800s.

It’s fun for us to review published images, particularly when they evoke memories of clear skies and much warmth. But we’re here, essentially because it provides a good environment to finish a book I’m contractually obligated to complete about Glacier National Park, a favorite place most months of the year.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Death Valley & Challenge for Photographers

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©Bert Gildart: It’s always a pleasure for Janie and me to sort through images I’ve produced over the year and decide which we like best. Although I’m usually the one depressing the shutter, often Janie holds strobes or serves as a model, sometimes in very challenging positions.

Travel creates some unusual opportunities, and 2010 was no exception, and so we were able to examine images from Anza Borrego, Zion, Sonny Bono Wildlife Refuge, and a few places along the East Coast to include Cumberland, Bull Run and Andersonville.

L to R: Kayaking to Cumberland Island National Seashore; Daniela Weiss peering down from Angel’s Landing and onto canyon created by Virgin River.

Several images from Zion brought back delightful memories, particularly one of Daniela Weiss peering down from Angel’s Landing onto the canyon created by the Virgin River.

CUMBERLAND ISLAND RANKED HIGH

As well, an image of Janie and me kayaking from South River State Park in Georgia, across the Intercoastal waterway and then, finally, seven miles later reaching our destination. For us, this image approaching Cumberland Island National Seashore also ranked high.

L to R:  petroglyphs at Hell’s Canyon;  fairy shrimp, which emerge but once on average every five years — both from Anza Borrego Desert State Park.

But the images that seemed best from a photographic point of view were the ones taken in and around Anza Borrego Desert State Park, and perhaps this should not seem surprising when we recall the months we spent camped in this wonderful California area. While there we hiked to a spot preserving the ancient images of Indian art, and because of the photographic techniques, including the balancing of several strobes with daylight, I liked that image.

FAIRY SHRIMP CHALLENGED

So, too, the image of fairy shrimp, which emerge only following extreme desert rains, generally about once every five year. Last year was one of those years, and at the time I posted this image and described the elaborate techniques for recording these inch-long crustaceans.

Despite the successful documentation of the above, my favorite image of 2011 was taken near Sonny Bono Wildlife Refuge of a pair of burrowing owls.

BIZARRE NEST TOPS LIST

Though it is difficult to photograph these tiny owls, even more difficult was finding a pair with a compelling story. Farm practices have eliminated the burrows required by these diminutive owls, forcing them in several cases to resort to discarded tractor tires.

Twenty-first Century provides many challenges for wildlife, epitomzed by the bizarre nest these burrowing owls had to settle for -- a Good Year Tractor Tire.

Publication also makes a statement and several of these images have already appeared in magazines; others will soon follow.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Ghost Mountain

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