©Bert Gildart: For Eric Hansen and me the day could not have started out better! About a half hour after departing our camp at Pegleg, we found ourselves driving through a rugged portion of Anza Borrego Desert Park on our way to Indian Hill (also a rugged). Though the sun was just barely peeping over the horizon, as we rounded a  steep curve not far from one of the park’s major passes,  Eric, who is always on the lookout for bighorn sheep, hollered: “Bert! Up there on that cliff.  A ewe and a lamb.”

Distant sighting of young lamb topped day of superlatives at Anza Borrego.

For my Montana friends familiar with sheep biology, mark down February 17. Here ewes give birth in mid February, not early June as they do in Glacier National Park. But the conditions are similar. Both desert bighorns and Rocky Mountain bighorns seek out the most rugged terrain they can find, and this ewe was no different, for the high pass was about as rugged as you can find. Similarly, young seem born with protective camouflage, blending as they do almost perfectly in color with the surrounding rocks.

How do the ewes known to find terrain that so perfectly matches their young? And how did we know this lamb was just born?

Though I can’t answer the first question, the fact that the lamb still retained a shriveling umbilical cord was proof positive. More than likely this tiny lamb was no more than four- to five-days old – if that.

Click to see expanded caption and for larger image.

The photographs I made were all taken from the road and from a distance as well. The pair showed no concern responding to our presence simply by moving behind a creosote bush. We drove on to our day’s objective, which was Indian Hill, a remote section of the park.

CENTURY PLANTS

Our goal was to find a unique set of pictographs, and though we were unsuccessful, we were highly successful in other ways. Several agave plants were in bloom, meaning that a long life is about to end. Though also called “Century Plants,” most likely they grow but 35 to 50 years, finally, putting forth flowers at life’s end. Several had completed their life span and were now – at long last — flowering. Not only were the yellow blossoms gorgeous, but they were attracting bees and hummingbirds, and, so, were serving another function.

Rocks in the Indian Hills area also created interesting patterns, which I photographed. As well a railroad track reminded us that the rocks were once an impediment for those constructing the Carrizo George Railway. Evidence of past construction was manifest and we found a now deteriorating wall that had been built, in part, with explosive cans.

Click to see expanded caption and for larger image.

But the rocks were not an impediment to all, and once served as ancient Indian shelters and as sites for the creation of pictographs. And though we couldn’t find any that’s not all bad for the country was gorgeous, meaning that we have an excuse to return.

And then, of course, there was our rare sighting of the new-born desert bighorn lamb, which really topped the day.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

Gator Drama in Shark Valley

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Bert Gildart: Two years ago I wrote a major story for magazine produced by The Wilderness Society about global warming. At the time I quoted Dr. Erik Beever, one of the premier scientists working on the subject. He was concerned about the effect rising temperatures would have on pika, a tiny member of the rabbit family and one I have posted on previously. Much of his work has been centered on pika in wilderness areas of the Great Basin. Because pika can not tolerate the increasing temperatures associated with global warming he said that the species is like the canary in the coal mine, telling us world temperatures are too high.

A member of the rabbit family whose survival depends on the cold temperatures previously associated with high altitudes.

Beever says that archaeological evidence proves pika have inhabited the Great Basin for the past 40,000 years and that in 1940, scientists cataloged 25 distinct populations in the region. In 1992 Beever began his investigations but found only 19 pika populations. In 2004 subsequent research indicated his 19 had dropped to 17 and that all pika had migrated up about 130 vertical yards.

Despite the fact that he believes pika will most likely be gone from the Great Basin,” the US Fish and Wildlife Service released findings today saying the pika need not be placed on the endangered species list. Though their findings contradict those of some scientists, here is what they had to say.

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

“Although the American pika is potentially vulnerable to the impacts of climate change in portions of its range, the best available scientific information indicates that pikas will be able to survive despite higher temperatures. Pikas will have enough suitable high elevation habitat to prevent them from becoming threatened or endangered. As a result, the pika does not meet the criteria for protection under the Endangered Species Act.

“We have completed an exhaustive review of the scientific information currently available regarding the status of the American pika and have analyzed the potential threats to the species,” said Steve Guertin, the Service’s Director of the Mountain-Prairie Region. “Based on this information, we have determined that the species as a whole will be able to survive despite increased temperatures in a majority of its range and is not in danger of extinction in the foreseeable future…

TEMPERATURE SENSITIVITY

“A key characteristic of the American pika is its temperature sensitivity. Pikas cannot tolerate much higher body temperatures than their norm of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Therefore, the species is found at progressively higher elevations, where cooler temperatures are found, as one moves south through the range of the species.  In Canada, populations occur from sea level to 9,842 feet, but in New Mexico, Nevada, and southern California, populations rarely exist below 8,202 feet.

The pika is like the canary in the coal mine telling us by its demise that world temperatures are critically high.

“Several climate change variables can affect pika populations, including extremely hot or cold days, average summer temperatures, and duration of snow cover.  In general, pika biologists agree that temperatures below the habitat surface, such as in loose rock area crevices, better approximate the conditions experienced by pikas because they rely on subsurface habitat to escape hotter summer daytime temperatures and obtain insulation during the colder winter months. Therefore, surface temperatures may not be as useful as subsurface temperatures for predicting the effects of climate change on pika populations…”

The paper continues, noting that their finding suggest pika will survive in the Great Basin as well as in areas such as Bodie, California and in the hot climates of Craters of the Moon (Idaho) and Lava Beds National Monuments (California). They say that pikas persist at these sites because they reduce activity during hot mid-day temperatures by retreating to significantly cooler conditions under the loose rock areas and perform daily activities during the cooler morning and evening periods. Despite altering their behavior in response to high temperatures, pikas can maintain high birth and low mortality rates.

Obviously there are different theories regarding the future of the pika and although I’m inclined to place more credence in the finding of Mr. Beever, I hope the USFW is correct. Pikas are diminishing in number from Glacier National Park (as well as the park’s glaciers!) as well as from the Great Basin. I also hope enough of these charismatic little creatures survive to ultimately replenish their kind.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Badwater, Where An Entire River Can Disappear

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©Bert Gildart:  The torrential rains, which I mentioned in my last posting – and that lasted for five full days – have finally ceased. They stopped three days ago leaving the ground saturated in a way they’ve not been in years. Mike the mechanic at a local garage said he’d lived here for 20 years, emphasizing “I’ve never seen the equal!”

Trails lead directly from Pegleg into surrounding mountains.

Though the rains have forced most of inside we Pegleggers are an industrious crowd and have found things to do. Charging batteries in the rain has been a problem, forcing us to rely on our generators. To keep them dry we placed generators on elevated blocks of wood beneath the lowered the tailgates of our pickups. To keep the contents in the bed of our pickups dry, we spread tarps over the opening and then Bungeed them in placed so the winds wouldn’t whip them around.

Made comfortable in that manner we then went about our various activities, which wasn’t a problem for me as the seclusion allowed me to work on stories and photographs.

VERBAL INTERCOURSE THAT WAS PROFOUND

But you can’t work all the time, so Janie and I have played cards with Fireman Ted and his wife Carol. Ted and Carol are both great readers and had introduced us to a book called The Road. Authored by Cormac McCarthy the book is listed on Oprah’s Book Club. By the time the rains had arrived we’d all read the profoundly dark master piece, which has a post-apocalyptic setting. None of us could put the book down and the bleak rains seemed to provide the proper setting for much verbal intercourse. Might McCarthy portend the future of mankind?

The rains provided yet more. One dark and bleak night Bruce the lawyer invited us to the VFW for taco night. The club was packed and the mood was so festive that the rains of the evening were themselves drowned out by all the bon home.

Click on each image to see enlarged version and to see extended caption.  L to R: Driving through Slot Mountain, “Wind Caves,” Badlands as seen from Wind Caves.

But now, after enduring such extreme hardships we’re delighted to report that all here at Pegleg have survived – and that all but a few remained. And these people should take note that we no longer view them as true Pegleggers, for they couldn’t tolerate a little inconvenience .

On the other hand we have proven to be more than just fair-weather Pegleggers. We remained, and can report that our Airstream didn’t float away. We’re safe and sound and now out hiking local trails accessed from our RVs and admiring the distant peaks some of which are now covered with snow! (see image of Janie above.)

And now we’re exploring a little more of this incredible park.

CAVES ETCHED BY WINDS

One of the places we’ve long wanted to see is an area accessed through Split Mountain known as Wind Caves. We joined Don the forest economist and his wife Nancy and, using their vehicle, drove about 20 miles to an area of the highway known as the “Texas Dip,” (probably because it is so big) and then on along a dirt road which we soon accessed through a series of immensely slotted canyons. After about an hour, we reached our trailhead and then struck out.

The climb was steep, but the hike worth the effort for, indeed, the area is appropriately named. Below badlands spread out, and off in the distance I saw a couple threading their way through an austere landscape created by hundreds of completely eroded hills. At this point, we were not far from the Mexican border.

MURKY THOUGHTS

A little more hiking and we came to a series of hills that contained caves, arches and windows all of which demanded exploration.  We explored these features then we sat and soaked up the scenery and ate lunch.

Several hours later we retraced our steps, and as Don and Nancy were descending the light was such that it etched the gully washers in a way that dramatized the rains not only of the past few days but also of the eons. Cast against this immense landscape of time and breadth Don and Nancy looked incredibly insignificant, reminding me once again that the universe is big and that we’re small — but hopefully not irrelevant.

Good Lord, I hope we remain rain free for the remainder of our encampment, else how will we Pegleggers ever survive the accretion of such murky thoughts?

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Gators On My Mind

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©Bert Gildart:  Here at Pegleg (located in California’s Anza Borrego Desert State Park), Janie and I experienced another downpour of torrential rains, which  started yesterday about 3 in the afternoon. For over an hour, rain fell in buckets. When the rains did cease about an hour later, we went outside to survey the results, and they were impressive. Up on the hill, waters were literally streaming down the hill in what appeared to be genuine waterfalls. At the base of the hill, several “rivers” converged and then spread out over the campground. In places waters that were four- to six-inches deep engulfed our trailer and we joked about sandbagging and applying for relief funds.

Waters that were two to four inches deep engulfed our trailer.

We joked until we learned that just west of us heavy rains have created mudslides and are forcing people to evacuate their homes. According to a report I read in the Los Angles Times, the foothills to our west have received almost 5 inches of rain since Sunday. Another storm is predicated for today and that according to Department of Public Works Director Gail Farber who was interviewed by the L.A. Times,  will drop another 4 to 8 inches on the area.

MORE RAINS EXPECTED

The official went on to say that the ground is “really saturated right now from the two storms that came through the past two days.” Ms. Farber expressed concern for mountain residents about the storm that is predicted for today.  She said people in some places will be asked to evacuate.

Tentatively, Janie peers outside to watch the rising waters.

The storm is the result of a strong jet stream that is sending a line of storms ashore from the Pacific Ocean. Wet weather is apparently expected to continue through Thursday.

Though we’re obviously not escaping the torrential rains, here at Pegleg we’re about five miles from the mountains, where the brunt of the storm is being experienced. Nevertheless, we’re seeing several inches of water engulfing our trailer all of  which makes for interesting conversations and predictions that the desert will indeed be carpeted this spring with flowers. Several years ago the carpets of desert wildflowers were impressive, and with the rains this could provide an equal.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*The Eyes of the Canyon (about desert bighorn)

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©Bert Gildart:

Dateline Pegleg, America! Our friend Richard is the purveyor of all the news at Pegleg that is important. Making the rounds throughout camp on his well-used  bicycle, he informs everyone who is up: “It’s Monday, January 18,” he heralds.  “What more do you need to know?”

Richard’s news really is news for some out here in California’s Anza Borrego Desert State Park who don’t even seem to know what month it is. Or at least they’re confused, and that should not be as surprising as it might seem. Some of us are from the north, such as Montana and Canada. Others, all the way from Vermont, and to be sitting outside in shirt sleeves and shorts in weather that is actually warm in January (or is it May?) is, well, just different.

For us, campfires have added a new dimension to the Pegleg adventure, enabling us to share life experiences.

Pegleggers, we think, are an interesting group coming from all different walks of life. Right now there are about twenty of us, and we represent a variety of backgrounds, sharing in common several facts. All of us are a little on the cheap side, enjoying the fact that we’re saving about $600 a month by “boondocking,” meaning that we’re pretty much self-contained. We also share the fact that most of us are either self employed or retired. Here’s a quick breakdown:

DIVERSE GROUP

Bruce was a lawyer; Ted a fireman. Don has a PhD and worked as an economist for the Forest Service and served as a college professor. He’s now retired and he and Nancy travel in their Airstream to such places as Padre Island (Padre Island2, Padre Island3). Others we’ve met here at Pegleg include an airline mechanic, a plumber, a musician, and several teachers. As I say, Pegleg hosts people from all walks of life, and we’ve not met a single person whose company we don’t enjoy.

Over half in the group have been married more than once so some share pasts that require a little digging, but all eventually want to tell their story, and some are very spicy. We suspect some of the stories are edited for the audience. Others in Pegleg are widows or widowers, who acknowledge that at this stage of their lives they don’t want to be alone, and are very grateful they’ve found someone with whom they can bond.

But regardless of their past what all Pegleggers seems to share is a sense of curiosity and adventure – and some have lived exceedingly adventurous lives – and believe they’re still doing so.

Bruce once sailed the Pacific, and mostly by himself. Richard sailed, too, but generally as a member of a small crew on someone else’s boat. During those years, sailing adventures took them both throughout the Pacific, and in Richard’s case, to Australia and to New Zealand. Both have weathered “Perfect Storms.”

We enjoy hearing these stories and all seem to delight in hearing ours. We all believe that RVing as full-timers or as full-time part timers (nine twelfth-ers we like to say) continues the sense of curiosity and adventure and all of us can tally off remote parts of North America to which we’ve traveled. For instance, in the past few years we’ve been to such farflung places as Nova Scotia and the Dry Tortugas.

Speaking from a very personal point of view, photography remains a huge part of the adventures that Janie and I enjoy, and on that note, I’ll provide a few thoughts on the posted image.

PHOTO NOTES

Those who are not familiar with photography might think that the fire is providing the sum total of all the light used for lighting Don, Janie and Nancy, but that is not the case. Once again I’ve used my two SB-800s and have covered the face of the units with the red gel filter that came with each. So covered the strobes add a fire-like glow to the scene, and couldn’t be accomplished without the gel. Strobes were placed on tiny stands between the fire and the fire watchers.

All of us think the evening fire we’ve enjoyed this year helps to make Pegleg. Last year we had no fire and cold from the desert nights did little to encourage us to remain outside. Ted, the retired fireman from Canada, and I have been getting the wood, using his small portable chain saw and the back end of my truck for hauling. Now we’re warm and that encourages the sharing of life adventures in the evening.

STORM BREWING

Though we’re all self-contained, Janie and I weren’t so completely independent last year. That’s when we headed to the Slabs ( fascinating in itself) and had “Solar Mike” tie in another solar panel. It has served us and has continued to do so while we’ve been at Pegleg this year, but things are about to change. Heavy clouds are moving in and solar panels, of course, require sun. But that may not happen for the next few days, as several rain storms are forecast.

Rain in the desert? It happens every now and then, and when it happens, it paves the way for wonderful displays of flowers. That, of course, is weeks away, and in the meantime we’ll just bide our time, hoping Richard will continue to make his daily bike rides throughout Pegleg, keeping us informed of the day – and even the month.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

Year’s Favorite Photos

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Departing Smuggler's Canyon

©Bert Gildart: Smuggler’s Canyon overlook provides what many say is one of Anza Borrego’s most scenic vistas, which it certainly could be. It is reached following a hike of about a mile and a half, the last hundred yards of which threads through a maze of boulders and steep-sided walls. Historians caution, however, that Smuggler’s Canyon may be a misnomer, noting that smugglers could never use the area as there is simply no reasonable access.

In a round about way Bill and Polly Cunningham, friends of ours from Montana, explain as much in their their book Best Easy Day Hikes, Anza-Borrego.

They say that when you reach the overlook there is an abrupt drop-off above Smuggler’s Canyon, “so keep an eye,” they advise, “on overly adventurous members in your hiking party.”

The drop-off they’re referring to is also known as a “dryfall,” created by water, but which runs only following exceptional downpours. But they’re right, the drop off is substantial, descending about 150 feet. And because it does so abruptly people wonder how it could have ever been used successfully by smugglers?

From our readings of Marshall South’s various entries, we believe he was aware of the overlook as he spoke of other aspects of the vista, which includes the old Vallecito Stagecoach station all of which is back dropped by the rugged peaks of the Tierra Blanca, Jacumba, and Coyote mountains.

SPECTACULAR PICTOGRAPHS

Though the vista is worth a hike in itself initially we were drawn to this area because of the pictographs, which take you back hundreds of years. Pictographs differ from Petroglyphs in that the former are created from pigments while the latter by chipping and scraping. Both were, of course, created by Native Americans of the time, meaning these works of art date back hundreds of years.

According to Lowell and Diana Lindsay, in the informative book The Anza-Borrego Desert Region, the pictographs you’ll see along this trail are unusual for “their well executed red and yellow symbolic designs consisting of interlaced elements in a diamond-chain motif.”

Click on each image to see larger version and extended caption.

Janie and I have seen Petroglyphs and pictographs in many areas of the Southwest and concur that these images are extremely well preserved. No one has carved their name over them or destroyed them with bullet holes as have so many in other parts of country.

PHOTOGRAPHIC CHALLENGE

For photographers the images could represent a challenge, and I find most of the time they photograph best with strobe lights. Specifically, I use two, one of which Janie holds. The other is on my Nikon D300 and I set my SB-800s so the daylight exposure is about one stop less than the setting for my strobes.

View from dryfalls of Vallecito Stagecoach stop and Vallecito Mountains, all of which is spectacular.

But you may not be concerned about photography, and if simply seeing beautiful country is your goal, this hike is a winner. Simultaneously, it exposes you to Rock Art and so to a bit of America’s earliest history.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

Ranger Overboard

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©Bert Gildart: The trail over Alcoholic Pass is a good route to follow in early January, for it twists and turns, “like a drunk,” is the legendary association, so serving to remind some of New Years resolutions. (Are you keeping yours?)

Alcoholic Trail twists and turns, and is here seen dropping down on to Coyote Creek, explored by de Anza in 1774.

Diana Lindsay provides a springboard for yet other thoughts, writing in her book Anza Borrego A – Z that the trail might have been so named because of the drinking habits of several early settlers, specifically the Clark brothers and Cod Beaty. Apparently these men made extensive use of the trail (often inebriated) and so their names are historically linked with the trail, a reminder that we must continuously tread our trails through life with circumspect. That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m quite ready to give up cocktail hour around our evening campfire at Pegleg, for it’s now a tradition after a long day hiking, particularly following a rewarding but vigorous hike in California’s Anza Borrego Desert State Park.

With those thoughts in mind, yesterday, I joined Don and Nancy Dennis, our Airstream traveling companions, and made the short drive from our campsite here in Pegleg along the old Anza route to the Alcoholic Pass trailhead. The rocky path climbs through a forest of desert cacti to include various types of cholla, mesquite, and ocotillo.

Click on each image to see larger version and to see extended caption.

L to R: Don and Nancy, boulders at Alcoholic Pass, back lighting dramatizes ocotillo cacti.

The trail continues to climb until it reaches Alcoholic Pass, which is spectacular because it peers over several valleys and several mountain ranges. It also peers over one of the most spectacular boulder fields you’ll ever see.

SURROUNDED BY MOUNTAINS

From our vantage at the pass in the Coyote Mountains we could look east and see Clark Valley and the Santa Rosa Mountains. Looking the other direction we could see the San Ysidro Mountains, and then, between us and the mountains, Coyote Creek, the creek along which Juan Bautista de Anza rode in 1774. Indeed, this trail offers immense historical overviews.

There is a register at the saddle forming the pass, which Nancy signed. The trail continues and we followed it down, realizing that we didn’t have time to invest in a hike that would require about seven more miles, for the day was growing late – and so we turned around. But there were compensation for the light was casting lovely shadows along the aforementioned mountains.

To some the blossoms of the ocotillo look like tiny torches.

Equally as important for my photographic ventures were the ocotillo, which seemed so vibrant. Light on the flowers was soft, something I generally can create only with artificial strobe lighting. Over the past few years I’ve posted several blogs on lighting with multiple strobes, and on the ocotillo plant, and how it blooms only following rain storms. Obviously, there has been much rain in recent months as the blossoms are now radiant.

TINY TORCHES

According to Lindsay it is this very radiance that might have given rise to their name. She quotes Mark Jorgensen, the former superintendent of Anza Borrego and an expert on sheep and desert ecology. Years ago I met the man and quoted him extensively in my book on Mountain Sheep.

Referring, however, to the ocotillo blossoms, Jorgensen says the Spanish/Mexican word ocote is a type of pine, which when lit explodes into a torch. Sometimes when the ocotillo is loaded with blossoms and the species is backlit you can easily make the association, for it appears as though the branches of the towering cacti are laden with tiny torches.

Lindsay also says Indians harvested the blooms and that the seeds made a flavored bitter-tasting drink.

Referring to the trail, Lindsay also says that the trail saved settlers six miles of trudging around the Coyote Mountains. If you were a settler, such as the Clark brothers or Cod Beaty on a mission to the local tavern in Borrego Springs, that could have been important. And so, as I made the final decent from Alcoholic Pass I was reminded that we’d soon have to make the momentous decision of whether there will or will not be a cocktail hour.

But why shouldn’t there be? I’m not one to make resolutions I can’t keep.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*By Their Beaks Shall Ye Know Them

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©Bert Gildart: “It was probably a little something like this,” said Bill Doyle, who has become a student of the years Marshal South, Tanya, and their three children spent atop Ghost Mountain in what is now Anza Borrego Desert State Park.   “Marshal,” continued Bill, “would step outside Yaquitepec (name for their home),  and sit on this very rock. He was trying to live off the land while developing a literary following. He hoped for peace in a chaotic world and he would contemplate his place in the universe. Some say he never found it,  but he gave it a good try. ”

"Let my house be a house of Love and Understanding... Let its roof be the arch of the sky and its music the songs of the birds and of the wind and of the harps of the rain."

Because of their lifestyle (also see: Brokeback Mountain or Ghost Mountain…) those in the surrounding communities criticized them. Sometimes the Souths went naked or they dressed in animal skins.

They built their home by hand and lived there from 1932 to 1947. To survive, they collected water in cisterns, collected plants, such as agave for food – just as did the Indians – and they penned their stories and their poems from this remote setting. Marshal in particular, wrote about desert life and desert survival, though in what may have been a romanticized manner.

IT WILL BE A GOOD YEAR

Later, Marshal added painting and pottery to his artistic repertoire.

As always, we cheer when we find that manifestations of their life remain, enough so, at any rate, to build on what we know. “I think it symbolic that we’re here the first of January,” said Bill, “for one of Marshal’s very first stories for Desert Life Magazine was made in January, January of 1940. He said that “the desert is full of mystery and surprise. No two years are ever they same… He wrote in his story that “It will be a good year.”

Bill, pointing to mark on the sun dial representing north at Yaquitepec, home of Marshal and Tanya South for 17 years.

Bill and I (Janie and I too) have both visited the home many times, but on this outing we were doing so late in the evening, hoping to create images that would recall a life that is fading and may be all too soon forgotten. We both thought that the deteriorating homestead back dropped by a sky full of stars would create the ephemeral image we thought appropriate, but because of an unexpected cloud layer, that was not to be.

Still, the evening turned out to be a splendid one, essentially because of the thoughts we shared about this controversial family, and because of the images we did make.

ERODING STRUCTURE

We began by making images of the eroding home, lamenting the fact that so much had deteriorated. We found the cisterns they used to collect water. We found the bed they’d shared for 17 years but looking sadly a bit more dilapidated than when we saw it a year ago.

Their lives as a couple ended with sadness, but for awhile, they had mastered their environment and had apparently enjoyed domestic harmony, for they had three children, conceived at Yaquitepec.

As we cast around we found the sun dial Marshal had erected, and with close scrutiny Bill thought he found a mark that represented north. “I think,” said Bill, “I know where north is.” Then, with his index finger, he pointed to a fading scratch that seemed aligned with north. Bill went on to say that from his reading he believed Marshal and Tanya had constructed their home so that the door  would face the southern sky, probably to draw in more winter sun.

Bill continued to walk around returning a few minutes later saying he thought he’d found Marshal’s kiln, and wanted to show it to me. Though primitive, the piled rocks could easily have accommodated a pot about the size of one the Indians might have used, adding to our convictions. As well, we found burned wood that now appeared like so much charcoal .

We both felt it appropriate to be reminiscing about the Souths first week in January 1940, a time Marshal recalled in one of his many articles for Desert Magazine with much optimism.

Agave, one of the plants used by Native Americans -- and by the Souths -- as a staple.

“It will be a good year,” wrote Marshal, saying that he was quoting Tanya.

DEER MICE

In his January article he also spoke of the coyotes, owls, the agave, and the tiny deer mice, which we soon heard scurrying all around. In his January entry, he wrote about the tiny creatures in a way I could appreciate for once I lived with them too, and knew they had an interesting life history. Wrote Marshal: “And the white-footed mice are always with us. There is something amiable and companionable about a white-footed mouse. Long experience with us has given them confidence. They slip in and out in the evenings like cheery little grey gnomes; squatting on the edge of the great adobe stone and nibbling tidbits…”

That was something I could relate to from my days years ago at Glacier National Park’s Cut Bank Ranger Station (probably one of the reasons I empathize with the couple), and as Bill and I sat on a rock at the South’s and listened quietly, we could hear the tiny microtids scampering around. Later, when the moon rose it provided adequate light  for us to see them. Quietly, they’d move, stopping every now, “while their big, beady black eyes watch us attentively,” as Marshal concluded. It was a condition I knew a little something about.

Eroding ruins of Yaquitepec, home of Marshal and Tanya South for 17 years.

Before long the sun dipped low in the mountains creating an incredible sunset (above), which I photographed through the arch that once served as the entry to their home. Adobe walls still stood, but the bed had collapsed. Though we stayed until it was pitch dark, and though the clouds did diffuse a bit, the skies never cleared adequately to create the type of night I wanted and had so successfully experimented with in Death Valley. No matter, for time spent atop Ghost Mountain in January bodes well, and we agreed, that our successful night might bode for “a good year.”

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Trailer Trash

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Hellhole Canyon trail leads to a palm oasis

©Bert Gildart: The last few days have seen the arrival of a number of our Airstream friends from various parts of the country. The last couple to show up were Don and Nancy of Vermont, who arrived late yesterday afternoon in a howling wind storm. Just prior to their arrival were Bill and Larry of San Diego; Alex and Charon, who pretty much full time in their 1966 Airstream; and finally, Rich, Eleanor and Emma. You’ve heard me speak often of Rich Luhr, who publishes Airstream Life Magazine.

All of us have descended on Anza Borrego Desert State Park for the obvious reason that it is warm, and because there are so many activities in which to engage in the winter.

And, so, it was only logical that those of us who could spare the time would strike out for a long hike along one of the park’s more spectacular trails, in this case Hellhole Canyon.

Mountain lions had been reported but that didn’t motivate us, rather it was the notion of seeing palm trees and perhaps even the blossoming of some of the desert’s very first flowers.  The hike didn’t disappoint.

WHAT’S IN A NAME

Then, too, we wanted to recall a bit about this canyon, which has an interesting history, both from the human perspective and perhaps, too, from the perspective of etymology.

As we all know, words evolve, and that is perhaps the reason this canyon goes by the name Hellhole, rather than as two words. Originally, you imagine some cowboy saying, “That canyon is sure one ‘hell’ of a ‘hole.’”

That could be what happened here. Years ago ranchers used the canyon as a reprieve from roaring winds that whipped off the surrounding mountains. The mountains also provided a respite from the heat and all went well until they had to retrieve their cattle from amidst the cholla, ocotillo, fishhook cactus, and beavertail cactus. No doubt, their impression deteriorated–and can’t you just hear an hear an old cowboy saying, “Man, that hole is sure hell on me and my hoss’.”

HELLHOLE

With time someone would recall again the potential conditions and say, “Got to go to Hell-hole today, the cattle are still there.” Eventually, the hyphen was dropped until the concept became a single thought as in, “Drive the cattle into Hellhole for the spring. We’ll hope they stay in that God-forsaken canyon and don’t wander down into Mexico.”

Palm Oasis means water, even if just a trickle. That's Charon on the far right.

Last night we appreciated a bit of what they were saying as winds gusted up to 40 miles per hour.  Our hike, however, was ideal, leaving me an image of a kinder and much more gentle canyon. Along the way we saw several of the huge-eared desert hares as well as the sign of coyotes, and probably a bobcat.

And then there was the oasis of palms and maidenhair fern, with the stream that flowed quietly through them, and we all concluded that on a hot summer day, this could be anything but a hellhole.

WHAT PROMPTS OCOTILLO TO BLOOM

As well, we found several ocotillo bushes and one was producing flowers that were in full bloom. Ocotillo is an interesting species, one that produces leaves only following rain. If subsequent rains don’t follow the first, the leaves curl and become dormant. However, if more rains follow, the plant produces flowers, such as the ones we stopped to admire yesterday.

Two strobe lights work best for closeup details of flowers. Ocotillo blossoms suggest a recent rain storm.

To dramatize the flowers I needed two strobes, which I always carry. I then set the  camera to manual mode, enabling me to overpower the light from the sun. To do that I set the shutter speed to 250th of a second and the aperture to f-22 or less.  Look through the view finder of your camera and you’ll see the dial (at least on the Nikon D300) shows an under exposure of about three stops. Without the strobes your picture would be mighty black, but the strobes are set correctly, and they illuminate the subject. However, you’ll need an additional set of hands to hold one of the strobes, which Bill volunteered to provide. The results from this technique never fall to impress me.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Hey, It’s a Gator

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©Bert Gildart: My wife has the lead photo in the current issue of MotorHome Magazine, a publication produced by the Affinity Group. The image reminds the two of us what a wonderful time we had about 10 months ago in Padre Island, located in south Texas.

Kakaying Pacifc waters of Padre Island, lead photo in MotorHome by Jane Gildart

In the winter, the park host hundreds of species of wintering birds, making it an ideal spot to vacation for those who enjoy watching birds. It is also, as Janie’s photo suggests, an ideal place to test – or to develop your skills as kayakers. The waters are warm, so if you dump, there’s little damage to anything other than your pride.

At the moment, as our last blog informs, we’re camped at Peg Leg, an area that offers free camping in Anza Borrego Desert State Park. We’re surrounded on three sides by mountains and this morning, a storm blowing in from the Pacific produced a series of rainbows. Janie peered out the window and pointed it out. Since I was up and dressed I was the one who grabbed a camera and ran out, setting up just as the rainbow appeared to be at its most intense.

Rainbow early this morning as seen from just outside our Airstream, Anza Borrego Desert State Park

Of course rainbows, though beautiful, are often harbingers of foul weather, and that is what it appears we’re about to get.

A good day to remain inside our Airstream and work on various indoor projects.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Family Fun In Glacier’s Winter Wonderland

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©Bert Gildart: Here in Grants, New Mexico, we’re discovering that at Blue Spruce Campground we’re meeting the salt of the earth, and learning that, as usual, virtually all are the nicest people in the world.  (Also read: Farmer’s Advice) In this case Janie met a “drifting rodeo cowboy,” and later related the story to me of her most  “intimate relationship,” which developed immediately.

NATURE NOTES: Scientist say porcupines don't hibernate, but you couldn't prove it by me. Tapping on the tree's trunk, this guy (which I photographed last week) didn't even lift his head.

Janie was washing clothes in the campground’s laundry when she overhead the conversation between the owner and the cowboy. The cowboy, whose name we later learned was James, was asking about campground rates, saying he was from Tennessee but would be returning in several months for an extended tour at the hospital and would be driving an RV.

“I’ve been doing a lot of stitching,” said the cowboy, to which the owner responded after sizing him up, “Oh, you mean on clothing?”

“No, responded,” Cowboy James. “In the ER.”

That’s when Janie piped in. “Are you a doctor?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “I’m a nurse… See,” he laughed, “I’ve got my knife right here.” He then asked why she wanted to know?

Janie then  told him about some recent surgery on her arm and how she needed to have the stitches removed. “You could do it yourself,” he said, and when Janie said “No way,” he said, “Well, I could do it.”

Next thing I knew Janie opened the door to our Airstream and introduced me to Cowboy James, who was attired in a bandanna, tall black hat, blue jeans, denim shirt, and down-at-the-heel boots.

“He’s going to take my stitches out,” exclaimed Janie. The cowboy then asked Janie if she had any rubbing alcohol, which we didn’t, so he said, “Mouth wash will work just fine.” Then he set out to work with a pair of  scissors from our kitchen drawer, informing Janie that if she fainted he’d give mouth to mouth resuscitation, but would first  have to take out his false teeth (lost in a rodeo) and his chaw of snuff.

“Can’t do that,” he said.

“Oh my god, “ said Janie, “I won’t faint.”

Cowboy James stayed around after removing the stitches and as our visit with him progressed we learned he tuned into some of the very same sources of entertainment that we did. He loved Baxter Black, whose humorous commentaries about western life can be heard each Saturday morning on Public Radio. James said he’d like to be Baxter Black. We exchanged cards and told him we hoped we’d see him again.

As I say, we meet the nicest people in trailer parks and my only regret is that I didn’t take a photo of him “at work.” With his long handle-bar mustache, Stetson hat and Tony Lama Boots he made quite a figure.  Most importantly,  he kept the residuals of snooce in his mouth the entire time he was in our Airstream.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Snowy Owls are Ghost of the North

*Plus — Global Warming and an animal that does hibernate, the marmot

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©Bert Gildart: Cold! That’s what much of this past week has been about, though we have nevertheless hiked through one of the nation’s best preserved series of ancient ruins, which are located at Chaco Canyon in New Mexico.

Various mansonery styles at Pueblo Bonito

Almost one week ago now to the day, we pulled our Airstream along a road that might best be described as one containing about 20 miles of continuous speed bumps. Some drivers departing Chaco choose to go “hell bent for leather,” but we value our tag-along-domicile, so put our Dodge in four-wheel-drive low, selected first gear and then crept the entire distance, taking almost two hours to navigate the road. It was worth the effort!

When we arrived our good friends, Sue and Eric Hansen, had already set up their camp. It was almost dark, but a full moon was rising, and it was illuminating our campground and an ancient pueblo, which formed part of our camping  atmosphere.  Soon a coyote began to howl. Certainly, this is a remote setting, and for the many people who’ve been trying to reach us, there is no communication here: no cell phone and no internet. Adding to the sense of remoteness has been the intense cold, which several days ago dipped to ten degrees below zero! Though the campground can accommodate dozens, we saw only one other couple – and they were tent campers!  But like us, we later learned, they, too, were anxious to explore this incredible park – and learn all they could despite the cold.

THE CHACO PHENOMENA

At Chaco Culture National Historical Park, located south of Farmington, New Mexico, North America’s most spectacular grouping of ruins rise from the landscape. From the many visits Janie and I have made here previously, we know that these incredible ruins have come to be known as the Chaco phenomena. Here at Chaco, a remarkable culture reached its zenith. But it didn’t happen overnight. Like other Hisatsinom (the term that has replaced the word Anasazi), Chacoans began their immense journey across the Four Corners living first in caves. With time, they learned they could shape the abundant stone and rock to their needs.

Click on above to see enlarged version and for extended captions

Initially, their structures were rudimentary. But beginning about 850 AD, these primordial people began to transform their moderate-sized structures into grand houses. Over the next 250 years, these ancients built dozens of great houses in and around Chaco Canyon. Some were so extraordinary that when the Spanish first saw them in the 1500’s, they endowed them with appellations such as Casa Grande and Pueblo Bonito—that “most elaborate of all ruins.”

EXPLORING BY HIKING

Possibly the best way to appreciate the sophistication of the Chacoan culture is to hike one of the park’s many trails. A many-storied trek departs from the parking lot near Kin Kletso ruin, and that is what Janie, Sue, Eric and I did. Among other things, the trail passes along an ancient road honed by Chacoans. Along the way the trail overlooks the Jackson Staircase, named for the famous photographer who documented the steps in the late 1800’s.

Once the steps provided Chacoans with access from the valley floor to the bench land overhead. Some of these roads were 30-feet wide and they led to many outliers spaced about a day’s walk apart. Incredibly, sections of these roads still exist, and their edges remain lined with rocks that Chacoans piled here 800 years ago—still telling their story!

PUEBLO BONITO

The trail also leads to an overlook that peers down onto Pueblo Bonito, meaning “house beautiful.” About 1200 A.D. Pueblo Bonito was the largest and grandest of them all, rising four or five stories and was honeycombed with more than 650 rooms and approximately 35 kivas.

What a sight it must have been to watch the day-to-day activities of the ancients applying their considerable masonry skills to the growing walls and family rooms. Each household, we’re told, consisted of a family of five to ten people, including children, parents and grandparents. Typically, room features incorporated a shallow fire pit, stone-lined hearths, pot rests, mealing bins, wall niches and elevated vents.

Janie descending from bench land and down onto canyon floor

Still, the most impressive feature of Pueblo Bonito remains the great kiva—a huge circular depression sunk in the ground and fortified by hand-hewn bricks.  As the sun descended and the oblique light intensified, glorifying the kiva, it was impossible not to appreciate Hisatsinom spirituality.

WHY DID THE ANCIENTS LEAVE?

Why, then, did the ancients leave?

There are many theories, and one suggests the resources had been overused. Yet another theory suggests that there was evidence of eliticism, for some rooms within these ruins preserve only the remains of great chiefs (for lack of a better term), and some of the rocks suggest they secured this eternal rest forcefully. Perhaps with time we’ll learn more. Still, I like this theory as there is relevancy to today’s society, which I think is deteriorating. Perhaps their society had produced too many Bernie Madoffs and too many Kenneth Lays.

Again, this is a theory, but then history does tend to repeat itself. Regardless, for some reason, the culture began to decline.  And so, about 1300 A.D. Chacoans drifted toward Mesa Verde, where another Hisatsinom culture had evolved. But the migration of Chacoans there was followed by a period of severe and wide-spread drought, and so the Hisatsinom culture as a whole began to erode. Once again, The People wandered, returning to their beginnings as a cave-dwelling people. Yet others may have been absorbed by groups now calling themselves the Hopi,  Navajo and the Pueblo dwellers. With time, we may know more, for archaeologists are developing new investigative techniques.

In fact, interpreters may already know more, but because the cold has persisted we had to leave. Night before, the continuous cold diminished the capacity of our batteries, and we had run out of gas for our generator, never anticipating we’d have to use it so much. Our batteries were in fact so depleted that at three in the morning, Janie and I woke up learning that it was below zero and that we had no heat. That night some water in our lines froze and we could not even use the electric trailer jack to raise the tongue onto the truck.

STATE OF EMERGENCY

We declared an emergency and one park ranger (previously another ranger denied our request) very graciously gave us a gallon of gas to run our generator. I left a $5.00 donation, returned to the campground and started the generator, which powered up our system and enabled us to thaw everything out and then hook up. Apparently we caught things soon enough as there does not appear to be any damage.

Click on Above to see enlarged version and to read extended caption

Soon we were on our way and are now camped in a commercial establishment in Grants/Cibola, New Mexico.  We have electricity and are toasty warm. We intend to remain here for several days and catch up, meaning I’ll be writing a few more stories about Chaco – and some other things we learned. We’ve also sold lots of photographs mailed from home to magazines prior to departing so I must also send out invoices.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Channel Islands NP Boasts Success Stories

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Bert Gildart: About five years ago, Janie and I completed a Falcon Guide book for Dinosaur National Park. At first, the book sold well, but then the park had to close the Quarry Center because of a bad foundation. Recently Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar announced a $13.1 million investment to demolish and replace condemned portions of the Quarry Visitor Center, and they now anticipate a reopening by summer of 2011.

CLICK ON EACH IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION AND FOR EXTENDED CAPTION

That sounds like a long way away, but not if you want to float one of the monument’s two famous rivers, the Green and the Yampa, for reservations must be made well in advance. In fact, river boat explorations are one of the major reasons to visit the park, but there’s lots more, to include visiting the park’s major petroglyph sites and hiking all the wonderful trails. What’s more, you can still see dinosaur remains in a temporary museum. In other words you can see and do everything this wonderful monument offers, though granted right now you can more fully experience the rivers.

As part of our research for the guide books, we floated them both. On our own, we floated the Green – that was an adventure. The other, the Yampa, we floated with Hatch Expeditions. If you want to float these rivers, you need to begin making plans now, and to give you a sense of some of the excitement we experienced, here is an excerpt from our book, and it took place just below the Gates of Lodor through the exact same section where John Wesley Powell lost his boat. The famous one-armed Civil War survivor was on a survey mission for the government.

FROM OUR BOOK

…Half an hour later we realized we could procrastinate no longer. We shoved our 14-foot raft into the river—and almost instantly were locked in the river’s brawn.

I wish before we had departed home that I had done more push-ups or lifted more weights. Or that my last rafting experience had not been several years ago. What followed was a series of mistakes executed with precision that were a marvel to behold. In fact, you can use my performance as an example of what you should not do.

Immediately, we broadsided the same rock the ranger (he’d just proceeded us) had so easily shipped. Then, as I attempted to push off with the oar, the boat shot forward knocking the oar from my hand and into the water. You should never allow that to happen.

CLICK ON EACH IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION AND FOR EXTENDED CAPTION

Just before the oar shot past the boat’s bow, Janie managed to reach out and snatch it from a watery fate. Thrusting it toward me I desperately returned the oar pin to its lock. But during those few moments we had paid a price, for now the boat careened—utterly out of control.

Ultimately, the fates waxed kindly, but not without first presenting a series of challenges. Although I had committed two major blunders in rapid succession, I recovered and had the finesse to pull with my left arm and push with my right just as we slammed onto yet another rock, my actions whipping the raft from that rock and back into the current, which immediately thrust us onto yet another rock.

And now, our raft had begun to fill with water.

WE’D BECOME ONE WITH THE WATER

Our boat is a bucket boat—one that you must bail yourself—and Janie attempted to do just that. But we were floating through powerful waves and our descent down this maelstrom was less than ideal. More water swallowed our boat until we were almost bathing in it. But though we were now in the midst of Upper Disaster, we actually wallowed through—certainly not with grace or dignity—but rather because we had become as one with the water!

Beautiful Echo Park, once a rallying cry for conservationists.

Four days later we completed our float down the Green, but decided we’d leave our float down the Yampa to the professionals, and so we joined up with Hatch Expeditions.  They made it all seem easy.

THIS REMOTE PARK HAS IT ALL

Should you decided you want to see this incredible park that links two states, that contains incredible geology, petroglyphs, wonderful camping and bewildering rivers, one of which John Wesley Powell once floated, we can make it easy. Dinosaur is one of those remote and much overlooked parks and you can still see the park’s dinosaur collection. You can buy Exploring Dinosaur by contacting us. Or you can purchase it through either Amazon or through Falcon. Either way, we’ll appreciate your business.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Lessons From Cades Cove

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"Sometimes," said Eliot Porter, "you can tell a large story with a tiny subject."

©Bert Gildart: Often good photography requires the paring down of an immense landscape to something that has fewer elements, and that’s what I often try and do when I enter a place as beautiful as Glacier National Park’s Many Glacier Valley.

Contrary to what many say as part joke, you just can’t point your camera in any direction and shoot – even in a place as lovely as this mountainous valley. Instead you have to select and isolate, and do so critically. The famous photographer, Eliot Porter expressed my theme particularly well: “Sometimes,” said Porter, “you can tell a large story with a tiny subject.”

With those thoughts in mind, there’s an old snag about a mile or so from the Many Glacier Campground that I always stop to examine. It’s been there for a long time and provides cavity nesting birds with a home, and is another special component of a wild Glacier National Park.

On our trip of about 10 days ago, I again stopped as we entered, and found the old snag interesting — much potential, but in ways difficult to anticipate. However, those ways revealed themselves over the course of two days, for the lighting changed dramatically and did so in ways that can only be described as magnificent.

TIMING CRITICAL

The above scene is an early morning one, made just as the sun was rising. Timing was critical – for five minutes later the glow on the peaks behind the snag diminished. And then, a snow squall followed.

The second image was made again in the early morning (the next morning, in fact), but following a storm containing a mixture of rain and snow. The rainbow was associated with the storm and became one of the most magnificent I’d ever seen. I felt privileged to be there at that precise moment and recalled a quote from Ansel Adams:

“Sometimes,” he said, “I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.”

That’s exactly the way I felt last week, for the setting lasted but a few moments, but before the rainbow’s time on this primordial stage concluded, it expanded into a complete arc. But the arc also embraced man-made structures so lost some of its wilderness drama. As a result, I didn’t feel as though it measured up to what either Porter or Adams might have sought.

In both cases, the foreground consisted of the same old snag, but in the case of the rainbow, I chose a different location for this image so as provide a better arrangement for the two elements. (”A good photograph,” said Adams, “is knowing where to stand.”)

Ansel Adams believed that he often got to places "just when God is ready to have somebody click the shutter."

Together, I think the images make a nice statement and show the benefits of returning to the same setting time after time – in this case to an old snag – dead now for many years. You’ll find the gnarled trunk with its up thrust arms in the Many Glacier Valley of Glacier National Park, and I’m always surprised to see what “a huge story this tiny subject can often tell.”

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Valley Forge

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Shelter, plus food and water are required to sustain life.

©Bert Gildart: Long ago in a wildlife management course, I learned that all life has three basic needs. It must have food, water and shelter.

In Canada’s Jasper National Park, for some species, these needs are met, but not without some difficulty.

To acquire the much-needed water bighorn sheep must wade through a maze of traffic, and it is to the credit of the majority of drivers that most of the animals survive.

As we watched, virtually all motorist slowed down, even the huge truckers. In fact, one stopped and moved clear off the road while the herd crossed. That’s probably something you don’t often see.

TRIP’S END

Our fabulous trip to Alaska has ended and though we’re off the Alcan, the drive from Jasper and Banff back to Montana is often one of the most rewarding.

Last year, about three weeks later, we were here when the elk were deep into the rut. Right now, Canadian campgrounds are still filling, but with children back in school, that will soon taper off, leaving only the more dedicated nature lovers.

However, we’re anxious now that we are back home to sort everything out. I have a number of stories I must soon complete for various magazines, and the front end of our Dodge is making a ticking sound, which could well be the U-joints.

Our Airstream seems to have weathered the drive, but we’re anxious to give it a major cleaning. As well, the left hand side of our sofa, which I use in combination with the swing-up table as an office, has lost its elasticity. The local furniture shop says they can replace the springs.

Threading traffic after satisfying need for water, sheep hope to safely return and find cover, one of the other two basic needs needed to sustain life.

In several weeks we’ll also be checking out fall colors in Glacier National Park, pulling our Airstream to the park’s east side. From all reports, this could be a banner year.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Bay of Fundy — World’s Most Extreme  Tides

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©Bert Gildart: All across the wetlands of eastern Montana, the American Avocet has returned, has laid its eggs and is ushering its young into the world. These are colorful birds and you will recognize them the moment you see them.

Colorful Avocet has returned to Montana's prairie wetlands.

Because they are wading birds, they have long, thin gray legs, which give the species its colloquial name, “blue shanks.” Plumage is black and white on the back with white on the underbelly. But setting it off in the summer is the bird’s orange-colored head.

The other conspicuous feature is the long, thin bill which is upturned at the end. This feature helps the avocet locate food, something that is fascinating to watch and which I have seen often. Inserting beaks into the marsh, the avocet will stir the water, creating as they do a mini cyclone effect which draws aquatic insects up from the bottom.

PRECOCIAL YOUNG

Unlike the pelican of several posts ago, young of this species are fully capable of foraging for themselves shortly after hatching. Such birds are referred to as precocial.

Avocet young are precocial, meaning they are completley mobile shortly after hatching.

Pelican young, on the other hand, are helpless when hatched and require weeks of care before they can fend for themselves. Such birds are referred to as altricial.

Like the pelican, avocet nests on open ground, often in small groups, sometimes with other waders. A pair will rear one brood per season, with both male and female providing parental care for the young.

Because summers on the prairie can be so short, the time to enjoy this species in now, for all too soon, it will head south, taking with it that colorful splash of orange that helps add color to a setting that might otherwise be quite drab.

PHOTO TECHNIQUES

These photographs could not have been made without the use of a photographic blind. I made these photos several years ago at the Bowdoin National Wildlife Refuge over a period of a couple of days.

First I erected the movable blind some distance from the nesting pair, and then gradually inched forward until I was close enough for the birds to fill the viewfinder of my Hasselblad camera and the 500mm lens I was using at the time. Later, the images were used for a book I wrote on Montana Wildlife, used by several professors for their classes in wildlife management at local universities. Images such as these continue to sell through several photo agents who market my work.

NEWS NOTES:

About five more days until departure for Alaska, which will take us along the world-famous Alcan Highway. We’ll be providing extensive coverage. Obviously we’re excited and have made plans to see many of our Native friends. While there I’ll be covering the World Eskimo Indian Olympics. As well, we’ll be hiking the Chilkoot Pass.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Kayaking Can Extend RV Adventures

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©Bert Gildart: Several days ago Sen. Lisa Murkowski’s Arctic Refuge drilling amendment (the so-called “Directional Drilling” bill) was voted down, 13 to 10.  This bill, according to an Arctic Action news release, “would have cracked open the Arctic Refuge coastal plain to oil leasing and development and undermined the fundamental purposes of the refuge to preserve wilderness and wildlife.”  (For my stories on the refuge see: ANWR1, Mendacity, Role of Sarah James)

Sen. John McCain sustained his long-time support of keeping the Arctic Refuge a true Refuge!

Arctic Refuge provides cotton grass--an essential food for caribou. This photo purchased from me for display at a Denali Visitor Center.

Obviously, there was a debate, at which time Sen. Murkowski insisted that there would be “no impacts” within the Refuge. Although she mentioned there would be winter seismic exploration, she failed to note that it would harm critical and threatened polar bear habitat.

We’re glad the refuge will remain a refuge.

PLEASE PROVIDE YOUR THANKS

Please join us in thanking these Senators who voted to keep the Arctic Refuge wild and free of drill rigs:

Chairman Jeff Bingamen (D-NM), Sen. Byron Dorgan (D-ND), Sen. Ron Wyden (D-OR), Sen. Time Johnson (D-SD), Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-WA), Sen. Robert Mendendez (D-NJ), Sen. Blanche Lincoln (D-AR), Sen. Bernard Sanders (I-VT), Sen. Evan Bayh (D-IN), Sen. Debbie Stabenow (D-MI), Sen. Mark Udall (D-CO), Sen. Jeanne Shaheen (D-NH), and Sen. John McCain (R-AZ).

You can find their web form for e-mails here:

http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*So You Rolled a Kayak

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©Bert Gildart: Pelicans in Montana? You betcha, and though not as abundant as the brown pelicans of Florida, still huge colonies of adult white pelicans seek out Montana, migrating from distant places in the South as well as from Mexico. In fact, they’re here right now, and they’re taking care of their young.

Most, but not all young pelicans have hatched, and when they do, they are helpless. An ornithologist would term this type of condition altricial, as opposed to those born perfectly capable of fending (at least somewhat) for themselves–or precocial. They need protection from predators and that’s one of the reasons adult white pelicans seek out specific types of islands, and those islands are found only in the vast prairies of western North America. Some of the best are found in Montana.

FLAT TREELESS ISLANDS

Adult white pelicans seek small isolated islands that are flat, devoid of vegetation and that are surrounded by large bodies of water. What they need is isolation from coyotes, foxes, raccoon and other similar types of predators.

In Montana, there are but few remaining and most are all found on national wildlife refuges, such as Bowdoin. There is also a huge colony on the Molly Islands in a remote region of Yellowstone Lake in Yellowstone National Park.

Deep inside the gular pouch a young pelican takes a big gulp of food brought back by one of its parents.

Conditions such as just describe are mandatory for the survival of pelican young, which are born naked, incapable of foraging for themselves, and certainly not capable of protecting themselves through flight. By contrasts, precocial birds, such as the avocet, are pretty much capable of taking care of themselves. When hatched, they have feathers and are born with their eyes open–or soon to be opened.

BIG GULP

If you could visit one of these islands what you’d see is pretty much depicted in the accompanying photograph, i.e., a huge colony of white pelicans. And scattered here and there you’d see young pelicans trying to suck out food from the adult’s gular pouch. In other words, you’d see these young birds trying to nourish by inserting their heads as far into the parent’s throat as it will allow.

In other words, you’d see them trying to take the big gulp.

PHOTO TECHNIQUES

Photo taken on remote island in eastern Montana from inside a blind and over a several day period of time. Much waiting involved as well as the use of a long telephoto lens (600mm). Long lenses necessary to eliminate stress on birds. It’s also necessary to arrive early in the day and depart late, again, so as to reduce stress on birds.

NEWS NOTES:

About 11 more days until departure for the ALCAN (Alaska-Canada Highway) which will take us to Fairbanks in our Airstream. Upon arrival we’ll be covering a number of events to include the World Eskimo Indian Olympics.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*No Table Manners Among Turkey Vultures

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©Bert Gildart: If you travel much, more then likely you have encountered situations in which you wondered about your safety. That happened to Janie and me while traveling near Duluth, Minnesota, several weeks ago. The ugliness of the situation prompted us to think about the circumstances that would force us to take measures to protect ourselves. At our disposal is Bear Spray and sometimes a firearm, but when would we have been justified using one or the other–or perhaps even both?

Because so many people we meet in RVs do carry some means of protecting themselves, it’s something you may want to really think about, playing out various scenarios. I think the subject is important and  contacted several RV owners and asked for their opinion, which will be the focus of an upcoming post. As well, I will be posting a Case Incident Report from my notes in my files used to generate the report while working in Glacier as a seasonal park ranger in the 1980s. The report recalls an episode that turned violent.

All this will be included in a three-part series, and the other two will follow on Wednesday and Friday. This is the first.

It is worth mentioning that in all my years, I’ve been concerned about life and limb very few times. Still, I believe everyone who travels should have a plan for those times when potential disaster rears its head.

Violence in national, state and city parks is highly unusual, but does occur, as Janie and I know. For us, it seems to rear its head in off seasons, and in isolated places

Here’s our situation: Several weeks ago, we were in a campground and about noon several fellows walked in and set up a tent and soon started drinking hard liquor. One of the fellows seemed friendly, so I wandered over and told him that if they were planning a party, we’d move, no problem but we just wanted to know. Certainly, we didn’t want to move as we were ideally located for launching our kayaks for a photo shoot. So when the fellow said they planned a quiet evening so they could start work the next day, I was relieved. However, that’s not the way the afternoon unfolded.

DRUG PUSHERS?

By the time we returned from our outing, two of the fellows were falling-down drunk, literally. In fact, one fellow walked over to the edge of the bushes collapsed, then had to be dragged back to the tent. To compound matters, several other young men had joined the first three and as Janie said, “They look like jail bait.” Looking at the men with their long unkempt hair, tattoos, ear rings, I had to agree. In fact, they looked like drug pushers.

To make matters worse, one of the new fellows stomped over and said, “I understand you don’t like us and might want to move. Well you don’t have to! I’m just back from Afghanistan and I’ll protect you.”

The fellow looked fit and was wearing a jacket emblazoned on the front with the word Marine, so perhaps the situation was as he said. Still, among the group he appeared to be the most aggressive; the rest seemed on the verge of passing out, and several, in fact, had.

Moving, of course, might have been the best thing, but the campground was small and in reality, we would not have been much further away. And who knew what demons possessed the fellow and might then have prompted him to follow us.

PLAN OF ACTION

What I did do was tell one of the fellows we were leaving in the morning and then loaded up, ready to leave if things deteriorated. We retired to the interior of our camper and took measure to protect ourselves. Simultaneously we thought of the various scenarios that would prompt some type of response. And we thought, too, of the types of responses we could make.

Once I might have considered a physical response. Years ago I was Alabama State Runner up in the middle weight boxing division of the Golden Gloves, and have kept myself in good shape. That means I could probably emerge victorious in a fight with someone about my size who is 68, has a bad back, a bad rotator cuff, and can no longer close his hands to make a fist because of arthritis. Give me that kind of enemy combatant and, by George, I’d consider forcing the bastard’s hand.

But now I’m older and hopefully wiser; wise enough at any rate to consider other plans of action. Here’s what we came up with.

First, if someone came over and banged on the door, we concluded we’d remain inside and tell him to go away. If the banging persisted, we’d call 911. If the intruder damaged our trailer (and only we Airstreamers know how protective we can get) I believe I would have confronted the fellow with Bear Spray, a formula that has been used effectively against enraged grizzly bears.

Of course nothing ever turns out the way you plan, and there were, of course, many other scenarios, not all concluding satisfactorily.

Fortunately, all turned out well. The men passed out early, and then next morning, one staggered over and said he wanted to apologize if they’d kept us awake. The Marine smiled and told us he was a Crow Indian and that he’d be heading back to service in several weeks. Though the sun had just barely risen, all had already started drinking, and now it was straight booze. Quietly, we pulled out.

WHEN ARE AGGRESSIVE MEASURES JUSTIFIED?

This is not the first time we’ve had to think about various scenarios. Once in Glacier National Park, late in the fall, someone broke into our old Jayco travel trailer and stole enough so our insurance company reimbursed us to the tune of $1,700. What might we have done if we’d returned and caught them?  What should we have done? (Tune in Friday.) You can’t be paranoid, and we don’t deliberately place ourselves in marginal situations. We enjoy our privacy and think the best plan is one of preparation.

What I’m really getting at, I suppose, is under what circumstances is action justified? Diplomacy is best, but there may be times when it simply won’t work.

I believe everyone needs to spend a little time thinking about a plan of action and then rehearse it so that you will in fact know what you will do. Because my plan of action might not be the best, I contacted several others and will post some of their thoughts this Friday. This Wednesday I’ll post a case incident report from my experiences as a ranger in Glacier. It was an ugly situation and resulted because the men from the fist fight that resulted were living on the fringe–much like the fellows from Monday’s post were doing.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Springtime in Glacier National Park

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Korean War Memorial

©Bert Gildart: Memorial Day Weekend, and Arlington National Cemetery is much on my mind as we honor our war heroes. I think about Washington D.C. and Arlington because it is where several of my relatives are now buried.

Such memories become more significant as I get a little older and history takes on a new meaning; hence three years ago I attempted to locate (again) the grave of a family member buried in Arlington. At the time I was on a business trip, intending to learn more about our nation’s Capital Parks, and Arlington was one of them.

TOMBS FOR THE BRAVE

As a group the war memorials in D.C. celebrate the valor of our American soldiers. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial honors the men and women who served in one of America’s most divisive wars. Inscribed on the Wall are the names of 58,000 men and woman who were killed or remain missing.

The newest of the memorials is the World War II Memorial, which honors the 16 million who served in the armed forces of the U.S., and the 400,000-plus who died in that war. It is the only 20th Century event commemorated on the “central axis” of the National Mall, and President Clinton dedicated the memorial site on Veterans Day 1995.

NIGHT CREATES AURA OF ETERNAL VIGILANCE

Night is a particularly good time to visit the WW II Memorial, for night lights and refracting ponds create an aura of eternal vigilance. Take a tripod if you want night photos, but you’ll need more if you want to walk within range of the Capitol building. Because heightened security since 9/11 looks askance at long pointed objects, you’ll need a special permit, but if you ask a park policeman he or she will tell you how and where to obtain one.

Lincoln Memorial

You can, however, tote a tripod to the Lincoln Memorial and this is one that photographs particularly well at night. Lincoln, of course, was President during the Civil War and he is backdropped by the Gettysburg Address. Certain aspects of the Korean War Memorial also photograph well at night-such as the haunted looks in the eyes of the soldiers–above.

Women In War

Arlington must be visited during the day and finding my grandfather’s grave amidst the 290,000 servicemen (7,000 new graves each year) could have been a daunting task had it not been for the easily accessible computerized records. To locate a relative, all that’s required is a stop at the desk immediately to your right as you enter the Visitor Center. Then, they’ll want a little information.

FINDING A RELATIVE’S GRAVE

They’ll want to know your relative’s legal name and his or her date of death. Such information also entitles you to a special pass with a “numbered” address that will allow you to drive to your relative’s grave.

Though my grandfather’s site was more than a mile away I chose to walk, passing as I did by the grave of John F. Kennedy with its massive memorial and its eternal flame. I passed, too, the grave of Audie Murphy, our most decorated WWII soldier, and a man who later became a movie icon of the ‘50s and ‘60s.

I stopped by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where the changing of the guard was in progress. The precision of their moves spoke of strength, coordination and infinite practice.

ON A PERSONAL NOTE

Two hours later, I arrived at my grandfather’s grave, who died in France shortly after Germany surrendered. He had survived the war only to die in 1919 from the pandemic flu, leaving behind two sons, age four and one. Though they were young, his death so impacted them that both chose military careers. In turn their lives affected me, and though I never followed my dad’s path , I remain in tune with much that is military.

Changing Of the Guard, Arlington Cemetery

You and I may or may not agree with the policies of our administration, but that has little to do with the appreciation we should demonstrate for the sacrifices our brave soldiers made in the past and are making today. On a very personal note, my father was at Pearl Harbor when it was bombed and he later fought at Guadal Canal. Little wonder, I suppose, Military Parks hold such fascination for me, and little wonder I suppose that I respect all Memorial Day has come to represent. My father and mother are buried at West Point, and so are Janie’s.

Today, if I were in D.C., I’d make another pilgrimage to Arlington Cemetery and lay flowers on my grandfather’s grave. But since I’m not, Janie and I will do as we do most Memorial Days: we’ll post a small flag and allow it to remind us of the 2,757,196 men and woman who have given their lives for America.

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Two Years Ago at This Time:

*Bison Range Celebrates 100 Years

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