©Bert Gildart: In the southwestern most part of the United States, there is a stretch of beach fed by the Tijuana River that empties into the Pacific Ocean.  San Diego is situated toward one end of the beach while an International fence separating Mexico from the USA is situated at the other.  To prevent illegal immigration one can see as he or she walks the beach several 4-wheel drive American Border Patrol vehicles whose drivers seems to monitor our every move. Helicopters fly overhead and the sound of their engines dominates the landscape.  It’s a wild scene further dramatized by the overwhelming presence of the Pasa del Toro, a bull fighting ring that is part of Tijuana, Mexico and that seems to glare as one hikes the beach.

International fence separating Mexico from the U.S. On one side Mexican bathers enjoy surf while on the other Least Terns bask in protection afforded them by Border Field State Park

But there is also a different view one takes from the setting, a more natural one.  Overhead, squadrons of brown pelicans wheel in a clear blue sky, while along the shoreline dozens of birds brave powerful ocean waves.  All the birds time their forays into the tidal zone – hoping their efforts will return an assortment of insects, worms, and crustaceans – before powerful waves engulf them. Included in this group are dozens of sanderlings, who scurry just ahead of waves that are measured not only in power but in miles.  When the sanderlings sense a breaker’s approach they accelerate their tiny  bodies on twig-like legs that are simply a blur. In this manner they escape what could be a watery fate.

The contrast between the artifacts of urbanization and the residuals of a wild America is intense, and in this setting it is preserved by Border Field State Park.  But as I walk the beach I’m not sure just how closely I can approach the huge fence that separates the two countries.  Nor am I sure what kind of a reaction Border Patrol agents will have when I erect my tripod and unpack my long 600mm lens.  I don’t want them to mistake my caisson-appearing lens for a weapon, so I carefully tilt the setup in their direction.

L to R: Back dropped by San Diego, Don and Nancy Dennis stroll along the beach celebrated at  Border Field State Park; sanderlings  race ahead of pounding surf; “Tony”, a Mexican/American
horseman strikes out for recreational ride along beach — pointing toward Tijuana and international fence.

But not to worry, and I begin my passion of photography, trying to capture all the bird life that seems to huddle near the American side of the international fence.  Near its base, undisturbed by Mexican bathers on the other side, rests a flock of Least Terns, which add to my tally of shore-dwelling birds.

The setting overwhelms me and I am simply amazed that this city of sour mesh graffiti, navy bases, and expansive bridges – all used by some 1.5 million people – can preserve such wildness.  But it is one of the awakenings Janie and I have enjoyed as we have explored what I call the wild side (to include the famous zoo) of San Diego.

Willets bask in sun in wake of pounding surf

We hike on, waving at the folks on the Mexican side, and now at the men in their patrol cars.  As well, we tally our San Diego bird list, concluding that it now numbers close to 30.

This day is simply a continuation of the wonders we’ve enjoyed as we’ve learned more about all that is protected by some of this city’s far-seeing fathers.  In some ways this may be a form of “Noblesse oblige” — but I am starting to understand the compelling mandate, for San Diego is said to be home to the greatest diversity of wildlife found anywhere in the continental U.S.

Again, we walk on, continuing with our explorations.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS ONE YEAR AGO:

*Montezuma Well

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BOOKS FOR SALE:

©Bert Gildart:  Four years ago Janie and I made an extensive trip through Florida, stopping for weeks at wildlife sanctuaries to include Big Cypress, the Everglades – and the Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, the latter of which is located on Sanibel Island.  Here, we found the subject of my most recent posting, a Black Crowned Night Heron.

Black-crowned Night Heron stalking the marshland of Florida's Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge on Sanibel Island.

Because several readers have said they are not familiar with the species I thought I’d post a few images of a mature Night Heron – those which I took in Florida, mostly at Ding Darling.  Those from my last posting were made just a few days ago, almost adjacent to our camp here in California’s Borrego Springs.

Wildlife refuges provide a safe haven for their inhabitants, and as a result animals become somewhat acclimated to the presence of people, but that doesn’t mean you can approach with impunity.  Nor does it mean that the more docile creatures will completely ignore your encroachment.  Endless patience is required to convince skittish birds that you mean them no harm and that’s necessary, of course, to create good images.

L to R:  Juvenile Black-crowned Night Heron; adult Night Heron; adult Night Heron, illustrating that head is not entirely a “black  crown.”

As far as photography is concerned I used essentially the same set up I did several days ago to photograph my immature Night Heron, and that was a 600mm lens with a full-frame Nikon camera.  Like my picture of the other day these images are but little modified from the way they were first recorded.

Looking now at the images shown here, specifically the one I have labeled as an immature Night Heron, and I’m sure we’ve identified the individual correctly.  The main difference is that my Night Heron images made here at Borrego shown an individual who is losing the stripped appearance common to extremely young birds.  I suspect that the one here at Borrego will soon begin to acquire adult coloration which includes the black crown.

Images from our Florida adventure have all been published either to accompany stories I’ve written – or to illustrate concepts in various outdoor publications.  I find much satisfaction in this work and hope these pictures provide some pleasure for those who follow our blogs and my stories. I also hope these images inspire an appreciation for our natural world, which is diminishing at a rate that is alarming.

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THIS TIME FIVE YEARS AGO:

*The Dry Tortugas

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BOOKS FOR SALE:

©Bert Gildart:  Two days ago I rode my bicycle along Organ Pipe’s National Monuments Ajo Mountain loop road.  It is a 21-mile long gravel road, and though vehicular traffic is permitted, at this time of year it is sparse.  During my entire ride I saw less than a dozen cars.

Ajo Mountain

But the point is that the silence was intense, and there are few other places Janie and I have visited where we could stop and say, “Listen!  What do you hear?”  The answer was nothing.  Absolutely nothing; and that is an observation we’ve been able to make in but few other settings.

Glacier National Park is one, and so is the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.  But there was yet more about this isolated area of the park that thrilled me:  It is the heart of the Sonoran Desert, and though Janie has seen it before, we decided yesterday that we’d travel it again, but this time with lots of camera gear.  As a result, I am now able to post these images, and with them some thoughts about why I took them.

L TO R:  All images show organ pipe, but the last two in this row show a bizarre structure biologists call a “cristates.”

Appropriately, the first picture summarizes the drive.  It is, after all, the Ajo Mountain Drive so the top image portrays Ajo Mountain.  Just beyond the mountain is the Tohono O’odham Indian Reservation, and once members of the tribe made a living from the lands setting up ramadas near water sources, such as seen in another image.  The park interprets their tenure in the park with the construction of a ramada set up on a bank overlooking Diablo Wash.  Nearby, lands are ideal for the growth of both the saguaro and the organ pipe, both of which the O’odham harvested.  Using the woody ribs of dead saguaros to create a tool they called a kupit, the tribe plucked fruit from the spiny columns and arms of the Sonoran’s two most conspicuous species those being, of course, the organ pipe and the saguaro.

Though the two trees share a similar environment, they begin life differently.  Saguaro begins in the shade of a palo verde — or in the shade of one of the other “bean plants” that grows here, such as the mesquite.  But not so the organ pipe, which requires more heat, and sometimes that comes from an association with volcanic rock.

Also of interest is the fact the organ pipe (and the saguaro) sometimes produces a bizarre formation called a crest, and on the day of my bike ride a group of Canadians pointed out the structure to me.  In turn, I wanted Janie to see it, and I needed her to hold one of the strobe lights necessary to eliminate harsh shadows.  I wanted her “to hear” the silence.

L to R:  Ramada overlooking Diablo Wash; new (the yellow) arms emerging from organ pipe; close up of cristates.

Cristates is another name used to describe the unusual growth patterns and though the shape is common, scientists are at a loss to explain their existence.  Some, according to a park brochure, say the growth results from genetics.  Others believe it could be frost while yet others say the pattern results from imbalance in growth hormones.  Though there is much to be said for understanding, there’s also much to be said for aesthetics, and the organ pipe with all of its shapes and peculiarities satisfies the complex issue of simple beauty.

My last images show the beginning of new arms on an organ pipe.  Again, these structures add to the paragon of the Sonoran, and that status along with the silence Janie and I experienced on this my second tour has elevated Organ Pipe to a place of simple quiet beauty that should not be missed.

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THIS TIME SIX  YEARS AGO:

*Airstream Camper Tips from Organ Pipe

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BOOKS FOR SALE:

©Bert Gildart: On December 20, 1775, Juan Bautista de Anza led 240 Sonoran colonists through the same valley that Don Dennis, Adam Maffei and I toured several days ago by mountain bike. Because the valley remains under the control of California’s Anza Borrego State Park, little about the area has changed.

Although you can drive a high clearance vehicle along the rutted road, the valley can best be accessed by biking.  Thick sand, of course, presents its challenges and at times we had to dismount to walk our bikes.  But the rewards (Biking Fanatic) were substantial, for our explorations provided great insights into the struggles de Anza confronted.

Back dropped by Coyote Mountain, we cycled through streams

The valley is cut by Coyote Creek and flanked to the east by the Coyote Mountains and to the west by the San Ysidro Mountains. Last year Don and I (after two tries, one, two) climbed Coyote Mountain, so the prominent peak grabbed our attention and made for much reminiscing.

But it was the valley floor that sustained our attention.  We came to a trailhead sign pointing to Alcoholic Pass, named according to a guide book for the switchback-ish nature of the trail.

Next, we came to an area our map referred to as the Desert Gardens. We spent a few minutes hiking around–taking photographs–not only because of the garden’s beauty but because it had once been the home to a group of Native Americans known as Cahuilla.

CANYON CALLED HOME

“A Canyon Called Home,” began an interpretive panel. “People,” the sign continued, “raised families in Coyote Canyon… With sheltered canyons and year around running streams, Coyote Canyon was the perfect place to call home.”

From the gardens we rode another mile, stopping shortly after crossing a stream near another interpretive panel. This one further described the hardships of de Anza’s expedition, explaining that Gertrudis Rivas Linares gave birth to a son, Salvador, on Christmas day. “Next day she mounted a horse for the journey north.”

Don, Adam and I cycled yet about another mile, eventually reaching a point at which the road became quite rocky.  Here, we turned around and retraced our route, taking about another hour to return to our camp.  Our odometers said we had ridden about 12 miles and over half of those miles were through sand.  We concluded that our day of biking with history had been challenging, but that it had also been extremely satisfying.

We vowed that someday soon we’d repeat our ride.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR

*Year of the Dragon

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©Bert  Gildart:  In about a month (February 5 to February 10), Janie and I will be camped at Lazy Days RV Resort in Tucson, AZ, where I will be giving presentations on photography at an Airstream gathering.  At the moment we’re in Anza Borrego.

Grand Canyon

During the gathering I’ll provide an hour-long digital slide show and that will be followed on subsequent days with several instructional photo walks.

My slide show will attempt to inspire the photo talents of those with Airstreams, using some of my best photography.  Subscribers to Airstream Life have seen many of these images in stories which I’ve been providing since the magazine’s inception.  Other images in the program have appeared in National Geographic books, Time/Life, Native Peoples Magazine, Field & Stream as well as many others.

L to R:  Greeting the day at Apostle Islands NP; start trails at Chief Joseph; HDR image from Grand Canyon’s Desert View.

Most recently I have authored three books to include ones on Glacier, Montana and Shenandoah.

LIGHTING & COMPOSITION

In addition to promoting national parks as ideal settings for photography, my talk will discuss lighting, composition and some brief discussions on manipulating photos using both Lightroom and PhotoShop.  The intent here is simply to show the possibilities now made possible with digital photography.  We’ll discuss depth of field, shutter speeds and the use of increased ISO’s (like 100 to 3,000) for action, wildlife and even for some night time photography.

The two photo walks will encourage participants to actively engage in the taking of photographs, and the setting will most likely be beautiful Saguaro National Park. I’m considering the idea of creating an “assignment list,” and then seeing what we might come up with.

L to R:  Trails into the Hoodoos, Bryce Canyon NP; illegal immigrants crossing the Rio Grande this past December; cactus, Organ Pipe National Monument, showing close-up photo techniques.

Yes, I’ll carry a camera and tripod, and thought I may take a few photographs of willing participants, essentially I’ll be helping participants by holding reflectors and by offering suggestions for improving composition.

HOPE TO HAVE GOOD TIME

The overall intent is to have a good time and to learn more about the art of photography by the mutual sharing of ideas.  I’m hoping my 40-plus years of photo experience will work to the benefit of Airstream participants.

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This Time Three Years Ago:

*Grand Transitions, Zion NP

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©Bert Gildart: We seldom drive by California’s Imperial Sand Dunes but the other day we had no choice – and were stunned to see that visitation of this beautiful area was confined to off-roaders.  Absolutely no other user groups were present.  Just  off-roaders.

I didn’t understand!  I’d always thought BLM lands (Bureau of Land Management) were supposed to be available to all Americans, but the number of off-roaders makes use of this incredible ecosystem by anyone else  absolutely impossible.

First there was the noise, loud even from where we watched from a rest stop along Interstate 8 in the southeastern corner of California.  Then there was the sight of dozens of vehicles spinning their wheels, sand flying.

Many had American flags hoisted high from the rear of their vehicles, and it seemed they were attempting to convince Interstate drivers that their activities made them the most patriotic of all Americans.

OFF-ROAD USE THREATENS ENDANGERED PLANT

BLM lands are supposed to be accessible for all Americans.  What’s more I thought BLM lands at least considered the requirement of other agencies.  I learned from the Internet that the activities of off-roaders at the Imperial Sand Dunes have threatened the recovery of an endangered plant species – the Peirson’s milk-vetch.

But even if that were not the case, off-road vehicular use at the Imperial Sand Dunes ruins the natural beauty of these massive dunes and renders them un-useable for hikers, bikers –  or any other other outdoor American group who might simply want to sit and soak up the beauty inherent in this  unique desert landscape.

But there’s more, and anyone not acquainted with off-road vehicular use might be shocked to find that just a littler further east there is an entire state park devoted to off-road use.

OFF-ROAD USE CREATES CLOUDS OF UNHEALTHY DUST

The park is known as Ocotillo Wells State Vehicular Recreation Area, and when the area is in use, off roaders generate so much dust that it can literally choke residents in the nearby settlement of Borrego Springs.  It’s been reported that some with allergies are absolutely miserable from the dust, and literally believe they are sick.

Nevertheless, some merchants tolerate the noise and dust because it generates some income, but then they lose business because it drives away others who can’t stand the noise and the dust storms off-roaders create.

Off road vehicular use renders beautiful landscapes like the Imperial Sand Dunes unusable by any other group.  The practice kills everything natural and it requires an immense amount of gas to sustain.  Dust flares the allergies of some, sometimes making life miserable. Many fly an American flag apparently believing it shrouds them in some kind of a divine majesty. 

Guess I need some clarification of policies, but in the meantime, I’m at a loss to understand how this sport improves the life of the average American traveler.  And, incidentally, I greatly respect the American flag, but question the implication that flying Old Glory creates an American who is so admirable that he has carte blanche to destroy a unique desert setting.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Anza Borrego’s Endangered Desert Bighorn

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©Bert Gildart:  I suspect readers have endured enough of my rantings about illegal borders crossings  from Boquillas, Mexico to Big Bend, America, but this setting so intrigued me I simply had to  share it.  Those are the Chisos  Mountains in the background and the river, of course, is the Rio Grande. Note the rider heading toward Big Bend.

Posting this and the other three images is now easy, as we’re in Marathon, Texas, and once again have reliable  access to the Internet.

Just hop on your horse, give it a nudge and in about three minutes you've made the crossing from Mexico to Big Bend National Park. That's in America, Texas to be precise.

Yes, the above image shows a resident of Boquillas stealing across the Rio Grande –  but I believe that if I were destitute I’d take chances too.  The rider is hoping to sell a few of the items shown just below.  All were made in the tiny village of Boquillas, and the folks there need the money.  They’re isolated from the rest of the world, and 9/11 brought America dollars to a screeching halt.

L to R:  Boquillas, Mexico purchases on a cliff overlooking the Rio Grande and Big Bend NP.  Residents of Boquillas cross the river and then position works of art on
rocks in Big Bend.  Residents of Boquillas then monitor sale items from their side of the Rio Grande.

At the moment we’re in Marathon, Texas, meeting a good friend of mine.  We’re celebrating a very significant milestone, or at least that’s what the Bible says, calling it his  “three score and ten.”  We’ll be here for a night or two, but then, we’re all heading back to Big Bend for a few more days in this incredible example of the Chihuahuan Desert.  At least in Big Bend the news is not as dire as what we’ve just learned about another mass shooting, this time in Connecticut.

So tragic!

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FOUR YEARS AGO:

*Pero, The Luckiest Mouse Alive

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©Bert Gildart: “See ‘em?” questioned Janie from our perch on the boulders near Rio Grande Village Campground in Big Bend National Park, Texas. “There goes another…

“I don’t think they’re supposed to be doing that!”

Fact of the matter is they’re not supposed to be doing that! But it’s so darn easy for Mexicans to cross the Rio Grande River at Boquillas, Mexico and enter this immense American national park that they do so at will.  And everyone knows it.  Rangers know it, campground hosts and hostesses know it, maintenance personnel know it, and now we know it ‘cuz we’d just seen it.  It’s easy! Simply hop into a saddle behind a Mexican horseman, and no one even gets wet. In places the historic river is only about 100 yards wide (if that), and on a Quarter horse the water is but stirrup high.

L to R:  Prior to 9/11 Victor could legally transport Americans from Big Bend to Boquillas, Mexico.  Today, he wades or boats the river with items to sell which the park now considers to be illegal.  Nevertheless, everyone knows he does it, just like they know other illegals (images 2 and 3) ford the Rio Grande with items of art which they too sell along the park’s various trails. In the case of image 2 & 3, Mexicans are fording Rio Grande immediately adjacent to the Rio Grande Village Campground.  Many we talked to say it makes them nervous.  (All images copyright Bert Gildart)

The purpose, of course, of “stealing” across the U.S./Mexican border is to sell your family’s works of art, and this river setting offers many opportunities.

SHALLOW AND NARROW

In some places the water could hit a horse at shoulder height, in which case you defer to a small canoe like the one Victor, “The Singing Mexican,” uses.  Worst case scenario, simply wade the river, get wet, and when no one is around, place your objects of art along the trail.  Before day’s end American tourists will be along — and just as surely as the Chicos Mountains will be standing tall and majestic in the morrow — someone will place the requisite price in the small, stone-weighted adjacent glass jar.  Signs warn against purchasing contraband from undesirables, but most (visitors at any rate) just chortle the thought away.  “Yeah, we’ve got one of Victor’s walking sticks.”

And though purchase price may be small, the money means much to residents in Boquillas.

UNIQUE VILLAGE

Along the entire Mexican/American border, the small village of Boquillas, Coahuila (the state) is truly unique .  Established about 1916 to serve mining interests, the village peers down on the Rio Grande River from a 500-foot high cliff face where it looms over the 800,000 acre Big Bend, famous for its javelina, road runners and other premier examples of the Chihuahuan Desert. In this immense landscape employees at the park once played baseball with residents of Boquillas.  Folks from both sides crossed from their respective countries with little more than God’s blessings, and might have done so simply to gossip about Juanita’s new baby boy.

Here, too, in this setting a genuine business once existed where American visitors could hop aboard Victor’s boat and listen, perhaps, to a few of the man’s ballads as he paddled you across this historic river.  Five minutes later you would step foot in Mexico, climb the bank to the village, have dinner and then, several hours later, boat back to Big Bend National Park.

Though illegal border crossings is a significant story in Big Bend, it is not the major story.  Instead, it is park’s unique geology; its outdoor activities such as paddling the Rio Grand River; and the wildlife, such as the javelina, that make this premier park so fascinating.  Nevertheless, Big Bend National Park, like Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, has problems that must be resolved.

Prior to 9/11 it was all very legal and everyone loved the experience. No passport or other legal papers were needed, but most importantly, adventures here provided residents in Boquillas with an income.

NOT VERY ACCESSIBLE

All this worked because Boquillas is not easily accessible, making drug running impractical.  Nevertheless, after 9/11 new rules were implemented.  Essentially it meant that Americans could no longer cross the Rio Grande for a night in Boquillas. As a result, generating revenue for the 450 residents of Boquillas became a huge issue.  And so Mexican residents  began crossing the river where they’d position their art on rocks along the Boquillas Canyon trail, which is remote.

And because times are now desperate, some who make these illegal crossings get overly zealous.  A few ask inappropriate questions, as just recently happened to Janie and me.

WE WERE WARY!

Four days ago (December 15), Janie and I were returning from our hike into beautiful Boquillas Canyon, when we saw a Mexican horseman near the crest of our short trail.  From his vantage he had a commanding view of our vehicle and the comings and goings of all hikers.  He was just off the trail, and he was definitely not supposed to be there.  Nevertheless, he wanted information – and that pissed us off, for his attitude seemed imperious.

“Ola,” said the horseman.  “Where you camped… Any more behind you?”

Because posted signs explain that thefts have recently occurred at the parking lot, his presence also made us wary, so we hiked on, saying little.  Later a ranger said our thoughts were justified.

Priort to 9/11 Victor the boatman could transport visitors from Big Bend to Boquillas. That may soon be possible again.

“Yes,” said Ranger Jose Galinda, “he could have been signaling a partner.”  But Galinda also said aggressive residents would probably be weeded out if conditions returned to those that existed prior to 9/11.

SOON TO BE LEGAL?

Most can’t wait and rumor has it that change is in the offing, though convoluted red tape will be part of the bargain.  Nevertheless, most believe it will be a start in the right direction – that it will eliminate any budding problems by charging the economy in Boquillas.  That means that in two to three months (March, some say) Janie and I may be dining in Boquillas.  It would be an adventure – and then, too, we’d like to help Mexicans in Mexico sustain themselves.

It could be a very good thing, certainly better than labeling some of American’s closest neighbors as “undesirables,” which they certainly are not – at least in the case of Boquillas.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS SIX YEARS AGO:

*By Their Beaks Shall You know Them

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©Bert Gildart: If you plant the image of the row of old adobe homes in your mind’s eye, then shut your eyes for a moment and then listen to blare of the trumpet playing revelry through the park’s much obscured PA system, it is easy to be transported back to the years between 1854 and 1891.

Image of both old and new Fort Davis, taken from lofty nature trail.

I was visiting Fort Davis, Texas, and it is one of the very best preserved old military complexes in the United States.  Such integrity helps preserve old stories and they are still told here about the famous Indian leader, Victorio; about everyday life for soldiers on the frontier; about the Buffalo soldiers; and, sadly, about Henry O. Flipper – West Point’s first black graduate.

NATURE TRAIL

To better assimilate this parade of images, I had followed the advice of a park ranger and followed a nature trail to the top of a mountain of muscular rocks of volcanic origin.  Along the way signs alerted me to materials used for constructing the fort, to wood used for heating the fort, to interpretations of how life in general unfolded for the men charged here to protect settlers moving into Texas.

Though the Comanches had been defeated in the mid 1870s, Apaches continued to make travel on the San Antonio-El Paso Road dangerous.  Units from Fort Davis fought the crafty Victorio eventually forcing the Apaches into Mexico, where Mexican soldiers killed Victorio and his followers.

BUFFALO SOLDIERS

This lofty visage also offered the best views of the entire complex, which consisted of dozens of well-preserved old structures.  Following the Civil War many of these buildings were occupied by Buffalo Soldiers, and here is where a story of tragedy begins to unfold.

L to R:  Construction of military complex consisted of much adobe; showing parade grounds and segment of buildings yet remaining; “Buffalo Soldier”, men Indians named because of similarity in appearance of head hair  (they thought) to wool of bison.  They also called these men “worthy opponents.”

From 1870 to 1871 Henry Flipper was one of the black soldiers stationed at Fort Davis, and he became the victim of a conspiracy fomented by racist officers.

Though off the radar for most, I’ve known about the story for years, having heard it from my dad, himself a West Point graduate and a man who was proud of his knowledge of academy history.  In 1881, while stationed at Fort Davis, Texas, Flipper was framed by white officers and charged with embezzlement. At his court-martial he was found not guilty of embezzlement but guilty of “conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.”  He was dishonorably discharged, and for the rest of his life he fought to restore his good name.  Eventually he did.

The town surrounding us is also called Ft. Davis and we’ve parked our Airstream at an RV park named after the Butterfield Stagecoach Route.  Essentially, winter is setting in making us one of the very few people now exploring this historic and quite picturesque area.  Though this quiet time might not be for everyone, we absolutely cherish such times. However, if you dear reader are in the area, please look us up.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS FIVE YEARS AGO:

(Note: RV travelers might enjoy materials from both of these links!

*Remember the Alamo

*Christmas On the Road

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©Bert Gildart:  With a look of great concern, Janie suddenly stopped, turned and tried to make hidden pointing gestures.   “There’s a man,” she whispered.    “A Mexican and he’s carrying a backpack.  I think I hear more.  I think we’re in trouble.”

Searching for a parallel experience I don’t believe I’ve seen my wife quite so upset since running into two grizzly bears in Glacier National Park.

Written in English, Spanish and a local Native American tongue, this is one of many signs alerting visitors to the presence of illegal aliens.

At the moment Janie and I were hiking Alamo Canyon in Organ Pipe National Monument and I had stopped to take a few photographs.  We had completed the goal of our hike which was to follow a one mile long trail to an old homestead used by rancher Birdie Del Miller before creation of the park in 1937.  The old brick structure was about eight miles from the Mexican border and before striking out we had seen a sign near the trailhead (also the Alamo primitive campground) explaining that if we need help we should “push the red button.”  Continuing the sign exclaimed:

“Rescue personnel will arrive shortly to help you. 
Do not leave the area.”

And now I must confess that I too was unnerved, and quickly gathered up my camera gear, joined Janie and began marching out.  Simultaneously we watched the brush along the south side of the wash and again, about 30 yards away we saw the man, as well as the movement of others..  Apparently he didn’t want us to see any more of him, for he began sneaking through the brush.  But we continued to see him, and we saw the constant movement of the brush.  Suddenly, I remembered I’d left my $75 trekking pole, and explained that I needed to run back, quickly  and get it.

“If you do,” said Janie, “I’ll shoot you!”

L to R:  Three miles on a dirt road to the trailhead into Alamo Canyon; unusual growth of organ pipe along trail; one trail mile to the  old brick home of
Birdie Del Miller, where Janie spotted an illegal Mexican.

An hour later we reported our experience to headquarters, something park officials ask everyone to do when they encounter illegals.  But as we talked with the ranger we began to get the feeling that we were filing a wildlife report, similar, let’s say, to seeing a wolverine in Glacier, which is just a little more than routine.  I also explained that I had left my trekking pole at the rock shelter and said I was going back to get it.

“Your call,” said the ranger – and that set into motion yet another experience about illegals that now has me thinking.

Yes, I retrieved my pole, and when returning to the trailhead I encountered a camper from Nebraska who said that only yesterday he had encountered an illegal Mexican immigrant who was about 20 years old.  Mr. Nebraska said the young man was starving, out of water and needed help.  “That,” said the farmer from Nebraska, “is when we sat him down and fed him.  Then, following his insistence, we pushed the red button, which quickly brought in the Border Patrol.”

And now I’ve got to wonder:  Are we making too much of the danger imposed by these “undocumented immigrants?”  No visitor has ever been hurt.

Most of the illegals must  come from desperate financial situations and are simply looking for a better way of life.  To stop such traffic (and it must be stopped because the park is suffering!)  the solution may be to impose heavy fines on the farmers, ranchers – business people – who hire these illegals – or consider legalizing marijuana, the other reason that illegals risk the hardships of crossing our border.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS FIVE YEARS AGO:

*The Dry Tortugas

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©Bert Gildart: Here are a few images that I have not had time to work into a more informational blog, but which stand alone and tell a bit more about the diversity of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.

One of the images shows black water bottles, and a park brochure says to report the location and presence of such bottles.  These were  near Victoria Mine, just uphill from the mine, and were used by illegal immigrants.

L TO R:  Black bottles usually indicate the passage of illegal immigrants; Janie inside cabin at Victoria Mine (requiring
a several mile hike); Don and Nancy approaching
Bull Pasture, following hike accessed from Ajo Mountain Drive.

In one of the images Janie is framed by the window of an old cabin once a center for sporadic gold and silver excavations in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.   Other paths continue from this structure and lead to nearby Senita Basin, which has been closed for several years because of problems with illegal immigration (see my last several blog postings: one, two, three). Victoria Mine is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, as one of the oldest prospecting sites in southwest Arizona.

Cactus forest near Bull Pasture, just off the Ajo Mountain Drive

Other images are from the hike Don, Nancy and I made to Bull Pasture, accessed from along the Ajo Mountain Drive.  Flowers were still out and the hike was literally a stroll through a cactus forest.

Sadly our trip is coming to a close and we must leave this lovely place, bound for Big Bend and the celebration of a friends very significant birthday.  We’re not sure which day we’ll be leaving, and most likely won’t know until we wake up one morning and say, Yep, guess it’s time to go.”

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS SIX YEARS AGO:

*Stalking the Mangroves of Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge

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©Bert Gildart:  Shortly after Don and Nancy Dennis and I turned our bicycles onto the Puerto Blanco road in Organ Pipe National Monument, a patrol car passed us to be followed a few moments later by a surveillance helicopter. Quickly they assessed our presence, and satisfied that we were not undocumented immigrants or drug runners, they accelerated on.

Only five miles of the 50-mile-long Puerto Blanco road are open now to legal American residents. Unfortunately the rest is closed.

For a while, we watched the helicopter, for it seemed focused on a low pass in the surrounding mountains.  Back and forth the helicopter flew, and my companions and I discussed the difficulty of their work as we rode.  If  immigrants — or drug runners — were camouflaged, it seemed they could evade rangers and the border patrol, and apparently many do, for the internet suggests that hundreds stream through the park on an annual basis.  On a national basis, along our entire border, the internet reports that over a million Mexicans attempt to enter the United States — illegally. (Note: I know my opinion on this seems to shift, but conditions here are persuasive and in your face. Other thoughts may be needed now for balance.)

CLOSED TO LEGAL AMERICANS

America has its problems and this beautiful park epitomizes the complexities, for it has experienced some tragic moments.  In 2002 a drug runner killed a much admired ranger and, then, over the years undocumented immigrants  have perished from lack of water.  That, too, is tragic, but of course, they should not have been here in the first place.  Because of their activities vast portions of this once accessible park have been closed, and that doesn’t seem right, for Organ Pipe is such a unique portion of America that it has, in fact, been declared a world heritage center, meaning that there is no place else in the world like it.  (Night Photography in Organ Pipe.) But as unique as this park may be, sections are considered dangerous and you can no longer  visit these  beautiful sections of this the Sonoran Desert.

L To R:  Compassionate water tanks help create “humane borders.”  Sign at water tanks about man who perished.  Yet another sign at water tanks noting that Americans create humane border crossing, essentially for illegal Mexicans who depart Mexico because of impoverished working conditions.  That’s tragic, but the population of America has now increased by several million, and in many cases, their problems now become ours.

The bike ride that Don, Nancy and were making illustrates one of the restrictions – and some of the accommodations we’ve had to make.  Fifteen years ago Janie and I drove this rode and at the time the entire 50-mile-long length of the Puerto Blanco road was open, but today, except for the first five miles, the road is closed.  Percentage wise, that means that 69 percent of this park is closed, including beautiful Quitobaquito springs, which Janie and I toured several years ago, but only with an armed escort.

HUMANE BORDERS

After about an hour’s ride, Don, Nancy and I came to a gate closed sign and to adjacent accommodations offered by small shelters roofed with ocotillo.  While we ate our lunch, the helicopter continued its surveillance.  We then retraced our route, stopping this time at a series of “compassionate water tanks” located about 100 yards off the road. A huge blue flag pinpointed their presence, and we tested the fullness of the tanks by attempting to inch them up, but they wouldn’t budge, so they were obviously full of water.

Water tanks were here several years ago when I visited the area, so one of the fundamentals of  human needs has been met, and for this reason it is appropriate to say that our borders – as the associated signs declare – are “Humane Borders.” And that is an American virtue.

Don and Nancy beneath roof of ocotillo shelter, representing the end of the road for us. Over half of the park lies beyond, but it is closed to Americans because of the danger posed by illegal immigrants.

But beyond that I believe the U.S. needs to protect its own resources.  The population of America is increasing exponentially, and more and more pressure is being placed on our limited resources, national parks being among those resources.  Superintendent Lee Baiza (whom I interviewed several years ago for a story about Organ Pipe) is doing a wonderful job, but he has his challenges.  Everyone should wish him the best.  I hope I can do so again, but in the meantime, I will continue to enjoy as much of this beautiful park as is possible, and hope to show images of Organ Pipe over the next few days. Legal residents are being prohibited from seeing so much of this park and that is a tragedy.

AIRSTREAM TRAVELS FIVE YEARS AGO:

*Tampa Florida

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©Bert Gildart: On the ceiling of a massive rock deep in a setting known as Indian Hill, smoke spots were everywhere.  The setting was cozy, warm and seductive, prompting Tony Feathers to comment about the romance of the area. “Imagine lying here beside a cozy fire.  It’s cold but you’re snug in your sheep skin furs.  The children are asleep, and you’re with the right lady.”

Tony and his significant other, Betty, laughed and then we wandered around, looking for further evidence of this bygone era. Both work winters in Anza Borrego Desert State Park (Tony is a musician –LISTEN) and like me, they are fascinated with bygone Native American cultures.

Judging from smoke on the ceiling of this boulder, Natives burned many fires.

Venturing to Indian Hill is not for everyone.  In very general terms  our journey into the past took us up Mortero Wash, then along a 4-wheel drive to a safe spot large enough to squeeze my pickup into the surrounding cholla forest.  From there we hiked several miles toward some of the the most extensive boulder fields I have ever seen.  It was here among these granite boulders that the Kumeyaay Indians made their living over a period of hundreds of years.  The evidence was everywhere and it assumed different forms.

As we wandered we counted dozens of morteros. These large rock  pockets were created over the years through the pounding of agave and other plant materials into a flower, later used for the making of bread.

In some places we also found pictographs, suggesting a spiritual connection of the group with the Great Unknown.  Though no one can say for sure what the symbols represent or which members of the tribe created them, from other sites I know experts believe the sun was a common motif and that a “Shaman,” or spiritual leader, might have created the figures.  Likely some of the pictographs here represented the sun.

We continued our wanderings finding several boulders where smoke patterns were thick.  And then we found the massive boulder pictured here. By our calculations it measured about 120 feet by 60, meaning it would have accommodated three or four Airstream trailers similar to ours.

L to R: Tony Feathers at morteros, boulder fields near Indian Hill, pictographs.

Casting around we found several small rocks on which to sit and tried to absorb the feelings of the time.  Unlike the Kumeyaay our day was free of strife and work, and here in this place and at this moment of time we felt an immense separation from all that was secular and mundane.  We imaged a gentle sun would shine forever, that the winds would be light and warm, that hunting would be productive, and that all would remain bright and good.

Reluctantly we returned to reality, leaving behind national treasures  we hoped would continue to be valued by all visitors.

AIRSTREAM TRAVELS — AT AND AROUND THANKSGIVING:

*Thanksgiving Pardon

Museum of the Cherokee and Thanksgiving salutes

Turkeys For Thanksgiving?

Lessons From Cades Cove (Great Smokies)

Snow Falling On Cedars

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©Bert Gildart:  I wasn’t real happy with my posted image showing a water tank, essentially because I wanted the words AGUA and WATER to leap out. The unintentional exclusion of the last letter of each word diminishes the impact.

Blame it on the fact that I had ridden my bike almost 20 miles on a day that approached the 100 degree mark and my mind could have been a bit addled.  But the upside is that I now know something about heat, dramatized by the presence of the tanks.

Compassionate water tank just north of Mexican border near Agua Caliente

The tank is referred to as a “compassionate water tank,” and it is one of a number of barrels located south of Agua Caliente, meaning that they are located just a few miles north of the Mexican border.   Each of the barrels contains jugs of water and virtually all will be consumed by undocumented immigrants, most of who are trying to find a better life for themselves in the US.

Ignoring the politics that engulf the issue of undocumented immigrants, groups who place the barrels here do so because they believe in human rights, and such compassion is significant.  In other words, these humanitarians are simply expressing the belief through their actions that people should not die of heat exhaustion and dehydration because they want a better way of life.

Several years ago over two dozen illegals died, and none in this group was a drug runner.  These people died horrible deaths in the desert, and might have survived had water been present.

In no way, however,  should this posting be construed as one endorsing the presence of undocumented immigrants.  The issues seem so complex and so nuanced that I have no real opinion, just simply trying to explain what is here.  I’ve reported a bit on this subject before and if you also click the associated links you’ll see that I do recognize the compassionate aspects – but also the downside of undocumented immigrants, particularly as it has been affecting one of our national parks — and when it includes illegal drugs!

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS THREE YEARS AGO:

*Airstream Camper Tips (From Organ Pipel)

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(You can order our new books (shown below ) from Amazon — or you can order them directly from the Gildarts. Bert will knock a dollar off the list price of $16.95, but he must add the cost of book-rate mailing and the mailer, which are $2.25. The grand total then is $18.20. Please send checks to Bert Gildart at 1676 Riverside Road, Bigfork, MT 59911.)

Naturalist Marty Martell describes concept of "imprinting" on Condors

©Bert Gildart: While standing at Mather Overlook, one of the most beautiful natural amphitheaters in the world, Ranger/Naturalist Marty Martell provided an informative lecture on the huge California Condor.  He described the vast populations that existed up until the late 1800s, enumerated the reasons for the gigantic bird’s sudden decline – and described the efforts various organizations have employed to save the species from extinction.

The lecture was an appropriate park presentation as the nearby Vermillion Cliffs serve as one of the release sites.  Often, then, the cliffs in and around Mather Overlook provide favorite roosting areas.

DECLINE

California condors have the distinction of being the nation’s largest bird, with a wing span that stretches about nine feet from tip to tip.  Sporting a squat, bald head, mumps-like cheeks, and a thick powerful beak, condors also have the distinction of being one of the ugliest of birds. Until recently they served the ecosystem by cleaning the landscape of dead carcasses, and did so until settlers began making their way across country in the mid 1800s.

Sometimes settlers shot the birds, but they also grabbed the huge egg that condors lay but once every several years.  Then, to compound matters, along came the use of DDT, introduced in the 1960s as a pesticide.  The substance worked its way into the ecosystem, weakening condor eggs to such an extent that by 1985, the nation tallied but 21 birds.

In an attempt to rescue them from extinction, California biologists began a captive breeding program.

HEROIC MEASURES

Ranger Martell said that the program initially encountered problems because the birds would imprint on the person who was trying to raise them.  He said the problem was resolved by disguising the “parent” in such a way that he or she would look like a condor.  Researcher also had to condition young birds to avoid electrical power poles.  They did so by placing power poles loaded with uncomfortable charges in the huge pens where condors were developing.  “After landing on one a time or two you can bet they’d avoid them in the wild.”

Very slowly the program began to work, and though a population requires thousands before the species can be removed from the endangered list, today the nation’s population numbers 435 with about 70 of those birds residing in and around Arizona’s Grand Canyon.  Others reside in Baja California and in California’s spectacular Anza Borrego Desert State Park (ABDSP).

Subject of condors was of interest to many Grand Canyon visitors

Often visitors see condors while in the Grand Canyon, though we didn’t.  But good news looms.    We’re now in ABDSP, and have just read that on November 23, Dr. Mike Wallace will be providing a presentation on his work with condors at this state park’s annual desert lecture series.

Remote cliffs of the Grand Canyon ideal for safety of California condors.

We’ll certainly be attending, hoping we can learn more about the bird that has so fascinated Grand Canyon naturalist Marty Martell.  Anza Borrego, incidentally, will be our home for the next few months.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS TWO YEARS AGO:

*Shenandoah’s Loft Mountain Campground

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(You can order our new books (shown below ) from Amazon — or you can order them directly from the Gildarts. Bert will knock a dollar off the list price of $16.95, but he must add the cost of book-rate mailing and the mailer, which are $2.25. The grand total then is $18.20. Please send checks to Bert Gildart at 1676 Riverside Road, Bigfork, MT 59911.)

©Bert Gildart:  Yesterday Janie and I bicycled to what has become my most favorite part of Grand Canyon: Hermit’s Rest.  Because Janie had not biked much recently we decided to try out the shuttle system, which we found surprisingly easy to use and the bus drivers more than helpful.

Janie at "entrance" to Hermit's Rest

Because it was our first time loading bikes onto the bus, the driver showed us which levers to pull – and push – and within a matter of minutes we had our two bikes loaded onto the rack, which is outside and located on the very front of the bus.  About ten minutes later we unloaded our bikes near Hopi Point.  In that way we eliminated the most uphill portion of the Hermit’s Road Drive, which is open only to shuttle buses and to bikes.

HARVESTING PINYON PINE NUTS

Essentially, we were riding in a Pinyon/Juniper forest to the South all flanked to the north by the depths of the Grand Canyon.  As we rode we could see that the pinyon pine nuts were ripe, and we had learned from our week now of exploring this park that many Native families were gathering nuts, perfectly legal for all ethnic groups.  Several days early Janie had visited with an elderly Native lady who said this was the very best crop they’ve had in several years. “Next year,” she said, “there probably won’t be many nuts.”

L to R: (Click to enjoy as larger images)  Tarantula along Hermit’s Rest, pinyon pine showing seeds inside cone and ready to burst free.

Nuts are best gathered on the ground as when in the cones on the trees they are exceedingly sticky.  Natives gather them in huge quantities, then bake the nuts and when properly prepared “taste better than peanut butter.”  We noticed the ground, beneath stands of pinyon pine trees, was thick with cones and that the cones extruded seeds.  We continued our ride, reaching Hermit’s Rest about an hour later.

Today, Hermit’s Rest is a small stone building that serves as a place for visitors to rest and stroll along the canyon rim.  It’s also the point at which the road runs out and where buses and bikers must turn around.

ANOTHER TARANTULA

Several days ago while biking the area just west of The Rest, I found a tarantula, and in almost the same place Janie and I spotted yet another.  This one seemed larger, and by now I had learned a bit more about handling this huge arachnid – and hopefully (for your viewing pleasure) the making of better tarantula images.  (See previous post for comparison.)

Colorado River, which has been at work for over a million years.

We completed our ride – almost 18 miles – just as the sun neared the horizon.  It lite the canyon in dramatic ways – even after it had disappeared.  Below us we could see the famous Colorado River that had been at work for well over a million years.  It was a humbling experience and we rode on, returning to our Airstream near dark.  We were tired but invigorated.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS TWO YEARS AGO:

*Shenandoah and the Monarch Butterfly

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©Bert Gildart:  From the campground at which we’re staying near the Grand Canyon Visitor Center, it is about nine miles to Hermit’s Rest. The Hermit Canyon Road, which is about 7 miles long,  is closed to all vehicular traffic except for the park’s shuttle buses.  But it is also open for bicycle riders.

Bert Gildart along bike route to Hermit's Rest

The road passes a number of overlooks with names that hint at the vistas that unfold, and they include Hopi Point, Mohave Point, The Abyss – and Powell Point, among others.

Powell Point recalls the Civil War soldier who was first to explore the Grand Canyon.  From the overlook one can peer one mile down and see the Colorado River winding through the canyon it has created.  Powell was venturing into the unknown and what makes his journey even more amazing is that he had lost one of his arms at the Battle of Shiloh.  He was  struck by a minie ball, and the raw nerve endings at the stubble  caused him pain for the rest of his life.

Nevertheless, he and his men explored the Grand Canyon  and though several of his men deserted, he remained undaunted. 

“We have an unknown distance yet to run; an unknown river yet to explore. What falls there are we know not; what rocks beset the channel we know not. To leave the exploration unfinished, to say that there is a part of the canyon which I cannot explore is more than I am willing to acknowledge and I determine to go on.”

View from bike route near Monument View Vista

“Its colors, though many and complex at any instant, change with the ascending and declining sun; lights and shadows appear and vanish with the passing clouds, and the changing seasons mark their passage in changing colors”. John Wesley Powell

Powell Point is one of the first overlooks one comes to along the ride, but the rest is equally as dramatic, and bike riding has to be  one of the most delightful — perhaps even profound — ways to experience the majesty of the area. If one does nothing but peddle (on a mountain bike)  it takes about an hour (each way), as the route is  a series of ups and downs, but  if you really want to enjoy the area, you need to take several hours and stop often.

Along the way I met a delightful German couple near Monument Creek Vista and they offered to take my picture.  I then took several pictures of the scenery that was a constant companion.  It was late in the day and I was delighted with the image (just above) that unfolded.

Tarantula near Hermit's Rest

On my return trip from Hermit’s Rest,  I found a tarantula, a creature I have been actively searching for.  In fact, one of the reasons we departed Montana early this year was with the hope of photographing these creature. Males are particularly active in the fall as they begin looking for a mate.

I hope to find more, but in the meantime, here is one of the several images I took of this amazing creature.  It was near the road, and fearing that a tour bus would run it over, I moved it with my gloved hand.  Those in the know say they are extraordinarily tolerant, but that they will bite if a person handles it roughly.

All totaled my ride took a little more than three hours, and I may do it again, for as Heraclitus, the great  Greek philosopher once said:  “No man ever steps in the same river twice,” meaning, of course, that another ride would at least provide subtle changes.  Or to be even more dramatic,  not only has the river flowed on, but we have also flowed on.

Perhaps Powell was a student of Heraclitus, easy to become here along the road to Hermit’s Rest, on the cusp of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Rudyard Montana — So Who Is That Old Sorehead

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(You can order our new books (shown below ) from Amazon — or you can order them directly from the Gildarts. Bert will knock a dollar off the list price of $16.95, but he must add the cost of book-rate mailing and the mailer, which are $2.25. The grand total then is $18.20. Please send checks to Bert Gildart at 1676 Riverside Road, Bigfork, MT 59911.)

©Bert Gildart: Desert View, located about 25 miles east of the Grand Canyon Visitor Center claims the park’s best view of the Colorado River.  Little wonder everyone wants to model in front of this powerful scene, and how lucky I was that an Oriental model agreed to pose for her mother and then to then stay a second or two longer so that I might also record the setting.

The young lady stood next to the 70 foot stone tower intended to look like an ancient Pueblo watch tower, and reminded us of one we’d visited often at Hovenweep National Monument.  But interpreters say this “Watch Tower” dwarfs any known Indian tower. Its draw is almost as magnetic as are views from the rim, and moments later “my” model headed for the circular tower.

Oriental model assumes pose at Desert View, next to the Watch Tower.

She was the first of several people who would add depth and presumably interest to the photos I took at Desert Views.

WORKS OF ART

Like others I wanted to climb to the top, and learn a bit more about the existence of “The Watch Tower.”  It was designed by architect Mary Colter and completed in 1932.  It is a four-story structure and the top is reached by climbing about 80 steps up a narrow circular stair case.

At the top level, spotting scopes have been mounted at each of the windows that peer onto the Colorado River. Synching my strobe with the daylight exposure outside the tower I took several images.  Then I returned to levels two and three where an artist had created genuine works of art depicting various aspects of Native cultures, particularly the Hopi culture.

KOKOPELLI

Shortly after the tower was completed Fred Kabotie, a Hopi Indian,  created panels of animals and of various spiritual figures.  He drew images of elk, of the sun, and of fertility. In his work he also duplicated some of the pictographs and petroglyphs found thoughout the Southwest to include Kokopelli, the mythological flute player.

Kokopelli was the predominant figure in the religious landscape of the Southwest from 500 A.D. through 1325 A.D. Typically, Kokopelli was considered a god of fertility, and is still worshipped by many Native American tribes in the Southwest. Others consider him to be a trickster, musician, or a warrior — one with magical hunting skills.

But all of the images in the tower were haunting, enough so that the collective voice of the crowd had been subdued.

Janie and I spend almost an hour wandering the interior of the Watch Tower, then returned outside and noticed that the trail along this rim setting also offered a view of Navajo Mountain, which in the distance and through the haze backdropped the Colorado River.

So far we rank Desert View one of the highlights of our explorations – but there are more to come.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Bison Kill Site

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(You can order our new books (shown below ) from Amazon — or you can order them directly from the Gildarts. Bert will knock a dollar off the list price of $16.95, but he must add the cost of book-rate mailing and the mailer, which are $2.25. The grand total then is $18.20. Please send checks to Bert Gildart at 1676 Riverside Road, Bigfork, MT 59911.)

©Bert Gildart:  In addition to world-class scenery, Bryce Canyon National Park has other dramatic features that may not be so well known.  For one, antelope roam the open meadows of this lofty park, and they are a delight to watch as they zip from one location to another.

Wildlife in Bryce is diverse and includes antelope

But Bryce also hosts one of the world’s most interesting of vegetation species, the bristlecone pine. The tree is the oldest of tree-like organism and dendrochronology — or tree dating — places individuals near 5,000 years of age.

In Bryce, park literature says they grow only along the rim and the oldest here are but a mere 1,600 years old.  Research also says that that many resource managers are reluctant to reveal the location of the trees.  “Unfortunately,” they say, “the selfish tradition of collecting anything unique has caused many agencies who protect Bristlecone Pines to keep secret the age and location of their older trees.”

L TO R:  Though most species rot after death not bristlecone pines, which only seem to grow more bizarre as they weather, like stone.  Bristlecone pine cone; more bizarre formations.

To some degree that seems to be the case in Bryce, though park literature details a few locations, so my images are not revealing anything new.  For instance, literature says you can see them from along the Peekaboo Trail, the trail which Janie and I hiked several days ago.

By virtue of age the tree is inspiring, but the species has practical applications.  Tree rings of known ages are compared against environmental conditions enabling botanists to evaluate environmental conditions that may have existed long ago. They do so by measuring the relative size of growth rings, and by knowing that certain favorable climatic conditions create greater space between the growth rings.  Years ago I learned much of this in college botany courses.

Bristlecone pines backdropped by Bryce Hoodoos.

In part the tree’s longevity is due to the wood’s extreme durability. While other species of trees that grow nearby suffer rot, even after death bare bristlecone pines can endure, standing on their roots for many centuries. Such exposure as they begin to die back creates unusual forms, which certainly added to the timelessness that seems so inherent in Bryce.

Though bristlecone pines grow in many other areas, my search for them has not been as successful as it has been in Bryce.  And now, we’re off to the Grand Canyon, which is linked geologically to Bryce.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS ONE YEAR AGO:

*Cowgirl Poet Gwen Petersen

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(You can order our new books (shown below ) from Amazon — or you can order them directly from the Gildarts. Bert will knock a dollar off the list price of $16.95, but he must add the cost of book-rate mailing and the mailer, which are $2.25. The grand total then is $18.20. Please send checks to Bert Gildart at 1676 Riverside Road, Bigfork, MT 59911.)

©Bert Gildart: According to the several geology books I have been reading and to the naturalists with whom I’ve spoken, Bryce Canyon National Park contains the world’s most spectacular formations of “Hoodoos.”  Obviously, then, the conditions that exist here must be unique, and as we’ve poked around, essentially hiking some of the trails, we’re starting to realize that all this hyperbola really is true.

Descending trail linking with Peekaboo

Yesterday, Janie and I hiked from a trailhead at Bryce Overlook along a spur that connected a loop trail known as the Peekaboo Trail.  In all of our years of exploring the nation’s national parks, we both agreed that this trail exposed some of the nation’s most unusual formations: towering spires, pinnacles, huge knife-like extensions of rocks; castles, arches, tunnels and more. And not just isolated but spreading over an area of miles.  The three-mile long Peekaboo trail provides little more than an introduction to the vastness of all these “Hoodoos,” for they extend over acres and acres.

How did they come to exist? And how all the unusual shapes and vast sizes?

L TO R: Descending from Bryce Point, spires along Hoodoo Trail, Janie about to enter tunnel descending to Bryce Canyon and continuation of 5-mile hike.
(CLICK TO ENJOY AS AN ENLARGED IMAGE)

According to interpreters, there are several reasons, and all are unique – found no where else in the world.

PRECISE FORCES

Millions of years ago, two forces began to act on what was then bedrock.  One of these forces exerting pressure upward but in a northwesterly fashion while the other force exerted its pressures in a northeasterly fashion.  These forces acted independent of one another, but the end result is that in concert they created vertical fracture, and if acted upon would assume elongated configurations. In other words, all of these lines of weakness were adequate for the next chapter in the saga of Hoodoo formation.

LOFTY ELEVATION

Bryce is situated at elevations that range between 7,000 and 9,500 feet, rendering it highly susceptible to continuous freezing and thawing. The area also receives a fair amount of precipitation, and all these conditions render the area ripe from erosion.  Add to that the differential sedimentation created when vast inland seas and huge lakes covered the area and now there is some understanding explaining why some rocks might erode more quickly than others.  These later conditions account for the numerous pinnacles that are more massive on top than on the bottom.

Hoodoo detail as only really appreciated by hiking trails in Bryce, such as Peekaboo.

The total story is a bit more complex and actually begins with thoughts about continental drift, a theory that takes what is now Utah to what is now the equator where colorful minerals were added long ago.  Today these incredible colors comprise the park’s Hoodoos, making them even more inspiring – and photogenic.

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AIRSTREAM TRAVELS LAST YEAR:

*Elk and CM Russell Wildlife Refuge

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(You can order our new books (shown below ) from Amazon — or you can order them directly from the Gildarts. Bert will knock a dollar off the list price of $16.95, but he must add the cost of book-rate mailing and the mailer, which are $2.25. The grand total then is $18.20. Please send checks to Bert Gildart at 1676 Riverside Road, Bigfork, MT 59911.)