©Bert Gildart: Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts is always an attraction but this week the draw for Janie and me has been particularly compelling. Family children have been attending a camp in which teachers have been sharing skills needed to farm in a village set between 1790 and 1840.

Back dropped by horse drawn carriages, covered bridges, cobblers, blacksmiths and a host of other period attractions, we watched as children demonstrated a few things they’d learned during the week-long summer camp.

Two of Janie’s grandchildren, Cassie and Griff, danced yesterday, and so did two of their cousins, Dominic and Cordelia. All had learned their lessons well, but the ambiance helped with the enthusiasm.

First, the two girls were both dressed in bonnets and long dresses. The young men were dressed in dark pants laced in the rear for a continued fit. They wore suspenders and straw hats.

As well, a man who looked as though he had just stepped out of one of the log cabins provided the music. He was dressed in a derby hat and he played a flute, and as he played, the children performed three different dances, all taken from a far-off age.

VILLAGE LIFE

Meanwhile all other village life went on as it would during a normal day from the early 1800s, something I later learned with Piper, another of Janie’s grandchildren who did not want to leave after the dancing was over. Neither did I so the two of us wandered the village for about an hour as her parents took care of other business. Looking like a little princess, Piper opened several doors of conversation.

Click to See Larger Image. L to R: Griff, Dominic, Cordelia, Cassie; Griff, Dominic; Children visiting Old Strubridge; Cordelia and Cassie.

The blacksmith took a liking to her and selected her from the audience to help him with his work. Piper pulled the bellows that intensified the flames. He gave her a hammer and asked her to help him create a hook.  He explained techniques and then advised us not to try and take the device aboard a plane, “if you are flying.” I asked him if I might take pictures and he said OK, as long as I’d take one “with Piper.”

Moving on, we stopped to see the cobbler, and he explained how he made shoes and where the leather came from.

RETURN WILL BE NECESSARY

Because we only had an hour, we were unable to see all of Old Sturbridge, which contains 59 historic buildings all set on 200 acres. Nor were we able to ride the old stagecoach, but we did “meet” a number of the farm animals, which included a demonstration of the way in which farmers once handled oxen.

Click to See Larger Image. L to R: Piper and blacksmith; Dominic — right out of a 1790 setting; Cobbler; oxen demonstration.

Because there is so much to see, we’ll be returning. In fact, on previous visits to Sturbridge, Massachusetts we’ve taken in the old village each time, a place we never tire of seeing. Yesterday with the children, of course, was special.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Chicken Alaska

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Kelsey with leaf bug, which she located from its "chirping" sound.

©Bert Gildart: “It sounded like a bird chirping,” said Kelsey, one of my wife’s grandchildren and a person whom I always enjoy seeing. “It fell out of a tree right beside me and that’s how I found it.

“I could hardly see it.”

Appropriately, the insect Kelsey was referring to is called a leaf bug and the more we examined it the more interesting it became.

As you can see from the photo, they blend almost perfectly with their surroundings, and in fact, from some angles can’t be distinguished from the real leaves around them. Biologically, they are also interesting for if an individual loose one of its limbs, next time it  molts it will  have a new one.

Because of these various characteristics, and because they are harmless to people, some keep leaf bugs as pets.

PRAYING MANTIS

Though the leaf bug was a new creature to Kelsey (and to me as well) not so the praying mantis (look, it’s praying!), which is spelled with an “a” even though it preys on insects. Kelsey knew exactly where to find the model for my photographs. She also knew it was a desirable creature to have around.

Amazing how creatures evolve with features that serve to protect them from predation, in this case "protective camouflage.

People who garden organically encourage the presence of praying mantis because they help reduce undesirable insects from building up.  Each year they consume large numbers of insects. Likewise other creatures prey on the mantis, most commonly the bat. The mantis, however, has developed a technique for foiling bats.

MANTIS ECOLOCATION?

According to an on-line encyclopedia, mantises, when flying at night, are able to detect bats through echolocation. When their built in radar warns them of an approaching bat, they will stop flying horizontally and begin a descending spiral toward the safety of the ground, often preceded by an aerial loop or spin.

Praying mantis, spelled with an "a" for reasons that seem obvious.

Though the several insects included here can be difficult to photograph the task is simplified with high-powered electronic flash units, which enhance depth of field. (See strobes). Still, you’ve got to have someone with an interest in the outdoors and Kelsey (and the Connelly family in general) certainly do have that. Right now it’s bugs, and Janie and I are learning much more about this fascinating world – and the stories that can be told about them through photography.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Chicken Alaska and Mike Busby’s Pedro Dredge

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©Bert Gildart: On June 22, 1969, the Cuyahoga River in Ohio caught fire sparking an environmental movement that continues to this day. Though this horribly polluted river had caught fire many times in previous years, because so many other national environmental problems existed in the late ‘60s, it was this particular disaster that sparked creation of Earth Day and the Clean Water Act.  Today, among some, the word “environment” foments anger in ways that almost defies common sense, and it seems we should recall that the desire for quality living once brought many together.

Certainly some of the beneficiaries of the solutions to problems of the ’60s were those people living south of Cleveland and north of Akron, for it also generated a local movement. Suddenly residents wanted to clean up the Cuyahoga River, not realizing that they might be creating something magnificent that they had not initially envisioned. What many forget today, is that in those days almost everyone was an “environmentalists.” And that it was popular to be one.

One of the many bridges that take cyclists along the park's 26 mile bicycle trail.

First, volunteers and professions cleaned the river. Then, later, national park planners capitalized on the historic Ohio and Erie Canal that paralleled the Cuyahoga, creating a national recreation area out of the river and out of the historic canal. Then, in the year 2000, managers went even further elevating the area to that of a national park. By doing so, not only have the lives of locals been enriched, but so have the lives of visitors — curious about what they might find in Ohio’s only national park. It’s a category into which Janie and I recently fit, and now we  too are Cuyahoga National Park enthusiasts.

ENTHUSIASTIC STRANGERS

For the past few days Janie and I have been exploring this national park, enjoying it by pursuing one of our passions and that is bicycling. We began our explorations parking our truck at the visitor center in Peninsular where we unloaded our bikes and struck out for Indian Mound Train Station, located about 12 miles away. The scenery was lovely and the history moving, but what interested us as much as anything was the enthusiasm so many strangers shared about Cuyahoga National Park.

One lady came over to us as we were enjoying an interpretive area labeled “Beaver Marsh,” and told us that once the area had been a Volkswagen junkyard. Then she said that one day, about 20 years ago, she drove by and saw huge cranes lifting rusting car bodies from the mud. “It made me happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

Deer and Great Blue Herons have returned to what was once an area too polluted for most any kind of life. Both photos taken on the same day from along the bike trail in this fascinating national park.

Later, a volunteer at the Hunt Visitor Center added to her thoughts. “The plan,” he said, “was to make the junkyard into a parking lot. But several beavers built a dam and that created a new plan.  Mangers thought the beaver had a better idea and today, we must have at least four lodges in and around the marsh. That makes for about 30 beaver.”

TRAINS HELP CYCLISTS

Today, a lengthy board walk now takes cyclists across this grand example of nature, one that combines with other aspects and which is deserving of national park status. In fact, the entire park with its history of the canal system and examples of nature prompted us to spend a number of days cycling the park from one end to the other. Because trains were also part of the history of the area, the park service has added train transportation that benefits visitors, and certainly cyclists. Between Wednesday and Sunday, you can park your car at any of about five different train stops, cycle to some distant place along the canal, flag down a train and then for $2.00 hop aboard and return to your vehicle.

Often weekends at Cuyahoga attract performers, in this case at the Peninsular Train stop

Cycling then is a great experience and along the way Janie and I saw great blue herons, beaver, wood ducks and various species of turtles. As well, the trail takes you to old farms, to small villages defined by the large quantities of fruit and vegetables for sale. And of course, it interprets the canal system that helped settle a nation.

But it does yet more: Cuyahoga National Park demonstrates the blight that too much industrialization can bring about. On an upbeat note it also demonstrates how resilient nature can be when concerned citizens band together and insist that, yes, there really is a better way of living life. Cuyahoga is literally up from the ashes.

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THIS TIME LAST YEARS:

*Alaska’s Chena Hot Springs

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©Bert Gildart: It’s impossible for us to pass near Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota and not make the 50-mile detour south to camp there, even if it is only for a night. This year we particularly wanted to see these Badlands because everything seems so lush. We were not disappointed.

The park is divided into a North Unit and a South Unit, but this time around we only had time for only the North Unit, which is separated from the South Unit by about 30 miles. Over the years I’ve written about six stories for a variety of magazines and done so because this isolated area grows on you, celebrating as it does grasslands, buffalo, wild horses – and the rugged life of Theodore Roosevelt.

ROOSEVELT SAID BADLANDS MADE HIM PRESIDENT

After settling into a campsite we drove the park road to the Little Missouri Overlook and I was reminded that once Roosevelt had marched two thieves to justice along this river, staying awake reading Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Later he remarked that Karenina was unprincipled.  He also said in later years that “If it had not been for my days in the Badlands of North Dakota I would never have been president of the United States.”

Little Missouri flowing through badlands lush with an abundance of vegetation not often seen.

Roosevelt also found solace here, having fled to these very same badlands shortly after his wife and mother died on the same exact day; and as I looked over the expanse of badlands I could see how one might simultaneously find physical challenge and peace. Before me the river flowed serenely and the expanse of lush vegetation that rolled over the Badlands on our July visit offered a sense of well being. But the Badlands that backdropped the Little Missouri could also offer hardship, something one is instantly aware of when the winds wail and when you struggle to climb a steep hill on a day temperatures approach the hundred degree mark.

On this brief stop, however, Janie and I saw only the most benevolent side. The river flowed clear and blue, bison starred back from shaded bluffs, and soft breezes caressed a multitude of flowers and grasses that bowed and dipped on this mild mid summer day.

And now, we’re back on the highway sufficiently rejuvenated to cope with another few days of highway travel.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*The Park That Made a President

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©Bert Gildart: Back on our the road, heading east, but not until after we checked out a spot on the Charles M. Russell Wildlife Refuge for burrowing owls. We did see one and it was in the very same area where I found one several years ago. Though I was unable to photograph it this time around, I did on my last trip, so I’m including it with this brief post. The image was made with a Nikon camera and a 600mm lens. I also used a blind, which I always carry. Sometime it obscures my presence, sometimes it doesn’t.

Burrowing owl, a common resident of the Charles M. Russell Wildlife Refuge

Before departing Fort Peck I also made a ten mile bicycle trip from the campground, past the Visitor Center and then up a steep hill that then crosses the massive dam. Ten miles later, I completed a very enjoyable and informative round-trip ride.

LARGEST OF ITS KIND

Once this was the largest earth filled dam in the world, but that title was usurped several years ago when Russia constructed such a dam of their own. Nevertheless, the Corps proudly proclaims that Fort Peck remains the largest hydrologically-filled earth dam in the world.

Because the dam is earth filled I had to remind myself that I was in fact riding over a dam, but interpretive panels along the way remind you that the land is certainly altered. Lewis and Clark camped here in May of 1803 and when they did, one member of the party encountered a grizzly bear. As well, members saw their first moose in a place called Dry Fork, which I could easily see as I cycled across the dam.

DAM NOT WITHOUT TRAGEDY

Though most say the dam was needed at the time – and is still needed, all of which may be true – the dam was not without its tragedies, as the other image I’m posting with this blog so informs us.  In September of 1938, eight men perished one day in a massive slide. Two of the bodies were found, but six remain forever entombed in the mud and rock of Fort Peck.

Construction of Fort Peck included tragic moments and now memories

BACK ON ROAD:  Though we are now back on Highway Two camped for the night in Rugby, North Dakota, which city fathers here say is the geographical center of North America, we did make one overnight stop in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It is one of my favorite parks and deserves some mention even though our stay was brief – which I’ll provide in my next post. Today, we’re scurrying around trying to get back on the road and make up for our serendipitous stops.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Chena Hot Springs

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T. Rex at Fort Peck Visitor Center

©Bert Gildart: For those of you wondering about my delinquency in posting let me start by saying that we’ve been consumed with packing for an extended trip east, now underway. Compound that with our current location in  eastern Montana, and, here, the remote setting makes Internet connectivity sporadic. As well, we’ve been scurrying around — getting reacquainted with Fort Peck, one of  our favorite areas in the state.

Fort Peck is sandwiched between Wolf Point, Montana, and the eastern edge of the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge. To some that means you’re in the middle of a vast monochrome of desiccated grasslands, but if you settle in for awhile, the land grows on you.

FIRST COVER OF LIFE MAGAZINE

For starters, Fort Peck is contiguous with the huge Fort Peck Lake, more properly designated a reservoir, but one that now features some of the state’s best fishing. Once the dam creating the reservoir was a WPA work project, part of FDR’s New Deal. It was intended to extricate a hungry nation from the Great Depression of the 1930s.

The men who worked here for a period of about seven years helped to create such a colorful chapter in America’s history that Fort Peck Dam served as the very first cover of Life Magazine. The photographer was Margaret Bourke White, and she was associated with others who have become some of my journalistic heroes and heroines.

Ms. White was married to Erskin Caldwell, who wrote God’s Little Acre and Tobacco Road. Her photos, which constituted a story “Saturday Night In Montana,” were accompanied by a story written by Ernie Pyle, subsequently famous as a war correspondent.

The dam was constructed between 1933 and September 22 of 1938, and if one were suddenly transported to some lofty position high overhead, the Fort Peck Dam work area must have looked like a mound crawling with ants. Ten thousand men worked here and with their families, the number rose to 50,000 people, living in places such as New Deal, Square Deal, McCone City, Roosevelt – and of course, Fort Peck.

T-REX

Since those days other significant things have happened in the area, most notably the discovery that the eroding lands have been revealing past occupancy. Some years ago, a fossil of Tyrannosaurus rex was discovered about 20 miles southeast of the center, meaning that about 60 million years ago this was dinosaur country.

Click to see larger images. L to R:  Michele Fromdahl, Fort Peck Interpretive Center Director; J. R. Rasmusan, fishing guide extraordinaire; bison in nearby wildlife paddock.

Subsequent to the discovery paleontologists began exploring the much eroded landscape and soon learned that the area contains one of the world’s richest of fossil areas. With that discovery, and the fact that the area was loaded with human history and was adjacent to one of the largest national wildlife refuges in the lower 48 states, the Corps decided to construct an elaborate and immensely informative visitor center.

Today, the visitor center informs on both the area’s human history and its natural history. It explains the function of the dam. As well, the same lands administered by the Corps of Engineers provide what Janie and I have come to believe is the nation’s very best campground.

MECCA FOR PHOTOGRAPHERS

From the spacious campground, Janie and I have explored the adjacent Charles M. Russell Wildlife Refuge, fished the reservoir, explored the “birding trail,” and traveled the Dinosaur Trail. For me, photography figures into this equation, and each time I come here I try and create new images, and have done exactly that this time around. With the exception of my fishing photograph of J.R. Rasmuson, all images posted here are from our current visit.

Put in other words, if you stop here you’ll see exhibits of dinosaurs; you’ll see bison roaming a huge bison paddock; and you’ll see the glimmer of night lights produced by the dam’s huge turbines that now help power five different states.

Click for larger images.  L to R: Night images of generator towers, which work to supply power for five states.

That’s only for starters, and in another day or so, we may post a few of my birding images, taken on the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge.

Indeed, this is a Mecca for those with a yen for outdoor explorations.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Art from World Eskimo Indian Olympics

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Image of Manny Curtis shot with extreme ISO setting

©Bert Gildart: This month’s issue of Native Peoples Magazine features a story of mine about the World Eskimo Indian Olympics (WEIO). The magazine is on the newsstand and is now reminding me of what an adventure Janie and I had last July in Fairbanks, Alaska, where the event is held annually.

The story was illustrated with my images and because I worked so hard obtaining the pictures thought I’d share some in this posting. With the exception of several of the pictures that focused on the arts from remote villages, all were action images and several were taken with natural light but at incredibly high ISOs.

ISO is the digital equivalent of ASA in film, and for those of you who can remember way back to the year 2000 when film was still in vogue, you’ll recall that when you used Ektachrome 400, grain started to appear and could be a real problem. Not so with digital images, which you can further enhance using Lightroom and PhotoShop.

The image of Manny Curtis was taken at an ISO of 2000 while the one of Clyde Brown was taken at an ISO of 800. In the magazine, there is no grain and the colors are intense.

UPCOMING TRAVELS

Janie and I are departing in several days for the East Coast for a number of reasons. We’ll be visiting family in New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts and Washington, D.C. Along the way we’ll be gathering material for a number of stories. After Labor Day, we’ll pull our Airstream to Shenandoah National Park and spend about a month updating a book published by Globe Pequot about hiking and exploring this beautiful park. The book is going into its fourth printing and we have sold over 24,000 copies, which is pretty good for an outdoor book.

Rich Luhr and family may join us in their Airstream in Shenandoah in September and if so, we plan to climb Old Rag, the park’s highest peak. Though not particularly difficult (at least, Rich, for a man 20-plus years your senior!), what makes the ascent so meaningful is the ancient rock. The rock reposes near the summit and dates back to the Precambrian.

As we make our journey back east we may stop for a night in Wisconsin and revisit a lovely couple whom we’ve gotten to know from the Airstream crowd. Ken and Petie Faber are also an extremely talented couple, and they’ve been here in Bigfork the past few days.

Clyde Brown dancing at openng ceremonies of World Eskimo Indian Olympics, Fairbanks, AK.

Ken is a retired insurance man and now devotes his time to refurbishing old Airstreams, creating what the industry calls “Vintage Airstreams.” Petey is a retired teacher and now an artist extraordinaire. Though they are a few years older than Janie and I, they are active cyclists, and think little of striking off on a 50-mile day-long trip.

CIRCLE OF FRIENDS

There are some other good people we’d like to visit along our way, several of whom we rendezvoused with this past winter in Anza Borrego. And then, too, we have family in Minnesota, but we’ll just have to see how our serendipitous travels unfold. Several story assignments are pending and if they work out then our route may change, meaning that we’ll have to try and make stops on the way back.

Life, however, is about the present, but because it benefits from the past, I’m hoping my WEIO images stir some atavistic recollections, which is what the four-day event is intended, at least in part, to evoke.

The event has become one of our favorite memories not only because of the superb athletes, but also because we were able to revisit so many wonderful native peoples, whom we count as very good friends.

See you from along the road.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*World Eskimo Indian Olympics

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©Bert Gildart: Judging from the number of people who hung around after the two programs I gave this past week at Rich Luhr’s Alumapalooza Airstream Trailer rally, I have to assume the presentations were successful. My feelings were reinforced by thoughts shared by those who specifically sought me out during the three and one half days I spent at the week-long rally at the Jackson Center in Ohio.

Brett (Rich’s co-producer) introduced me as “a much published writer/photographer who had contributed to every single issue of Airstream Life since its inception about six years ago.”

Airstream Factory tour

My first program at Alumapalooza was about national parks and Glacier’s Centennial, the latter of which included a retrospective on grizzly bears. The second program concerned photo techniques, and following the presentation many said they hoped I might do the same next year but include a field seminar in which we’d all take images — and then compare.

ALUMAPALOOZA

Of course, none of this would have been possible had it not been for the successful program Rich and Brett put together. First, Alumapalooza was set next to the site where Airstreams are manufactured, and I am sure that over the course of the week, all attendees, who probably totaled 400, took in the factory tour.

I’m also sure that all who could summon up the energy included seminars as part of their daily itinerary. Such talks included presentations on Towing, Vintage Airstreams, Riveting, Airstreaming in Europe, Fulltiming, Bowlus Trailers, as well as many others.

Visiting early Airstream models; Ken and Petey Faber, “living little”; Rich and Brett presiding over “Open House.”

Because I was in Jackson for such a short period of time, and because I was traveling back and forth between a hotel and the convention grounds (I had to fly because of personal time constraints), I was unable to attend some of the talks, to include one on Route 66 and another on Yoga. Still, I met these presenters, and because of luck with timing was able to spend a little time with each of these people.

Through this luck, which I’ll categorize as a “random sample,” I concluded that the Airstream group as a whole is adventurous, excited about life in general, exceedingly curious, and loves to travel.

“SAMPLED” COUPLES

Specifically, I spent time with Ken and Petey Faber, a delightful couple who after retiring from one career, subsequently turned to restoring older Airstreams creating Vintage Airstreams,  “Mostly,”  said Petey,  “small ones. We live little,” she laughed.

As well Ken and Petey gave a seminar on Route 66, and they have traveled this romantic old historic route in its entirely, from Chicago, Illinois, to Los Angeles, California.

sKY & slaDE “fulltime” in their 34-foot Airstream Classic doing two things: Sky diving and teaching Yoga, but with a twist.

“sKY & slaDE” was another other couple with whom I spent time, and though they call themselves “Yoga Instructors,” in reality they are much more. Both are sky divers, and sKY (as she configures her name) has made about 1,300 jumps, while slaDE (as he configures his name), has made about 700. As I later learned, the couple also yet another blog, with postings that completely concur with my own environmental philosophy.  Take time to scroll down and you’ll also find lots of Airstream maintenance.

Adam examining predecessor of more conventional Airstream

I met the couple Friday, the day of my departure — and unfortunately at the end of one of their performances — but they offered to provide a demonstration in front of their 34-foot, 60th Anniversary Limited Edition 1991 Airstream Trailer. Their routine combined gymnastics with yoga and demonstrated not only great agility but also great strength.

LOVE YOU ADAM AND SUE!

Actually, the one couple with whom I spent the greatest amount of time was Adam and Sue, whom I again owe a debt of gratitude. Last summer I threw my back out as we were climbing the Chilkoot Pass in Alaska. Being the compassionate folks they are, they took the majority of items from my pack enabling me to hobble out with the aid of my trekking poles. (Note: my doctor says it was just plain bad luck and that I should definitely try again.)

And now, this past week, they gave me a place to hang out after the frantic flight from Montana to Ohio and the discombobulating sense associated with the acclimation to strange faces milling in new places — and the recoup time needed after seminars. So thank you once again, Adam and Sue!  I love you both!

Because of the life style Janie and I have followed, in the 12 years we have been Airstreaming we have never before attended a rally, but after meeting so many delightful people and learning so much we may try working more into our future. Certainly the community of Airstream enthusiasts (many are retired) know how to age gracefully using a premier form of travel. But more significantly, Airstream has a history and certainly a cache. As well, it seems that there is an adequate infusion of young blood into this “niche group” so I have faith the market will not stagnate.

Regrets? Only that I didn’t allow more time and that Janie wasn’t with me to share.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Natchez Trace National Parkway

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©Bert Gildart: Here are a few images that should help us recall the incredible sacrifices our soldiers have made over the years. They include images commemorating soldiers from the Civil War and from WW II.

The cornfield image recalls the general location at Antietam National Battlefield where 21,000 soldiers charged through stands of corn only to be mowed down by opposing forces as they stepped into the open. The Church recalls where a brief truce was declared at Antietam so that Confederates and Union soldiers could collect their dead and administer to the wounded. Nowhere in the history of our nation have so many perished in the course of a single day.

The World War II images are both from Washington D.C. and celebrate our Capitol Parks. Both memorials are relatively new and the one of nurses recall their contributions to the military.

The night shot with the Lincoln Memorial in the back is the newest of the memorials and commemorates veterans of WW II.

Click to See Larger Version of Each Image

Over the years I’ve posted blogs about Memorial Day and about my absolute devotion to our men in uniform. For the most part, the men and women who have given their lives have fought for our country and have done so without regard to their own political beliefs, and so should be honored in that way, which I hope my blogs of the past (Blog one, blog 2) suggest.

ALUMAPALOOZA

And now let me say that I’ll be away from home for the next few days, flying on Tuesday to Jackson Ohio to give “Slide” presentations for an International Airstream gathering, organized by Rich Luhr of Airstream Life Magazine. He calls this gathering  “Alumapalooza.”

One program will concern our national parks (see: Airstream Camping tips) with much emphasis placed on Glacier National Park now celebrating its centennial. In the program I’ll also be talking about Glacier’s grizzly bears and how things have changed for the better since the tragic maulings in 1967 when two girls were fatally mauled.

The other program will concern photography, and naturally I look forward during these presentations to seeing some of the Airstream enthusiasts with whom I’ve become friends. As well, I’m hoping to make new friends at the convention and hope those with whom I share mutual interests won’t hesitate to hang around after the program. I’ll be returning home Friday, the day after my second presentation, and be reporting on the trip soon thereafter.

Looking forward to Airstream Life’s Alumapalooza 2010 — and  all the activities planned for this big rally…

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THIS THREE  YEARS AGO:

*In Defense of Dandelions

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©Bert Gildart: Nineteen years ago today, Janie and I were married at my sister’s in Poughkeepsie, New York.  Somehow Forrest, my brother-in-law, managed to obtain  reservations for us at the World Trade Center where we stayed the night of May 4th, 1991.  Janie and I both enjoy Broadway hits, so that night we took in CATS. As well, we dined in the restaurant once located at the top of one of the  Twin Towers.

Obviously we’re saddened that we can no longer return to the World Trade Center. But our sadness is obscured by the immense tragedy of lives lost subsequent to the bombing on 9/11 and the way in which the lives of so many others were forever altered.

We’re reminded of the World Trade Center certainly because we honeymooned there, but also because of the recent car bombing attempt in Times Square.  From the Internet, I’ve just learned that an alleged perpetrator has been apprehended. Now, if we could only bring Osama Bin Laden to justice, alive  — or dead!

Nineteen years of travel since departing the World Trade Center, much with our Airstream

SHIFTING TO UPBEAT NOTE

On a more upbeat note, since departing New York and returning to Montana, our lives have been made incredibly rich with many travels, and for those interested in a sampling, simply click on the months located in the archives to the right of this post.

A few highlights might include experiences in the Arctic (boating Adventure) and the travels throughout Canada (Kayaking Bay of Fundy) and the U.S. (Dry Tortugas) in our Airstream.

We are now accepting congratulatory  thoughts.

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Snow, we can't escape it!

©Bert Gildart: Try as we might, it seems impossible to escape winter (see-1; see-2). At the moment, we’re attending a writer’s conference, specifically, the Northwest Outdoor Writer’s Association, an affiliate of the Outdoor Writer’s Association of America.

This year, our chapter has convened at Seeley Lake, a beautiful and remote lake located in Montana — and south of our home near Bigfork by about 70 miles. Though last week it was sunny with real hints of summer, this week (and this is not unheard of for late April early May in Big Sky Country) the weather man says we will have snow. And behold, we now have it!

Though we have not been hit too badly at these lower lake elevations, in the higher elevations, clouds dumped 12 to 18 inches of the white stuff, most notably in Glacier National Park and on Marias Pass, which really saw the return of winter. From what the weather man says, we can expect this type of weather to persist for the next three to four days, the duration, in other words, of our conference.

CHOICE OF ACCOMMODATIONS

Though most everyone is staying at the Double Arrow, a beautiful lodge that has offered our group discounted rates, we have never-the-less chosen to camp at Tamaracks Resort Campground, which is also beautiful and certainly much cheaper, an important consideration for us after just putting out a considerable sum for repair of our transmission. But even if finances had not been a concern, we’ve gotten to the point where we simply prefer our Airstream to commercial accommodations, despite the beauty that Double Arrow also offers.

Right now, the deer are munching on willows just outside the window of our camper, and last night we drifted to sleep to the garbled wail of loons. We’ll take what we get and enjoy what we get. That not too hard to do as most of our time will be spent renewing friends with NOWA’s interesting members and attending the seminars, which are always  beneficial.

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THIS TIME LAST YEARS:

*New Book From Falcon on GNP

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©Bert Gildart: Montana’s Flathead Valley has a huge population of osprey, and right now they are in the process of building nests. Mostly we see them on the top of telephone poles, but every now and then friends tell me of a nest they’ve found. Generally, they’ve discovered a pair nesting in a tree somewhere along Flathead Lake, which was the case with this one.

To photograph the bird, you must have a long lens, as ospreys are not very tolerant, and here I used a 600mm lens mounted on a D300 Nikon Camera.

Osprey now nesting in Montana's Flathead Valley, just south of Glacier National Park.

Osprey are unique in that they are one of the two raptors whose outer toe is reversible, allowing it to grasp their prey with two toes in front and two behind. Owls also have this characteristic.

Osprey are fairly common throughout the United States, and I’ve also photographed them in Florida’s Everglades National Park, which is a paradise for those with an interest in natural history.

At the moment Janie and I are preparing to attend an outdoor conference to be held about 70 miles south of our home at a place called Seely Lake. The conference brings outdoor communicators together from all over the Northwest. Each year we look forward to the gathering as we’ve made many good friends and now try to see many throughout the year on a social basis. However, we don’t see them often enough, so this provides a chance to catch up.

SOCIAL YES, BUT ALSO MUCH BUSINESS

While at the conference, we’ll all be attending seminars on writing and photography. We’ll meet editors and be will be introduced to outdoor men and women who would like to see some aspect of their business promoted. Some, for instance, want to see their outfitting business promoted, others their rafting business. Some would like to attract more tourists to their lodge, dining facility and what have you. The conference also provides a grand way to network and obviously to gather story ideas.

Though most will be staying in the posh lodge, Janie and I will be pulling our Airstream to a campground in the immediate vicinity. Not only does it save us money, but we’ve simply come to prefer the comforts of all that our trailer has to offer. Most likely we’ll be joined by others similarly motivated.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace

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©Bert Gildart: We’ve been home for almost a week, but have been so swamped with problems and sad news that we’ve had no time for postings.

For starters, just after backing our Airstream into its protective shed, we opened the slider to facilitate unpacking. No problem – not until I attempted to close it. Half way in I got diverted by a telephone call. When I returned I hit the wrong switch, the one activating the paddle latches, the latches that, when engaged, prevent the slider from bouncing free as one is traveling. Though I’ve made that mistake before, this time it caused the slider to freeze, and no amount of cajoling would close it. That night I closed the slideout by going outside, removing the 10 screws that allow the hinged cover to swing down. Then, I used a wrench to crank (as Airstream directs) the shaft that manually moves the slide in our out.  It’s an emergency procedure, and took about 10 minutes.

On my last posting web designer Tim Van Buren asked if I'd post a low-light image taken during my morning on the lek. Because of the very slow shutter speed, it's a bit fuzzy and is not one I would have shown but for Tim's request. 800 mm lenses amplify the slightest camera motion and that's what happened here. Still, the lighting, as Tim had suspected, was beautiful.

Next day (Monday) I called Airstream and they planted some ideas, but it wasn’t until I shared those ideas with my neighbor (far more sophisticated with electronics than am I) that the problem was resolved. Hutch discovered that in the recess created when the paddle latches are extended that there’s a tiny pin. The pin needs to make contact with another device (which it does when the paddle latches are closed) to complete the circuit. Though the mistake I made is a common one, one I’ve made before as have others, this time my mistake apparently caused a very slight bend in the pen, thus preventing it from making the connection. Once Hutch discovered the problem, the remedy was achieved by bending the pine just slightly, allowing, then,  the circuit to be completed.

TRANSMISSION WOES

The other frustrating news concerns our transmission, which also decided to go out on our return. Dodge makes an excellent diesel engine and is famous for its Cummings brand, but they paired it with a transmission that others have also had trouble with. I was aware of the potential but still, it’s a shock when Dodge repair people say you have three options as follows: One, repair the old transmission for $2,200; two, replace the transmission with a brand new one for $3,000-plus; three, replace the old transmission with a beefed up new transmission for $4,000-plus. We opted for the second option, but only after learning we might have to wait for several months for a beefed-up transmission.

Repair people say that in the future, they’re going to recommend we change transmission oil every 20,000 miles rather than the recommended 30,000. That’s because we use our vehicle for so much towing. They assure us we should get well over 300,000 on our Cummings engine, and hopefully a lot more out of this, our second transmission. Too bad, I told them they had not paired the Cummings with GMC’s Allison transmission, which has reputation as being of the same quality as the Cummings.

SADNESS

Finally, we returned home to discover that one of my older friends, Loren Kreck, had passed away. (Here’s a report from the Missoulian.) He was an icon in the valley. In World War II, he had been a young fighter pilot. Later, he had returned to dental school and then moved to the Flathead were he worked as an orthodontist. He was a member of The Wilderness Society and was active as skier. He was an avid canoeist and spent months traveling wilderness rivers in Canada. He was a senior hockey player as was Charles Schultz (author of Peanuts), whom he once played against.

Yesterday, we attended his memorial service and though sad, we saw many good friends — as Loren would have wanted. Many shared stories, and Doug Chadwick told a story about a month-long camping trip he made to a remote island off the coast of Baja, California. During the trip, Loren was bitten on the thumb by a bark scorpion. Absolutely no help was available so Loren did the only thing he could do. He got into his kayak and paddled with one arm for most of the day, dangling his arm in the salt water, which seem to cleanse.

Like everyone else, we’ll miss Loren, a man with whom Janie and I have cross-country skied and shared many a dinner, enjoying his  stories of adventure and his sense of humor –  good up to the last breath.  (Loren’s last meal was popcorn and a beer. )

On the flip side, the celebration brought together in one setting several hundred people, many of whom we seldom see.  As life-long friend Lou Bruno said, “Seems the only time we see all our friends is at funerals and at weddings. “

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

V-Bar-V Heritage Site

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Dismantling blind after extremely successful day on Sage Grouse Lek.

©Bert Gildart: It’s pitch black and though we’re quiet, a herd of antelope senses our presence and tests the air with a whishhhh-ing sound. But when our response doesn’t satisfy the group it  gallops off into the pre-dawn light. Again, the vast  prairie  is quiet and we walk on, but soon hear the soft clucking of another species.

Chuck and I are hiking this expanse  not too far from Bannack State Park near Dillon, Montana. We’re here to find sage grouse. Spring is the mating season for this largest of all members of the grouse family and we want to photograph their celebrated mating rituals at one of the state’s historic leks.

Even in this somewhat featureless land of three-lobed sage and big sage, Chuck knows exactly where to go. Quickly he finds what he’s looking for and begins setting up his photo blind.

We settle in to see what morning will bring. It’s cold, well below freezing, and we hunker into our down-filled parkas.

Suddenly Chuck is alert. “Here comes one,” whispers Chuck. “We may have frightened them off initially, but they’re back now!”

WORKING INTO A FRENZY

He’s right and within a few minutes the ground before us is covered with 15 to 20 males and females. Immediately several of the males begin their dance. It is an amazing thing to see.

First they thrust out their white chest feathers. Then, they begin working themselves into a frenzy, inflating their yellowish colored air sacks. Sometimes, they inflate them but partially, other times to the point where they look like huge mammary glands.

But they’re not; they are specialized sacs extending from the esophagus, apparently evolved for the sole purpose of attracting females. At the moment, however, the objects of their affections seem oblivious.

Males begin display by flaring tail feathers and puffing out chest. Sometimes it will “pace” back and forth. Next it begins to inflate its air sacs and tucks its head down all the while creating a whooomping-like sound.

But even if the females aren’t excited, I am, and though I doubt pictures will turn out in this low-light condition, both Chuck and I snap off a few images. Sunrise is still minutes away and though the birds appear as dark blobs, I hope for the best and continue with my reassurance shots. Who knows, perhaps a coyote will come along and spook the group. Or maybe a bald eagle will soar overhead. If that happens, I want some recollection of my experience, for these are amazing birds, not only because of their mating rituals, but because of their general appearance.

“COCK OF THE PLAINS”

Indeed, this “Cock of the Plains,” as Lewis and Clark called them, is a handsome bird. Adults have a long, pointed tail and leg feathers which extend  down to their toes. Over the eyes there’s a yellow brow patch which contrasts with its gray head. When not inflated breasts are white, while the throat and belly range between dark brown and black.

Male grouse with inflated air sacs, wings dropped and tail feathers made erect.

Bodies are huge and large males may weight seven or eight pounds, making the species a prize for hunters. Ornithologists also adore the bird, but probably more for its ritualistic behavior. For these reasons the two groups often work together hoping to insure survival of this magnificent species. Unfortunately, habitat has been eliminated and with it the sage grouse has been reduced to the point where it now occupies little more than 50 percent of its former range. Leks, too, are smaller, and in some places once spread over half a mile and were hundreds of yards wide. Here, hundreds of mating birds once gathered. Sadly, that is no longer the case.

But this morning all seems right with their world, smaller though it might be. Half an hour later the sun poked its brilliant head above the horizon, and it was then that two males began competing with one another. Though the displays are conducted for the benefit of the females, males also compete physically, and this was to be one of those mornings.

Suddenly two males begin a struggle that carried them through the sage brush and off over a small knoll. Five minutes later, one returned and resumed its solo display for the nearby females.

THE ALPHA MALE

Only a few males do the breeding, and this huge fellow appeared to be the alpha male; and he was working himself into a frenzy of color and puff. Next to me Chuck’s camera whirled as he depresses the shutter and then held it down. The action was fast, and capturing some of the excitement required the assurance that only a camera with motor drive can provide.

Chuck and I continue with our fast-action photography and by mid morning realized that we’d begun to fill up the cards of our digital cameras. “Haven’t shot so many pictures in a long time,” said Chuck. Then, looking at the image counter: “I’ve taken over 300 pictures.”

Males attempt to woo hens by creating a presence that is more attractive than competing suitors.

Looking at my frame counter I’m astounded to see that I’d recorded a similar number. Smiling, we both agreed there wasn’t much more to do other than wait for the grouse to disperse, which they generally do, about 9. Though there’s no written rule, protocol says you should disturb the birds as little as possible.

True to form by mid morning the grounds were bare of life and we packed our equipment. We knew we’d seen something very special. In fact, some say that watching grouse on their leks is one of the nation’s top birding experiences. (Another can be seen at Bosque.)

I know two photographers who would certainly agree.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace

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©Bert Gildart: Two morning ago Janie and were camped in a KOA in Brigham City, Utah, and woke to a type of near silence that we generally associate with the falling of soft snow. As we lay in bed deciding whether to look out the window, every now and then we’d hear a soft blop, meaning  that a layer of white stuff was probably sliding down the side of our aluminum trailer.

Curiosity aroused, we peered outside confirming our suspicions. During the night about eight inches of snow had fallen and it completely covered our trailer, our campground – the surrounding mountains — and presumably the roads separating us from Montana.

Two mornings ago snow covered our Airstream in Brigham City.

Two hours later, we called Chuck and Gail, two friends in Dillon, Montana, who informed us that the snow in their part of southwestern Montana was melting fast . That was good news, and now, off in the distance we could see a normal flow of traffic, and to the north it did appear as though the skies were clearing. Our biggest worry was the highly temperamental weather condition of roads on Monida Pass, but we decided to chance it, knowing that, if needed, campgrounds along the way were many.

MONIDA PASS ALWAYS A CONCERN

But now, we had a real incentive to move on, for Chuck and Gail had offered us the use of their driveway to park, and if we could make it we’d have a chance to catch up with the activities of friends we’d gotten to know from our mutual affiliations with two professional writing and photography associations. Chuck (also a professional fishing guide on several well known rivers) and I had both been asked to serve on the board of the Northwest Outdoor Writers Association and this would give us a bit of a chance to think about what we’d gotten ourselves into. “What have we gone and done,” we laughed on the phone.

GROUSE ON LEK

As well, Chuck informed me that sage grouse were performing on a historic lek, and he said that if the weather cooperated we could erect a photo blind and see what transpired. Because I’m writing this after the fact, I know what transpired and can assure you (promise you, in fact!) that Chuck and I were able to photograph a rarely seen phenomena, the results of which I’ll probably be posting tomorrow. But first, we have to get ourselves home.

Back then to Brigham, Utah and to the falling of snow… In short, cars on the highway had whipped the roads free and the temperature was climbing fast. Not only did we have an uneventful drive out of Utah, but also over Monida Pass, (Mon = Montana; Ida=Idaho) where I took time to stop and photograph an old barn, something I do ever time we drive over this historic pass.

Well known old barn on Monida Pass.

And so we powered on, arriving about 5 at the home of Chuck and Gail, and bless them, they had dinner waiting and had even broken out a bottle of wine.

We visited until almost 11 when Chuck, smiled and said that we best be hitting the hay. “You and I, Bert, got to leave here at 5:30 to get the blind up, and we want to be somewhat alert.

“Not too many places left where you can see sage grouse on their breeding grounds, and this is one spectacle you don’t want to miss.”

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Jerome, Arizona

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Janie says we're toughing it out in Zion National Park. (Note solar panels and Watchman Mountain on right rear.) Though conditions are obviously austere, still, she wonders if you'd: "Care to join?"

©Bert Gildart: When weather conditions deteriorate there’s not a whole lot an RVer can do but roll with the punches.

Right now — as I write — Monida Pass, the 6,824 foot-high pass that separates Montana from Idaho, is experiencing blizzard conditions, and we must cross it in order to return home. No big deal, we’ll just stay another day in Zion, which has also experienced inclement conditions.

Unlike Mondia, which is getting lots of snow, Zion has gotten only a little bit of snow; still its presence creates even more glorious conditions. Colors are more saturated and geological lines created by the ages seem more pronounced.

Campgrounds also seem to clear a bit, and that could be a good thing as the Watchman Campground has been booked through to November, and so we have not been able to get in. However, South Campground is immediately adjacent to the Watchman and though it offers no electricity (Watchman does) that has not been a problem, even with cloudy days.

Our four solar panels (two on top and two portable ones) are adequately collecting sufficient  energy for us to do anything we want. With them we have power to operate my energy-consuming computer and the equally as energy-depleting fan that blows out heat from our Airstream’s furnace. Even on cloudy days.

Click for larger image. L to R: Checker Board Mesa, ancient snag; Altar of Sacrifice, so named for streaks of red created by ancient depositions of iron oxide.

And so we are warm and productive and have been enjoying other aspects of this park, which turned 100 just last year. We’ve again toured Zion Canyon (by shuttle bus now, as starting April 1 cars are no longer permitted ) and photographed several more magnificent edifices, specifically Abraham Peak and Isaac Peak – whose names are symbolic to the Mormons.

BOOK OF MORMON

Abraham and Isaac combine with Mount Moroni to form the Court of the Patriarchs. Moroni was named for the angel that Joseph Smith said visited him on numerous occasions, beginning on September 21, 1823. The angel was the guardian of the golden plates, which Smith said were buried near his home in western New York, and which he said were the source material for the Book of Mormon. Though the tableau has never been found still, its presumed existence inspired the Mormon religion, which has endured.

Abraham and Isaac peaks photograph well in early morning light.

Other features were named by Mormons and one is the Temples of the Virgin embracing the  Altar of Sacrifice, so named for the red streaks that course downward. The streaks, which look like blood, actually derive from depositions of iron oxide. Clouds and snow of the past few days have dramatized the temples and framed (see above three photos and then focus on image to the right) the Altar of Sacrifice.

CHECKER BOARD MESA AND JURASSIC WINDS

Later in the day, Janie and I drove the Zion Mt. Carmel Highway. Snow had splashed an ancient snag with patches of white and melt water helped dramatize latent colors in the wood.

We drove to the East Entrance and photographed the banding in Checker Board Mesa. Horizontal banding was created by Jurassic winds, which deposited vast bands of sand in what is now Zion Park. Though the bands tend to be horizontal, when these ancient winds shifted, so, too, did the inclination of the layers. Vertically oriented bands are the result of freezing and thawing, all combining (again, see above) to create a checker board appearance, hence the name.

Sunset adds wonderful red glow to the Watchman -- heralding not only the end of the day, but also the end of our stay in Zion National Park.

Our campground “home” in South Campground is back dropped by a huge monolith called the Watchman, and the other night, the setting sun imparted a wonderful red color to the huge mountain, creating a colorful ending to our day as well as to what is most likely the end of our time in Zion.

The experiences now add to those I’ve been enjoying in this park for over 30 years and which Janie and I have been enjoying for almost 20 years. Zion has always been one of my favorite national parks, and the rain and snow have done nothing to alter those feelings.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace National Parkway

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Daniela Weiss dramatizes the 1400 feet of vertical relief "enjoyed" between Angel's Landing and the Virgin River, far below

©Bert Gildart: Yesterday I was joined by three friends from Montana, but what we really share in common is that Chris, Hutch (see bear spray) and I have all worked in and generally explored many of our national parks. Yesterday, all of us (including Daniela, Chris’ wife) agreed: The hike from the Grotto in Zion National Park to Angel’s Landing is one of our nation’s premier experiences.

From the Landing you get a bird’s eye view of features that inspired such names as The Pulpit, Temples of the Virgin, The West Throne, The Temple of Sinawava, and the Court of the Patriarchs, just to mention a few.

Though you don’t have to make the climb to appreciate the park’s incredible red rocks, ascending such edifices makes you think about beauty and our place in the Cosmos. Some of these rocks were the result of winds that blew during the Jurassic Period, some 140 million years ago.

NOT FOR EVERYONE

But the climb is not for people with recovering knee injuries (such as my wife, Janie) or for anyone with a fear of heights. Nor is the climb for anyone in poor shape, for the hike ascends 1400 feet in a distance of 2.5 miles and in the course of the climb traverses about 30 switchbacks, 18 of which have inspired names such as “Walter’s Wiggles.”

From the Grotto you climb two miles to Scout’s Landing, and though the hike is steep, this is not the section that might send those squeamish about heights into overdrive. It’s the next section, the half-mile section that requires you cling to the park-installed chains, least you slip and descend into the abyss. But it is also this section that generates so much awe and that often compels people to overcome fears.

Click to see larger image. L to R: Hike to Angel’s Landing begins abruptly, and never changes; Chris and wife Daniela peer through hole created by drops of water; descending through Walter’s Wiggles and entering Refrigerator Canyon; descending from Angel’s Landing using security of chain.

“Everyone else,” you say to yourself, “is doing it, so why shouldn’t we?”

PHOTOGRAPHIC CHALLENGE

Yesterday, as we hiked, we saw entire family groups. We saw couples toting babies in packs and this we thought was dangerous, for balance is required. Fortunately, we think the couple must have gotten this message as we never saw them after the first stretch.

For the photographer, the challenge is to figure out some way of dramatizing the 1400 feet of vertical relief that certainly had an impact on me. But there’s also the challenge of showing the beauty of Angel’s Landing and all that surrounds it. Daniela (a psychologist) helped as she inched toward the edge on her stomach, trying to absorb all that lay below. And later, Chris and Hutch (our next door neighbor) and Daniela again helped by descending a staircase cut into the stone that tumbles off into space. The chain is your anchor of life.

Descending from Angel's Landing, secured from the abyss by a stout chain.

Still, it’s hard to convey the feeling just with pictures as the scene is comprised of so many sensory elements. There’s the sun beating on your shoulders, the smell of cedar, the sound of tiny chipmunks scurrying in and out of the rocks, and the freshness of wind gusts that can only be described as whimsical.

And then there’s the beauty derived from the Virgin River cutting down into the red Navajo Sandstone — sculpting as it goes — creating spires, and monuments and temples of sand and stone.

“This really is special,” said Chris, now an international teacher in Berlin, home for a few weeks. “It’s got to rank with floating the Grand Canyon, or hiking the Highline Trail in Glacier.” That’s part of the reason we’re spending our time in Zion; to see all this once again. Climbing up to Angel’s Landing really is a premier experience.”

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

Padre Island is Mecca For Bird Watchers

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Petroglyphs provide mute testimony that sheep have been in Zion through the ages

©Bert Gildart: The evidence is there: bighorns have occupied Zion National Park for at least 1,000 years. Sheep petroglyphs etch the patina of canyon walls and by using various means of dating, scientists know they are ancient.

As one who has been wandering Zion for almost 30 years, I’ve known about the glyphs for decades. But I won’t tell where they are; thoughtless individuals have vandalized many of these archaeological treasure, a reason the Antiquities Act was enacted in the early 1900s.

At any rate, because I have known of their existence, it should not have been a surprise when I rounded a corner to suddenly discover a band of bighorns that were almost as surprised as was I. Quickly they scurried up the face of the Navajo sandstone, but then suddenly stopped. Though startled, the band wasn’t too startled, and moments later, regrouped where they then turned to study my presence.

No longer alarmed, they settled in further, dropping down into a comfortable position, relaxing on their stomachs.

EXTINCT FOR DECADES

Though sheep are in fact an integral part of the Zion landscape, that hasn’t always been the case. Park brochures and knowledge I acquired while writing chapters in a Sierra Club Guide to National Parks reminded me that human activity led to their extinction in this park in the 1950s –almost 40 years after Zion was established as a national park.

Sheep now number over 150 and apparently are quite healthy

And so it remained for almost 30 years, until the park began a reintroduction program. In the early 1970s, scientists brought in 12 bighorns, but from that tiny nucleus herd, their numbers climbed and now, bighorn sheep in Zion number over 150.

The band I had startled and now watched was essentially a ewe lamb group. Following the fall breeding season, rams wander off by themselves, but begin to regroup and in another month, so might be seen with other rams forming what is known as a bachelor herd. I know that from work I did on a book on Mountain Monarchs, Bighorn Sheep.

ADOPT A BIGHORN

Zion National Park continues with its efforts to protect its mountain sheep and has started a program called “Adopt a Bighorn.” By making a contribution you “adopt” a bighorn and in this manner help to insure Zion will always have a healthy population of wild sheep. Managers say that such a herd symbolizes a healthy ecosystem, in this case, a wilderness ecosystem.

A small band of sheep back dropped by Navajo sandstone

Judging from the magnetism Zion exerts on so many visitors, it is a more desirable feature to perpetuate – and is apparently a condition in which we as visitors can assist. You can adopt a bighorn by contacting a sales clerk at the Zion bookstore or by logging onto their website at Zionpark.org.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Amaragosa Opera House

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©Bert Gildart: This, I submit, would have been a compelling photograph without the raven, but doesn’t its presence, though tiny, really tell the story of this magnificent setting in Zion National Park?

Yesterday, I was driving the Mount Carmel Highway dominated on either side by Navajo Sandstone, when I came across this powerful sweep of rock and color. Climbing the cliff face I set up my tripod then noticed several ravens flying in the distance.

Wouldn’t it dramatize this scene if one of the ravens silhouetted itself where the sky is so incredibly blue?

To make this picture work one of the ravens had to fly into that precise spot. Then it had to cant its wings else the composition wouldn’t have worked. Reading my mind, the raven performed precisely as I had wished.

Zion, yes, but isn't this image also about the raven?

WORLD OF THE RAVEN

The setting also required the use of an extreme wide angle lens to dramatize the world which the raven surveys. In other words, the story is certainly about artistic lines, but the presence of ravens creates a feeling of supremacy. Though the raven may not rule this country its presence adds grace no matter where it is, and that’s something I’ve commented on before.

A friend of mine, Rich Charpentier, makes good use of such settings as he has recently shown us in a trip to Arizona’s White Pockets. Rich is an excellent photographer and a superb print maker as well. He offers educational workshops validated by many testimonials. When I return home I believe Janie and I will commission him to create a large print for our home use.

As well, I’ll be forwarding the image to my photo agent who has been doing well for me with the sale of images, particularly those of birds. And certainly I’ll be using the image to illustrate a story I am producing for Rich Luhr, and his Airstream Life magazine.

Today the bright sunny skies have been replaced by thick overcast clouds, dramatizing the fact that Monida Pass, the major pass we must cross to return to our home in Montana, is now being slammed by blizzard conditions.

Horrible, isn’t it, that prudence suggests we hang out in Zion until conditions improve?

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Sunset For the Joshua Trees?

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Joshua Tree National Park still provides dark skies.

©Bert Gildart: Several days ago we departed Anza Borrego and the campsite at Pegleg where we had parked our Airstream for the past three months. During the course of our stay we met wonderful people and enjoyed our explorations of this huge desert park.

Over the course of the next few weeks I’ll most likely be posting a few blogs reflecting  on our stay in this the largest of all of our nation’s contiguous state parks. There’s much about our experiences there that have yet to crystallize.

One of the features that attracted us to Anza Borrego was its night skies; and the small town of Borrego Springs takes great pride in declaring that it is devoted to preserving its night-time environment. We became fascinated with this concept and decided that while heading back home to Montana, we’d make stops at areas claiming a dark-sky status.

VANISHING DARK SKIES

Not many such places are left, but several national park administered areas still remain that way and I’ve written about several to include Organ Pipe and Death Valley.

Although Joshua Tree National Park is surrounded by huge metropolitan areas, nevertheless, it claims a dark-sky status. We camped high in the park at Jumbo Rocks Campground and because late campers were driving through – and because the moon was still up – I waited until 3 a.m. to take my photo.

L to R: Joshua Tree still provides dark skies for those camped at Jumbo Rocks; Chloride Production is a lonely land separating two national park administered areas; Mojave National Preserve.

No problem getting back up as we mature gentlemen have a built-in alarm that needs to be attended to several times at night.

Earlier I had found a spot for our Airstream that offered an ideal foreground. The spot enabled me to set up my tripod immediately outside the trailer and then return inside and read, waiting for the long time exposures to complete their course. I made a one-hour exposure, shown here, and several other short exposures using high-ISO readings. Obviously it was the one-hour exposure that created the lengthy star trails. I may show the other images in subsequent postings for they are also instructive.

MOJAVE NATIONAL PRESERVE

Our next destination was Mojave National Preserve and from previous experience we knew that this desert region offers lands that are incredibly lonely meaning that the possibility for dark skies was great. But on this occasion, although the completely isolated camping was blissful, a thin haze filtered in advertising the one night we had for night photography would not be ideal.

Sun sets over Mojave National Preserve, also offering dark sky potential -- just not this time.

But as photographers know, you go with what you have. In this case, it meant the haze would mute the sun, creating a huge orb which I could further dramatize using an extreme telephoto lens.

DARK SKIES FOREVER

Though lonely lands and dark sky areas still exist they are becoming increasingly difficult to find, and that makes a commentary on our burgeoning human populations. Mostly, these growths have occurred in the past 100 years, and if this growth continues, what will it be like 100 years further down the road?

May lonely lands and dark skies be with us forever.

THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Armed Escort in Organ Pipe

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