World’s Eighth Wonder?

©Bert Gildart: Though most of us have probably never heard of Burney Falls, Theodore Roosevelt, probably our most noted conservation president, pronounced the hundred-yard long lip with its thousands of plunging rivulets “One of the wonders of the world.”

Our acquaintance with this northern California park, known officially as McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park, was purely accidentally. Tired from so much driving we pulled off the Volcanic Legacy National Byway and into the park.

The park is located on the Modoc plateau halfway between Mount Shasta and Lassen Peak, and we should have suspected that any area located between two such spectacular areas would itself be spectacular.

WORLD’S EIGHTH WONDER?

Still, it was the camping that initially lured us there, for with the exception of but two other campers, we had the park all to ourselves. Maintenance people said that’s the way it is before Memorial Day and then again after Labor Day.

After setting up our Airstream, we walked to the overlook and began taking in the scenery. The park offered a 1.25 mile long nature trail, well laid out with interpretive signs posted along the way. Geological conditions, we quickly learned, converted the 50- to 60-foot wide stream into wide basaltic plateau over which millions of gallons of water dropped each day.

Hundreds of mini falls cascade over 130 feet

Though water from this falls was primarily confined to two major drops, still there were hundreds of other mini cascades. Together they created a resounding roar and then, as they splashed almost 130 feet into the pools below, a mist swept up and then drifted over the trail below.

TALUS SLOPE

From the pool, the trail paralleled the creek and passed a number of yet other features the park celebrated with interpretive panels. One area that stopped us short was a talus slope created from black basaltic chunks of rock. The sign said that the slope was the result of erosion of the softer strata and that eventually that erosion caused the lava layer to collapse, leaving behind the near-vertical talus slope that descends into Burney Creek. The slope provides mute testimony that once-in the geologic past-the falls existed here.

Talus Slope plunges into Burney Creek

Because it was spring in this part of the country, the trail was also lined with various species of vegetation now in bloom, most notably the greenleaf Manzanita, which in Spanish interprets as “little apple.” The species is fire resistant, and grows back quickly after a fire. However, it burns hot when ignited.

Several other species also flank the trail to include Mountain Misery (other names are bear mat and bear clover), and this is the northern extension of this species. Other species include Ponderosa, and there is a wonderful display of growth rings near the end of the loop trail. The tree was cross-sectioned and then historic dates included. Dates ranged from about 1500 and ended with the inauguration of President Reagan.

Manzanita or "Little Apple" flank trail

Unfortunately, travel obligations restricted us from staying more than a day, but if we could make it through the snow, sleet and rain we’d heard awaited us on several Oregon Passes, we’d be with good friends Sue and Eric Hansen , who live in Corvallis, Oregon. They’re the couple we rendezvoused with in Death Valley.

WHAT THE HECK IS IT?

Obviously, we made it, then parked in their drive. Sue had a wonderful dinner prepared and then, today, we drove the final 40 miles to Salem, Oregon, site this year of the Northwest Outdoor Writer’s Conference. I’ll be working hard the next day or so preparing for a “What the Heck is it Contest” Janie and I provide for the several hundred participants.

The contest is for the enjoyment of all NOWA members and is intended to test their knowledge about outdoor items-and sometimes our ability to pull the wool over their eyes. Some of the more challenging (but fun) items from the past have included the bacculum (sorry, but you’ll have to look this one up) from a walrus, wolf scat; and ticks preserved in a bottle of formaldehyde. As well, the contest includes the usual assortment, such as fishing lures, and cartridges of various calibers.

This year we believe we also have a good assortment (in part because of much help from Eric) and will share with you our presentation–but not until after it’s over. Sorry, but if you check back in I’ll share with you items which are now classified as Top Secret. In fact, I’ll even have photographs of a few of our more interesting selections.

Brunswick Bar, saved from fire

©Bert Gildart: The ambiance is clear the moment you walk into the Palace Bar in Prescott, Arizona. Along the walls, hang images of Tom Seleck, Willie Nelson, John Wayne and others. Along yet another wall hang images of Wyatt Earp, Virgil Earp, Doc Holiday and Big Nose Kate.

This is a western bar–as yet other features attest.

The images and other features are not false advertising; the Palace makes the claim that it is “Arizona’s oldest frontier bar,” and that claim is apparently true, though there was an interruption to its tenure. In 1900 the Palace went up in flames in what is infamously known as the “Whiskey Row Fire.”

BRUNSWICK BAR SAVED

Though the bar burned to the ground, the massive and ornately carved Brunswick Bar shown here was carried across the street to the plaza by patrons. One year later, the Palace was back in business, the Brunswick Bar restored to its original position.

Because of its history, the Palace is certainly a place to reminisce about the Wild West. The Earps all frequented the bar and so did Doc Holiday, often accompanied by his lady friend, Big Nose Kate.

Historically busy–and still busy

Holiday died in a sanitarium for tuberculous in Tombstone, but Kate died in Pioneer Home here in Prescott; and before departing this mile-high city, I hope to visit her site, for she was such a western character, as the picture on the bar wall seems to suggest.

Though the photographic angle down plays her famous nose, she certainly appears to be a woman who could take care of herself, something the movie “Tombstone” so graphically revealed.

GOOD DINING

Today, the Palace Bar has added dining to its stable of drinks, and after taking “intrusive” photographs in the bar (with the manager’s permission) we enjoyed a delightful meal. Janie ordered a bison burger while I opted for fish and chips. Granted, not a very “western” choice, but next time I’ll try and do better.

And now a note on the photography, which was more than simply grabbing snap shots. Because the premises were so huge, I selected a 12- to 24-mm lens and then used the widest focal length the lens offered.

Prescott Courthouse lawn, where "ambiance" begins.

Then, because the light was so dim, I mounted the camera on a tripod and took most all of the images for about ½ second. And, then, because movement could have detracted from the final image, I took about a dozen, selecting for my blog and for my “Prescott Folder” one in which motion contributed to the picture.

Generally, our time in the Palace was in a rather subdued environment, but Janie and I both wagered that on any given Saturday night, the Palace might well live up to the Wild West experienced by the Earps, Doc Holiday, and Big Nose Kate. That thought was reinforced by the Borglum (famous for the presidents at Mount Rushmore) bronze of the bronc rider found right outside in the court yard square–directly across the street from the Palace Bar.

Might the rider have been thinking about trying to ride his hoss’ into the Palace?

Promised Land

©Bert Gildart: It’s hard to say which of the many experiences our group enjoyed was my favorite, but I guess it would be the opportunity to photograph Rich, Sadira (who writes a very interesting blog ), and Janie strung out along a canyon wall that embraces part of “The Promised Land.”

The Promised Land is one of the many canyons that surround Prescott, but it is one that Rich Charpentier particularly likes. Rich is a rock climber and photographer, and for him the area contains much promise. Look at his blog postings from this area, and you’ll see why.

Photography is also the reason I liked the area, and when Rich, Sadira and I looked down on the canyon below where Janie was waiting, the thought occurred to me that it would be particularly dramatic if my two companions would join Janie-after we explored the cave that had lured us to the overlook.

Rich had long ago noticed the cave we explored and as we entered it we all thought what a great place it would be for mountain lions, and Rich said that in the year he’d been exploring the Promised Land he’d seen much sign of their presence.

PETROGLYPHS & NOMADIC HUNTERS

But today, there were no mountains lions, just hard blackened walls engrained from long years of past prehistoric use.

More than likely, this was a cave Native Americans had once used, and there was evidence, too, in the canyon below of their former presence. Throughout the long canyon, here and there we saw that a heavy patina covered the walls, providing a perfect surface for rock art.

Sure enough, as we wandered we found all sorts of strange images, some that could have represented the sun or the sinuous impression of reptiles. But more typically, we found the faded carvings of deer. In some instances we saw walls depicting entire herds of deer. What a promised land this must truly have been for past nomadic hunters.

Rich photographed the impressions, and because his images turned out so well, I refer you to them . I also refer you to Rich’s blog because I think he is a person to be much admired.

Dark cave with blackened Walls

Certainly I admire him because we both share similar environmental concerns-and, of course, because we share a love of Airstream Trailer travel.

A MORE SATISFYING LIFE

But in the past few years, Rich has made some major life transitions and emerged successfully, something not everyone seems to do. Until a few years ago, Rich was in charge of wireless communications for AT&T. But for a variety of reasons the life style of a high roller went contrary to his grain and he gave it up, electing instead to travel the country until he found Prescott-and a more simple style of life.

Today, he is extraordinarily contented man. He holds a less stressful job that allows him time to pursue his other passions. Those passions now include photography, rock climbing and scheduled magazine columns about electronic gadgets–and how they can simplify our lives.

A most contented man

From time to time he also voices his concerns for the future of our environment, thoughts we all shared as we hiked the Promised Land. Because the area provided such dramatic diversity, it certainly was a promised land, one that lived up to its name not only because of its fabulous features but because of the companions who had helped make it so interesting.

(Posting from last year about this time: Spring Awakening .)

Jerome, "ghost town" on National Historic Register

©Bert Gildart: Once again, we’ve been fortunate to have Prescott “Insiders ” taking a little time from their schedules to show us more of this part of Arizona.

Two days ago, Rich Charpentier and his friend Sadira, took us to Jerome, one of the oldest mining towns in North America. Located about 25 miles from Prescott, once, according to Rich, Jerome was considered to be the “wickedest town in the West.”

The town was built on Cleopatra Hill above a vast deposit of copper and today is part of a vast National Historic District. Because of this distinction, plaques everywhere help acquaint you with its past. Once, Americans, Mexicans, Croatians, Irish, Spaniards, Italians and Chinese made the mining camp a cosmopolitan mix that added to its rich life and filled its streets with excitement.

Today, the area is a photographer’s paradise. Gravity has performed its work on some of the buildings, but that adds to their charm for photographs.

SETTING THE STAGE

Rich and I started out with a quick walk around the settlement of about 500 while our two ladies heading toward the pottery shop. The day was warm, somewhere in the mid ‘70s, and Rich and I both gravitated toward all the old signs and bits of nostalgia for which the town has become famous.

We found an old Ford, perfectly restored and images of that seemed to set the stage for further exploration.

Old Ford sets stage

The “Cribs District” also caught our attention as town’s folks capitalized on the period and used suggestive names for some of their business. For instance, the pizza parlor sports images of fancy ladies in various states of attire and then associated it with a banner reading, “The Best Piece in Town.” Rich liked the images and posted one on his blog .

Unfortunately Rich and Sadira had to leave early, so Janie and I found a series of terraced rock steps and engaged in a bit of people watching. A group of motorcyclists rode into town, and they generated interest. Then we watched two attractive young ladies hail down several nice looking young men. The young woman had cameras dangling around their necks, and they asked the fellows if they’d photograph them. Wow, now that’s quite a handkerchief to drop, but if I were single and lots younger that seems like a technique that might be worth exploring.

BLUES MUSICIAN

The girls left, and our attention was soon diverted, however, to the Hotel Connor just below us from which jazz music filtered out and up. The musicians, we soon learned, were part of an on-going jazz series entitled “Jazz Without Borders,” and their blues sounds lured us into the bar.

Expressive musician

One man, who appeared to be a Native American, was particularly expressive as he played a huge bass fiddle. As he played I photographed him, and he didn’t seem to mind t all.

Jazz Without Borders

The town seems devoted to nostalgia and Janie and I walked to the theater shop. Much of the store was devoted to the recollection of old movies, and they’ve constructed an old time theater for projecting old films, one of which interpreted Jerome.

MARILYN MONROE–TRIUMPH & TRAGEDY

But scattered throughout were many wax images, one of Elvis, which attracted Janie.

Elvis and Janie

But there were also images of Humphrey Bogart–and that classic image of Marilyn Monroe with her dress blowing up. The film, “The Seven Year Itch,” was released in 1955 and includes the scene in which Monroe stands over a grate, and the warm air from the grate whips up her dress. For movie aficionados the image has become a famous one, and helped further immortalize Monroe, who has also become symbolic of great beauty, but also, great tragedy, for she cut short her life in 1962 when she was only 36.

Marilyn Monroe, triumph and tragedy

As we wandered the town, it seemed a number of men had long flowing beards, suggestive, perhaps, of a desire to revert to the past. They may also be attracted here because Jerome seems to be such a throw back in time.  One store owner with whom Janie struck up a conversation said that the town was laid back but wasn’t without a problem that seems insidious to small towns. “Everyone knows your business,” said Janie, recalling her conversation with one of the resident store owners. “And if that business raises eyebrows, you become the subject of much barroom talk.”

Well, we’re not looking for a place to relocate, just for places with much fascination. Jerome sure fits that bill and we left at the ideal time, which is that time when you still feel you want to know more–and stay longer.

Note: Here a posting from last year at this time: National Bison Range .

©Bert Gildart: Every now and then a spur of the moment decision opens a window that reveals the amazing impact one person’s life can have on many others. Such was the case for me this past Saturday night.

After making the 40-minute drive from Pahrump, Nevada, to the Amargosa Opera House located at Death Valley Junction, I encountered a group of veterans, all former army paratroopers, who said they’d had difficulty re-entering society upon completion of active duty in Vietnam. Contemporaries, they said, turned to alcohol, others to drugs.

For this group, however, salvation had been Death Valley, Marta Becket and her Amargosa Opera House–and the fun atmosphere this Grand Dame of the art world created. Trained in ballet, titles such as: “The Goodtime Cabaret,” “The Second Mortgage,” and “On With the Show,” suggest themes–and appeal. The appeal eventually become worldwide but more locally, it found its way into the hearts of a group of army veterans.

Amargosa Opera House

The group met Marta about 20 years ago, and has returned every year, basing themselves at the motel associated with the Opera House. During the day, these aging men jog through the park, but come performance time (now confined to Saturday nights), all attend Marta’s iconic performance.

Vietnam Vetran Hank Humphreys

Hank Humphreys, one of the Vets, explained the circumstances in personal terms. “It took me a long time to grow up,” he said, “and because of Vietnam I guess you could say I didn’t mature until my late forties. But then we came to Death Valley, and after a failed marriage, when I needed inspiration most, there was Marta Becket.”

Hank continued his story, and the gist is that he felt a kinship with all that Marta had accomplished.

AN EPHIPHANY

“Marta came here in 1967 when she was in her early 40s,” said Hank, “and when she and her husband arrived at Death Valley Junction, I believe she had an epiphany. They’d had a flat tire, but when she saw the old Adobe structure she saw something that no one else saw. You’ve got to wonder alright; out here–miles from nowhere; the wind can howl and some of her first companions were kangaroo rats.

“What made her stay? Who knows for sure, but she saw something, and she made that indifferent something work. I know it’s what inspired us.”

Judging from the crowd at last night’s performance, Ms. Becket did make it work, and at the evening performance, I learned yet more about Marta’s accomplishments and the lure of her setting.

Sold out

Though now in her early 80s, her performance remains inspiring–beginning with the artistic atmosphere she created.

ART CREATES AN AUDIENCE

Seated in her opera house, you’re engulfed by paintings, and during the performance, she explains why she created them. She said that initially her performance attracted small crowds, sometimes only one or two people. “I wanted to feel as though I had an audience,” she says, “and so I painted the murals.”

Marta’s extraordinary murals

If you have ever seen the murals that grace not only the walls but the ceiling, you know her work rivals some of the most accomplished artists of our times. Generally the heroic-sized paintings depict people she has known throughout the years., and except for one she has retained them all.

The one painting she eventually eliminated was of a business man, who, she says, was a scoundrel. He told her that he would invest in her talents and help immortalize her paintings. In so many words, Marta says the man lied and so, she talked about a grand metamorphosis–and how the wall with his likeness suddenly changed.

For me, that left the question of what her future might hold.

MEETING MARTA

After the program, Hank introduced me to Marta Becket. I asked her if she would mind posing with the red scarf she’d used during the evening performance. She looked askance, but Hank quickly scrambled to the chair over which she’d draped the red scarf and gathered it up. Marta blessed him with a smile and me with an image that glowed.

When I asked Ms. Becket how much longer she’d perform she responded by saying no one knew when they were going to die. By that, I assumed she met “Forever.”

Marta Becket, icon of the West

Hank then introduced me to Jack Meegan and to John and Susan Quirk. They said that Vietnam and a society that ignored their contributions to America, diminished their “first life.” Though they deserve credit for all they’ve overcome, they still say Death Valley and Marta was their inspiration for a great “second life.”

I departed that evening amazed once again at just how much one person’s life can impact so many other’s.

Departing Death Valley

©Bert Gildart: Three days ago we departed Death Valley, leaving by way of Furnace Creek Wash. The road passes Zabriske Point, climbs over a pass and then descends to a junction well known as Death Valley Junction.

Janie and I stopped at the junction, for we hoped to learn a bit more about what has become a famous fixture through the years–and perhaps even catch a glimpse of the person who has made that fixture so famous.

Marta Becket is responsible for the creation of the Amargosa Opera House, now an institution in Nevada. Marta, as the story goes, loved opera, and while growing up in New York, she studied dance, art and piano.

BIRTH OF AN INSTITUTION

As an adult, she supported herself and her mother in a freelance manner. She danced at Radio City Music Hall in the corps de ballet and won small parts on Broadway. But, Becket wanted something else; she wanted to take control of all aspects of her dancing and, so, she and her husband went on the road where she quickly became a one-woman show.

Several years passed, but in 1967, the couple was on a camping trip in Death Valley and got a flat tire at Death Valley Junction. She fell in love with the dilapidated adobe buildings, and in that way found a home for shows. Sometimes, however, her programs wouldn’t attract anyone.

Nevertheless she would dance for herself, particularly during the early years. And, so, to assure herself that she would always have an audience, she painted images of her guests on the walls and ceilings.

Amargosa Opera House

In subsequent years, she became famous, attracting an audience from all over the world. Though now in advancing years, she still performs, but, now, only on Saturday nights. Though we understand it may be hard to acquire tickets, Janie and I will inquire. From where we’re now camped in Pahrump, it’s about a 30 minute drive back to the Opera House.

PAHRUMP NEVADA

For us Pahrump is a place to catch up a bit on stories and on general chores associated with our Airstream travels. Our camping accommodations are a bit different from those in Death Valley, for we’re parked on a concrete slab immediately adjacent to a casino. Across the road there’s a sign advising that we can purchase fireworks. We’re 45 minutes from Las Vegas.

You won’t have too much trouble finding us, as we’re one of the few with camping gear, sleeping bags, and underwear spread in front of our trailer and draped from our trailer’s awning with clothes hangers. That’s my doing, not Janie’s, for it is I who am struggling to create an image. Granted, that may be hard to do with a relatively new Airstream, now polished, but, still, I’m trying.

"Home" in Pahrump Nevada

To get the real feel of Nevada, we also completed the necessary paper work and now have an SW Player Club card, and the other evening discovered that the free card entitled us to a $2 discount on the $8 buffet, which really was a bargain. They understand human psychology and know if they suck us in to eat that we’ll just have to pull the handle on the slots at least once before we leave. There’s a flood of slots between the dinning room and the exit and they know that if we win even a dime that we’ll then pull the handle again. They’re right, and our time in the casino–which would have totaled but $12 (with the discount) if we’d only eaten–actually wound up costing us about $20.

GAMBLING FEVER

They really got me! But probably not as much as they got some of the other patrons who sat on stools, drinks in hand, evincing looks of determination, coupled (and sadly so), with genuine desperation as well.

We’ll soon be departing Pahrump. Our clothes are clean again, sleeping bags aired, truck and trailer washed and the refrigerator full. Mojave National Preserve here we come–but not until we make one more effort to become instantly rich.

Wish us luck, and while you’re at it, wish Marta Becket a little luck, too.

©Bert Gildart: Death Valley is a land of abstractions, one that offers photographers what may well be one of the best places in America to create unique interpretations. Here are four photographs that represent what I believe to be some of my better work from this vast California national park.

Teakettle Junction, 2003

Three of the photographs come from the past several weeks during which time Janie and I have been camped in both Stove Pipe Wells and Furnace Creek. The fourth, the photograph of Tea Kettle Junction, I made about five years ago. Janie and I had wanted to see Tea Kettle when Eric and Sue were here several weeks ago, but we found the road to be in horrible condition. Washboarding went on for miles and each rut was deep, perhaps six to eight inches in places.

As a result, we turned around, not able to see if this famous, hard-to-reach junction still retains all of its tea kettles.

Hanging tea kettles was once an old park tradition started perhaps by some old prospector. Because it says something about old ways and the passage of quirky people, it remains one of my favorite photos.

COMPRESSING SCENES

Two of the other photographs were made at one of the park’s several sand dunes, specifically, the Death Valley Sand Dunes near Stove Pipe Wells. The image of the couple on the dunes was made with a 600mm lens, which provides great compression.

Sun and Sand Dune Photographers

By stopping the camera down, probably to about f-45 in this case, depth of field is immense, even with a telephoto. I underexposed several stops to make sure the couple was completely back lit. The lens I used was not one dedicated to digital photography, so exposure data was not digitally recorded.

DETAILS

Another technique is to focus on the details of a subject, such as the actual ripples created in the dunes by the sun at it most extreme angles, in this case, early in the morning–just as the sun popped over the horizon.

Sand Dune Patterns

Each granule was illuminated, and that is what I believe endows this image with impact.

HUMAN HISTORY

Finally, I include the following photograph because it recalls a TV series, “Death Valley Days.” Ronald Reagan was the narrator and he helped make the park famous. One of the major industries described in the program certainly had to have been the 20 Mule Team wagons that transported borax, “White Gold,” from Harmony Borax. The site is located an easy one-mile bike ride from the campground at Furnace Creek.

Borax Works

Normally I don’t like light that streams from directly behind, but in this case the color of the walls contrasted nicely with the mountains, and the yellow in the Desert Gold plant. The species has remained with us for the entire three weeks we spent in the park and gives every indication of remaining another week or two.

If you’re in the area, you can not go wrong visiting this park, and we leave with much regret.

Eric Hansen, photographer

©Bert Gildart: Several days ago I met Donald Nelson, another Airstream owner, who explained to me that I needed to clean my solar panels on an almost weekly basis. Fact of the matter is that I haven’t done so in about a month, thinking some of the rain we’ve had would take care of that chore for me. “Clean them now,” said Don, “and I’ll bet your output doubles.”

SOLAR PANEL ELATION

Apparently the retired electronics consultant knows what he’s talking about, for although only a small layer of dust covered my two 50-watt panels, wiping them clean raised the output from 3.1 amps per hour to almost 5.5 amps per hour. Because all this energy is free, I now stand by the gauge watching it stream in by the hour. Meanwhile I charge camera batteries, computer batteries, turn on lights–and am amazed the register bounces right back up to 100 percent.

Before any more time elapses, I want to mention again the thought that teaming up with another photographer stimulates creativity. While Eric and Sue Hansen were here, we explored many aspects of this premier desert park, possibly egging each on to work harder as photographers.

It also worked a bit with Sue, too, who called my bluff, saying sure, she’d descend to the bottom of Ubehebe Crater–and then climb back out. The name tells a little about the challenge. Ubehebe derives from a Native American word, “Tem-pin-tta-Wo’sah”, meaning Coyote’s Basket or Basket in the Rock.

UBEHEBE CRATER DESCENT

The “basket’s walls” are, indeed, steep, dropping 600 feet. The crater is 3,000 years old and is one of the most recent of a series of “marr volcanoes” to have occurred in this land now comprising Death Valley. Marr volcanoes occur when magma rises from the depths to suddenly come into contact with ground water. The sudden contact creates a flash of steam, which then expands. When the pressure on the surrounding rocks becomes too great, they explode.

Janie and I are familiar with this history from a book we once worked on about Death Valley. We had fun explaining what little we do know about the area to Sue and Eric who have never been here, but most of all, we had fun during our actual explorations, not the least of which was running to be the bottom of the crater-and then crawling back out.

Descending Ubehebe Crater

We’ll be in Death Valley for a few more days and then we’re heading for Mojave National Preserve, another park service managed area.

©Bert Gildart: According to park interpreters, this is one of the best years Death Valley has experienced for early season flowers.

“This is about the earliest we’ve seen desert gold in years,” said a park volunteer, who has been here for almost a decade. “Normally, we don’t see such blooms until March, which is usually the best month for wildflowers. To a great extent, it is because of the unusually abundant rain we received last month.”

As a photographer this early spring awakening has provided some wonderful opportunities, and Janie and I have been rising at the crack of dawn to take advantage of the morning light and the calm that is usually associated with that hour of the day.

Desert Gold now carpeting valley floor

Though desert gold appears to occur in the park’s lower elevations, we’re finding that it is particularly abundant just north of Cow Creek, not far from the park’s residential housing. Here, you’ll find the species filling the side canyons that radiate off this valley that is well below sea level. We’re not far away from this run of flowering beauty camped as we are at Furnace Creek. If you’re here in the summer, you’ll understand the designation.

PHOTO TECHNIQUES

Because desert gold is yellow, it photographs well in full sunlight–not requiring the use of strobes as do species colored purple or red. With these darker colors shadows seem to block up, but not so with yellow, which can be dramatized even more with back lighting. With such lighting, you can dramatize the tiny hairs growing along the stems, which help prevent desiccation, a necessity in an area that receives but a few inches annually.

Back-lighting is effective

Naturalists say that other flowers will soon follow, and already we’ve found half a dozen other species. Botanists, however, say their ultimate abundance will depend on whether the park receives any more rain. Many natural history enthusiasts have their fingers crossed, recalling the abundant rains of several years ago that created one of the park’s best flower years–ever.

Though it may be some time before Death Valley sees such a spectacle again, for us, this year is turning out to be a good one.

Dolphin super pod numbered about 3,000

©Bert Gildart: “It’s a super pod,” said the captain of the whale watch boat, The Christopher. “And it’s one of the largest I’ve ever seen.” Then we were engulfed, surrounded by common dolphins, leaping into the air, singly, in groups–as though choreographed.

We were on a side trip to Los Angeles to visit Janie’s brother and his wife. On Friday, we had alerted neighbors of our intended excursion and left our Airstream in Borrego Springs. Then we’d made the three-hour drive to L.A. Knowing how much we enjoyed all things in nature, Greg and Susan suggested we make the short drive to Long Beach and join Harbor Breeze Whale Watch Cruises.

MIGRATING GRAY WHALES

Timing was perfect as gray whales were now migrating south from the Bering Sea to Baja to give birth to young. This was not our first venture watching whales, and one year ago we had joined a group in Nova Scotia to see pilot whales. Such sightings are good for the soul, and when they are complemented by other sightings from the sea, the experience ranks high in the pantheon of experiences from the world of natural history.

Gulls seemed to be watching too

We departed from a berth adjacent to the Long Beach Aquarium, and soon were passing the Queen Mary, now on the National Register of Historic Places and permanently moored here, where it serves as a museum ship and hotel.

Watchers silent with anticipation

Soon, we entered open water of the Pacific Ocean, and the captain, speaking over a loud speaker, told us that people on his cruises had seen gray whales the past three days. “Keep your eyes open; they could be anywhere.”

WHALE BIOLOGY

Moments later, Staci, a young lady hired as a naturalist with the Long Beach Aquarium, began making the rounds, explaining a little about the biology of Gray whales. She said that whales were essentially grouped according to whether or not they had teeth. She said that Gray whales were baleen whales, and used the baleen to filter out food from mud.

The ocean was thick with dolphins

But of interest to this group was how to see the species, for we were now several miles into open water and the pilot was also interjecting his thoughts. “We’re closing in on Catalina Island and here’s where we saw several gray whales.”

Then, almost on cue Staci called out, “There she blows.”

Dolphins provided a huge bonus

The whale was about half a mile away, and the pilot turned the ship in the direction of the whale. “They blow about every 10 minutes,” said Staci, “and if we time it right-and if luck is good-we’ll get a better look.”

SUPER POD

The pilot powered the boat forward slowly, and the passengers grew quiet. And that’s when the dolphins moved our direction. Then, for about five minutes we were engulfed by a stream of thousands of common dolphins-literally thousands. Again the captain came back on, saying that he had seldom seen such a huge pod. “Just doesn’t happen all that often,” he said. “This may be the largest I’ve ever seen. This is a super, super pod. Maybe 3,000.”

Moments later, the dolphins were gone, and the pilot turned his attention back to the gray whale. We saw several “blows” in this distance, but nothing particularly close-and then, just about the time the pilot said we had to return to shore, a gray whale rose from the water perhaps 50 yards away. “Well,” said the pilot, “this is too good an opportunity. We’ll stay a little longer.”

Gray Whale flukes

The whale blew again, providing me with one quick photographic opportunity, which I managed just as the leviathan dove again. But more than anything, the whale-and dolphins-satisfied a closeness with nature, something appreciated by every single person in this extremely diverse group of whale-watching patrons.

Rocky Trail to Yaquitepec

©Bert Gildart: The desert has always attracted unusual characters, but perhaps the strangest of all were Marshall and Tanya South.

South lived at the end of the steep, rocky trail Janie and I were now climbing, and when we reached it, we hoped to find the abandoned ruins of a weathered homestead that has come to represent one of the most remarkable lifestyle experiments America has known.

Viewed in these contemporary fast-paced times some would call the Souths and their three children forerunners of the Hippy movement. But the Souths were different, they were searching for a way of life that would allow them to work as writers, poets and artists, and do so without relying on handouts. More significantly, they simply loved nature and for 16 years (between 1930-1946) they lived here, attempting to make their style of life work for them.

The South’s almost succeeded and under slightly different circumstances their way might have worked. Janie and I, who had once lived in a 20×24 size cabin in the Arctic, both believed we could understand–at least in part–their motives.

We hiked on, awed by yet another magnificent desert scene…

NO CLOTHING?

Fifty years ago, had Janie and I been hiking this trail, we would have encountered before reaching the old homestead a sign that read as followed:

In the Name Of The GREAT SPIRIT, PEACE.
This is Yaquitepec-Our Home
And in Accordance With the Ideals Of Peace,
Sunshine, Health, Simplicity, Bodily Freedom
And The Simple Faith In The Great Spirit
For Which This Desert Mountain Retreat
Was Established
NO CLOTHING IS WORN HERE
Therefore
If you Cannot Accept And Conform To,
In Clean-minded Simplicity,
The Natural Condition Of Life,
We Ask In All Friendship,
That You Come No Further,
But Return By The Path You Came.
The Peace OF THE GREAT SPIRIT
Be With You Always

Marshal & Tanya South

As Janie and I proceeded toward the mountain’s crest, we half expected to see such a sign, but nothing barred our way–and we continued on, passing through magnificent boulder fields, cresting to overlooks that gazed over some of the world’s most spectacular scenery.

VIEW FROM GHOST MOUNTAIN

We were engulfed by the Carizzo Badlands, as well as the Vallecito, In-Ko-Pah and the Laguna Mountains–all nestled in the shadow of Ghost Mountain, the actual peak on which they lived.

View from Ghost Mountain

Why in the shadow of such overwhelming beauty where Marshal and Tanya produced countless numbers of magazines articles and well received novels did the couple ultimately fail? Those are concerns we wanted to learn more about, but are thoughts we’ll defer for another day or two, giving us time for yet further reflection.

Janie and I hiked on anxious to see what Yaquitepec, the old homestead, might reveal.

Crossing Coyote Creek

©Bert Gildart: On December 20, 1775, Juan Bautista de Anza led 240 Sonoran colonists through the same valley that Janie and I toured yesterday. Because the valley remains under the control of California’s Anza Borrego State Park, little about the area has changed.

The valley can only be accessed by driving along a sand road, and then only for a limited distance. For us, that distance was dictated by the rocks that began to crop up along the jeep road and the fact we did not want to take any chances of damaging the four-wheel drive truck we rely on to pull our Airstream . Though others continued on (we might return with mountain bikes), we stopped several miles short of the road’s terminus.

Still, our explorations provided great insights into the struggles Anza confronted. Eventually, he continued on with the colonists to found San Francisco, but the obstacles from 1775 remain today.

A CANYON CALLED HOME

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. But it was the valley floor that grabbed our attention.

First, 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 several hours 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.

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

Appreciating cacti

Another nearby interpretive sign proclaimed that this canyon was home to a greater diversity of life than anywhere else in the park; adding that five separate areas here had been designated as “sensitive habitats” and that Anza-Borrego contained one quarter of all the lands in California designated as state wilderness. We understood that part of the sensitivity was out of concern for the Peninsular bighorn sheep, now endangered. Though we didn’t see sheep yesterday, we certainly saw sign.

PHOTO TECHNIQUES

Cacti were dense and though we could easily side step them, we wondered about de Anza and his stock. We had the luxury, however, to appreciate the biology of the cholla and other plants with thorns, recalling that botanists say that thorns evolved from leaves–and served specific functions in this land of little rain. Janie and I photographed the cholla, using two strobe lights, firing them remotely using the built-in strobe on the Nikon D300. (Nikon refers to this capability as its “Advanced Wireless Lighting,” as no chords are required.)

As well I selected the manual exposure mode, exposing at f22 at 250 of a second, thinking that by overpowering ambient light and, so, creating a black background, I could dramatize the thorns.

PARTING PHOTO

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

Plant profusion of the Desert Gardens

Here we turned around, reaching the Desert Gardens just as the sun began dipping into the San Ysidro Mountains. The sun backdropped the cholla, imparting a radiance not possible with other types of lighting.

Slot Canyon Overlook

©Bert Gildart: Two days ago Janie and I stood at Font’s Point and peered down and into the Borrego Badlands. In the shadow of such overwhelming beauty, it seems natural to wonder what the maze of land might contain.

If you don’t mind doing a bit of hiking, Slot Canyon provides answers, and with that goal in mind we drove along another sandy wash, once again using information in Lowell and Diana Lindsay’s book to get us to the trailhead.

NATURE OF THE SLOT

From the trailhead, also a canyon overlook, we dropped down a path created by use and were soon enveloped by steep walls. We began threading our way through a narrow defile the authors’ caution is not a hike for big people.

They quote Mark Jorgensen, the park’s superintendent and a man whom I remember as being a stout person. Jorgensen says he had to “walk sideways and often stand on his tip toes.”

Though neither Janie nor I are large people, nevertheless we had to do a bit of squeezing ourselves. In places the walls squeezed in so tightly we had to remove our day packs and camera packs and swing them ahead.

The canyon meanders and the walls rise

The walk through the slot proceeds through yellow sandstone that rises abruptly on each side to heights of more than 50 feet. In places we saw swallow nests, but other than that no evidence of wildlife. The walk required about an hour.

On the way back, however, there was evidence of mammalian life all around. At the base of creosote bushes the holes of kangaroo rats were everywhere, and in places were so dense that the ground caved in beneath us as we strolled across the desert.

The canyon squeezes

At one place we stopped for a few moments to test the advice of a park naturalist who said that if we patted holes used by kangaroo rats, “and if you pat enough of them,” we’d hear a response.

KANGAROO RATS?

The response is described as having a churring or fluttering quality, similar to the noise of a flying quail. Edmund Jaeger in his book The California Deserts writes that it is “probably a signal of alarm or note of challenge made with the hind feet striking repeatedly and rhythmically against the sands.”

Patting, hoping for a response

Janie said she was glad that no one was around, but she still craned her head hoping to hear some response. In years past we’ve seen kangaroo rats, hopping around, and know that the biology of their desert adaptations is interesting. For instance, they seldom drink free water, relying rather on the moisture in the plants they consume.

We patted half a dozen holes but never heard a response. But we’ll keep trying, for out here in the desert it’s just one of the things sane people do to occupy themselves. Just imagine our response when something responds.

We’ll let you know.

Bigfork Habor

©Bert Gildart: Snow has begun falling in earnest here in Bigfork, a small town in northwestern Montana. Accompanying it, a season of festivities has been kicked off. Weekend before “elves” helped decorate the town with a garland of lights. Then, a few days later, Saturday, December 1st this year, the town hosted its annual Christmas parade.

LITTLE ANGEL

All the obvious business organizations participated, and for the youngsters, it was one of the highlights of the year. Horse-drawn carriages passed down Electric Avenue and so did several riders, but one particular crowd pleaser was a little girl perched atop a large horse lead by the young lady’s mother.

All decked out in white, indeed she did look like an angel.

As well as all the children and this little angel, there was Alan Quimby, a man who once worked in Alaska as a biologist. Quimby, a fourth generation draft-horse teamster, willl be offering horse-drawn carriage rides around Bigfork until Christmas.

Cowgirl Angel

On parade night the local fire department also got into the act, driving their trucks up and down the several-hundred yard-long street that is this village’s main street. Every now and then firemen would blast their horns, and though it didn’t sound like Santa and Rudolph, it certainly added to the festivities.

CIRCLES OF LIGHT

Falling snow certainly complemented the wintry atmosphere, creating white points of light in most of my photographs.

The circles did exactly what I hoped they would do, and that was to suggest that the air was graced by a multitude of lights all enhanced by wintry weather. In my photographs, they added to the array of lights that changed as fast as the twist on the tube of a Kaleidoscope.

Janie and I attended the parade because we wanted to feel a part of the community, and that in itself was reason enough. But we also attended because I’ve been hired by a travel magazine to document some of the highlights of Bigfork’s festivities these next few weeks. Probably, the magazine obtained my name from AgPix , an organization to which most professional stock photographers subscribe.

If you want to see some wonderful collections of photos, follow my link. Obviously mine are there, but so are those of many others, and some of their names you may recognize.

Annual highlight for Bigfork children

CHALLENGING PHOTOGRAPHY

In assembling my Bigfork Christmas photos I wanted to show the stream of lights for which the town has become so well known. To do that I increased the ISO (ASA) on my Nikon D300 to 640 so that it could record the background lights. For foreground I used my strobe. Because the photos are to be used at ¼ page, my settings should work fine, with no loss of clarity.

The evening dusting of snow on December 1st seemed to have timed itself to just the hour-long parade and little accumulated; still, luck has been with me. Night before last it snowed and did so with substantial accumulations occurring throughout the night.

"Elves" ride in Christmas Parade

But when morning broke, the clouds lifted and the skies began to turn blue, and so (for the first photo, above) I scurried to a bridge overlooking Bigfork Harbor.

The harbor represents that point where the Swan River empties into Flathead Lake, which is the largest body of freshwater west of the Mississippi.

Sometimes the harbor and lake freezes almost solid, but we haven’t had that kind of extreme cold since 1998, when temperatures hovered at -30F for several weeks.

Next weekend I’ll be photographing Santa just off Electric Avenue in yet another of Bigfork’s winter festivals. With more snow and all the stores now so beautifully decorated, it’s little wonder Bigfork has become the focal point of so much attention.

Right now the festivities represent small town America and about the only thing that could undermine their charm would be an excess of success itself.

Overlooking Bannack

©Bert Gildart: After two weeks of travel throughout Southwestern Montana, we’re back home in Bigfork, Montana. Friends that we were traveling with have departed in their Airstream for Banff, Alberta, and we’re left now thinking back on all the excitement that our excursion provided.

In addition to the wildlife of Yellowstone, the Wolf and Bear Discovery Center of West Yellowstone—and the enchantment of Virginia City and Nevada City—the last leg of our journey took us to Bannack, Montana, the state’s first territorial capital. Here, legends were made and history was recorded, and what is so incredibly neat about Bannack is that not only is it one of the nation’s best preserved ghost towns, but it is a place where legends really do unfold, for stories are everywhere.

VIGILANTE TRAIL

We arrived in Bannack traveling along a small secondary road that leads about 70 miles from Nevada City to Bannack, all, of course, in Montana. Because vigilantes rode back and forth between these two settlements–supposedly to protect traveling gold miners–the route over which we traveled en route to Bannack became known as the Vigilante Trail.

Vigilante Trail

The road parallels several creeks, and the evidence of digging and dredging for gold is still abundant in huge piles of rock. Back dropping all this were the beautiful snowcapped Gravelly Mountains whose peaks were all fringed along its flanks by aspens and cottonwoods now turned gold. Within two easy hours of driving (lots of stops), we were pulling into the old ghost town of Bannack.

GOLD DISCOVERY

Bannack was founded on July 28, 1862, when John White and other members of the “Pikes Peakers” discovered gold in creek waters not far from where Bannack now nestles between several mountain ridges.

Gold Discovery on Grasshopper Creek

According to Wade Hucke, the maintenance man for the park and a man whose great grandfather once dug here for gold, the original site of discovery was on Grasshopper Creek, but not adjacent to Bannack; rather the site is several miles downstream from this well preserved old ghost town.

Relics from the past

“This is a special place,” says Wade. “It’s a place that really provides us with some windows into the past.”

The State Park provides two campgrounds, and we pulled into the first-known as the Vigilante Campground. Here, after quickly setting up, we began our explorations.

The first thing we discovered was that the old ghost town really does bring the past alive. Old wagons stand ready to transport gold; buildings appear inhabitable, and the old jail, Montana’s first, appears ready to accommodate thieves, drunks and murders.

And, there, up on the hill in plain site is one lone gallows. Though it is a reconstructed gallows, it is located in the exact same spot where many a man took the long drop. Most were deserving, but there is speculation about the hanging of one man.

Henry Plummer (historic)

CROOKED SHERIFF

The man’s name was Henry Plummer and he arrived in Bannack in 1863. Glib and persuasive, he was elected sheriff several months later. What was not known by the town’s citizens is that Plummer may well have been the leader of an outlaw gang. Before long road agents began targeting the road between Bannack and Virginia City–the Vigilante Trail–for unwary miners.

Not all heeded the warning, and one man about to be hung pointed a finger at Henry Plummer. Though not immediately convinced, the vigilantes regrouped for several weeks and meditated heavily. Then, fortified with lots of liquor they concluded Plummer was guilty after all.

Long Drop

“JUST GIVE ME A GOOD DROP”

On January 10, 1864 about 75 men gathered up Plummer and marched him to the gallows. Though Plummer begged and pleaded–even offered to tell where $100,000 of gold was buried–the group ignored him. Story has it that Plummer’s final words were, “Just give me a good drop.”

The Vigilantes accommodated him-but was Plummer really guilty? Today, historians aren’t so sure. In fact, one historian we met in Virginia City believes the Vigilantes may have been trying to divert the blame from the true robbers-themselves. Probably we’ll never know.

CHANGING CAPITALS

Though Bannack holds the distinction of being the territory’s first capital, in 1866, gold was discovered in Alder Creek and the town soon shrank, soon having to relinquish its distinction to Virginia City.

But once again, gold was discovered in another part of the state, this time in Last Chance Gulch, soon giving rise to a settlement known as Helena. Its promise of much gold lured miners from Virginia City and from Bannack, and in 1875 Helena became Montana’s capital.

Once Bannack boasted a population of 10,000, but by 1870, Bannack had shrunk to just a few hundred. Today, a few people still live in the territory’s first capital, though most are state employees watching over the old town and renovating structures that need repair.

Windows on the Past

The old town is compelling and it lured Wade Hucke (the maintenance supervisor) from a teaching job in Nevada. He says that each year he and his family gather in Bannack to celebrate his great grandfather’s arrival as a gold miner.

“With all its history and beauty, I can’t imagine a better place to hold a family reunion,” empahsized Wade. “Can you?”

PURSUING PHOTOS AND PROSE
With Kayaks, Mountain bikes, Backpacks, Daypacks, Walking Sticks, Fishing Poles, and an Airstream Travel Trailer

Nan Worel relates demise of Vigilantes

©Bert Gildart: According to Nan Worel, a waitress at a restaurant in Montana’s Virginia City, the numbers 3+7+7+7 once had–and still have–immense meaning. 3+7+7+7 was the Vigilante Code, “The Code of Law and Order.” If an undesirable neighbor or road agent found those numbers written in blood or red paint on their doors the message was a warning: Leave and don’t come back.

The message also carried with it a time line. Add 3 plus 7 plus 7 plus 7 and that was the number of hours (24 hours) that person had to leave under his own power.

WARNING WENT UNHEEDED

On January 14, 1864, five people were warned, but because they refused to depart they met their demise at the end of the rope. They were buried, according to Nan, in a grave 3 feet wide, 7 feet deep and 77 inches long.

“You can see those graves on Boot Hill located on a hill overlooking what is today our quaint settlement. They are the graves of George Lane, better known as Clubfoot George; Jack Gallagher; Frank Parrish; and Haze Lyons. We know they’re there because six months later town’s people dug up the grave of Clubfoot George, and cut off his foot. It’s in our county museum, and you can see it.”

Today, the Montana Highway Patrol adopted these numbers to honor the First Law and Order brought to the State of Montana.

We meet Nan after driving 72 miles from West Yellowstone. During the night it snowed hard closing much of the park. In a day or two, when roads are cleared, park passes will reopen–but after a week, it seemed that it was time for us to leave. As those of you recall who read my blog on Grant Kohrs , Virginia City, Montana was part of our scheduled trip.

PHENOMENAL MPG

Because the 72 mile road to Virginia City was wet and the temperature hovered between 31 and 36 degrees, we held our speed to about 50 mph, and when I looked at the gauge that measures miles per gallon, I was amazed to see that our Dodge 2004 pickup with its Cummings Diesel engine registered a whopping 17.2 miles per gallon. That’s better than I’ve ever done, but then I’ve never driven a sustained 50 mph. Because I feared patches of ice, that’s the way I drove while towing our Airstream to Ennis, Montana, located just 14 miles from Virginia City.

Departing Yellowstone

Because I once produced a book on Montana’s Missouri River, I was familiar with some of the attractions of Virginia City. The settlement is located high in the state’s Gravely Mountains, which form some of the headwaters of the Missouri River. Waters here also feed Alder Gulch, once described as the “The greatest natural sluice in North America.” Miners flocked here and the restaurant in which we found Nan and all of her history is the same saloon I visited years ago for my book. I’d heard the bar contained historic furnishings, and they’re still there.

Behind the counter where Nan now stood was a huge old bar. Years ago I was told the bar was brought up the Missouri River by steamboat to Fort Benton, located just below Great Falls, Montana. From Fort Benton the bar was transported by ox-drawn wagon to Virginia City–about to become the state’s first, but short-lived, capitol.

TWO STROBES BETTER THAN ONE

Nan had an interesting story to tell and I wanted to photograph her telling her story in front of the historic old bar, and did so with two Nikon SB-8OO strobes to better light such an expansive area.  The strobe on the camera served as the master strobe and wirelessly triggered the strobe Janie was holding. The two-strobe-lighting technique is one I’ve used for years but Nikon made my job a little easier when they introduced their wireless flashes.

Infamous man; famous hanging

MORE HANGINGS

Virginia City is one of two historic settlements still remaining in southwestern Montana; the other is Nevada City, located just two miles north of Virginia City. Though never as large as Virginia City, it, too, had its violent side and on December 21, 1863, George Ives was hung after what history recalls as one of the nation’s most extraordinary trials.

We plan to spend several days here learning more about Montana’s early and quite violent history. Our friends (see previous posting) Rich, Eleanor and Emma Luhr are parked next to us in an Ennis, Montana, campground, and they, too, seem intrigued by all they are seeing.

Looks are not deceiving.

©Bert Gildart: Sam, the bear, apparently was hungry. Entering the compound he padded to a large tree and began rocking it back and forth. Food had been placed in a large sack and was located higher than he could reach. When Sam couldn’t bend the tree far enough to reach it, the huge 1,000 pound bear stooped down and with a mighty heave, hefted the tree from it foundation. His reward was the bag of bird seed.

Shortly thereafter we watched as he delivered on a set of facial expressions that sent a hush through our small group.

According to John Heine, director of the Girzzly and Wolf Discovery Center in West Yellowstone, Montana, eight grizzly bears are rotated throughout the day, and when they enter the compound, they are hungry. Sam was the largest of all the bears, and when he entered the center he immediately demonstrated the extent to which he could go when hungry.

Though Sam is large for a Montana grizzly, he is not an exceptionally large bear in the area from which he was rescued. Sam and his sister “Illie” were brought to the center in the fall of 1996. Sam is named after the town of King Salmon where he and Illie were rescued.

Like other bears in the center, he was there because of some unfortunate set of circumstances. Orphaned in 1996 when he was six months old, he had not learned had to care for himself. Without a mother to feed them, Sam, and sister Illie, turned to human food and soon became a nuisance. Wildlife managers trapped the pair, but because they were trapped in Katmai National Park mangers attempted to find them a home, and found one in Montana.