I am taking a brief break from the desert Southwest, today. Peggy and I just returned from a three day trip over to the Oregon Coast and explored the interesting town of Charleston near Coos Bay.
This toothy fellow greeted us at the Marine life Center in Charleston, Oregon. I think this was a smile, assuming moray eels smile. Maybe it was contemplating what I might taste like.
That we ended up in Charleston, Oregon was a complete happenstance. Peggy and I wanted to make a quick trip to Shore Acres State Park on the Oregon coast. The park puts on an annual Christmas display of over 300,000 lights that feature coastal themes focusing on Pacific Ocean wildlife. Normally we take Quivera, our RV, and camp at Sunset Bay State Park, which is just down the hill. This time we were motelling it and I found one named Captain John’s in Charleston. The town is three miles away from Shore Acres. It was just a convenience— until we went for a walk.
The Marina, that serves as both a center for sports fishing and a port for commercial fishing is quite attractive.A seagull photobombed a picture I was taking of a ramp down to the fishing boats.Calm waters made for excellent reflection photos.The harbor was packed with boats.Huge piles of oyster shells served as a reminder of how important the fishing industry is to Charleston.And these cormorants, which were perching on the bridge across the bay, also make their living off of fishing! Peggy and I had watched this flock of excellent divers hard at work while we ate dinner the night before. (I liked the washed out grey backdrop. It creates a water-color effect.)This mural was featured on a shed next to the Davey Jones Locker restaurant. Humorous, yes, but still a reminder that fishing is a dangerous business. A powerful memorial to fishermen lost at sea in Charleston looks out toward the ocean. The many fishermen from Charleston who have lost their lives at sea are listed at the Memorial. “To the sea they turned for life; to the sea they gave their lives.” It was the beginning of crab season and the crab pots were lined up and ready. Peggy shows how high they were stacked.Crab fishermen have different colored floats to avoid confusion about who owns what.The jewel of Charleston, however, is the Marine Life Center. It has the good fortune of being located next to and is operated by the Oregon Institute of Marine Biology.The giant head of a humpback whale resides outside of the Center. Peggy stands in front of a portion of the skull. I couldn’t help but think of Georgia O’Keeffe and her love of bones. She would be jealous.A number of interesting sea creatures were living in salt water tanks inside, including this unique starfish. (Peggy took this photo with her iPhone.)Another perspective.A great volunteer was manning the desk at the Center. She loaned Peggy a magnifying glass that attached to her iPhone and Peggy dashed around taking weird photos such as the butt of a sea cucumber. So, here’s a fun question. Do you know what this is? And no, it isn’t the butt. We asked our grandkids the same question. I’ll provide the answer in my next post.A sea anemone.And a closeup.I was fascinated by the eyes on this fish.How’s this for weird? You are looking at a snail.A beauty here. Why am I thinking ermine?A pair of sea cucumbers share a moment.Check out the camouflage of this rock fish.And now for some serious bones. You can see why most sea creatures give orcas a wide berth. Just look at those choppers.A “belly of the whale” look. And here’s another toothy fellow. This time a dolphin.But when it comes to teeth, nobody can beat a shark!One of my favorites. I love the feet on this seal!And on this turtle.This guy was crabby.And this fish was scary. I had a nightmare that featured a guy pounding on my door that had a similar look. Most dogs would find the fellow exciting, however. If you have ever cleaned up your dog after it has rolled in dead fish, you know what I mean.I’ll conclude with another photo of the smiling fellow I started the post with. Looks like a trip to an orthodontist might be in order.
NEXT POST: Back to Georgia O’Keeffe at Ghost Ranch and Abiquiu in New Mexico.
With over 1,000 years behind it, the Taos Pueblo is the oldest continuously inhabited community in America. The Pueblo had already existed for 500 years when Columbus sailed for the New World in 1492. When Spanish explorers arrived in 1540, they thought they had found one of the seven golden cities of Cibola. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
Mable Evans Dodge Sterne Luhan, whose long name represented her husbands, lived a soap opera kind of life. A wealthy socialite born in Buffalo, New York, she devoted her time to supporting art and bringing together the artists and intellectuals of her time: Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas, Andre Gide, Lincoln Steffens, Walter Lippmann, Pablo Picasso, Arthur Rubenstein, D.H. Lawrence, Ansel Adams, Willa Cather, Aldous Huxley, Greta Garbo and Georgia O’Keeffe to name a few.
Her efforts at creating artistic gatherings began in Florence, Italy where she and husband number two, Edwin Dodge, lived in a villa that had been built for the Medici. In 1912 she moved on to New York City and established a salon hosting both artists and leading radicals who espoused causes ranging from free love, to Freud, to anarchism. When she heard about the beauty of New Mexico, she sent husband number three, Maurice Sterne, west in 1917 to explore the possibilities of moving there. He wrote back, “Dearest Girl–Do you want an objective in life? Save the Indians, their art and culture. Reveal it to the world!” That was enough for Mable. She was on her way.
One of the first Indians she met in Taos was Tony Lujan, a member of Taos Pueblo. Tony persuaded Mable to buy several acres of meadow land and then helped her plan and build a four-room adobe house that continued to expand until it reached 21 rooms. The story is told, and it may be apocryphal, that Tony set up a tent in her front yard and drummed away in the night to win her love. Maurice bought a shotgun. Whether it was to eliminate the competition or do away with the infernal nighttime drumming and get a decent night’s sleep, I can only speculate.
Anyway, Mable sent Sterne packing and married Tony, her fourth and final husband. With a large house and a Native American husband, she could now focus on her plan to bring artists, writers and movie stars to promote Taos and help save the Indians and their culture. One of her major successes at recruitment was D.H. Lawrence of Lady Chatterley’s Lover fame. Another was Georgia O’Keeffe.
A young Mable Dodge Luhan looking like the weathy socialite she was.The Luhan House/Hotel in Taos as it looks now. Dennis Hopper stayed here when he was filming “Easy Rider” and proceeded to buy it in 1970. For seven years it was more or less a “hippie hangout.” It is now operated by a non-profit as an historic hotel and conference center. Visitors can rent the room that Georgia O’Keeffe stayed in if they wish.A large rooster with his chest puffed out perches on top of the house and serves as a weather vane. Apparently, there was a south wind blowing when we visited.This fellow ruled a lower perch and was one of several brightly colored ceramic roosters that decorate the house.Smaller members of the bird kingdom live here as well. Lots of them. They had all flown south for the winter, however.They likely perch in the magnificent cottonwoods that tower over their homes when they are in town. I can easily imagine O’Keeffe painting the trees.Peggy and I found this interesting stairway at the back of the house…And a sculpture by Ted Egri out front.
Luhan met O’Keeffe in New York City through Georgia’s husband, Alfred Stieglitz, and immediately initiated a campaign to persuade her to visit Taos. Stieglitz, a leading photographer of the time, was instrumental in persuading the art world that photography could be art. Among his projects was photographing Georgia nude and hanging the photos in his famous modern art gallery at 291 5th Avenue. The exhibit was quite controversial. He also hung original art from Matisse, Picasso, Rousseau, Rodin, and Cezanne— introducing Americans to avant-garde European artists. He produced show after show of O’Keeffe’s paintings, adding to her credence as a world-class artist, not to mention selling her paintings for hefty sums.
In the summer of 1929, O’Keeffe finally took Luhan up on her offer and journeyed to New Mexico, partially because Stieglitz was having an affair with the young wife of an heir to the Sears and Roebuck fortune some 40 years his junior. But the bottom line was that O’Keeffe was introduced to Taos and fell in love with New Mexico. She brought her friend Rebecca ‘Beck’ Strand with her. Beck’s husband was Paul Strand another top photographer and, like Georgia, a protégé of Steiglitz. During a visit at Luhan’s in 1930, he met Ansel Adams and persuaded him to pursue a career in photography. Adams had been trained as a concert pianist.
Today, I will focus our remaining photos on the Pueblo, Taos and the surrounding country.
Georgia O’Keeffe’s painting of the Taos PuebloA photo I took of the Pueblo shows how little it has changed in the 90 years since O’Keeffe painted it. The round structures in front are ovens. Peggy and I ate some pie cooked in one. Quite tasty.Here’s a close up of one of the ovens. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)A photo by Ansel Adams of the Pueblo. Note the Taos Mountains towering in the background. They are part of the Sangro de Christo Range, or as translated, the Blood of Christ Range. It seems like a strange name for mountains.Possibly the early Spaniards noticed the mountains in a fall sunset like I did from our campsite.Georgia O’Keeffe’s painting of Taos Mountain. Our guide told us that the early Indians would post a lookout on the granite outcrop to the right overlooking the Pueblo and could see enemies approaching from miles away. The ruins of the San Geronimo Church, destroyed in 1846 by American forces can be seen on the left. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)The ruins of the church overlook the Pueblo’s graveyard. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)A close up of the ruins.The Rio de Taos Pueblo flows through the center of the Pueblo, separating the North House we have been looking at from the South House. The creek was looking a bit cold when I photographed it. Our guide told us we were not to swim in it. No problem.Peggy took this photo of the South House with its colorful doors and still melting snow.I don’t know if the inhabitants regard the numerous ladders used to negotiate between floors as photo-worthy, but we did. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Peggy and I learned about adobe maintenance and repair when we visited the Pueblo. The adobe structures need to be recoated annually with a mud and straw mixture. More serious repair work requires these mud and straw bricks. I lifted one. It must have weighed close to 50 pounds.As I thought of all the work involved in maintaining these structures, I came to appreciate that we only have to paint our house every ten years or so and replace the roof once every 20 years. (Not that I ever lived anywhere long enough to replace a roof.)The Catholic Church at the Pueblo reminded me of the San Francisco de Assi Church.Here is a front view of the church that I rendered in black and white.Heading downtown for lunch after visiting the Pueblo, we were treated to a colorful Native American dance…And lots of interesting art such as this sculpture. Taos is still a haven for artists and writers.I conclude today’s post with another perspective on the Pueblo. This is close to the angle that Ansel Adams photographed it.
NEXT POST: We will explore Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch, New Mexico where Georgia O’Keeffe lived and painted.
The Rancho de Taos Church of San Francisco de Asis was painted by Georgia O’Keeffe and photographed by her friend of 50 years, Ansel Adams. This is a photo I took of the church from the back.
It was in the fall of 1915 that I first had the idea that what I had been taught was of little value to me except for the use of my (art) materials as a language… I had been taught to work like others and after careful thinking I decided I wasn’t going to spend my life doing what was already done. –Georgia O’Keeffe in her autobiographical book on her art.
Georgia is on my mind. I had stopped off in Reno to check out the city’s River Walk on my road trip down Highway 395 this past summer when I saw a poster that the Nevada Museum of Art was featuring an exhibit on Georgia O’Keeffe titled Living Modern. There was no question in my mind. I had to go. O’Keeffe had been a favorite artist of mine ever since the 60s when I had been a student at Berkeley and first encountered her paintings of flowers. The exhibit in Reno was excellent, including several of her well-known works, but it also looked at her life, right down to her unique style of dress and the camping gear she carried when she made her painting expeditions into the remote parts of New Mexico.
Georgia O’Keeffe’s paintings of wildflowers are recognizable world-wide. This 1932 painting by her of Jimson Weed was bought in 2014 for 44 million dollars by Alice Walton, the heiress of the Walmart fortune. The painting had hung in George Bush’s dining room at the White House. Funds generated are being used by the Georgia O’Keeffe museum in Santa Fe.Like Georgia O’Keeffe I have found Jimson weed, or Datura, to be a beautiful plant. I took numerous photos along the American River Parkway in Sacramento. Besides its beauty, Jimson weed is a highly toxic hallucinogenic plant that was used by the the shamans to aid their journeys to other worlds. (More on this when I do my posts on petroglyphs.)This is some of her original camping gear. Beyond my white gas Coleman stove, it doesn’t look much different that what I used on hunting and camping trips in the early 70s.Here’s a picture of O’Keeffe on one of her many photographic expeditions in the backcountry of New Mexico. She called this the “Black Place” because of the color of the rocks and did several paintings of the area.A painting by O’Keeffe of the Black Place that was featured at the Nevada Museum of Art.
One thing that surprised me at the museum was the number of photos of O’ Keeffe. Starting with her husband, Alfred Stieglitz, and including her friend, Ansel Adams, a number of world class photographers were enticed by her unique looks. It might be argued that she was the world’s first super model.
Alfrd Steiglitz met Georgia O’Keeffe in 1916 and was immediately taken by her art— and her. Steiglitz who was 24 years older than O’Keeffe was already famous for his photography and for his support of modern art. He would eventually marry Georgia and would continue to photograph her for the rest of his life.This is another photo by Steiglitz that is a favorite of mine.Arguably the most famous photo of Georgia, this was taken by Ansel Adams.The 80-year-old O”Keeffe continued to attract renowned photographers as she aged. The English photographer Cecil Beaton captured her with a skull, contemplating it like philosophers of old. Or maybe she was contemplating the feather she had stuck in its eye. Her necklace, BTW, was made for her by Alexander Calder. Alas, poor Bucky, I knew him well. (Apologies to Shakespeare.) Seeing Georgia’s photo, I couldn’t help myself. Bucky once hung out in our neighborhood until he met his unfortunate demise down on the road. Peggy wanted me to go cut off his head. Being reluctant (I wonder why), she bribed our neighbor, Jim the hunter, with a can of beer to do the job. The skull now guards our garden, warning deer of their possible fate if they eat our plants. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
My visit to the Nevada Museum of Art started me thinking about our planned visit to the Southwest this fall. We would be traveling through O’Keeffe Country, as they call it in New Mexico. I —along with Peggy’s enthusiastic support— decided to make where she lived and what she painted one of the focuses of our trip, which we did. We stopped by the O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, went to Taos where she was first introduced to New Mexico by Mable Dodge Luhan, and then visited her homes in Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch. Today, I am going to start at Taos with a post on the Rancho de Taos and the Church of San Francisco de Asis. Its considered a must stop for photographers and painters who visit the town.
Like most photographers and painters who make the pilgrimage to Taos, O’Keeffe painted the historic and beautiful adobe church of St. Francisco de Asis. This perspective is from the back.Ansel Adams photographed the church from the back.And from the front..
Naturally, Peggy and I had to wander around Rancho de Taos and take our own photos. I included one of mine at the top of the post. Here are a few more.
I was fascinated by the soft angles of the church.Here is another example.If a church could be said to have feet, the Rancho de Taos church seems to. Big guys!Walking around the church, I came on an interesting sculpture of Joseph, Jesus and Mary.And peeked in a window.A sideview of San Francisco de Asis including the sculpture and window.While I was working my way around the church, Peggy focused on the front. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Playing with Peggy’s photo, I gave it more of an Ansel Adams look.Peggy also stood back beyond the arched entrance way and took a photo focusing on the left side of the church. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Shooting up, she caught this shot of the belfry… (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)And noticed a pigeon, which I thought made an interesting photo considering the backdrop. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I took a shot lining up the front of the church and its crosses with the archway.And two photos looking up at the front of the church.I also caught a photo of people walking into the church for a Saturday service, a reminder that San Francisco de Asis is still a very active church.Peggy took this photo of an adobe ruin on the square surrounding the church. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)And this very red building. It’s for sale in case you are interested! (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.I’ll conclude my post on Rancho de Taos with a final photo I took of the back of the San Francisco de Asis church.
Next Post: I’ll write about the unusual patron of the arts, Mable Dodge Luhan, who brought the likes of Georgia O’Keeffe and D.H. Lawrence to Taos. Peggy and I will visit the Taos Pueblo that was also painted by O’Keeffe and photographed by Ansel Adams.
A sandhill crane catches early morning sun on its wings at the Bosque Del Apache NWR. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
Necks straight out with feet trailing, hundreds of sandhill cranes took to the sky as they began their early morning launch in search of food in the middle Rio Grande Valley of New Mexico. Later in November, their numbers will be climbing to the thousands at the Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Reserve just south of Socorro. We had watched long lines of the cranes flying back to the reserve the night before, burbling away in long lines, and were eager to witness the phenomena.
The night before, we had watched long lines of sandhill cranes flying into the reserve after a day of feeding along the Rio Grande. Enlarging this photo, I counted close to a hundred cranes in this picture alone.Even when the sky seemed empty, we could hear the burbling, almost magical call of the cranes.In addition to the wildlife, we were attracted to the beauty of the area. This windmill caught my attention.As did this tree outlined by the setting sun.The nearby Rio Grande River decorated by fall colors. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
The owner of the RV campground that sits on the edge of the reserve told us we should be at the observation point about a mile from our campground by 6:30 a.m. to witness the early morning action. Peggy and I made it, barely, and jumped out of the RV into the icy air without coats, hats, or gloves to witness one of nature’s greatest shows. Numerous much smaller Ross’s geese joined the party while shoveler ducks ignored all of the hullaballoo and went about their business of eating breakfast.
We were greeted by shoveler ducks, sandhill cranes, Ross and snow geese, and more sandhill cranes. While my camera lacks the close-up capabilities of Peggy’s telephoto lens, it was capable of showing quantity!Peggy provide a much closer perspective on the sandhill cranes. Note how most of them are facing forward, which is the direction they will soon be flying. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)The light changed rapidly from 6:30 to 7:00. The cranes are all moving forward, long legs stretched out. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)We watched as the cranes took flight, using their powerful wings to thrust them into the air. The geese seem to have decided to let the cranes clear out first. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)In fact, the geese didn’t quite get the program and were landing instead of taking off. They would soon join the cranes in flying off, however. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I caught this photo just as the sun hit the reserve, turning the remaining cranes gold.A wider perspective of the reserve caught in the early morning light.Peggy thought that this cottonwood was a nice addition to the scenery. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Looking down the length of the preserve.This fellow seems to be saying, “Hey, where did everyone go? Was it something I said?” (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)The true thrill of the morning was catching the birds in flight. Again Peggy’s telephoto lens was best suited for this. The following photos are taken by her.The one in front is chatting.Even my Canon Powershot could catch the silhouettes!And I was pleased with how I caught this sandhill crane with a line of Ross’s geese above the mountain.And this flock of sandhill cranes caught in the sunlight.Peggy was fascinated with how the sandhill cranes bunched up, apparently working out leadership issues. (grin)I’ll conclude with this shot of geese flying out at sunrise. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
NEXT POST: Peggy and I will visit Taos where Georgia O’Keefe began her long association with New Mexico.
We expected to find impressive stone monuments in Monument Valley and weren’t disappointed. A convenient stump added to the magic of this scene. Many a Hollywood star ranging from John Wayne to Johnny Depp saddled up here and made Westerns.
Peggy and I are sitting in our van on the edge of the Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Reserve on the Rio Grande River in central New Mexico. It’s supposed to be a major winter gathering place for numerous species of waterfowl, even the close to extinct whooping crane. We are watching as sandhill cranes return to the reserve in long lines after a day feeding along the river. At least a thousand have flown by so far.
We were greeted by a road runner when we came into the campground. The owner told us to watch out for wild pigs. I wonder if he meant peccaries. They are nastier than pigs and come with razor sharp tusks, great for rooting up food— or doing serious damage to pesky tourists. Here piggy, piggy, piggy. We saw lots of fresh tracks this morning when we were hiking up a desert wash near Los Lunas looking for petroglyphs, but there were no peccaries.
Other than the train that just roared by and the sound of sandhill cranes settling in for the night, it seems extraordinarily quiet here. If you travel 30 miles due east from where we are, however, you come on the Trinity site where the first atomic bomb was blown up on July 16, 1945, forever changing the world. A bit farther east, Smokey the Bear was discovered in a tree hiding out from a wildfire in 1950, and Billy the Kid practiced his fast-gun draws in the Lincoln County War of 1878. Continue on and you come to Roswell where UFO fans will forever declare that flying saucers crashed in 1947 and the government hid the fact. Traveling the opposite direction into the Rockies some 60 miles, the Very Large Array of radio telescopes searches the skies for alien life and other astronomical wonders. Lots has happened in this quiet place.
I rode my bike through here in 1989 as part of my 10,000-mile bike trek around North America. I crossed the Rockies in one day, bicycling 100 miles. If that seems a bit daunting, like it did to me at the time, the second 50-miles were all downhill. Woohoo!
We have just completed a delightful few days of exploring Taos, Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch following in the footsteps of Georgia O’Keefe and her friend Ansel Adams. It should make a fun blog. But that is all in the future. Today I want to share a few of the photos we took at the Hubble Trading Post, Canyon De Chelly and at Monument Valley. (Written a few days ago.)
Sheep are important to the Navajos, both for their wool and meat. This four horned fellow, looking down his nose at me, decorated the walls of the Hubble Trading Post. He was joined by…A buffalo and…A magnificent elk.Hubble provided the Navaho with a means of making a living by encouraging them to make rugs and then buying them to sell. I was amused to find this one in his home, which is now part of the National Monument. The face reminded us of petroglyphs that are found throughout the Southwest, which we will feature in a later post.Rugs continue to be made and sold at the post in the traditional way.A view inside the Hubble Trading Post, which is still open for business and looks very much like it did a hundred years ago. We bought post cards to send to the grandkids.Navajo made baskets cover the ceiling of the Hubble Trading Post.We left the Hubble Trading Post and drove on to the Canyon de Chelly (pronounced shay) National Monument which is jointly operated by the Navajo Nation and the National Park Service. We were driving along the south rim of the Canyon when we came on a herd of handsome Navaho sheep. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Visitors are welcome to drive along both the South and North rim of the National Monument. Several overlooks provide gorgeous views into the Canyon. Fall cottonwoods added a splash of color. Navajo still live in and farm the canyon.A number of ancient cliff dwellings are also found in the Canyon. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)As might be expected, prominent landmarks are incorporated into Navajo mythology and beliefs. The monument is Spider Woman.The power of erosion on various types of rocks creates marvelous land forms in the canyon. Check out the face on the right!Shamans of Native American tribes were known for the other-worldly journeys they took. Peggy and I thought this eroded rock looked like a window or door into such a world. Stare at it for a few minutes and you may see other beings looking out at you. Grin. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)As we returned to our campground, we were treated to a sunset that lit up the canyon walls.If you wish to journey into Canyon de Chelly, you have to have a Navajo guide. I highly recommend the experience. While you can appreciate the beauty from the rim, being inside provides a totally different perspective! (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Even the well traveled tracks that your guide takes you over provide a unique look.The views in the canyon went on and on, enhanced by the fall colors as they were from the rim.We visited a number of petroglyph sites. The fellow lying down is Kokopelli, known for his mischief and playing his flute, which he used to seduce women. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Our guide, James Yazzie Jr., added considerably to the enjoyment of our experience. In addition to being a guide, he was a horse rancher, welder, Native dancer, and movie extra. His grandfather had been a ‘Navajo Talker’ during World War II.Monument Valley is also part of the Navajo Nation like Canyon de Chelly and once again we went on a Navajo guided tour. This monument is a beauty but somehow I couldn’t help but think of Rowan and Martin’s Fickle Finger of Fate award. Those of you who were around will probably remember the award that was given out weekly on the TV show. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)My imagination jumped to petrified Tyrannosaurus Rex claws when I saw these rocks!While I was focusing on ‘Rex’s claws,” Peggy captured these rocks in their golden setting. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson>)Monuments come in many sizes and shapes in Monument Valley.Peggy and I both took photos of this monument reaching for the sky.Our tour took us to the appropriately named “Big Hogan.” One of our tour group provided a perspective on just how big it is. The hole in the “Hogan” was quite colorful. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Our guide, Roz, broke out her flute and played while we were admiring the ceiling of the “Hogan.” It was quite haunting. Kokopelli would have been jealous. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I found the “Eye of the Sun” rock very dramatic.I am not sure the Ancients who created petroglyphs had a sense of humor, but I often find their petroglyphs humorous. This was in the Big Hogan and Eye of the Sun area.I’ll conclude this post with a view of the sunset in Monument Valley. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
NEXT POST: The New Mexico world of Georgia O’Keefe and Ansel Adams.
They called them Badlands. Early settlers couldn’t farm or ranch them, so what good were they? In time, however, people would come to see their beauty. This is a photo taken from the Blue Mesa in Petrified Forest National Park. One reason I liked it was because the outcrop on the right resembles an early American. (Or possibly George Washington on a bad day? Maybe he was off to a rocky start.)
Note: I wrote this post over several days as we wander through the Southwest. We are now between Santa Fe and Taos, New Mexico— and the temperatures are still freezing!
It’s snowing outside and icy cold. The windchill factor is pushing the temperature to around O degrees F (17.7 C). Quivera the Van is not happy. I bought chains for her yesterday with the fervent hope that I won’t have to use them. I’ll do almost anything to avoid that nasty chore. Right now, that suggests heading south, even if it means skipping Mesa Verde National Park where we were going today. Getting there involves climbing up steep mountain roads that are now obscured by dark, threatening clouds. We aren’t terribly disappointed. We’ve already been there twice and we’ve seen a number of Anasazi ruins perched on cliffs over the past week (although not as impressive as Mesa Verde).
Even heading south from Colorado into New Mexico won’t avoid the freezing temperatures. A record-breaking blast of arctic air reaches all the way to the Mexican Border.
In my last post I shared a few of Peggy’s Grand Canyon photos. From there we went to Flagstaff, Arizona where we bought a new iPhone for Peggy and house battery for Quivera. Peggy was holding her warped, 6-year-old iPhone together with a plastic clip. The house battery was refusing to last longer than a few hours. While Peggy was busy playing with her new toy, I was left out in the cold changing the battery. It wasn’t hard. I just had to make sure that the positive and negative cables were hooked up to the right posts. But I tend to regard fixing things mechanical right up there with putting chains on in a freezing snowstorm. The good news is that I didn’t electrocute myself or burn up Quivera. More to the point, we now have power when we aren’t hooked up to electricity. I was quite proud of myself. Peggy was amazed.
Here’s Peggy with her clipped together iPhone. It really was time to buy a new one.
Flagstaff is a pleasant town with good restaurants and bookstores. It is nestled at the base of the San Francisco Mountains that are regarded as sacred by a number of Native American tribes in the area. Kachinas (Navajo spirits) are said to wander the mountains and do bad things to folks who find themselves lost up there, especially in snowstorms. I once spent a week by myself camping and hiking on the 12,000-foot Humphreys peak which is part of the range. I was quite careful. It isn’t smart to irritate a Kachina.
Our son Tony and his wife Cammie spent some time living in Flagstaff while he was flying tourists by helicopter over the Grand Canyon and into the Havasupai Indian Reservation down inside the Canyon. He flew Peggy and me into the reservation like the former multi-tour Marine pilot he was and put on the theme to Star Wars for inspiration. Imagination runs wild in this family.
Most of the areas we have visited so far on our Southwest journey deserve blogs on their own and will get them. For now, here is a sample of the photos Peggy and I have taken over the last few days of the incredibly beautiful and often intriguing Southwest. For example, have you ever sat on a hundred foot petrified tree? Think of these pictures as hors d’oeuvres. The main course and dessert will come later. Today I am going to feature Walnut Canyon National Monument, the Painted Desert, and the Petrified Forest National Park.
If you look way down toward the end of this 100 foot petrified tree, you will see a tiny me straddling the log. It wasn’t the softest seat I have ever had. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
Walnut Canyon National Monument is a few miles east of Flagstaff, Arizona just off of Interstate 40. I’ve passed by it a dozen times over the years on my way somewhere else and never stopped. I was always curious, however. Peggy and I made it a priority, this time.
What I didn’t realize was that Walnut Canyon features cliff dwellings of the ancient Anasazi people of the Southwest who made their homes here around 1100-1200 CE. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)The varying erosion rates of different limestones provided a convenient shelf for the Anasazi to build their homes complete with ceilings and floors. By following the shelf around the canyon you can see a number of more homes. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Peggy and I climbed down 273 steps to reach the cliff dwellings. This is a view of Walnut Canyon. below where the cliff dwellings were located. Trees added a bit of fall color.We were amused at this sign located at the head of the stairs going into the canyon.Here, I am sitting inside of one of the dwellings. This was more likely a storage room where things like water would be stored in large jars. The Anasazi had to climb down the steep walls of the canyon to fetch water. During the dry season, they had to store enough to last up to 100 days. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)This provides a view of a larger room that could accommodate a family. Weather permitting, it is assumed that people were outside a good deal of the time.A number of families might share a section of cliff in Walnut Canyon as this picture demonstrates. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)We had a pleasant walk along the trail while we were checking out the cliff dwellings. Then it was time to climb back up the 273 steps! Another visitor slipped into this picture. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
A hundred miles east of Walnut Canyon on I-40 we came to the Petrified Forest National Park. The road takes you through the Painted Desert, which is part of the Park. As we drove in, we were greeted by a raven. They seemed to be following us around. We’d met several up at the Grand Canyon. Actually, they gather where there are tourists, hoping for a hand out.
Ravens are clever birds. Had this guy figured out to wait where people had to stop? Plus he was doing what the Grand Canyon ravens do: Provide a photo-op and expect payment in food. I told him “No snacks” and he flew away in disgust, croaking a Poe-like “Never more!”I took this photo of the Painted Desert in the morning about 11:00 as we were driving into the Park.When we came back through in the afternoon, there was more color but still not as rich as it would be at sunset.The Petrified Forest National Park is the only national park that historic Route 66 passed through. This 1932 Studebaker in the park commemorates the highway.Ancient Americans also made their home in the Petrified Forest National Park. This one is known as the Puerco Pueblo since it is located along the Puerco River. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Peggy caught these cottonwoods growing near the Puerco Pueblo, a tell-tale sign of water in desert country.We consider finding and photographing petroglyphs something of a hobby. This one of a large bird with a frog speared on its beak is almost iconic. It was located along with a number of others next to the Puerco Pueblo. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)This rather charming couple that caught our attention was found just down the road from the Puerco Pueblo on what is known as Newspaper Rock. (There are other newspaper rocks.) I also liked the skinny coyote off to the right. He reminded me of Wiley Coyote about to take off after Road Runner. Known as the Teepees for their structure, the various colors represent different environments down through the ages from deserts, to seas, to rivers and tropical forests.Driving off of the main road and up onto the Blue Mesa in the Park is a real treat. Seeing massive petrified logs resting on rocks would be reason enough to make the detour. A dry wash works its way off into the desert. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I was captured by the beauty and unusual land formations of the area.Peggy and I followed a trail off of the Blue Mesa and into the canyon where I took a photo of her hiking for perspective. She was hoofing it. Peggy has always hiked fast and I don’t see any sign of her 69 years slowing her down!Peggy found this stump of petrified wood on our hike that provided a shark contrast to the blue grey of the canyon.I always enjoy slipping in a black and white rendition of a photo on my posts. This one was from the rim of the Blue Mesa looking down into the valley that Peggy and I hiked through.People primarily come to Petrified National Forest to see the petrified wood. No surprise there. And they aren’t disappointed. It is everywhere and in large quantities as this photo with Peggy demonstrates.This photo provides another perspective of how much petrified wood there is in the park. We were along a trail that leads through what is called the Crystal Forest. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I was fascinated how faithfully the the bark was preserved on these ancient trees from millions of years ago.I’ll use this final photo by Peggy to wrap up our visit to the Petrified Forest National Park for now. The natural way that petrified wood splits provides beautiful views of the inner wood. And every one is different! We have several photos to prove it.
NEXT POST: I will feature photos from our trips into Canyon De Chelly and Monument Valley. And since I am finishing this post on Halloween, I decided to post this photo I took in Monument Valley.
I thought this monument looked skull-like enough to make it into my Halloween collection of rocks. Hope you enjoyed your ghostly encounters.
The incredible beauty of the Grand Canyon combined with its geological history and opportunity for adventure have pulled Peggy and me back time and time again. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
Peggy and I are now finishing up the first week of our Southwest tour and I decided it was time to give you a taste of things to come. Today, I am featuring photos by Peggy that she took on Saturday. All of these are from overlooks along the West Rim Drive between the Grand Canyon Village and Hermit’s Rest. Peggy is using our EOS Rebel T6i with its 16-300 Tamron telephoto lens.
We arrived at our campground in the park around one pm on Saturday and immediately set off to catch the shuttle bus out to Hermit’s rest. The West Rim drive is closed to autos. The bus makes several stops at key overlooks. Visitors are free to get off the bus, hang around as long as they want, and then catch another bus. They run every 10-15 minutes. We took the bus out to Powell Point and then hiked the Rim Trail to Mojave Point. There, we caught another bus out to Hermit’s Rest. After that we took a bus back to Mojave Point for sunset.
Well, most of the photos are by Peggy. (grin) This is not a selfie. Here she is sitting up on the memorial at Powell Point. I am using our Canon Power Shot G9X, the camera I took with me when I hiked down the PCT last year. While it lacks the lens and capabilities of our Canon Rebel, it still does a credible job.This is looking back at Powell Point from along the Rim Trail. You can see the memorial on top and the tiny people checking out the views. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I have never seen a view of the Grand Canyon that isn’t scenic. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)We often include trees to to add variety to our photos. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)And since Peggy is taking the photos, I often end up in the tree shots. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Turn about is fair play, of course.This ridge made it into several of our photos because of its dramatic color. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)In addition to the grand views one gets by looking across the canyon, there are always interesting sights looking down. It’s good to avoid getting too close to the edge! Several people fall off every year taking selfies of themselves while standing as close as they can get. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)This photo was of interest because of four things. One, it shows the massive Red Wall that makes its way all around the canyon. Two, the dark spot you see in the Red Wall was where a condor was spotted. Three, the trail you see in the distance, marks my first ever trip into the Canyon. I rode down on a mule and was sore for days after. Finally, you can see the Colorado River. Peggy and I did an 18 day raft trip down it several years ago. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Out at Hermit’s Rest, Peggy took a photo of me taking a photo. Can you guess what I am taking a picture of? (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Here’s what I was capturing.Back at Mojave Point, the sun was preparing to set. Note the tower to the left. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)It turns from a reddish orange… (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)To a deeper red. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)The rock outcrop on the right also caught our attention with its deep golden color.. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I’ll conclude with Peggy’s photo of the outcrop as darkness fell across the Canyon while the sun caught it full on, creating a magical moment. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
NEXT POSTS: As you might imagine, we have much more on the Canyon and will be doing future posts as part of our National Park series. For now, we will provide snippets of our journey as we move along.
My limping laptop seemed like a minor problem in comparison to the Thomas Flyer being stuck in the snow during the 1908 NYC to Paris auto race. (National Archives photo)
I thought that normalcy had returned, that I could get back to putting up posts and reading blogs and commenting on posts and responding to comments. Ha! The keys on my laptop went bad. So I jumped to my backup computer. Bad decision. It crashed. Not just crashed, mind you, but crashed with two long posts I had just written about the 1908 22,000 mile automobile race from New York to Paris. It was a doozy. The race started in February— and no one had ever driven across the US in winter. Then the cars were transferred to Siberia by ship for the next leg! I became interested in the race when I found the actual vehicle that won, a 1907 Thomas Flyer, in the National Auto Museum in Reno when I was traveling down Highway 395.
The Tomas Flyer at the National Automobile Museum in Reno, Nevada.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the clock was ticking. Peggy and I are taking off on a one month trip through Arizona and New Mexico and it looked like I would be computer-less. Horror of horrors! So I went out and bought a new MacBook Pro. It arrived yesterday. We leave tomorrow. I couldn’t have cut it much closer.
It’a a beauty. The screen features a sand dune that adjusts to ambient light. Makes me want to head back to Death Valley. It’s so fast, I’ve named it Jack, as in jack rabbit. I have another Jack name for it when it misbehaves…
I’ll rewrite my auto race stories but I just wanted to give you an update on why I am still playing hooky from the web. Here are a few recent photos…
I know, I post lots of photos of cute deer, but check out how this young fellow has his legs crossed. It was like he was posing for me. Hemp, hemp, hooray! I think Jackson County is vying for hemp capitol of the world. Peggy and I counted 20 farms between Medford and our home. Last year, there was one.Our book club made its annual visit to our house in September. We are now celebrating being together for 31 years— the same five couples! This is Peggy with the book club founder, Ken Lake.It can be disconcerting when you look out your window and see this, as we did two days ago. A fire was raging less than a mile away. Fortunately the forest service had warned us that it was doing a controlled burn. Here’s to keeping it controlled.Another photo of the controlled burn. My last shot for now.
Board sidewalks in Virginia City, Nevada that once kept the town’s residents out of the dirt, dust, horse poop and mud, now add an element of charm and authenticity to the old west town whose silver fortunes helped make Nevada a state and build San Francisco. The sign promised you could “See the Silver Queen dressed in 3,261 Silver Dollars.”
“To find a petrified man, or break a stranger’s leg, or cave an imaginary mine, or discover some dead Indians in a Gold Hill tunnel, or massacre a family at Dutch Nick’s, were feats and calamities that we never hesitated about devising when the public needed matters of thrilling interest for breakfast. The seemingly tranquil Enterprise office was a ghastly factory of slaughter, mutilation and general destruction in those days.” Mark Twain on his creative days of writing “fake news” as a reporter for the “Territorial Enterprise” in Virginia City during the 1860s.
Twain took full advantage of people’s fascination with macabre as a journalist in Virginia City, creating events if the news of the day was boring. I wondered what he would have made of this woman’s skull I found staring out at me from one of the shops. I arbitrarily decided he would whip out a tale about a love affair gone wrong. Sex and murder are bound to draw the reader’s attention. Then I saw another skull in the window and decided the woman was yelling…BAD DOG!I suspect that Twain would have made an interesting story out of this Virginia City coach as well. My thought is that he would have tied it in to how long you had to wait to cross the main street that was clogged with ore carrying wagons.
Quivera, our 21 foot RV, was whining again as I drove her up the curvy, steep Geiger Grade to Virginia City from Highway 395. “Stop complaining,” I told her, “or we will go explore more four-wheel drive dirt roads.” She piped down immediately.
The town is perched on the edge of Mt. Davidson at an elevation of 6, 140 feet, providing dramatic views of the surrounding country.
The hills behind the picaresque St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Virginia City seem to stretch off into infinity.Another view of distant vistas. This one includes Sugarloaf Mountain. Dozens of mines once climbed up the slopes and spread throughout the Six Mile Canyon that stretches through this area.
It all started with a gold rush in 1859. There was a lot, but it was mixed in with a chunky black rock that resisted being separated from the gold. As it turns out, the dark rock was silver ore and it was much more plentiful than the gold. The ore was part of the famed Comstock Lode, the first major silver strike in the US. It was a strike that would create several millionaires, help fund the building of San Francisco, provide the North with much needed cash during the Civil War, serve as an impetus for creating the state of Nevada, and lead to the founding of Virginia City.
Samuel Clemens arrived in Carson City, Nevada by stage coach in 1861 with his brother Orion who had been awarded a plum position as secretary to the Territorial Governor of Nevada. Orion had earned his appointment by working in Abe Lincoln’s campaign for President. He invited his brother along to serve as his own secretary. Samuel found the job a bit tame for his creative imagination, however, especially given all the ‘get rich quick’ schemes that were floating around in the West. His first effort was to run a logging operation at the still wild Lake Tahoe. Lumber was in high demand. That adventure ended with his campfire escaping and burning down the trees he planned to log— plus a substantial part of the surrounding forests. He then decided he would try his luck mining for gold and silver, an effort that had similar results for him, except he didn’t burn down any more forests.
The Territorial Enterprise newspaper out of Virginia City saved Clemens from his life of toil in 1862. It also provided him with his life-long calling. The editor had been impressed with several ‘letters to the editor’ he had written and invited him to write for the paper and serve as city editor in Virginia City. He was soon earning an impressive forty dollars a week and had taken on a pen name, Mark Twain. As he notes in Roughing It, his delightful book about his adventures in the West, he rarely took his pay. He didn’t need to. Reporting was a profitable business. There were hundreds of wildcat mines that stood little chance of making a profit. Not to worry. Miners would select a snazzy name and then print up fancy stock. A favorable article in the newspaper would almost guarantee that the stock could then be sold for hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Miners lined up eagerly at Twain’s door hoping for positive articles and paying him in stock to assure that the article was written. Forty dollars a week was chump change.
Twain remained in Virginia City from 1862 to 1864 before heading west into California. Virginia City continued to grow and prosper into the late 1870s reaching a population of some 25,000 people. A massive fire wiped out the town in 1875 but it was rebuilt within a year. Most of the historical buildings found in Virginia City today are from the post-fire era. There are some beauties!
The Victorian Savage Mansion served as both a home and office for the Savage Mine. President Ulysses S. Grant gave a speech from the second floor balcony. The town’s main street runs above the house.This is what the mansion looks like from above.The Forth Ward School was a symbol of pride for Virginia City. Capable of holding over a thousand students, it utilized modern education techniques such as team teaching.A side view of the Forth Ward School. It now serves as a museum. A major mine was located across the street.This early photo of the Choller pit mine and the Fourth Ward School.The Storey County Court House is another attractive building found in Virginia City.A front view with the building date prominently displayed. A sign on the front door reported that DMV was closed on Friday. One other note: Justice is blind, right. Not here, she can see. Justice looked down on the streets of Virginia City and likely saw more than she wanted to.The Piper Opera House is just down the road from the courthouse. I have always been intrigued by the number of early western boomtowns that featured opera houses.This Presbyterian Church was one of the few buildings to survive the 1875 fire.Both the imposing St. Mary’s in the Mountains Catholic Church and its smaller cousin, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, had to be rebuilt after the fire.While we are talking fires, this was one of the early firehouses in Virginia City. It is now a museum housing various fire fighting equipment.Such as this fancy fire truck. Apparently looks were as important, and possibly more so, than fire fighting capability.I don’t know what this building was in its earlier life, but I found it appealing.Another view of the building. It was up the steep hill from my RV campground. Just about everything in Virginia City is up or down a steep hill! The bright blue house behind the Jeweler’s shop made a fun contrast. Any visit to Virginia City calls for a leisurely stroll up and down C Street, the towns main drag. This is what it looked like in 1866 before the fire caused it to be rebuilt.Then, as now, the city had its fair share of saloons and then some! The Bucket of Blood Saloon refers to the buckets of water that had to be used each night to clean up the blood left behind by fighting miners. Inside the Bucket of Blood Saloon today. I was impressed by the saloon’s expensive look. Photos of early Virginia City were featured beneath the bar. The one you can see featured a V&T train.A mural in the center of town also features the Virginia and Truckee Railroad. Built in the 1870s, the railroad carried millions of dollars worth of gold ore to Carson City and Reno. Rebuilt in 1974, the V&T now carries tourist from Virginia City to nearby Gold Hill or farther afield to Carson City in ornate cars pulled by vintage steam and diesel engines. All aboard!The mural, which definitely needs some loving care, also featured the Piper Opera House, a dancing girl, and what I assume were stained glass windows from one of the churches.Continuing my stroll along C Street, I found this blacksmith shop.The Crystal Bar.The Red Dog Saloon. An upstairs windows offered painless dentistry. These were pre-novocaine days. I wondered how much booze would be required. Law offices offered ‘acquittals in most cases.’ A room was one dollar. For another dollar you could have a bath that came with an attendant. Did he/she wash your back?This bar looked intriguing. I was tempted but 10 AM is a little early for me.A building that apparently came without a saloon.And another.Some amusing signs I found along C Street.And my favorite.I couldn’t help but think of the TV series. In fact, Virginia City owes a lot to Bonanza. It was the go-to town for the Cartwrights. People who enjoyed the immensely popular series became interested in seeing the town, which gave Virginia City a substantial boost in tourism during its 14th season, 431 episode run.The well-know map of the umpteen thousand acre Ponderosa that kicked off each episode of Bonanza. (Mark Twain’s fire, BTW, would have burned a portion of the Ponderosa had it been for real. The Cartwright family would have been after his hide.)Virginia City’s most famous Madame, Julia Bulette, was even included in an episode of Bonanza. Little Joe falls in love with her and Ben disapproves, a natural reaction for a dad when your son falls in love with a lady of the evening. When Julia helps save numerous lives, which she did in real life, Ben relents. The Number 1 hat on the left was given to Julia by the town’s firemen who considered her a hero and a friend.Any post about Virginia City should include something about the silver and gold mines. These are mine tailings. Mines were located almost everywhere, including under the city.You hear a lot about stamp mills when you visit the early mining towns of the west such as Virginia City and Bodie. Here is the device that gives the mills their name. The steel booted rods act like pistons rising and falling to crush ore that is fed into a pan at the bottom. You can imagine the infernal noise created. Mark Twain worked feeding one of these machines. It was his job to use a sledgehammer to break up larger pieces of ore to throw into the pan. He lasted for a whole week and earned ten dollars for his 12 hour a day, six day a week job. Mining is dangerous work. These square-set timbers developed for mining in Virginia City made it safer by providing more protection from cave-ins.The mines reached a depth of over 3,000 feet, creating further challenges. One was keeping ahead of the underground water that constantly threatened to flood the shafts. The other was dealing with heat. As the depths increased, the temperature of the geo-thermal water increased. Falling in meant being scalded to death. Ambient temperatures in the mines reached up to 130 degrees F. One solution to the water problem was the Sutro Tunnel that was built at a painstaking pace of 3.2 inches per hour for approximately four miles and allowed up to four million gallons of water a day to be drained. The cart above was used by miners working on the tunnel.I’ll finish my post with this view of a quiet day in Virginia City. If big crowds and lots of excitement are your thing, you might want to visit on the Fourth of July, as the sign recommends— or time travel back to the 1860s and 70s!
NEXT POST: We will journey up to Reno and visit one of the world’s most impressive auto museums— and see some really classy autos.
I never expected to see a logging truck coming down our road but thanks to drought brought on by global warming, we had 43 trees to remove!
It’s time for a quick break from my Highway 395 series to bring you up to date on current events in our never-boring life such as a logging operation in our backyard. I’ll be back to Highway 395 and Virginia City in my next post.A note on photos: Peggy and I shared photographer’s duties on this post.
Removing 43 Douglas firs from our five acres was not anything Peggy and I looked forward to, either from an aesthetic or financial perspective. Global warming didn’t give us a choice. Severe drought weakened a number of our trees and voracious pine beetles took quick advantage of the situation. We decided to be proactive in hopes of slowing down or stopping the beetles.
I am no stranger to logging operations. My father was the electrician for a lumber mill when I was growing up. We considered the mill with its logging pond as part of our extended play area, much to the dismay of the nighttime and weekend watchman. He had an extensive vocabulary of swear words that he liked to share with us. We even had a logger with his logging truck living next door. He’d wake us up at 5:00 a.m. on summer mornings as he dashed off to collect his first load of logs. Since then, my backpacking trips have occasionally taken me through areas that were being logged.
None of this is anything like having a logging operation in your backyard, however. I didn’t actually hear anyone shouting “Timber!” but the buzzing sound of chainsaws accompanied by the crashing sounds of large Douglas firs (some over a hundred feet in length) was our constant companion for a week.
Peggy hiked up and took photos of the logs being hauled out of the forest…We watched as the logs stacked up in our backyard.And then were loaded onto a truck. (There were two loads.) Check out the claw!This large claw, designed to grasp logs and load them on to the truck, was operated from the front of the truck by the owner, Davron Holland.We waved goodby to our trees as they were hauled away.Speaking of claws, all of the commotion disturbed the forest spirits that live in our canyon. Peggy and I came home one day to find our hammock being shredded!Was it the same creature that left this mark?It appears that its claws were of an appropriate length. Could it be the legendary Bigfoot?Not likely. My nephew Jay Dallen and I check out a Bigfoot family at Crater Lake National Park. They hardly seem the type to rip up a hammock… (Jay, you may remember, backpacked a hundred miles with me last summer on my 750 mile trek down the PCT.)Maybe Bone was having a bad day. My blogging friend, Crystal Truelove, took him up to the Bigfoot trap to show him what it feels like to be locked up. But Bone is good friends with Crystal. She took him back for a visit to the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma this past year and he got to hang out with Cherokee princesses.Also, he had a photo shoot with Jay’s actress friend, Nichole Tompkins…And was feeling quite balanced!This fellow at Crater Lake was a possibility. I refused to feed him a peanut, but a) his claws were too small and b) Nichole shared a PB&J sandwich with him.This buffalo we found in Al the Wop’s Bar in Locke, California last week had the right horns but his unique eyeshade eliminated him.This Stellar Jay was unhappy enough to take on the challenge. He was hot! But again, his claws weren’t up to the job.We found several possible candidates on our road trip through the redwoods where we found the claw marks. But they were too far away.Maybe it was an irritated buck with an attitude problem. This was my prime candidate with his “Are you looking at me!” pose. Turns out, it was a fellow that hangs out with him, a young spike with two small but sharp horns who was suffering from severe antler envy. He was using the hammock to clean the velvet off his antlers.
And Other Events…
My niece Marion and her husband John. They had come out from Tennessee to collect my brother’s 32 foot RV that he had left in my backyard when he passed away. It was big! We were glad to see it go. Next was a visit from a fellow blogger, Crystal Trulove. As most of you are aware, the friendships that evolve from our blogging are special. Crystal was in town for the Shakespeare Festival in Ashland and stayed at our house. She treated us to the wonderfully whacky play, “Alice in Wonderland.” The African cloth in the background, BTW, was sent to me by another good blogging friend, Linda Leinen at Shoreacres. Linda and I share a common background of having lived in Liberia, West Africa.We had a delightful visit with Jay and Nichole. Here we are at a Beach Boys Concert at the Britt in Jacksonville, OR.We took Jay and Nichole to our favorite kayaking spot, the Bigfoot trap, and…to Crater Lake National Park. Here Peggy and Nichole share a look. (I am not sure it is possible to work more blue into a photo.)Jay offers a piggy back ride! On our way home from Crater Lake, we were treated to this sunset in the Applegate Valley. When Jay and Nichole left, Jay was heading off to film a National Geographic reality adventure show across Russia and Nichole was heading for Barcelona where she has a film opening.We went on a short road trip through the redwoods. They’re big.Until the national and state parks were created to save the redwoods, they were rapidly being cut down. My seat is an old stump.And note the burls! I will be doing a much more extensive post on Redwood National Park (and Crater Lake) as part of my national park series.We ended up visiting my old friend Tom Lovering who lives on the Sacramento Delta with his friend Lita in the town of Clarksburg. I was backpacking with Tom in 1977 when we found Bone. Tom immediately loaded us into his ski boat to head off for an Italian dinner.When Tom got the boat up to full throttle, he climbed out of the seat and insisted that I take over, which was a bit scary considering I had never steered a speed boat! Woohoo! “Watch out for big logs,” he told me. Yeah, thanks.Peggy with Tom’s friend Lita in the back of the boat, not nearly as worried as they should be.Coming back from the restaurant we were treated to a beautiful Sacramento Delta sunset.Afterwards, Tom and Lita took us on a tour of the Delta and we ended up at Al the Wops Bar in Locke. You’ve already met the buffalo who lives at the bar.The deer were also decorated. One can only wonder how many drinks it takes.If that seems a bit risqué, you can always feed the fishOr practice the popular pastime of sticking dollars to the ceiling.The friendly bartender taught me the trick! And, I am proud to report, I succeeded.Locke when we left the bar. I can count on one hand the number of times I have ‘shut the bar down’ in my life. And I am pretty sure that Tom has been in on all of those occasions.
NEXT POST: I return to my Highway 395 series and visit Virginia City where silver was king and Samuel Clemens adopted the name of Mark Twain.
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