Wandering the Far West in 2014… Interim 2

December 14, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 46 Comments

The cover: A tufa tower in Mono Lake with Sierra Nevada Mountains in Background. Eastern California.

The cover of our 2015 calendar: A tufa tower at Mono Lake with Sierra Nevada Mountains in background. Eastern California.

I am still working on my blog about Peg’s dad and his experience as a Hump pilot in World War II. In fact, Peggy’s brother, John Dallen Jr., is now helping. I’ve been learning a lot. For example, yesterday, I discovered the approximate location where the plane John Sr. was flying crashed in the Indian jungle. I find the new information fascinating, but the research is slowing down the post.

In the meantime, I decided to put up another interim post or two. Today is calendar day. Each year, Peggy and I create a calendar for our families using photos we have taken during the year. Family birthdays and anniversaries are included. This year we are mailing out 28 calendars, which include 80 birthdays and anniversaries. It’s quite the production.

Since the photos we use on the calendar reflect this past year’s adventures and are among some of our favorites, I thought they would be fun to share on the blog. If you are a regular follower of Wandering through Time and Place, I am sure you will recognize several of them. All photos were taken by either Peggy or me. Enjoy.

January: Burney Falls. Northern California

February: Cactus flowers. Valley of Fire State Park, Southern Nevada.

March: Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area in southern Nevada.

April: Old road with April flowers in Death Valley National Park. Eastern California.

May: Weathered buildings at Bodie State Historical Park, a ghost town in Eastern California.

June: Sierra Nevada Mountains form the East. Peggy and I have backpacked through these mountains numerous times.

June: Sierra Nevada Mountains from the East. Peggy and I have backpacked through these mountains numerous times.

July:: Mt. Rainier National Park. Washington State.

August: Humpback whale dives when Peggy and I are on kayaking trip off Vancouver Island.

September: Burning Man in remote northern Nevada desert.

October: Rainbow caught in waves on Oregon Coast.

November: Sunset in Sedona, Arizona.

December: Bell Rock in Sedona, Arizona.

A World War II Blimp Hangar, a Guppy, and a Cow Escape Route… The Oregon Coast

December 5, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 76 Comments

Eight blimps called this hangar in Tillamook, Oregon home during World War II. (Photo at Tillamook Air Museum.)

Eight blimps called this Tillamook, Oregon hangar home during World War II. (Photo at Tillamook Air Museum.)

I’d been through Tillamook, Oregon several times and never spotted the huge blimp hangar that was built there during World War II. It is plainly visible from the Highway 101. Who knows what I was thinking about when I made my way up and down the road? It must have been a heck of a daydream. I saw the hangar this time, however, and it was like, “Wow!” I immediately changed plans and decided to stay in the area for another day. The hangar was something I had to visit.

How I missed seeing this building is a mystery to me.

Today it serves as a partially abandoned air museum. (Most of its airplanes have been shipped off to Madras in eastern Oregon, where it’s hoped the vintage aircraft will survive better in a drier climate.) The facility is definitely worth a visit, however. The 170-foot high, 1000-foot long building was built to accommodate eight, 252 f00t K class blimps. One hundred and twenty-foot tall doors open up to a cavernous interior.

The Tillamook Air Museum shown here, served as a blimp hangar during World War II.

Here are the massive doors. The airplane in front is known as a Guppy. I’ll show you why below.

A view inside the Tillamook Air Museum that served as a blimp hangar during World War II.

This view inside the hangar gives an idea of its massive size.

This illustration inside the Air Museum provides a perspective on the various sizes of blimps. The blimps housed at the Tillamook Naval Air Station were K-Class.

Blimps played an important role in World War II: They protected convoys and shipping lanes by spotting German and Japanese submarines. The blimps’ ability to fly in almost any type of weather, hover, and provide unobstructed views of the ocean made them an excellent choice for submarine patrol. The Tillamook facility was responsible for the coastline between British Columbia and northern California. Nine other naval air stations covered the rest of the west and east coasts of the US.

This illustration at the museum shows where blimp naval air stations were located during World War II.

Another illustration at the museum showed where blimp naval air stations were located during World War II. Sorry about the quality, but I found the illustration interesting. The dark symbols represent blimp hangars still in existence.

An introductory film and numerous World War II era photos at the museum provide an overview of the hangar’s history. I also found other interesting information on the war including posters, balloon bombs and a cow escape route.

World War II Woman Ordinance Worker poster found at the Tillamook Air Museum.

Among the other World War II items found at the museum were a number of WW II posters including this one for WOW, a Women Ordinance Worker.

The first ICBM? As the Japanese war effort was reversed and the US began its air raids on the country, Japan initiated a desperate ploy: the use of the jet stream to carry explosive-loaded balloons 6200 miles to the Pacific Coast.

Speaking of ordinance, this fading photo of a balloon has a story to tell; it may have been the first ICBM. As Japan faced defeat in 1944, it initiated a desperate ploy: the use of the jet stream to carry explosive-laden balloons 6200 miles to the Pacific Coast of the US and Canada. Some 6000 were launched but only 300 reached their destination, and they fell on rain-soaked forests, causing little damage.

I was amused when I came across a report on the cow escape route. Tillamook takes its cows seriously. Some of the best dairy stock in the US is located in the area. So it isn’t surprising that the local farmers decided their cows needed an escape route in case the Japanese invaded. Woodsmen were called upon to plan out paths through the forest. Using old logging roads, deer trails, and hunters’ routes, a cow getaway plan was soon organized.

No one asked the cows what they thought. Given that their idea of exercise was to leisurely travel from well-stocked barns to grass filled pastures, they may have preferred to hang around and provide the Japanese with milk, butter and cheese rather than hightail it through the rugged wilderness with udders bouncing.

The guppy airplane at the Tillamook Air Museum.

It isn’t too much of a jump to move from cows to a guppy is it? One look at the front of this cargo plane explains its name. The Guppy is part of the Air Museums collection.

Inside the Guppy.

Building the two hangars at Tillamook was a massive undertaking. Unstable ground, a ferocious winter, and the use all provided challenges.

Building the two hangars at Tillamook was a massive undertaking. Unstable ground, a ferocious winter, and the use of wood instead of steel for the structure all provided challenges. Steel was being used at the time for other war purposes. (Photo from Tillamook Air Museum.)

A blimp is launched from the Tillamook Air Station during World War II. Note the men holding ropes for a size perspective. Missions could last as long as 15 to 20 hours and some blimps were equipped to stay out as long as 59 hours and travel over 1400 miles. (Photo from Tillamook Air Museum.)

A final view of blimps arrayed outside of the Tillamook hangar during World War II. Next blog: I find a surprise in the museum that takes me back to World War II and my wife’s father. (Photo from Tillamook Air Museum.)

A Wild Ocean and Crashing Waves… The Oregon Coast

November 29, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 40 Comments

Rainbow created in waves crashing along the Oregon Coast at Depoe Bay. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

A moment of sun creates a rainbow in waves crashing along the Oregon Coast.

A winter storm on the Oregon Coast is a sight to see. In fact, motels along the coast promote storm watching. Here’s one such pitch: “Sit back and relax in your cozy room by the fireplace and watch through your huge picture window as furious waves pound the rocks below.” And furious they are.

A storm was raging when I drove down the coast a few weeks ago. In between torrential rainfall, the sun would peek out, and I would stop to admire the crashing waves. I didn’t have a huge picture window, so I admired the waves as they were meant to be admired, up close and personal. Following are several photos I took.

Dramatic waves crash ashore on the Oregon coast. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Very few shows are as dramatic as ocean waves during a storm.

Powerful waves crash ashore on the Oregon coast. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Rules numbers 1 and 2 when enjoying waves like these: Keep a distance, and never, never turn your back.

Spouting Horns at Depoe Bay shoot waves into the air. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

One of the best know spots for watching waves on the Oregon Coast is in the community of Depoe Bay where the ocean shoots through lava tubes and is thrown high into the sky through what is known as the Spouting Horns.

View of Spouting Horns at Depoe Bay on the Oregon Coast. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Another view of the Spouting Horns. I could almost see a ghostly face staring back at me.

View of waves thrown into the air at Spouting Horns, Depoe Bay, Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

And a third view.

Wave retreats at Depoe Bay, Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

The wave’s energy expended by crashing against the rocks, the water flows back into the ocean.

The Devi's Churn on the coast of Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

It’s known as the Devil’s Churn. Waves come driving in from the ocean and are forced up a narrow channel, turning the water into a frothy, whipped cream like texture.

Devil's Churn on Central oregon coast showing whip cream like texture of waves. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

A close up of Devil’s Churn showing the whip cream like texture of the waves.

Devil's Churn on Oregon coast whips waves into a froth. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

The Churn at work.

A final view of the Devil’s Churn. Next blog: A hangar large enough to accommodate eight blimps in Tillamook, Oregon.

Mono Lake: Four Trillion Brine Shrimp Call It Home… the Desert Series

July 20, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 30 Comments

Strange towers made of lime, tufa, give Mono Lake its unique personality.

Towers made of lime known as tufa give Mono Lake its unique personality.

To say the least, Mono Lake is a strange place. Some people even call it weird. Once upon a time, back when glaciers stretched across North America, it was part of a series of large lakes that covered much of modern-day Eastern California, Nevada and Utah, a region that is now primarily desert. Left behind as a remnant by retreating glaciers, Mono Lake is at least 760,000 years old and could be as old as three million years, making it one of the oldest lakes in North America.

What flows into Mono Lake, stays. There are no outlets. As a result, the lake is 2-3 times as salty as the ocean. Swimmers don’t have to worry about sinking. In fact the lake contains some 280 million tons of dissolved salts, which makes it even too salty for fish. An effort to introduce trout left them belly up on the surface, like the proverbial dead gold-fish destined for a close encounter with the family toilet.

Algae, brine shrimp, and alkali flies thrive in the water, however. The thumbnail-sized shrimp population is estimated to be somewhere between 4 and 6 trillion in the summer. Historically, the fly pupae served as a major source of food for the Kutzadika’a Indians. In fact, the name for the tribe means fly eater.

Today, both the flies and shrimp provide food for some two million birds that migrate through the area. One visitor, Wilson’s Phalarope, a tiny, fist-sized shorebird, takes advantage of the gourmet flies to double its weight and grow a new set of feathers before journeying 3000 miles to South America— a feat that is accomplished in three days of nonstop flying at speeds of over 40 miles per hour.

It isn’t flies, shrimp, birds, or salt water that Mono Lake is famous for, however. It’s tufa, the fantastical, fairy-like structures that grow in the lake and appeal to photographers from around the world. Calcium-rich water bubbling up from underwater springs combines with the lakes carbonate-rich waters in a chemical reaction to create the lime-based structures. Towers as high as 30 feet can be built under water through this process in a time span that may involve centuries.

The reason these towers are visible today is due to the unquenchable thirst of millions of people in Los Angeles. This thirst came close to destroying Mono Lake, as it did the Owens River and Owens Valley south of Mono Lake. Starting in 1941 the politically formidable Los Angeles Water and Power Company tapped into the streams flowing into Mono Lake and sent the water on a one-way, 330 mile journey south, reducing water in the lake from 4.3 million acre feet in 1941 to 2.1 million acre feet in 1982.

The United States Navy also posed a threat to Mono Lake by carrying out a series of under water explosion tests during the Cold War. The plaque at the site described these explosions as top-secret seismic tests. Whether the navy was searching for a way to predict earthquakes and tsunamis or cause them is the question. Fortunately, public pressure and concerns for public safety led to the navy abandoning its activities at Mono Lake in the late 50s/early 60s.

It was the growing environmental movement of the 70s and the Mono Lake Organization that eventually forced the Los Angeles Power and Water Company to reduce the amount of water it was exporting from Mono Lake’s tributaries. Today the lake is on the way to recovering its pre 1941 water levels (assuming it isn’t wiped out by global warming and drought). Mono Lake is found just north of Lee Vining off of Highway 395. Following Highway 120 west out of Lee Vining will take travelers into Yosemite National Park.

The Sierra Nevada Mountains provide a scenic backdrop in the west for Mono Lake. Highway 395 runs slog the base of the foothills. Tufa can be seen emerging from the lake.

The Sierra Nevada Mountains provide a scenic backdrop in the west for Mono Lake. Highway 395 runs along the base of the foothills. Tufa can be seen emerging from the lake.

Following Highway 120 east off of Highway 395 will bring visitors to Mono Lake's South Tufa Trail where the photos in they blog were taken.

Following Highway 120 east off of Highway 395 will bring visitors to Mono Lake’s South Tufa Trail where the photos in this blog were taken. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Prior to Los Angeles tapping into the streams that provide water to Mono Lake, this tufa tower would have been underwater. Now it sits on dry land.

Reflections add extra character to this often photographed tufa island in Mono Lake. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Reflections add extra character to this often photographed tufa island in Mono Lake— as they do in the next two photos. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

I thought of this tufa tower as a frog face topped off by a frog hat. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Tufa towers located at Mono Lake, California near Lee Vining.

A tufa family? (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

A final view of the Sierra Nevada Mountains framed by tufa towers at Mono Lake.

NEXT BLOG: Having finished our desert series, Peggy and I return to Oregon and visit Oregon Caves National Monument.

Mt. Whitney: 14,505 feet— Or Is that 14,496.811 Feet… But Who’s Counting?

July 15, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 35 Comments

Highway 395 is one of America’s most scenic drives. This view looking up at Mt. Whitney, center top, is one of the reasons why.

Highway 395, with its panoramic views of the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains, is one of the most scenic highways in the United States. I will admit to a degree of prejudice, however. John Muir called the High Sierras the Range of Light. I think of them as ‘home.’ I have backpacked up and down the range numerous times. The mountains call to me in a way that no city or town does.

Driving up California's Highway 395 provides and ever changing perspective of the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Driving up California’s Highway 395 provides an ever-changing perspective of the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Another view of the Sierra Nevada Mountains along highway 395. This seems to fit Muir’s Range of Light description. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

I celebrated my 60^th birthday by backpacking over 300 miles down the spine of the Sierras, I started at Squaw Valley, which is north-west of Lake Tahoe, and ended by climbing up Mt. Whitney. It was my sixth trip up Whitney. I figured it would be a fitting way to kick off my sixth decade.

View of Mt. Whitney from the west including Curtis Mekemson.

Wrapping up five weeks of backpacking, my final climb looms in the distance. The curved mountain just to the right of my head is Whitney. I will be sitting on top the next day. The Sierras are fault block mountains, climbing gradually on their western slope and dropping off rapidly in the east. (Photo by Jay Dallen.)

Curtis Mekemson sitting on top of Mt. Whitney.

And here I am on top, complete with a large grin. The Owens Valley and Highway 395 lie some 10,000 feet below. (Photo by Jay Dallen.)

Looking north form Mt. Whitney up the crest of the Sierra Nevada Mountains that I had just hiked through following the Pacific Crest and John Muir Trails.

Looking north from Mt. Whitney up the crest of the Sierra Nevada Mountains where I had just backpacked following the Pacific Crest and John Muir Trails.

View looking down from the top of Mt. Whitney. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Another view from the top of Mt. Whitney.

The mountain’s claim to fame is being the highest mountain in the contiguous United States. It stands at 14,505 feet (4,421 meters). My friends in Alaska are quick to point out that Mt. McKinley/Denali is 20,322 feet. Mt. Shasta, where I began this particular series, is 14, 180 feet. And finally, for comparison, Mt. Everest, the world’s highest mountain, tops out at 29,029 feet (8,848 meters).

Mt. Shasta.

Once the snow has melted, climbing Whitney does not require any technical climbing skills. A good trail leads to the top. According to the plaque on top, it is the highest trail in the United States. It was started in 1928 and completed in 1930. The plaque used to (and still may) claim that the mountain is 14, 496.811 feet high, which would seem pretty darn accurate, especially given the .811 feet. Apparently modern measuring techniques have added a few feet. Not that it matters, unless you happen to be the person climbing those last nine feet.

Getting to the top requires stamina, lots of it. The eastern route up the mountain starts at Whitney Portal and climbs 6000 feet. That’s a bunch of up, and the higher you climb, the thinner the air becomes. Most people slow way down near the top as their bodies fight to get enough oxygen.

I’ve always started from the west since I am either ending or in the middle of a backpack trip. There are two advantages. Most important, I’ve already spent several days hiking at higher elevations. My body has both toughened up and adjusted to thinner air. Second, by starting at Guitar Lake, the climb is only 4,000 feet. Still that’s 4000 feet up and 6,000 feet down on a 15-mile day carrying a 40-pound pack— hardly a walk in the park. (Grin)

The reason for climbing the mountain, beyond being able to say you have, is the spectacular scenery. I wouldn’t recommend the trip for anyone with acrophobia (fear of heights), however, given that all of the views involve looking down several thousand feet.

Jay Dallen standing on the edge of Mt. Whitney.

My nephew, Jay Dallen, stands on the edge of a thousand foot precipice and looks down. He obviously does not suffer from acrophobia. Different people joined me on each of my five-week segments. Jay was 16 at the time.

The Alabama Hills, featured in the photo below, are located just outside of Lone Pine at the base of Mt. Whitney. Over 300 movies, mainly Westerns, have been filmed in the area. Almost every major Hollywood cowboy from the 1920s up to the present have made movies there. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

A final view of Mt. Whitney. This one features the Alabama Hills, the site of many early movies featuring the likes of Hop-a-long Cassidy and the Lone Ranger.

A final view of Mt. Whitney. This one features the Alabama Hills, the site of many Western movies featuring everyone from Tom Mix, Hop-along Cassidy and Roy Rogers to John Wayne and Johnny Depp. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

“Goodbye God. I am going to Bodie.” Ghost Towns of the Old West

July 8, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 63 Comments

Tattered curtains, a cracked window, and a reflection of weather warn buildings capture the essence of the Old West ghost town of Bodie, California.

Ghostly curtains, a cracked window, and a reflection of weather worn buildings capture the essence of Bodie, California.

“Goodbye God, I am going to Bodie,” was a statement made by a ten-year old in her journal when her family took her to Bodie during its glory days as a gold rush town.

She was right to be concerned. There was plenty of sin to go around as various bad men of the Old West came together with gold seekers and other adventurers in the 1870s. Killings took place almost daily. The fire station would toll the age of the person killed. Robberies, stagecoach holdups and barroom brawls filled in around the edges. It’s “a sea of sin lashed by the tempests of lust and passion,” Reverend F.M. Warrington noted.

And if that weren’t enough, there was the weather to contend with. Winter could bring snows as deep as 20 feet, winds up to 100 miles per hour, and temperatures that dropped to 30˚ F below zero. Freezing to death was on the list of things that might kill you.

Today Bodie is maintained in a state of “arrested decay” as a California State Historical Park. This makes it substantially different from Rhyolite, where things are more or less allowed to fall apart. Most of Bodie’s buildings are still intact– even though some may need a little help. (Grin)

Propped up outhouse in the ghost town of Bodie, California.

Decay doesn’t get much more ‘arrested’ than this propped up outhouse. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Leaning building in the Bodie State Park ghost town. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

This building is a little confused about which direction it wants to lean. The support beam it is ‘leaning into’ is on the left.

Building held up by support beams at Bodie State Park in California.

A building that apparently needed a lot of help. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Bones of building at Bodie State Park in California.

Almost beyond help, this building relies on its neighbor for support. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Bodie is located east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains off of Highway 395 near the town of Bridgeport. A paved side road that soon turns to dirt delivers visitors to the ghost town. When we arrived, Mono County was seriously engaged in tearing up the dirt section of the road. Our truck was not happy. (I assume they have put the road back together by now.) Peggy and I got ‘lost’ leaving the town. It is really hard to do. I chalk it up to subconsciously wanting to avoid another personal encounter with the Mono County Highway Department. Anyway, we explored 20 or so miles of dirt road before finding our way back to the highway.

Mining equipment at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

As expected, one place to find old mining equipment is in old mining towns. The cages seen beneath the head frame were used to lift miners into and out of the mines.

Place setting covered in dust at Bodie State Historical Park.

I’ll classify this as a ‘still life’ photo. Apparently it’s been still for decades. It’s what happens when you are late for dinner.

Old bed at Bodie State Historic Park in California.

Why does ‘spring into action’ come to mind?

An old truck at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

This truck had character including the yellow rim on the back wheel. I assume the roped door was to keep kids (both small and big) out of the vehicle.

Old car remains at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

This car was more open for inspection.

Prairie dog at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

Speaking of inspection, a prairie dog stopped his busy rounds of grass chomping to check us out. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Shell gas station at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

A Shell gas station.

Old Shell gas sign at Bodie Historical Park in California

Apparently someone was upset about the increased cost of gas. Maybe it had jumped from fifteen to sixteen cents a gallon.

Methodist Church is Bodie State Historical Park in California.

The end of the bad old days in the West was often signified by the building of a church. It appears they weren’t quite over in Bodie however. An oil cloth painting of the Ten Commandants in the Methodist Church that hung behind the altar was stolen. So much for “Thou shalt not steal.”

The morgue at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

If there are haunted places in Bodie, the morgue is a prime location. The featured casket provides a window to view the deceased. A Bible rests on the table. Or maybe it is a copy of Mortuary Science for Dummies.

Old power pole in the ghost town of Bodie.

This power pole seemed sufficiently ghostly to reside in a ghost town.

House of mine worker at Bodie ghost town.

Peggy stands in front of one of the shacks where a miner lived.

The J.S. Caine residence at Bodie State Historical Park in California.

Here she stands in front of the house of the guy who owned the mine.

The International Order of Odd Fellows Hall. I’d almost join for the name alone.

A wider view of Bodie. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Getting lost on the way out of Bodie wasn’t bad considering the scenery.

We did become a little concerned as evening approached and we were still wandering around on our dirt road. But eventually we arrived in Bridgeport and could declare our detour another adventure.

NEXT BLOG: We journey up California’s beautiful Highway 395 and stop to admire Mt. Whitney, the highest mountain in the contiguous United States. And, I might add, a mountain I have climbed six times.

Rhyolite’s Neighbor: The Goldwell Open Air Museum… The Desert Series

July 5, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 24 Comments

A tall, naked, pink lady is visible from the Nevada ghost town of Rhyolite. Known as the The Venus of Nevada, this 1992 work by Hugo Heyrman is part of the Goldwell Open Air Museum.

A tall, pink lady is visible from the Nevada ghost town of Rhyolite. Known as the Venus of Nevada, this 1992 work by Hugo Heyrman is part of the Goldwell Open Air Museum.

The first time we drove into Rhyolite, I noticed a tall, naked lady with blond hair next door to the town. And no, I hadn’t consumed any peyote or other hallucinogenic drugs normally found in deserts and used by shamans to enter places that might be inhabited by tall, naked, pink ladies. I was gazing down at the Goldwell Open Air Museum, a truly unique art museum in the world of art museums.

Goldwell was started in 1984 by the Dutch artist Albert Szukalski as a way to display ghostly figures he created by wrapping live models in wet plaster. Soon, other Dutch artists joined him in his efforts to create a sculpture museum in the desert. Today, a Nevada non-profit organization cares for the museum and supports on-site artistic endeavors.

I’ve blogged about the museum before and I will undoubtedly blog about it again. Why? I’ll let the photos tell the story.

Albert Szukalski’s work, The Last Supper, was the first sculpture created for the Goldwell Open Air Museum. The mountains and clouds provide a dramatic backdrop for the sculpture.

Albert Szukalski's Last Supper sculpture at the Goldwell Open Air Museum just east of Death Valley National Park.

Using Davinci’s fresco of the Last Supper as a model, Szukalski wanted a desert setting for his sculpture. Here, the ghostly figures are seen from behind.

Lady Desert and the Last Supper sculptures at the Goldwell Open Air Museum located east of Death Valley.

Lady Desert, the Venus of Nevada, is located behind the Last Supper. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Looking up at Lady Desert at the Goldwell Open Air Museum in Nevada.

Hugo Heyrman used cinder blocks in his creation of the Venus of Nevada to represent the pixellated, technological world we live in. I found this perspective interesting. Peggy just shook her head.

Ghost Rider Sculpture by Albert Szukalski at the Goldwell Open Air Museum east of Death Valley.

A local resident of the nearby town of Beatty donated his bike and his body for this sculpture by Albert Szukalski. He served as the model by allowing wet, plaster infused burlap to be draped over his body.The sculpture is appropriately named Ghost Rider.

Every lonely desert prospector needs a penguin for company, right? Wait, isn’t that a donkey? The artist Fred Bervoets decided on a penguin for his tribute to Shorty Harris at the Goldwell Open Air Museum. Shorty was a legendary prospector who worked the Rhyolite area.

Couch by Sophie Siegmann at the Goldwell Open Air Museum in Nevada.

This couch by Sofie Siegmann is titled “Sit Here.”

the Sit Here couch by Sophie Siegmann at the Goldwell Open Air Museum near Beatty, Nevada.

So Peggy did. The buildings in the background are located in the ghost town of Rhyolite.

Detail on couch sculpture at Goldwell Open Air Museum.

The back of the couch featured this face. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Statue of Icara by Dre Peters at the Goldwell Open Air Museum.

Dre Peeters named his hand carved statue Icara, a female equivalent of Icarus, the legendary Greek boy who flew too close to the sun.

Wagon wheel at the Goldwell Open Air Museum near Beatty, Nevada.

An old wagon was located at the base of the Icara, so naturally I had to take a photo of its wheel. It makes a fitting end for this blog about an art museum located next to a ghost town.

NEXT BLOG: Off to the well know California ghost town of Bodie.

Ghost Towns of the Old West: Rhyolite… The Desert Series

July 2, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 28 Comments

Old grave at the ghost town of Rhyolite outside of Death Valley.

What better way to introduce a ghost town than to show where the ghosts live? This is one of the better kept grave sites in the Rhyolite cemetery. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

What’s a desert without a ghost town or two?

Boom and bust are the go-to words when it comes to creating ghost towns in the desert. Gold, or some other valuable mineral is found. Miners, developers, speculators and others burning with get-rich-quick-itis rush in where angels fear to tread (wisely so). Eventually the vein runs out. Unless the town has other ways of providing a livelihood, people leave. The ghosts are left behind. That’s the story of Rhyolite.

Boom! At the beginning of January in 1905, Rhyolite was a non-town of two people. They struck it rich. Two weeks later the population had grown to 1200 people. By 1907 somewhere between 4,000 and 8,000 people called the place home. Apparently no one was interested in doing an accurate census count. But the small city had banks, a school, its own railroad, a hospital, an opera house, some 50 saloons and a generous smattering of ladies of the evening with hearts of gold, or at least pockets filled with gold coins. There was electricity, running water, and telephones.

Charles Schwab, the steel magnate, (as opposed to Charles Schwab of brokerage house fame) was the money behind the development of Rhyolite. Thomas Edison, who was responsible for inventing the electric lights that lit up the town, once called Schwab a master hustler. It fit, but Schwab’s hustling in Rhyolite failed to pan out (to use an old gold mining term).

Bust! In 1907, a British mining engineer discovered that the ‘fabulously high-grade ore’ mine Schwab had bought was actually filled with low-grade ore. By 1910 the banks were closed. The last train left town in 1916. A motor tour organized by the LA Times in 1922 found only one person remaining in the town, a 94-year-old man who died two years later. Rhyolite began its career as a ghost town.

For enquiring minds that want to know, Rhyolite is located approximately 120 miles north of Las Vegas and sits on the eastern edge of Death Valley, just outside the small Nevada town of Beatty. It is named after an igneous rock common throughout the area.

An old truck in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada.

Ghost truck in Rhyolite. Its engine had long since departed.

Interior of old truck in Rhyolite, Nevada.

I was torn over which interior photograph I would use, but opted for the steering wheel and dashboard. It, and the faded surrounding mountains struck me as ghostly. The odometer had stopped at 45,438 miles. Or make that 45,438.5. It was rolling over to 45,439 when its roving days ended.

Cook Bank in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada.

Once the pride of Rhyolite, the Cook Bank’s floors were marble and its windows were stain glass.

Almost everything of value was ripped out of the Cook Bank and Rhyolite in general. Many of the buildings in nearby Beatty, owe their existence to this pilferage. It led me to wonder why the fine bricks on top of the Cook Bank were still there. Were they a little difficult to reach, a little perilous to remove? (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

School in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada.

I asked Peggy, a retired elementary school principal, to pose for me in front of Rhyolite’s school. Her hair, which totally has a mind of its own, had been teased by the desert wind.

Rattlesnake warning sign in Rhyolite, Nevada.

We laughed. If the reasonable approach doesn’t work, try another. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

They say it is better to be on the inside looking out than the outside looking in. I don’t think it matters in Rhyolite. But I did like the composition that pulls you out toward the mountains.

HD and LD Porter sign in Rhyolite, Nevada.

A rather classy sign that is lucky it didn’t end up in an antique shop somewhere.

The old railway station at Rhyolite, Nevada.

Speaking of classy, Rhyolite’s railway station was, and still is an attractive building. Over the years it morphed into a hotel, casino, souvenir shop, all connected to Rhyolite’s ghost town status. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Old rail found near the ghost town of Rhyolite.

Most of the rails leading up to the station were pulled out and used during World War I, but I did find this old one in a junk pile behind the station.

One of the more intriguing buildings in Rhyolite, from my perspective, is this old caboose that was once used on the Las Vegas to Salt Lake line. It was reborn as a service station in Rhyolite to serve the visitors that came to visit the ghost town and probably the casino.

An inside view of the caboose located at Rhyolite, Nevada.

Looking inside the caboose.

Tom Kelly's hose made of glass bottles in Rhyolite, Nevada.

This house made of 30,00 glass bottles (mainly alcohol related– not surprising considering a couple of thousand thirsty miners), may be Rhyolite’s most famous building. 76-year-old Tom Kelly built it in 1905-06 and then auctioned it off at $5.00 a ticket.

Bottles used to make the Bottle House in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada.

A close up of the bottles. The marks on the bottom indicate the company that made the bottles. AB stands for American Bottling Company, for example. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Hostetter Bitters Bottle used in the Bottle House at Rhyolite, Nevada.

A few bottles are more prominently displayed, such as this Dr. J. Hostetter Bitters bottle. While it was sold to cure what ailed your tummy, it contained up to 47 % alcohol. Earlier, Hostetter had sold the bitters to Union soldiers during the Civil War to fight off diseases they might catch while chasing Confederates through southern swamps.

A final ghostly reminder from the Rhyolite graveyard.

NEXT BLOG: Traveling a couple of hundred yards west of Rhyolite, we visit the Goldwell Open Air Museum

Escape from Las Vegas to the Red Rock Canyon… The Desert Series

June 18, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 41 Comments

Depending on traffic conditions, Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is 30-45 minutes outside of Las Vegas. It is hard to imagine two more diverse worlds.

Las Vegas shouldn’t exist.

Why would any sane person build a city in middle of a desert where summer temperatures regularly climb over 110 degrees F and annual rainfall hangs around 4 inches? Sure, it’s a great place for jackrabbits and rattlesnakes and scorpions and cacti and desert tortoises. Maybe even lonely miners, ladies of the evening, jet jockeys, crotchety cowmen, and aliens belong there.

What Las Vegas would look like without water.

What Las Vegas would look like without imported water.

But putting 1.8 million people into Las Vegas and the surrounding Clark County– what were they thinking? Everything has to be imported… and I mean everything including the ever-precious water for golf courses and tourists with bucks to toss. Cut off either one and Las Vegas is SOL. The city returns to the jackrabbits and LA sucks up any extra water from the Colorado River.

A jackrabbit. (Photo at Red Rock Canyon Museum.)

“I want my desert back.” Hoppy Jackrabbit. (Photo from Red Rock Canyon Museum.)

MONEY, of course, is the answer for the city’s existence– obscene amounts of it, like bundles and bundles and bundles. Mafia hit men joined together with Mormon bankers following World War II to build the Flamingo Casino and start milking the proverbial cash cow. This kicked off a spree of building pleasure palaces that continues even today, with each one being bigger and glitzier than the one before. The names and faces have changed, but the basic underlying purpose remains the same: separate tourists from their hard-earned cash, as quickly as possible.

Down around Fremont Street a touch of Old Vegas here mobsters ruled as been preserved. If you go down there, be sure to visit the Mobster Museum.

Down around Fremont Street, a touch of Old Vegas where mobsters ruled has been preserved. If you go down there, and you should, be sure to visit the mobster museum. The cowboy above would have been the epitome of neon lighting in its day.

Most of the older casinos in Las Vegas have now been replaced with fantasy creations that out-Disney Disney.

Now I confess to liking a little glitter from time to time. A stroll down the Strip drops me into Venice, New York City, Paris or even a pyramid. While pale in comparison to the real thing, the moguls of Las Vegas have spent billions creating these make-believe worlds. And the price of admission is right: free. At least it is if you can avoid the multiple temptations. I can’t. I am sure there is a quarter video poker machine out there that will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams, or at least pay for dinner. Or, failing all of that, cover the tourist tax. (Remember here, however, that I also believe in UFOs.)

Venice, Las Vegas style complete with fake sky and a singing gondolier.

Venice, Italy from our 2012 visit. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

The real thing from our 2012 visit to the Mediterranean. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

There comes that inevitable moment, however, when I have to escape the glitter, noise, and crowds for the wilderness. I have to return to my roots, to commune with nature. Luckily, it’s easy from Las Vegas. Last week I took you out to the Valley of Fire, a short hour drive away. Today we are going to visit Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, which is even closer, 30–45 minutes.

Truth be told, if I have to choose between urban fantasies and natural wonders, I’ll go for the natural wonders. We found this desert tortoise outside the Red Rock Canyon Visitor Center but you might see them anywhere in the park, as the sign below attests.

This gem sits on the edge of Las Vegas. An easy morning trip will get you there, around the park and back. The park features a one way, 13-mile drive with numerous turnouts. There are several hiking trails that crisscross the area. Many people also enjoy biking the route. I highly recommend starting your trip at the excellent visitor’s center.

Here are some views along the way.

Be sure to stop off at the Visitor’s Center for an overview of Red Rock Canyon. In addition to having excellent information on the park, it includes lots of fun things like this kid-sized snail sculpture.

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

You can also preview your route from the Visitor’s Center. The road snakes around the colorful hill in the foreground. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Red sandstone hill in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area outside of Las Vegas, Nevada.

A close up of the same hill taken from the road. One of Red Rock Canyon’s many hiking trails is seen at the base of hill.

As in the Valley of Fire, the various rock formations in Red Rock Canyon are carved out of ancient sand dunes that have been turned to rock. Peggy captures one of the formations here.

Photograph of Red Rock Canyon near Las Vegas Nevada.

What she saw through her lens. (Photograph by Peggy Mekemson.)

Sand Stone Quarry pull off in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

Pull offs from the road provide a number of opportunities to stop and admire the scenery. I took this shot from the Sand Stone Quarry pull off.

Which is where I also found this flower.

Pictoglyphs found in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

We found these Native American pictoglyphs near Willow Springs. Petroglyphs are made by pecking the rock surface with a rock. Pictoglyphs are made with natural paint derived from minerals. flowers, etc. The pigment for these handprints came from hematite, iron oxide.

Scenic mountain in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

I enjoyed the contrast in this Red Rock Canyon scene.

Mountains in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area framed by a juniper tree.

Juniper provided a frame for this photo of Red Rock Canyon mountains.

I thought these twin cactus flowers would provide a fitting conclusion for my blog on Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

NEXT BLOG: Hello Death Valley!

Ancient Petroglyphs in the Valley of Fire State Park… The Desert Series

June 14, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 45 Comments

Petroglyphs found at the Valley of Fire State Park

Imagine walking around a corner and coming on this wall of petroglyphs. The red sandstone provided a dramatic canvas for early artists. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

I first became aware of art from traditional cultures as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Liberia, West Africa. The power of its simplicity and almost magical connection with another world caught my imagination– as it had artists such as Picasso and Matisse in the early 1900s. I collected several pieces and brought them home. Two of my favorites are the medicine mask and the bush devil shown below.

African medicine mask from the Ivory Coast.

African Bush Devil from Liberia

It was a natural transition for me to like and appreciate the rock art of Native Americans in the Southwestern United States. Found in hundreds of locations, it reflects several thousand years of cultural traditions. The arid climate of the Southwest combined with the fact that petroglyphs are carved in stone has allowed for their preservation. Only modern man with his graffiti poses a threat.

The Valley of Fire State Park near Las Vegas, Nevada hosts a significant collection of petroglyphs. The rock art was created by a culture known as the Basket makers (2000-1450 years ago) and the Anasazi/Ancient Pueblo group (1500-850 years ago). The Anasazi lived throughout the Southwest and were responsible for creating the impressive cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde National Park. They mysteriously disappeared around 1300, a fact which still has archeologists searching for answers.

The majority of the petroglyphs at Valley Of Fire are found at a site named Atlatl Rock by the park. The atlatl was a carved stick used for throwing spears and is featured in petroglyphs at the site. A steep, metal stairway leads up to the petroglyphs. Most tourists stop, climb the stairs and then hurry on their way. Walking a few hundred feet in either direction, which most tourists don’t do, leads to the discovery of hundreds of other petroglyphs– and Chuck. Following is a sample of what we found on our walk-about.

Petroglyph wall at Valley Of Fire State Park in Nevada.

A closeup of the petroglyph wall shown above. Can you find the dog?

Dog petroglyph at the Valley of Fire State Park.

The dog– or what I think is a dog, is located in the photo above on the left beneath what may be a river.

Petroglyph trees at Valley of Fire State Park in southern Nevada.

I have never seen such a direct representation of trees in petroglyphs. It is possible they are being struck by lightning. And check out the strange horned being on the right. He likely has shamanistic connections.

Petroglyph showing use of an atlatl at Valley of Fire State Park near Las Vegas, Nevada.

I am intrigued by this petroglyph. The figure in the upper left is using an atlatl to launch a spear. But follow the line down. It starts from his left leg, passes through what appears to be a fox or coyote, and then becomes a big foot. How would you interpret this? On the left, you can see graffiti scratched on the stone by more recent visitors.

Petroglyph showing birth at Nevada's Valley Of Fire State Park.

Early rock artists could be quite graphic in their depictions. This shows a child being born. I like to think of it as an early day birth announcement: “Big Bear and Bird Song are proud to announce the birth of their first daughter…” Not sure what the bird is doing sitting on her head. Maybe it’s a singing telegram. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Big horn sheep petroglyph at Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada.

Big horn sheep, from our experience, are the most common animal found on Southwest petroglyphs, which speaks to their importance, probably as a food source.

Donkey-like petroglyph at Valley of Fire State Park.

Given that donkeys weren’t around in North America when this petroglyph was created, I don’t have a clue what this animal is. The ears may be antlers, but even then… Any ideas?

Big horn sheep petroglyph with sun at Valley of Fire State Park.

The sun is shining down on this big horn sheep. What surprised me were the eyes. It is unusual to see eyes on an animal petroglyphs. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)