The Anhinga Trail and Flamingo… Everglades National Park

March 14, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 21 Comments

If you’ve been following my blog over the past couple of months, you have already met Anhingas: In Africa. I showed one demonstrating the proper way to eat a fish in Chobe National Park, Botswana. We found this fellow with its googly eyes along the Anhinga Trail in the Everglades National Park, Florida.

Peggy and I traveled to Everglades National Park a few weeks ago, came back to our basecamp in Virginia, spent two weeks rushing to prepare for our five-month road trip, and are now in Terre Haute, Indiana sitting on the border of Missouri. We were supposed to be continuing west today, but the National Weather Service had a severe thunder and lightning storm warning up for Missouri. It’s not the type of weather to be out on the road, especially when pulling a small, light trailer.

The storm introduced itself last night. We could hear it approaching from miles away, at first a distant constant rumble, it became an earth-shaking roar. We hunkered down and wondered if Armageddon had arrived. I worried about hail. Baseball size chunks were crashing down on Kansas City. Serafina, our trailer, would not have been happy. But the storm passed us by without any damage.

On top of that, we had a propane leak, which can be more dangerous than softball-size hail. My solution, other than a few chosen words, was to shut the tanks off and wait until we could find an RV service facility to fix it, which often takes days or even weeks to schedule. Fortunately, we have options that allow us to function without propane.

Peggy and I have learned in our recent travels that mobile techs can solve most RV problems, however, often on a same-day basis and at a fair cost. Since we were here for the day, I called a local business in Terre Haute: At Your Service— Mobile RV Repair. And boy did we luck out. I reached the owner, Allen Grota, and he told me he would be over as soon as the storm stopped. He went through everything, tanks, connections and regulator. Finally he found the problem. The hose to the trailer had been left hanging next to one of our levelers and the lowering and rising of the leveler had cut it. As soon as this had happened, the regulator had shut down the tank. We weren’t in danger, but neither would we have propane. Allen then ran downtown to get what he needed to fix the problem. The cost was incredibly reasonable. And it turns out, Allen is a heck off a nice guy.

I’ve already done three posts on our Everglades trip: One on white pelicans, one on osprey, and one on the area around Everglade City on the Gulf Coast. I’ll conclude today featuring more of the Atlantic Coast side where we found the osprey and white pelicans. We entered the park at the Ernest F. Coe entrance. After stopping off at the Visitor Center, we made a beeline for the Anhinga Trail, just inside the park. Peggy and I had been there before and were quite impressed with the alligators and birdlife.

From there, we drove down through the park to Flamingo, where we would be glamping. We stopped along the way at various pulloffs to check out features of the Everglades emphasized by the National Park. First up, the Anhinga Trail.

Our first stop was to admire this impressive mangrove. Peggy provided perspective.

Shortly afterwards, we came on this colorful bird that was busily walking over lily pads. It’s a Purple Gallinule.

Next on our list of colorful birds along the Anhinga Trail was this great blue heron.

Here’s another shot of the googly-eyed Anhinga. One of its relatives was busily fishing in the pond below.

Anhinga style, only its head was above the water. We liked the shadow.

It had been fishing under water and came up for air here.

A turtle also swam by underwater while we were watching the Anhinga.

In addition to the wildlife, the scenery along Anhinga Trail is also quite attractive. A loud noise in the middle of it caught our attention…

A large alligator had raised its head among the trees and was bellowing.

A close up. Remember, one way you can tell the difference between a crocodile and an alligator is that the crocodile shows its teeth. The alligator doesn’t. Another is the alligator has a shorter snout.

Having made his point, whatever it was, the big fellow swam toward us.

One of our stops along the way toward Flamingo was the Mahogany Hammock Trail where we found this great egret. I called it scruffy neck. They say that great egrets have really long necks.That would certainly appear to be true from this photo. But it got longer…

We wondered if it had inherited giraffe genes!

Our glamping tent in Flamingo. It had a good view of Florida Bay. Low tide brought in various birds to take advantage of the the feast it made available.

Among them were these guys hungrily scarfing down miscellaneous delicacies, at least from their perspective. While they may seem like different birds, they are all white ibis in their various development stages from juvenile to adult.

I close with this shot of the egret. Next up, we take a look at some of the excellent wildlife carvings we found in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe and take you to the workshop where they were made. You will be surprised.

Who’s a Pretty Bird… Florida’s 10,000 Islands and Big Cypress National Preserve

March 6, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 28 Comments

Well maybe not pretty, but we thought the neck colors of this wood stork we found standing next to the road in Big Cypress National Preserve rather striking. We asked her if she hired out for delivering babies. Her response was, “Are they tasty?”

Peggy and I visited two different areas during our recent trip to the Everglades. The first was Everglade City that I will be blogging about today. It’s a small town on the southwest Gulf Coast that has a feel of old Florida. It’s far away from the huge populations and hustle-bustle of the southeast coast where Miami reigns. We could easily walk anywhere in town and meet friendly people, including a few old timers who fit the description of quirky. Our kind of folks.

The town’s primary source of income is the tourist trade that comes to experience the natural wonders and adventures provided by the Everglades 10,000 Islands and the Big Cypress National Preserve. Local businesses offer a variety of options for exploring inside and outside of the park from airboats and swamp buggies to eco-tours and kayaks. We chose a motorboat eco-tour for the 10,000 Islands area. To start, we drove south from Everglade City for a couple of miles to Chokoloskee Island and the end of the road. Our objective was the old Smallwood Store, which does double duty as a museum and a tour center. The store provided a perspective on the first white settlers in the area. We met out tour guide/boat captain there and headed out into the 10,000 Islands with one other couple. Following are a few highlights.

Three different species of mangroves provide the base for most of Florida’s 10,000 Islands. These trees have adaptations that allow them to take in extra oxygen and to remove salt that allows them to thrive in coastal intertidal zones. The creation of new islands is an ongoing process. 10,000 is a guesstimate at best.

Our two hour trip took us through the relatively open waterways shown above to the enclosed jungle-like canal shown here. Speed varied from zoom to put-put with occasional stops to admire the local flora and fauna.

The Everglades are one of the few places on earth where crocodiles and alligators co-exist. While our small, bouncy boat wasn’t the best platform for photography, it’s easy to see that this is a crocodile from its long, thin snout and visible teeth.

Our tour through the 10,000 Islands also produced this colorful bird with its interesting top-knot, a yellow-crowned night heron.

Something moving very fast left this trail through the water in a split second. Can you guess what it was?

It was a dolphin. Several of them had chased fish into the shallow water and were working to catch them. I had never realized how fast they are. Apparently they are quite common in the area. One tour operater offered, “If you don’t see dolphins on our trip we will refund your tickets.”

After our tour, we stopped at a local Chokoloski Island institution, the HavAnnA Cafe for lunch. It’s a charming, roofed-over, open air restaurant with lots of greenery— and chickens. A flock came clucking through while we were eating, eager to pick up any crumbs that had escaped to the floor. “The officials won’t let me sell their eggs to our customers,” the owner complained to us. I was both surprised and pleased that the officials allowed the chickens visiting rights at all. I did see chicken on the menu, however. I ordered a Cuban Sandwich instead.

We decided to drive ourselves on a tour of the Big Cypress National Preserve, which was just north of Everglade City. The name of the road we would start on is Birdon Road. How could we resist? And it was true. The three roads we drove over— Birdon, Wagon Wheel, and the Turner River— followed streams and were packed with birds, and alligators.

A pair of wood storks barely bothered to move off of Birdon road as we drove by.

An osprey seemed surprised by our presence.

A snowy egret hovered over a stream where it was fishing.

One of the defining chacteristics of a snowy egret is its yellow feet. Hard to miss!

One of the streams we followed through the Preserve.

This great white egret was surveying its world from the top of a tree.

We found another one fishing by the stream and took a close up.

A great blue heron flew away before we could take his photo. “Be that way,” I called after it and snapped a photo in flight.

An anhinga twisted its neck so it could keep an eye on us.

We also found alligators lurking along the stream. The clearness of the water and the time of day led to some interesting reflection shots.

And even more so here! I’ll wrap up today’s post with this ‘two tailed’ example. At first glance, Peggy and I thought we had spotted a monster! The next blog will be on the most dangerous animal in Africa, the Cape buffalo.

A Stunning Eagle and an Ancient Goose… On Safari 12

February 12, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 16 Comments

This stunning bird is an African sea eagle. Not surprisingly, it is the national bird of Malawi, Namibia, Zimbabwe and Zambia. Its national status, white head, and diet of fish immediately reminded us of America’s bald eagle. We had one that lived near our home in Oregon that flew by on occasion, looking for breakfast along the Applegate River. We watched it vary its diet one day, dive, and take a snake out of our yard, a very unhappy snake. The African fish eagle goes for reptiles on occasion as well. It has a taste for baby crocodiles. It also eats carrion like the bald eagle, but not with the same passion. When I lived in Alaska, I watched bald eagles tear into dead (very smelly) salmon with delight. I found it amusing that Ben Franklin felt that the eagle’s dining behavior gave it ‘bad character,’ and argued that the turkey should be the national bird of the fledgling nation.

Another perspective on the African fish eagle. The chestnut color on its wings adds to its beauty.

Sea eagles are thought to mate for life. We watched one in the distance as it added sticks to its nest. They tend to use the same nest year after year, adding on to it each time creating bigger and bigger homes that can reach over 6 feet in diameter.

It then provided us with an opportunity for an iconic photo. We thanked it.

We caught this photo of a juvenile fish eagle perched on a rock next to Lake Kariba in Zimbabwe.

We have a copy of an Egyptian Goose painting on our wall that I brought back from our trip up the Nile a year ago. The original is in the Egyptian National Museum and came from a temple where it was painted over 4000 years ago. It was considered a sacred bird. I doubt this goose (which is actually a duck) is aware of its ancient history, but it does seem to be aware that it is a ‘pretty bird.’

While the Egyptian Goose’s natural home is on the Nile and throughout sub-Saharan Africa, its striking good looks have led it to be imported into England and a number of other nations where it is now found in the wild.

Egyptian Geese form strong bonds and mate for life. We saw a number of couples. These two on the edge of Lake Kariba seem to be marching in unison.

We were in a park in Cape Town, South Africa when we came upon a gaggle Egyptian Geese.

A lone goose was perched above the gaggle, possibly on guard duty.

I snapped his photo. That’s it for today. On Wednesday we are going to feature the Naples’ Florida Botanical Gardens. On Friday, it will be all about crocodiles! We will be deep in the Everglades for the next few days and without an internet connection. I should be back online Thursday.

A Lizard With a 3rd Eye, Floppy Gets Svelte, And a Wren Talks— and Talks: Nature Tales Continued

May 31, 2020May 30, 2020 / Curt Mekemson / 25 Comments

It’s time for more nature tales brought to you by the wild animals that live on our property and entertain us continually by doing what comes naturally.

Let’s start with a very pregnant Floppy. This is what she looked like last week when she was grabbing a snack. I’d meant to catch her with a mouth full of oak leaves, but she’s fast when it comes to scarfing down food. It seems that the twigs sticking out of her mouth were dessert. She waddled off searching for more.

Here she is on Monday! Notice the difference! Our very pregnant deer had become svelte! She has had her fawn, or fawns. Don’t expect to see it for a couple of weeks, however. It is carefully hidden away in our canyon. Babies are born virtually odor-free so predators can’t smell them. Ask a coyote. They also know how to freeze in place. I’ll do one of those ‘cute’ posts if and when Floppy brings her fawn or twins around.

Our property is a regular herpetarium. We have wall to wall lizards ranging in size from tiny babies that have hit the ground running up to foot-long alligator lizards that can scare the heck out of you. We also have skinks, beautifully iridescent lizards with bright blue tails.

Fence lizards dominate, however. You can’t go outside without seeing dozens at this time of the year. They are fun to watch as they scamper across our yard in search of bugs. And they are even more entertaining when they try to impress another lizard by doing push-ups and puffing up their bodies to almost twice their normal size.

They are also quite curious. Or at least they seem to be. Anytime I am outside working around the house, they show up and watch me, often choosing a high perch for a better view. If I do something that chases them away, they’re back in a minute or two. The fellow below came out to watch me when I was building a brick planter around our yellow rose bush earlier this week.

I was curious about the white spot on the back of its head and did some research. I learned that it is called the parietal or third eye. While the lizard can’t ‘see’ out of the eye, it is light sensitive. When a hawk flies over, it skedaddles! A kid’s hand poised to catch it has the same result. The eye is connected to the pineal gland and helps control circadian and seasonal rhythms.

I think we have seen all of one wren since Peggy and I moved here. But a couple of weeks ago, a pair showed up looking for a home. It was pretty funny. The male wren, it turns out, is responsible for house hunting and nest building. The location may be a tree cavity, a birdhouse, a drain pipe, etc. Even an old shoe will do in a pinch. Once he finds what he considers the ideal site, he fills it with twigs and invites his lady love over to check it out. She’s the one that makes the ultimate decision about his nest finding abilities. I can see where she might be concerned if he has picked an old shoe. The poor guy may find himself building 3 or 4 nests before she finally says yes.

I think ours must have been on number four— or maybe five— when he showed her our bird house. He seemed very eager, or maybe he was nervous, like a real estate agent about to close or lose a big sale. He talked and talked and talked. Finally, she hopped in to take a look. And immediately hopped out with a feather in her mouth that she spit out. I could almost hear the discussion. “You are trying to sell me a used house!” “No, no sweetie. Think of it as an already feathered nest.” Whatever he said, she went back inside and came out with another feather. This time she ate it! Apparently that meant yes because the little guy started hopping around and talking twice as fast. Then he zoomed off to pick up some grass to add to the nest. Soon, they were both busy at work.

Here’s the new home. BTW, the fence you can see in the background was what the fox was climbing up.

The female pokes her head out to take a break from sitting on the eggs.

And the male drops by to visit with a typical wren tail flip. Soon he will be busy helping with feeding responsibilities.

Peggy put this unique bird house on top of one of the 10-foots posts surrounding our garden. She thought of it as a decoration…

But a pair of tree swallows thought otherwise! Now, Peggy is scolded any time she works in her garden. I could watch these birds forever as they perform their incredible aerial acrobatics. They arrive here in March and will leave once their babies can fly. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

I’ll close today with a few more photos of the deer herd. Do you remember when I did the post on young buck and his fearless leaps over a wall and a fence to get at our honeysuckle and native shrub garden? Well, it turns out he isn’t so young…

You have to have some years behind you to grow a rack like this. He will be at least a three pointer and possibly a four pointer. If you have ever had the feeling that someone or something is watching you…

Here he is under the madrone in our backyard. His antlers will be in velvet and continue to grow for at least a couple more months. The rounded knobs suggest that each of the top four antlers may split again. If so, he could be a five pointer!

The bucks hang out together at this time of the year. While the older fellow stretched out beneath the madrone, the kid stopped for a drink of water in the bird bath. He also had a message…

Tomorrow’s post: Who knows? Not me. (grin)

A Fox Climbs Our Fence, A Coyote Trots By, a Bumble Bee Bites Plants and Other Tales of Nature: Part 1

May 26, 2020May 25, 2020 / Curt Mekemson / 33 Comments

Peggy and I were sitting in our library downing an English muffin and a bowl of fruit on Friday morning when a movement outside caught my attention. A fox was climbing our eight-foot deer fence after a Stellar jay that was hassling it. Once again we found ourselves in a zoo looking out from our comfortable cage. The fox climbed down, made its way through our shrub garden, and climbed under the fence. I took this photo right after it climbed under the fence.

We weren’t fast enough with our cameras to catch the fox climbing the fence. We sat there in awe for too long. But fortunately, the fox was having a leisurely morning and hung around for a few minutes..

Given its reddish color, my first thought was red fox, but its black capped grey tail and climbing ability quickly identified it as a grey fox. Grey foxes are the only ones that climbs trees (and apparently deer fences). They have even been known to raise their families in tree dens high above the ground. We catch glimpses of them occasionally on our property but normally they are secretive. One time, we watched a doe stalk one, following along behind, carefully raising and placing each hoof. That was neat.

My guess is that they have a den (or dens) on our property. The male and female raise the kits together. For the first couple of weeks the mother tends to her babies while the male hunts and supplies food. Our experience is that they form a close bond. A few years ago a fox was run over on the highway below our property. Each night we would hear its partner howling down on the road. Only when I went down and buried the fox did the howling end.

The fox plopped down in our driveway for a brief rest. I suspect he was on his way home after an early morning hunt. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

He then looked up at us. Note the short legs. The literature says that’s what allows foxes to climb trees.

Having enjoyed the fox, it was only appropriate that we would see a coyote as well. We met up with it last week as we were hiking in the forest behind our house. It seemed as curious about us as we were about it.

It came trotting up through the forest and didn’t see us at first.

Then he stopped and checked us out. I thought it looked quite regal. The coyote stared at us for a couple of minutes. I thought it might continue up toward us but it headed off in the other direction, stopping every few feet to look back at us.

This is hot off the press, and it isn’t about Covid-19. Woohoo! I was skimming through Apple News this morning and I came across an article that bumble bees bite plants. How could I not read the article? Had the plants somehow irritated the bees. Was there a bee-plant war going on? No, there wasn’t a war. The bees depend on the pollen from the plants for their survival. But they were irritated. The plants weren’t blooming and providing the pollen. So the bees bit the plants to speed up the process. Apparently it cuts two to three weeks off the wait period. I rushed outside to see if I could spot a bumble bee biting a plant. No luck, the flowers were already blooming. I did catch a couple of photos of bumble bees harvesting pollen, however. I conclude my post with them. Bzzzzzzz.

Bumble bee harvesting pollen from the clover that grows in our back yard.

NEXT POSTS: Tomorrow I’ll take you window shopping in Venice. Thursday: Part 2 of nature tales. Among other things, you will meet a Buddhist lizard.

A Journey Underground… Oregon Caves National Monument

July 24, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 34 Comments

Rock formations in Oregon Caves National Monument.

Unusual rock formations created by minerals from dripping water led the Oregon Caves to be set aside as a national treasure in the early 1900s.

Claustrophobia: A fear of confined places

Acrophobia came up in my blog about Mt. Whitney. No surprise there, thousands of feet are between the hiker and a rather unfortunate landing. Splat! It’s a reasonable fear. Claustrophobia is just as real as fears go, but more irrational. The odds of being squished in a tight space— unless you are Indiana Jones or a misplaced wookie caught in a starship’s garbage disposal unit— are between slim and none. Don’t sweat it, right?

Try telling that to someone who is claustrophobic. I suggest you don’t stand between her and the exit. I get it. I am not particularly fond of enclosed spaces myself, whether they are physical or mental. I don’t like driving through tunnels and I hate freeway construction where imposing cement barriers shrink down to your vehicle’s width and provide a view of what hell is like. And that’s even before the gigantic truck comes barreling down on you and breathes fire up your tail pipe because you insist on driving 45 MPH in a 45 MPH zone. At least I can take my revenge when they put up plastic cones instead of cement barriers, as Peggy might tell you. Crunch. Curt strikes another blow for freedom.

Where does this leave me with caving, or spelunking, as the sophisticates call it? How do I feel about getting down on my belly and crawling through a space my skinny fourteen-year-old body would have gotten stuck in several hundred feet under ground? Not a problem; it’s not on my to-do list. But for some unfathomable reason, the standard well-known cave tours don’t bother me. In fact, I find them fascinating. Stalactites and stalagmites tickle my fancy and stir my imagination.

Photo showing how stalactites grow in Oregon Cave National Monument.

These small stalactites show tiny drops of mineral laden water that come down from a tube in the center of the stalactite. They will add about an inch of growth in a thousand years. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

This photo from Oregon Cave National Monument shows the development of stalactites (coming down) and stalagmites (coming up). Eventually they meet, as demonstrating on the left. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

This photo from Oregon Cave National Monument shows the development of stalactites (coming down) and stalagmites (going up). Eventually they meet, as demonstrated on the left. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

So when Peggy suggested we head off to the Oregon Cave National Monument for her birthday a couple of weeks ago, I readily agreed. We’d been talking about it ever since we moved to Oregon. Except for the last few miles of the road that shot up a mountain and redefined the meaning of curves, the hour and a half drive was quite pleasant.

A ranger greeted us and gave us the bad news. We should expect a two-hour wait. He also wanted to know if we had been in any eastern caves in the last five years. If so— no go. White nose syndrome was wiping out eastern bats. So far their western cousins had lucked out. It had been six years since we had visited Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. We were in by a cat’s whisker.

Our wait turned out to be just over an hour. There was barely time for lunch and a look through the visitor’s center before we found ourselves at the cave entrance shivering from a blast of 44˚ F air. “Cave’s breathe,” our guide stated. He also told us about the 500 narrow stairs we would be negotiating and the low ceilings. I would be bent over double with my size 14 shoes balanced precariously on wet slippery rocks. I looked enviously at a small girl who would be standing up straight with her feet resting solidly on the narrow stone steps. She gave me an impish grin.

Stone steps in Oregon Caves National Monument

Dimly lit stone steps make their way up from what is known as Ghost Cave. The narrowest ones were about half the depth of my size 14 shoes. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

The Oregon Caves are somewhat unusual in that they are made out of marble. Once upon a time they were a coral reef far out in the Pacific. Plate tectonics sent the Pacific Plate diving under North America and scraped off portions of the ocean floor some 100 million years ago, adding new land to the continent. The tremendous heat and pressure involved changed the lime into marble. Folding, faulting and water created the caves.

This map shows the location of Oregon Caves National Monument. (Center Right)

Lit up stalactites in Oregon Caves National Monument.

Artificial lighting adds to the magic of caves.

Another example of the impact of lighting. The rock on the left had been signed by all of the members of a geology class that had visited in the 1800s. Strict rules are now in place to protect the cave.

Unusual stone structure in Oregon Caves National Monument.

This unusual structure caught my camera’s attention.

Ghostly rock waterfall at Oregon Caves National Monument.

Peggy captured this ghostly rock waterfall. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Cave exit at Oregon Caves National Monument.

A view of where we came out from our 90 minute tour.

Standing on top of the mountain that contains Oregon Caves National Monument.

Tour over, Peggy and I stand on top of the mountain that contains the caves. This photo gives a perspective on the surrounding countryside.

NEXT BLOG: Peggy and I are headed off for a brief hiking tour at Mt. Rainier National Park for the next several days so I may be out of computer range. When I come back I will report on my recent experience as a chicken farmer: The Chicken Whisperer.

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 / 32 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.)

The Panamint Range of Death Valley: A Rattlesnake, Flowers, and Very Large Kilns… The Desert Series

June 28, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 30 Comments

We found this rather handsome fellow on our way up to Wildrose in Death Valley. Check out the shadow! (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

I crossed over the Panamint Range once on a bicycle. It wasn’t fun. Or let me put it this way, the nine-mile climb up out of Panamint Valley wasn’t fun. It was at the beginning of my 10,000-mile solo trip around the US. I only had seven days of cycling behind me so I was still getting in shape (massive understatement). Adding to the challenge, I was carrying over 50 pounds of gear, everything I needed to survive six months on the open road.

Standing out of the saddle in my lowest gear, and exerting every bit of muscle power I could, I averaged two miles an hour. And yes, it would have been much easier to get off my bike and push. But I am a stubborn when it comes to things physical. The ride down, on the other hand, was lovely and about 20 times as fast.

Our Toyota Tacoma thought nothing of the climb out of Death Valley to the Emigrant Canyon Road and on to Wildrose Canyon. In fact the pickup loves a challenge and likes to be on the road as much as Peggy and I do. Or maybe I am anthropomorphizing a bit too much here. (And don’t you just love that word, all 18 letters of it.)

We were lollygagging along on the Wildrose road and stopping often to photograph flowers when we passed the rattlesnake. Peggy was driving. “Stop, back up,” I urged. Laughing, Peggy complied. She’s used to my fascination with rattlesnakes. I’ve had dozens of encounters over the years. One of my favorite tricks is to get down on my belly in front of them to take photos as they crawl toward me. Unfortunately, my headshots are usually blurry. Could it be that I am backing up too fast?

Panamint Rattlesnake in the Panamint Mountains, Death valley.

Having determined that we weren’t edible, the large snake went on his way. Isn’t the head magnificent? It shouts pit viper.(Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

This guy was a beauty, a Panamint rattler (Crotalus stephensi), and I would guess almost record size. He was on the driver’s side of the truck so I handed Peggy her camera and she snapped three shots. And then, before I could get out to the truck for some close-ups, she stepped on the gas and we were out of there. Can you imagine that? I whined for an hour.

The flowers soon assuaged my disappointment, however. At our elevation of around 5,000-7,000 feet, they were everywhere. While we were too late to catch flowers blooming in the valley, our trips up to Dante’s View and Wildrose more than made up for it.

Desert flowers in the Panamint Range of Death Valley.

I was taken by this old desert road that cut off the main road and was covered with flowers as far as the eye could see.

Hill covered with flowers in the Panamint Range of Death Valley.

And how about this hillside?

Prickly poppies growing in the Panamint Range of Death Valley.

These prickly poppies were attractive. Petals were tissue paper thin. The red beetle was quite busy.

I don’t know what this striking yellow beauty was. Maybe one of my readers can identify it. (Finally found it in one of my field guides. It’s called Desert Plume and is a member of the mustard family.)

Lupine growing in the Panamint Range of Death Valley.

This lupine, however, is an old friend. It is common throughout the west. Peggy is even growing some. What was amazing about this plant was its size. I would say around four feet tall.

Beyond the rattlesnake and the flowers, the highlight of the tour was the ten charcoal kilns built in by the Modoc Consolidated Mining Company in 1877 to prepare charcoal to be used in smelters at its lead-silver mine about 25 miles away. Local pinion pines and junipers were cut down and hauled to the kilns. It took approximately four cords of wood to fill one kiln. After 6-8 days for burning and another 5 days for cooling the charcoal was then transported by an army of jackasses.

The kilns, which were used for about three years, have sat quietly for over a century. Navajo Indian stonemasons from Arizona restored the kilns in 1971. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

An interesting aside is that George Hearst was the principal investor in the mining company. His son, William Randolph Hearst, would go on to found the Hearst media empire. And it was his great grand-daughter, Patty Hearst, who was kidnapped by the Symbionese Liberation Army in the 70s. Where this is going is that I met Patty and her abductors in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I was up with some friends scouting out streams for trout fishing when a van roared around us and got stuck in a snow bank, which we found rather amusing. A group of folks came tumbled out of the van including a young woman who came over to talk with us while her companions tried to dig out of the snow.

“Do you have any guns in your car?” she asked. “My friends have been teaching me how to shoot automatic weapons in the Bay Area and we are up here for practice today.” That’s when the alarm bells started going off for me. We were talking to Patty Hearst and her ‘friends’ were SLA members. When Patty wandered off to check on the van’s progress, I whispered my concerns to my friends and suggested we help get the van on its way, which is what we did.

But so much for the detour (grin). I was either going to tell you stories about rattlesnakes today or the Patty Hearst. Patty won. Back to the kilns.

Charcoal kiln in Panamint Mountains in Death Valley.

Peggy provides perspective on the size of the kilns that are 25 feet tall.

Back view of charcoal kilns in Death Valley.

Back view of kilns showing window where smoke escaped. You can still smell the smoke inside.

View looking out from inside a charcoal kiln in Death Valley.

View from inside the kiln looking out at the pines.

A final view from Wildrose. What appears to be puffy white clouds on the horizons are the snow-covered Sierra Nevada Mountains.

NEXT BLOG: What’s a desert without a ghost town, or two. We head off to the old mining town of Rhyolite sitting on the edge of Death Valley.

Death Valley Part II: We Are At Zabriskie Point but Where Is R2-D2… The Desert Series

June 25, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 28 Comments

Erosion of rocks created in an ancient lake bed gives Zabriskie Point its unique look.

Erosion of rocks gives Zabriskie Point its unique look.

Zabriskie Point is one of the most photographed spots in Death Valley. Tour busses stop here and disgorge thousands of passengers annually. Everyone comes armed with a camera, or at least a cell phone camera. Twenty shots or so later they are on their way, scurrying back to the bus and Death Valley’s next must-see sight. We are more leisurely in our approach, but we also take a more photos. Erosion is king here, wearing away rocks that were deposited in a lakebed some five million years ago– back before tectonic forces created Death Valley and back before the region became a desert.

As in other parts of Death Valley, the rocks of Zabriskie Point are multi-hued. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Manly Beacon or Point, is another popular view from Zabriskie Point. Justifiably so.

Peggy and I were at Zabriskie Point in the late afternoon. The rocks above Manly Beacon seemed to take on an inner glow.

The volcanic caprock provides an interesting contrast. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

A three-mile trail leads down to the Valley floor from Zabriskie Point and passes through Golden Canyon on the way. For fans of Star Wars IV, segments of the movie were filmed in Golden Canyon. The diminutive, eye glowing Jawas captured R2-D2 and C-3PO there. So you can think of Death Valley as Tatooine, the home planet of Luke Skywalker. (Tunisia was also used for scenes on Tatooine.)

Golden Canyon looking out toward Death Valley. This photo and the one below were taken from an earlier trip. R2-D2 and C-3PO were captured in the canyon by the Jawas.

Golden Canyon looking up toward Zabriskie Point. I am on the trail. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Here’s some Star Wars trivia I picked up when doing research for this blog that you can use to wow your friends: sounds made by dogs, bears, lions, tigers and walruses were combined to create Chewbacca’s voice.

The Twenty Mule Team Canyon that I blogged about in my last post starts a mile or so above Zabriskie Point. A few miles farther, a road jogs off to the right that leads to Dante’s View, which towers some 5000 feet above the valley floor. The last part of the road is steep and narrow but the view is worth it.

Looking down into Death Valley from Dante’s View.

Dante's View provides a spectacular view of Death Valley.

Another perspective.

Given the higher elevation at Dante’s View, spring flowers were still blooming.

Indian Paintbrush at Dante's View in Death Valley National Park.

This is an Indian Paintbrush.

I took this photo to capture the very impressive alluvial fan spreading out on the Death Valley floor far below Dante's View. Debris coming down off the mountain had built this fan up over thousands of year.

I took this final photo from Dante’s View to capture the very impressive alluvial fan spreading out on the Death Valley floor far below. Debris coming down off the mountain had built this fan up over thousands of year.

NEXT BLOG: Traveling into the Panamint Range of Death Valley: wild flowers, huge charcoal kilns, and one very large, irritated rattlesnake.