Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Random Photos
Because it's close to christmas, and because the weather is foul, I have decided to spend my time thinking sunny thoughts. So, to celebrate my sunny thoughts, here are a few photos available for sale on Redbubble.
They are available in cards as well as wall art, so if you like something, you can enjoy it here, hang it on your wall, or send it to your friends.
They are available in cards as well as wall art, so if you like something, you can enjoy it here, hang it on your wall, or send it to your friends.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Cold and rain
Yeah, not digging it. I do not like cold or rain, or for that matter wind, or clouds. I have a very narrow weather tolerance that relies heavily on sun and no clouds, or lots of sun and heat and some clouds, but cold and clouds are not an ideal mixture. In short, I dissapprove.
But, rather than whining about all the cold, windy, rainy days lining up to get me, I am going to celebrate their ickitude in the hopes that I will fool myself into disliking them less.
So, I will share the following photos, that could not have been taken without cold or rain, or general weather malaise.
Please remember that I write a column about outdoor recreation. I sure would be happy if you took a look, I guarentee you will enjoy it.
I also have photos for sale at Redbubble, I am adding more every day. They make excellent Christmas presents.
As for the pictures I promised, here goes:
But, rather than whining about all the cold, windy, rainy days lining up to get me, I am going to celebrate their ickitude in the hopes that I will fool myself into disliking them less.
So, I will share the following photos, that could not have been taken without cold or rain, or general weather malaise.
Please remember that I write a column about outdoor recreation. I sure would be happy if you took a look, I guarentee you will enjoy it.
I also have photos for sale at Redbubble, I am adding more every day. They make excellent Christmas presents.
As for the pictures I promised, here goes:
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| Dawn on a snowy day |
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| Kitty in the fog |
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| Fog and low lying clouds |
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| Ice on stone |
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| Yep, more ice on stone |
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| Snow on the sunflower |
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Sedona!
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| The red rocks before the snow |
Needless to say, our four night stay there every year is a big deal.
The fact that our four nights happen to fall in autumn, when the canyon is a stained glass masterpiece of changing leaves is just an added bonus.
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| Hubby |
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| View from one of our hikes |
This year, for the first time we awoke one morning to snow. I immediately wanted to capture all of the famous red rocks dusted with snow, and so after breakfast we headed down into town and then up Airport Road, which sports the best views of the valley.
Hubby stayed in the car while I made the hike to the lookout, as it was cold, and he could see no logical reason to hike up a cliff in near freezing weather so that I could apppease my inner Ansel Adams.
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| I took 20 shots of this damn tree |
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| Snow! |
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| More Snow! |
At the top, a man was poised behind a tripod, a man was hanging with friends, on a leash he held a beautiful border collie. He and the friends were cheering the gasping man up the last twenty feet of trail.
Around me mostly darkened with low hanging clouds, were all the named and unnnamed rocks of Sedona. The snow had not come far enough down the valley to affect Cathedral or Bell Rocks, but the cliffs to the North of Sedona were dusted a fine white. The sun may brief forays against these cliffs, and I shot what I could.
The man, when he could breathe again informed me, and everyone (though they seemed to know one another) that he was from New Jersey, and lived 18 feet from the shore. I believe he was inferring that the 4500' of elevation was his issue, not the hundred pounds or so he carried.
Hubby and I later took Schnebly Hill Road up in an effort to get to Flagstaff, but the road was closed about 7 miles up. It was a pretty drive up, and turned out to be a pretty drive down. We then took Oak Creek up to Flag.
While in Sedona we did some hiking, read some books, ate incredibly well, visited the galleries, Tlaquepaque, and of course one of our favorite towns, Jerome.
On the way home we listened to the football games on the radio and stopped in Prescott, another favorite town, where we had lunch, watched most of several football games, shopped at the antique shops, and then headed back to Phoenix.
Here is a link to further articles by me about Arizona, as well as up to date events happening in Southern Arizona
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
The Jamey Stillings photographs
This past week I went up to Phoenix, and as I had some extra time I decided to take in the Jamey Stillings show at the Phoenix Art Museum. I have wanted to see the installation of his work since I first saw the sign this last summer.
For those who have traveled to Las Vegas in the past several years, the construction of the enormous Mike O'Callaghan - Pat Tillman Bridge has no doubt captivated you as you drove below it on the Hoover Dam. The massive structure which oddly, dwarfs the Hoover Dam far below took seven years and $240 million dollars to build.
Jamey Stillings, a professional photographer was also captivated by the massive structure and spent the past few years making return trips to the area, where he was granted access to off-limits parts of the bridge, as well as photographing from helicoptors. He captured the massiveness of the project, and the slow transformation from two arcing pieces of steel and concrete to the final conclusion spanning Black Canyon, and rising far above the suddenly petite Hoover Dam. This bridge now stands as the longest bridge of its type in North America.
The photographs are stunning, many were taken just after dark, or prior to dawn, with the work site lit with massive floodlights, and the background sky a rich dark blue. The perspectives and color as well as the breadth of the bridge are captured perfectly.
Obviously, the pictures in this blog were taken by me, Jamey's can be seen at his website, the link for which is below.
Jamey Stillings has also produced a book of his work, but for those who wish to see these photos first hand, the exhibit is open at the Phoenix Art Museum until December 4th.
Remeber to read all of my Outdoor Recreation Articles here.
For those who have traveled to Las Vegas in the past several years, the construction of the enormous Mike O'Callaghan - Pat Tillman Bridge has no doubt captivated you as you drove below it on the Hoover Dam. The massive structure which oddly, dwarfs the Hoover Dam far below took seven years and $240 million dollars to build.
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| 2008 from Hoover Dam |
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| 2008 from Hoover Dam |
Jamey Stillings, a professional photographer was also captivated by the massive structure and spent the past few years making return trips to the area, where he was granted access to off-limits parts of the bridge, as well as photographing from helicoptors. He captured the massiveness of the project, and the slow transformation from two arcing pieces of steel and concrete to the final conclusion spanning Black Canyon, and rising far above the suddenly petite Hoover Dam. This bridge now stands as the longest bridge of its type in North America.
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| 2009 from Hoover Dam |
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| 2009 From Hoover Dam |
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| 2009 from road |
Obviously, the pictures in this blog were taken by me, Jamey's can be seen at his website, the link for which is below.
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| 2011 |
Remeber to read all of my Outdoor Recreation Articles here.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Redundant and disappointing names
As a kid I loved Picacho peak, from a certain angle, to me, it always looked like a coyote with his nose turned to the sky. This promotory stood alone (I largely ignored the nearby mountain range on the other side of the interstate as being wholy unrelated to Picacho), in the middle of an otherwise featureless plain that stretched from Tucson to the last pass before Phoenix, nearly 100 miles of nothing.
I imagined the name Picacho must mean something, something amazing a reverential enough to honor this solitary, canine shaped mount of volcanic rock. Picacho's historical relevance is further enhanced when you add the fact that it was the site of the western most Civil War Battle that produced a fatality. The Union lost, but the Confederates hardly did any better, and both, no doubt realized that they were fighting a war far off the beaten path.
I was, of course, devestated to learn that picacho means peak in Spanish.
Poor Peak Peak.
I, at the time, already knew of the regretably named Table Mesa in central Arizona (Table Table). And soon I would learn that Rillito means little river, thus the Rillito becomes the sadly redundant Little River River.
It's as bad as people calling the Rio Grande the Rio Grande River. Which has the same effect as saying 4am in the morning.
When I was younger I lived near where Davidson Creek and Cienega (swampy) Creek come together to form the Pantano (swampy) wash, right near the ghost town of Marsh Station. What were these people trying to tell us?
I imagined the name Picacho must mean something, something amazing a reverential enough to honor this solitary, canine shaped mount of volcanic rock. Picacho's historical relevance is further enhanced when you add the fact that it was the site of the western most Civil War Battle that produced a fatality. The Union lost, but the Confederates hardly did any better, and both, no doubt realized that they were fighting a war far off the beaten path.
I was, of course, devestated to learn that picacho means peak in Spanish.
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| Tell me you see the coyote |
Poor Peak Peak.
I, at the time, already knew of the regretably named Table Mesa in central Arizona (Table Table). And soon I would learn that Rillito means little river, thus the Rillito becomes the sadly redundant Little River River.
It's as bad as people calling the Rio Grande the Rio Grande River. Which has the same effect as saying 4am in the morning.
When I was younger I lived near where Davidson Creek and Cienega (swampy) Creek come together to form the Pantano (swampy) wash, right near the ghost town of Marsh Station. What were these people trying to tell us?
Thursday, October 13, 2011
California Condors
For someone who admires the lowly turkey vulture that frequents my home in the summer, the idea of an enormous relative up north in the canyon country has always captivated me. I followed with great interest the saga of the California Condor and it's precarious position on the brink of extinction.
The condor's return to it's California home and the high red cliffs of northern Arizona's canyon country took the longest conservation effort in American history.
The birds, once common from coast to coast and from Canada to Mexico, had declined to just nine wild birds living in California in 1987.
The condor's population had declined significantly from it's height during the pleistocene long before the Coquistadores arrived. The loss of megafauna at the end of the pleistocene decreased the territory to a narrow strip running from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Coast.
This population was strong until the turn of the twentieth century when egg collecting, shooting, falling prey to cyanide traps meant for coyotes, and mostly lead poisoning from lead fragments ingested with their carrion meals brought the birds to the brink of extinction.
In 1930's the population was extinct outside of California, and in 1982 the population was 22 animals. A captive breeding program was started in an effort to bring these birds back, however the wild population continued to plummet, and in 1985 numbered just nine. At that time the decision was made to remove the last condors from the wild.
The Audubon Society attempted to reverse this decision. Their legal brief says that there was no justification for the removal of the wild birds. And certainly one can see the Audubon's side, as they no doubt imagined that they would never witness another condor flying in their life times. That would no doubt be an enormous loss to the world.
On easter Sunday, 1987, the last condor was removed from the wild.
Since that time the population has reached 369. Reintroduction into the wild has been largely successful in spite of the condor's notoriously low reproduction rates. As of 2011, 191 are in the wild, either in California, Baja California or the Vermillion Cliffs area north of the Grand Canyon.
Since the Condor's release in the area of the Vermillion Cliffs, I have wanted nothing more than to see one of these amazing birds. They can fly up to 150 miles a day in search of carrion (the only thing that they will eat, the same as my beloved turkey vultures) and can reach altitudes of 15,000 feet.
So, last year, when I was once more scanning the skies above the south rim of the Grand Canyon, I was rewarded with the sight of an eerily enormous bird (there's no second guessing what you're seeing, this is the largest bird by far in Arizona (Some shore birds have similar wingspans, but Northern Arizona is far from the shore)). Soaring on great black and gray wings with spread fingertips, high above some of the prettiest country in the world was a condor.
The condor's return to it's California home and the high red cliffs of northern Arizona's canyon country took the longest conservation effort in American history.
The birds, once common from coast to coast and from Canada to Mexico, had declined to just nine wild birds living in California in 1987.
The condor's population had declined significantly from it's height during the pleistocene long before the Coquistadores arrived. The loss of megafauna at the end of the pleistocene decreased the territory to a narrow strip running from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Coast.
This population was strong until the turn of the twentieth century when egg collecting, shooting, falling prey to cyanide traps meant for coyotes, and mostly lead poisoning from lead fragments ingested with their carrion meals brought the birds to the brink of extinction.
In 1930's the population was extinct outside of California, and in 1982 the population was 22 animals. A captive breeding program was started in an effort to bring these birds back, however the wild population continued to plummet, and in 1985 numbered just nine. At that time the decision was made to remove the last condors from the wild.
The Audubon Society attempted to reverse this decision. Their legal brief says that there was no justification for the removal of the wild birds. And certainly one can see the Audubon's side, as they no doubt imagined that they would never witness another condor flying in their life times. That would no doubt be an enormous loss to the world.
On easter Sunday, 1987, the last condor was removed from the wild.
Since that time the population has reached 369. Reintroduction into the wild has been largely successful in spite of the condor's notoriously low reproduction rates. As of 2011, 191 are in the wild, either in California, Baja California or the Vermillion Cliffs area north of the Grand Canyon.
Since the Condor's release in the area of the Vermillion Cliffs, I have wanted nothing more than to see one of these amazing birds. They can fly up to 150 miles a day in search of carrion (the only thing that they will eat, the same as my beloved turkey vultures) and can reach altitudes of 15,000 feet.
So, last year, when I was once more scanning the skies above the south rim of the Grand Canyon, I was rewarded with the sight of an eerily enormous bird (there's no second guessing what you're seeing, this is the largest bird by far in Arizona (Some shore birds have similar wingspans, but Northern Arizona is far from the shore)). Soaring on great black and gray wings with spread fingertips, high above some of the prettiest country in the world was a condor.
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