landscape – Page 13 – Streaming thru America

Mercer’s Swan Song

December 7, 2017December 7, 2017Posted in Architecture, Canada, landscape, Photo ChallengeTagged Bonaventure Cemetary, cheeky, Conrad Aiken, Johnny Mercer, Savannah9 Comments

High on a bluff, overlooking the Wilmington River, sits Bonaventure Cemetery, 160 acres of inspired Southern Gothic funerary art and monuments worthy of any fabled ghost story setting, and one of the most hauntingly beautiful resting places found in America.

Named Bonadventure–good fortune in Italian–and conceived as a 9,920-acre plantation stretching from Ebenezer to Sunbury, Georgia, the land owners, Tattnall Sr. and Mullryne (son and father-in-law) mistakenly sided with King George III during the Revolutionary War, and were immediately denounced as traitors and stripped of their holdings by a Georgia council.

Tattnall Jr. returned from England soon after the war and reacquired a 750-acre tract of the property, where he settled with his Savannah-bred wife and family, before selling to Peter Wiltberger in 1846, who converted the land to a cemetery.

The day of our visit was dreary and wet, and it seemed fitting that the Spanish moss draped over 300 year-old oak trees would be weeping from the occasional drizzle.

Oddly, two sets of gates provide access to the graveyard: a Christian wing to left…

and a Jewish gate to the right.

We approached a gravedigger who was stepping out of his pick-up.

“I couldn’t help but notice the Jewish stars on top of the gate posts,” observed Leah.

“Yes, ma’am,” responded Doug, “This here’s a public cemetery.”

So Christians and Jews are buried together?” I questioned.

“Yes, sir,” agreed Doug. “Each religion’s got their own separate sections, and…”

“And there’s still room inside?” Leah interrupted.

“Yes, ma’am. I dug two fresh graves today. But you can’t buy your way in anymore, cuz everything’s all sold out long ago. But people keep askin’. I guess they’s dyin’ to get in,” joked Doug.

Fascinating!

We set off to explore. The cemetery was unexpectedly quiet for being a top attraction for curiosity seekers, and the bereaved.

We were on separate missions. Leah went in search of her namesake, and found her in a short matter of time.

Whereas, I was in search of Johnny Mercer’s memorial–the legendary lyricist who penned over 1500 songs, was nominated for 14 Academy Award nominations, won Oscars for The Days of Wine and Roses, Moon River, In the Cool, Cool, Cool, of the Evening, and On the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, and co-founded Capitol records–which turned into more of a scavenger hunt.

Resorting to the internet, I discovered the section and plot (H-48), but finding it was another matter, since the layout is unlike any grid, with over 31,000 burial records to date.

Leah went one way, and I went another. We wandered aimlessly through rows and rows of plots till we plotzed. I quickly understood why guided tours through Bonadventure Cemetery are so popular.

Eventually, I got some help from a pair of caretakers who were blowing damp leaves across the dirt and gravel roads. They were eager to help, but my inability to translate Malaysian, turned my request into a game of Charades.

Using broken English and hand gestures, they redirected us to the general vicinity, where we crossed paths…

with officers…

and gentlemen…

ladies…

…and children.

We wound our way through Section H until signs pointed to Johnny Mercer’s shrine of hits.

Also in the vicinity, lies Georgia’s poet laureate and tragic orphan, Conrad Aiken,

who is buried beside his father who murdered his mother, before turning the gun on himself when Conrad was 11-years old. Conrad went on to study at Harvard, where he was mentored by T.S. Eliot, and won the Pulitzer Prize for Selected Poems in 1930.

Another literary thread woven through the Bonaventure fabric includes New York Time’s longest-standing (216 weeks) bestseller, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, a true tale written by John Berendt.

The book cover featured Sylvia Shaw Judson’s Bird Girl, who graced the graveyard in relative obscurity for decades, until fans of the book sought out the statue’s location at Bonaventure, and began chipping away at its base for souvenirs. Eventually, Bird Girl was rescued and resettled in Savannah’s Telfair Museum of Art, where she can rest in one piece.

Bonaventure Cemetery under overcast skies during late autumn appears mostly monochromatic and presents a solemn and sombre mood. There are occasional pops of color from late blooms, to liven up a lifeless location,

but I was unprepared for the cheeky display I discovered on my way out.

For me, this represents a bonafide celebration of a life once lived, versus a death soon forgotten.

Southern (C)Harm

December 4, 2017July 11, 2018Posted in Architecture, hiking, landscape, National Parks, Photography, travelTagged Charleston Harbor, Fort Moultrie, Old Slave Mart4 Comments

Charleston, South Carolina has a picture postcard personality with an imperfect and unpleasant past–mostly because Charleston was built on the backs of slaves for nearly 200 years, with nearly 1.5 million slaves passing through Charleston Harbor until the 13th Amendment to the Constitution abolished slavery in 1865–yet the appeal and beauty of Charleston cannot be denied.

A tour of Fort Moultrie on Sullivan’s Island offers a historical narrative that addresses the highs and lows of the Low Country from a military perspective.

The earliest protection of Charleston’s harbor came from its outlying shoals, forcing ship traffic from the south, and across Sullivan’s Fort.

Early defense of the harbor relied on a sixteen-foot thick sandwich between two slices of palmetto log-walls that British bombardments found impossible to penetrate. In June 1776, nine British warships were driven off under a hail of smooth-bore cannon fire during the Revolutionary War.

Consequently, Charleston was saved and the fort was renamed in honor of its commander, William Moultrie (1730-1805).

In 1794, with the addition of Vermont and Kentucky to the Union, a new 15 star/15 stripe flag flew beyond the sally port…

over a newly-styled defense system, with walls of earth and timber rising 17 feet above the shoreline.

In 1804, a hurricane destroyed the fort, calling for Congress to appropriate funds for a Second American System of coastal fortifications, including an 1809 rebuild of Fort Moultrie fortified with brick,

and the addition of Fort Sumter to its south.

South Carolina’s secession from the Union in 1860 provoked the Civil War. Moultrie was quickly abandoned in favor of Sumter’s stronger defense system. However, the Confederates bombed Sumter into submission three months later, gaining control of the harbor–and successfully defended against a Federal fleet of Ironclads with a string of 32-pounders lined across its battlements–until Charleston surrendered in 1865.

Fort Moultrie continued to modernize, and sustained to protect the southern coastline through both World Wars…

…by coordinating all harbor defenses through its Harbor Entrance Control post,

until its decommission in 1947.

Sullivan’s Island was also the first line of defense against virulent disease, providing “pest houses” for in-transit African slaves between 1700 and 1775. who were processed and quarantined prior to dispatch to the Slave Mart in Charleston,

suggesting a crude and culpable counterpart to white immigration at Ellis Island.

The Old Slave Mart–now converted to a museum–tells the painful story of America’s darkest days in a straightforward way…

offering a self-guided tour through an unimaginable time when freedom was confiscated for a price,

and families were ripped apart,

so America could prosper.

Yet, such a beautiful city has been wrought in the wake of such misery.

But lest we forget:

Serenity Now

November 30, 2017November 30, 2017Posted in Architecture, landscape, Photo Challenge, Poetry, travelTagged New York City, serene5 Comments

New York City is an acquired taste.

To many who live and work in haste,

the din of Manhattan traffic is the soundtrack of modern mayhem.

And the synthetic daylight of Times Square practically requires sunglasses,

regardless of the weather or time of day.

While many visitors may revel in the tumult,

equal numbers endure the assault,

induced by constant hustle and bustle.

But the Herald Square Angels

have a secret to share:

“Step back to infinity,

wait for twilight to set the city zest aglow,

and bask in the serenity.”

Nowhere, No Way

November 26, 2017November 26, 2017Posted in hiking, History, landscape, money, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travelTagged Bryson City, Donald Trump, Great Smoky Mountains, Road to Nowhere, Swain County17 Comments

A seven-mile stretch of road from the southern lip of Great Smoky Mountain National Park to its tunnel terminus remains a source of irritation for generations of locals, and a symbol of an unfulfilled promise from the Federal bureaucracy,

which once pledged to replace submerged Highway 288, but lost their way amid a forest of red tape and environmental concerns.

Fontana Dam begat Fontana Lake in 1941 after the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA)–in concert with the Army Corps of Engineers–built a hydroelectric plant for ALCOA in consideration of the military’s demand for aluminum essential for aircraft, ship-building, and munitions during WWII. Consequently, communities and roads disappeared under the high-water reserves, and townspeople lost their land and their livelihoods.

In exchange for losing Highway 288, the displaced people of Swain County were promised a road north of Fontana Lake–through Great Smoky Mountain park lands–for continuing access to their ancestral cemeteries left behind, and compensation for relocation assistance. However, most of the 1,300 citizens who resisted the move never saw a dime after ultimately fleeing the rising waters.

Thirty years later, after building 7.2 miles of road and a quarter-mile tunnel, appropriated funds had dried up and the project stalled. By 2003, the National Park Service eventually revealed a feasibility study listing several considerations for public debate, and in 2007, issued a 13-page report detailing the government’s position, electing the No-Action Alternative:

The No-Action Alternative would forego any improvements to Lake View Road with the exception of routine maintenance. Under this alternative, there would be no changes to the existing conditions within the study area. No compensation would be provided in lieu of building the road. NPS would continue to provide transportation across Fontana Lake for annual cemetery visits and would maintain current amenities, policies, and practices of GSMNP.

Subsequently, Swain County sought a monetary settlement, demanding $52 million from the Department of Interior for defaulting on the original agreement. Yet to date, only $12 million has been paid, thus generating a pending lawsuit for the balance of money owed.

After learning about the history, Leah and I decided to make the pilgrimage to see this road for ourselves. We departed Bryson City on a dreary autumn morning, surrounded by mist and brisk winds that had us zipping up and foraging for hats and gloves from a backseat storage bin.

The drive along Fontana Road took us through bucolic farms and pastoral settings.

We followed the lightly traveled road until we reached the park entrance, and continued along a windy incline dotted with shrouded overlooks of the Tuckasegee River below us.

We knew we had reached the end of the line when we crossed over Nolands Creek,

and encountered a barricade of steel poles that barred us from approaching the tunnel around the bend.

The ¼-mile tunnel was dark and dank. And while a flashlight was a handy accessory for navigating the rutted road and avoiding scattered animal feces,

it became an essential tool for spotlighting the pervasive high school graffiti that randomly “decorated” the oft-covered whitewashed walls–

–most of it, a reflection of egocentric teenagers flexing their hormones…

…but in other cases, the graffiti represented a cathartic release of current political expression–

–bringing new meaning to an erstwhile patch of pavement.

As advertised, the “Road to Nowhere” terminated on the back side of the tunnel,

casting a glimpse of an uncertain future fraught with empty promises disguised as good intentions.

Parhelic Circle with Sundogs

November 16, 2017January 4, 2018Posted in landscape, National Parks, Photo Challenge, Photography, travelTagged Andrews Bald, Astronomy, experimental, Great Smoky Mountains, Parhelic circle, sundogs2 Comments

While enjoying the exhilarating views of the Great Smoky Mountains from the vantage of Andrew Bald’s grassy slopes, a narrow ribbon of color caught my eye just as the clouds were parting on the right side of the sun. I knew I didn’t have much time, so I refocused my attention on capturing my discovery through the lens of my camera, while trying not to blow-out the exposure by shooting into the sun.

“Ooh, a rainbow,” I thought, “That’s cool.” I turned to the few hikers present, now relaxing after the trek down from Clingmans Dome.

“Did anyone else see the rainbow?” I asked around to no one in particular.

Their casual shrugs spoke volumes. Glancing back to the sky, I understood their ambivalence; the rainbow had already vanished.

After a snack and a brief respite, it was time to start up the mountain before darkness descended, but not without one last look as I was leaving the clearing. That’s when I noticed–if only for an instant–a reciprocal slice of color on the left side of the sun…

…and then it was gone. Leah and I ascended the trail in sufficient time for photographing a glorious sunset over Clingmans Dome, and nothing more was considered, until it was time to construct the post, On Top of Old Smokey.

While putting my thoughts together with the TV running in the background, I became distracted by a local meteorologist from Charlotte, who was standing in front of a projected image submitted by a viewer that looked very similar to photographs I had recorded on Andrew Bald.

And then he replaced the image with this graphic:

while giving a brief explanation of the earth science behind the phenomenon of a parhelic circle with flanking sundogs.

That’s when I realized I had captured something special…caused by sunlight refracting off tiny ice crystals in the atmosphere, and creating a larger halo around the sun.

I returned to the file to re-examine the photographs, and wondered–by chance, and given limited resources–if I could stitch the two views together using Windows Publisher to reproduce the full effect, even though the photographs of both sides of the sun were taken minutes apart from two different viewpoints and parallax.

While the technique is purely experimental, I believe the result comes very close to interpreting “what could have been” had the clouds not interfered with my “rainbows”…

…all of which makes for a more remarkable discovery, given the Great Smoky Mountain smoke.

On Top of Old Smokey

November 16, 2017March 21, 2019Posted in hiking, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travelTagged Andrews Bald, Clingmans Dome, Great Smoky Mountains, Observation Tower, sundogs12 Comments

A side trip to Great Smoky Mountains National Park from Asheville takes only an hour, but the payoff is timeless. Admission is free, but the views are priceless.

The National Park straddles North Carolina and Tennessee, with Clingmans Dome, the highest peak in Tennessee, and a natural boundary between both states. The park is situated within a day’s drive for 60% of the nation’s population, making it the most popular of all National Parks, with over 9 million visitors per year.

The park can be accessed through a dozen different gateways, with Sugarlands Visitors Center being the prevailing entry point from the north side through Gatlinburg, TN. But Leah and I approached the Great Smokys from the south, and entered via Oconaluftee Visitors Center, the heart of Cherokee Nation.

Once there, we took our time strolling through the Mountain Farm Museum on the banks of the Oconaluftee River…

…before driving north on Newfound Gap Road–stopping frequently at the many overlooks–to gaze across Carolina’s side of the Blue Ridge Mountains,

and preview our next destination, Clingmans Dome, at 6,643 feet elevation.

A dogleg turn onto Clingmans Mountain Road took us through short winding turns as we climbed the Appalachian Trail ridgeline, eventually leveling off at an over-sized parking area with trails radiating from the top of the bald, and views extending a hundred miles.

Thinking that views might be even better at the very top–allowing us to see over Mount LeConte–we trekked half a mile up a very steep asphalt path to Clingmans Observation Tower, albeit knowing it was closed for repair until next year.

To our surprise, families were scaling the spiraling ramp to the tower.

Looking around, there were no views to be had at the base. We were surrounded by a dense growth of evergreens without breaks. Sacks of concrete were stacked under the column with flimsy, yellow, KEEP OUT tape tied across the tower entrance.

Scores of visitors-turned-violators stood around the column base, determining their next move. Should they make the ascent or not? Yes, the tower was officially closed to the public while undergoing repair. But was it too risky to breach the ribbon barricade? There weren’t any park rangers present, but maybe there were cameras? What a moral dilemma!

“I’m not going up there,” exclaimed Leah. “There’s a reason that tower is closed.”

“But look around us! Where are the views?! We hiked up here expecting to see something, yet there’s nothing to look at, unless you want a closer look at this fir stump,” I argued. “And what about everyone already up there? If they really wanted to keep us out, then why didn’t they secure the entrance better? Why didn’t they use fencing instead of tape?”

Leah was adamant. “I’m still not going up there, and I don’t care about everybody else! It’s not the right thing to do.”

I offered Leah my Roy Moore rationale: “But it ain’t illegal if ya don’t get caught!”

I deliberated carefully…

…and ducked under the tape. I couldn’t help myself. I wouldn’t deny myself the views I had come all this way to capture.

The 45-foot tower was completed in 1959 to give unobstructed 360° views of the surrounding mountains and valleys, and it was showing its age. The concrete pathway was separating from the wall in places, and patches of rebar were visible along the way. But did it warrant closing while in the midst of being repaired?

Probably, but not until I had the chance to document the landscape. I scurried up the ramp with the intention of quickly getting my shots, and hurrying back down, just in case I should be noticed.

On our way back down the trail, several families on their way up the trail, paused to catch their breath and ask, “Is it worth it? Is there anything to see up there?”

“It all depends on how good you are at following orders,” I’d answer cryptically.

But our day wasn’t done yet. It was only three o’clock, and we hadn’t hiked more than an easy mile. We’d been told by a park volunteer at the Visitor Center that the two-mile trail to Andrews Bald–which intersects with the Appalachian Trail–was a worthwhile hike with amazing views at the end.

So, we took her advice, and set out down a narrow, terraced ridge capped by embedded logs as steps–to keep the erosion to a minimum–until it turned to saw-toothed rocks and twisted roots, and occasional mud in low lying places.

“You realize that it’s now getting dark around five, so we’re not gonna have much time before we have to turn around,” Leah warned. “And climbing back up this hill is gonna be a bear!”

“Sunset’s at 5:30, but as long as we’re out by five, we should be fine,” I replied. “Besides, there’s no way I’m gonna miss the sun going down from up top!”

We made excellent time down the mountainside, and crossed onto Andrew Bald, a grassy clearing with breathtaking views. While Leah was making new friends, and photobombing their picture,

I was focused on the sky, and that’s when I realized that the sun had created something remarkable.

That slivered arch of a rainbow crisscrossed by contrails was an elusive sundog, a small portion of an optical phenomenon caused by sunlight refracting off tiny ice crystals in the atmosphere, and creating a larger halo around the sun.

The excitement of capturing this meteorological moment was enough to propel me up the mountain and back to the parking lot with plenty of time to prepare for sunset. But the look on Leah’s face after emerging from the hike told a different story; her feet were achy and her knee was throbbing.

While she retired to the truck to relax and seek shelter from the bite of cold air moving across Clingmans Dome, I stood steadfast on the edge of the mountain, camera in hand, taking a front row seat to nature’s second act.

Going…

going…

gone.

Almost immediately, all the visitors who stood shoulder to shoulder, drifted back to their cars and trucks to wind their way down to the bottom of the mountain road in the faint tinted light of dusk.

If only they had stuck around long enough for nature’s curtain call…

A VanderBiltmore Christmas

November 13, 2017November 13, 2017Posted in History, landscape, money, Photography, travelTagged Asheville NC, Biltmore2 Comments

Completed in 1895 as a collaboration between owner George Vanderbilt, architect Richard Morris Hunt, and landscape architect Frederic Law Olmsted, the Biltmore House opened on Christmas Eve after six years of intensive construction,

and remains the largest private residence in America, with 250 rooms covering 175,000 square feet.

The fourth and fifth generation of Vanderbilt descendants continue to operate the estate as a tourism mecca, welcoming the general public since the Great Depression, and generating needed income to preserve this Versailles-inspired masterpiece.

A variety of tours around the property are available, including: insight into the design, technology, and construction; biographical nuances about the owners and guests; historical notes on the rare artifacts and art collection; and upstairs-downstairs living comparisons.

We started our day by cycling through miles and miles of groomed gardens and grounds,

to gain a better perspective of the castle on the hill,

while surviving the first wave of Asheville’s brisk winter air.

By late afternoon, we’d had our fill of chill, and eagerly sought the warmth of the Biltmore House. We opted for a self-guided house tour of selected rooms that allowed us to visit at our leisure. The programmed route was matched to an accompanying booklet that provided brief reflections and information highlights that has assisted me in captioning the many photographs taken as we moved from room to room.

Our first impression of the residence upon entering the Entrance Hall was sheer wonder and amazement. Looking skyward through the spiraling staircase, was the perfect foreshadow of the immensity and grandiosity of what was to come.

Just beyond the center hall stands the Winter Garden,

an acoustic marvel for instrument and voice.

We followed signs to the Banquet Hall.

Organ Loft houses a 1916 Skinner pipe organ powered by an electric blower below the floor.

Moving on, we entered the Breakfast Room.

Exiting left, leads into the Salon,

and continues through the Music Room.

On the other side, stands the Loggia,

which is an extension of the adjoining Tapestry Gallery.

A walk down the runner terminates at the Library.

Above the vaulted ceiling is a valued fresco.

library ceiling fresco — *The Chariot of Aurora*, painted in the 1720s by Giovanni Pellegrini, once adorned the Pisani Palace in Venice.

Returning to the Entrance Hall, a climb of the Grand Staircase, reveals the Second Floor Living Hall.

Turning left and down the hall is the approach to George Vanderbilt’s Bedroom.

The neighboring Oak Sitting Room…

…was a buffer between George’s and Edith’s Bedroom.

Edith Vanderbilt's Bedroom — Edith, upon her marriage to George at age 25, retired to this oval room with purple and gold silk fabrics and furnishings in the style of Louis XV.

The stairs to the Third Floor, left of Mrs. Vanderbilt’s Bedroom lead to the Guest Quarters, connected by the Third Floor Living Hall.

However, access to grandest guest rooms are located behind the Vanderbilt’s bedrooms on the Second Floor. A walk down the hallway, and a gaze out the window offers incredible details of the limestone-clad exterior of Biltmore, with its statuary and gargoyles hanging from the decorative edifice.

Spiraling down to the Second Floor via the Grand Staircase…

…is the entrance to the Damask Room,

followed by the Tyrolean Chimney Room,

and the Louis XV Room, where Edith gave birth to Cornelia, and spent several weeks of convalescing, as was the custom of the time.

After taking breakfast in their rooms, guests of the Vanderbilts could enjoy a variety of indoor activities located on the Basement level, accessible by descending the Grand Staircase, and passing through the Stone Hallway, with foundation footings extending 29 feet into hillside.

The hallway passage winds into the Halloween Room,

so-named after friends and family of Cornelia and her newlywed husband, John Cecil spent several weeks painting whimsical wall scenes for a New Year’s Eve party to welcome the year 1926.

A Recreation Lounge along the hallway…

…transitions to the one of the nation’s first bowling alleys built for a private residence.

the hallway continues down a long narrow row separating two sides of dressing rooms–one for men, the other for ladies–where guests could change to use the 70,000 gallon indoor Swimming Pool,

or the fully-equipped Gymnasium, where guests kept fit by rowing, swinging Indian clubs, tossing medicine balls, and practicing on the parallel bars.

Just beyond the Gymnasium is the Servants Wing, containing the servants’ quarters and work stations.

Main Kitchen — This kitchen was used to make elaborate deserts by the pastry chef.

servants' dining room — This dining room could feed up to 30 servants, three meals a day.

laundry — The Main Laundry was as large and well-equipped as any stately hotel of the day.

laundry finishing — Laundry finishing and detail work was completed here.

Servants’ Stairs climbing to the Main Floor of the Bachelors’ Wing…

provided access to the Billiard Room.

This house tour represents one of many we’ve taken since hitting the road. For example, we have walked through plantation houses outside New Orleans, Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage, the Kaufman House at Fallingwater, Elvis Presley’s Graceland, and Hearst’s Castle during another trip.

But nothing, and I mean NOTHING compares in scope or elaborateness, and attention to restorative detail as the Biltmore estate… especially when it’s decorated for Christmas.

A VanderBiltmore Christmas

November 13, 2017November 13, 2017Posted in History, landscape, money, Photography, travelTagged Asheville NC, Biltmore5 Comments

and remains the largest private residence in America, with 250 rooms covering 175,000 square feet.

We started our day by cycling through miles and miles of groomed gardens and grounds,

to gain a better perspective of the castle on the hill,

while surviving the first wave of Asheville’s brisk winter air.

Just beyond the center hall stands the Winter Garden,

an acoustic marvel for instrument and voice.

We followed signs to the Banquet Hall.

Moving on, we entered the Breakfast Room.

Exiting left, leads into the Salon,

and continues through the Music Room.

On the other side, stands the Loggia,

which is an extension of the adjoining Tapestry Gallery.

A walk down the runner terminates at the Library.

Above the vaulted ceiling is a valued fresco.

Returning to the Entrance Hall, a climb of the Grand Staircase, reveals the Second Floor Living Hall.

Turning left and down the hall is the approach to George Vanderbilt’s Bedroom.

The neighboring Oak Sitting Room…

…was a buffer between George’s and Edith’s Bedroom.

The stairs to the Third Floor, left of Mrs. Vanderbilt’s Bedroom lead to the Guest Quarters, connected by the Third Floor Living Hall.

Spiraling down to the Second Floor via the Grand Staircase…

…is the entrance to the Damask Room,

followed by the Tyrolean Chimney Room,

and the Louis XV Room, where Edith gave birth to Cornelia, and spent several weeks of convalescing, as was the custom of the time.

The hallway passage winds into the Halloween Room,

so-named after friends and family of Cornelia and her newlywed husband, John Cecil spent several weeks painting whimsical wall scenes for a New Year’s Eve party to welcome the year 1926.

A Recreation Lounge along the hallway…

…transitions to the one of the nation’s first bowling alleys built for a private residence.

the hallway continues down a long narrow row separating two sides of dressing rooms–one for men, the other for ladies–where guests could change to use the 70,000 gallon indoor Swimming Pool,

or the fully-equipped Gymnasium, where guests kept fit by rowing, swinging Indian clubs, tossing medicine balls, and practicing on the parallel bars.

Just beyond the Gymnasium is the Servants Wing, containing the servants’ quarters and work stations.

Servants’ Stairs climbing to the Main Floor of the Bachelors’ Wing…

provided access to the Billiard Room.

But nothing, and I mean NOTHING compares in scope or elaborateness, and attention to restorative detail as the Biltmore estate… especially when it’s decorated for Christmas.

Tempus Fugit

November 10, 2017November 18, 2017Posted in landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photo Challenge, Photography, travelTagged Balloon Fiesta, Corvallis, Jasper National Park, Lassen Volcanic National Park, Valley of Fire6 Comments

When I reflect over the past eight months on the road, it’s a focused blur. Like the miles that melt behind us as we’re cruising on the Interstates, our side-view mirrors only serve to remind us what we once observed before it’s gone in an instant.

“Did you see that?!” has been a common cue while driving, that could come at any time. It could be a natural phenomena like a double rainbow, or a dramatic change to an underwhelming landscape, or a man with no teeth whose nose touches his chin passing us in his hot-rod Mustang convertible.

Whatever the case may be, we usually have just a moment to react and make a meaningful connection before we’re on to the next moment in time. Our experience may be filed into memory, but memories can be sketchy, ambiguous and subjective.

“What’s your favorite place so far?” is a question that unquestionably comes up when meeting friends or strangers who hear about the progress we’ve made on our year-long odyssey. It’s also the hardest question to answer, considering the nearly 30,000 miles we’ve covered en route to 90 different destinations.

Leah and I often joke and reflect about our day at its conclusion, just to gauge if our recollections match.

“Was it a top 10 day for you today?” I’m likely to ask.

Certainly more than 30 times to date, she’ll respond with, “I don’t know if it was ‘top 10’, but definitely among the top 20.”

Looking back–with help from impressions of places from past posts–I’m now ready to answer the question, and reveal my top five favorites thus far, in chronological order.

1) August 2, 2017: Jasper National Park, Alberta Canada–Athabasca Glacier

Athabasca Glacier currently recedes at 16 ft. per year, and has lost over half its volume over the past 125 years.

2) August 21, 2017: Corvallis, Oregon–Total Solar Eclipse

Totality of the eclipse lasted one minute, 40 seconds.

4) August 29, 2017: Lassen Volcanic National Park, California

The 750 foot ascent up the 35% grade of loose gravel to the rim of the Cinder Cone took 35 minutes.

4) October 4, 2017: Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada

7 minutes lapsed between the sun setting behind the Muddy Mountains to the moon rising over the Valley of Fire.

5) October 14, 2017: Albuquerque, New Mexico–Balloon Fiesta

The hot air balloon was aloft over Albuquerque after 13 minutes of inflation.

Although each adventure is fundamentally different from the others, collectively, they represent before and after transitions.

The ephemeral existence of each event is temporary in its own special way, with its own time-stamp carved in soap. Fortunately, the moment can be captured and preserved in words and pictures, lest there be any doubt that something significant happened in our lifetime.

Arch ‘n Bunker

November 3, 2017November 3, 2017Posted in Architecture, Art, History, landscape, National Parks, Photo Challenge, Photography, travelTagged Gateway Arch, Jefferson National Expansion Memorial, Old Courthouse, peek, St. Loius9 Comments

“Please don’t let it rain,” I beseeched the angry sky.

After savoring four months of dry weather from Oregon to Arkansas, we arrived in St. Louis at the same moment a cold gray funk had arrived for Halloween. Leah and I had put off our visit to the Gateway Arch in our hope that conditions would clear, but our window of opportunity had narrowed with a rainy forecast predicted for the following day. Running out of options, we bit the bullet and pulled the trigger.

Tickets to the monument are available at the Old Courthouse–headquarters for the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial,

and historic location of the landmark Dred Scott trials–where an ordinary man took extraordinary measures to free his family from the indignities of slavery, by bringing suit against the United States of America.

A walk inside reflects two hundred years of history. Directly beneath the dome and the 33-star flag (dating back to July 4, 1859)…

…rests a 3-foot diameter flagstone amid the pavers–the acoustic sweet spot of the courthouse–where orators would stand to speak and be heard from top to bottom,

and throughout the wings.

Stairwells lit by skylight…

carried us to higher floors, providing a peek of the nearby Arch,

and a recreation of the courtroom that memorializes where Louis D. Brandeis was admitted to the Missouri bar on November 21, 1878.

After a brief detour around a barricaded green space currently under construction, we arrived at the south bunker beneath the arch…

that houses walls of exhibits documenting construction from 1963 to 1965,

and more importantly, access to the carriage cars that carry visitors to a viewing gallery 630 feet above the city.

After a four minute ride, we emerged from our pod,

into an enclosed ramp with multiple portholes overlooking east of the Mississippi,

and unobstructed views westward, beyond St. Louis.

As we drove through St. Louis drizzle the following day, we were never far from occasional glimpses of the Arch shrouded in rain clouds.

While I never had a sunny day to capture the full beauty of the simple architecture created by Eero Saarinen, I could still bask in the warm glow of an iconic structure that celebrates the spirit of American exploration.

American Kitsch

October 30, 2017Posted in Architecture, landscape, Photography, travelTagged Branson, Oak Ridge Boys13 Comments

Years ago, Dennis Miller–when he was funny–referred to Branson, Missouri as Las Vegas for people without teeth. Twenty years later, Miller’s revelation still hits the mark, despite the advent of implants and veneers.

While attending a sold-out concert featuring the Oak Ridge Boys at the Mansion Theater,

it was hard not to notice the adoration of a graying audience. Women wearing shades of autumn-colored hair to complement their leopard print outfits seemed to swoon through an earnest and sincere set of gospel-laced ballads and patriotic country-swing tunes, while their stoic significant others, coiffed in their stiff anywhere/anytime cowboy hats, eventually removed them, perhaps taking a cue from William Lee Golden during his performance.

Upon returning to the parking lot after the show, we noticed how haphazardly most vehicles were parked, with little regard for lane assignments. It could have been a freeze frame from a demolition derby. Few could recall where they parked their trucks or SUVs, so collectively pressing the alarm buttons on their keys produced a cacophony of blaring horns and flashing headlights that continued to frustrate a clueless crowd.

Of course, things are no better on the roads. The yellow, blue and red routes always appear to be congested, because drivers can’t get out of their own way, and nobody knows where they’re going. Unfortunately, turn signals are no more than car decoration.

Or maybe the sites on the edge of the road are so compelling that traffic snarls are to be expected.

What follows is a sampling of some of the roadside attractions that caught my attention.

P.S. We found our truck in the Mansion lot, and found our way back to the Airstream, but it took forty minutes to travel four miles.

Eureka!

October 28, 2017November 5, 2017Posted in Airstream, Architecture, Art, History, landscape, Photography, travelTagged Christ of the Ozarks, Eureka Springs, healing waters, religion, St. Elizabeth of Hungary7 Comments

A stopover in Eureka Springs, AR along the way to Branson, MO produced some Eureka! moments and other assorted revelations.

For one, there are seventeen registered churches in Eureka Springs, ministering to two thousand healing hearts and souls around town, plus a Tibetan Buddhist temple and an integrated monastery of celibate brothers and sisters.

Religious overtones are also pervasive throughout town. Our Airstream was parked along Passion Play Rd., above the hallowed hollow where The Great Passion Play’s dramatic reenactment of the last week of Jesus Christ is the #1 tourist attraction in the area, and The Christ of the Ozarks rises nearby, hovering above the dense woods of Magnetic Mountain.

Also looking down from town, the Crescent Hotel–recently added to the National Register of Historic Places–delivers luxurious living and salon services, in what’s billed as America’s Most Haunted Hotel.

A fourth-floor lookout…

provides familiar views in the distance,

and an overlook of St. Elizabeth Catholic Church of Hungary–listed in Ripley’s Believe It or Not as the only church in America with entry through the bell tower.

Stunning religious “art-chitecture” can also be found at the Thorncrown Chapel, a jewel of glass and wood tucked into the hillside atop a ledge of flagstone.

Inside Eureka Springs’ Victorian historical district, the Byzantine-styled First Baptist Church stands at the corner of three intersecting streets with entrances at each of its four levels, giving it four distinct addresses and cause for another Ripley’s entry.

The charm of downtown carries through its narrow winding streets, acute corners, and graded roads of 30% or greater, routinely decorated with accents of fine art…

…and frivolity.

Eureka Springs came by its name naturally, manifesting no less than sixty-two springs that gushed from the mountainside with so-called healing properties. Its establishment as a resort community during the 1870’s prompted visitors from near and far to “take the waters” by drinking up and soaking in its therapeutic juices.

Today, over a dozen springs have been restored to former glory.

And while the water is no longer potable, the park habitats have given the springs a new lease on life,

and have renewed the town’s reputation as a popular healing destination,

with an emphasis on preserved charm.

Perhaps the biggest paradox of Eureka Springs would have to be the town’s united commitment to all things ghosts and Halloween, given its adherence and roots in Christiandom, while billing itself as “the place” for the best Halloween party in America…

…breathing spiritual relevance into Euripides’ quote: Money is the wise man’s religion.

Sanctuary

October 25, 2017November 5, 2017Posted in Architecture, History, landscape, Nature, Photography, travelTagged Eureka Springs, Oral Roberts University, Thorncrown Chapel, Tulsa OK, Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge1 Comment

Sanctuary comes in many different forms: as a retreat–a place one goes for guidance and inspiration; as a house of worship–a place to seek spiritual healing and nourishment; and as a refuge–a place to escape misuse or abuse. Within 24 hours, Leah and I managed to come across all three in a small corner of mid-western America.

For those searching for faith-based education, Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, OK has a campus fingerprint: Make No Little Plans Here

The university’s holistic approach feeds the spirit, mind, and body.

The university’s futuristic and mid-century modern architecture attributed to Frank Wallace is best appreciated from the flying saucer,

that also passes for an observation deck,

and reflection gallery.

It’s gold-tinted, anti-glare windows colorize the outward views in a peculiar warm bath of Genesis green.

And while folded hands may symbolize a deep connection between God and Christianity,

…any university coed would easily characterize the statue as a student praying to pass.

Architecture on a higher plane/plain can be found nearby, in the hills of the Ozarks. While no less spiritual in nature, the Thorncrown Chapel is rooted in nature.

An elaborate composition of wooden trusses embracing 425 windows gives an ethereal nod to a scripture and proverb mash-up of not casting the first stone in glass houses.

From the hillside, the chapel seemingly disappears among the flora,

and when juxtaposed to the outdoors, the chapel’s transparency is flaunted by its six thousand square feet of glass.

However, the chapel’s connection to nature shines brighter from within the polished maplewood doors,

where an arboretum of beams reaching forty-eight feet to the clouds…

can be contemplated and photographed from a distant pew. (Photography is allowed, but only from a sitting position.)

But Thorncrown Chapel is more than a beautiful building. It’s a celebration of Jim Reed’s spirit and vision, and a noble tribute to the glory of his resignation to a higher power.

Lastly, eleven miles south, on the edge of Eureka Springs, AK, Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge provides shelter and care to abandoned, abused, and neglected wildcats, whose owners have miscalculated the cost and trouble of raising and breeding them in captivity.

Currently, Turpentine Creek has become a haven to 100 lions, tigers, ligers, and cougars like Nala and Brody.

Natural habitats built with benefactor dollars provide asylum to big cats,

who are now free to live out their lives in a protected environment,

while being offered preventative and emergency medical treatment.

These cats cannot be released into the wild,

as they’ve lost their ability to fend and defend after being declawed by their owners,

who in their ignorance and arrogance wished to make them less dangerous to handle as one-time pets.

Nevertheless, a cadre of volunteers assists a small staff in feeding, cleaning, examining, and behavior-modifying these beasts. Thus, providing each big cat with a humane existence.

Day-to-day operations are assisted through visitor admissions, gift shop sales, and donations by large corporations like Tyson, who feeds the herd 300,000 lbs. of chicken every year.

Sanctuaries of thought, redemption, and protection offer safe places to learn, to reflect, and retire to. Remove anyone of them, and society faces a danger of turning in on itself, further sewing the sleeves of divisiveness.

Better still, offering asylum to the millions of struggling homeless across the country, and persecuted refugees around the world would improve their safety and dignity, and allow more of humanity to participate in their own recovery.

Palo Duro Canyon Tailwinds

October 22, 2017October 22, 2017Posted in Airstream, landscape, Nature, Photography, travelTagged Amarillo, Big Cave, Old West Stables, Palo Duro Canyon, Texas8 Comments

Wouldn’t you know it?! Texas has a Grand Canyon of its own in the middle of its panhandle called Palo Duro. And the best way to see it is from the saddle of a horse while riding at the bottom of the canyon floor.

We’d been wanting to go horseback riding for the past few months, but something always interfered with our plans, or time wouldn’t allow. But Leah was determined.

“If you can ride in a balloon, then I get to ride a horse,” she declared.

And true to her word, reservations made on Thursday got us an early ride time with Jennifer at Old West Stables inside the state park.

We mounted Buster and Lloyd,

and rode along an unmapped equestrian trail that took us along the foothills of the canyon walls…

and through the hills and ravines of a basin carved by the Prairie Dog Town Fork of the Red River over one million years ago.

We passed colorful rock formations resulting from a geologic compression of four distinct periods layered over the course of 250 million years.

While I enjoyed the scenery, and the quiet of the canyon,

I had the disadvantage of riding behind Leah’s horse, Lloyd.

Lloyd was a farter who always positioned himself behind the lead horse.

And no matter how many times I tried to hold Buster back…

…we would always find our way back behind Lloyd’s swishing tail,

where Buster was always greeted with a slow and steady current of foul wind, followed by an evacuation.

The hour passed as easily as Lloyd’s breakfast, and we found ourselves back at the stable, in time for Lloyd’s lunch.

Once finished, we took a ride back to the lodge at the top of the canyon for a better perspective of the second largest canyon system in America,

before returning to the basin’s scenic road to explore the Big Cave,

an opening in the red rock that’s not as big as it’s unusual.

The Texas panhandle is as flat as a cowpie, and wide as the open sky.

Thankfully, Palo Duro Canyon provides some variety to a linear landscape, and adds some color to a pale prairie palette.

Balloonatic

October 20, 2017October 17, 2019Posted in landscape, money, Nature, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged Albuquerque, Balloon Fiesta, New Mexico, Release9 Comments

“$450 for a balloon ride?! You’ve got to be kidding” I exclaimed to the Rainbow Ryder rep on the phone.

“That’s the price, sir. We are the exclusive balloon ride provider for Balloon Fiesta, unless you’re willing to fly outside the ‘Albuquerque Box’,” she managed.

“What’s the ‘Albuquerque Box’?“ I inquired.

“It’s a weather phenomenon peculiar to Albuquerque,” she pointed out, “where the lowest winds move in one direction, while the higher winds are moving in the opposite direction. That way, our pilots can take advantage of the different air currents, by floating higher or lower, and return you close to your original launch point.

“Uh, Ohh-kay,” I shrugged, “and that’s worth $450?”

“That’s the rate for a balloon ride during Balloon Fiesta, sir. And I only have a few openings left for Saturday and Sunday,” she pitched.

“Your price is sky high,” I offered, “so I’m gonna have to think about it.” And this call was over.

I turned to Leah. “Looks like my balloon ride went from bucket list to “fuck-it” list.”

And that was a drag, since Balloon Fiesta is the largest gathering of hot-air balloons in the world, with more balloons lifting off together (mass ascension) than anywhere else.

Leah sensed my disappointment. “Maybe it’s cheaper if you found an outfitter outside the box. Would you still be interested?

“I think I could manage to get excited,” I lamented.

After a flurry of phoning and pricing, I secured a dawn launch on Saturday for $250 with World Balloon, albeit on the northwest side of town, miles away from the Fiesta.

Launch day bears all the markings for a picture-perfect take-off: early air temperature hovers in the mid-40’s; the wind is streaming from the north at 8 mph; and the sky is clear as shimmering water.

A group of fifty men, women, and children are sub-divided into five, and assigned to a pilot and his balloon crew. Each chase van carries two wranglers, ten passengers, and a trailer packed with gear. We congregate at a barren football-sized lot, and watch as five balloons are prepared for flight.

Baskets are unloaded,

and assembled.

The burners are tested.

With dawn breaking over the horizon, the balloon is unfurled, and rigged to the basket.

An industrial fan blows cold air into the mouth of limp polyester, and behold, the balloon takes shape.

Roy aims the burner flame into the mouth to heat the air,

and eventually expands the envelope to fullness.

The buoyant balloon rights itself,

and the six of us scramble inside to bid adieu to terra firma, and gently float away…

…one step ahead of a second balloon.

All the while, balloons below…

…are preparing to follow our Airstream (wink wink, nod nod).

Our pilot, Roy pulls on the burners,

carrying us to 5000 ft. above the treetops,

where a birds-eye view of the valley below,

reveals a cityscape punctuated by fantastic dots of floating colors.

Yet closer inspection reveals the full dimension of a multi-colored mushroom gliding through an azure sky.

After forty-five minutes of soaring and dipping through neighborhoods–arousing excitable dogs,

and adoring children–

Roy is tasked with finding a landing site along our flight path–wide open and away from wires–and accessible to the chase team who’s been following us since our launch. After a few false starts, we locate a large house devoid of landscaping, and gently settle back to earth.

However, a chain-link fence lines the perimeter, and a locked gate gives us no way out. A woman from Birmingham, AL vaults over the side of the basket and runs to the front door to alert the owners to unlock the gate, but nobody’s home.

So it’s back in the air, with the van in pursuit, until we mobilize at a strip mall.

After a quick exchange of passengers (six out and four in), our balloon is re-released with its second set of aeronauts,

drifting higher into the blue yonder.

Fifty minutes later, the vacant parking lot beside the church provides the perfect setting for a second re-entry.

Whereupon, the balloon is quickly collapsed,

and folded,

and packed away, until next time.

Back at base camp, it was time for a champagne toast, and a recitation of the balloonist’s prayer:

The winds…

I loved it, and I’d do it again. I guess that makes me a balloonatic.

Cadillac Ranch

October 19, 2017January 15, 2018Posted in Art, landscape, Photo Challenge, travelTagged Amarillo, Cadillac Ranch, glow10 Comments

A handful of cars and trucks were pulled onto the shoulder of a road beside a cow pasture along Interstate 40 in Amarillo, TX. A barbed wire perimeter protected entry to the field, but a rainbow-colored cattle gate provided access to an infinite vista of grassland and graffitied hay rolls.

Although road signage made it very clear that all graffiti stay on the other side of the road,

anything on Stanley Marsh’s property was fair game for tagging and tacitly encouraged.

The sun was setting,

and the mosquito swarm was brutal, as if they saw it as their obligation to annoy anyone curious to walk through a field where ten Cadillacs were partly buried in the ground.

Additionally, with golden hour light fading quickly, I felt my glow time was severely limited.

Nevertheless, working around the tall shadows cast by a low-hanging sun, I managed to capture a spectrum of random and radiant colors that seemingly changes by the hour, courtesy of spray-painters who choose to be anything but anonymous.

Western Decivilization

October 18, 2017January 15, 2018Posted in History, landscape, Photo Challenge, Photography, travelTagged Bird Cage Theatre, Cochise County Courthouse, glow, O.K. Corral gunfight, Tombstone, Truth or Consequences16 Comments

It was late afternoon, golden hour, and the town was aglow. We rolled into Tombstone, AZ with the tumbleweeds, and got out of town by morning, but not before taking a sun-soaked stroll down Allen Street past the O.K. Corral, tracing the footsteps of a by-gone time.

The Old West town was unusually quiet this day,

as if its residents were hiding out, bracing for yet another round of random violence, when claim jumpers, cattle rustlers, horse thieves, prostitutes, and gamblers challenged the moral fiber of a nascent society teetering between greatness and greed.

Despite the fear, there were some who dared to venture out…

and walk the dusty planks of a fragile peace, with their trusty sidearms at the ready.

Yet it was business as usual at the Bird Cage Theatre,

where wanton women plied their trade at twenty-three bucks a pop,

in their boudoir quarters…

…beyond the catwalk over the saloon,

while high-stakes poker flourished under the stage,

with a $1000 minimum buy-in.

But outside on the street, trouble was brewing.

: The Earps had heard that “The Cowboys” were gathering at the O.K. Corral making threats and spoiling for a fight.

: Rounding the corner of 4th and Freemont, the Earps headed west to the rear entrance of the O.K. Corral for a date with destiny.

: When the fight begins, Town Marshal Virgil Earp (with cane) says “Hold on, we don’t want that,” as Frank McLowery and Billy Clanton take the first bullets from Doc and Morgan.

: Billy Clanton (2nd from right) draws his gun and begins to fire back as his brother Ike begs Wyatt Earp not to shoot him. Morgan and Doc are concentrating on Frank McLowery and the game Billy Clanton who, though mortally wounded, continues to shoot. Frank and Tom maneuver their horses as shields.

: As Ike Clanton flees, Virgil Earp and Tom McLowery bring their guns into action. Doc Holiday turns to fire at the fleeing Ike, while Morgan continues to fire at the wounded Frank McLowery.

: Frank McLowery maneuvers his horse into the street and fires back under the horse’s neck as Holliday pulls a sawed-off shotgun from under his coat. An anonymous shot, possibly from Billy Claiborne is fired from within the O.K. Corral, diverting the Earps’ attention.

: Frank McLowery still manages to hang onto his horse for cover as his brother Tom, shooting over his saddle, hits Morgan Earp. Billy Clayton (nearing death) returns fire at Virgil and Wyatt. A shot from Frank hits Marshal Virgil Earp in the right leg.

: Thirty bullets are fired in a thirty second outburst. When the smoke clears, Billy Clanton and both McLaury brothers lay dead in the street. Ike Clanton, claiming that he was unarmed has run from the fight, along with Billy Claiborne. Virgil, Morgan, and Doc Holliday are wounded, but Wyatt Earp is unharmed.

Certainly, death was big business for the Tombstone Undertakers.

And on occasion, death was high entertainment for the townsfolk.

And as the sun sets on Tombstone…

we remember the lawlessness of the Wild, Wild West,

but we celebrate the triumph of a Town Too Tough to Die…

…a worthy consideration while we soaked away the stress in a hot spring along the Rio Grande the following day in Truth or Consequences, NM.

Nature Under Glass

October 16, 2017April 11, 2018Posted in Architecture, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travelTagged Arizona, Biosphere2, Saguaro National Park13 Comments

Exploring Tucson, AZ provided two very different opportunities to experience nature–Saguaro National Park and Biosphere 2–with one generating more interest than the other.

We reserved a site at Catalina State Park’s campground…

to be equidistant between the two National Park districts: Rincon Mountain (RMD-east) and Tucson Mountain (TMD-west). Why two districts? In the 1960’s, concern over RMD’s cactus forest showing a decline in new growth, prompted conservationists to acquire a stand of ancient saguaros to the west of Tucson, separating the two districts by an hour’s drive.

Leah and I began our journey at TMD, at first, through a meandering exurban road that eventually led to an unpaved, rutted, and narrow scenic Bajada loop drive covering five miles of Tuscon Mountain foothills. A stop at the Desert Discovery Trail brought us within no touching distance of magnificent saguaro cacti measuring over thirty feet tall.

Each specimen appears unique, sprouting limbs in different places, and contorting in all directions,

giving relevance to Native American claims that these are people standing among the sand and rocks.

Their petroglyphs across Signal Hill are a testament to their long-standing occupation of the territory more than one thousand years ago.

A memorable hike along the Valley View Trail slowly ascends a ridge, offering dramatic views of Avra Valley’s saguaro-sprawl, with Picachu Peak in the distance.

With temperatures reaching into the high 90’s, we avoided all other trails–requiring a minimum of three to four hours of dedicated strain–in favor of cross-town traffic delays that minimized our allotted time to visit RMD.

Once at the eastern park gate, we roamed the paved eight-mile Cactus Forest Drive, switch-backing into higher elevations, with warm western sun casting a golden hue across the desert, turning a forbidding vista…

into an inviting playground,

protected by a standing legion of cactus totems.

The following day, we turned our attention to an experiment in the remote reaches of the Sonoran Desert,

originally conceived in 1984 to “research and develop self-sustaining space-colonization technology,” and leading to two highly publicized missions between 1991 and 1994–where teams of eight were sealed into a self-sustaining environment for two-year terms and monitored for their “survivability”. Scientists named it Biosphere 2.

Presently, the University of Arizona has assumed stewardship of the facility, turning its focus toward research on climate change–mimicking diverse ecosystems, such as the ocean,

the rainforest,

and coastal fog desert,

all managed under controlled conditions.

Beneath nature’s museum lies the technosphere, a myriad of pipes and wiring,

channels and ducts, tubes and cables, and other facilities necessary for vital operation.

An ingenious dome-shaped lung…

connected to the glass enclosure by tunnels…

allows for air expansion caused by ever-changing pressures within the sealed structure.

The scope of the facility is a marvel, boasting double redundancy for all power and life support systems.

A common question on the tour, “Why is it called Biosphere 2? Was there another Biosphere before this one?”

The docent is keen to respond, “Yes. Another Biosphere exists, where random, haphazard and uncontrolled experiments called living are carried out on a daily basis, but we commonly refer to it as Earth.”

Putting Leah in Perspective

October 12, 2017January 15, 2018Posted in daily prompt, landscape, Nature, Photo Challenge, Photography, travelTagged Leah, perspective, Scale13 Comments

Picasso painted Marie-Thérèse Walter and Dora Maar among others; Dali’s choice was Gala; and Stieglitz extensively photographed Georgia O’Keeffe. The results of these collaborations are legendary. Artists have always depended on models…for inspiration, as subjects, as lovers.

And while I eschew classifying myself as an artist, my reliance on Leah in my landscape photographs is no different than the aforementioned masters…with one exception: scale!

Often times during picture editing, she will lament, “Why am I so small? You can hardly see me!”

But being able to insert Leah into a panoramic scene or long shot helps me establish dimension and grandiosity.

And while there are times when I seemingly wait forever for someone to step outside the frame of my shot before pressing the shutter, there are also times when it becomes vital to locate Leah in my scene to anchor its meaningfulness, and increase its effectiveness.

Sometimes Leah can be an unwilling participant. She may object if she feels she’s not looking her best, or perhaps she becomes annoyed if she’s not the central focus of my photograph when she feels like posing.

But either way, she has always been a good sport, and is usually compliant when taking my directions.

But regardless of how many rocks she leans against per my request, it’s evident to me, photography aside, how much I lean on her.

She is my personal rock, who helps me put things in perspective.

via Photo Challenge: Scale

Sleepless in Las Vegas

October 10, 2017January 15, 2018Posted in Airstream, daily prompt, hiking, landscape, Nature, Photography, travelTagged Arch Rock, Beehives, believe, Elephant Rock, Mouse's Tank, Rainbow Vista, Silica Dome, Valley of Fire, White Domes23 Comments

Seldom am I so amazed that I am speechless or at a loss for words…

After visiting twenty-nine U.S. National Parks, four Canadian National Parks, a dozen National Monuments, numerous State and Provincial Parks, and driving thousands of miles of scenic byways over the past twenty-nine weeks,

captured on:

Leah and I have yet to discover a place that is so captivating that we didn’t want to leave…until now.

Rainbow Trail panorama (2) — Leah and me

Valley of Fire State Park allowed us the chance to finally exhale, after America held its collective breath trying to make sense of yet another senseless killing spree, when a maniacal sniper opened fire on a crowd of 20,000 innocents a ¼-mile away.

We were 4½ miles out of harm’s way, staying at an RV resort off I-15 at the time, and wondered about the incessant sirens screaming past our open windows after 10 pm that fateful evening..

“I can’t believe how much crime they have here,” Leah exclaimed.

“Wouldn’t want to live here,” I offered.

Switching on the TV, all stations were locked on breaking news of an active shooter at the strip, but details were sketchy with the story developing by the minute. We quickly realized that we were listening to the soundtrack of a massacre: SWAT teams, police, EMT, and ambulances were sprinting past our Airstream–in and out of the danger zone.

Originally, we booked a couple of days in Vegas to decompress, and intended on exploring the strip in search of available show tickets once the Airstream was unhitched. But the prospects of casino crawling quickly faded after an afternoon of relaxation by the pool. Then again, we figured there would always be tomorrow.

Yet by morning, as the tragedy at Mandalay Bay unfolded, the thought of unthinkable loss left us gasping for air.

Leah summed it up: “It doesn’t feel right having fun when we’re surrounded by so much pain and suffering.”

We needed a getaway. We took off for Red Rock Canyon to escape the inhumanity, and clear our heads.

It was a small dose of nature for the day, and helped to heal our heavy hearts.

The following day, we moved our Airstream fifty miles east, to the Valley of Fire, where we found the perfect antidote to murder and madness. We found a place where we could breathe,

and the only sound at night was silence.

The park has an abundance of features and formations.

But the hiking trails off White Domes Road offer the biggest reward.

Rainbow Vista gave us an opportunity to scramble over rocks with more colors than a box of Crayolas.

A loop through the deep red sands of White Domes transported us to the 23rd century set of Star Trek: Generations.

A stroll through Fire Canyon during late afternoon gave us the impression that each rock radiated from within.

But I was unprepared for the exhilaration I felt after reaching the Fire Wave.

I’ve adopted Valley of Fire as my Muse. Even now, when I close my eyes, I believe I’m living in Candyland–a magical world where the cliffs look like candy, and all the residents of the world are tolerant of each other.

This post represents a milestone of sorts, as its #100 in my series of posts for Streaming Thru America–a blog intended to showcase and celebrate the diversity of beauty throughout the country. I dedicate #100 to all the victims, and their families, and I salute the first responders, the good Samaritans, and the medical personnel, who continue to fight for the living.

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