Ann-alog, a Pixel Remix, where Ann Torrence blogs about photographing for a book on U.S. Highway 89, the greatest road trip route in America. Photography tips, locations, trip reports, and real life.

Mule-power

From a recent trip to Sanpete County, driver at the helm of a mule-drawn wagon. Notice the escapee at the end of the dirt road? We didn't catch him.

Hide Racing, Riverton, Utah rodeo

I've seen hide racing before, but I still have no explanation for it. It seems to be best when your little brother is the one being towed. The crowd loves it.

D700, ISO 3200, f 3.2, 1/100th of a second. I am still exploring the low-light limits of this machine--fabulous!

End of a short ride at Morgala Days rodeo, Morgan, Utah

Sometimes the bull wins.

Morgala Days, Morgan, UtahRide on, cowboy.

Grand Canyon Voyage, Day 9

About one hour after sunset on the 9th day, I started yet another star trail. I had never done night sky photography before this trip--wasn't really interested when I shot film and the older generation digital cameras weren't going to give the results I wanted. So the dark skies of the Grand Canyon gave me a great, sleeping bag accessible venue to practice.

And practice I did. Not until the third or fourth try did I make anything that pleased me. Not because of the Nikon D700, simply operator error. I worked out a procedure that gave me this result, and it's what I'll start with on Saturday, at our next Photowalk.

• Fresh batteries
• Turn off noise reduction (NR uses as much battery as your shot, and if you run out of power in mid-shot processing, the D700 and probably every other digital camera out there, records nothing.
• ISO Low 1 on the D700, which is equivalent to 100. I used that because ISO 200 collected too much background brightness. Sensitivity on individual cameras varies enough that it needs testing, but high ISOs aren't the place to start.
• f4 aperture. Aperture is the real control in this kind of photography, and 1 stop off widest aperture is generally a very sharp choice.
• compose. I wanted to include something of the rim in my shot. This is at 28mm on a full frame sensor. I wished I had an even wider lens.
• shoot RAW
• use a manual camera release, with a locking mechanism to hold it open.
• wait. I can count on at least 45 minutes on a fresh set of 8 AA batteries at 70 degrees in the D700 battery pack. Maybe longer, but by the time I had this shot, the sliver moon lighting the canyon wall had set and I was almost out of AAs. I'll try a longer exposure on Saturday.

100% pixel crop

The details captured by the D700 is unbelievable.

For RAW processing, I used a temperature of 3400K, tint of -3, exposure +.60 (suggests using a slightly higher ISO, like Low -.7), brightness -20 (to kill background and separate the stars). For a first success, I'm quite happy, and looking forward to Saturday:

PhotowalkingUtah on Saturday, if this infernal rain stops: Stansbury Park Observatory (Not the Island)
June 13th, 2009 (Saturday)
* Starting Time: 9:00pm
* Ending Time: 11:00pm (you can stay later if desired)
All the details

Camp 5

Still in the Inner Gorge, we made camp early enough that I could get out all of my gear: D700 for most everything, D2X as a back-up and for wide angles (I don't have a full-frame wide angle yet), D70 for remixed IR stuff, and a review model of a Canon D10.

Not much happened with the light, win some, lose some. It was a great evening even so. I used everything in the bag, just to say I had. Actually, there was more than a bag, and despite the complexities, carrying it around was a managable bother.

Securing gear on a Colorado River trip involves as much protection from impact as from water. Those rapids toss stuff around, even if well-secured, and there's always a chance that a shipmate is going to take a tumble right onto your pack. My lo-fi strategy I used in 2006 on the Nahanni River trip wasn't going to be suitable. I debated and optimized, and ended up with a hybrid system that worked for 3 DSLR bodies and about 5 lenses (biggest was my 70-200VR).

The D700 went into a Pelican box, along with its battery grip and a flash. Later on the trip, I reverted to my standard 5 liter drybag for the D700 (without grip). From years of practice in my kayak, I can stuff a camera into a drybag really fast. (Make sure your drybag has a hard loop for a carabiner, and use this method at your own risk.)

The D2X, D70, a back-up flash, Pocket Wizards, 12-24 DX lens, 50 mm lens, Lensbaby Composer and miscellaneous junk went into the bottom of a borrowed Lowepro DryZone Rover. This bag seals with zippers like those found on drysuits, and I read about issues with the zippers not closing properly in the field, so I double bagged everything in ziplocks. This bag is not the kind you open and shut thirty times a day. The zipper worked properly or speedily, but not both at once. So the lower compartment stayed shut on the river. But it did not fail once I got it sealed correctly.

To carry the rest of my stuff, I redeployed the the DryZone's non-waterproof upper section. Intended for hiker comforts (snack, hydration, clothes), the bag's top half seals like a regular pack. I packed my 70-200 in its soft case, then stuffed that into a 5 liter drybag. Another small drybag held batteries, CF cards, and other necessaries for shots during the day. It all got through 11 days of sand, rapids, water and elements just fine.

I resisted buying a specialty pack for this trip, but liked the DryZone Rover well enough that I am replacing it for the person I borrowed it from. The dual sections made it work for me. Either of LowePro's other waterproof bags would have been too cumbersome for my shooting style, but I intend on using this bag often on more placid adventures as well as future whitewater trips.

Granite Rapid near mile 93, Grand Canyon National Park

The Inner Gorge of the Grand Canyon draws the walls closer together speeding up the current the Colorado River and making its rapids much more dangerous. John Wesley Powell's men dreaded the schist and granite rocks, their practical geology lessons burnt into them: the Inner Gorge rapids were most dangerous of all.

We, in our mighty rubber rafts, had much more leisure to entertain ourselves than Powell's crew. We also had spectacular weather, blue skies day after day. Naturally, I could have done with a little color in the skies, but I wasn't dealing the meterological cards. I show this picture not as a fantastic example of my photography, but to set the scene for our evening entertainment at Camp 4: eco-graffiti.

Eco-graffiti with a laser pointer on the Inner Gorge, no rocks were harmed for this art project.

It's still not clear why my dear husband R brought his green laser pointer in his gear, but it shot all the way across the river from camp. We selected a smooth wall for our graffiti and played away until true dark. This was the first time I really pushed the low light capabilities of the D700, and I am impressed. This is a 34 second exposure (if the metadata can be trusted; I was using a cable release) at 800 ISO, not quite dark. Our friend Scott worked the laser for this one. He planned it all through dinner. Yep, a lot of time on our hands. And a good practice session for the days (and nights) ahead.

ATV tracks on lava sands near, but outside, the boundary of Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument

I'm taking today off. In the five days since I left SLC, I drove 1,600 miles, including three trips from Phoenix to Tucson (one of them all the way to Nogales) and made the essential pictures I had targeted for the U.S. Hwy 89 project. There's still more I want to do now that I'm here, including some urban skyline stuff in Phoenix, after I restock the well. In the Artist Way, Julia Cameron prescribes the Artist Date (a weekly excursion to do something completely non-productive and fun) as a way to sustain creative energy. The concept works for me when I allow it. So today, Mom and I ate breakfast out, went to a great used bookstore, and saw a 3D IMAX film about whales and dolphins. I am teaching her dog to roll over. I'll be back at the task tomorrow, with refreshed vision and more gas in the tank.

Today I offer a photo from my last trip to Arizona, when I came to make photos of Sunset Crater itself. We flew south from the monument, where we found an area devoted to ATV trails; even at sunrise, the riders were burning $4 per gallon gasoline. I find the patterns of the tracks attractive, even beautiful, in their own way, even if little else of the sport appeals to me. Think about the word recreation: to re-create oneself. How people go about restoring and reinventing themselves fascinates me, especially when it involves noise and destruction. I hope those riders found what they were looking for in their ATV dust. I'll look for mine elsewhere.

Thank God men cannot fly, and lay waste the sky as well as the earth.

- Henry David Thoreau

Balanced Rock sunset

The real problem with the Moab Photo Symposium was that there simply was not enough time to do everything. I told the organizer, Bruce Hucko, that I wanted an "E" ticket to the party since I'd not been before, and even then, I missed out on way too much. I could have happily gone to every workshop, photographed at every sunrise and sunset.

The theme was "Bodies of Work, Bodies at Work" and we saw some fascinating projects- I especially enjoyed learning about Chris Conrad's night photography and ViviAnn Rose's hand-colored nudes. David Hiser, Jeff Foott and Tom Till gave three very different presentations on the life of a world-traveling photographer; Foott's talk illustrated the kinds of photos needed to illustrate an editorial piece, which was deeply interesting as I envision telling the Highway 89 story. It was interesting to hear three old-school film guys talk about their digital experiences, especially Till, who has been enjoying shooting with a DSLR after years of lugging around a 4x5 camera. Rory Tyler showed us petroglyphs he discovered-rarely do I meet someone with such a depth of passion for any topic as Rory has for rock art, not just of the southwest, but world-wide. Steve Traut made us all laugh, and I hope to see his work in Grand Junction sometime. I missed out on Vic Beer's HDR workshop, and I didn't get a chance to talk to Adriel Heisey until Sunday, which was a mistake because we have a lot of territory to discuss. His aerial work is tops. And I'm still pondering Brian Parkin's thoughts on working with galleries and how it applies to my work.

So I didn't get to go on up for any dawn shoots. The first day I was still practicing the first ten minutes of my talk; then I was scouting for my workshop. Not enough time! That's why I've already agreed to go back next year. Hope to see you there.

Tom Kelly has a great write-up on the Moab Photo Symposium too.

Dancers from Montezuma Creek Elementary School

The Festival of Cultures was going on in Moab last weekend at the same time as the Photo Symposium, but I did get out at the lunch break to see the Navajo dancers from Montezuma Creek Elementary School. So very cute. This is one of my favorite photos from their performance. I like how the feet, halfway off the edge of the stage, gives the sense of how excited they were to be performing.

Waterfall at Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, Big Sur California (Canon G9)

I will go back to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park someday, with a tide table and a tripod. The interaction of waves and falling water was mesmerizing. This trip, like all my travels with R, was spectacular. I added 3 new birds to my life list (including a gorgeous spring-feathered male Townsend's Warbler. R saw a condor from the Ventana flock to make up for missing the ones I saw last May. Good weather, food, company. A perfectly delightful rest for both of us. And now back to our regularly scheduled lives.

R has already left again to give a science lecture. I need to make plans for my next road trip, after a few days at home to gather my thoughts. Neither of us has properly unpacked since before Christmas. There is a garden to plant, Photowalks to organize, business to tend, none of which gets done very effectively on the road.

I also need to restart my GTD system, which completely fell apart in February's travel schedule. That will take me a half day, which seems like a lot, unless I think about how much time I would waste by not doing it.

I had been procrastinating on something for the last 6 weeks, and it took me all of 3 hours to do, when I finally did it today. Not the 3 days of misery I imagined, just 3 hours. Afterwards, I observed that, of all the worries weighing me down, the heaviest loads on my shoulders, the ones that seem like I will never be able to shrug off, are loads I put there myself.

Watercolor effect on an image from Yellowstone (click on image to see original)

Sadly, I am not writing this post from Wyoming. Try as I might on Monday, I could not find an open path into Jackson. I drove all the way to Idaho Falls as the cold front passed over. Fairly blizzardy north of Ogden, not so bad around Tremonton, typically terrible around Malad, only to find at every exit that the roads eastward were impassible. Optimism gave way to the realization that I had finally been skunked, not just on a sunrise, but on an entire expedition.

Yesterday, instead of snowmobiling in Yellowstone, I made some demos and examples for my Blending, Fixing and Remixing workshop. It's on offer at the Moab Photo Symposium; if you are a Utah Photowalker, you can attend the workshop preview on February 23. By preview, I mean that it will last 90 minutes instead of 5 hours, and will be free to members. It's easy to join our Photowalking group, just hop on over to our Flickr site.

I like much about the original photo, taken on my first winter trip to Yellowstone in February of 2003. We had been wolf-watching in the northern part of the park, then took the snow coach to the Snow Lodge. I saw these trees at a stop at a warming hut as the clouds began to clear. It was -40°F at Old Faithful, cold enough that my breath froze in crystals as I exhaled, but not cold for the wolves-we saw a group rolling on the snow like on a carpet in front of the fireplace.

I will reorganize this year's expedition, as the outfitter was really cool about letting me reschedule. Looks like there will be PLENTY of snow for snowmobiling. Just let them get it off the roads before I head out again.

Deer-O Motel sign

I would make a home for all the old neon relics that could still be found and restore them to their proper colorful, blinking status. Van Buren Street in Phoenix was the old US Highway 89 (and 60) through Phoenix, and many of the old motels are congregated together in a couple of blocks. Imagine driving across the desert from Tucson, no air-conditioning in the car, the sun is setting into a red sky as you finally hit the strip of new car dealerships and motels on the eastern approach to Phoenix. One of the old signs is in the shape of a swimming pool, others advertise in room air-conditioning and tvs. It must have seemed like a mini-Las Vegas. Now most of the signs are covered with plastic back-light panels, or gone altogether. Or going fast. Phoenix is installing light rail a couple blocks to the south of Van Buren, and the whole area is headed toward redevelopment, even if the Arizona State Hospital and Salvation Army are the anchor tenants right now. I hope someone saves the neon. I'd better go buy some lottery tickets--that someone is probably going to have to be me.

Desert Bighorn sheep in Zion National Park

We found them east of the small tunnel, where the road makes almost a 180 degree switch-back, peering down on to the road. Another male with three more sheep was on the other side of the road. Everybody else left, I crept up the hill and waited. When they came back, I didn't look at them. They were fine until a diesel engine went by. Their hoofs clattered on the rock when they ran. Could have stayed with them all day, but then some guy came up and started talking to us. Loudly. Needed some attention. That was the end of the bighorns for the day.

Didn't make many photos except these sheep. We spent one entire day in our lawn chairs near Temple of Sinawava, just being still and watching the sun move across the canyon walls. The air was warm and still, yellow cottonwood leaves hanging limp. I heard a rustling noise and I looked up from my book. I saw a thousand leaves floating toward my face, as if they all smiled and let go at once. No photo needed, the experience is imprinted on my memory forever.

Virgin River, Zion National Park

I got out of Bryce as the first snowflakes hit the windshield. The section of U.S. 89 from Panguitch to Mt. Carmel is some of my favorite driving country. The last of the golden cottonwoods fluttered along the Sevier and Virgin rivers, a fruit orchard scarlet red, even found a donkey. I always look along the Long Valley for the exact point where the watersheds meet. It's the transition point from the Colorado River drainage to the Basin and Range interior drainage, but the slopes are too subtle for 65 mph geography.

Dropping 1,200 feet from Mt. Carmel to Springdale had a subtle-like-a-truck impact on the fall colors. The valley floor was afire with color. California was afire too, more haze. Fourth trip since July that wildfire smoke has diverted my attention away from the big landscapes. No polarizer was going to cut through the muck. I felt sorry for the folks who were doing photography workshops, hoping for the classic sunset on the bridge photo. And the place was thick with photographers. I guess the word is out on Zion at this time of the year. I still can't figure out why I didn't get the memo before now.

Don't sleep in

The second morning at Bryce Canyon, in which I did not sleep in, was even more magnificent. I moved around a lot, recomposed several variations, all the while the colors were getting more saturated.

I did not use the split ND filter, as I have not sawn off the tabs on the Cokin filter holder to make it so my 12-24 lens doesn't vignette. Instead, this image is a composite of four layers from three images (needed to ACR process the highlights in the clouds separately from the midtones, thus four). Even if I had MacGyver'd that filter holder, it probably wouldn't have worked, as the range of exposures is +4 stops.

Celebratory breakfast at the Flying M Restaurant in Panguitch. I've added it and my Springdale favorite to the Highway 89 dining list. A girl's got to keep her strength up.

Bryce Canyon from Sunrise Point

I said it was an amazing sunrise. Even a three stop graduated neutral density filter wasn't enough, but it held the exposure close enough to finish the job by blending together two layers with ACR settings adjusted for sky and stone.

Packing up, I wondered whether the weak storm moving across Utah would sock in the rest of the day. The idea of sleeping in the next morning flitted through my mind. I don't expect sunrise gifts like that when I go out, much less twice in a row. But I came to make pictures, the kind of pictures that don't get made by lounging in pajamas. I'd better be back the next morning, just to see what happens. I'll show you tomorrow.

Bryce Canyon National Park

Yesterday's sunrise was even better than the day before. Then as I was leaving, a few flakes of mushy snow hit the windshield. Drop 5000' of elevation by heading over to Zion, change the weather. Blue skies, shirt sleeve temps. I cannot believe I've never been here before during fall colors. If you can drop everything, this weekend would be the time to visit. I'm off to look for low-contrast light - something of a challenge under a perfectly clear autumn sky.

Mule deer buck - Yellowstone National Park

My repair request to Nikon describes the failure of the D2X as occurring "after a burst of frames." Here's the subject of said burst. He was relaxing, moving into dappled sunlight with a well-shadowed background. This is worse than a story about a fish that got away.

We saw about the same number of critters as expected on the Montana trip, but we observed much more varied and interesting behaviors, and for much longer intervals. Most of those photographs are simply record shots (like the wolverines) but I have a new appreciation for the rigors of wildlife photography. It's addictive, and an expensive game to play. Anyone care to stake me for a few hundred millimeters? My quick, undiluted-by-facts calculation suggests that about $15/mm should do it. I'll happily engrave your name on a benefactor's plate mounted on the lens barrel, or the blog.

I'll be down in the basement, working out with the weights. Someone's going to have to carry that gear.

Kayaking on Lake Josephine in Glacier National Park

Paddling Lake Josephine again was a major target for the Montana Voyage 2007, objective completed on the last week of the trip. We first paddled it in 1996, carrying the boats up the trail and over the moraine separating upper Josephine from Swiftcurrent Lake. This time, we paddled up the channel that connects the two, with only a slight amount of boat scrapings left on the rocks. Josephine is fed by Grinnell Glacier, and that water is cold! The 1996 voyage involved surfing down a fierce set of wind-driven waves, at the limits of my skill-set at the time. Fear of hypothermia motivated a wetsuit purchase and a kayaking rescue course the following summer. The 2007 voyage wasn't anywhere so dramatic, just the two of us on a placid lake, with calling loons and kingfishers darting among the trees.

I took the D70 along as a back-up, hiking and infrared body. It stows easily in a dry bag, and I've had no trouble making photos with it from my boat's cockpit, so long as we correct the sometimes wonky horizon lines. My boat has good secondary stability, which means it feels a bit tippy, but is hard to completely invert. I needed some secondary stability when the back-up body was pressed into service full-time. The D2X experienced a shocking failure at a most inopportune time (envision a buck mule deer in velvet approaching me at 20 feet). It's already on the way to a Nikon service bay (camera, not the deer), and I am not thinking about the signs that autumn is coming early this year.

Having been disconnected from the Internet for so long, and returning with +40GB of unsorted images (electricity was a rarity, and those precious electrons were devoted to burning DVDs; the laptop requires one hour per DVD!), this trip report is going to look more like a dim sum trolley cart than an organized multi-course sit-down meal. We are back, sated with scenery and wildlife, a little over-smoked for our tastes, but very happy. And pleased with my progress on the book project. But Montana is a big place under all that sky - lots of stories to tell about their stretch of highway 89. I'll be headed that way again before long.

Mountain Goat, Glacier National Park

Yes, two people can live and sleep for 22 days out of a Toyota 4Runner and still enjoy one another's company and the road. We have designated every nook and cranny in the craft for storage of specific items (it is a mystery how the wine puller ended up in the passenger side door with the bug spray, sunscreen and apres-latrine hand-sanitizer, but there it remains, because we both know exactly where it is). We can now shift all the bear-safe food containers from the front seats to back (where we sleep) in under 20 minutes in the dark. Nutrition has been suspect, but we found a great brand of hazelnut bread for PB&J, and a fine wine store in Great Falls.

I've filled about 40 GB of files, despite the disastrous conditions with wildfire smoke up and down the Montana Rocky Mountain Front. More on all that later -- we have an early morning start (again). We won't have an internet connection again for a few more days. I haven't even had time to look at my pictures, just enough to copy them to DVDs and back-up DVDs. I hope you like this goat as a preview of the MT segment of the book project, will be back with more details after the weekend and our return to SLC.

Livingston, MT

Route 66 signage, Williams, Arizona

Another neon sign I found on my last trip to Arizona, made quite a bit earlier in the evening, and a better illustration about the "blue light special" than the previous post.

Everyone knows about Rte 66, but not Hwy 89. It is great fun to talk with the people I meet about all the reasons that 89 is the greatest western road trip imaginable. I'll do the list another time - today's interesting fact is that the two highways actually merged together in Arizona for about 50 miles, from Ashfork to Flagstaff.

We are in Livingston, Montana, in a cafe called the Coffee Crossing on Park Street. R has rated the latte a 9 on the R scale, 1-10 (only one latte has ever "gone to eleven"). Very comfortable spot, with wi-fi. We have done our half dozen errands, from finding a notary for some last minute SLC paperwork to visiting the flyfishing museum. Next we head off into the Gallatin National Forest to the north, brand new territory. And when I reach Great Falls, I will have traveled every last mile of US89, a milestone I am greatly looking forward to.

Hay field below Glacier National Park, Montana

Guest blogger Millie tells about our adventure:

From Salt Lake City at the foot of the Wasatch Mountains and the edge of the Great Basin, to the end of Highway 89 at Piegan, Montana in the middle of the prairie at the border of the US and Canada in 5 days. Round-trip. Not too bad if you love road trips through the West as I do, and if you have the knowledgeable, talented, and interesting company that I had.

Sunset at Cedar Breaks National Monument, Utah

I almost gave up on Cedar Breaks on Saturday. The smoke from fires at the North Rim had impeded Friday's photos, and I was pretty disgusted with the air by the time I hit Cedar Breaks on the way home.

It was such a well-crafted plan - drive from North Rim after sunrise, stop in Kanab to use the cell phone (T-Mobile has pitiful coverage in Northern AZ, Southern Utah), have a relaxing afternoon at Cedar Breaks, with plenty of time to figure out my angles.

Somewhat shocking that I've lived in Utah for 14 years now and had never been there. I'll definitely go back, make it a camping trip. It was lovely being high and cool, until you looked over the rim. Enough wind was blowing to lift out the haze, but then it would pool up again. Little did I know...

The rest of my plan was to drive home after sunset on Saturday night, and get a burger in Beaver, Utah on my way. So I skipped dinner. Headed out at 9:00 pm, down the mountain to I-15, in thickening smoke. If you haven't lived out west through a fire season, it is hard to imagine what smoke can do to the color of the light. Not amber, like sunglasses, but a putrid orange fog that burns sinuses and could bring on asthma, it's so thick. Not at all like a cheery wood fire.

I never made it to Beaver, Utah. The freeway was shut down - traffic diverted 20 miles east to Hwy 89 (!) on a scary little two-lane connector road carrying all the semi-trucks, motor homes and amateur drivers heading to and from Las Vegas. In the dark, and the smoke. Not good. It was 11:30 when I made it to Richfield, not an entrepreneur in sight who was interested in keeping a hamburger joint open to make some extra cash. Called R at home to learn about the Milford Fire, the cause of the shut down (a serious absence of signage at the detour, but lots of flashing red and blues). I ate Dreyers Dibs ice cream for dinner and kept driving.

The Best Western in Salina had its "no vacancy" sign lit, somewhat interesting that the light bulbs worked in the "no" section, which would likely see so little use. Semi-truck rigs parked three deep in the parking lot nearby, lots more pulled over on the shoulders of 89. After midnight, very few cars remained in the line of traffic with me. It was eerie to be the only car for miles on the freeway when the detour finally returned me to I-15. I kept driving. Made it home shortly after 2:00 am, congratulating myself on getting here in one piece. I read later that a lot of people had it far worse, but I don't need to do that kind of driving again, thank you.

But drive again, I shall, on Wednesday. This time I am northbound to Montana, where it is supposed to be cool and nothing is on fire right now. That could change, of course. Fire is a part of the west, like dust, or snow you can sweep with a broom, or yellow-headed blackbirds. I'm thinking safe thoughts for the firefighters out there tonight. And looking forward to getting a breath of fresh Montana air.

4th of July Fire north of I-40, Williams, Arizona

The City of Flagstaff cancelled their holiday fireworks about the day I arrived. Much unhappiness about the last hour decision-making; the civic groups had already invested up front money in glow-in-the-dark trinkets to sell, etc. But the folks in Flagstaff earned the right to say I told you so to their neighbors to the west.

They switched locations twice, but the city leaders of Williams thought they'd found a safe place to launch their fireworks display. I found a spot in the parking lot next tothe rodeo arena, with a number of families around. The show started out great, and then just stopped. A somewhat intoxicated man wandered out of the dark and said, "I don't think there are going to be any more fireworks, there's a fire over there," pointing in the direction of the fireworks launch site. Oops.

Read in the Flagstaff paper that it quickly burned a half acre, on city and forest service lands. The streaks in the photo are the cars and trucks that slowed down only slightly at the sight of a fire looming up in the darkness. A short, but memorable fireworks display for this year's fourth.

Monsoon weather started today. One day too late for the folks in Williams. Tomorrow I'm off to the North Rim, see if the clouds will gather that far north.

Near the Paria movie sets, Utah

I managed to delay my launch on Sunday (by dawdling) and then missed a turn in Cedar City, so by sunset, I was pretty sure I'd blocked off my options for any decent subject. I was watching the milemarkers, because one of my favorite spots on Hwy 89 east of Kanab was coming up, but I'd forgotten that the turn off to old Paria was just before it. Let's say the tires didn't squeal, but I kicked up a lot of dust.

My geography of the Colorado Plateau has much improved after all my research, and it was fun to think about being in the upper Paria and knowing that I would be at its confluence with the Colorado River in the morning. Which I was, after a 4:00 am launch. AZ doesn't switch to daylight savings time, so 4:00 was really 5:00, which wasn't so bad. I try to keep my sleep schedule synced to sunrise shooting anyway; makes it a lot easier when I am on the road.

Made it to Flagstaff yesterday. When I am on the road today, it will be the "mother road" of Route 66. I've been thinking that Hwy 89 could be called the "sister wife" to Rte. 66, but inside Utah, some people might not find it funny, and outside of Utah, they wouldn't get the joke. Either way, I am convinced (to the point of evangelizing) that Highway 89 a much better road trip. See you out there.

A former LDS ward building, now privately owned, in Ovid, Idaho

When I was wandering about extreme southeastern Idaho last weekend, I had a chance to photograph this old church building. Last time R and I drove by, we fantasized about buying it and fixing it up. Apparently, plenty of people have had that idea, but the owners, according to my friends on the Scenic Byway tour, don't want to sell.

By extreme southeastern Idaho, I am referring to this section of the "Mormon corridor, " which was settled by an organized LDS expansion effort in the 1880s. The pioneers who made homes in St. Anthony and Paris thought they were still in Utah, only to find out their mistake when the Idaho tax assessors came a'collecting. Yup, a proper survey showed that the state line was further to the south, and that's how Paris got to be the county seat instead of St. Anthony.

Like everywhere on the highway, it's changing, maybe faster than the residents want. Heard a Four Seasons resort is going in, or trying to get permitted to do so. Lot of winter in Bear Lake Counties, both the Idaho and Utah versions. They are making hay right now, drying in neat green rows under the proverbial sunshine. One guy I met said that summer is two days long and not in a row. Now would be a good time to get out on the road, especially highway 89.

Toolson's general store in Bancroft Idaho

I invited myself to accompany the Idaho Bear Lake/Oregon Trail Scenic Byway committee on a tour of "their" section of U.S. 89 from St. Charles to Montpelier last Saturday. I learned a lot about how these committees work, how hard it is to get the "wayfinding" in place for the various sites, and how many "stakeholders" are involved in getting the simplest things done. I already knew that one dedicated person might be all it takes to make a difference, but I saw it again a dozen times during the day long trip from the Utah border to Lava Hot Springs.

Toolson's general store in Bancroft ID, though not on Highway 89, makes the most awesome chocolate shakes (I had mine with raspberry too). After the 89 project is done, I plan to visit the ghost town of Chesterfield and have another shake on the way. (That's Mr. Toolson in the green - his dad bought the property in 1910 or thereabouts.)

Classic Chevy fins

For a person who doesn't like to fly, I have been to a lot of airports. I wondered, I counted, I remembered more. 71 73 so far. Some unusual ones, like Yakutat, Invercargill and Yellowknife. I can't exactly remember when the landing in SLC was diverted to Twin Falls, so that date may change. I mainly try to forget the terror of the attempted landing in the thunderstorm before the pilot had a better thought.

The image doesn't have anything specific to do with airports, but I did make it on the first trip with my D70, back in 2004. Read on to see the entire table. I will update it as I add to my collection, although that's not likely to be anytime soon. Road trips for me, until this book is done. After that, all destinations considered. Recommendations?

Antlers for sale

The other reason I went to Jackson last weekend was to photograph the annual elk antler auction. Thousands of animals winter on the National Elk Refuge adjacent to Jackson, and the males shed their antlers in the spring. For decades now, when the elk leave for higher ground, the Boy Scouts of Jackson collect the antlers and auction them off for a fundraiser. These days, with prices going up, in part because of the Asian medicine trade, and because of the demand for naturally shed antlers for chandeliers, etc., the Elk Refuge receives 80% of the proceeds of the auction.

Male Mountain Bluebird carrying food to chicks in the nesting box

A few years ago, I noticed that a series of nesting boxes had sprouted along the boundary of the National Elk Refuge between Jackson, Wyoming and Grand Teton National Park. Our annual trip is usually in late September for paddling and aspencade, long after fledging, and this weekend was the first time I'd seen the boxes with birds in residence.

Sunset at Yavapai Point, Grand Canyon National Park

The day I saw the condors at El Tovar started out with a clear blue sky. Over the course of the afternoon, it clouded over with potential. I parked my car at the overlook, made myself a PB&Honey sandwich, and waited.

Plenty of people came and went. The sun dipped under the cloud with a blindingly bright change in intensity. The visitors practically cheered. I've never seen strangers break out into public displays of admiration before. And then a cloud moved in. The guy standing next to me started packing his camera and we talked about sunrise locations. Some of the crowd started to drift away to the parking lot, toward dinner, warm rooms, hot showers. Too bad:

Antelope Canyon

I was granted a perfect day for my first visit to a Colorado Plateau slot canyon with no danger of flash floods. So cloudless that I didn't even bother with sunrise that morning, saving my energy for the canyon. What the picture doesn't tell is that the canyon is always crowded at noon, lots of tour groups at the peak time. Our guide and the other photographers worked together to give everyone a chance to make the shots we wanted. Only had my tripod kicked once during an exposure. Even though my photographing time was limited, I often stepped away from the viewfinder just to take in the totality of being within the earth. I'll go back the next chance I can. The place is magical.

Condor #41 over the El Tovar Hotel at the south rim of Grand Canyon National Park

The storm started to break up as I arrived at the Grand Canyon area on Sunday. The snow wasn't sticking since it was 45 degrees, but the wind made up for the temperature. I didn't expect much at sunset, but I went to check it out anyway - pictures will follow when I get home to a color-corrected monitor.

Slept cold Sunday night, I was awake for the 4:30 alarm. Drove out to Lipan point, surprised that the sky was completely clear of clouds. Got some "nice"pictures, nothing special, and drove around collecting some other low-hanging fruit. I stopped by the El Tovar to add to my collection of historic park buildings, and saw four condors soaring over the hotel entrance.

I have been looking for condors since 1998, when R and I rafted the Colorado and glimpsed one 1,000 feet above the river, too big to be anything else. I've hung out at the Marble Canyon Bridge, where they roost sometimes. I've craned my neck 180 degrees on every trip down south. And here they were, practically flying through the trees.

Since I didn't have a plan for the mid-day, it was easy to drop everything for the birds. I spent 6 hours along the rim, in the most touristy spot in the park. The condors disappeared, and then out of nowhere, they would cruise over - above or below the rim. I suspect they were flying so low because the air was still quite cold, not much thermal action, even though there was a lot of wind. Sometimes a single bird, but usually at least a pair - at one point I saw 5 flying together.

The Grand Canyon train arrived and disgorged its Sunday day trippers. I ate an ice cream. The Pollen Trail Dancers troupe performed twice in front of the Hopi House. I talked to a lot of nice people. I took lots of photos of/for people with their cameras. The train was loading up passengers for the return trip when I left to find a sunset spot. By then it had clouded over again. What would sunset bring, and could I ask for anything more after the condors?

-- Page, Arizona

A 1931 REO, One of two registered REOs in the nation, per its proud owner/restorer/driver

12 days into my road trip, and yesterday I broke down and ate fast food. The appeal is all in the consistency - when I am tired, I don't want a culinary challenge, just "same food." The price of consistency is missing out on the great, but I didn't feel like risking the truly bad.

I also bought a portable alarm clock yesterday. My motel room was cheap, but lacking in essential amenities. It will be useful for other voyages - I can sleep right trough the alarm on my wristwatch. I'm not sure what to think of the eight "soothing" white noises it also makes - the alarm seems only to beep.

But I was actually up before the 5 am alarm, because my phone rang. The car club president, letting me know that his troop had been scared off by the weather, and most were trailering their cars instead of participating in the convoy. It was clear and beautiful when I hit the road at 5 am (I went in the opposite direction since I had time to reshoot something else) but now it is snowing, so maybe those guys knew something about weather.

The car club didn't have as much participation at the show last night either. The gale force winds blowing tumbleweeds across the highway might have deterred some of them from putting their paint jobs at risk. So I was glad to get the chance to see the REO, a Hutmobile, and a gorgeous red '64 Corvette.

Doesn't that sound fun? Just pulled it off the NWS site for tonight at the Grand Canyon. Have a campsite reservation for there tonight. Guess I'll be catching up on some reading and napping. A freak late spring storm. Could be fabuolous as it clears, I am telling myself. Repeatedly. About time to take a compass reading and head north. Heading toward home. But put it on the record that I didn't come to Arizona in April for the snow.

In a nice warm Starbucks--Prescott, Arizona.

Prickly Pear, a food source for desert rabbits like the one mowing down the plant in my mom's yard.

I had another run-in with a cactus yesterday outside of Wickenburg. This one prevailed, and I learned that spines are nearly impossible to pick out of neoprene, and are now permanently embedded in my camera strap.

Between Wickenburg to Prescott, the Sonora Desert drops away on the Yarnell Hill, the saguaro forest disappears and, in less than 25 miles (and a couple thousand feet of elevation), ponderosa pines canopy the road.

Prescott is hosting a marathon tomorrow, and the place is crawling with people in t-shirts, shorts and fancy running shoes. Luckily, I checked the town website beforehand. Thus armed with information, I picked a motel on the far side of the activity, so I can make a quick getaway for my morning assignment tomorrow. If I get it done quickly enough (or at all--there are factors, like the correct placement of a bridge, which I can't control), I will race back to the finish line just about the time the leaders might arrive. Or so is my plan.

Not much went according to plan yesterday, so I'm trying to hang loose and not get stressed about it. Weather looks awful for the next couple of days too. But I have an invitation to photograph a classic car club tonight, and not much can be better than that. If I find wireless again before I get home, I'll try and load some up.

--After yesterday's dawn search for more short saguaros in bloom, followed by packing up my mounds of essential road junk, only to spend nine hours on the road making a 90 mile drive, ending up in a smoker's motel room, I am now resorting to caffeine. The iced mocha is delicious; the experimental outcome could be alarming. From the Prescott Starbucks.

Arizona Falls, Phoenix

Mom and I have been to the Waterworks or Arizona Falls twice in two days. Yesterday, someone got there first to do senior portraits, and then a thunderstorm chased us out early, so I didn't get all the shots I wanted.

Today we had absolutely clear skies. Mom watched the swallows dashing all over the canal at sunset, and then gave a hand with some light-painting as the sky turned that desert lapis blue color.

The falls are sort of natural feature, in that the canal-builders hit bedrock and decided not to bother eliminating the 20+ foot drop. Early on, the place was developed as a public entertainment area, with a dance floor. The falls created a natural evaporative cooler that must have been an attraction all on its own before refrigerated air conditioning was invented.

Tomorrow I start winding my way back north. A late cool-weather storm is predicted for the weekend. Luckily, R mailed me my long underwear. It seemed kind of ridiculous when I opened the package, but I think I'll be glad to have them when I get to the Grand Canyon on Saturday.

Random observations from the road:

• I learned this week that saguaros blossom after they gow to 8 feet tall. If you happen to go tromping though the desert in your only pair of shoes, it's a good idea to look carefully for cacti on the ground rather than at the flowers above your head. Otherwise, you might pick up some spines that stay stuck in the side of your shoe for a lot longer than you think is possible, putting your mom's dog at risk of a hurt paw or worse.
• Scouting all day when it's 97 degrees is hot work; nothing to be done about that but turn up the radio. Cruising around to my favorite Phoenix Spanglish station makes it more fun. The station has upped its power since last year, and it now reaches almost all the way to Tucson now. Oddly, it doesn't make it to mom's place very well. My Spanish comprehension on the advertisements has improved since December, but for no apparent reason since I haven't been studying. I can tell you where the big Cinco de Mayo parties are happening next weekend in the valley, but I won't be here by then.
• No matter how great the light, a local landmark looks like crap while under construction. I loved the big red tape on the windows. And I appreciated the sign informing me that construction was scheduled for completion by late 2006.
• I went to the Arizona Biltmore today, and I passed a house for sale. $20,000,000. Two thoughts: the sign advertising the property was shockingly tacky. And for $20 millions, would you live on the main road to a major tourist destination? I thought not.
• Phoenix needs to get a clue about signage for detours. They are building light rail and I imagine someday it will be most excellent. In the meantime, don't pass through Phoenix without a good map, because you are on your own when they shut down the freeway for the weekend. Figure it out, but don't expect any help from ADOT.

In the end, I did make my way (despite ADOT's 'help") back to mom's palace. I'm still extracting cactus spines from my shoes, but the dog isn't limping, so all is good.

from mom's less-than-$20 million-palace in Phoenix.

Detail of Tucson's St. Augustine Cathdral

More mariachi today, at the Fiesta de Garibaldi in the park. Before the fiesta, the confereees held a mariachi mass at the Cathedral, where I shot this picture early this morning. In the end I went back to bed for an hour instead of the mass, which helped since I stayed at the fiesta far longer than I'd originally intended, and them started my evening session earlier than planned. More pictures soon.

From a frontage road motel in Tucson

Folkloric dancers

I get to meet the greatest people on my project, and yesterday was a perfect example. I spent some time back stage at the Tucson International Mariachi Conference Student Showcase, with the performers, their parents, their mentors and the conference volunteers.

I was invited to join the sponsor's VIP of the conference. We went into each class, where at least 100 students were rehearsing for the big show tonight. The trumpet, guitar, violins, guitarrons and vihuela sections for each level practice together, with about 10 students per instructor. The voice students and the folkloric dancers were also practicing in their own rooms. The conference serves about 1,000 students. Even the beginners sounded good, and the master's level students were awesome. And that was just rehearsal - after the performance, I have a whole new appreciation for the tradition of mariachi. All I can say is the cliched versions I've heard before bear as much resemblance to real mariachi as Cheez-whiz does to brie.

The participants are from all over the southwest, of every ethnicity, and about as many girls as boys. I asked one of the board members when girls started joining the fun, and she said about 30 years ago - I'll bet that raised some eyebrows with the traditionalists back then.

I came down here because I wanted a nice story about Tucson and it was a good decision. I am so impressed with the organization of the conference, the enthusiasm of the volunteers, the focus on the students and the music itself. There may be a few tickets left for tonight's Espectacular. If you are in Tucson, go get some, or make a plan to get to the Fiesta on Saturday. That's where I'll be.

Bryce Canyon after a spring snow

Didn't get 5 hours out of town before I revised my plans to see how much snow had fallen at Bryce Canyon yesterday. Enough was falling as I scouting around that I decided to cancel my room in Page and check into Ruby's . The sunrise moment was obscured by a low cloud, but a good hour of light play followed. And I was first in the parking lot - a moral victory of sorts. If you are a photographer, you will understand what I mean. A pre-dawn start and an eight hour drive, and this one picture is all I have to offer for tonight.

Signing off from Mom's palace, Phoenix.

Sharkey

Last minute details before I head south for 17 days:

• Sharkey's portrait (would not lick his nose, even dabbed with peanut butter).
• R's portrait (would not lick his nose either. I didn't even ask. He did pose with his new guitar.)
• Snack shopping (rats, forgot the fruit roll-ups.)
• Heavy trash pick-up (R took care of that, hurray!)
• Condense an entire milk crate of collected research material into 400-500 3x5 index cards.
• Fill another milk crate with books to mine for facts to be transferred to more 3x5 cards. I only have 300 with me. I can buy more.
• Pack six battery chargers, after charging all the spares. This is getting ridiculous. Are you listening, gear manufacturers? (No, they are not. I had to buy a mop today because the profit is in the fact that you can't buy a replacement head for the one you already have.) But I am not throwing any more AAs into the landfill if I can help it.
• Remind Mom that I need a place to sleep Tuesday night.
• Print the sunrise charts.
• Go out to dinner with my guy.

I keep reminding myself that they have grocery stores in Arizona, and hardware stores, and everything I really need is within a day's drive from anywhere I'll be. Time to relax and go enjoy dinner. I'll blog as often as I can.

My name is Sweetheart

In Ireland , I developed an obsession with donkeys, which worsened after I read Kevin O'Hara's book, Last of the Donkey Pilgrims, about his travels around Ireland with a donkey cart. I like to look for them on my rambles (yesterday I spotted three near Marysvale). We met Sweetheart at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab.

Snow-kiting at Skyline Drive - Sanpete County, Utah

16 days, that's as long as I let R have the peace of his home before I organized a daytrip. In my defense, let me say that I wanted to breathe some clear air; the air pollution in SLC has been abysmal. Any excuseTime for an outing. From our place it's exactly 100 miles to Mt. Pleasant and just a bit more up to Skyline Drive. I dropped off some prints in Fairview from the live nativity and we headed up the hill.

Mohave Point, Grand Canyon National Park

The big snow storm before Christmas spread from SLC all the way to middle Arizona, so we accelerated our departure by 24 hours. Two punctured tires, a stop at Cabela's for hand-warmers, a motel door in Cameron AZ that couldn't be opened except by brute force, and we made it to the Grand Canyon for sunrise.

I hadn't been to the south rim since I was 13 years old - this was not the kind of properly scouted photo-op I like for my best work. R and I drove along the rim that morning, checking out all the overlooks, and I was disappointed to see a little haze already building up in the canyon. A ranger told us that the canyon itself sometimes had a inversion pattern, and what we were seeing wasn't pollution, just fog.

I watched some clouds floating up out of the canyon as we left the visitor center at Mather Point. Riding shotgun, I called for a stop at Mohave Point, where rising warm air lifted fleeting clouds from below the rim. The updraft also brought flocks of ravens. R stopped counting individuals after 202. We've never before seen ravens by the dozen--as many as 50 would stream by in the air currents. We watched them land just below the rim, picking for something (fallen pinons?) on the margins of shady, snow-covered ledges. The next day, the clouds were gone, the canyon got pretty hazy and the ravens cruised along in ones and twos again.

We were lucky, and guessed right on the weather. I would will drive through another snowstorm to see the ravens and the mist rising to meet the canyon's rim.

Lomaki ruins, Wupatki National Monument

One thing I love about my book project is the unending list of destinations to explore. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with the amount of work to do, but then I have a day like January 3.

A dollop of glass is twisted into the hanging loop

That one's mine. I helped make it at the Sonoran Glass Art Academy on my Tucson trip. It's yellow and hyacinth, with a twist. The process was fascinating, although Lee, Sarah and Eve were careful to do the hot, dangerous work themselves.

Mt. Nebo in the Wasatach Range tossing up a huge cloud

The weather turned deeply cold along the Wasatch range on Thursday, after the big snow storm, and all the peaks were forming lenticular clouds, this one being the most spectacular. It got colder as I headed south, down to 5 deg F in Richfield UT at 11 in the morning. When I stopped for gas in Panguitch, the fuel pumped strangely slowly. A woman pumping next to me said it was because the temperature had dropped to -10F the night before.

We gas pumpers witnessed a peculiar display of human emotion: an older man in his Porsche Cayenne screaming at the woman inside to unlock the doors, with liberal use of foul language. Not something you hear on the streets in Panguitch very often. The woman next to me said something like "I'd never put up with that!" as the fellow shouted that he wasn't going to let his passenger get what she wanted out of the convenience store and roared away. Even more oddly, they were back a few minutes later (gas still slowly pumping) and the woman made her purchase while he stayed in the car. Just goes to show you can't buy style from a car dealer, and you have no idea what someone else's troubles might be.

I remembered on the road somewhere around Kanab about the first lenticular cloud I saw and photographed. It was in Mt Rainier, probably in 1988. I was getting interested in photography, and I had splurged on one roll of black and white film along with my regular snapshot film. I used it on moonlight exposures on the peak and cloud in the rising full moon. I didn't have access to a darkroom, or know what to do in one, so I took it to my neighborhood film lab in Houston. This wasn't a drugstore, but a place that should know the drill. They processed that film, printed a contact sheet, and lost the negative. The contact sheet about broke my heart. For a beginner, the exposures were right on, the concepts worked and the cloud/mountain/moonlight/star combination was amazing. It hurt. I still wonder if someone stole that film. Never found, and for some strange reason, I let the loss discourage me for a long time. It took me a long time to learn how to get back in the saddle and shoot again.

Street vendor wares in San Martin de los Andes

The drive from Bariloche to San Martin de los Andes is publicized as the seven lakes road, crossing a pass in the Andes and between all these lakes. We planned to do it as a long day trip, but R's friend Nick arranged for us to stay in a private condo in San Martin.

Thinking on one's feet: traditional Argentine tango dancers improvise their steps

The conference R attended has a tradition of wrapping up with a grand finale banquet that showcases the local culture. At the 2004 meeting in Perth, the dinner was in a museum housing contemporary Aboriginal paintings and we were greeted with a traditional eucalyptus leaf smoke purification ceremony and didgeridoo music, then a modern dance interpretation of aboriginal themes.

Sunset over the Andes.

The Andes are wide in the Bariloche area. and this is looking northward, across Lake Nahuel Huapi, and broadside from the waves breaking 6-8 feet high on the waterfront. This is the best place to see a romantic sunset, but stay in your car, out of the Patagonian wind.

That's only half the lambs prepared for the asado - the rest are cooking on the other side of the patio

Yesterday at R's conference, the scientificos and "accompanying persons" (that's me) went on an all-day tour on Lake Nahuel Huapi and the adjoining national park. Unlike most of the last week, the winds were light yesterday, and we cruised in a protected bay of the lake, alleviating any lingering concerns about seasickness amongst the passengers.

Pub crawling the night away

If Argentinos see the dawn, it's because they haven't been to bed. Saturday morning, we encountered this crew as they stumbled out of the bar on the same street as our hotel. A street vendor was preparing hamburgers for them; they seem to have brought the beer themselves.

This morning, R and I went out at dawn to photograph the sunrise over the Andes. Right outside our hotel, at 6:30, we encountered a group of (mostly) boys spilling out of the club, big beers in hand. A street vendor was cooking them burgers, and we were all amused by my photographing them.

Another mystery explained - why we kept waking up to music and shouts at 3:00 am. That would be when the club OPENs. The people going home crossed paths with the people arriving to open the shops. Speaking of shop openings, we still can´t figure out which kinds of business close for siesta, and what's open when.

We completed 20 hours of classes and the Spanish has come along sufficienlty such that we can shop, understand the signs, and ask questions of the patient good people of Bariloche. (Which is redundant 'che' means people in the tribal linguistic groups here. ) R and I were greatly pleased with ourselves to understand the jokes on our paper placemats at a cafeteria. Ok, maybe they were meant for kids, but the Brazilians at the table next to us were reading theirs too.

I despair of ever being able to roll my 'rr' sound. R can do it perfectly - his pronunciation is wonderful. Perro means dog, and there are tons of them on the streets, looking for handouts. This morning in the park, we were adopted by a pack of dogs as we walked along the waterfront. The ran ahead and waited for us, criss-crossed every street I did in my rambling abut for photo angles, went up the hill to the central plaza and didn't leave us until we ran into a vegetable truck unloading at a supermarket. For a long ways, a great big Husky walked at my side like an old friend. And I really can't explain it, but when I was photographing a statue of the wolf nusing the sons of Rome, one of the dogs starting barking in a frenzy AT the statue. That has been there forever in dog years. There's a lot here that has yet to make sense

We shift hotels tomorrow, should be able to upload photos with computer access in our room. Until then, hasta luego.

Hola!

No pictures yet, have not found a wi-fi location. Have found chocolate, dental floss and a glacier. The last was the easiest - we took an all-day bus ride to El Cerro Tronador (the thunderer), the highest peak in this part of Patagonia, on the border with Chile. The ice cracked and groaned tremendously, the tour guide fell asleep in the sunshine on the grounds of the restaurant, and we saw a CONDOR, actually several huge birds soaring over El Tronador himself. The only flowers we saw were dandelions and daffodils. The Argentinians had a difficult time getting Spanish-heritage immigrants to move to Patagonia, so many of the local symbols relate to the Welsh, Germans, Swiss pioneers. Today I saw an actual St. Bernard dog with barrel under the chin.

One of five brides and some flower girl mischief spotted in Sydney on 1 September 2004, traditionally the first day of spring in Australia.

My bridespotting game has three "rules":

Snow on Signal Mountain

The snow started yesterday just as we entered the park and blew with a lake effect off Jackson Lake for most of the afternoon. It was so tempting to lie abed, because the storm wasn't predicted to lift until late today. But we did not. Went out to the Oxbow, because it was simple, fought off the hordes and got skunked by Mt. Moran, which should look like this or this.

So I found this instead. I really liked the rim of snow on the trees, and waited until the photography workshop and the other serious - oh so serious photographers left. In the meantime, I climbed up the ridge to clear some willows and waited. Until the sun came out. And this is the result.

Mutton bustin'

Mt. Pleasant hosts a two day rodeo, complete with bull-riding and rodeo clowns, for the Fourth of July holidays. Even with the serious riders looking for prize money, the hometown crowd gets to participate, and they start them young. Every kid got a blue ribbon and a high-five from the rodeo clown.

At the Ogden Mountain Man Rendezvous

Trappers wintered in Ogden in 1825-26, and they also had a real rendezvous the next summer at Bear Lake. Kerry, from Battle Mountain, took second in this shooting competition.

Litto's Hubcap Ranch, in eastern Napa Valley, Calif., is perhaps the West's flashiest roadide attraction, with more than 5,000 chrome hubcaps strung up along aong a quarter mile of fence (and trees and sheds). This collection - state landmark No. 939 - started in the 1930s, when Litto Damonte began setting out caps knocked loose by the area's roads; drivers added more. Today, his grandson tends the ranch and welcomes visitors and their picnics. 6654 Pope Valley Rd, off Highway 29.

Via Magazine

Pinnacles in Nambung National Park, Western Australia

Bridespotting in Sydney, Australia.

On a one day outing in Sydney, we observed five separate weddings, the first Saturday in September being the traditional beginning of spring. The friends of the groom at this wedding came on motor bikes; the flower girls were waiting almost patiently for the best man to run back from the limo with the wedding rings.

Autumn was late this year in Wyoming. After ten years of driving Hwy 189 to Jackson at about this time of year, the answer is that timing fall colors is impossible. Over the 6 days we were up there, the aspen color bloomed from nothing to brilliant.

Kayaking on Jenny Lake

We had a great time the weekend of August 15-19 paddling on Shoshone Lake with our canoeing companions.
New life-list species: Burreed, W. Fringed Gentian
Species of note: Golden Eagle eating a deer carcass on HWY 189 N of Kemmerer.

New life-list species: none
Species of note: Scarlet gilia

Yesterday evening at 7:00 pm, R and I hiked up Millcreek to Dog Lake. In training for the Shoshone Lake paddle next month, naturalizing took second priority to cardio work. Clear skies, about 100 deg in SLC when we left the house. Much cooler at the top of the canyon, but still hot work. On the descent, as it was getting dark, we heard a low booming sound, like I imagine the warning call of a grouse might be. Only one mammal, a chipmunk. A brief glimpse of a two day old moon as we headed down canyon afterwards. Arcturus is already west of the meridian when it is first visible now - summer is going by fast.

Heading up Little Water:

• Monkshood
• Pink Indian paintbrush
• Mint
• Cow parsnip
• Fleabane
• Coneflowers
• Goldenrod
• Richardson's and Sticky Geraniums
• Fireweed
• Mertensia
• a pale lavendar penstemon
• a light lavendar lupine
• Baneberry in fruit
• a groundsel

Additional species descending via Big Water (drier exposure)

• Scarlet gilia
• Larkspur
• Engleman's aster
• Utah sweet pea

Few birds active:

• Black-chinned hummingbird
• Chipping sparrow
• Juncos