Day 68 - The Weather Jonahs!

We’ve decided that we are weather jinxes. It seems as if we are in that Peanuts cartoon where the cloud and rain follow that one poor little guy all over. And so it seems with us. I never thought about rain in the desert until the past three nights. Tomorrow, I’ll take the umbrella. But tonight, we went to Dead Horse State Park. The name is derived from a legend. In the 1800’s a group of cowboys drove wild horses out to the high mesa surrounded by a 2,000 foot drop to the Colorado River save this one 30 yard opening. After selecting the horses they want, they left the brushwood fence up abandoning the horses to a terrible death by thirst, being able to smell the river below. Now, if there is any truth to this legend, it must have been horrific. We were there during a brief rain storm. Puddles formed and then disappeared as if someone had sucked them up with a wet dry vacuum. And even the rocks were warm and dry only twenty minutes later. The view down was spectacular, especially when the sun hit the mesas and canyon far below. In this part of the Colorado’s 1450 mile journey, the water was jade green at Horseshoe Bend and moving quite slowly. We spent lots of time waiting for the sun to reappear but when it did, it made a world of difference making the colors of the rock layers just pop. This part of Canyonlands is mostly stepped mesas with a couple of dramatic spires. Carl has decided not to visit Canyonlands as there is more than enough to keep us busy at Arches. So, in the morning, we’re off to Landscape Arch, the thinnest and longest of the arches in the park. We just won’t be there quite so early.

Day 59- Between Two Princes

Before we went to bed last night, I made sure to set the alarm on the cell phone for 3:45AM and turn it on. It went off, we got dressed and waited in our stateroom for the announcement telling us we were just 30 minutes from Prince Rupert. But the announcement didn’t come and no one knocked on our door to make sure we were awake as we’d been told they would do. Something had gone wrong with the system but was it theirs or mine. After about 45 minutes, I realized what happened. My phone contacted a local Canadian tower and discovered it was on Pacific Time, 1 hour later than the Alaskan Time the ship runs on. So the alarm went of at 3:45 AM Pacific Time. Technology isn’t perfect and neither am I. What I should have done was to just wait for the announcement or the knock on the door which came about an hour after we were ready. The call came to go to the car deck and it took a few minutes for everyone to get their stuff hauled down over the stairs. The guy in front of us must have been in a hurry. He started his vehicle up and started rolling off the ship before he was told to and people started yelling in all directions. He almost took a mirror off of another vehicle on his passenger side. Then it was our turn. The same very capable young man took control and Carl eased our truck slowly forward and up the ramp, adjusting inch by inch as the deck hand directed. We had a chance to thank him and shake his hand as we were given the all clear sign to continue up the ramp on our own. A dock worker directed us into the Canadian Customs line and it was just a few minutes before Carl and the Customs Officer were doing the 20 question dance, “Have we any weapons?, How much alcohol did we have with us?, Any fruit, vegetables, $10,000 in currency or instruments?” ( Yeah, right!!! ). He took our passports, consulted with the computer screen and then asked us to pull off to the right and park. Someone would be with us in a moment. Another customs Officer came to the window, asked a few more questions, “where was home?, how long had we been in Alaska? Did we have proof of our social security numbers with us?” Well, it was then he told Carl to shut off the truck and to come with him. I started to get out of the truck but the Officer said I didn’t need to come inside. So, I sat in the truck and waited and waited. It seemed much longer than it really was but finally Carl returned to tell me a Carl E Hill Jr. was wanted in Indiana. It didn’t take long to realize my Carl wasn’t the one, the other guy was younger, so we were free to go. What a start to the morning, eh? The excitement just kept on coming when we drove through town with names like Trout Creek, ( Montana ) , Houston (Texas ), Hudson Bay and Burns Lake. If we had a GPS, I’d say it might be broken because we never left British Columbia. The region we drove through today is rich in timber production while huge fields of hay, in various stages of growth or being baled, are on either side of us. Somewhere among the piles of useless trivia I’ve accumulated is the knowledge that Lawrence, Kansas is the geographical center of the contiguous United States and I can now file, in that same trivia drawer, Vanderhoof is the geographical center of British Columbia. Just thought you should know this. Carl pushes the driving today, in spite of only getting a few hours of sleep, getting us all the way from Prince Rupert to Prince George, 448 miles. He was pretty pleased with himself right up to the point where we pulled into the Wal-Mart in Prince George and see the sign, “No overnight camping”. Just three words but they sure had an impact on me. We wander into the store and head straight for the customer service desk where we are informed not to pay any attention to the sign, it’s fine to park in their lot. Oh and I can tell we’re in timber company in spite of driving by huge lumber yards filled with huge piles of logs and massive stockpiles of wrapped kiln dried lumber ready to be shipped. The moment I stepped from the truck, there was that unmistakable rotten egg smell we used to get in Whitefield when the paper mills in Berlin were operational. The photo was from last night's sunset. We didn't get any photos today, moving too fast!

"Leaving On A Jet Plane"

To paraphrase Peter, Paul and Mary, " All my bags are packed. I'm ready to go..." Tomorrow is the big day. We head for Boston by way of Concord to catch the bus. We'll stay one night in the big city of Boston ( no slander intended here. Whitefield is a population of 2,500 in the summer, 1,000 in the winter if you count dogs ) and then catch a 5:30AM plane out of Logan bound for the beautiful and sometimes very humid island of Tobago. It's only 11 degrees above the equator so I have packed my 300+ sunblock and every piece of clothing I can find that will just barely keep me covered and not once ounce of thread more than I need. Tobago is a deeply religious island and topless even if I was prone to that sort of thing IS NOT AN OPTION. We'll spend a wonderful week there, hunting for waterfalls, sunrises and sets and anything else that attracts my camera lens. That's the idea behind going there. And if you believe that one, I have some swamp land in FL I will sell you cheap. The truth of the matter is, it's a beautiful tropical paradise with bath water warm oceans to swim in, gorgeous scenery and an exchange rate to die for. One US dollar will get you $6.00 Tobagon. This is a place where gas is about $1.35 per gallon and you can buy a beer at a hotel bar for about $1.28. Of course the people who serve you that beer make about $80.00 per week. And Paradise wouldn't be worth going to if there wasn't some risk involved. They drive on the left, on roads that would make our cars groan and there is a very real threat of Malaria and Dengue Fever so along with the super sunblock, they recommend a bug repellent on steroids. One last thing about "Paradise", they let you in with no trouble at all, stay as long as you like but you must show a return ticket and when you leave you must pay a departure fee. In this case, its TT100 or about $16.00 US. I plan on posting every day with a new and even more beautiful photo than the last, but truthfully, I haven't a clue if they have internet there so I will post blogs when I can and date them when i wrote them and not when they actually got posted. We'll see you all at the end of May in North Conway for our first show of the season. It's going to be a good one, I can just tell.

Suitcases Dusted Off

With our departure on May 6th just around the corner, I felt compelled to give everyone in the house the illusion, at least, of my organizational and packing skills. The truth is, I am pretty near ready. I only have to charge all the batteries for my camera, pack the tripod and chargers, get the medications from the pharmacy, haul out the shorts, tee shirts and bathing suits, make sure our sneakers and sandals are in good order, pull together the laptop and card reader, make sure my husband's blazer, tie and my dress are clean, decide which earrings are going, remember to put any liquids and creams over a couple of ounces in the checked luggage, decide what goes in the carry on and last but not least, grab the passports and directions to the Wolf Sanctuary. Now, to some people, it may seem like a lot left to do, but the truth is, the suitcase is in the bedroom and every time I think of something that will be needed, I grab it and toss it in. We'll be a week in Tobago, a week in Florida and 4 days at sea. I plan on having quite a few photos of waterfalls, rain forests, sunrises and sets from Tobago. I am really hoping the wolves will cooperate in Naples, FL and all I really care about on the cruise is that my drinks are cold and my food is hot. I will be flexible with everything else. I do expect my yard to be in a much more photogenic condition when I return. For now, I have to be satisfied with another nice image of grape hyacinth.

Does This Happen To You?

Have you ever been chatting with friends when the conversation swings around to a question being asked such as " Did you see that sunset last night?" or "How about those northern lights last evening?" ? If you've been in a situation like this, no matter what the question was, you have to wonder about these friends of yours. Did any of them call you, knowing that sunset would have been picture perfect? Did just one of them give you a call or drop an e-mail to let you know about those spectacular lights in the night sky that you've been dying to capture for years? The answer is always "NO". This happens to me quite frequently. And each time I ask the inevitable, "So, why didn't you give me a call?" The answer is always inevitable, as well. They didn't think about it until long after. Then, I ask where their photos are of the event in question and again I get a predictable answer that they didn't have their camera handy. I'm not sure which causes more frustration for me, being told about that incredible event or not being able to confront the hard evidence. In any case, let this post be a wake up call to all of you out there. The next time you witness something breathtaking, call a friend or even me, whoever is closest so they can enjoy nature's spectacular variety. We'll be in Lincoln, NH this weekend for a two day event so come on by and see some of my latest work.

Rest And Relaxation

The northern route around the Big Island covers a great distance and encompasses scenery which ranges from beautiful black coastlines with white waves crashing against them to a barren dried up wasteland along the flanks of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea. Originally, our route was to take us up to the Waipi’o Valley and then to continue through the Parker Ranch and returning to Hilo by way of the Saddle Road, a windy narrow twisty path hastily installed in the shadow of the two great volcanoes by the military as a means of getting from one side of the island to the other quickly. We’ve driven this road before and there’s nothing quick about it. It’s a test of man and machine, of nerves and mechanics, and at the last minute Carl decided once was enough. So the route was re figured to take us to Kailua-Kona instead. By the way, Kona is the place made more or less famous by the Iron Man Triathlon, and is exactly opposite Hilo with more than one hundred miles between them. The long and pretty much straight road takes you through miles of nothing but lava and just when you think you’ve seen it all, there is more. Off in the distance, large fancy hotel complexes began to spring up, fancy to the tune of $400-$1,000 per night. We drove past these palaces and headed for the other side of town where the rents were a bit more reasonable. Carl had been driving for eight hours and we decided the Sheraton Keahou Resort was just fine. A light supper and an adult beverage was followed by observing a beautiful sunset from just beyond the pool and then we retired for the night. Only sunrises are possible from Hilo and up in Volcano, altitude 3,500 feet, there is usually clouds and evening rain.