Angels come in many shapes and sizes...

I'm beginning to believe in miracles. I crossed fifteen miles of dirt road to the hogan where my new Navajo friend Vince lives during one of his seasons..

He and I piled in my car and drove down a number of dirt roads that finally led to a wire fence, where we parked. Gathering gear and water, we took off on the long hike to Los Gigantes Arch. Only after we had hiked around a big butte did I see the distant arch. Oh, boy. It was a long way, and it was hot and dry out there.

 

While I was taking a shot on a delayed timer, the camera fell off the lousy lightweight tripod I use on hikes and took Vince's picture as it fell.

 

 

When we had reached the base of the arches butte, the final section was a very steep scree with no path--just climb up the loose dirt and stones.

 

 

 

 Even I realized that it was a definite health risk for me to climb that final cliff at this altitude:

 

 

As I contemplated expiring on the slope, Vince said, "I've been watching you with the camera. Let me take it and get your pictures."

 

I hesitated. Three things could happen, and two of them were bad.

 

In the end, we did one last review of how to use my camera. Vince began climbing and I began praying.

 

Here's how the quickest student I ever had did:

 

 

Every shot he took came out perfect. He even knew I wanted him in a picture to show the arch's size, so he set the timer and ran out to be in the picture!

 

 

When he returned he told me that as a teen and young adult he had hunted out here, scrambling up hills like these easily. Then he admitted that it was a lot harder now.

 

We made the long trek back to the car. It is on the other side of that distant butte in the center of the picture.

 

 

My parting remark to my sheepherder friend Vince who has no Internet access in his life was, "I built an entire business just by finding men like you all over the world."

 

As I drove out through the buttes, I understood why the Navajo Code Talkers were heroes of World War II.

 

 

Vince called this morning to ask how his pictures came about. I awarded him a battlefield promotion to Professional Photographer. With oak leaf cluster.

 

Then he said, "Did you see that I shot a jetliner up in the sky through the arch?"

 

Sure enough. It's faint, but he got it dead center.

 

 

 

And now for the Lukachukai Mountains!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Driving Indian Route 12...

After yesterday, this was a day to avoid exertion.

I drove from Window Rock North on Indian Route 12, eventual destination a soothing lake with scattered campers and fishermen on the shore. A beautiful place to listen to music, read or just relax.

 

Along the drive going up to Wheat Field Lake I had noticed dozens of sandstone formations. The morning light was behind them, so I made a trip back in mid-afternoon. I have lots of panoramas to process, but I'm too wiped out to do a decent job on them.

 

Here are a couple of samples, this one on a curve in the road. It will be the left of a panel of three that I'll merge:

 

 

Here's the Great Eye of Sauron:

 

 

I think the Balrog is the one on the left.

 

That's it for today, a very successful haul. By the by, while I was taking that picture on the curve, the little Red Wagon with the flashing lights came screaming by.

 

Makes one think...

 

 

Fabulous, unspoled places...

There were certain targets I had seen doing my research, which were interesting enough to justify a lot of effort. Hope Arch, outside of Chinle, Arizona (site of Canyon de Chelly National Park) as well.  http://www.divexprt.com/HDRphotography/CanyonDeChelly/CanyonDeChelly.html

Hope Arch faces the morning Sun in a spectacular way:

It is easy to reach if you have accurate directions, which I found I didn't have. I wandered around in the desert for three days (well, seemed like) and there it was.

The best way to find Hope Arch is to spot the massive Edna's Needle from the road. The arch is the distance to Edna's again, and a bit to the right.

Hope is beautiful from any angle, including the West side:

That ramp is exceptionally tantalizing. In my case, I wanted to see the view from inside the Arch, looking southeast:

And southwest. Edna's Needle is telling me how to get back to my car.:

Having gotten my pictures, I started down like a happy teen-ager, until a ridge in the rock caught my foot. Ended up going down--head first. I remember seeing my Ipod flying through the air toward the rocks.

As I tell my friends, "All the wounds eventually heal, and you have the pictures."

I then wandered over to the Los Gigantes Buttes outside Round Rock. Eight miles across the desert, and:

Near Los Gigantes was another big butte whose name I have to find:

The clouds canceled my attempt to find Los Gigantes Arch. That cloudy sky bounces the sunlight around, and so is not good for the photographic effects I prefer.

Going North to a lake tomorrow if I can manage to climb out of bed.

More adventures!

Starting my Navajo adventure with a very loooong day...

The day started a 2:30 A.M. and is still rolling along at dinnertime.

But--I'm here!  I stopped at the center of the administrative center at Windows Rock, in the shadow of--Windows Rock!

It is a striking formation, but we have no accurate way to tell how big it actually is.

Wait! Up in the sky! My guardian angels, delivering a busload of high school students to climb it!

Much better! I'll get some desperately-needed sleep and be on the hunt for more targets tomorrow...

This adventure is completed!

My travels in Idaho and the Front Range of the Sierra Nevada are over (scroll down the page for the picture stories) and I'm now home facing what we call 'the Re-entry Problem.' Tons of spam and junk mail, re-stocking food--everybody knows the problem, it's universal.

 

But it does make one wish one were, as yesterday morning, about to drive up Mount Whitney in the Sierra Nevada. The campground near the top (to the right of Mt. Whitney, that high point on the left) is reached by driving up a long switchback road seen to the center right:

 

 

As we approach, the mountain range looms above us:

 

 

Then we roar (pardon me, slowly drive) up the first incline until we reach the big turn:

 

 

Up the southbound ramp to the final turn, where we face the towering peaks and prepare to enter the high forest.

 

 

This is a lovely spot, with a lively waterfall to provide background roar--er, music.

 

 

Unfortunately, my GoPro's battery died up there, so I didn't get the videos I wanted of the exciting ride down the mountain. I'll be back in September to hit it again.

 

Meanwhile, here's the view looking toward Lone Pine in the middle distance, with Death Valley beyond the far hills!

 

 

Home for three weeks before heading out again! Gotta get laundry done!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 4--Heh, heh...

In the end, it is true that everything comes to him who waits. Of course, I hate these trips where I have to shoot all of the good pictures in one day.

Today, I raced down to hang out with the swells at the Mammoth Mountain ski run: There are snow-covered mountains everywhere!

Enjoying the rare sunshine, I explored the lakes near Mammoth Mountain. Here is Twin Lakes, a short drive from the ski lift complex, with a nice waterfall flowing out of Lake Mamie in the far distance:

Here is the view looking back across Twin Lakes from that waterfall.

 That waterfall flows from a gorgeous lake, lined with snow-capped peaks--Lake Mamie.

 

Back on June Lake Loop near my cabin in the woods, Silver Lake is one of several we pass while driving along the June Lake Loop road:

 

 

For a change of pace, I went to the South end of Mono Lake where a large complex of mineral formations are known as the Tufa fields. There are hundreds of complexes, so I'll put a full treatment on the web site when I get home.

 

Here , a kayaker paddles on Mono Lake, looking at the formations as he passes them.

 

 

No more til I get home, but then I will have time to process some 13 Gigabytes of images and videos I shot on this glorious day.

 

Pulled out another one! The guardian angels get combat pay!

Sigh. It got even worse...

"No!" you might say. "How could it have gotten worse than Antarctica?"

How about a day of clouds and rain, with but a half-hour of any sunshine at all, even in fast-moving patches. I spent the half hour racing around, trying to take pictures while there was any chance of light on the subject.

 

There are lots of beautiful lakes here, all very close to where I'm staying--again, if only I could get good strong light on them. The mountains are majestic, especially with the freshly-fallen snow draping them and accentuating every crevice.

 

 I'm running out of days, so the next day and a half are the ball game. I desperately want lots of snow-capped pictures to compare with the Fall foliage when I visit in late September. Greedy? Perfectionist? Guilty on both, your Honor.

 

Imagine this shot from Aerie Crag under ideal conditions!:I saw it from a distance in full Sun, but by the time I could get here the !#!$!%!^! clouds had moved in.

 

Nature's colossal grandeur should make us be more understanding of our own insignificance. It's all about us--until you stand in a place like this and realize that we humans taken all together count for nothing when considered on a planetary scale: Where did we get such a high opinion of ourselves?

 

 

 

The morning will do what the morning does. The guardian angels have been struggling, but I persevere.  I have a list, if the weather will ease.

 

Wish me luck!