Home Away from Home

"Where's Papa?" Little Somana asked her mother. "He's gone to the river for water." She responds without looking up from repairing a basket. "When will he be back?" "I told you already, tomorrow. He and your uncle Hakataya went to the river with the large pots to fill." She responded still focused on her basket. "Maybe they'll bring back some rabbit to eat too. I'm getting tired of these dried beans." "Me too." Somana agreed. "Me too." Somana's little brother Moqui parroted. Somana and Moqui are the children of their Anasazi parents Lummis and Alisal. They are on a long trip from Chaco to Oraibi. "I miss him. He said he would fix my dolly." Somana held up her unraveling doll made from agave strands. "He will, he needs some pine pitch to repair it. I miss him too, honey." Lummis and his family started their trip just before the spring Equinox. The weather was still quite chilly when they left. Snow clung to the north side of the rocks, and it was still too early in the season to plant any crops. They were citizens of Chaco in what was one of the largest communities in the southwest. "I'm thirsty." Somana said. "Me too." Moqui squeaked. "We're almost out of water. We'll have to hike up the hill to see if there are any potholes with water left in them. We'll need some with dinner anyway." "Okay mama." "Bring that fabric swatch here and a bit of cornmeal." Somana took the fabric, cornmeal and her dolly. With Moqui in hand, Alisal began the difficult climb on the narrow path through large red sandstone scree. Huffing and puffing little Moqui tried keeping up. "Mama, carry me!" He cried. "Okay, baby." But you have to walk back I can't carry you and a pot of water. The ascent was steep. At the top of the canyon, the valley started opening up and the beaten trail leveled out a bit on to slick rock. Skirting the dry water fall they followed the wash up to the top and through the deep sand. After about a half an hour of walking through the dry juniper and scrub oak they returned to slick rock again. "Looks pretty dry up here." Alisal said while scanning the terrain dotted with small basins carved out of the rock over time.

 "Caw Caw." The raven standing over a small puddle drew Alisal's attention. "There! Thank you mister raven." She said. "Caw Gak." The raven replied, a little put off for being disturbed. He hopped a couple of times and retreated to a nearby boulder. "Tanks Mista Raben." Mimicked Moqui. Alisal put Moqui down and grabbed the peice of cloth from Somana. She dipped the cloth into the pothole and began wringing it out into the pot. She repeated this until the pot was full. "There. Now Somana and Moki, what do we do to say thank you?" "We give offering of cornmeal!" Samana declared. "That's right." Alisal took a pinch of meal and flung some into the water, and some toward the raven "And here's for you Mister Raven." "Caw." "Did I tell you the story of the Coyote and Raven?" "No
mama." "I'll tell you over dinner tonight."

The family began their decent back down to the round stone habitation snug in the arched cave high on the canyon wall. The light began to create long shadows on the surrounding cliffs. A few small puffy clouds hung low close to the distant spires. The harsh light slowly began softening. Alisal began to start a small fire, and put the small pot of water on it. "You hungry kids?" "Yeah." They said in unison. Alisal reached in to the cist and pulled out some beans. She then began to grind some corn meal on the metate. She put the dried beans in the pot, and with some ground pulp of prickly pear, thickened the corn meal into little patties, then cooked them on a slab of rock hanging over the fire. She served the beans on the little tortillas. "Now tell us the story of the Raven and the Coyote mama." "Okay, but then right to bed." The sunlight succumbed to dusk, and a cool breeze blew some sand and ash from the fire into a little dust devil. The fire light danced long shadows on the burnt sienna cave walls. "Many sunsets ago, at the edge of a canyon there was a large juniper tree. Under that tree there was much sand. It stood out in the open twisted and sunburned. One day a Coyote came by and heard a couple of Ravens singing and dancing under the tree. Each Raven had on his back a large black bag. He came up to them to watch and became interested. "Raven friends, what are you doing?" "Caw Caw, we are dancing with our mothers." "That's pretty, can I dance too?"

"Yes, but you have to go home and put your mother in a bag and come back to the dance." The coyote went running home and found his old mother sleeping by the fireplace. The young dumb coyote picked up a large stick and struck his mother in the head, and put her into a bag. He hurried back to the dance with her on his back. The Ravens were dancing happily singing: "Mama, mama I am shaking, shaking." The Coyote joined the dance and began singing along. Just then the Ravens began to laugh. "What did you bring in the bag you dumb Coyote?" The Ravens jabbed. "My Mother, just as you told me." The Coyote showed them. The Ravens emptied their bags full of nothing but sand, then flew high up into the tree laughing. The Coyote finally saw they had played a trick on him. He hurried home and returned his mother to rest next to the fireplace. "Mama mama, why wont you wake up?" The coyote cried. She could not, for she was dead from the blow to the head. When he realized she would not wake up ever again he vowed to follow the Ravens the rest of his life, and eat them all. From that day forward he will always be hunting them and always be at war." Moqui began to cry. "That's horrible mama. I will never put you in a bag." Somana said holding back her tears. "This is why you must not trust the Raven. They will play tricks on you and laugh at you high on the tree limb." Alisal warned. "Yeah but that raven showed us where the water was today." "I know, but he didn't want to share the water." She quipped. "The story tells not only why the coyote and the raven are enemies, but that how easily mean people can take advantage of the innocent. This is why we had to leave our home. The elders and elite have tricked us. They lead us to believe that if we gave up more of our crops and built more buildings for them, the gods would look favorably upon us. The Shaman's prayers and offerings have been made in vein. We did everything they asked of us, and yet the rains have not come. We gave all we had to the elders, and have not received anything they promised. Our crops yielded less and less, yet the elders asked for more and more. They sit in their houses, and stock pile food and goods. When it comes time for them to share, they don't distribute their wealth, but rather ask for more. When they don't get as much as they want, they just take it. They fooled us every time with promises they never keep. They don't understand it is unsustainable, because people like us will just leave. They will find out when everybody is gone."

"I miss home." Moqui squeaked, still teary eyed. "I do too, but your aunt and uncle will take us in. It will be our new home, with new kids to play with. It will be a place where everybody works to support their neighbour, and no one will come and take what we all worked hard for. Now go to bed." Alisal said while rolling out their small mats. "Cover up, it will be a cold night tonight." She said as she tucked them in. Soon they were fast asleep, Somana clutching her tattered doll.

Waterton and Water

 Waterton National Park, in Alberta Canada is part of Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park, a union of the Waterton Lakes National Park in Canada and the Glacier National Park in the United States, their union is a World Heritage Site, achieved through the efforts of Rotary International members from Alberta and Montana, on June 18, 1932. No doubt the park name was coined from a nice abundance of water. Landscape photography is always better with water, and Waterton does not disappoint.

We rolled in to the park rather in late afternoon from what was an entire day's driving from Glacier. Having done little research on the park we went to the visitor's center right away and asked what was available for camping. Being from the states we were accustomed to dispersed camping around the perimeter of the national parks. Canada was surprisingly a lot different. The don't have national forests, just provincial parks, and national parks. The surrounding property in Canada is privately owned, so free camping is not on the menu. The fees were a bit steep too. $25/day will get you a week in our national park, but only a day in theirs. It didn't take long to figure out that when entering a Canadian National park you pay for a day and stay a week. If you wanted to say longer, and pay for it you would have to leave the park and enter again to pay. There was little enforcement, and no easy way to pay for longer stays with out going through the entrance station again.

 The visitor center was accommodating, and helped us find a campground with empty spots by calling them directly for us. Tired from driving we retired to our campground; pamphlets and research material in hand. Pulling up to the kiosk, the teller was sweating profusely and complaining about the heatwave. We notice a flier on the bulletin board announcing a native indian dance presentation they were having at the campground that evening. The native Canadian tribes are referred to as "First Nation" people.

 They share similar cultural practices as their Native American counterparts. They even get a monthly stipend from the Government. The early elders negotiated a stately sum of $5 a month per person in return for their land. In the day it may have been nice, but the contract didn't make provisions for inflation. They still get their $5, but have to wait in line all day to get it, and as you know, can only get you a nice cup of coffee. Tres bien.

 The next day the weather returned to normal temperatures, and finally some clouds made their appearance. Our day was full of bear sightings and waterfall hikes. We caught a bear swimming in Waterton creek, another bear dining on a kill, and a mother with two little cubs. The great thing about Canada's parks; you can hike with your dogs. We took them up Lineham Creek to the main falls, and leisurely back down again, acutely aware of the extreme bear activity.

 We made as much noise as possible as we passed trees with deep claw marks, and took care not to step in large droppings. Our running joke was "Does a bear shit in the woods...." as we side-stepped large mounds. "No." They shit on the trail. We wrapped up the day in Waterton townsite, visiting the cute shops and coffee houses. Ducking the occasional cloudburst, we stocked up on provisions getting ready for our next foray to Banff.

Glacier II

 With my back up camera in hand I was happily able to continue shooting with my new lenses. I gave Kristi my old Canon P&S, which still takes really good landscapes.  I wouldn't have been totally out of commision, if I hadn't had a back up.  We stayed outside the park the night before, and we were both up early to get going.  Entering the Many Glaiers section of the park we were treated to the rising moon over Lake Sherburne.  I chose an infrared filter when processing this image to amplify the contrast of the moon on the bright blue sky behind.   


 We didn't get too much farther before the moon repositioned itself just over this tree in the valley with wild flowers.   It doesn't get much better than this, we pulled over immediately and got the shot.  

Just when I was rapping up, one of the cool busses that operate through out both Waterton and Glacier National Parks drove by.  They are old Ford busses that were originally built for the park, but recently resored by Ford Motor Company. They retrofitted them to run a more emission friendly propane.   Each passenger has thier own door, and the roof canopy rolls back to give passengers unobstucted views. 

Next up was Swiftcurrent Lake.  We arrived just in time for the first ferry to break the glassy water of the lake. I waited until I thought the ferry was out of view and the waves calmed down a bit to get this reflection shot. There was a nice water fall from off the dam that we hiked a short distance to get to.  There were bear and mountain lion sightings posted all around.  Our awareness was heightened in fear of discovering surprise wildlife.

Glacier was having a heat spell at the time, and was suffering from a high pressure system, so clouds were rare.  We wanted to hike around Swiftcurrent Lake and to some other lakes close by, so drove to the trailhead just up the road. Big horn sheep were rumored to be seen in the area, and we were on the look-out.  The dogs had to stay in the van, but before we left, we sprayed them down with the water spigot there in the parking lot.  We hiked along the chain of lakes and further up the creek.  With all the rapid run-off  the ground was squishy, and some drifts still lingered.  We decided to hike up another spur to get more photos of waterfalls, but soon came to a rushing creek with a washed out bridge. We had to retrace our steps and return the way we came.

Just before we hit Swiftcurrent Lake there was a rustling in the bushes.  I could hear people up the slope, and figured it was them. Then pow, before I could even raise my camera a big horn sheep crossed the trail, and disappeared into the thicket.  The people off the trail and up the hill were trying to get a shot of them, but failed too.  I was left with nothing but a blurred memory of a blond rump.  The last half mile we crossed Swiftcurrent creek and I grabbed a couple of photos of the creek and mountains. They were a bit unamazing, but with a little photoshop prowess, made for a nice couple of black & white infrared photos.

Glacier I

When visiting national parks sometimes doing a little bit of research is good for finding sunrise or sunset places. Sometimes not. When I did some internet research on Glacier National Park one of the recommended sunrise spots was St Mary Lake. I got up early, and found a spot on the shore and waited. And waited. The sun came up, left the lake in shadow, and there was only a small bit of light on the opposite hill across the shore. It was a bust.The real light was happening up the Going to the Sun road at Lyell pass. Lesson learned. The reality was there was very little going on in the sky, as there was a dominant high pressure system during the time I was there.

The light was harsh when we got to the top. I guess you just need to follow your instinct (and the light), and not be lead by what the internet says. Going to the Sun road was beautiful, waterfalls were flowing down every crevasse and canyon. We were treated to a rare experience at Lyell Pass.

When we got there we witnessed people grabbing their skis and snowboards, climbing up the side of the mountains and skiing down. This was June 24th. Glacier had received so much snow that year the pass had just opened the week before. Eight feet of snow still sat beside the parking lot, and the bathrooms were in operational. The park service had installed porto potties in the parking lot to accommodate. And me without my skis in the middle of June! We had our crampons though. We decided to hike to Hidden Lake, which was really hard to see. It was indeed hidden by ice and snow. We climbed the hill to the overlook and were surprised by some mountain goats.

 They were really tame, and started to hike with us. As we traversed the mountain and got to some green grass we left them behind to make the decent into the Hidden Lake basin. We never made it to the actual lake, as it was really bright and sunny. We were feeling a bit burnt on our eyeballs, and anticipating the long scramble up the snow back to the overlook.
Not wanting to pass up the snowplaying festivities, we decided to glissade back down the hill, being careful not to scoop snow with my shorts pant legs. Well turns out that last little bit was too much for my two month old camera lens.  It rattled the shims out of it and into the mirror box.  The next time I turned my camera on it quit. I removed the lens and discovered the parts inside.  With a week and a half still left on the trip, I was not happy.  Fortunately, I had my back- up camera with me and was still in the game.

Back of the Bow

Oxbow Bend in the Grand Teton National Park is one of those places that has been photographed time and again. Tour companies schedule delivery of hobbyist photographers each morning before sunrise to take the quintessential of all landscape shots. Those often photoed iconic shots are beautiful, that's why there is such a rush every morning. But getting those shots to be original is a daunting task. Once in a while it might just pay off to look around to what else might be worthy of a photograph. You might be able to get an original photo if you just turn around. The featured photograph today was one of those shots. While the hoards of photographers were snapping away at the bend, I saw some beautiful light just behind me. I did get some beautiful shots of Oxbow Bend. Don't get me wrong, I have no issue with having them in my portfolio. But being a little less myopic can sometimes produce equal rewards.

Spring has Sprung

The delicate leaves fresh and green. The buds on the trees. The happy chirping of birds engaged in mating and posturing. Fragrent flower petals bursting in color. Cold crisp mornings, and the fresh smell of the anticipation of summer is in the air. Somehow after even the mildest of winters the spring leaves look a little greener, the water a little clearer. Early enclaves of green fight to regain its hold amid the sea of brown and lifelessness. Spring has sprung.

Spring Snow in Sedona

"We haven't had this kind of snow in at least 7 years!" remarked a local Sedonaite during a conversation on the suprise snow storm on March 17th. Indeed. It was a bit of a surprise to me too. Kristi and I took the last couple of days of her spring break to explore a bit of unknown areas in and around Sedona, Arizona. We spent the first two days lingering around Oak Creek, and Sycamore Creek working our tans and throwing our dogs into large pools of water. Now we were deep into a wild moist spring storm. I had advance knowledge that we were expecting a storm, but according to NOAA's web site, we were only supposed to get 4 inches- in Flagstaff. Sedona rarely gets snow, so when it started raining late Saturday night I was hardly concerned. We could see the storm blowing in, but we had chosen a nice campsite 9 miles out on Forest Road 525, in a wind shadow of sorts. A huge fire, liquid libation, and dinner mixed with a day of hiking the ruins around Loy Canyon brought heavy sedation to the both of us. So when I awoke around midnight and heard some rain on the roof of the van we knew the storm was upon us. Sleep once again arrested my consciousness. I woke again early the next morning to extreme silence. Warm and cozy in our sleeping bags we were stirred by the dogs anxiously shaking, announcing their full bladders. Sliding the van door opened we began to fully grasp the gravity of the storm. There was 5 inches of snow on the ground, and after stepping out, two inches of mud below that. About 75 feet off the forest service road in an established campsite, we scratched our heads and wondered if we would ever get the van out, and whether or not we had cell phone coverage. Snow was still coming down, blizzard style. With out our habitual morning coffee or breakfast, we decided to leave- if we could. The van started with little issue, and I pulled forward to get a running start and promptly slid into a large bush. Now the wheels were spinning. Kristi started to stress, fearing the worst - A six mile hike to the highway in a snowstorm and a hefty towing bill. I got our spade out and cleared an area of snow around the van, then threw some rocks in with the mud. Rocking back & forth I freed the van, and trying to avoid a large pile of rocks promptly slid into another bush. We decided to spend some more time clearing the remaining 50 feet of snow off the ground all the way to the roadway. I instructed Kristi that she would need to push, since she was not willing to drive backward. I told her I would be pulling forward, then quickly backward to gain enough momentum to drive over the hole I had created with the spinning wheels.
She would need to push once I started backward. It worked, once I was free I gently feathered the accelerator then gunned it once I got momentum. I bumped over the ditch and slammed on the brake as soon as I hit the road. Since the road was on an incline, the rain water shed off, and all I had to deal with was 5 inches of snow. We slipped and slid through wet mud puddles and snow until we hit pavement on Boynton Canyon road. I began to breathe easier now that the threat of sliding into a ditch was less likely. After getting a bit of gas, we made our way to the freeway only to find that the Highway Patrol had closed it. They were making travelers exit, and blocking the entrance to prevent anyone from entering. Even though the van had no heat, we thought we would use the time to play tourist in the snow of Sedona. We drove around to the various sites, capturing the rarity. Getting cold, hungry and jonesing for some coffee, we decided to hang out at a local coffee shop until they opened the freeway. NOAA said the storm was to last until the next day, dumping even more snow in the meantime. We had our laptop, so we started looking at the internet and some prices of a room. Rooms in Sedona are ridiculous, maybe we'll just drive to Cottonwood, we thought. At about 11:30 we checked the Flagstaff paper online- the freeway was open. We took off, and immediately it began to snow even harder. Peering through small gaps between snow on the windshield we crept up the freeway to find a couple of tractor trailers parked side by side, and traffic behind them. Great, no heat and stuck on the freeway behind two trucks sliding backwards on a hill. Impatiently, one car was able to edge along side of them, then another and another. If I had any traction, I was going. We got around the trucks and slowly drove 25mph for the 45 miles home. White knuckles all the way.Believe it or not a 76 VW bus is great in the snow. It not only has high ground clearance, the engine is at the rear over the drive wheels. Backing up through mud and snow is a kin to a front wheeled drive car doing the same forward. Go VW! We got home to 18" of snow and another 8 fell over night.