Category: Yavapai

The Escalator Effect: Rock Formations in the Granite Dells Picture of the Week - Prescott, Ariozna

A golden stairway of rock formations ascending to a blue sky in the Granite Dells during sunset.
The Escalator Effect: Rock Formations in the Granite Dells – A natural escalator of golden rock formations, leading the eye toward the serene blue sky. A captivating example of the Dells’ rugged beauty captured at day’s end.

Thanks for tuning in to the third installment of my tromp through Prescott’s Granite Dells. We’ve moved to the park’s west side this week, north of Wilson Lake, where the trails are more challenging (physically and mentally) for an old coot like me. Despite the park departments placing white dots along the route as breadcrumbs, this Hansel managed to get lost three times. When I wasn’t lost, I scrambled over rocks and through thickets. To add to my misery, I started my hike in the afternoon, when the temperature was hot—even for Prescott.

Ah, the granite of Arizona, often found lounging in the sun, unbothered and with a certain rough charm. Unlike its posh cousin in Yosemite, it’s not entirely dressed to impress. While the Yosemite granite is a refined mix of quartz, feldspar, and biotite, giving it a smooth, elite look, Arizona’s granite is laid-back.

Arizona’s granite likes to hang out with some low-life friends, like mica and other composite minerals. It’s a mixed bag of characters not found in the high-end stuff. It’s a bit like the rebellious teenager of the geological world, not entirely fitting into the pristine and orderly world of Yosemite’s elite granite or New Hampshire’s distinguished, old-world charm.

Where other granites may be used for grand monuments or chic interior design, Arizona’s granite prefers the simpler life—gracing landscapes, lounging in gardens, or even being crushed into gravel for driveways. The added presence of mica gives it a bit of sparkle, but it’s more of a casual glint rather than a dazzling shimmer. It may not have the star power of its Yosemite counterpart, but it’s got character, grit, and a unique Southwestern flair that makes it stand out in its own right. And who doesn’t love a good underdog story? Especially one with a bit of sparkle!

When hunting down picture subjects, I look for unusual things that interest me. It may be a pattern, shape, texture, or something ordinary, but with exceptional lighting, photography loosely translates to ‘painting with light.’ But when I try to explain to others what I see in an image, my audience frequently gives strange looks, and they often raise their hands in defense before taking a step back for safety. For example, I was drawn to the inclining row of vertical rocks behind some horizontal slabs in this week’s image, titled The Escalator Effect: Rock Formations in the Granite Dells. My brain shouted, “Oooh! Oooh! Rock go up and down—rock go side to side.” That was enough encouragement for me to snap the shutter.

The composition still pleased me enough to process it this week, but as I worked on it, I began seeing things that could get me locked up. As I looked at the incline of vertical rocks, I wanted to push the right one over and watch the pile topple in a chain reaction—like a row of dominoes in a time-wasting but addictive video. Then, the rocks morphed into a flight of stairs or an escalator I wanted to climb. Then, to my horror, I saw the shape of a man covered in a leafy shadow blanket lying face-down at the foot of the stairs. Has he fallen? Is he injured? The city should put up handrails for us to hold onto. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

A singular rock, bathed in golden light, resembling a deflated beach ball or Yosemite's Half Dome, in the Granite Dells.
One Among Many: A Golden Hour in the Granite Dells – A unique rock formation stands out against a backdrop of green pines and blue sky, its golden hues reminiscent of a beach ball or Yosemite’s Half Dome, frozen in time.

This week’s second image—One Among Many: A Golden Hour in the Granite Dells—isn’t nearly as complex. It’s only a round rock that climbed on top of a larger one to catch the last rays of the evening sun. That’s all there is. There’s nothing more or nothing less—except perhaps it’s a flattened bowling ball, deflated beach ball, or it could be an off-scale model of Yosemite’s Half Dome. I’m not sure—maybe the hot sun is getting to me.

Thanks for stopping by this week. I hope this week’s image and exploration of the photographic eye have piqued your interest. The world is full of wonders waiting to be captured by your lens, even in the most unexpected places like Arizona’s rebellious granite. If you’re brave enough to examine the dead body in “The Escalator Effect” (if you can find it), you’ll find larger versions on my website (Jim’s Website) and my page on Fine Art America (FAA Page). Join me next week for my final Granite Dells photo story. I’ll be back if I don’t get caught up in a butterfly net before then!

Till next time
jw

Techniques: Developing Your Photographic Eye

Back in the stone age, when attending night classes at Pasadena’s ArtCenter College of Design, I befriended a fellow student who was an exceptional photographer. We’d brainstorm ideas about our weekly assignments, spend time in the darkroom together, and learn techniques from one another. Vince’s work made everyone’s jaw drop when we sat for our professor’s weekly critiques. The instructor would allot ample time to hold up the photos Vince turned in as a shining beacon to which the rest of the class should aspire. Then he’d critique my work with, “That’s nice too,” before moving on to the students who need more help. Vince had the eye.

Since then, I’ve been part of many discussions centered on talent—either you got it, or you don’t was the consensus. Talent is innate and can’t be learned—to which I say rubbish. Talent isn’t a binary thing like a light switch—on or off. Like most traits in life, it’s a continuum, a line that everyone fits on. It’s easy for a select few, but we must work harder to grow.

There are helpful rules in photography that you have to learn, like beginners practicing scales on a piano. We’ve previously touched on some of those rules in this forum: framing and composition, the rule of thirds, manipulating the light, and so on. Understanding and following these rules doesn’t make our work great. Early in our careers, we work hard to master the rules so they become intrinsic, and we stop thinking about them while we’re shooting—like the musician who doesn’t need to look at the piano keys to play a tune. It’s then that your mind begins to see beyond the obvious. Instead of asking, “What should this tune sound like?” you can ask, “What should this tune feel like?” When you don’t think about the rules and trust your imagination, your work speaks with your voice. So, when I hear someone say they don’t have talent, I don’t believe them. Everyone has some talent; they have to decide if they’re willing to do the extra work—is the trade-off worth it?

It all begins with observing the world and finding what speaks to you. Whether it’s the rebellious charm of Arizona’s granite, the unexpected formations that emerge in the sunlight, or the whimsical ideas that come to mind when a rock resembles a flattened bowling ball, your unique vision will set your work apart. So take your camera, wander the trails, get lost if you must, and let your imagination guide you. Embrace the unexpected, and you might discover the extraordinary in the ordinary. Keep pushing, keep experimenting, and never doubt your ability to see the world in a way that’s uniquely yours.

The Dells’ Drama: Light, Shadow, and Stone Picture of the Week - Prescott, Arizona

A sunlit canyon at Granite Dells with angular rock formations, highlighted by shadows and a blue sky backdrop.
The Dells’ Drama: Light, Shadow, and Stone – On the Constellation Trail at Granite Dells, angular lines of sunlit rock formations converge, telling tales of erosion and time. Amidst the rugged terrain, trees rise, contrasting against the textured granite, all under a vast blue Arizona sky.

Thanks for joining us on the Constellation Trail in the Granite Dells this morning. Of all the paths I’ve dared to tread, the Constellation Trail welcomes both the adventurous explorer and those of us who occasionally confuse a hiking boot with something you’d wear to a dinner party. Located off Arizona Route 89, it’s a sizeable, well-marked loop with several cross trails that make it easy to tailor your hike to your abilities. As you know, I’m not too fond of physical exercise, but I know that my best photos come from getting out of my truck, and once I’m out in nature, my senses become heightened. Last week’s photo showed an example of the views you can see along the trail’s high points, while this week, we explored the shadows on canyon walls where the trail cuts through the Dells’ ravines.

In the heart of the Granite Dells, life thrives against all odds. Amidst ancient boulders that are silent witnesses to millennia gone by, scrub oak and sumac tell a tale of nature’s indomitable spirit. They’ve evolved to survive and flourish, sipping sustenance from the unforgiving granite, striking poses of raw, untamed beauty against a backdrop that laughs in the face of gentleness. As the morning sun casts the canyon in a gentle glow, their silhouettes emerge sharper, paying tribute to nature’s ability to find pockets of life even in the most challenging environments.

Interestingly, the Granite Dells aren’t just a feast for the eyes but a geologic wonder. Estimated to be around 1.4 billion years old, these ancient formations are composed of a type of rock known as Precambrian granite. What you see on the surface only scratches the surface of their actual complexity. These stones have witnessed countless eras, weathered innumerable storms, and survived the ever-changing dance of geological forces. As a photographer, capturing these ageless guardians feels like stepping into a time machine, where every click of the shutter connects you with a history that transcends human comprehension. While the vibrant hues and shadows make for stunning imagery, the timeless wisdom in these stones adds an ineffable quality to the photographs. That’s the unseen charm of the Granite Dells, a joy that plays hide-and-seek with your senses and challenges you to see beyond the obvious.

The path lured me to a breathtaking cataract surrounded by boulders that must have been hand-placed by giants. Navigating through the canyon was as easy as following a breadcrumb trail—if the breadcrumbs were the size of small cars and strewn by a mythical creature with a flair for drama. Surprisingly, navigating through the canyon wasn’t challenging, thanks to the downward trail. I found the perfect vantage point on a ledge after clearing the gorge. From there, the sunlight playing on the rocks created an arresting visual that resembled a mighty fist. I had toyed with the title “Pow” but felt The Dells’ Drama: Light, Shadow, and Stone captured the essence far better.

I have posted two larger versions of this image for your enjoyment. The first is on my Website, of course, and you can see it by following this link (Jim’s Weblink); the other option is the page I made on my Fine Art America page, and the easiest way for you to get there is via this link (FAA link). Each click will transport you deeper into the heart of the Dells’ magic. Queen Anne and I want to thank you for stopping by this week. If we’ve piqued your interest, tune in next Sunday. We’ll uncover more mysteries of the trail, provided I don’t get lost or distracted by something shiny.

Till next time
jw

Technique: Saturation as a Photographer’s Opioid

In photography, playing with saturation is like walking a tightrope – thrilling, daring, and slightly less likely to end in a dramatic tumble. When applied with precision, it can elevate an image, adding depth and vibrancy. Yet, the temptation to overindulge can be difficult. Excessive saturation risks rendering photographs unnatural, pushing them into the realm of ‘Disney-chrome’—a world where colors are too intense to be accurate. This impacts the aesthetic appeal and can be problematic when printing. Over-saturated photos, significantly beyond a medium’s color gamut, lose their subtle gradations, often resulting in blotchy areas that mar the final product, like a print or book.

Hue and Saturation Pallet with this Photoshop tool, you can add saturation to a photo until it had day-glow colors, or you can remove the color to make the image pastel or even black and white.
Hue and Saturation Pallet With this Photoshop tool, you can add saturation to a photo until it has day-glow colors, or you can remove the color to make the image pastel or even black and white.

For the photography enthusiasts, here’s a peek behind the curtain: When tweaking the saturation in this week’s photograph, I worked with values that might seem conservative to some. The overall saturation was subtly lifted to a value of +5, while the green hues were enhanced a second time using a slider value of +10. These numbers aren’t pulled out of a magician’s hat but result from countless trials, errors, and what some might call an unhealthy obsession with color balance. Like a chef’s secret recipe, these values are part of what makes the image uniquely mine. Feel free to experiment with your concoctions, but remember: With great power (or slider control) comes great responsibility.

 

Awakening of the Granite Giants Picture of the Week

Golden morning light illuminating the rugged landscape of Granite Dells, with Glassford Summit in the background.
Awakening of the Granite Giants – A mesmerizing view of the Granite Dells under the soft glow of the morning sun, casting a beautiful light on the weather-worn rocks with Glassford Summit standing majestically in the distance.

My calendar page flipped to August this week, and that means that summer’s half over. In standard years, we would have been inundated with monsoon rains and antsy for the wet season to end. But, in this most unusual year, we’re waiting for the rains to start. We often see afternoon clouds here in Congress, Arizona, but they’ve only been a tease. The new month also means a new photo project, and I decided to stay in the high country—if you consider Prescott the highlands. We will wander the trails in the Granite Dells to capture its natural beauty and fill in my Website portfolio. The exposed cracked and worn boulders are common throughout Arizona, but this patch is the only city park.

The Granite Dells of Prescott, Arizona, is a geological wonder with around 1.4 billion years of history. Their formation began deep beneath the Earth’s surface, where molten magma slowly cooled and crystallized into hard, dense granite. Over hundreds of millions of years, erosion wore away the rock layers above, revealing the granite bedrock. Once exposed to the atmosphere, the granite underwent spheroidal weathering, a process that smoothed its corners and edges into the distinctive, boulder-like shapes we see today. This weathering, coupled with millions of years of further erosion, has sculpted the Granite Dells into their current, stunning form, with the boulders providing unique habitats for diverse flora and fauna.

Close-up study of Common Mullein stalks, brightly lit against a darker, out-of-focus background.
Majesty in the Ordinary – An intimate view of Common Mullein stalks bathed in the golden morning light, their unexpected elegance highlighted against the darker foliage of the Granite Dells.

We will start this month’s photo tour of the Dells with a long shot I took at dawn while hiking the Constellation Trail. At that hour of the morning, I thought I’d have the place to myself, but the parking lot was half full when I arrived, and true to form, I was in everybody’s way as I trudged along with my camera. I was in the middle of the loop when the sun emerged above the cloud layer along the horizon, casting a golden light on the rock formation before me. I can’t begin to tell you how delighted I was to see how it showed off the rounded shape and texture of the granite boulders. The Dells have a sense of anchor in their surroundings with the radio-tower-topped Glassford Summit. I call this week’s image Awakening of the Granite Giants.

We’re so glad that you joined us on the trail this morning. Throughout the rest of the month, we’ll share more images taken on tracks running through Prescott’s most significant city park. And you can count on us to dig up more interesting trivia about the Granite Dells. If you’d like to examine larger versions of Awakening of the Granite Giants, you can visit its page on my Website by following this link (Jim’s Website). You can also pixel peep on my Fine Art America posting by following this link (FAA Post). Be sure to return next week when we present another image of the intriguing Granite Dells.

Till next time
jw

Techniques: Restoring Dark Areas In Back Lit Images

In last week’s session, I showed how I manage shots to prevent blowing out the highlights when shooting in lighting conditions too broad for the camera’s sensor to capture—like the dawn, dusk, or back-lit situations. We concluded that discussion by predicting that the darker areas would be too dark to be pleasing. In this post, I will explain how I balance the exposure in Photoshop so the image looks natural.

Quick Selection Tool - I use this tool in the Tool Palate to select the areas that I want to work. It's the fastest and most accurate selection tool in Photoshop.
Quick Selection Tool – I use this tool in the Tool Palette to select the areas I want to work on. It’s the fastest and most accurate selection tool in Photoshop.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has recently been in the news, with stories ranging from how it helps doctors find cancer in patients earlier to how it will eventually eat our brains—like Zombies. Well, Adobe has an AI-driven tool in Photoshop that enables you to select complex areas of your images. It’s called the Quick Select Tool. It seems to be mainly used to cut models—and their fly-away hair—from one background so they can be pasted into another. I use it to select the dark areas in my landscapes that need lightening. My process involves three steps: Selecting, Refining, and Correcting.

Refine Selection Workspace - With this tool, you can nudge and perfect which areas you want to be active within your adjustment layer.
Masking Workspace – With this tool, you can nudge and perfect which areas you want to be active within your adjustment layer.

After doing my color corrections and setting my Black and White points in my workflow, I try to balance my image’s exposure. Using the Quick Select (QS) Tool, I roughly select the area I want to work with, and that’s usually everything below the horizon. At this point, I’m not trying to be precise. After I drag the QS brush over the area I want to modify, I click on the Select and Mask button at the top of the workspace, which opens a Masking Workspace showing the selected areas of the image. I use a red mask set to 40% opacity to see which areas of the image will be affected by the following steps. Within the right panel, there’s a bunch of number settings that I’ve fiddled with over the years before settling on these: Radius=0, Smooth=2, Feather=2.5px, Contrast=25%, and Shift Edge=-2% (be sure to check the tiny little box tabled ‘Remember Settings‘ otherwise you’ll constantly have to reset these values). Using these values, I choose the Brush Edge Tool—the second from the top in the brush palate—and run it along the edge of the selected areas. What the AI does for me is pick out all of the little trees and other objects (like the leaves in the second photo this week) and separate them from the sky—an otherwise impossible task. Once I’m happy with the selection, I click ‘OK,’ the screen returns to the original workspace with the selected area now outlined with ‘dancing ants’—a term used to describe the animated dotted line showing the selection.

The next step is to correct for the darkness, and to do that, I choose a new Exposure layer from the list, which opens with the new mask in place. In the new layer, I use the slider to adjust the area to the lightness that looks good to me—usually between ¼ to a complete stop (.25-1.0), but with the sensor on my Sony camera, I’ve been able to lighten the dark areas by 2½ stops without causing a loss of detail in shadows or other unwanted digital artifacts (such as pixelation or banding).

Remember, by working with layers, you can go back and change your adjustments later. Also, remember to save your work frequently, especially after making significant adjustments.

Lomaki Crater Picture of the Week

Lomaki Crater - When viewed from the far side, Lomaki's tall walls appear like the craters that surround the national monument.
Lomaki Crater – When viewed from the far side, Lomaki’s tall walls appear like the craters surrounding the national monument.

How did your Turkey Day go? I can see your eyes struggling to read these words, so at least you’ve come out of the tryptophan coma and gotten off the couch. That’s good. At least you didn’t turn into that weird uncle that kids are complaining about these days—or did you?

Hassayampa Inn - The four story red-brick hotel was opened in 1927 and is one of the State's historic inns.
Hassayampa Inn – The four-story red-brick hotel was opened in 1927 and is one of the State’s historic inns.

Queen Anne and I skipped our usual Denney’s Thanksgiving Day dinner. Instead, we drove up to Prescott and spent the night at the Hassayampa Inn. Since I’m a history freak, we thought it would be cool to dine at the historic hotel and stay for the night. The red brick hotel is far more charming inside than its block exterior suggests. Art Deco, Spanish Revival, and Territorial styles are all mashed together. Except for the scruffy Romanian bartender, I don’t believe anyone on the staff is over 30. They were so bright-eyed, cheerful, and eager to help that it was depressing.

Dinner—well, lunch, really—was uninspired. The special was a half of a Cornish Game Hen oven-roasted turkey style on a plate with a round lump of stuffing, another lump of mashed potatoes, and green beans. My favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner is gravy. Everything else on the plate supports the gravy, so we had to ask for more on the side. For dessert, the chef managed to duplicate a childhood recipe. My first bite of his apple pie brought a flood of memories of eating a Hostess fruit pie at the Circle K. The biggest sin of dinner was the omission of cranberry sauce molded in the shape of a can. An order of Buffalo wings would have been more satisfying.

With that aside, we had a great time in Prescott. We drank wine beside the lobby fireplace, snuck into room 426—where Faith, the ghost lives, walked around the town square, and ended the night by closing a karaoke bar. It’s not what you think; we literally got the bar shut down. We were in the middle of our version of I Got You Babe, when the health inspector bust through the door. He was there because of multiple complaints of howling dogs as far as three miles away. “That singing is not fit for human consumption,” he yelled to the bouncer. Then he took our mikes and told us to return to the hotel and stay in our room. He then padlocked the place until they got more safety training. I was devastated because Anne does a great Sonny Bono when she gets near the right key.

Enough of that; let’s talk about what you came for; this week’s picture. I call the image Lomaki Crater; it’s the last in our series from Wupatki National Monument. I took it on the far side of the pueblo ruin photo from a couple of weeks ago. With a bit of imagination, the tall wall corner resembles a crater like the ones we shot on our visit. There’s even a puff of smoke coming out of the cauldron. The bare walls are a mix of local limestone and Coconino sandstone. When they were built around 1100, they were most likely covered with plaster like the ruins in Walnut Canyon.

You can see a larger version of Lomaki Crater on its Webpage by clicking here. Next week, we start our final project of the year, and even I don’t know what it will be. So, when you come back next week, we’ll both be surprised at what I come up with. I’ll see you then.

Till next time
Jw

BTW:

No dogs were hurt in the making of this article, just my feelings.

Five Cairns Picture of the Week

If you’ve ever hiked a backcountry trail, you know about cairns. They’re the road signs hikers use to stay on track. They’re simply piles of rocks high enough to be seen and reassure travelers that they’re following the right path. According to Wikipedia, cairns have been around throughout time all around the world.

I don’t know who has the time to build and maintain these stone piles, so I’ve concluded that it must be the Pixies. If you think about it, who else has the skills to precariously balance rocks on top of one another that magically survive wind and rainstorms? You never see humans stopping to build them. Yeah, it’s definitely the Pixies.

The markers confirm the obvious on some trails—like this month’s hike up the Little Granite Peak trail. The steep climb from the parking area to the first flat was like tromping through a rain gutter. Runoff and traffic have carved a trough that’s easy to follow. On the other hand, where trails traverse slick rock areas, cairns will reliably mark the easiest path. When I hiked to Coyote Gulch in Utah, there were long sections of trail where I had to stop at one of the cairns and look for the next one before I went any further. Later I found that the markers kept me from having to scramble down treacherous cliffs.

Another time that I remember cairns saving my butt was on the outing to Cedar Mesa. While Queen Anne waited in the truck, I hiked down into Cigarette Canyon to get this shot of Fallen Roof Ruin. She insisted that I leave the keys with her. After reaching the canyon bottom, I only had to trudge a mile before I spotted the ruin nesting high in the cliffs. Paying no attention to my route, I scrambled up the smooth sandstone wall with my camera and tripod.

Fallen Roof Ruin - Built high above a canyon floor, these ruins were a strenuous hike to get to, but a treacherous path down.
Fallen Roof Ruin – Built high above a canyon floor, these ruins were a strenuous hike to get to but a treacherous path down.

After getting my shot, I started my descent, but what I saw scared me. It was one of those steep hills where you could only see the first few feet before the ground plunged out of sight—like the first hill of a roller coaster. I had visions of rescuers finding my skeletal remains among the ruins because I became trapped there. Anne would surely get bored and drive off, leaving me to rot alone. But as I searched for a way down, I spotted a pile of rocks to one side, so I headed toward them. From there, I saw more cairns that made a zigzag pattern down to the bottom. Thank God I didn’t have to make Anne put down her book and get out of the truck to find me.

Five Cairns - This little cairn didn't like the way you looked at her, this little cairn didn't like the way you spoke to her, this little cairn hated the way you bumped into her, this little cairn thought you smelled, and this little cairn went "wee, wee, wee," all the way to the police station.
Five Cairns – This little cairn didn’t like the way you looked at her, this little cairn didn’t like the way you spoke to her, this little cairn hated the way you bumped into her, this little cairn thought you smelled, and this little cairn went “wee, wee, wee,” all the way to the police station.

So, imagine my smile when I reached the first intersection on the Little Granite Mountain trail and saw five miniature cairns lined up on top of a boulder the size of a small Toyota. This spot must be where the fairies had a picnic. It was off the path behind some bushes, so these weren’t actual trail markers. They were left by the little people having some mischievous fun.

You can see a larger version of Five Cairns on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, we start a new project, so come back and see where the road leads us.

Until next time — jw

Sierra Prieta Afternoon Picture of the Week

I broke down and bought one of those dorky bicycle helmets. Not the pink and white one that Anne picked out. She only liked it because it came with a Hello Kitty backpack, ideal for carrying my Capri Sun juice boxes. Mine’s bright silver with a black visor, and when I wear it, I look like the cartoon character in Pearls Before Swine—Jeff the Cyclist. Women swoon when I ride by.

I didn’t buy a helmet as a riding accouterment; it was a practical choice. A couple of weeks ago, I fell off my bike and landed on my head in a neighbor’s front yard. Don’t worry, nary a scratch, so I got up and finished my ride, but I was all over Amazon the minute I got home.

The bike was an innocent bystander in the crash; the real culprit was my balance. I’ve had dizzy spells recently. They’re caused by the microscopic sand particles in my inner ear balance thingy—the vestibular system. Some of the particles in my ear have escaped, and when I tilt my head, they brush hairs and set off dizzy spells—vertigo.

As I was climbing the hill on my morning route, I looked down at the chain to see which gear I was in, and when I looked back up, my head started spinning. The spells usually only last a short time, so that I thought I could power through, but the bike kept drifting toward the left curb, and I couldn’t control the steering, so I stopped to get off. If I get dizzy at home, all I need is to touch a wall for balance. There was no wall in the street. I was on my way to the ground before I knew it. I landed on my back, and I pounded the gravel with the back of my head. I sat up and checked for anything broken or bleeding. Then, I glanced around to ensure that no one had seen me before continuing my ride when I found none.

I’ve already seen my doctor, and she gave me exercises to round up those little buggers, so I’m doing better. There are a few recalcitrant grains that still run loose in my ear, but we’ll get them back in their cage eventually.

The dizziness was a concern on this month’s hike, but I wasn’t affected on the trail. I guess that the strenuous exercise kept it at bay, but I touched every boulder and tree along the way to be safe. When I reached the top, I was rewarded with views like in this week’s image.

Sierra Prieta Afternoon - From the top of Little Granite Mountain Trail you can see south all of the way to the Weaver Mountains.
Sierra Prieta Afternoon – From the top of Little Granite Mountain Trail, you can see south all of the way to the Weaver Mountains.

I call this picture Sierra Prieta Afternoon, and in it, you’re looking south from the hilltop. Beyond the eroded granite boulders, there are three mountain ranges. The closest peaks—the ones with color—are the Sierra Prieta. The next range—the one that has the large rounded peak—is the mountains around Kirkland and Skull Valley. Finally, along the horizon on the left-center is a glimpse of the Weavers. Our home is down on the desert floor on their far side—four thousand feet below the point I was standing.

Click here to see a larger version of Sierra Prieta Afternoon on its website. Next week, I’ll finish with a whimsical thing I found on the Little Granite Mountain Trail, so be sure to return.

Until next time — jw

Prescott Basin Picture of the Week

There’s a growing trend in the comedy routines that Queen Anne and I watch on YouTube’s Dry Bar channel. The bits poke fun at young people for not knowing about obsolete things my generation regularly used. I’m not sure if the joke is at the youth’s expense or if it’s simply us old farts complaining about change again.

To give you an example, one performer asked a teen in the audience to explain the relationship between a pencil and a cassette tape (the kid didn’t know what the tape was). Another was about the phone books we used to get each year. The fact that we had to look numbers up on our own was mind-boggling enough, but they couldn’t comprehend that the books were primarily used at grandma’s house as a booster seat. Finally, hold up a 10’ curly phone cord and ask a young person why it existed.

I uncovered another lost phone tradition this week after talking to a particularly annoying salesman. It’s known as the old 40mph-hangup. I learned it from my dad back in the age of unenlightenment. It has Zen-like qualities and resembles a marshal-arts move, but it more closely mimics the grace of a baseball pitch. I’ll try my best to describe it. After you’ve had your fill with the person at the other end of the line, you scream a final taunt—after all, you must have the last word—then as you lift your left leg, you begin to swing your right arm in a full roundhouse motion and slam the handset onto the cradle. It should bounce at least once. I saw my father shatter an old black Bakelite phone we were renting from Ma Bell. Although this hang-up never accomplished anything productive, it always put a satisfying exclamation point on your lunacy.

With remote handsets these days, they took away that small joy of life. No matter how hard you mash the End button, it’s silent. Your adversary doesn’t know if you hung up or the phone dropped the connection. I don’t own a smartphone, but vigorously swiping at the screen can’t be any better. Maybe someone could write an app that plays a recording of a loud car crash before disconnecting. That would come close. Kids don’t know what they’re missing.

Now we have to find another channel to drain all that excess adrenalin. I could have run up and down the Little Granite Mountain Trail a couple of times with that pent-up anger. I wouldn’t have even broken into a sweat by the time I reached upper flats. Instead, I had to stop constantly until the pounding in my ears subsided.

Prescott Basin - You can see miles in any direction from the flats on the Little Granite Mountain Trail, like this view of Prescott to the east.
Prescott Basin – You can see miles in any direction from the flats on the Little Granite Mountain Trail, like this view of Prescott to the east.

It was at one of those rest stops that I got this week’s featured image. Close to the trail’s top, it begins to flatten, and you can finally see above the trees. After I passed this Alligator Juniper, I stopped for a rest. Here, I could see Prescott in the distance below, so I couldn’t resist snapping a photo. The view was hazy from the humidity, so I’m sure it would be spectacular on a clear winter afternoon. I call this photo Prescott Basin. I hope you enjoy seeing it.

You can see a larger version of Prescott Basin on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, we’ll walk around and take in more views from the top of the trail, so I hope to see you then.

Until next time — jw