Tag: AZ 89

Desert Dichotomy: Prickly Pear and Snow Peaks in the Weavers Picture of the Week - Congress, Arizona

Snow-capped peaks of the Weaver Mountains in the background with desert vegetation in the foreground on a sunny morning.
Desert Dichotomy: Prickly Pear and Snow Peaks in the Weavers – Early morning light bathes the Weaver Mountains, revealing a rare sight as winter’s frosty blanket contrasts sharply with the resilient desert flora of Arizona.

Greetings again from the heart of what’s suddenly become the Arctic Circle’s kissing cousin, our own Weaver’s Winter Wonderland. This week’s spotlight, Desert Dichotomy, is yet another snapshot from that astonishing February storm that dared to blanket the Weavers in snow. This time, I’ve dared to pair the icy peaks with the sopping-wet desert flora upfront, striking a contrast that even a snowbird might find chillingly beautiful.

It’s been a month heavy with winter portraits, an oddity for us desert dwellers, and an outright betrayal for the snowbirds who come here seeking sanctuary from their shovel-laden driveways. Bookmark your favorite image, friends, because the mercury is on an upward trajectory. Soon, as you fan yourself on a patio sweltering under a 115° sun, these images might be the only breeze you’ll feel. You’ll find larger copies on my website <Jim’s Page> and Fine Art Americas <FAA Link>.

Decisions, Decisions

There I was, knee-deep in mud, the cold nipping at my every extremity, and it hit me—I was actually having fun. A realization dawned, brighter than the sun glinting off the snow: Photography, with its promise of eternalizing a moment, is the lifeblood of my existence. It’s not the accolades or the Instagram likes; it’s the mud, the cold, and the hunt for the perfect shot.

Background and Evolution

In 2002, this website was a digital photo album devoid of captions, context, or care. As all things do, it evolved into a monthly newsletter recounting the high-stakes drama of our lives—Queen Anne and I versus the Wild. The Alaska expedition of 2016 demanded daily updates, transforming the newsletter into a casualty of efficiency. After returning to our home in Arizona, we switched to weekly posts, turning my Sunday mornings into a spirited race against my verbosity.

Feedback from you, dear readers, nudged me towards improvement. Books on writing, a thesaurus thick enough to serve as a murder weapon, online classes, and software soon became my weapons of choice in a battle against mediocrity. The downside? What once was a quick jaunt through my thoughts now takes days of meticulous crafting. In my quest to hone the written word, I nearly forgot the joy of wrestling with alligators—metaphorically speaking.

Frequency Insights

Buried in an internet rabbit hole, I unearthed a nugget of wisdom: The best newsletter frequency is once or twice a month. My inbox, swollen with the daily messages from overzealous websites, confirmed this truth. Too much of a good thing, and I’m out in the garage, hunting down the unsubscribe mallet.

Looking Ahead

Hence, we pivot. The weekly parade will cease, creating a monthly spectacle beginning in April. ‘The Picture of the Month’ will emerge, promising less inbox clutter and more breathing room for storytelling and photography. Imagine—more comprehensive tales, less repetition, and an inbox as unburdened as a desert sky.

Your seat on this journey is reserved; your input is invaluable. In the comments below, let us know your thoughts on our impending metamorphosis. With this shift on the horizon, we’re poised to dive deeper, travel further, and share the essence of our adventures with renewed vigor.

To more unhurried adventures and the promise of untold stories waiting just beyond the lens. Here’s to less time spent with the thesaurus and more pressing the shutter button.

Until our trails cross again;
jw

Kirkland Peak Picture of the Week

Our home in Congress is on a scenic byway. Each weekend, there are lines of exotic sports cars and motorcycles that pass by our trailer park to prove it. There are several roads— like AZ 89—in our state that offer motorsports enthusiasts a venue to stretch the legs of their beloved machines. I’m sure that the other states have roads like ours. I’m surprised that someone hasn’t compiled an encyclopedia of “The World’s Great Weekend Roadtrips.”

The route passing our home is known as the back road to Prescott because it avoids the weekend traffic on Interstate 17. It’s a longer drive, but that’s not the point. I think this passion is best described in Queen’s song; I’m in love with my car. “. . . get a grip on my boy-racer roll bar . . .” (Yes Virginia, Queen recorded songs other than Bohemian Rhapsody). It’s customary to play this anthem at full volume with the top down and the sun flickering through the pines on to your Ray-Bans.

There are actually two ways to get to Prescott from here. The first is to stay on ’89 and drive between the Sierra Prieta and Bradshaw Mountains. The motor-heads like this way because they get to test those big Brembo brakes on their Lamborghinis. This way is challenging to keep up with the speed limit, your up in the pines quicker, and the road dumps you onto Whisky Row, where everyone parks around the courthouse for an impromptu car show.

The second option is better if you’re towing a trailer, hauling a load of eggs from Costco, or you’re trying to keep Queen Anne from throwing up in your lap. To go this way, you turn off at Kirkland Junction and pick up Yavapai County Route 10—Iron Springs Road. This route is more docile, as you travel through Kirkland, Skull Valley, and Iron Springs, although it’s a bit trickier to find your way downtown once you get to Prescott.

Kirkland Peak - The run-off from the granite covered mountain has cut into a layer of limestone deposited on an old lake or sea bed.
Kirkland Peak – The run-off from the granite covered mountain has cut into a limestone layer deposited on an old lake or sea bed.

It’s on this second route that you’ll see the subject of this week’s featured image—Kirkland Peak. It will be the rocky mountain filling your windshield at the Kirkland stop sign. There’s even a better view if you drive straight and cross the tracks. But right now, we’re going to turn right onto Iron Springs Road toward Prescott because there’s something else I want you to see.

Soon after leaving the junction, CR 10 follows the railroad tracks and Skull Valley Wash filled with cottonwood trees. In this section—between Kirkland and Skull Valley—there is a cluster of limestone hoodoos where the granite top layer has been eroded. I’ve tried to photograph the outcrops on several occasions, but telephone lines and private property frustrated me. When I visited last week, a new mine has begun setting up operations, and they’ve scraped the land clean. There are two new five-story silos built beside the road, and I’m afraid that the remaining hoodoos will be gone shortly.

When I drove up to shoot Kirkland Peak this week, I was pleased to find a place where the mountain’s run-off has exposed more limestone, as seen in this week’s picture called Kirkland Peak. There are eons of geology exposed in this photo. The bottom layer is an ancient lake or sea bed, covered by granite (lava cooled slowly), and a mountain thrust above them. The evidence of up-thrust is in the grain of its rocks along the ridgeline (you can’t see that on your phone). As Kelly Bundy said, “The mind wobbles.”

You can see a larger version of Kirkland Peak on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, I’ll bring you another image from our corner of the world.

Until next time — jw