Tag: road trip

Saddle Mountain Picture of the Week

I have mixed feelings about this week’s landmark that depend on which side I see it from. Saddle Mountain is located on the south side of Interstate 10 at Tonopah. When I used to ride the shuttle vans to the Wintersburg power plant, seeing the mountain meant that I had to wake up and go to work. But, whenever we returned from an extended California trip, I was always on the lookout for that distinctive saddle. When it came into view, it meant that we’d crossed into Maricopa County, and we were almost home. Phoenix was still an hour away, but at least we were on home turf.

Saddle Mountain is easiest to recognize when traveling east on the freeway. It’s the big birthday cake that a telephone pole fell on. It’s the dent in the middle that describes it, although you’d have to have pretty long legs to ride it. As you get closer, you’ll see many blocks and spires rising from its base. It has a lot of the same characteristics as the Superstition Mountains east of Phoenix. It’s said that the Flatiron face of the Superstitions is an ancient volcanic plug. On the other hand, Saddle Mountain—like its neighboring ranges—was formed by our old friends, rhyolite and tuff.

Being a couple of miles outside of Tonopah, it’s an easy place to get to. It’s not a wilderness area, so dirt roads are crisscrossing the surrounding land. In winter, snow-birds frequently dry camp in the flats. Signs say that the camping limit is 10 days, but I wonder if anyone enforces that.

Saddle Mountain - Blocks and spires adorn Saddle Mountain's north face.
Saddle Mountain – Blocks and spires adorn Saddle Mountain’s north face.

I’ve tried to photograph the mountain several times, but I never came away satisfied. It’s one of those places where you want to get in close to show the details, but you lose its distinctive overall shape when you do. This week’s featured image is an example of what I mean. I wanted to show the blocks and spires that adorn the mountain’s north face, but the saddle’s trough was hidden behind the ridge when I did. I’m pleased with this image, but there’s so much more to shoot that it frustrates me. Perhaps Queen Anne and I could drag the trailer down there for a camping trip later this spring.

You can see a larger version of Saddle Mountain on its Web Page by clicking here. Come back next week when we present our final December landmark. Both Queen Anne and I are wishing you a happy and safe holiday season.

 

Until next time — jw

Courthouse Rock Picture of the Week

After five years of retirement, I realize I slowly get things done by putzing. As I grow older, I don’t have a young person’s stamina, so I limit how much time I work in my shop or office. I am organized about it. I have certain days that I do things. There’s wood-Monday where I work in the shop; music is when I manage my music catalog; web- Saturday is when I update my website; and today—blog- Sunday—I write my posts. Each week’s highlight is dump-Thursday when Queen Anne rewards me for taking out the trash by treating me to Eggs Benedict at Nichols.

The remaining days are our weekend. Like the rest of America, we go shopping, on photo outings, visit our ever-growing list of doctors, and do chores around the house—if I must. I can also appropriate these days if I need more time for another priority. So, I’ve organized my interests into neat little day-packets. That way, I get to play with all of my toys. That’s important because if I don’t use them, Anne has threatened to haul them off to Goodwill. My system keeps me busy, yet there’s plenty of time for naps.

Imagine how frustrated I get when a week—like this one—comes along and upsets my routine. With this month’s I-10 project, I must go out each week to get a new shot. I planned to go out on Tuesday, but afternoon clouds moved in. Wednesday, it rained, so I swapped it with music Friday because Anne wasn’t here to gripe. The clouds remained on Thursday, but that didn’t stop me from going to the dump and buying my breakfast (there was hell to pay when the restaurant staff wanted to know what I’d done to Anne). Friday was still dull and gray, and I’d already done music Friday on Tuesday, so I had to sit on my hands. I needed a picture for Saturday’s update.

Yesterday, I set the alarm for 5:00 a.m. and drove down to Courthouse Rock in the dark. I repeated a mantra as I went, “Please let there be good light. Please let there be good light.” When I arrived, I was rewarded with high clouds, but the eastern horizon was clear. I only had about an hour to shoot as clouds were already gathering. This is the shot that I liked the best; I call it Courthouse Rock.

Courthouse Rock - Located in the north-east corner of the Eagletail Mountains Wilderness Area, Courthouse attracts rock climbers across the globe.
Courthouse Rock – Located in the northeast corner of the Eagletail Mountains Wilderness Area, the Courthouse attracts rock climbers across the globe.

The rock is the northeast corner of the Eagletail Mountains Wilderness west of Tonopah. You can see it on the south side of Interstate 10, less than a half-hour drive from the truck stop. If you take the dirt roads—as I did—the time doubles. The road in the lower right section of the photo gets closer, but I was running out of the golden light. I was still a mile away from the rock when I took this photo.

Courthouse Rock is well known to rock climbers, so it gets a lot of worldly visitors. As I left, at least a half-dozen SUVs loaded with people were on their way to the Courthouse. The vertical wall that looks like a curl from a Dairy Queen machine presents a challenge similar to Yosemite’s El Capitan. Besides the height, the most remarkable difference is that California’s is granite (lava that cools slowly underground). At the same time, ours is Rhyolite (thick air-cooled lava squirted out of an ice cream machine).

You can see a larger version of Courthouse Rock on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, I’ll present another of my favorite I-10 landmarks. Because it’s sunny and clear today, I’m going out to shoot it this afternoon—none of this last-minute panic for me. Of course, it will have to wait until after my nap.

Until next time — jw

Big Horn Tank Picture of the Week

We’re down to the final month of this gawd awful year. For one, I will be happy to get my vaccination and venture back out into the world again—well, right after you get yours, and I see that you don’t get sick and die from it. I’m afraid that it’ll be months before it’s my turn because I’m too young and pretty. So, because it’s a short month, and Queen Anne has abandoned me, we’re going to explore a road that’s both close by but too expansive to cover in one day.

This month’s focus will be on a road, unlike what we’ve covered on this platform before. It’s not even dirt. It’s a road that stretches from Jacksonville, Florida to Santa Monica, California. It’s also the longest possible way to cross Texas. When Anne and I visited Deb and Fred in Austin several years ago, I was dismayed to see a highway sign that said our destination was further off than the two states through which we’d already driven. I’m, of course, talking about Interstate 10.

Calm down, we’re not going to do the whole thing in one month, and I’m not ready for a lifetime commitment (ask Anne). For December, we’re going to point out the landmarks that I enjoy seeing between Phoenix and the Colorado River. Even with that limitation, there are too many to fit into four Sundays. We’re not even heading in a particular direction; we’ll talk about each place as I get to it.

If you’re like me, you loath driving cross country on the Interstates, but they are the most efficient route when your time is limited. I’ve made countless trips between Los Angeles and Phoenix since moving here a half-century ago, and the flat desert always was the worst grind—river, flat, mountain, flat, mountain, flat, town. After I learned some about the mountain ranges, it was more enjoyable to know that Courthouse Rock was coming up on the south side or that I could spot the abandoned solar observatory on top of Harquahala Mountain. It was like saying, “Hi” to old friends as we passed.

This week’s featured image was taken in the Tonopah area. From east to west, you’ll pass the Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station, stop at Tonopah Joe’s for gas and heartburn, then on the north side of the highway—where Salome Road crosses—there’s a prominent horn mountain, called Big Horn Mountain. It’s the centerpiece of a wilderness area that’s the same name. Actually, there are two wilderness areas separated by a dirt road that I’ve yet to discover. These are the Big Horn Mountains Wilderness and the Hummingbird Springs Wilderness across the street. You can do backflips across the road from one to the other.

On the plains south of Big Horn Mountain Wilderness Area, is a rusty tank meant to provide water to cattle on the open range.
Big Horn Tank – On the plains south of Big Horn Mountain Wilderness Area is a rusty tank meant to provide water to cattle on the open range.

This week’s featured image that I called Big Horn Tank was taken from the Harquahala Plain off of the Salome Road. There on the open range, I found a rusty water tank for an interesting foreground. I think that rust is a photographer’s favorite color, and I like how the white PVC pipe accents the tank. The other thing I see is how little vegetation cattle have for grazing. They don’t eat creosote (would you), so they only munch on the yellow grass.

You can see a larger version of Big Horn Tank on its Web Page by clicking here. Be sure to come back next week for another roadside landmark from Interstate 10. Tomorrow, I have to phone the Queen to see where I’m allowed to go. Wait till I tell her what happened to me as I was leaving Algodones yesterday—she’ll never let me out of the house again.

Until next time — jw

Fish-Hook Barrel Cactus Picture of the Week

When you hear someone talk about a desert, what image pops into your mind? Is it the endless Sahara dunes where Bedouins in keffiyeh headdress travel by camels? Maybe it’s the barren, dry lakes of Death Valley, or perhaps your go-to desert is in Mongolia. By definition, a desert is any place receiving less than 20 inches of annual precipitation. That makes most of the Great Plains, most of Southern California, and the Antarctic deserts.

My desert is the one that I’ve called home for almost 50 years; the Sonoran Desert. In the last half-century, I’ve traveled most of its parts within Arizona and California. I can attest that it’s not a flat, uniform wasteland—as some people think. It has mountains, canyons, plains, dry washes, and an exotic river or two. Its span ranges between Arizona and the Mexican State of Sonora. If you see a map of it (and you have to squint real hard), it’s jellyfish shaped—starting at the north (where I live), the half-circle body covers Arizona, and the tentacles reach south to either side of the Sea of Cortez. Its width covers from El Centro to Tucson.

The signpost that says, “This is the Sonoran Desert,” is the saguaro cactus. It thrives here because of the four major western deserts; the Sonoran is the only one with two rainy seasons; winter rains and summer monsoons. In winter, the rains nourish the cactus to flower and bloom, while the monsoons provide water for the dispersed seeds to germinate. Isn’t nature swell?

Although the saguaro may be the Sonora’s big-ticket item, it isn’t the only thing here to see. That’s evident when you visit the desert’s reserves like Saguaro National Park, Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, KOFA Wildlife Preserve, or several wilderness areas in southern Arizona. The biodiversity of these places will keep you on your toes—“Watch out! There’s a snake over there.”

Fish-hook Barrel Cactus - a couple of succulents nuzzle in the late afternoon sun.
Fish-hook Barrel Cactus – a couple of succulents nuzzle in the late afternoon sun.

That’s how I thought I’d end our one-day tour of Saguaro National Park. While exploring the park’s dirt road loop, I spotted a couple of succulents nuzzling one another, so I went in and grabbed a shot. I call this picture Fish-hook Barrel Cactus. It shows a couple of common cacti—a fish-hook barrel and prickly pear—glowing in the evening sun. The barrel cactus is the one you’re supposed to cut open if you need water—it’s not hollow, so you have to wring the pulp if you’re desperate for a bad tasting drink. Prickly Pear grows everywhere and has even overrun Australia after it was illegally transplanted there.

You can see a larger version of Fish-hook on its Web Page by clicking here. For December, we have an idea for a completely different type of monthly project. We had to. I’ll be spending time with my Mexican dentist—oh joy—and Anne is risking her life to visit her family. She’s shortening my leash while she’s away, so I won’t be able to roam very far from home. If I do, my electronic collar will shock me.

Until next time — jw

Get Bent Picture of the Week

Not all saguaros are super-models. Like people, they come with all sorts of warts and scars. The Gila woodpeckers carve nests in them because inside the flesh, the summer daytime temperatures can be over thirty degrees cooler than outside. The cavities don’t cause harm to the saguaro, and squatters like hawks, owls, and other birds move in after the woodpeckers leave. The substantial threats to a saguaro’s life are from lightning, strong winds, stupid people, but the real culprit is frost.

On our imaginary day-trip around Saguaro National Park, we’ve left behind the visitor center, and we’re exploring the Bajada Wash Loop, which leads from the west side up toward the Tucson Mountains—the park’s backbone. In fact, these are the only roads into the interior. Countless trails crisscross the park, and they appear to be the preferred method of exploring the backcountry. I’ll leave that mode of transportation to people younger and more agile than me.

Get Bent - A frost damaged saguaro rises above a thicket of palo verde before the Tucson Mountains.
Get Bent – A frost-damaged saguaro rises above a thicket of palo verde before the Tucson Mountains.

The afternoon was getting late when we reach the top of the loop. The shadows were already long as I looked for a shot of the range’s high peaks. I stopped the truck when I spotted an interesting cactus. It rose maybe thirty-feet above the top of a palo verde thicket, and it had a bent trunk. I guessed the deformity was the result of a freeze. It’s a young specimen—if you can consider thirty-years young—to have damage like this, but the Tucson Basin is a thousand-feet higher than Phoenix, and we were near the top of the loop, which is 500-600 feet above the city. That’s near the limits of the saguaro’s range because winter nights often get below freezing up here.

After I processed this shot and began pouring over area maps,  I realized that I also captured another landmark in it—actually two of them. To the saguaro’s left are two peaks on the horizon. The taller of them is Wasson Peak (4639′), and the other is Amole Peak (4386′). They are the two highest points within the park’s boundaries. So, this week you get a BOGO.

You can see a larger version of Get Bent on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, our day in Saguaro National Park comes to an end, so be sure to come back and see what we found.

BTW: Queen Anne and I wish you a very safe and happy Thanksgiving. We’ll be spending the day at home enjoying store-bought leftovers. You know, the usual turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, cranberry sauce molded in the shape of a can, and buttermilk pie topped with fruit and whipped cream. I’ll see you next week if I can get up from the couch.

Until next time — jw

Arm Pits Picture of the Week

When we visit national parks, Queen Anne and I like to spend time at the visitor’s center. We study the 3D display map and look through all the books. It gives us an idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, one of the regrettable effects that COVID 19 has brought is that the centers are closed. Even so, we stopped at the one in Saguaro National Park because they leave literature outside for crazy folks like us. That’s where the story of this week’s picture begins.

After picking up a map, I wandered the grounds looking for a shot of the mountains outback. I took several shots, but I knew they weren’t keepers. We got back in the truck, intending to explore the open roads, but we never left the parking lot. I spotted a possibility and immediately parked. As I hiked up the hill, I spotted a unique saguaro, and I forgot all about what I was after. Ooh, squirrel.

Arm Pits - A close-up photo of a cactus that refused to shave found in Saguaro National Park, Arizona.
Arm Pits – A close-up photo of a cactus that refused to shave found in Saguaro National Park, Arizona.

Like people, saguaros are all different. Young ones have no arms; some have one arm, others two or more. Someone could publish a book of saguaro portraits—it’s probably already done. The specimen that caught my eye had multiple arms, and they were pretty much at the same level. It reminded me of the Hindu goddess Durga—the woman seated with a gold headdress and many arms. As I approached the cactus, I noticed that it hadn’t been marred with woodpecker holes, so I spent some time trying to get a memorable photograph.

When I first reviewed this shot on my computer, I came up with a litany of Queen Anne jokes about shaving her legs. They involved ruined pantyhose, scratching posts, bear fur, velcro, and things along those lines. But, this morning, I thought better and decided not to go there. It’s better not to squander what little life I have left. I didn’t want to let the humor go to waste, though, so I titled this shot Arm Pits.

You can see a larger version of Arm Pits on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, our day in Saguaro National Park turns to late afternoon, so be sure to come back and see what we found.

Until next time — jw

Tucson Mountains Sunrise Picture of the Week

I woke up in a very chipper mood this morning. When I put on my jeans, they were so loose that I had to tighten my belt a notch to make things better. My morning routine is to check my vitals before making coffee, and my blood pressure was perfect today. There’s been a great weight lifted off my shoulders, and let me tell you what I think it is. First of all, I finally finished the wood project that’s kept me busy all summer—I’ll show you on Wednesday—and secondly, summer’s finally over—well I hope it is.

Over the past couple of days, clouds have filled the Congress skies, and it sprinkled Friday evening. That’s the first precipitation in months. This morning, our new wall thermometer got below 40º for the first time, and I got to put on one of my bulky sweaters. It keeps getting better—today’s forecast is for snow in the mountains. Yep, straight from summer to winter. Today, the world is better.

My mood is so good; I don’t have any snarky stories about Queen Anne, so let’s go back down to Tucson and see where we stopped for our second November image. Last week, we visited the overlook at the top of Gates Pass before dawn. Believe it or not, I wasn’t the only photographer there. A handful of guys were hanging out with their tripods set up for a sunrise shot when I got there. I’m not usually late to one of these parties, and when I saw what they were getting ready to shoot, I wasn’t impressed—it was more of a sundown kind of shot. After snapping a few other scenes, I hopped in the truck and headed down the road stopping again at the bottom of the pass.

Tucson Mountain Sunrise - The morning sun shines on top of the Tucson Mountains.
Tucson Mountain Sunrise – The morning sun shines on top of the Tucson Mountains.

In this week’s featured image—that I call Tucson Mountain Sunrise—we’re looking back at the overlook. It’s the flat area between the two forward peaks at the bottom of the sunlight. Behind that, you might recognize Bushmaster Peak from last week’s image. Actually, all of it is Bushmaster Peak, but I really liked the western side’s gnarly part. It has the most character. For scale, I found a couple of young saguaros and placed them in the foreground—that means that I was wandering around in the dark, rocky, snake-infested desert to get this shot just for you.

How could you ruin a beautifully quiet moment like this? Well, let me tell you how. Just as I finished my shot and began walking back to R-chee, a guy who was parked nearby in a black late-model Chevy pick-up fired it up, and the distinct sound of a V8 with open headers reverberated throughout the canyon. Now, I enjoy loud race cars as much as anybody, but it has to be in the right context. As this gentleman drove east through the pass, it was obvious that he wasn’t racing—he was making noise just for the sake of noise. Fortunately, after the summit, he rode the brakes downhill, and the bird songs once again filled the morning air.

You can see a larger version of Tucson Mountain Sunrise on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, we’ll make a morning stop in Saguaro National Park for another photograph in our story.

Until next time — jw