Tag: Travel

Blue Tank Saguaro Picture of the Week

It’s only the third month of 2021, and already I can tell it’s a much better year than the last one. If you remember, this time a year ago, I was comforting my dear wife, who was convalescing from knee surgery, we had growing concerns about a new virus that threatened our existence, and we faced travel restrictions to slow its spread. In contrast, this week, I feel like a kid at the end of a time-out, no longer grounded or released from juvy (of course, I was such an exemplary child that I never experienced any of those feelings—my parents just spanked us).

I have this exhilaration of freedom because we got our second vaccination shot this week—and we have passports to prove it. If you’re debating on getting your shots, you shouldn’t be. Queen Anne and I didn’t experience any abnormal side effects. Like any flu shot, your arm is sore for a couple of days, but other than that, our lives went on normally. And as an extra benefit—like a putty knife—the Microsoft chip they snuck into the vaccine scrapes off any plaque in your arteries (but I do have an incredible desire to buy a new version of Windows).

We’re still cautious about our movements—we wear masks and keep our distance, but now we can plan to go on vacation later this summer. In our laundry room, I have a huge wall map of the Colorado Plateau. Whenever Anne gets out of bed this afternoon, I’m going to have her toss a spit-ball at it. Wherever it lands is the place we’ll drag our trailer—The Ritz—this August.

Blue Tank Saguaro - A mature saguaro growing along the bank of the Blue Tank Wash near Wickenburg, Arizona.
Blue Tank Saguaro – A mature saguaro growing along the Blue Tank Wash bank near Wickenburg, Arizona.

I’m so giddy this morning; I almost forgot this week’s new picture. If it looks familiar, it should. That’s because it’s a variation of last week’s featured image. They both show the mountains on the Hassayampa River’s far side, and they both feature saguaro cactus. The difference is that last week’s photo was of the mountains with cactus in the foreground, and this one is a saguaro with the mountains in the background. Who said you couldn’t get two good variations of the same scene by working-the-shot? I called this shot Blue Tank Saguaro for obvious reasons.

I’m interested in hearing what you think. Both images can be seen on their Web Pages, and you can flip between them using the Previous/Next links. You can get to this week’s image by clicking here. Which of the two do you like better? Let me know by leaving your comment at the bottom of this page. Be sure to come back next week for another of my images from the mountains surrounding Wickenburg.

Until next time — jw

UPDATE 4:30 pm: Anne got up and threw her spit-ball at the map, so I guess in August we’re going to . . . the laundry room.

Eagle Eye Cliff Picture of the Week

There’s trouble brewing for me. In this case, it’s a good problem—it’s mischief, really. My conflict is a clash between my annual wanderlust and self-preservation. Sitting on each of my shoulders is an angel and a devil (they’re a metaphor, I don’t really see them, so don’t send a paddy wagon after me). The good one tells me to take the long-term view, while its counterpart tempts me with immediate gratification.

Arizona’s winters come in two parts; cold and wet. They’re relative, of course, nothing like what you see in other parts of the country, but hey, it’s what we’re used to. During the cold period, our weather drops in from the Gulf of Alaska. The second half of our winter is wet because the incoming storms originate over the Pacific. In between these mini-seasons, high pressure settles over the State, and we have warm, sunny days and cool evenings. This period of ideal weather can last from one to six weeks. Last year, we skipped the wet part and went straight to summer.

Last week we had a cold front move through our state with high winds and cloudy skies. It left us and went to Texas, and you can see what happened there. But the second half of the week was sunny and clear. The air was so clean; you could make out boulders on distant mountains. I immediately knew that this is our mid-winter lull. I say we should close the Arizona border so outsiders don’t find out why we live here.

Thursday morning, I took my cup of coffee out onto the back of the deck, and I got that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. I need to be on a boat somewhere with a fishing line tied to my big toe while I nap in the sun. This is my annual spring wanderlust, and I want to go somewhere—anywhere. I’ve had enough of winter; I’m ready for adventure.

But, we still have this global plague to deal with. Queen Anne and I have received our first vaccine dose, and next week, we get the second. However, that isn’t a Get out of jail free card. We still have to constrain ourselves. I don’t know how much more willpower I have. I’m really ready to flick the angel off my shoulder and drive to the coast to taste the new wines, visit some Santa Fe galleries, or explore Utah’s Henry Mountains, anyplace but Aguila.

Eagle Eye Cliff - The cliffs on the south side of the Eagle Eye Mountains shows that there is limestone foundations under the lava.
Eagle Eye Cliff – The cliffs on the south side of the Eagle Eye Mountains show limestone foundations under the lava.

But since we’re still stuck in Aguila, let me show you this week’s featured image. I call this one Eagle Eye Cliff. It’s from the same pair of mountains as we’ve explored for the last couple of weeks. The two peaks are the eastern end of the Harquahala Range and are dwarfed by their big brother next door.

I’ve already talked about how the Eagle Eyes are covered in lava, but you can see a limestone foundation underneath in this shot. I don’t know if the white cliff is the remnant of an old reef or the volcanic stone shielded it from erosion. To me, it looks like sloppily done chocolate icing on a white cake. That’s barbaric. Everybody knows that white cake should have caramelized pineapple on it.

You can see a larger version of Eagle Eye Cliff on its Web Page by clicking here. Be sure to come back next week, and I’ll show you the final shot that I liked from my outing in Aguila.

Until next time — jw

Eagle Eye Peak Picture of the Week

The last time I wrote about Aquila’s Eagle Eye was in 2018, and I didn’t have much to say about it—other than it was there. That post included a photo I shot with a telephoto lens from miles away. I had to do that because much of the land around the peak is posted as private. There were two comments in that column. The first was from Fred, who thanked me for pointing the bridge to him, and the second was from my old friend Gary, who chastised me for not getting closer.

Since I’ve been hanging around Aguila this month anyway, I thought I’d try to make Gary happy. About three miles south of Aguila are mountains on the east flank of the Harquahala range. They almost have the same name; Eagle Eye Mountain is on the west, while Eagle Eye Peak is the lump of lava to the east (they touch one another). The latter peak is the one with the window on top.

Eagle Eye Peak - A natural arch on top of a peak several miles south of Aguila, Arizona
Eagle Eye Peak – A natural arch on top of a peak several miles south of Aguila, Arizona. Behind Eagle Eye is the Harquahala Plain, which stretches south to the Big Horn Range on the horizon.

You can get very close to the arch if you drive to the old cemetery where Eagle Eye Road bends around the mountains. The bad news is that you can’t see the arch from there because it faces east, and all you see are the rocks from the edge. There’s a better view if you scramble up an 800′ cactus-infested lava hill like an insane person, but I did the lazy thing. I brought my drone, and I flew it to the mountaintop. Once it got up there, I rotated it to the right and composed this shot.

The Eagle Eyes, like a lot of low desert mountains, were formed from volcanic activity. This particular pair of mountains is basalt-covered limestone. The rocks are much darker than the rest of the Harquahala Range. They appear as shadows on the horizon. Their surface is rough and pockmarked, like they had a bad case of acne. They are riddled with caves formed by air pockets in the lava.

I didn’t find an article that explains how this arch was formed. I don’t think it was formed from wind erosion. The rocks aren’t polished. It could be from one of those air voids in the thin-walled lava collapsing. My favorite guess is this: If this is Rhyolite—slow-moving lava common to peak formation—then maybe a cone of lava formed vertically, and as it cooled, it slumped over and froze in place. At least, that’s what it looks like to me. What do you think?

Well, Gary, I hope you’re happy. Click here to see a larger version of Eagle Eye Peak on its Web Page. Be sure to return next week when I’ll show you the arch from a different perspective.

Until next time — jw

Harcuvar Forest Picture of the Week

Our little town is not so different from yours. We have crime here too. That’s why the county sends a couple of deputies down from Prescott to patrol our streets and keep us safe. Most of the time, they drive around the empty streets, but there are moments where a rush of adrenalin flows through their veins—like last Friday night.

As most cops do, deputies Starsky and Hutch parked their cruisers on the dead-end street between the Dollar Store and the Quickie-Mart in such a way that they could drink coffee, chat across their door windows while keeping an eye on the only traffic control sign in southern Yavapai County. The night had been rainy but peaceful up till then.

Shortly after Congress’s only cowboy gay-bar closed, a pair of suspicious cars rolled up to the stop sign before turning south on Highway 89. Starsky noticed that a woman with long blond hair was driving the lead exotic Italian sports car (Around these parts, a Fiat 500 stretch limo is considered exotic) in the din of the sodium-vapor street lights. “I have to check this out,” Starsky yelled out his window, stowed the coffee in a cup-holder, put his cruiser in gear, and drove off in chase.

As he perused the little import through downtown Congress, he crossed over the double yellow lines, raced around the second vehicle before cutting in front of it. Then he lit up his lights and pulled the Fiat over. As he called in the plates for wants-and-warrants, he noticed that the sinister black Buick had pulled in behind. Sensing a threat, he radioed Hutch for back up. When he finally saw the second set of emergency lights in his mirror, he felt that he could safely get out of his cruiser.

Hutch had already climbed out of his truck behind him with a Maglite in his left hand while resting his right hand on his holster. He walked up to the second suspect’s vehicle and heard the last remaining Jennifer Rush Disco CD blaring through the stereo. The woman behind the wheel sat motionless with her hands in the air. “Mam, can you tell me why you pulled off the road behind my partner?” (OK, to protect the innocent, I have to change some names. Donna is the floozy driving the Fiat because Donnas always drive convertible sports cars. The gangsta-girl in the second car I’ll call Princess Margaret. Yeah, that works. No one will ever guess their real names.)

“That’s my friend, Donna,” Margaret replies. “I just want to make sure she gets home alright.”

“Well, this is a dangerous place to park. You’ll be safer if you pull in front of the other vehicles.”

With that, Margaret put her hands down, put on the left blinker to signal the empty highway that she was pulling out. Slowly she drove around the other cars, signaled that she was pulling back off the road, she put the car into park, and—once again—raised her hands over her head.

As Starsky strutted toward the hottie in the little white Italian Job, he practiced his best, “So, how you doin?” But when he got to her open window, the flashlight glare revealed far more lines of wisdom on her face than he expected, and her long tresses weren’t blond; they were pewter. His training and quick thinking let him instantly change tact. Instead, he asked, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You didn’t come to a complete stop at the sign on 71.”

“Yes. I believe that I did.”

“That’s OK; I’m going to let you off with a warning,” which is what cops do when they can’t prove something in court. It also leaves a paper trail that shows they were working.

Donna—the consummate socialite—tried to get on the deputy’s good side, “I understand. My first husband was a Highway Patrol Officer.”

“When was that,” Starsky asked.

“During the late sixties and seventies,” she replied.

“That was long before I was born,” he gasped.

After Starsky filled out the form, he handed it to Donna and watched her drive off. Margaret finally put her hands down and followed into the darkness. As he walked back to his Tahoe, it finally sunk in that he almost hit on his grandma; he doubled over and blew donut chunks onto the front tire. From the other cruiser, he could hear Hutch’s giggling float across the damp night air.

Harcuvar Forest - A large grove of Saguaro grow along the eastern flank of the Harcuvar Mountain Range.
Harcuvar Forest – A large grove of Saguaro grows along the eastern flank of the Harcuvar Mountain Range.

You may be wondering what this story has to do with this week’s picture. Well, actually, nothing other than our town’s stop sign is on Highway 71, and at the other end of that road—near Aguila—is where Santa rests, and there is a large grove of saguaros growing along the eastern flank of the Harcuvar Mountains. That’s where I took this week’s picture, which I call Harcuvar Forest. When I drove home from that shooting, I stopped at that very intersection—without getting arrested. I guess that I’m not cute enough.

You can see a larger version of Harcuvar Forest on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, I’ll bring you another image from around our house.

Until next time — jw

Date Creek Clearing Picture of the Week

Sometimes you get lucky. As a photographer, I keep scenes in my head, so I can go back when the light is right when I want to capture them. That’s what happened for last week’s image, Resting Santa. We had a series of dry fronts move through Congress during the month, but the weather forecasts called for an afternoon where the sky would be clear so the evening sun would pleasantly light up the Harcuvars. I left the house at 3:30 and purposely drove out to get that shot. It was practically a product shot.

More often, I pass by beautiful once in a lifetime scenes that will never be replicated, and I chastise myself for not having a camera with me—or worse—not taking the time to stop. That’s almost what happened with this week’s featured image.

Date Creek Clearing - A clearing winter storm hangs over the Date Creek Range in the evening sun.
Date Creek Clearing – A clearing winter storm hangs over the Date Creek Range in the evening sun.

After I was finished shooting Resting Santa, I drove home on State Route 71. I was looking forward to getting back to a warm home, a nice glass of wine, and one of Queen Anne’s famous home-cooked Stouffer’s dinners. The sun was low on the horizon, and outside my window, a golden cloud hung over the Date Creek range. The conversation in my head went something like this.

“Oh my, that’s gorgeous. I should really come back with the camera sometime when the light is like this.”

“You idiot! Your camera is on the passenger seat, and the light is like this right now. Stop the truck, walk across the road, and take the picture.”

I was very convincing, so I did stop and take a shot—several of them to be exact. The version that I like most is called Date Creek Clearing. There are two prominent peaks in the Date Creek Range; both of them are unnamed. On the left is the rocky pinnacle that ate my first drone, so I call it Drone Eater Mountain. On the right side is the Range’s high point. They are only bit-players in this photo. The real stars here are the clouds caught in a moment that can never be duplicated. Those storm leftovers can never be the same.

I know that my work is considered trivial and will never warrant a Pulitzer Prize or other great awards. I shoot mostly meaningless pretty pictures, valued at a dime-a-dozen. But on a week such as the one we’ve experienced, I needed a bit of calmness and serenity. If you feel the same, then this is my gift to you.

You can see a larger version of Date Creek Clearing on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, I’ll bring you another image from our small corner of the world. Stay safe.

Until next time — jw