Great Pictures

Here are six photographs that I have taken that I really like.  Let me know what you think.

The first photograph is of Cathedral Rock in Sedona. I had hiked up to the top of Cathedral Rock via Oak Creek and was standing there admiring the view when a crow swooped by.  I frantically grabbed at my camera to take its picture but by then it was heading somewhere else.  I was disappointed but it was only after I was going through my photographs that I realized what I had. The lighting is perfect with the sun going down.

This picture is off the San Diego coast just below the University of San Diego Marine Preserve.  I was walking through the rocks during the middle of the day when the light is generally at its worse and took this photograph.  The tide was going out but there was still a lot of water in the tide pools and the resulting picture was a lot better than I expected it to be.

This picture was taken in San Diego at Point Loma.  It was a cold, windy day--which they probably have a lot of there judging by how the trees are all blown back from the cliffs below. It sort of reminds me of Aruba with how the trees are all shredded on the windward side. I was walking with my head down as the wind whipped by and glanced up and took the picture. As you can tell, I did not stage the photograph at all because I included the sidewalk in the photo and who cares about an ugly sidewalk?  I should have walked around the lighthouse and found an angle without the road, etc, but it was windy, my hands were in my pockets and I was more concerned about the cold than composition. But when I looked at the photograph on my computer, I was surprised.  The more I looked at it, the more I liked it so I am including it.

This photograph was taken on the way back to Snowflake to Pinetop in the White Mountains of Arizona.  The sun was going down and I was driving west and I looked at the car window at the island of Ponderosa pine in the sea of wildflowers and pulled over.  I stuck my camera through the barbed wire fence and snapped the picture, got back in the car and drove home. The high planes of eastern Arizona are full of these islands and every island looks like someone drew a treaty between the grass and the trees. Trees, you can grow here, grass you can grow here and neither shall trespass upon the other until the end of time! The funny thing about it is that there really is no difference between when the grass stops and the trees start so the altitude is not any different. One side of the line does not get any more water or sun. The grass grows here, the trees grow there and you can stand with a foot in each with no problem.

This photograph was taken in San Carlos, Senora Mexico. It was taken from the walkway of the Condo I was staying in at sunset. I did not wait for the perfect moment. I did not stage it. I was walking by to go down to the lobby with my camera, stopped, and took the picture. The only thing I did do was try and minimize any cars or people.  I got lucky with the boat and the car right above deer island that caught the fading sun. To the right of Deer Island is a former Club Med that went under after a bad hurricane about 10 years ago. The hurricane ripped the place apart and they gave up and moved out. It eventually opened up again as the Paridisio Hotel and they are slowly fixing everything.  You can barely see a bar on the beach on the far right of the photograph just to the right of Deer Island that used to be called the Hurricane Bar and Grill for a number of years before the Paradisio went in and bought them out.  It is now called the Soggy Peso Bar. The reason why I know so much about that area is that I park over there to go snorkeling around Deer Island. That island has some of the best snorkeling in the area and I love to go there.  On the leeward side, the water is calm and clear and you can gently go through the rocks and tide pools with nary a care.  On the windward side, the winds can be fierce, the waves high and you have to be careful not to be swept up and then slammed down on the rocks. The fish are scarce and the visibility is not that great with all the wind and waves but the ride is almost like an amusement park -- if you like risking life and limb.

Deer island is actually all three islands that you can see in the photograph.  The small island between the two bigger islands is home to hundreds of pelicans.  You snorkel out to the small island on the leeward side then tread water as the waves come through the gap and smash into you like you are going around the Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America. Cape Horn has sunk thousands of ships throughout history and is famous for the fury of two oceans coming together. This is similar on a much smaller scale but instead of a boat, you are snorkeling and are so low in the water that with each wave, you go up and up and up and up and then down and down and down and down. The only thing you can hear is the crash of the waves bludgeoning the rock. More than a dozen times I have stopped there and asked myself, do I really want to go into that gap?

Weekend at Bernies -- the Hurricane Sequel

What happens when you are on vacation in San Carlos with kids and a hurricane hits across the Sea of Cortez on Baja?  You get wind, rain, clouds, high seas and two stir-crazy monkeys who have spent most of the day jumping on the bed and want nothing more from life than to jump some more until one of them falls off the bed and breaks their head... Hey, I should make up a nursery rhyme about that!

But to keep them from breaking their heads, we took the kids for a walk along the ocean. It is amazing how little there is to do here when the kids cannot get into the pool or the ocean because of an inconvenient hurricane.  While we were at the ocean, we came upon Bernie the Seal.  The day before the hurricane arrived, we piled up lots of rocks on the seaward side of the seal to keep the dearly departed from being swept back out to sea.  It was successful until a hurricane high tide moved in and gave Bernie a ride into sequel history.

As we were walking along the shore, my wife sniffed and commented that something smelled really, really bad.  I had noticed the smell but had dismissed it and was heading for where the seal should have been stinking everything up when I heard my wife comment and turned around and looked down in some rocks and there was Bernie.  I whipped out the camera and captured the moment.

I love the contrasting expressions: Bryce is having the time of his life, Isabelle thinks the seal is sleeping, and mommy is trying to figure out how to explain death to a three year old...

Two's Company, Three's a Seal!

I grew up at the base of a mountain. Between my house and the mountain was a large forest of dwarf oak and maple trees under a bluff.  Almost every spare minute of my childhood was spent down in those woods.  In those days there were no video games or VCR's or DVD's or even CD's.  If we wanted to watch a television show, you had to turn on the TV at the right time and watch it.  There were no DVR's to record your favorite shows when you were not there.  In fact, we never had a color television until my family moved away from the mountain to the country years later.

So what did I do for fun?  There was a big pack of us kids that would go into the forest under the bluff and build tree huts, hideouts, chase rabbits, pheasants, deer and anything else we could find.  One of my favorite memories was of finding a dead skunk and interring the smelly remains in a rival gang's hideout. Good times, I know.

We learned important things about life in those woods--the first being how to find your way out when it was time to go home.  My dad used to stand on the bluff overlooking the forest and whistle when it was time to go home. When you heard the whistle, it was time for dinner. There was a large power line tower in the middle of the woods that had been erected long before we made those woods our own.  The engineers that had put it in had cut their way into the forest and built the tower in the middle of the woods.  You always knew exactly where you were because of the tower.  If you got lost, you oriented on the tower and you quickly found your way back.

The second thing you learned in those woods was to look before you leaped because when the engineers built the power line, they cut their way into the forest to do it.  What they left behind was a narrow trail they used to get their equipment and materials into the woods--that and hundreds of dwarf oak trees that had been cut off about two inches above the ground -- just high enough to trip you up as you were bolting down the trail with a lungful of youthful air in your chest. Tripping and landing on hundreds of severed stumps was not the fun time you would think it is.  Dwarf oak trees are not very big around--only about an inch across. They probably get to be about ten feet high as their maximum height so when they are cut down, they leave a tiny little stump that hides in the weeds and grass and snatches at your tennis shoe when you least expect it. You trip and down you go and where there is one stump, there are more and they are sharp.

How many skinned knees did I get down there?  How much blood did I leave behind?

There were millions of things to do in the woods below the bluff but we always started off with the dead deer. The deer had gotten shot during hunting season but had escaped to bleed to death at the edge of the woods. Every time we would go into the forest, we would make a beeline to look at the rotting corpse.  We would carefully examine the legs, ribs, spine, head, mouth and teeth--preferably down wind.  The dead deer was a landmark--like the Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon or the tower.  You sniffed and you instantly knew where you were.  Like I wrote before, good times.

We were not the only gang to frequent the woods but we were the most successful judging by the number of tree huts and hideouts that we built. There was the tire hideout (named because of a flat tire that had somehow made its way into the forest), the cliff hideout, named because of the cliff at one end of the forest that we used to clamor around on, and the three maple trees hideout where three maples trees had grown together. Maple trees made excellent locations for building a hideout. They were strong and big and easy to pound nails into.

Building materials for hideouts were precious and we quickly learned to conceal our tracks and to build hideouts as far away from the trails as we could so that rival gangs would not grab our materials and use them for building their structures. Once we located another gang's hideout, we would sneak into their territory and grab the best materials and leave a surprise behind for them to find -- like the dead skunk or a spare dead deer (there were always lots of dead deer because of hunting season).  There was nothing better than scoring a perfect sheet of plywood and then sitting a deer at their table with a plate, glass and knife and the remains of a peanut and jelly sandwich. Once we even wired a dead skunk to their door so when they opened it, down swung the bloated skunk corpse and gave them a pleasant surprise. It only worked once but when it worked, it really worked!

So why do young boys love dead things so much? Being at the ocean here in San Carlos, Bryce immediately veers towards any remains on the beach.  The more "dead" it is, the more interesting it becomes.  His favorite thing to look at is dead crab remains--mostly because the claws remain mechanically intact. Even dead, they can still grab things and are loads of fun. The more it smells, the better. The last time we were here, he spent a good part of the week with a dead stingray like they were both extras in the movie Weekend at Bernies.  The stingray went on adventures. It played trucks and cars and built forts.  The skin was rubbery that it held up well to the rigors of playtime.

Ever morning here at San Carlos, we go for walks along the beach and Bryce would eagerly look for new prizes to take home.  On Wednesday, we found a dead adult seal on the beach and he had a blast. The seal was big -- about as long as I was tall and it weighed a lot more. The first thing we did was to make sure that the ocean wouldn't take the seal back by putting lots of rocks between the seal and the ocean. It was only after we were done that I realized we had just stranded a dead seal in front of someone's expensive beach house. Can you imagine arriving here for a week of rest and relaxation and not being able to go outside because there was a rotting seal at your door?

The good news is that just like the dead deer in the forest, we can always orient ourselves on the beach by the smell!

Can you read his lips?  I think he said, "wow!"

 

Bryce the conqueror!

Sea Snail Babies

Have you ever smelled something so bad that you wanted to cut off your nose so you wouldn't have to smell it anymore?  Have you ever smelled something so absolutely, stunningly horrific that you wanted to cut off your entire head?

That's what happened this morning. It was so bad that I was looking for even a dull knife to end my pain.

It all started when Bryce woke up and immediately bolted onto the condo patio to see his "friends." His friends consist of captured crabs, snails, starfish, lizards, fish parts, bones and anything else that he can catch or find in the ocean, the condo, or the deepest depths of the Amazon rainforest. In the past five days that we have been here, he has gotten so good at catching creatures that he has put a dent in the local creature population.

He ran out onto the patio and I forgot about him until he came running in to tell anyone who would listen that his sea snails were having babies!  I did not listen, I admit it.  The reason why I did not listen was that something in the condo immediately started stinking the place up--something so bad that you caught a sniff and you wanted to run out of the condo and retch over the condo's railing.

We tried to find the source of the stench.  We thought it was a bathing suit.  Then we thought it was a shirt.  Then we thought it was a towel. And all the time we was trying to find the smell, Bryce was demanding to be heard.  The snails had died and were having babies! Why would no one listen to him?

We eventually tracked down the stench.  It was Bryce!  We grabbed him kicking and screaming and threw him in the tub.  He had gotten snail guts all over his pajamas! He didn't want a bath, he wanted to watch the snail babies, but we forced him into the water and scrubbed both him and the pajamas.

After he was washed and dried and breakfast was over, we went out to the patio to get bathing suits, etc, from the towel rack that the condo has out there.  It was then that we discovered what had caused Bryce to stink so bad.  Bryce had wanted to see what sea snails are made of after they die so he had dug them out of their shells and smeared the corpses onto the patio.  They had then rotted in the hot humid sun as only sea creatures can and the smell was horrific. It smelled so bad you wanted to gag.  It smelled so bad you wanted to vomit your breakfast over the railing into the unfortunate patios below. It smelled so bad that you wanted to vomit your head over the condo railing!  It smelled so bad you started to hallucinate and smell the stench long after you had fled to another country or even the moon!

Why do timeshare condos not provide hazardous materials suits?

 Have you ever seen that episode of Seinfield where Seinfield gives his BMW to a valet and gets it back with B.O. and he can't get rid of the smell?  Getting his car detailed did not help.  Getting it steamed cleaned did not help.  The only thing he could do was drive it with his head out the window.

That was a walk in a flowery park compared to what was going on our patio.  This stench was so bad it reminded me of the time I was out duck hunting as a kid one very early winter morning and grabbed a "duck" in the dark that was hiding in the grass.  The duck, which had fur and a white stripe down its black "duck" back, sprayed me full in the chest. The smell was so bad it made me light headed.  The smell was so bad it made me dizzy.  The smell was so bad that I couldn't tell for sure that I had been sprayed!  I was too incoherent, dizzy and light-headed to smell!  The only thing I could do was stagger home and strip naked in the snow in the back yard and hang my gear and clothing on the back fence then go inside and have my mother dump tomato juice all over me in the bathtub.  Have you ever been bathed in tomato juice by your mother?!!!! Even to this day I block out the event. The only thing I remembered after it was over was I still smelled so bad that the only person who could stand me was myself. And that was because my nose had been burned out like a dead light bulb.

Getting sprayed by a duck-skunk was bad.  Grabbing a duck-skunk wasn't the smartest thing to do in the pre-dawn light. But what Bryce was growing on the condo patio was worse. So what could be worse than Seinfield's B.O. or being sprayed full in the chest by a duck-skunk?

Flies had found the snails and had laid their eggs in the smears and their "babies" had hatched! The snails were having babies! Maggots were crawling everywhere!

We cleaned up the horrific, god awful mess and took all creatures, both alive and dead, and threw them all, cursing, back into the ocean while Bryce wailed his misfortune.

And the patio?  It still smells but at least it does not burn a hole in your brain.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to watch a rerun of Seinfield's B.O. episode in Spanish. This time I will keep a sharp eye out for the scenes when he was in his BMW. I bet there was a nest of sea snail babies hiding under the seat!

Have You Ever Felt Trapped?

Have you ever felt trapped?  Have you ever woken up and felt trapped in a bad situation that you try and try to get out of but no matter what you do, you cannot escape?  Have you tried to escape a bad job, a bad friendship, a bad car payment, a bad underwater mortgage, a bad relationship, or a bad next door neighbor who felt it his duty to ruin the neighborhood?  Have you ever been trapped in traffic, trapped in a meeting that never ends, trapped at a social event where the host would not let you leave?

I still remember a time in college where I took a hiking class and a guy got up to do a presentation on first aid on a hike and he starts out saying, "The last thing I want to do up here on this rock is drone on and on about first aid for the next hour..." and yet, that was exactly what he did!  He droned on and one about first aid for an hour while standing on a rock!!!!!  And I was trapped!  I could not escape!  For an hour that I will never get back, I was doomed!

So think of the worst situation you have ever been trapped in. I remember one such experience when I was a kid at church.  Someone was saying a prayer and the church was silent. The person who was saying the prayer finished the prayer and said, "Amen." Everyone else then said, "Amen" and opened their eyes--including old Herb Peterson, my friend's father.  Herb had closed his eyes and listened to the prayer along with everyone else only when he opened his eyes, he let out the most fearful, terror-filled, heart-wrenching, wailing scream that anyone has ever heard.  It burst out of his lungs and echoed around the silent church causing everyone else to scream in turn.  What had happened?  Had the roof fallen in?  Had a mouse scurried up someone's leg? Had one of Herb's old war stories about WWII come to life and the Germans were invading Hooper, Utah?

The answer, I hesitate to tell you, was much worse.  When old Herb opened his eyes, he did not see the Germans marching into the church or a squirrel running up his leg (that did happen but that is another story).  What Herb saw when he opened his eyes was a diabolical, winged demon from hell the size of the entire church!  In fact, it was so big it filled the entire church! It had a black head, clawed beak, multiple eyes and multi-jointed arms and, oh my god, it was reaching for him!  He screamed.  He screamed like he had never screamed before in his long life.

And then the fly flew off his glasses.
 
OK, now that I have shared with you someone's deepest, darkest, most terror-stricken moment, imagine if you will that you are crossing a narrow, treacherous  bridge without any railings.  Under the bridge is a deep, inescapable pit. If you scurry across the bridge, you are free. If you fall you are trapped. Now imagine crossing that narrow bridge with your biggest, deepest, Herb-shrieking horror chasing you.  If you fall, you are trapped with the horror! But if you make it across the bridge, you are free!

So you frantically bolt across the bridge away from the worst horror of your life and, oh no! you fall into the pit!   You desperately try to get out. You climb and claw and scrabble frantically at the metal walls of your prison trying to get out.  But nothing you do makes any difference.  You are trapped in the condo's BBQ Pit's stainless steel sink!  You cannot get away! Only, you are worse than trapped because that terrible, horrible horror reaches down into that pit and grabs you and just as you think it cannot get any worse, it somehow, inexplicably does!

You have become the horror's pet!  You have become the horror's source of entertainment!

 So what devilish games will this horrible terror subject you to? Will you be put in a gladiatorial arena to fight to the death against similar victims? Will you be forced to send letters to your kin begging for them to ransom your release?  Will you find yourself interrogated in a dark room with the sound of dripping water under a bright light as an enemy combatant?

Or can it somehow get worse where, horror of all horrors, you become an unwilling, trapped star in a twisted, diabolical show?

Will it ever, ever end?

FUN IN THE SETTING SUN IN THE SAND

I was told to take the kids somewhere for a couple of hours to wear them out.  So I took them to the sandy play area at the condo.  The light was wrong (it was behind them) but the photos still came out OK. The interesting thing about playing in the sand with your kids is that they have to do something with the sand.  You just can't bring them down to the sand and expect them to have fun.  You have to "provide" entertainment for them in the sand.  In this case, what could be more fun than building a sand castle?  So we set out to build a sand castle. (more below)

What do you need to build a sand castle?  You need, well, sand -- specifically, wet sand. If you look at the pictures, you will not see any water anywhere so the water had to be imported.  Queue Daddy the Pack Mule. The water is available in three different places.  1) the BBQ pit area, 2) the shower by the pool, 3) the pool or 4) the ocean.  Yes, that makes four instead of three but as I was writing this it suddenly occurred to me there was an entire pool waiting to be tapped for water so I did not have to stand in the shower in my clothes holding the bucket and getting all wet--which would be really, really, really stupid when all I had to do was dunk the bucket in the pool. (I'll give you three guesses to figure out which choice I did and the first two do not count).

Anyway, so the Pack Mule went to the shower and got all wet while getting water then tried the BBQ (too far) and the ocean (what, carry the bucket up two flights of stairs?) and then I recommended that they do something else because I was tired!  The Pack Mule was beat! (and wet)...

...and then she grows up to be a woman...

I tell anyone who will listen that boys and girls are different. There are lots and lots of things with Isabelle that I do not remember having to deal with Bryce. She is happy, she is sad, she is sweet, she is mean, she is polite, she is demanding, she is temperamental, she is quiet, she is loud...

...she is angry, she is adorable and she bounces between one mood and another faster than a pinball off the bumper

and then she grows up to be a woman! (someday)