A GOVERNMENT OF STOOGES

HE SAID IT RIGHT

     As soon as I started shooting the sign this morning, more than a dozen others got out their cars and began doing likewise. I felt like a translator at the UN, explaining the best that I could.  Japanese, Chinese, Greek, Swedes, Italian and French.  Those who spoke or understood English then translated to a growing crowd of others who swelled the road side crowd.  

     The Ranger Booth at the Tioga Pass entrance to Yosemite was under siege. No one, except those with printed reservation forms were being admitted. The Rangers were doing their best to remain cool and apologize. More than once they sympathized with foreign visitors who were here for what is likely their once and only visit to the iconic American vistas.

     We were saddened for those who will miss the views that should be on everyone's bucket list.  We visit frequently and it was easy for us to shake it off, not so for the others.
     He must have been a Russian, at least by my guess of his accent.  He was explaining to traveling companions, loudly as he walked back to his car.
      "To close this park.  They are a government of stooges!"
Agreed, I thought to myself.

    We drove on to other destinations.  On our way out we passed the group of Brits who shared our lodge dining room only an hour or so earlier.  A group of 20 or so had rented Corvettes and are touring California.  There they were, bright, shiny convertibles, in a caravan headed west on 120

toward the gate where the besieged ranger probably wished he could tell the increasingly long line of cars that he worked for a government of stooges.

    See you down the trail.

IN THE SIERRA

UPPING THE ALTITUDE

     Tall pines and towering peaks create a jagged and spired frame. The night is deep, a sky rich with stars.  Wind rakes through trees and the night hums with a Sierra wind as pines whisper sing and aspen rattle. The air is crisp, intoxicating with energy and mountain scent. A meteor rips the star field, and leaves a shinning trail. My legs quake as though the mountain electrifies.
      This part of the range is between 9 and 12 thousand feet. Rock and granite peaks that nestle high meadows and alpine lakes. 

    Three hours of climbing put us a little shy of 11 thousand.  Both of us felt the altitude.  The payoff though was majestic scene after scene and moments for precious meditation.

MOUNTAIN ENERGY

      Evening clouds in the eastern Sierra, south of Yosemite
near June Lake. 

     Wake up sunshine.

A CLASSIC

       A recent moment in the Carson Peak Steakhouse, a mountain staple.  For more than 50 years diners have enjoyed  steak and trout in this eastern slope hide away, in the  forest outside the mountain village. 

GOOD ENERGY

      At a lodge a waiter from Hawaii who came here in a snow storm many years ago, says this part of the Sierra is a kind of energy vortex.  He seems to be a mellow and happy man.
     There are more happy notes, coming.

      See you down the trail.     

    

THE WEEKENDER-CAPTURING THE MOOD

UNDER THE STARS

    As the sun dropped from the painted sky it pulled in thousands of stars on jet blackness over Harmony California.

    Jim Conroy and the Mystery Brothers sweetened the air, a further desert at the Harmony Cafe, alfresco.

     It was a CD release party and the California Irishman logged in stories behind the songs he wrote-Gypsies by the Sea, Celtic Cactus, Walking Down the High Road, Universal Prayer, Mystery of Life and more including the haunting Volcano Lullaby. 

     Conroy's music is accomplished, deep, rich in texture, mood and life.  And like his stories, his creations evoke images.  He finished telling of driving hours in the Baja desert, crossing a ridge with a volcano to the right when suddenly the peaceful blue bay comes into view, as though singing to the smoking volcano.  

     A September night on the California coast, minstrels casting a spell as the quiet Santa Lucia Mountains slumber in the moon light and the Pacific roars its own lullaby.

Harmony indeed.

     See you down the trail.

INSTEAD OF THE POLITICIANS OR STARS AND LOOKING UP

CELEBRATE THE GENIUS

     In a "better" world, our media would find better fodder, especially in the personalities we see, read and hear about.

     Maybe instead of rum-dum politicians, show business luminaries and rich athletes we could read about geniuses.

    Today, that "better" scenario exists-the Geniuses are here, celebrated and even compensated. Here is your link to real greatness-THIS YEARS MacARTHUR FOUNDATION FELLOWS. 

      Usually the Fellows are surprised or stunned by the award and this year is no different.

       This Washington Post piece captures that element.

     This LA Times story profiles a Cal Tech brain researcher

breaking new ground.

       This years class of fellows will each receive $650 thousand for their contributions to life on this planet. In their own field and in their own way they are heroes and the best of us.

LOOKING UP

    For some curious reason, curious because I'm not sure what is the motivation, I've been looking for shots that require a quick look up. Thus....

     See you down the trail.

THE PIER and THE BRUSH

THE BRUSH
Meditations on living with a finite resource

    The bath brush is getting "more playing time," as they say in the game.  

     Serious attempts at water conservation have given me the opportunity to notice how the time with the shower off increases, proportionately, the time when the brush gets to work.  No doubt this is something like the principle of Inverse Void Action-the emptiness of something, in this case water, is filled with the presence of something else, the use of the brush.

      The soak, lather and scrub practice, done between quick douses from the shower, is a pleasant way to conserve by shortening showers. And as you might expect, it also enhances the pleasure of the water spray when it is on.

THE PIER

    The Pier and cove at San Simeon are a jewel of the Central Coast. Human intrusion is at a minimum. 

     See you down the trail. 

THE WEEKENDER-AWESOME-PEACEFUL-AND THE DOG GOLDBERG

THE ELDERS OF THE PLANET

      As the news of floods, drought, wildfire and tropical storms fill the airwaves and internet I've been thinking about some of my favorite living things-the giant Sequoia trees only some 4 hours from here.
    From 1,200 to 1,800 years old I try to imagine the kind of changes that have swept over this planet since they first emerged as saplings.  I am filled with awe and reverence whenever I am in their presence, or in the presence of their cousins, the coast Redwoods.  That is why Big Sur and the
Sequoia national parks are so special to me.

TIME TO CHILL

   No matter where your journey has taken you this week, here are a couple of frames to help you find a road to peaceful relaxation.

THE WEEKENDER VIDEO

it may have you howling

   Find something to enjoy this weekend.  See you down the trail.

BUT THE MEMORIES SURVIVE AND A REQUIEM FOR OLD TREES

THEY CAN'T TEAR DOWN THE MEMORIES

Photo courtesy and copyright Rob Goebel-The Indianapolis Star

   It was jarring to see what is left of the administration building of the old Weir Cook, later Indianapolis International Airport, a place I spent a lot of time as a reporter. 

    It was there I met Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek,  had my first meeting with Fred Friendly of CBS News/Ed Murrow fame, caught my first glimpse of Barry Goldwater, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan and many other luminaries.

    The conference room was an easy spot for news crews to assemble and catch the famous he or she before they headed off. It was also the place I watched as directors began the process of dreaming the new ultra modern airport that doomed that very building.  

     The old giving way to the new, it is a cadence of life. 

        

REQUIEM

    Wilderness areas of the central California Coast are rich with ancient trees.

      Some are massive. As they come to the end of their sentry era, they sill afford visual power.

   As our pines reach the end, they go out with a last hurrah, creating a bonanza of cones.

    And in life or demise some of these giants play to the imagination.

  I wonder; as the old ad building held memories, do these old giants hold memories of the Salinan, Chinese or ancient explorers of this coast? 

  See you down the trail.