Seeking a Photograph

Back on the road again in Utah
But first, an oldies but goodie...

The very first trick I learned, when I decided to try to take decent photographs, was to have two trees standing there to frame the image I was attempting to capture, cause this just naturally makes things work. Of course, the light has to be perfect, and sometimes that means you must wait an hour, or several, or even come back in April if you want to get it right.

I was just sitting at the table in our trailer, and I grew tired of staring at the magazine before me, even though it was a good magazine, and my eyes went to the window, and the image was right there. The view had been there all day, but with the descent of the sun into the west, the shadows worked their magic, and what had been beautiful, but a bit flat, suddenly emerged as breathtaking.

I used to wonder how folks could travel to wonderful places, and then look at them through windows. In self-proclaimed moral superiority, I camped out, using a tent only if sleeping under the stars was completely intolerable. I wandered about, outside in the air and sunlight, amidst the scents and sounds. But here I sat in the trailer, looking through a window at all this beauty. Had I gone soft?

Well maybe, just a little. But since the wind had been dancing through the campground with such enthusiasm that I hadn't seen a single bird beat their wings once as they sailed by, I will chalk this up to survival. Sitting outside on such a day could not be described as pleasant, while in the trailer we had merely been “well ventilated”

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but my editor will allot me only half that, and I have wasted most of those already. So listen carefully.

The two trees were some version of cypress I think, with many gnarled trunks and branches. Both had been modified by decades of wind blast. They leaned a bit. The sand dune past the trees blocked my view of the surf, but just a few degrees to the right the wind had charged the sea into foamed fury that beat on the beach at the mouth of the creek. The dune had been transformed by those aforementioned shadows into the image that so enthralled me, and the waving branches formed a living frame. Usually I have to move around to line things up, but this time it was simply perfect.

A bleached-gray wooden picnic table in the foreground lent perspective and depth. And the April-green vegetation donated color, along with the red leash we left tied to the table for tethering the dogs, even though we never used it. I stared at the scene, finding myself awed yet again by a place I have seen many times before. The raven that perched on the bush on the very top of the dune, and cast the perfect silhouette against the blue sky, was frosting on the cake. It was one of those take-your-breath-away moments that make all the rest worth tolerating.

Now, I suppose I could have simply snapped the photo, and sent it in instead of writing all that, but I kinda forgot the camera, so this will have to do.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I brought back this old column because I couldn't find the other. That other tried to explain the difference between a picture, and a photograph. In it I defined a picture as an image captured by a camera, most any image. Such an image could be that of Aunt Eunice at the church social, of the kids in the backyard, or those millions of memories from a million vacations. I saw value in pictures, which is appropriate since I've taken my share of pictures. More than my share.

A photograph on the other hand, had to be something better, or different, or even inspired. It had to be a capture of exceptional beauty, perfectly composed, perfectly lighted,,,,,,,exceptional beauty caught at an exceptional moment. A photograph was a picture that made you say, “Wow!”

Back when I found the time to take many pictures, I constantly aspired to capture photographs, and on occasion I did. Coming home, I paraded them before my friends, and some brought forth the “Wow!”. And my friends would ask, “Dude..... How do you take such beautiful photographs?”

Well, first you must travel to beautiful places.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Day three dawned quietly upon southern Utah. Twas hard to imagine that the state could harbor any beauty that could trump the previous day, but that piece of the Beehive State scheduled next would. I kinda knew this, because I had passed through once before, some twenty years earlier. I couldn't remember all the details, so there were moments that were as much a surprise to me as they were to Joie. So I made sure my camera was handy, and Joie saw that her phone was fully charged, for that is her camera of choice. Two steps out of the motel room door presented a striking mountain range catching dawn light to the north, and yet another red sandstone cliff to the south. Here we go again.

We motored past pleasant small farms, with the green of well-irrigated pastures and trees in autumn color. Streambeds glimmered with willow and cottonwood. The mountains around were tipped in snow. And here and there the exposed rocks of red, gray, and various purples poked their heads out to watch us speed past.

Where we had looked down into Bryce Canyon and its kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, on this day we looked up instead at the gather of garishly painted cliffs and towers in Kodachrome Basin. Several pixels bit the dust there.

We entered a sparse forest, leaving the colored rocks behind. My memory blurred, and I stated that all we'd have for the next two hours would be a pleasant cruise in the trees. My memory erred.

Shortly, large eroded cliffs and a curved canyon resplendent in riverbed and golden leaves led to the huge reef near the town of Escalante. Then we crested a ridge, and the viewpoint parking area beckoned. Pulling off the road, we noted that the view indeed opened. It spread before us in a 180 degree, toe tip to horizon explosion of beauty. While the engine ticked quietly behind us, we stood looking, silent, mouths gaping, forgetting to breathe.

Intense blue sky and fairy clouds. Hundred mile views. Colored rock in cliff and dome, patterns in the rock, rock carved by canyons, speckled with sparse green trees, the Grand Staircase lay naked in the sun. She was beyond gorgeous. And I remembered none of this from my last visit.

Our road pierced this wonder, narrow and sinuous, with the occasional guardrail when there was room, and else wise not at all forgiving of the careless. The view was on both sides as we dropped into the place. Each turn brought awe, ooo's and ahs, giggles. We each pointed out wonders at the same time, on opposite sides of the vehicle. We laughed. We may have cried at times. We lost our breath. Utterly spent, we followed the road as it climbed out of this wonderland, and then crawled the spine of a ridge with merely wonderful views that almost disappointed after that which we just left behind.

Neither of us had taken even one picture. The camera and the phone sat unused. We openly admitted that they were not up to the task. The place as a whole was simply too massive, too beautiful, too overwhelming. If we had a year, and could pick the best pieces, a million photographs lay hidden in the Golden Staircase for us to discover. But they would all be pieces rather than the whole of the place.

So we'll just have to go back and do it correctly.....soon.

Getting Away From It All

We were the only people in a Kaiser pharmacy designed to handle several hundreds in a day, so we expected to be in and out of there quickly. Seven in the morning didn't figure to be a busy time; the prescription offered nothing of consequence to prepare, but the staff there demonstrated the style of relaxed effort one associates with Post Office drones. They carried on with a lighthearted banter amongst themselves behind the counter, wasting little energy as they pretended to be busy. We sat in our chairs. Time passed. More time. Even more.

Oh, they were so cheerful. One....two....three pills.... Working, working, working. See, we're working.

Count the pills. Put the pills in the vial. Let the computer print a label. I've done that. I've done that a few thousand times. Every year. I know what it takes. They must be paid by the hour. It was early in the day in a hospital pharmacy, so no doubt they were tasked with first assembling the morning doses for all those folks in the beds upstairs. They had all night to do that, but likely some doctors were late with their orders. Time pressure on folks only interested in not breaking a sweat. Five pills for room 213 bed A. Three for 309, B. Don't give the anticoagulant anymore to the guy in 145 who has the bleeding ulcer, so take the time to read the directions on the computer screen. Oh, sooooo much to do. Can't stop to fill the prescription for those two sitting out there. Anonymous, insignificant people. Let them wait.

That…. is real power.

Forty-five freaking minutes waiting for one prescription. Good thing our time meant nothing. Good thing we weren't in a hurry. I watched as the spider wove the web extending from my knee to the chair beside me. Back and forth. Back and forth. The fly was caught and the spider leisurely finished breakfast. Grass sprouted. Steel rusted somewhere. Mountains grew taller.

The limited time remaining in my life diminished palpably.

We were not cheerful. Cranky bordering on desperate might better describe. Those people were burning our precious vacation time.

We'd hit the pharmacy on the way out of town. We REALLY wanted to get out of town. It was well past time for a vacation, and we churned that in our core. Too much pathos and tragedy. Too many people sucking the energy out of us. For too long. We needed a break. We NEEDED a vacation. We wanted it NOW! We really were not interested in listening to the cheerful banter of the very people who were preventing us from leaving town. They were building the Berlin Wall out of little pills, locking us away from freedom. We did not like those people.

Walking quickly out to the car, we looked up at the mountain trying to inject some calm and beauty into our morning. The first morning of our vacation.

The East County was once a pleasant place, an expanse of farms, pastures, orchards. Now it is a sea of roofs as far as the eye can see. Identical roofs. Every intersection has a Starbucks, a Subway, a hamburger place or two. The shopping center over there is considered a destination resort by the local ants.....I mean, residents. Like, wow! It has an In and Out AND Trader Joes. Movin' on up to the East Side.

The hospital pharmacy is on one edge of this scourge of suburban sprawl. Our job, should we choose to accept it was to negotiate our way out the other side.

Every intersection sports a set of traffic lights. There are several intersections. On this Saturday morning few vehicles sullied the scene. The road was wide open. We headed east. We should have easily escaped.

First gear, second, third...stop for light. First gear, second, third...stop for light. Repeat as necessary. Thanks, clever traffic engineers. I could sense our freedom out there somewhere, but I could not get there from here. First gear, second, third...stop for light. Every freaking light. A thousand stoplights. My fingers were bleeding as I scrambled up the hill only to slide back down. They've turned this place into hell.

We finally reached the Bypass.

Some folks think all this development is a good thing. I’m happy for them. I think the Bypass is a good thing. The Bypass lets me, uh...bypass the East County.

We crossed the bridge, heading north beside the river.

“Have you noticed? We haven't stopped for a stoplight for a while.”

“There aren't any stoplights up here.”

“Yeah! That's it.”

Once past Reno heading east, I could feel the cloak of oppression slip from my shoulders. Works this way every time. Behind us...Too many cities. Too many people. Too much civilization wears me down. Love the damn job, but it also wears me down. In front, as we left Reno in the dust, is all that nothing.

I like nothing. Ergo, I like driving across Nevada.

There is nothing there.

This was so good.

The little German car tripped along on cruise control, just a smidge beyond the speed limit. Nevada. Nothing but open road, mountains and endless long vistas, blue sky with entertaining clouds, the colors of desert in the autumn. The mountains were tipped with snow. The rabbit brush was yellow and all over the place. The aspen groves on the mountainsides were golden. The cottonwoods in the drainages had turned. We saw another vehicle every once in a long while. Hwy 50. The loneliest road in the nation.

Perfect.

Ely is only a short nine hour drive from home, but it seemed like the end of the world. The understatement of all time: Ely did not look, feel, nor act like...California. It proved we were on vacation. Cheap old motel. Decent take out Chinese food. Early to bed, and early to rise.

We awoke to a cold damp overcast hovering over the small, quiet town. We would be “in between” for the bulk of this day, so I topped off the tank with diesel. Still heading east. The first snowfall began in the first hour of driving. Climbing into the sparse juniper/pinyon pine zone that we love so much, we watched it snow. We were in heaven.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we came to a fork. We chose one.

We drove past the entrance to Great Basin National Park. Hadn't been up that road into the hills since 1979 and would have liked to do it that day, but the sign said, “Closed because of Tantrum”. Or something like that. Seems somebody elected a president who doesn't deserve a capital P in his title. He didn't get what he wanted, so he took his ball and went home.

The president was feeling peckish. He does that a lot. Barack is an angry man. He has succeeded in life despite having every advantage handed to him. He advanced where others failed because his skin has more color. He has benefited from everything that is good about this country, so of course he hates this country, and its people. Like many others so blessed, he wants to destroy this country. But, some stand in his way. Small wonder he is so edgy.

Sociopaths do that sort of thing. Don't know why Barack does.

Closing the national parks hurts the little people, the little people he feels should be kneeling gratefully before the throne. Some of course, do (kneel, that is). No accounting for taste. But Barack knows that many of those other proles stand in his way. In his vindictive mind, they deserve to be punished. This president thinks a little flogging would turn them to his way of thinking. Likely, he was surprised that they turned on him.

We passed by the park entrance and went on to view those parts of the country not denied us by our president. We found some good stuff. Highways 21 and 130 were simply wonderful, scenic and entertaining. We especially liked the triangular warning signs along the roadside that showed cows on skateboards. Gotta watch those counter culture bovines.

The road from Parowan to Brian Head was simply spectacular. A short spur road east into the national forest presented red sandstone cliffs and height of the season fall foliage. The top of the pass showed 10.2K on my altimeter watch and featured a scenic viewpoint into Cedar Breaks, which the president had also closed. We looked anyway, thumbing our noses at the falling snow, low temperature, and arrogant chief executive.

Continuing to Panguitch, we enjoyed golden aspen groves, pine forest, wondrous views off to the east, and the conspicuous absence of people.

That president tossed us a crumb (thank you sir; may I have another?), for when we reached Bryce Canyon National Park, the gates were open and manned. That bit worked in spite of him, so the notion that billions would soon go down the drain to plug the gaping holes in the president's failed health care experiment slipped out of mind while we could still see some of our country’s treasure. And Bryce is such a treasure.

Mommy Nature laid more snow on use, along with the cloud show as we burned up pixels trying to preserve the memories. Beauty beyond any description I might attempt to describe here was on display everywhere.

Cities and crowds, unpaid bills and taxes, biting dogs and bitching clients left far behind, we enjoyed our vacation that day.