Abandoned In The Wilderness

The Cabezon Wilderness Study Area is a wild and beautiful place in north-central New Mexico. There are endless vistas dominated by volcanic plugs; there are deep cut channels of the Rio Puerco and its many tributaries; there are ruins of a long deserted Chacoan outlier; and there are roadside dumps where someone, at some time, decided that he or she could improve on the scenery by leaving what they no longer treasured to bake in the sun.

I assume that some of the trash that has been left here was discarded by former residents of the area–there are numerous small ranches and ruins of many more that are now slowly making their way back to the earth. The ruins will probably disappear long before the abandoned refrigerators, stoves, culverts, and other artifacts of human habitation that litter the landscape. Maybe we should just learn to accept it. After all it’s human nature to defile the only home we have. No other species has the means, the desire, or the audacity to deface and pollute the earth.

We already have become accustomed to such degradation-and perhaps we  even expect it-in the cities and towns where we gather and live in great numbers, but is it really necessary to leave traces of our arrogance in the wild places where our presence is, or should be, but a whisper?

Return to Bosque del Apache

My trip to Bosque del Apache NWR the weekend after Thanksgiving has become a tradition. This year’s outing was particularly rewarding, both because of the number of birds which were present and the number of high-quality images I was able to capture through a combination of tenacity and serendipity. This is an image of Snow and Ross’s Geese on Chupadera Pond which greeted us on Friday evening as we were entering the refuge. It represents just a small section of the expanse of birds that covered the water.

By the time we drove around the Farm Loop to the Flight Deck, close to fifty people-mostly photographers-were squeezed onto the platform. I jockeyed for position and began shooting. The cranes were landing at the northernmost end of the pond. I made this image as the sun was setting. I was struck by the bands of pastel colors which seemed to divide the scene into layers. Soon after the light was gone and we headed back to the motel for the night.

The next day, Saturday, we took a leisurely drive around both the Marsh Loop and the Farm Loop. At the north end of the latter, we found several hundred of the more than fourteen-thousand Sandhill Cranes that were estimated to be at the refuge that weekend. The two below are “dancing”;  such posturing is practiced from an early age to improve co-ordination, train flight muscles, and share emotions. Dancing is a form of social bonding in a family unit and is also a prelude to mating. For obvious reasons, this posture is called: “the jump”.

As we drove through the refuge, the cacophony of cries, hoots and wails from the birds reminded us that we were in an extraordinary place. As I mentioned earlier, there were more than fourteen-thousand cranes at the refuge at the time we were there, but there were also: eighty-seven-thousand ducks, fifty-seven-thousand geese, and a number of other avian creatures too numerous to count. Once again, as we had the night before, we found ourselves at the “Flight Deck” as sunset approached. This evening, however, we found a less crowded place from which to view and photograph the flight: a small, flat area at the north end of the pond, right at the water’s edge, where a couple of other photographers had already assembled. From this vantage point, we had an unobstructed view of the incoming cranes and, as most of them were favoring the north end of the pond, we were much closer to the action than we would have been on the deck. I made this image of a Sandhill crane as he stretched his wings shortly after landing. The sun was low and the light subtle.

Of all the times to photograph the birds at the Bosque, I think the best (and the most difficult) is at sunrise. On Sunday morning, we were at Chupadera Pond just before the sun came over the Oscura Mountains to the east. The cranes were beginning to stir, and as they performed their morning rituals, they had to pull their feet through a skim of ice on the pond. All the grooming, squabbling, dancing, and posturing is preparation for the morning flight when the cranes leave their watery roosts and take to the skies in search of food.

These two are exhibiting a behavior which signals an imminent take-off. They stretch their necks, leaning forward as if to test the wind before they pull the trigger and take wing. Usually the birds will then fly off to the fields, but sometimes, they will fly only a short distance and then return to the pond.

I captured this male as he was landing during one of these turn-arounds. There were several hundred birds at the Chupadera Pond that morning. We stayed and photographed their comings and goings for nearly three hours before the last of them finally flew off. As we left the pond, we decided to make one last drive around the entire loop, which includes both the Marsh Loop and the Farm Loop. Near the southern end of the marsh, I noticed movement in the diversion channel and pulled over. It was there that I found this Great Blue Heron hunting for his breakfast. I carefully got out of the car and set up my tripod and camera. As he moved up the channel, I followed him. Finally, we were both rewarded as he darted forward and came up with his morning meal.

As a photographer, I gain a great deal of satisfaction from images such as these. The ability to capture a fleeting moment and preserve it for others to enjoy is perhaps the ultimate reward.

The Birth of a Monster (The Las Conchas Fire) Part 1

On Sunday, June 26th I was at the Valle Grande Staging Area of the Valles Caldera National Preserve. I had taken a seasonal position working for the preserve. It was pretty much like any other day, except for the wind, the relentless wind, which was gusting up to 60 mph. A little after one o’clock, one of my co-workers rushed into the visitor’s center to announce that a fire had broken out at the Las Conchas Trailhead. Las Conchas is a popular spot; the East Fork of the Jemez River flows into a narrow slot before it continues on through high country meadows and finally plunges through a series of pools in a steep canyon. The natural thing was to suspect that someone had disregarded the closure of the Santa Fe National Forest-due to extreme fire danger, and had left a campfire unattended, or tossed a cigarette into the dry grass. It wouldn’t have been the first time (investigators would later discover that the fire was the result of an aspen tree, blown over by the wind, falling on a power line).

We all went out onto the porch to see what we could see. Las Conchas is about three miles west of the Valle Grande and, sure enough, there was a telltale plume of white smoke. Maybe I was being naive, or maybe I just didn’t want to believe it, whatever the reason, I told myself it was nothing to worry about–they would jump on it and it would be out before it had a chance to do any real damage. But then we watched as the fire started up the side of Los Griegos (a prominent feature on the rim of the caldera) and suddenly moved across the mountain as if someone had painted the flames with a brush.

Seven hours later I stood on my friend Robin’s deck and made this image of the smoke and evaporation cloud of what was now being called the Las Conchas fire. Because of the extremely dry conditions after a winter and spring during which we had had no appreciable moisture, the fire grew from its source and by the time I took this photo, it had consumed four thousand acres. By the end of the day, that number would increase tenfold. Driven by the wind at first and then, later, by the collapse of a smoke plume which had risen thousands of feet into the air (imagine dust bunnies scattering after a book has been dropped flat on the floor), the fire grew in all directions, consuming everything in its path: timber, wildlife, homes…

By Friday the fire had grown to nearly one hundred thousand acres and had become an organic presence. I made this image from the road which leads to Redondo Meadow where the initial Incident Command Post was. The large smoke plume was the result of the fire spreading onto Cerro Santa Rosa and consuming a fresh fuel supply.

As the days went by the residents of the nearby communities became used to waking in the morning to a smoke shrouded sky. The sun shown red through the haze and, at times the fire seemed too close for comfort.

I made this image looking up San Diego Canyon north of Jemez Springs a little over a week after the Las Conchas fire burst into our home and our lives.

A Stroll Through Ricketts Glen (Part2)

This is Part 2 of a two part post on Ricketts Glen. See A Stroll Through Ricketts Glen (Part 1).

After spending some time at Waters Meet, we crossed the bridge and began the climb up through Glen Leigh. This leg of the hike was a true test of my stamina–a seven hundred foot elevation gain in a little over a mile. The beauty of the place fortified me though and we had barely gotten started when we came upon Wyandot Falls.

And a little farther on we discovered this beautiful unnamed cascade which I dubbed Tranquility Falls.

I had the sense that Glen Leigh was much narrower and steeper than Ganoga Glen, but after studying a topo map of the area I discovered that they are both about the same near the bottom, but Ganoga does flatten out a little near the top. As we continued up the deep green canyon, we passed B. Reynolds and R.B. Ricketts Falls, and then came to Ozone Falls which, at sixty feet, is the highest waterfall in Glen Leigh. It cuts a graceful curve as it descends over the many layers which define its classic form.

After passing Ozone Falls the trail became noticeably steeper and narrower for a short distance. We stopped at Huron and Shawnee Falls and then continued up through the seemingly endless world of green and rushing water. When we finally made F.L. Ricketts Falls I was looking forward to the end of the trek. I set up a shot and then stepped back to look at my framing options when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see my camera on the tripod fall over and land lens down on the rock. I frantically picked it up to survey the damage. My heart sank when I saw that the Neutral Density filter was shattered. I tried to unscrew the filter to determine if my lens was damaged, but it was stuck, the outer edge of the filter was bent from the impact. I finally managed to loosen the filter and was relieved to see that the lens was undamaged other than some minor scuffs on the filter threads.

I replaced the ND filter and made the above image of the falls. Then I packed up my gear and we headed up the trail to the last waterfall in Glen Leigh, Onondaga Falls.

Onondaga resembles Sheldon Reynolds Falls in its shape and the way the plunge pool is formed. As I made this final image, I remember being exhilarated by the experience and although we were both physically drained, we made our way back to the car with a smiles on our faces, talking about the day’s adventure.

Ah Shi Sle Pah Wash

Ah Shi Sle Pah Wash is a place of silence, solitude, and visual overload. It is located northwest of Chaco Canyon in New Mexico’s San Juan Basin. There are no paved roads within twenty miles and in all the times I’ve been there, I have not seen another person.

Much like it’s bigger cousin, the Bisti Wilderness, Ah Shi Sle Pah Wash is a carnival of geologic attractions. There is eroded sandstone, shale, bentonite and petrified wood. There are hoodoos which defy description, and there are fossilized bones of creatures that roamed the earth millions of years ago

Because of the varying density and hardness of the stone which makes up the structure of the wash, there are variations in the degree of erosion. The result is that harder rock emerges from the side of the wash like some pre-historic dinner plate which was buried over 70 million years ago.

At the end of the Cretaceous period, this entire area, like the nearby Bisti Wilderness was part of a river delta. The deposits of sand, silt, and mud are what we now see emerging in their hardened state. Some of the more exposed sandstone has eroded to such a degree that it looks as though its bones are poking through its tough hide.

On the eastern edge of the wash is a small side canyon which contains an incredible hoodoo forest. It is the first sight that greets you when you start down into the wash. It has been etched into my memory, and is a reminder of the timeless yet fragile quality of our world.

Ah Shi Sle Pah Wash is currently a Wilderness Study Area. The old parking lot is closed to vehicle traffic. Visitors must park on the main road and walk a half mile to the place where the trail starts down into the wash. It is well worth the walk. If you do visit, please leave it as you found it.

The Wind, the Dust and the Bisti

It had been a couple of years since I last made the trip to the Bisti Wilderness. The Bisti is located in northwestern New Mexico between Farmington and nowhere; getting there is an adventure in itself. Last Sunday morning we began driving up US 550 past Cuba with the intention of going to Chaco Canyon, but the weather grew increasingly worse. The overcast spread until it formed an impenetrable curtain, which blotted out the sun. The wind began to gust, lifting the sand from the great expanse of the San Juan Basin, carrying it high into the air, adding to the dome of the darkening sky.

So, we just drove on past the turn off to Chaco. I guess I knew I was heading for the Bisti all along. When we arrived, the wind was blowing even harder, and the air was filled with swirling sand. We never went more than a couple of hundred yards from the car, but we were intrigued by the possibilities nonetheless. Every so often the sun would make an appearance through an opening in the clouds; we continued to make our short sorties into the landscape, and then back to the car for a respite from the wind and sand.

I made this image not fifty feet from the road. Just north of the small parking area at the foot of Alamo Wash there is a large deposit of eroded bentonite (minerals dissolved in a clay matrix). They are formed into small hills and many of them have these small stones on top of them; they look like offerings to some unnamed god.

At one point we pulled into a small parking area on the west side of the road, across from the main section of the wilderness area. The wind continued to howl, but we decided to venture into a draw that looked promising. Behind a large dome shaped hill, we discovered a garden of unearthly delights: sandstone and mudstone forms that seemed to go on endlessly. We were somewhat protected by the hill and the strange geology around us, so we stayed a while, exploring and making images.

I was hoping that the storm would abate. I wanted to hike out to the Egg Garden, but it’s more than a mile and a half from the parking area, the route is totally exposed, and the darkest part of the storm was centered over its location. The garden is an iconic location in the world of landscape photography. I made this image the last time I was there in 2009.

So, we continued to explore our newly discovered garden, taking shelter, when necessary, behind the strange monoliths. We spent a total of a little more than an hour dodging the sand and taking photographs.

But, the weather steadily deteriorated; the wind blew harder and the sand was stinging our eyes. I took these last two photos about five minutes apart. The sky was threatening rain. We made our way back to the car to leave, but only a few scattered drops fell as we drove out on the dirt road that is the only access to this incredible wilderness area.

 

A Stroll Through Ricketts Glen (Part 1)

I used to go to Ricketts Glen regularly when I lived in northeastern Pennsylvania. That was thirty-five years ago. I hadn’t been there since, until I made a recent trip back east with my oldest daughter, Lauren, to visit family. We set one day aside to hike and photograph the waterfalls in the park. Actually, there are two glens which make up the Glens Natural Area. They contain most of the twenty-two named waterfalls, numerous smaller unnamed falls and cascades for which the park is famous.

Adams Falls, the first waterfall we visited, is a big attraction even though it is quite a distance downstream from the main section of the park. When we pulled into the small parking area at 7:30 in the morning, there were already several cars parked there, all from out of state. A short walk on a well–maintained trail brought us to the falls. As soon as I saw them, I knew it was going to be a good day.

We spent about forty-five minutes at Adams scrambling around and taking photographs before we packed up and headed north into the Glens Area.

We began our seven mile “stroll” from the small parking area at the top of Ganoga Glen at about 8:30. The trail quickly descends into a world of dense green, and roaring water, but as we became accustomed to the sound, it quickly diminished to a pleasant sibilant whisper. After passing several small falls that are no more than 15–20 feet high, we sensed a sudden change in the timbre of the sound. We were approaching Ganoga Falls; at ninety-seven feet, it is the highest of the numerous waterfalls in the park.

Ganoga Falls is a classic “wedding cake ” waterfall. The stream drops and flows over the ledges and crevasses that form the increasingly wider layers of the “cake”. From the edge of the pool at the bottom of the falls, I made what I consider to be my best image of the day.

Not far downstream from Ganoga Falls, a small flow enters the main stream from the west. I followed it upstream a short distance to find this beautiful little cascade murmuring its way through a fern covered glade. The scene reminded me of an animated movie I watched with my daughters when they were young. Hence the name: “Ferngully”.

We continued down Ganoga Glen past several more waterfalls with names like Mohican and Tuscarora, and on to Sheldon Reynolds Falls, which was as far downstream as we would go. Sheldon Reynolds certainly isn’t as grand as Ganoga Falls, nor did it have the intimate, verdant feel of the small Ferngully cascade. It stands out, nonetheless, with its deep inviting pool and its singular profile.

We lingered for a while, enjoying the solitude and the scenery before heading back upstream to Waters Meet. It is here that the streams that course through Ganoga Glen and Glen Leigh come together. I set my camera on the timer function and took this photo of Lauren and me on the bridge at the confluence. We then enjoyed a picnic of fruit and trail-mix before beginning the climb up through Glen Leigh.

Landscape Photography On An Overcast Day

Everyone knows you don’t shoot landscapes on an overcast day. The light is too flat to get any depth in your images. Right? One of the things I learned a long time ago is: Learn the rules, but take them with a grain of salt.

One tool that is available to those of us who dabble in the digital realm is HDR or High Dynamic Range for the uninitiated. Normally, if you expose for the highlights in a contrasty situation, the shadows will be blocked up with little or no detail in them, and vice-versa if you expose for the shadows. By making a number of exposures 1/2 to 1 stop apart, a photographer can then combine those images to expand the dynamic range of the photograph–the dynamic range is the spectrum of tonal variations from pure black to pure white that can be captured by a camera. Another effect that can be achieved by combining multiple images is a heightening of contrast in an otherwise flat image.

On a recent photo excursion to the Ojito Wilderness, I had occasion to test the efficacy of this technique. We had started out on a partly overcast day to hike and photograph in a part of the Ojito known as the Colored Bluffs. The closer we got to our destination, the heavier the overcast grew until it obliterated the sun and the nice puffy clouds that had been there a short time before. We began our walk hoping for some better conditions,

As we reached the top of the mesa, the entire landscape changed and we were rewarded with incredible vistas in every direction. The light was still flat, but the visual cornucopia before us made that seem almost irrelevant. Everywhere I looked, there was an image just waiting to be captured. So, I happily started shooting, all the while telling myself that I would have to return on a better day. I realized right away that I would need to blend exposures to get the most out of the images I was capturing. I bracketed five exposures for each scene I shot.

This first photo was taken near the point where we emerged from the wash on top of the mesa. The colors were more saturated because of the overcast, and this dilapidated fence line seemed to invite me into the canyon.

As we continued along the trail, we came across this small clump of rabbitbrush, which was juxtaposed against the colored bluffs in the background. The plant was a contrast in the stark landscape, but it also provided a harmonious counterpoint to the scene.

We were constantly aware of the overcast and the declining sun, but we couldn’t seem to turn back. We had the “let’s just see what’s over that next rise” syndrome. Finally, we came to a high place on the trail which was our “turn back no matter what” point. This is the view looking northwest with Cabezon visible on the far horizon. A fitting climax to a wonderful journey of discovery.

We slowly made our way back towards the parking area. This is the view looking west where the bike trail heads down off the top of the mesa. I was excited about the images and exhilarated by the possibilities this place holds. I also confirmed my belief that it is possible to make passable, or even great images on an overcast day. All of these photos were shot RAW with initial processing in Adobe Lightroom. They were then blended in Photomatix Pro using the Exposure Fusion tool, and final processing was done in Adobe Photoshop.

The World At Your Feet

There was a time not too long ago when ninety-five percent of my photography was macro/close-up work. I made a conscious change to broader landscapes, and now ninety five percent of my images are landscapes. Go figure! Recently, while doing some research for a photography class I am teaching, I opened a book by John Shaw, one of the premier nature photographers of all time. One of the first things I noticed about John’s work is that he doesn’t just do landscapes, and he doesn’t just do macro/close-ups, he does it all, and he does it extremely well! So, I am now in the process of trying to strike a balance between the two.

Macro/ close-up photography has one big advantage over landscapes: you can do it in your own backyard. There is a world right at your feet. All you have to do is look.

I made this first image early one winter morning on my way to work. I was walking to my truck when I happened to glance down at the ground; there were all these amazing ice forms with some of the gravel showing through. It was just a matter of setting up my tripod and taking the shot.

Winter is a great time for this type of photography. I love the patterns that can be found in ice and snow. The image below was made in a friend’s driveway one winter afternoon. The arrangement of the leaves caught my eye, and again, it was a simple matter to set up the shot. I like the slight depression in the snow around the larger leaf; it adds a little depth to the image.

Sometimes it’s necessary to get down at eye level with your subject in order to find the image you’re looking for. I found this frozen weed stalk in my side yard one morning. The sun hadn’t hit that side yet, so the small plant was still covered with frost. I was kneeling on the frozen, snow covered ground while I framed and composed the shot, but I think it was well worth the effort.

Spring is another great time to find photos at your feet. The world is awakening after it’s long winter sleep, and there’s plenty of new growth which is still fresh, not yet ravaged by the elements or insects.

The above photo was made right next to a road in the Santa Fe National Forest, and the one below in the back yard of some friends. Both were taken with my Nikon 105mm macro lens mounted on a tripod

This last image has been a favorite of mine for a long time. It was made in my yard just after sunrise, again using my macro lens. All of these photographs, except for the second one which is a digital capture, were taken with a Nikon F100, using Fuji Velvia transparency film, and then scanned with a Nikon Coolscan V film scanner.

So, the next time you find yourself looking for subjects to photograph, don’t forget the small world which is as close as a step outside your door.

Pueblo Bonito Re-visited

The first time I visited Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon, I was overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude. I felt such a connection to the people who built this amazing place, and I silently thanked them for building it strong enough to withstand the ravages of time so I could stand in awe of their craftsmanship a thousand years later. This first image was made at the southeast corner of the pueblo.

Pueblo Bonito is the largest of a number of Greathouses in Chaco Canyon built by the ancestors of the present-day pueblo people of northern New Mexico. At the time it was built, the Anasazi’s territory covered a large area which spanned the entire Four Corners region. Chaco Canyon contained several pueblos, and is thought to have been a gathering place for religious ceremony and trading. Pueblo Bonito may have been used to house visitors as well as a large population of the local people. It was four to five stories high in some places, contained nearly eight hundred rooms, and was capable of accommodating  several thousand.

This is an image of one of the thirty seven kivas in Pueblo Bonito; two of them, the great kivas, were used for ceremony. The rest were used as gathering places, similar to our present-day family or living rooms. They were, for the most part, constructed underground –the word kiva means “world below”, and had roofs constructed of vigas, latillas, and mud. Access was by means of a ladder through an opening in the roof.

This image shows a section of the long, curving back wall of the complex. The builders who designed Pueblo Bonito used core and veneer architectural techniques, making the walls of the lower levels up to three feet thick.  These massive walls were capable of supporting more levels above as the structure grew in size over the centuries.

This last image was made from the top of the mesa behind the pueblo; it shows the entire complex, and the semi-circular design of the structure. The center wall divided the whole into two symmetrical halves, and was a design element in many of the pueblos of this era.

Sometime around 1150 CE, the ancient people began to migrate away from the area. Their sudden disappearance is attributed to several factors, including: climate change, topsoil degradation, and pressure from other cultures.¹

1. Wikipedia contributors. “Ancient Pueblo Peoples.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 9 Mar. 2011. Web. 10 Mar. 2011.

On Being Freshly Pressed

On Friday I had the honor of being “Freshly Pressed” by the editors of wordpress.com. I am still trying to read through all the comments I’ve been receiving on my blog because of that. I’m not sure I will be able to reply to them all, so I decided to write this post in response. I would like to thank the editors for choosing my blog to be freshly pressed; it is an honor, which I think comes with some responsibility. It’s not that I didn’t take my blog seriously before, but now I feel as though I have some expectations to live up to.

I would also like to thank everyone who has taken the time to view, comment on, tweet, and like, my posts, as well as all of you who have subscribed to my blog. It is quite a humbling experience to be acknowledged by so many from all over the world. I have visited some of your blogs, and I am amazed by the amount of talent and creativity that’s out there.I think this whole experience has made me realize (yet again) that we are all connected, and I don’t mean just through cyberspace.

I hope I can continue to take you to some of the places that you may not have the chance to see otherwise, and perhaps inspire some of you to visit them. Peace!

The Rio Puerco Valley

The Rio Puerco begins its journey to the Rio Grande high in the Nacimiento Mountains of northwestern New Mexico. Its course wanders through San Pedro Parks and the Santa Fe National Forest before leaving public lands near the village of Cuba. From there it follows the western edge of the Jemez Mountains past the village of San Luis, the ghost town of Cabezon, and Cabeon Peak. This first image was made along County Road 279 between San Luis and Cabezon.

The Rio Puerco is an ephemeral flow; most of the time there is no moving water in the deep arroyo that has been carved out over the ages. When there is enough water to fill the stream, it is usually a muddy brown from the sediment being carried by the “ flood”. I made this image after heavy rains transformed the channel at the place where BLM road 1114 crosses the Rio Puerco west of Cabezon Peak. It is my first attempt at HDR imaging; it may be a little over the top for some tastes, but I still like the effect.

A little farther south from this point, the Rio Puerco meanders past Cerro Cuate, and turns to the south. It is here that the river begins its journey through the Cabezon Wilderness Area. As the road begins to drop down to the edge of the wash, there is an expansive view of the valley with Cabezon on the left, and several other mesas and lesser peaks in the distance.

From here the road crosses the Rio Puerco and continues south following the course of the streambed, which, in places is more than a mile across. Several miles beyond the river crossing is the ghost town of Guadalupe, which thrived as a farming and ranching community from the early 1900′s through the 1950s, but drought and overgrazing forced the inhabitants to leave the area. Now all that remains are some dilapidated adobe ruins and some weathered corrals.

About three miles beyond the town, high on a mesa are the Guadalupe Ruins. There are about twenty rooms and three kivas at a location which commands a broad view of the valley to the north and the south. This was an outlier of the Anasazi Chacoan complex which thrived in the area from around 900–1150 CE. Like the people who inhabited the town of Guadalupe, the Chacoan people were also driven out by drought and resource depletion.

If you choose to visit this remarkable place, remember to respect the land and the people who have lived here: take only photographs, leave only footprints.

White Sands

White Sands National Monument in south–central New Mexico is  unique in many ways, but, by far, the most striking difference from the surrounding landscape is the sand from which the monument gets its name. It is actually gypsum that has washed down from the nearby San Andres Mountains. The gypsum, mixed with water flows on to a large playa (seasonal lake). As the water evaporates, the gypsum sand is left behind, and is then carried by the wind to become part of the dune field.

The White Sands dune field covers approximately 275 square miles of New  Mexico’s Tularosa Basin. A little over half of it is part of White Sands Missle Range; the remainder (approx. 115 square miles) comprises the monument. It is an amazing place where the vegetation, and the wildlife cling to life by the most tenuous of threads.

In the summer, daytime temperatures can reach over 100° F., and in the winter, they can plunge to below freezing. If you plan to visit, be sure to come prepared for any kind of weather, and carry plenty of water.

No matter what time of year you visit White Sands, you will be treated to an amazing landscape, and the opportunity to find solitude in the dunes.

Bosque del Apache

This was the scene at the farm fields at the north end of the Bosque del Apache NWR on Saturday morning. It is fairly typical for this time of year. Most of the birds have arrived for their winter stay at the refuge. On this particular morning there were 9,527 sandhill cranes, over 40,000 snow and Ross’s geese, 3 bald eagles, and over 300,000 ducks of various species. There were also innumerable LBBs (little brown birds), and an unknown number of deer, coyotes, bear, and other mammals. Oh yeah, and at least one mountain lion (one trail was closed due to recent lion sightings). All in all, a pretty respectable showing.

We had arrived the previous evening, and spent a couple hours on the “Flight Deck” watching and photographing the cranes flying back from the fields which surround the refuge to spend the night in the ponds where they are relatively safe from the predators (mostly coyotes) which are numerous in the Bosque. We were up and out the door at 5:30 in order to make it to the reserve for sunrise. It was cold–around 10°F, but there were at least twenty other photographers gathered at the edge of the Chupadera pond. I set up my tripod, and joined in the fun. As the sun rose, the cranes began to stir, and the cameras began to whir. I was suddenly reminded of the cold when my camera began to respond sluggishly, then stopped working. The shutter had frozen. I stood there helplessly while the birds took off and everyone around me continued to shoot. I’m not sure why mine was the only camera to succumb to the frigid temperatures, but I stubbornly tried, and tried again, to get the thing working even though I had another camera in the car not fifty yards away. I’ll have to work on that!

So, while I was busy trying to keep my camera working, Robin was next to me happily snapping away. She made this image just as the sun was starting to warm the scene with it’s golden light. Cranes go through a ritual before taking off. This one was stretching his wings in preparation for his first flight of the day.. The two birds on the right are just beginning the next stage: they face into the wind and stretch their necks, leaning forward. I think what they are doing is testing the wind, getting an idea of how they will get themselves into the air. This behavior is a signal to a photographer to be ready because take off is imminent. Well, any photographer with a working camera.

Next we headed into the refuge and turned south to drive the marsh loop. I was still toying with my camera and was happy to find that it was working again after thawing out. I had heard horror stories about shutters breaking after being frozen. It was shortly after this that Robin spotted this Great Blue Heron in the ditch on the west side of the road.

We stopped and spent about twenty minutes photographing him. He just stayed where he was, going about his business while keeping one eye on us. He finally spread his wings and flew off, and we packed up our gear and drove off, but we didn’t go far. About two hundred yards down the road, we came across hundreds of geese. They were in the marsh, and they would fly across the road to the field on the opposite side to eat, and then fly back across the road to the marsh. We spent quite a while watching them. Robin got the best photo.

The four geese on the left are Snow Geese, and the highest one is a Ross’s Goose. Collectively they are referred to as Light Geese. These five were flying to the field from the marsh.

We continued around the marsh loop, and on to the farm loop. We had just passed the Coyote Deck when we spotted several cranes flying low. We pulled over just as they landed on a berm between us and the flooded field beyond. This is one of them that seemed intent on watching us while the others went about their business. Perhaps he was the designated sentinel for the day.

Before we completed the farm loop, we made a stop at the Flight Deck to see if there was any activity there. Not surprisingly, there were no cranes or geese in evidence. There was, however, a lone bald eagle perched in “the tree” which stands out in the large pond in front of the Flight Deck. He spent quite a long time surveying his domain before taking wing to patrol the remainder of the refuge.

Bosque del Apache is undoubtedly a special place. I never tire of going there. The scenery combined with the thrill of seeing thousands of waterfowl and numerous raptors in one place at one time makes for a memorable trip.

Stone Echoes

This image shows some of the the amazing stone work at Chetro Ketl in Chaco Canyon. Seen against the backdrop of the canyon walls, it is not hard to imagine a bustling city with people going about their daily lives. It is also easy to see how the Anasazi took some of their building techniques from the world around them. These stone walls, some up to two feet thick, and interwoven, created an impregnable barrier to weather and enemy alike. They also provided a solid base for the two upper stories. In all, Chtro Ketl is thought to have contained 550 rooms in a complex that covered almost three acres.