tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82824090053333833862024-03-13T22:45:35.406-04:00View from the ExerdaThoughts and ruminations from John Nolley II, on everything from the trivial and mundane to items of earth-shattering importance.
As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-88692347171871308772024-02-03T14:07:00.000-05:002024-02-03T14:07:01.281-05:00A Nitpicker's Notes on "Chernobyl: Secrets, Lies, and Untold Stories"<p>While channel surfing (or, rather, streaming-service surfing) recently, I came across a documentary on the Chernobyl disaster, <i>Chernobyl: Secrets, Lies, and Untold Stories</i>. Though I watched it on HBO Max, it seemed like typical History Channel fodder--and the writing, research, and editing of this particular documentary left a lot to be desired.</p><p>I'm going to focus on one particularly-egregious statement made during the program:</p><blockquote><p>"Some scientists feared that if the nuclear fuel burned through the concrete floor to reach water tanks below, then a nuclear explosion would occur. One estimate said the blast could equal five million tons of TNT."</p></blockquote><p>There are simply so many things wrong with that statement that it's difficult to tease them all apart!</p><p>But before I dig into them, I need to cover a few of the basics of nuclear physics (don't be scared; I'll keep it very high level).</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><h3 style="text-align: left;">Some Nuclear Physics Basics</h3><p>It's been less than a century since some of the most fundamental discoveries of science that are necessary to understand why the program's statement was so wrong. First, you almost certainly learned in school that all matter is made up of atoms, and you probably learned that atoms are themselves are made up of smaller particles including protons, electrons, and neutrons--the latter not discovered until 1932 (!) by British physicist Sir James Chadwick. The neutron as you'll see is essential to understanding nuclear fission and with it why the statement made on <i>Chernobyl: Secrets, Lies, and Untold Stories</i> was so incredibly and fundamentally incorrect.</p><p>The number of protons in each atom determine what element that atom actually is; hydrogen has a single proton, carbon has 6 protons, and on the opposite end of the periodic table, uranium has 92 protons and plutonium 94. Protons have a positive electrical charge and sit in the atomic nucleus along with any neutrons (more on this in a moment), while electrons with their negative charges surround the nucleus. While protons define <i>which</i> element an atom is, electrons define how it interacts <i>chemically</i> with other atoms.</p><p>That leaves neutrons, which have no electrical charge (they're neutral, hence their name), weigh individually weigh about the same as a proton. Like protons, they're packed together into the nucleus and contribute to each atom's mass (weight, for laypeople). Recall that the number of protons is always the same for atoms of each element--one proton makes hydrogen, two makes helium, six make carbon, and so on and so forth. But the number of neutrons may vary, which doesn't change which element something is, or how it reacts chemically. Hydrogen, for example, can be a single proton and electron (which is the most common form of hydrogen), or it can include one or two neutrons. Atoms of the same element but with different numbers of neutrons are known as <i>isotopes</i>.<br /></p><p>I'm trying to keep this as high level as possible, so without getting too deep into the weeds of nuclear physics, understand that there are forces holding the nucleus together, but as that nucleus gets larger (either because it's a heavier element and thus has more protons, or, most especially, because it has more neutrons), it becomes less stable and more prone to breaking apart.</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Radioactive Decay</h4><p>Atoms that contain extra neutrons often undergo what's called <i>radioactive decay, </i>undergoing changes that over time make them more stable. Again, without getting into too much detail, this decay releases energy, and that energy, or <i>radiation</i>, is what makes radioactive substances dangerous. There are several types of decay, and they can change one atom into another (by impacting its number of protons), or from one isotope of the same element to another (by impacting its number of neutrons). </p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Nuclear Fission and the Splitting of the Atom</h4><p>Some large atoms are so unstable that they can break into large pieces (each a completely different atom), rather than just emitting energy and undergoing a relatively minor change through radioactive decay. This is where neutrons come into the picture.</p><p>Remember that neutrons increase the weight of a nucleus without changing it into a different element, and likewise increase the instability of that nucleus. An atom of Uranium-235, which contains 92 protons (like all uranium atoms) and 143 neutrons is teetering on the edge of instability, so adding another neutron turns it into the super-unstable Uranium-236, which almost immediately shatters. </p><p>One way it can break up is into an atom of Barium-144 (56 protons, 88 neutrons) and an atom of Krypton-89 (36 protons, 53 neutrons). If you do the math, you'll see that totals 92 protons between the two (the same as we started with), but only 141 neutrons. What happened to the other 2 that Uranium-235 started with, or the 1 we added?</p><p>They went rocketing off on their own! (Along with a lot of energy and thus heat, released when breaking the forces that held everything together.)</p><p>This particular fission reaction produces 3 high-speed neutrons, each of them ready and able to hit another Uranium atom and start the process over again--the "chain reaction" you probably heard in school, where each fission causes at least another fission to occur. If just 1 of the 3 strikes another Uranium atom and causes it to split, the chain reaction will keep going; the physics term used is that the reaction is <i>critical, </i>which usually requires a "critical mass" of fissionable material. Produce less new fissions, and the reaction fizzles out; produce more, and it accelerates in a positive feedback loop, rapidly generating more heat and energy.</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Fast Neutrons vs. Slow Neutrons</h4><p style="text-align: left;">You might be rolling your eyes by now at the physics lecture, but one more important point to grasp is that the neutrons produced during fission are <i>fast. </i>At high speed, they can easily travel beyond the nuclear fuel without striking another fissionable atom, with the impact (no pun intended) that they go to waste. (It's a bit more complicated than that, but I'm trying to keep this explanation as high level as I can.)</p><p style="text-align: left;">Enter what's called a <i>moderator</i>. When those free, speedy neutrons hit something, there's a chance they'll just be absorbed (atoms like those of cadmium and boron are great at sucking up free neutrons), but when hitting other atoms (like hydrogen or carbon), the neutrons bounce off--and slow down in the process. These reflective substances are called moderators, and by slowing down (and not absorbing) speedy neutrons produced by fissioning Uranium-235, they enable those neutrons to hit and fission more uranium atoms.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Okay--enough physics for the moment. It's time to pivot back to the egregiously-wrong statement presented by the documentary program, and my explanations should make a bit more sense.</p><span><!--more--></span><h3 style="text-align: left;">There Was Zero Chance of a "Nuclear Explosion"</h3><p>First, the most gross factual mistake: There was <i>never, ever, ever </i>a chance that a "nuclear explosion" would occur. Physics simply does not work that way, and no matter how poor the reactor design or grave the accident, there's not going to be a nuclear explosion. Let's stop for a moment to consider why.</p><p>Nuclear explosions require bringing together a critical mass of fissile material in a very short period of time, using highly-enriched uranium or plutonium and not typical reactor-grade fuel. You need a critical mass so that each fission causes at least one additional fission, and you need to achieve that critical mass in a very short period of time lest the heat and energy produced by that fissioning force the whole thing apart before it can create a nuclear explosion.</p><p>Without getting too far into the weeds of nuclear weapon design, this is achieved by high explosives forcing together the necessary materials in a fraction of a second. The simplest atomic bomb design, which the United States dropped on Hiroshima at the end of World War II, achieved this by shooting one chunk of highly-enriched uranium down a gun barrel into another target piece of uranium, slamming them together with explosive force and speed. Almost all bombs designed since then implode hollow spheres of plutonium--again, something that requires incredible speed and explosive force. This happens in fractions of a second, and soon after, the tremendous heat and energy blows the whole thing apart--stopping any further fission as the remaining uranium or plutonium atoms suddenly find themselves too far apart to blast each other with any more neutrons.</p><p>With a nuclear reactor, there's simply no way to shove enough fissionable material together <i>and keep it together</i> long enough for it generate a nuclear explosion.</p><p>There <i>were </i>however two things that were legitimate concerns regarding molten nuclear fuel dropping into a large reservoir of water, neither of them being <i>nuclear </i>explosions:</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">A Steam Explosion</h4><p>Hot, molten fuel would cause the water in those bubbler tanks to boil very, very quickly, producing a lot of steam and pressure with nowhere to go. This steam would expand and do everything it could to spread out, forcing everything around it to expand along with it with explosive force. Instead of being concentrated in radioactive lava deep inside the reactor's wreckage, a huge amount of intensely-radioactive waste would be spread into the air--both by the physical violence of the explosion and the fact that many radionuclides would dissolve into the water and thus be carried away by the steam itself.</p><p>Coupled with this was the risk of another <i>hydrogen explosion</i>, triggered as the intense radioactivity of the fuel along with its heat and chemical reactions with water broke down that water into hydrogen and oxygen. As any kid who sat through a middle school science lab or watched <i>Mr. Wizard</i> (I'm dating myself here) knows, hydrogen is flammable and explosive, and with all that oxygen nearby and heat, it's going to go boom.</p><p>These would have been disastrous consequences which would have spread much more contamination and could have wreaked havoc on the other, still-operational reactors on site--something we saw at Fukushima. The fallout would have spread over a much larger area of Europe.</p><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Re-criticality of the Fuel</h4><p>The second risk of dropping the reactor's fuel into a large pool of water <i>is </i>nuclear in that the fuel could start fissioning again, just like it was in an operating nuclear reactor core, producing more heat and radioactivity. This would not lead to a nuclear explosion, but it would be an unconfined, active nuclear reactor, broadcasting intense radiation outward and generating more radioactive waste. The ensuing heat and radiation surges would also generate more steam and associated risks of steam and hydrogen explosions.</p><p>Why this is circles back to the brief lesson in nuclear physics I laid out above.</p><p>This is where water comes in: Water has a lot of hydrogen in it, and each time a speedy neutron strikes a hydrogen atom, it bounces off and slows down a bit. And the slower a neutron gets, the more likely it is to strike and fission a uranium or plutonium atom. Most nuclear reactors rely on moderators like water or graphite to slow down those speedy neutrons so that they can trigger more fissions--maintaining that "criticality" where the reaction continues, producing heat that is used to generate electricity.</p><p>The melted nuclear fuel burning its way through the Chernobyl reactor's concrete floors was highly radioactive, but it wasn't generating a self-sustaining chain reaction of fission. The neutrons it generated were too fast and energetic. But dumping that fuel into a large pool of water would slow down those neutrons, and they'd start triggering more fissions in an ever-increasing chain reaction.</p><p>It's physically impossible for water to create the kind of chain reaction that generates a nuclear explosion--but it's still not great for the molten fuel to continue to generate its own heat and radiation, bathing everything nearby in a lethal barrage of x-rays, gamma rays, beta rays, alpha particles, and neutrons (which can cause common materials to themselves become radioactive).</p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Five Million Tons of TNT "Estimate" Deserves a LOL</h3><p>The notion that anyone "estimated" that the fuel falling into the water beneath the reactor would generate an explosion equivalent to <i>5 million tons of TNT</i>--that's 5 <b>megatons</b>--is absolutely nonsensical. </p><p>Five megatons is a moderate-sized thermonuclear weapon. For comparison, the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima during World War II was 15 <b>kilo</b>tons, equivalent to 15 thousand tons of TNT, or less than 1/300th the claimed 5 megaton explosion. The largest nuclear warhead in the United States' arsenal today is "only" 1.2 megatons.</p><p>And no, I'm not going to explain how thermonuclear weapons work--it would take us well off into a lengthy tangent--other than to say there is physically no way to use <i>just</i> nuclear fission to achieve an explosion of that magnitude; it requires nuclear <i>fusion</i>, which is a completely different process and which does not occur inside nuclear reactors. </p><p>So either these unnamed "scientists" who provided the "estimate" were somehow suggesting a thermonuclear explosion--something again which was completely, entirely impossible--or they were overestimating how large of a steam explosion could be generated by several orders of magnitude.</p><p>For comparison, one of the worst nuclear disasters in history, the Kyshtym disaster (also in the Soviet Union) involved a massive chemical explosion within nuclear waste storage tanks, an explosion with the force of... 70 tons of TNT. Not kilotons, not megatons. It was a massive explosion that spread nearly as much nuclear waste across parts of Russia as did the Chernobyl disaster, yes, but it's insane hyperbole to talk about thermonuclear-sized explosions here. The largest conventional bomb the United States has used, the "mother of all bombs" or MOAB, explodes with the force of about 11 tons of TNT--nearly 500,000 times less powerful than the 5 megatons the program mentioned.</p><p>I can't fathom even a massive steam and combined hydrogen explosion reaching 5 megatons. Even had the entire core fallen at once into the water and transferred all of its residual heat to the water at once (defying the laws of physics on several levels), it wouldn't be on the same order of magnitude as 5 megatons.</p><p>If I were inclined to be generous, it's possible that someone suggested that the amount of additional fallout generated by the molten fuel striking the water and triggering a steam explosion would have been similar to that spread by a 5 megaton thermonuclear explosion, or maybe 5 megatons worth of smaller nuclear bombs set off together. Certainly there are literal tons of radioactive materials that would have been thrown into the air from a steam explosion of that scale, but there are issues with such a comparison, too.</p><p>First and foremost, the amount of fallout from a given nuclear bomb explosion varies significantly on factors like whether the explosion occurred close to the ground or in mid-air, and the configuration of the bomb itself. An explosion closer to the ground will kick up a lot of dust, much of it made radioactive by the intense neutron bombardment of the explosion itself. Likewise, a bomb that generates most of its yield from fission rather than fusion will generate more radioactive fallout--what portion of the yield comes from the "dirty" fissioning of the heavy uranium shell or "tamper" surrounding the core thermonuclear bomb, and how efficient the bomb is, mean that two different bombs with the same yield but different designs can generate widely different amounts of fallout. So does that "fallout equivalent to a 5 megaton nuclear bomb" explanation assume a ground burst of an exceptionally "dirty" weapon, or a "cleaner" airburst of an efficient bomb getting most of its yield from fusion? Who can say, when we're talking "one estimate" made by an unnamed someone?</p><p>That leads me to the second point: That it's more accurate to talk about the amount of radioactivity released, not the yield of the bomb in explosive force, when describing fallout from either a bomb or a reactor disaster. Units like curies and becquerels that describe how many radioactive decays occur per second for a given atomic isotope are used--though yes, they're a challenge to grasp ("What does it mean that 85 petabecquerels of cesium-137 was released by Chernobyl?") and I can see the appeal of, "Well, compare that to fallout from, say, the bomb dropped on Hiroshima!"</p><p>However, we're talking about a documentary, where statements should be as accurate as possible; had the program wished, they could have said, "Estimates of the fallout would have exceeded 300 times that released from the bombing of Hiroshima!" and it would have been both relatable to a general audience <i>and</i> more accurate.</p><p>Finally, fallout from a reactor and a nuclear bomb are actually quite different things, and in some ways, the fallout from a relatively "clean" nuclear bomb could be <i>less bad</i> than from an accident like Chernobyl or the Kyshtym disaster. Nuclear fuel that's spent a long time in the reactor--as was the case at Chernobyl--includes large quantities of isotopes that have high environmental burdens, persisting in the soil, air, and water, as well as within our bodies--whereas those produced by a nuclear bomb tend to decay away fairly quickly. Plus, a large reactor like Chernobyl's Unit 4 has literal tons of radioactive fuel contained within it, whereas even a huge thermonuclear bomb contains only a few dozen <i>pounds</i> of radioactive material (absent that produced by the explosion, e.g. irradiated soil and rock from a ground-level explosion). Spreading those tons of fuel out over a large area isn't great.</p><p>As it stood, the disaster released and spread at least half of the most dangerous radioactive isotopes contained in the core, with 60% of the radioactive iodine-131 and 40% of the cesium-137 spread as fallout. That means that at worst, twice as much fallout from these isotopes could have been released, though spreading it dissolved in water that was then vaporized and hefted aloft would have meant it traveled farther and affected a larger area. (Only about 3-4% total of the fuel itself escaped into the environment, which was still over 6 tons.)</p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Who Are these "Scientists" Cited?</h3><p>Using weasel words like "some scientists" and passive voice ("one estimate said") easily hide a great many issues, including making it difficult to identify and challenge those claims. Were these scientists nuclear physicists, for example? And how many are "some?" Who estimated the effects would be equivalent to 5 megatons of TNT?</p><p>As I've already pointed out, there are physical impossibilities that anyone with a basic grasp of nuclear physics should have grasped, much less anyone of expertise. And while even the experts get things wrong--scientists truly didn't know how melted fuel from a reactor the size of Chernobyl's Unit 4 would behave, with legitimate concerns that the melted fuel might concentrate into a compact, efficient improvised reactor as it collected in the bottom of the structure, generating more and more heat through re-criticality and fission and thus burning deeper into the ground, potentially contaminating ground water and triggering more steam explosions along the way--I find it unfathomable that they'd have ever come up with a scenario of a nuclear explosion.</p><p>The program did feature several actual scientists and experts, including eyewitnesses who had been at Chernobyl and who participated in the disaster response. These segments were by and large very good, and what I'd expect to see in a documentary. One British scientist showed a re-creation of the "corium," or molten reactor fuel mixed with concrete, steel, and other parts of the reactor that the blazing-hot fuel melted, a natural segue into talking about the "Elephant's foot" (a famous bit of hardened fuel "lava" found spilling from pipes deep in the reactor's basement) and the dangers of a steam explosion had that molten fuel struck the water beneath the reactor.</p><p>Instead, we got the factually wrong scaremongering weasel-worded statement that drove me to write this blog entry.</p><span><!--more--></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">Conclusions and Thoughts</h2><p style="text-align: left;">I've been fascinated by the history of both nuclear energy (and nuclear weapons) for a long time, including the often-unknown stories of nuclear disasters. Yes, everyone has heard of Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and Fukushima; fewer of the Kyshtym disaster, or the SL-1 steam explosion in remote Idaho (which killed three soldiers), and likely even less the Tokaimura fuel reprocessing accident (which killed two employees), the "demon core" criticality accidents that killed two American scientists, or the countless far more minor incidents that fill the unknown histories of nuclear fission.</p><p style="text-align: left;">From that standpoint, I applaud a documentary that delved deeply into the former KGB files surrounding the Chernobyl accident. Revealing hidden aspects of the events that led up to the disaster, along with the human notes of the response, is fascinating. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Nuclear physics is a complex subject in a complex branch of science that few of us spend much time thinking about or understand very well. However, that is not an excuse to include egregiously-wrong mistakes (apparently intended for their sensational impact) in a program covering the events of the Chernobyl disaster--spending even a few moments in the hour-plus program on the physics would have been a wise investment of time and programming. Perhaps the segment would not have been as sensationalistic, but it would have been more accurate, and instead of being scary--Chernobyl was scary enough as it was!--would have been informative.</p><p style="text-align: left;">To that point, I hope my overview was clear, and apologize in advance for any errors or omissions I made in attempting to explain the basics above!</p><p style="text-align: left;">Personally, I'm ambivalent on nuclear power. As an environmentalist, I see the need to move away from using stored ancient sunlight (in the form of oil and coal and natural gas) as our primary sources of energy. I also see the downsides and impacts of many "green" energy solutions: For example, hydropower dams destroy habitat, potentially killing many species who rely on rivers that freely run, and they pose risks to communities downstream should they fail. Wind turbines can kill migratory birds and impact the behavior (and thus lives) of many animals living near them. Solar panels require polluting mining and manufacturing, both for the panels and batteries needed to store their power, and their installation in large-scale "farms" can disrupt habitat.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Likewise, nuclear power runs the risk of large disasters that contaminate broad areas for hundreds of years, and reactor operation generates waste that is dangerous for thousands of years. Nuclear reactors are complex pieces of technology which like any complex systems can fail in unexpected ways--the least of which being by human error. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Yet coal mining destroys huge amounts of habitat and pollutes even more, and operation of coal power plants dumps toxins like mercury into the air and leaves behind radioactive ash. Natural gas is a potent greenhouse gas--methane is far more so than carbon dioxide, so any that leaks during production and transport, and any that burns incompletely during power generation, is even worse for global warming than the carbon dioxide generated by burning coal, gas, or oil.</p><p>I'm not one of the techno fan bois or "nuclear bros" who shout that nuclear power is far safer than any other power source, nor would I be comfortable with a nuclear power plant right next door (just like I don't want to live right next door to a coal-fired power plant). There are design problems with our current nuclear reactors--designs which haven't changed much in nearly 70 years--and as we saw at Chernobyl and Fukushima, disasters involving nuclear power are hard to control and clean up. The Chernobyl disaster was one of the straws that broke the Soviet Union's back, with the economic cost alone nearly bankrupting the once-superpower. But I am certain there is a place--indeed, a necessity--for nuclear power in our modern society.</p><p>Whether it involves "breeder reactors" that create more fuel than they consume (transforming common Uranium-238 or even-more-common Thorium-232 into fissile fuel to continue to power reactors), spent fuel reprocessing (only a small percentage of fuel is "burned" during normal reactor operations today, with the rest contaminated by highly-radioactive waste and stored), or whether it will require a new generation of reactor designs is yet to be seen. The engineering needed to scale up these technologies is not trivial, and statements that a given design is "fail safe" ring hollow given the truism that complex systems will experience unexpected failure modes. But we need energy for our society, need it to maintain every part of our daily lives.</p><p>To that end, an accurate understanding, even at a layperson's level, of what actually occurred at Chernobyl is something that serves us all well.</p>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-20418017133769229272022-08-22T18:06:00.006-04:002022-08-29T21:36:10.271-04:00House on the Rock - An Inspiration for Nightmares<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaifd3DDO-QUczTOcDphBt1VmKdTS_8nUxJp4SeZkNzZ1fQ6Qjw0zlmsmcKjeImwsrdeYmKHQUaoSspO7hrz_rmh5TnRgwlxyNKr8Q_zgHKKHHKfLddLEvAsUnjOb8I1LZbIOU05nj7vzWHehEkvhTWwwL7JopnnHIUw70rqGGaDKvUwBv9Zyck2nA/s6000/_A6A1320-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaifd3DDO-QUczTOcDphBt1VmKdTS_8nUxJp4SeZkNzZ1fQ6Qjw0zlmsmcKjeImwsrdeYmKHQUaoSspO7hrz_rmh5TnRgwlxyNKr8Q_zgHKKHHKfLddLEvAsUnjOb8I1LZbIOU05nj7vzWHehEkvhTWwwL7JopnnHIUw70rqGGaDKvUwBv9Zyck2nA/w640-h426/_A6A1320-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div><p>The phrase "roadside attraction" somehow has over the years become associated with things like the "World's Largest Ball of Twine," and perhaps the jaded traveler would be inclined to pass on by such remnants of an era where Americans first took to the roads in large numbers. Who stops today to see the Weeki Wachee Mermaids, the Jolly Green Giant, or the World's Largest Fish Statue? Let me be clear: Driving on past Wisconsin's House on the Rock would be a grievous mistake.</p><p>Located just over an hour outside of Madison, the House on the Rock sits, well, atop a rock. According to legend, founder Alex Jordan, Jr., fell in love with Deer Shelter Rock and began picnicking atop the 60-foot-tall stone pillar, eventually asking permission from the local farmer--after he'd already begun construction of what would become the original house. Jordan comes across as a combination P. T. Barnum with the reclusive eccentricism of Howard Hughes; he claimed to have built most of the original structure himself with only the assistance of a couple of friends, when more likely his family paid locals, sometimes offering wages in whisky to homeless and out-of-work bums. Legend claims that Jordan built the home after having been spurned by master architect Frank Lloyd Wright (whose home Taliesin is less than 15 minutes away in Spring Green)--a legend almost certainly impossible and spread by Jordan's associate Sid Boyum, as Alex would have been 9 years old at the time and Wright working in Japan. Even <a href="https://www.thehouseontherock.com/wikipedia-is-wrong-learn-the-true-history-of-house-on-the-rock-2/" target="_blank">House on the Rock staff itself refutes that story</a>, and it's likely a product of Sid Boyum's fabled fibbing (he once won the "World Champion Liar" award).</p><p>Regardless of legend and tall tales, the House on the Rock is an amazing testament to eccentricity and kitsch with no small degree of nightmare tossed in. Whether you look at it as a journey through one man's troubled mind, a canvas for his storytelling, or just a collection of moldy, weird junk, it's got to be one of the top roadside attractions in the US and should be on everyone's list to visit.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFhCS1KEipTmYQXICBloHcVI1341NPM4nN-HtHZYfjFTqzYPqe1oNTJaJcHInkODKoX-8Fph3FWRzbFr8vv5vGvgUVzeF-0SGjCm95dvc2445Oq7RKn2gKUKw0aECMOv3VRQg-v76m-n7Ua4jxYczdmWsq2yWtkk4obgiC3cj7PchLUurSt3lYeVy/s4573/_A6A2006.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4573" data-original-width="3049" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFhCS1KEipTmYQXICBloHcVI1341NPM4nN-HtHZYfjFTqzYPqe1oNTJaJcHInkODKoX-8Fph3FWRzbFr8vv5vGvgUVzeF-0SGjCm95dvc2445Oq7RKn2gKUKw0aECMOv3VRQg-v76m-n7Ua4jxYczdmWsq2yWtkk4obgiC3cj7PchLUurSt3lYeVy/w426-h640/_A6A2006.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many lizard-covered urns that make up a recurring theme on the grounds outside House on the Rock</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Driving onto the grounds reveals landscaped gardens with a recurring Asian motif, including dragons and lizards capering across large urns that line the roadside and parking lots. Entry tickets run about $30, and the facility opens at 9:00am most of the year. I suggest arriving at opening, as you'll likely have many of the early exhibits to yourself as the crowds don't begin showing up until closer to lunchtime. As the exhibits take a minimum of 2 hours to walk (I spent 5 hours), the last entry is at 3:00pm and the facility closes at 5:00pm (though you can also purchase an evening ticket to visit after 6:30, advertised as a creepier alternative). Your tickets include 4 tokens, and you can purchase more at either the ticket desk or at a few locations throughout the grounds. Tokens, you ask? You'll need them to operate the many automaton dioramas and animated musical displays--you'll probably want to pick up a few more (they're only 25 cents apiece).</p><p>Supposedly the House on the Rock sells several levels of ticket, but the Ultimate Experience is the only one to consider. It includes entry to all sections of the grounds. I don't know why anyone would take the original-house-only tour or the version that excludes Section 3 simply to save a couple of bucks.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Section 1: The Asian Garden, Alex Jordan Center, Gate House, Original House, and Infinity Room</h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOuDJLgIAMcUghP8U59abF1uX3UpehFNEVDAT8yhFHsa3ZJ7lAfzDyBH5raLY1KaO95ytR-NzbaItAlRa1jNKRA0o8F4kpehnuTEeqI5SPlAXUPrTG82mjMAwslHKpkr1XqzWo1fBg8H76Q9yUntNqV_AyDKYIQKAlXRxlwsqz_hnQ4ANpoZf1WIZZ/s5940/_A6A0491.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3960" data-original-width="5940" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOuDJLgIAMcUghP8U59abF1uX3UpehFNEVDAT8yhFHsa3ZJ7lAfzDyBH5raLY1KaO95ytR-NzbaItAlRa1jNKRA0o8F4kpehnuTEeqI5SPlAXUPrTG82mjMAwslHKpkr1XqzWo1fBg8H76Q9yUntNqV_AyDKYIQKAlXRxlwsqz_hnQ4ANpoZf1WIZZ/w640-h426/_A6A0491.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entryway and gardens of the House on the Rock</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The grounds are gorgeous, and the gardens themselves worth a few minutes of your visit, particularly if visiting spring through fall. There's both an "Asian Garden" out front, between the welcome center and the Alex Jordan museum, as well as a somewhat-traditional Japanese garden toward the end of the tour. The architecture is reminiscent at times of that of Frank Lloyd Wright, but quickly diverges into a mishmash of styles that would have left the fabled architect aghast. </p><p>I'd describe the property's layout best as a rabbit warren, worst as the minotaur's labyrinth, as passages twist and turn both throughout the individual buildings. Even the original house atop the rock is a collection of rooms flowing one into another, stairs and ramps and halls seemingly wrapping with little rhyme or reason around each other. That's true of the exterior as well, with a series of covered open-air walkways that cross over and beneath each other in places zig-zagging between buildings.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEeW4baDhdhyTZe9eCW0AMDIvsUKtIiTZIFx9l9_d7KP-fgeWYZ_DCeELCW9PW6ESKZzLHQLfQD3BgPgqR8LxJFQbBz9e7vwcPZ-1YK7IVlIZpF1bvRG1oYoYx57vrZm4QH4c0_GA9ARAo0-AsxHNXkjoHqqpsQf_1qKUV4nu-P0AyqczxgTzUxhl/s6000/_A6A0665.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEeW4baDhdhyTZe9eCW0AMDIvsUKtIiTZIFx9l9_d7KP-fgeWYZ_DCeELCW9PW6ESKZzLHQLfQD3BgPgqR8LxJFQbBz9e7vwcPZ-1YK7IVlIZpF1bvRG1oYoYx57vrZm4QH4c0_GA9ARAo0-AsxHNXkjoHqqpsQf_1qKUV4nu-P0AyqczxgTzUxhl/w640-h426/_A6A0665.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Covered passages that crisscross the property: I'm standing near the original house atop the rock, looking down at the exit from the Carousel Room and parts of the walkway which then wind back up, beneath the bridge to the original house, past the Japanese Garden, and back to the gift shop and ultimately the welcome center again.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The Alex Jordan Center is the first building beyond the welcome center and serves as something of a museum and introduction to the rest of the property, with a bit of history (which one must look at through a huckster's eyes, with a generous grain of salt--though the most hyperbolic claims have been downplayed and corrected since the 80s after legal action!) and samples of many of the sorts of items that can be found throughout the exhibits: Asian sculpture (often personally crafted by Jordan and his workers), carousel animals and busts collected from around the world, automatons (including self-playing musical instruments), imitation Tiffany lamps, and more. Jordan's passport is on display with the claim he only traveled internationally once and only for a 2 day trip--hard to imagine given the breadth of styles and artifacts featured within the home, but apparently true, as he borrowed international styles as he saw them, not necessarily as they actually are. </p><p>The one big difference with the small, curated exhibits in the Alex Jordan Center is the bright light: Most of the remainder of the day will be spent in near-darkness lit only by the exhibits themselves, with the exception of short ventures outdoors.</p><p>Exiting the museum leads to the "hub," where the normal first course is the "Gate House," a structure with incredibly low ceilings to have been built by a man who claimed 6'2" in height. It's a tight fit for me at 2 inches taller than that (I had to hunch over passing through the Gate House), but a fitting introduction to the original house to come. From the Gate House, there's a long covered ramp and bridge that leads onward.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD8F436qEi6N2vSaNkLFwLGeJyj2PX-fECXTn1KZh72Cw468zoVlEEL86p1XwAhvdz0EVFIa7eAVkvRtOfvX3XqictlOo4Fz7ScCPdCm51cMLGXeVtAXaVdbAn3BBwdM5JTuPi0DWdhTExgDN2RMpV3IMpFCGMi14zNoYB4G6lItR4zyuWyN8xZTR/s6000/_A6A0586.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD8F436qEi6N2vSaNkLFwLGeJyj2PX-fECXTn1KZh72Cw468zoVlEEL86p1XwAhvdz0EVFIa7eAVkvRtOfvX3XqictlOo4Fz7ScCPdCm51cMLGXeVtAXaVdbAn3BBwdM5JTuPi0DWdhTExgDN2RMpV3IMpFCGMi14zNoYB4G6lItR4zyuWyN8xZTR/w640-h426/_A6A0586.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably the largest single room in the original house features cozy couches arranged around a series of fireplaces</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The inside of the original house includes several seating areas furnished in a style somewhere between Austin Powers and a 1960s Sears catalog. I can easily imagine parties of swingers and flowing booze (and possibly not a few acid trips) shared before the structure became the roadside attraction and tourist magnet that it is today.</p><p>Again, there are aspects of Frank Lloyd Wright's prairie style architecture on display, including the impressive cantilevered windows and the stone-stacked walls and structures, built to flow around and mirror the natural rock and its environment, though in places those touches approach farce, with fake birch trees "planted" growing through the structure and streams appearing to flow through the roof into some of the rooms.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPQbB2wRB0ILHT_XfrOowpHYSU8GeSXD6Ov40IFh641jSM8TrdTYMWxDVjDwYSn2NR-AiKpqBrG4SzqUAuYUGd2_vdw3XWOukbq0BBuoDC-0TTelRmdtHDfg8I-dw2GAg80XMepgp71EiMSsrL5r7fipwFcrxYzRh_mmagpnR1ISoKYMBQLMODcEk/s6000/_A6A0624.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPQbB2wRB0ILHT_XfrOowpHYSU8GeSXD6Ov40IFh641jSM8TrdTYMWxDVjDwYSn2NR-AiKpqBrG4SzqUAuYUGd2_vdw3XWOukbq0BBuoDC-0TTelRmdtHDfg8I-dw2GAg80XMepgp71EiMSsrL5r7fipwFcrxYzRh_mmagpnR1ISoKYMBQLMODcEk/w640-h426/_A6A0624.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Tiffany" lamps are typically Bauer & Coble imitations--but still look quite nice. Not sure about the mulch and "trees" growing up through the home, though.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2z6ZmSzUVgJ9E4npkLzKwgXl9ONUDX-vXp_8jnXzQHPu16g8qzW42PXVvVWJidPgspSGTHvLp_jmHeTAf7xIKR3Fvlp0BICI1qdg-rTQaGqyBTXsZWWY_vDsrOsDl-4-Yre1GoliZneh0YVzsOC1sychOyaVdAwfT9_SNnHlBOI4iJtW9vaL6v89O/s6000/_A6A0661.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2z6ZmSzUVgJ9E4npkLzKwgXl9ONUDX-vXp_8jnXzQHPu16g8qzW42PXVvVWJidPgspSGTHvLp_jmHeTAf7xIKR3Fvlp0BICI1qdg-rTQaGqyBTXsZWWY_vDsrOsDl-4-Yre1GoliZneh0YVzsOC1sychOyaVdAwfT9_SNnHlBOI4iJtW9vaL6v89O/w640-h426/_A6A0661.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cantilevered windows looking out over the forest below. In most of the original house, the windows are blue stained glass and more atmospheric than functional, but this sitting area offers a real view.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Even this early in the tour through the house, it's clear that Jordan had a love of autonomous musical instruments; there are player pianos and a few other animated instruments in the original house, including one which plays a loop of Ravel's "Bolero" and two other classical pieces, several non-playing baby grand pianos, as well another baby grand which plays around three dozen different tunes.</p><p>As you wind through the original house, you'll eventually reach the Infinity Room, a 218-foot-long extension with no exterior supports that extends out over the forest below. It's a neat optical and structural trick even for such an impressively-long structure.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZuDM-9EhRuSfnzHG0BDIVbe_vkkIGV-vqcLLx6-djHTLv3Bs7lhzzZU_TcQPvP17ZxPaeKBVlZfJSTngEGY5gC3RFgISV-T7P46vWf6RIu1R6xcGZ8W2kpoTsyfL7q72-8cdjHDdU7CjztCgVSZ0J75sC32iD0oAqIcub75WyKq6--RPGUz_40vxh/s6000/_A6A0613.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZuDM-9EhRuSfnzHG0BDIVbe_vkkIGV-vqcLLx6-djHTLv3Bs7lhzzZU_TcQPvP17ZxPaeKBVlZfJSTngEGY5gC3RFgISV-T7P46vWf6RIu1R6xcGZ8W2kpoTsyfL7q72-8cdjHDdU7CjztCgVSZ0J75sC32iD0oAqIcub75WyKq6--RPGUz_40vxh/w640-h426/_A6A0613.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Infinity Room, albeit apparently experiencing some moisture issues during my visit</td></tr></tbody></table><p>After the trip down the Infinity Room and back, it's time to finish up the visit to the original house and return to the hub. The meat of the visit is about to begin with Section 2, which is a series of connected buildings starting at the Mill House. The collections of kitsch and knick-knacks come fast and furious from there on out. </p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Section 2: The Mill House, Streets of Yesterday, Heritage of the Sea, Tribute to Nostalgia, Music of Yesterday, and Carousel Room</h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-GDt2-0kz9PlNyA2OItnyDIBr5mq0UuzWHIWaMavLveDAfAbCm1RomGwqiH_un26xfK6MHdH8qg8TfQLHE_w1s_QyXHnKMuoGTdqHVG5hF2_rLZgjhGS40dIyyz7jaIYUbDbC9BL2BE19HQjYIaQ9FwCwkGfcW-gW73U1rq3ACqRFrH7dcTLY7vwP/s5590/_A6A0691.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3727" data-original-width="5590" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-GDt2-0kz9PlNyA2OItnyDIBr5mq0UuzWHIWaMavLveDAfAbCm1RomGwqiH_un26xfK6MHdH8qg8TfQLHE_w1s_QyXHnKMuoGTdqHVG5hF2_rLZgjhGS40dIyyz7jaIYUbDbC9BL2BE19HQjYIaQ9FwCwkGfcW-gW73U1rq3ACqRFrH7dcTLY7vwP/w640-h426/_A6A0691.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mill House's large, functional waterwheel</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Section 2 is easily the largest portion of the tour and will take at least a solid hour or two to explore from start to finish; it also contains several of the biggest draws to the entire House on the Rock property, including scores of musical automatons.</p><p>Early in the Mill House is a genuine antique, the 1893 "Regina Sublima" musical automaton--a contrast to the many reproductions and fabrications elsewhere throughout the place. The Mill House feeds into what I call the "Descent into Hell Street" (a callout to author Michael Richan, in whose books I discovered House on the Rock); that is, a descent that eventually leads to the "Streets of Yesterday," which as you'll soon see is a nightmarish midnight version of Disney's Main Street USA. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88U17SahZx5S6P25Qux_5S-54iwM0ow8wwMOKgoO5kqFlXf0LErUG9T4Z6hS3M8NGDhappiQj6XQWf5JZLhuSx5bG7ZsXO4D3Xz5_DPM4E7bQTDxokwF5ruXJA0WdvO8Ef8HJzqKaJlvcaQBzIEdFn7Te1IdoJZhucH5RUaE-3yRnhhBWcxaDEhTv/s6000/_A6A0709.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88U17SahZx5S6P25Qux_5S-54iwM0ow8wwMOKgoO5kqFlXf0LErUG9T4Z6hS3M8NGDhappiQj6XQWf5JZLhuSx5bG7ZsXO4D3Xz5_DPM4E7bQTDxokwF5ruXJA0WdvO8Ef8HJzqKaJlvcaQBzIEdFn7Te1IdoJZhucH5RUaE-3yRnhhBWcxaDEhTv/w640-h426/_A6A0709.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Descent into Hell Street</td></tr></tbody></table><p>As a side note, the House on the Rock features in Neil Gaiman's <i>American Gods, </i>which I read back in the early 2000s but apparently never realized represented a real place until I came across it again years later in Richan's paranormal "The River" series. In Richan's books, House on the Rock appears starting in <i>The Haunting of Pitmon House</i>, which went on to be a three-volume standalone trilogy providing backstory for the gifted character Eliza, who prior to moving to the Pacific northwest spent years working at the attraction and discovered the many paranormal surprises and dangers lurking in the collections.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1QDL5rvlLVT2AYPov2JgQU60JJmWWBqcpwoxhZIjI4-4COG_8UluyeLRkf8KSAF2W5pYBtwCcZrj9sfs-i0lmo7D-Nj76hCQIP9plM4u1jbv1w6EkaTnPFxl2r0a73Q4Ss5UFfYQXLUTLPucRBKaEx12NAoqQqQgmYzuox6Hd3JBuAuW4KxW8RQl/s5697/_A6A0737.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3798" data-original-width="5697" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1QDL5rvlLVT2AYPov2JgQU60JJmWWBqcpwoxhZIjI4-4COG_8UluyeLRkf8KSAF2W5pYBtwCcZrj9sfs-i0lmo7D-Nj76hCQIP9plM4u1jbv1w6EkaTnPFxl2r0a73Q4Ss5UFfYQXLUTLPucRBKaEx12NAoqQqQgmYzuox6Hd3JBuAuW4KxW8RQl/w640-h426/_A6A0737.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A preview of what is to come: The first "Toy" Shop, loaded with psychotic, possessed dolls waiting for you to turn your back on them and watching with those dead eyes.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Anyway, the "Streets of Yesterday" is a long boulevard lined with idealized turn-of-the-century shops and the residence of local "J. P. Richman." First of all, it's always midnight there--and I don't just mean dark like so much of the rest of the interior of House on the Rock's exhibits. Nope, check out the clocks in the clock shop near the beginning of the street: Almost all show the witching hour, as if they'd struck twelve and frozen there as everyone was sucked through a portal into Hell. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZRFfFho20BMDT0JmyL6rVEkFbKW5A8LvyXOd7kW75TVv08ovHJaWp31lciCDZJ8QWvHxVCUJqTUcoqFZ6syw_DdYssOtAskcIdZZaHtRQlhEg9Q4QQ4x6wPSZHFkpUMtKKxZOvdJRqUJ9okMRS1Ckr-GcWEhZrJW9pBCphCeV_YCAb4VPmhLcm_p/s6000/_A6A0810-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZRFfFho20BMDT0JmyL6rVEkFbKW5A8LvyXOd7kW75TVv08ovHJaWp31lciCDZJ8QWvHxVCUJqTUcoqFZ6syw_DdYssOtAskcIdZZaHtRQlhEg9Q4QQ4x6wPSZHFkpUMtKKxZOvdJRqUJ9okMRS1Ckr-GcWEhZrJW9pBCphCeV_YCAb4VPmhLcm_p/w640-h426/_A6A0810-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Streets of Yesterday look inviting enough... or do they? Where are the citizens and proprietors? Perhaps their souls were stolen away to Hell by the real residents: Legions of cursed dolls!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileh8lAfr0YbvlqiUzcwCJNR6feZi5uI2rMIt5iWAibyROm0b6I_iMvp17rr0XBO80rCyMTtmG-8cY-jkF5vSlVzbg1Vvs3hzYNisXJlaASUzr1bBBWqnOSYW6C1jyr6AhOZ2H0xnu5nr9a0boPS5gLocZu7UCsEuDibEwdVSaMqynriAwnrlWwGqy/s6000/_A6A0776.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileh8lAfr0YbvlqiUzcwCJNR6feZi5uI2rMIt5iWAibyROm0b6I_iMvp17rr0XBO80rCyMTtmG-8cY-jkF5vSlVzbg1Vvs3hzYNisXJlaASUzr1bBBWqnOSYW6C1jyr6AhOZ2H0xnu5nr9a0boPS5gLocZu7UCsEuDibEwdVSaMqynriAwnrlWwGqy/w640-h426/_A6A0776.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take a look inside that first shop. Nope. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>Many people find dolls creepy to the point of terrifying, and horror writers and filmmakers have capitalized on this <i>pediophobia</i> (yes, there's a word for fear of dolls) for thrills and scares alike over the years. <i>The Twilight Zone</i> and its classic episode "Talking Tina" may be one of the earlier manifestations familiar to all of us, but I doubt it was the first and know it certainly was not the last of the genre--though no, I don't count the Chucky franchise, as it's just silly, not scary. </p><p>House on the Rock is absolutely brimming with dolls: Dolls in faux toy shops <i>(two!), </i>dolls in doll houses of all sizes, dolls interspersed with other kitsch, and, most horrifyingly of all, not one but two carousels populated by tier after tier of dolls like Satan's wedding cake. There are so many that there's an entire "Doll Carousel Building" labeled on the map which turns up later in the tour as a sort of treatise to either Jordan's disturbed mind or an honest attempt at portraying something from Dante.</p><p>Even the House on the Rock's rather spartan website treatment acknowledges the dolls' sinister nature: When describing their after-hours tours, the site states: "If you have ever wondered if the dolls come alive at night or if you find the displays troubling during the day, wait until you see them in the dark." No, thank you. I'd rather not!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cb_wQlvRhTY38bp6Ll1KWGwCfjkKPipzOmrZVp7cnTwlscRmKnOu0rU_YPWFJaCxAA3_hOOiilS8i6pnnikN6R4_NNF3QdGcRYTDrkgUr39nQ6YHVnnYss-egrH_YphlyXZS0EvFUqjshbrzuMe-5_6TT2DJu2oRn8XXyDNJTfJpjR4oc-u5PpaT/s6000/_A6A0723.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cb_wQlvRhTY38bp6Ll1KWGwCfjkKPipzOmrZVp7cnTwlscRmKnOu0rU_YPWFJaCxAA3_hOOiilS8i6pnnikN6R4_NNF3QdGcRYTDrkgUr39nQ6YHVnnYss-egrH_YphlyXZS0EvFUqjshbrzuMe-5_6TT2DJu2oRn8XXyDNJTfJpjR4oc-u5PpaT/w640-h426/_A6A0723.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did I say creepy dolls? How about a crap-ton of creepy, soulless dolls.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBm04MFTGNYCb878oeOOqu7wR3s4Zd1BTUjBTU2op2MY5hCVjv4bRpC61JIHuiBIcbYpDrWD83X92szTDuXF-pZA0HNU5oKWJgOTn-4UVGXQAb_a66q8oj3TtxlJYfxiKttvzrh8l44ZqQTQEhsEV92nxM9TdSLI42LOzDsLSn2skhKeLsMZmoSc0W/s6000/_A6A0731.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBm04MFTGNYCb878oeOOqu7wR3s4Zd1BTUjBTU2op2MY5hCVjv4bRpC61JIHuiBIcbYpDrWD83X92szTDuXF-pZA0HNU5oKWJgOTn-4UVGXQAb_a66q8oj3TtxlJYfxiKttvzrh8l44ZqQTQEhsEV92nxM9TdSLI42LOzDsLSn2skhKeLsMZmoSc0W/w640-h426/_A6A0731.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then you've got dolls like the little girl in the green dress riding that deer. It's hard to get a good look at her, almost as if she's hiding and biding her time to strike. She's not the only such doll you'll encounter; the worst of them often seem to lurk...</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvHN034dGWrz5zP5UYRkS-ZqZmiy7QDvlmoRc9ki1e-kKtzNr9UtSCXCX977ioXoPls5uAykwEbx7Lkw0SUctjdHZeer8tCiU55ofP_kfqfvDPtN347tKcoe-USAp5hscc5YRCdwQuXbFwNmwzLsuLEQvsYVm7OXNSDuFyHqvSpJae4Dib93UGegz/s6000/_A6A0752.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvHN034dGWrz5zP5UYRkS-ZqZmiy7QDvlmoRc9ki1e-kKtzNr9UtSCXCX977ioXoPls5uAykwEbx7Lkw0SUctjdHZeer8tCiU55ofP_kfqfvDPtN347tKcoe-USAp5hscc5YRCdwQuXbFwNmwzLsuLEQvsYVm7OXNSDuFyHqvSpJae4Dib93UGegz/w640-h426/_A6A0752.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And if that weren't creepy enough, dolls in a diorama on the wall in a doll shop</td></tr></tbody></table><p>You can't enter any of the shops, but looking through the windows reveals an abundant level of detail. The remainder of the shops along the Streets of Yesterday run the gamut of Jordan's vision of turn-of-the-century Americana. During my tour, I noted:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>The aforementioned clock shop and its midnight-struck timepieces</li><li>A barber shop (I kept expecting to see a bloody straight razor hidden somewhere amidst the genie bottles, hair rollers, and wall full of mugs)</li><li>An apothecary chock wall-to-wall with patent nostrums and questionable medical devices, including a chromotherapy projector and a "hair regrowth" device that looks like something kids would redeem cereal box tops for via an ad in a comic book</li><li>A horseless carriage shop</li><li>The Sheriff's office, complete with a cell, some nooses for quick "justice," and eerily, a head in a jar--evidence of a crime, or the victim of a hanging?</li><li>The fire station, complete with an obligatory Dalmatian</li><li>An importer of "fine china" and "statuary" (and of course more creepy dolls)</li><li>A theater (which you'll enter on a different route, later, as the "Music of Yesterday" exhibit--don't worry that it appears roped-off, and if you arrive early, deserted)</li><li>The residence of one J. P. Richman, investor and landed gentry</li><li>A lamp shop, with more of the faux-Tiffany lighting (which can also be seen along the street)</li><li>A wood carver's shop offering toys and nautical figureheads</li><li>The local taxidermist's shop, with a jug band made up of several deceased frogs on display</li><li>A gigantic calliope at the end of the street</li></ul><p></p><p>There are also several automata scattered throughout the Streets of Yesterday that take a token to operate. They range from a typical carnival fortune telling machine to macabre dioramas which feature things like a dead man in bed which when animated, shows a skeleton emerge from his grandfather clock, a devil enter through the bedroom door, and another skeleton peek up from behind the bed. The calliope at the end of the street of course plays typical carnival-style music and is but a preview of what is to come.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIos3dE_d_jbM2Pk3dVth7hRrFkkunKeo2nTlYAswN_ZLgAQfXk4OCY8qtZ2sHj8CjRndDpZVhEhr78Zb15qZICCB9gy5SWNKndjGtuQcPIgHqWT4hgfcNN3swGvl_U9tigKug60-zbX7-TuNKmLXDd-2OWeKMJcZ1lrPl4CB2upYwpcA7Gp8kgJM/s6000/_A6A0831.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIos3dE_d_jbM2Pk3dVth7hRrFkkunKeo2nTlYAswN_ZLgAQfXk4OCY8qtZ2sHj8CjRndDpZVhEhr78Zb15qZICCB9gy5SWNKndjGtuQcPIgHqWT4hgfcNN3swGvl_U9tigKug60-zbX7-TuNKmLXDd-2OWeKMJcZ1lrPl4CB2upYwpcA7Gp8kgJM/w640-h426/_A6A0831.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apothecary and Barber Shop</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFffLjhx_ZUMVpQp4_4C26Eq-8SbRl5vyTGNKGGjXggXKuXVJSrq3GDZ2MwDnNS6rfl4plwb6EyxR-KvEQDAKh0_pCMK-bPlTA4KxNxzSz700UsPekwBfL9J614H4Amb_ElMjOEl0oM2qm7QmdUesOo6zm6ajhtXAabKjThHvNqMvmBFXf2C5fHD0l/s6000/_A6A0835.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFffLjhx_ZUMVpQp4_4C26Eq-8SbRl5vyTGNKGGjXggXKuXVJSrq3GDZ2MwDnNS6rfl4plwb6EyxR-KvEQDAKh0_pCMK-bPlTA4KxNxzSz700UsPekwBfL9J614H4Amb_ElMjOEl0oM2qm7QmdUesOo6zm6ajhtXAabKjThHvNqMvmBFXf2C5fHD0l/w640-h426/_A6A0835.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Potent potables and questionable devices. And googly eyes in a box; what pharmacopeia would be complete without googly eyes?</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPFjx_ps83cKNxQ_L6jEjLnBu1ESf4MS-YhVbpyvnygm_w7vIUoTB9NbrBWNNhKCYWzMU3prAX-kcGOHhWPm7BgJkEMeB3QzcyxEIlMXHPe5Ekin0TcHuSVWh2ip7Byj9RugTHZ7feORmoaH-Qw01euI9jvjeFLSG1M2jjdVH_i_J0DD7w6FqLH3E/s6000/_A6A0820.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPFjx_ps83cKNxQ_L6jEjLnBu1ESf4MS-YhVbpyvnygm_w7vIUoTB9NbrBWNNhKCYWzMU3prAX-kcGOHhWPm7BgJkEMeB3QzcyxEIlMXHPe5Ekin0TcHuSVWh2ip7Byj9RugTHZ7feORmoaH-Qw01euI9jvjeFLSG1M2jjdVH_i_J0DD7w6FqLH3E/w640-h426/_A6A0820.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not every Sheriff's Office features a head in a jar on the desk...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgya3ziC6VmjP0LB7o6UCUYVhktCQm77jWizpsJ8MOMOvRfj_AUi2tu5muzjrs3uoTtb_S0RjFZiDaesCyGaWXeafpH2rIm_lSbwMQeRLQGTUgchFIEm3TQEp7zqBc-rIsuOqGSb7lehCwx_y_PdUzDWkPvm0Nn2ZeqK90R8XyICpCaipTpNQcE30qD/s5210/_A6A0827.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3473" data-original-width="5210" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgya3ziC6VmjP0LB7o6UCUYVhktCQm77jWizpsJ8MOMOvRfj_AUi2tu5muzjrs3uoTtb_S0RjFZiDaesCyGaWXeafpH2rIm_lSbwMQeRLQGTUgchFIEm3TQEp7zqBc-rIsuOqGSb7lehCwx_y_PdUzDWkPvm0Nn2ZeqK90R8XyICpCaipTpNQcE30qD/w640-h426/_A6A0827.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping time to the witching hour</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpmKnVQ0dCaPsWemzdPvSkplAKHK1BIhe9cTvHYpGyslODZrrjrzMzZpyhT-ZoLsawiGhZRqvnB6IvKBXB5hY2TgUun7MnfB2zPvAjxtJnh0WTSz9U9BeACjlSRrlMn6eKG_o4oBxF9yv9Yeu8Rc7xFfrtrz5HRu-f0NpqQSuDp2IhPUnlDxF1udi/s5228/_A6A0878.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5228" data-original-width="3485" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpmKnVQ0dCaPsWemzdPvSkplAKHK1BIhe9cTvHYpGyslODZrrjrzMzZpyhT-ZoLsawiGhZRqvnB6IvKBXB5hY2TgUun7MnfB2zPvAjxtJnh0WTSz9U9BeACjlSRrlMn6eKG_o4oBxF9yv9Yeu8Rc7xFfrtrz5HRu-f0NpqQSuDp2IhPUnlDxF1udi/w426-h640/_A6A0878.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fortunes told: "I foresee that you will be murdered by cursed dolls."</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Exit the Streets of Yesterday just to the side of the calliope, and you'll soon be on the way to the "Heritage of the Sea," which is a multi-level structure lined with model ships including one of the <i>Titanic</i>, relics of seafaring from the age of sail through World War II (and even a model Soviet nuclear missile sub). The entire exhibit is built around a Brobdingnagian whale devouring a rowboat while itself under attack from a Lovecraftian tentacled sea monster. The whale is larger than the Statue of Liberty at 200 feet in length, and it fills the space in a way that defies getting a single photo encompassing it in whole. The finishing touches weren't completed until after Alex Jordan's death (he passed in 1989; the exhibit opened in 1990); there's a photo of Jordan in the beast's mouth on display in the museum at the start of the tour, which according to the placard is one of the rare occasions he allowed himself to be photographed.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshazTT5-t6dbDzpO49qI_IUMBNy0RkL-u3suXcNT6E0doLtqDGAMcLp3Nn8nYmR1FIttzV29uPpYV0-4khZq6pcUyIgmBHvVKdPtVtTwaQFy7IwkU1j2GJP4PzIKmL3KCfbEREKFj36Je-h-is1K4STq48AOw-y-R7kGyb1TCjHS7Xr0nN9LL8zGl/s5797/_A6A0931.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5797" data-original-width="3865" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshazTT5-t6dbDzpO49qI_IUMBNy0RkL-u3suXcNT6E0doLtqDGAMcLp3Nn8nYmR1FIttzV29uPpYV0-4khZq6pcUyIgmBHvVKdPtVtTwaQFy7IwkU1j2GJP4PzIKmL3KCfbEREKFj36Je-h-is1K4STq48AOw-y-R7kGyb1TCjHS7Xr0nN9LL8zGl/w426-h640/_A6A0931.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking at the sea battle from the middle level</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There's another animatronic musical display here, the Octopus' Garden that plays a familiar tune (and is actually mostly in-tune, in contrast to some of the older automatons). But overall, though the whale and sea monster are impressive, the real draw is yet to come. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQBOIidTmlcvwNDZdbErU7AAFxK77PEHzY61v7W3cLprhoD8rXkrKAEIsh91D15XNEKVJq3p6D93UaCvyg2y9O1GEcAsoiorFVvhWLMvAkeHrlSF8W48eMwmZ4dp7WdLnZITcmZ_qfowPGvsy4pu_1hS8lV3n7q2o84FEfmdKr1Q9w484FhmjDq88/s6000/_A6A0947.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQBOIidTmlcvwNDZdbErU7AAFxK77PEHzY61v7W3cLprhoD8rXkrKAEIsh91D15XNEKVJq3p6D93UaCvyg2y9O1GEcAsoiorFVvhWLMvAkeHrlSF8W48eMwmZ4dp7WdLnZITcmZ_qfowPGvsy4pu_1hS8lV3n7q2o84FEfmdKr1Q9w484FhmjDq88/w640-h426/_A6A0947.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's difficult to capture the scale of the whale and battle with the giant squid/octopus/Cthulu; much like photographing the Reclining Buddha in Thailand, the structure is simply so large compared to the space housing it that even my widest-angle lens can't render the entire scene in one take.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Exit the Heritage of the Sea into a somewhat-forgettable exhibit titled "Tribute to Nostalgia" which looks to be a throwback to 1950s diners era, complete with a neon donut shop sign and displays cabinets filled with toy banks shaped like all manner of trucks and vehicles. There's also the obligatory display of what thankfully are the only collection of marionettes within the facility--these cousins to dolls are perhaps the only thing more frightening than those soulless toys. We've all seen archetypal possession tales, where the marionette exchanges places with a human who becomes trapped with strings making them dance to a demonic master.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMAsJWZlQksSIxdiwZf-fEwDScC9OHERo0046FpEBaZ6uXuA1dP9MkJWbgjH0QRsgM0uhKmLNhbBc_nnTDgr9hFL2tQhKL1-sN6GyUSjet7Cexk5WoFWDjWTI4hujf10YtYSOlPMsQ78g3NdPXvNPHFr95aPulQKadInEOI1VKhx8fYOE52WAwDdV/s5953/_A6A0982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3969" data-original-width="5953" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMAsJWZlQksSIxdiwZf-fEwDScC9OHERo0046FpEBaZ6uXuA1dP9MkJWbgjH0QRsgM0uhKmLNhbBc_nnTDgr9hFL2tQhKL1-sN6GyUSjet7Cexk5WoFWDjWTI4hujf10YtYSOlPMsQ78g3NdPXvNPHFr95aPulQKadInEOI1VKhx8fYOE52WAwDdV/w640-h426/_A6A0982.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are marionettes, and then there are demon spawn on strings</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There's also a tremendous Rube Goldberg machine, but it didn't appear to be functional during my visit. It looked like it <i>could</i> work, but I didn't see anywhere to insert tokens. It includes the expected tropes like an "egg counter" beneath a chicken with two air-actuated boxing gloves positioned to goose the fowl, along with some creepy Santa-esque musicians. There are also a series of classic cars, carriages, and even a hearse on the ground level, and planes and hot air balloons flying overhead, and a camera "store" kiosk featuring hundreds of antiques (and as usual, it's tough to tell how many are authentic).<br /></p><p>The highlight of the section for me was the wall of Burma Shave placards. If you don't know Burma Shave, the company advertised via a series of roadside signs with short messages like, "He Saw the Train / And Tried to Duck It / Kicked First / The Gas / And Then the Bucket" planted along American highways and byways. You'd almost think these were some sort of <i>Mad Magazine </i>slogans, but they were a real thing, with most warning drivers to pay attention (ironically via a series of small signs) and be careful lest they become human hamburger splattered across the highway.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrLVm2cRTw973qQqOcx0nb6_pr0myjm_Tn5xMfpOyz5Rvvr8GZdA2aNK-VTkRTw4KsNRQscoXZce_Orlsy6M35Bw0WogM2HFJN84yf_hY02gRMzRrlDYLR17nJIhcb-lU3ztrR4TaWeNXFtAEqdjHWLQaM3-1ZS7UDhHx9kc43bgPUT2H0L9cdTAy/s5262/_A6A1012.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3508" data-original-width="5262" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrLVm2cRTw973qQqOcx0nb6_pr0myjm_Tn5xMfpOyz5Rvvr8GZdA2aNK-VTkRTw4KsNRQscoXZce_Orlsy6M35Bw0WogM2HFJN84yf_hY02gRMzRrlDYLR17nJIhcb-lU3ztrR4TaWeNXFtAEqdjHWLQaM3-1ZS7UDhHx9kc43bgPUT2H0L9cdTAy/w640-h426/_A6A1012.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Burma Shave placards</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There's an ice cream shop in the center of the big hall, but it wasn't open when I visited (maybe it's only open on weekends?) though what appeared to be real ice cream was visible behind the counter. There's also a pizza shop pretty much at the halfway point through the House on the Rock, just beyond the ice cream parlor. It makes for a nice, quick lunch break, and given it's best to start the day right at opening at 9am, you'll be ready for lunch by the time you reach it around 11:00 or 11:30am. Prices are what you'd expect for a tourist trap ($5 for an admittedly generously-sized slice, sodas and waters running around $3), but the overall House on the Rock experience is a bargain honestly. Paying inflated snack bar prices isn't too painful unless you're feeding a family of a dozen ravenous munchkins with no inclination to share. As it's halfway through, the restaurant closes at 3:00pm, since the remainder of the exhibits will take a solid two hours to walk through.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWACoWYpd2nPnwdwbB0yeii1PBr14tSS2wheXkpN2Bf5rAioKr-7r5kFYCGXOnOyOxI_jkD3I8UYBIGdWNZA_C3f2xfvb3OnHFWlVnFE313cuUjvlYS80o7YbqDmTYf1IPFIiaSoeAD3Tppa70qHvr5szQD807YLBaZZdfpf71TI210J98Uuo00PUB/s6000/_A6A1054.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWACoWYpd2nPnwdwbB0yeii1PBr14tSS2wheXkpN2Bf5rAioKr-7r5kFYCGXOnOyOxI_jkD3I8UYBIGdWNZA_C3f2xfvb3OnHFWlVnFE313cuUjvlYS80o7YbqDmTYf1IPFIiaSoeAD3Tppa70qHvr5szQD807YLBaZZdfpf71TI210J98Uuo00PUB/w640-h426/_A6A1054.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ticket booth was empty, but I expect a creepy mannequin is usually on duty: "One ticket to enter... no one said anything about a ticket to leave."</td></tr></tbody></table><p>On the other side of the atrium restaurant begins the "Music of Yesterday," which is one of the absolute highlights of the visit. Alex Jordan collected and built life-sized automaton musical displays, populated with all manner of strings, pianos, drums, and other instruments that appear "play" themselves. Some do indeed, like the drums and cymbals, whereas the strings are either played through speakers or simulated by organ pipes. Drop in a token and enjoy!</p><p>I had walked past the entrance to the Music of Yesterday about halfway through the Streets of Yesterday, where it was cordoned-off with a red velvet rope as if the show wasn't yet open. Like any good visitor to a Barnum-esque attraction, I worried I'd missed out due to maintenance or something, and I kept peering around the rope to try to get a glimpse of something beyond. Never worry; it's all part of the show, and the door from the restaurant leads right into the entrance to the "theatre."</p><p>The ticket booth was empty when I visited, as well as in the photos and videos I've scanned through from others' visits, but I recall that Michael Richan's <i>Haunting of Pitmon House </i>mentions a mannequin on duty... which seems appropriate. The musicians in the cabinets are fairly menacing on their own, but just wait until you progress into the heart of the exhibit!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYZbtYnc2SNChyYXXHbDCcG8dKeXvcTKSZs30JdWCo5gvwwpJQm0_nmTQIMcNqu4RVnSv9Ij1dJBjB5HZlx1xm2_4zqO6b80gAL7mw1stCXNFjl70QuaKzEg-zTYSiTQKlYVOuDTsye4PVqYTxxziZPr1qssD2VJZ4rZmuhOP324f_uC2E_0mtyyL/s4838/_A6A1125.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4838" data-original-width="3225" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYZbtYnc2SNChyYXXHbDCcG8dKeXvcTKSZs30JdWCo5gvwwpJQm0_nmTQIMcNqu4RVnSv9Ij1dJBjB5HZlx1xm2_4zqO6b80gAL7mw1stCXNFjl70QuaKzEg-zTYSiTQKlYVOuDTsye4PVqYTxxziZPr1qssD2VJZ4rZmuhOP324f_uC2E_0mtyyL/w426-h640/_A6A1125.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mikado automaton</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The next few rooms are dominated by a <i>giallo </i>color palette of deep reds, golds, and a bit of blue, though I'm not sure even the Italian horror film masters would have come up with such a macabre assortment of ghostly musical instruments, mannequins, and eventually, yes, more dolls. There are multiple exhibits which run the gamut from corny ("Yakety Sax" blaring from a red velvet-lined cave titled "Miss Kitty's Boudoir") to formal (the "Blue Room" ready for a spectral waltz) to... well, I don't quite know how to describe either the Mikado Room or the Red Room exhibits.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9SBfJkePfk-PgMUhlAH9gxf6CxAh_VLCdSqv0Db_qd7oiGBkLZ2h-qUztZC8zLiwnR0nxlQZgyyg2M-H-49cZiPM1_7d48zZDa4S_ris1MLAPid_jTFlaS5UVUPSWUT7fBQ9TOSWXqpqUxHanV51_iU8G_7C2INc4AvUBJ-ezB20l2OmlwJPB4JPv/s6000/_A6A1069.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9SBfJkePfk-PgMUhlAH9gxf6CxAh_VLCdSqv0Db_qd7oiGBkLZ2h-qUztZC8zLiwnR0nxlQZgyyg2M-H-49cZiPM1_7d48zZDa4S_ris1MLAPid_jTFlaS5UVUPSWUT7fBQ9TOSWXqpqUxHanV51_iU8G_7C2INc4AvUBJ-ezB20l2OmlwJPB4JPv/w640-h426/_A6A1069.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Kitty's Boudouir, appropriately covered in red velvet cushions</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXSocl4opw44IClv5MEPyMviMwDx5jS0J6wpZBsbu3NXX9w4X6ruQwNFzWNn2oRS8qQgGtT74w72P4vu83ZjMBzgfBP0iRL72mIdW79dNf1UmjzXuA14QvkqoZc89clxPYsdrZQ7IKYwaJkioT5IMM5X_6TaQPdqtS3sXrP6EUsfPY6YvTJyogDcb/s6000/_A6A1088-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXSocl4opw44IClv5MEPyMviMwDx5jS0J6wpZBsbu3NXX9w4X6ruQwNFzWNn2oRS8qQgGtT74w72P4vu83ZjMBzgfBP0iRL72mIdW79dNf1UmjzXuA14QvkqoZc89clxPYsdrZQ7IKYwaJkioT5IMM5X_6TaQPdqtS3sXrP6EUsfPY6YvTJyogDcb/w640-h426/_A6A1088-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for a ghostly waltz in the Blue Room</td></tr></tbody></table><p>As you might expect with decades-old musical automata, they're not always exactly in tune or on key (and some may even be out of order on any given day), and the combinations of live percussion and organ pipes mixed with soundtrack string instruments can be a bit disconcerting to outright jarring. But honestly, that's part of the charm. The instruments don't have a huge range of motion, but it's still eerie to see these "unattended" instruments moving and playing, and it's easy to imagine a ghost with fingers on the strings or wielding a drumstick.</p><p>There's even a musical hearse which plays "When the Saints Go Marching In," which I didn't notice until reviewing photos later. Somehow, I missed the token slot, and no one else passing through tried it out, either.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSesjsyNGlzjmDx7jwJAf6ict6jSiuYQcutEksezF0ZEKx530SkZlGZxVeoovJQxrnH3X7vdJWIBbbDomLBTYtnRbyTj1zsItgdndxfVYgWerbjF-JcxvWbvN-OcwlDXT3z0n639lGnlAASX-geyfz-aZAql7QrwZEi4wqBFrhBA5ZeWhEqb32NPQ/s6000/_A6A1060.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSesjsyNGlzjmDx7jwJAf6ict6jSiuYQcutEksezF0ZEKx530SkZlGZxVeoovJQxrnH3X7vdJWIBbbDomLBTYtnRbyTj1zsItgdndxfVYgWerbjF-JcxvWbvN-OcwlDXT3z0n639lGnlAASX-geyfz-aZAql7QrwZEi4wqBFrhBA5ZeWhEqb32NPQ/w640-h426/_A6A1060.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because when you go, you should go in style! This musical hearse must be powered by the souls of those it has transported to hell...</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Without further ado, here's a video I took sampling of just a few of the musical automatons along the tour route (not in the order you encounter them, mind you): </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="429" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ROkAkGLJGME" width="516" youtube-src-id="ROkAkGLJGME"></iframe></div><p>My video doesn't do them justice, honestly, particularly the sound or some of the details, which when I go back one day I'll work hard to better capture. Nor did I include any of the smaller, non-musical (but often far creepier) diorama-style automatons; I wasn't sure how much I needed to pace my token spending. I had 12 on hand, which won't be nearly enough if you're there on a slow day and want to see every display functional--when busier, you can piggy-back and watch when someone else drops a token in a slot--or if you want to catch particular tunes played by some of the larger displays. Many cycle through, like the Mikado Room's 3x tracks ("Danse Macabre," "Harem Bells," and "Ritual Fire Dance") or the Gladiator Calliope's 10 (!) separate tracks. I found a <a href="https://www.folklib.net/index/discog/labels/house_rock_tour.shtml" target="_blank">handy reference list of all the tracks and all the automata</a> online, though it's likely somewhat dated--for example, when I visited, most of the machines require only a single token unlike the 2 listed for most of the bigger musical displays.</p><p>Just in this section alone, there's the Absinthe House piano (which works through a tremendous length of looping punch-card musical score), the Pontalba Hearse, Miss Kitty's Boudoir, The Peacock 92-key organ and collection of animated accordions, the Blue Room, the Franz Josef (with creepy animatronic figures!), the Mikado Room, the Blue Danube, more player pianos and automatons, and the piece de resistance: The Red Room with its incredibly weird display of spike-mantled angels flying overhead and leaping lions and tigers amidst the animatronic instruments.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDfCsZdiME6Y4drnDoTJJ0R3IH9za_PKsrEMrW4lI69seUdN0AqrSA3ISigdYgRXDpONSGaxYoMg-GkkC0eoeZpy2ITQ34Tw4f9GbLxi6BV95Wp_nMhiWwim9YYbBfIMPVFNtPxnMcSpv4ikd4c8lRRsTOUfypf-e5WbY9yalbyQybh470C8F9AHm/s5717/_A6A1176-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3811" data-original-width="5717" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDfCsZdiME6Y4drnDoTJJ0R3IH9za_PKsrEMrW4lI69seUdN0AqrSA3ISigdYgRXDpONSGaxYoMg-GkkC0eoeZpy2ITQ34Tw4f9GbLxi6BV95Wp_nMhiWwim9YYbBfIMPVFNtPxnMcSpv4ikd4c8lRRsTOUfypf-e5WbY9yalbyQybh470C8F9AHm/w640-h426/_A6A1176-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Red Room is ... something else for sure</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The Red Room is the last entry in the Music of Yesterday section of the tour and certainly the capstone to the insanity and fever dream that is the series of musical automatons; the next portion is the "Sprit of Aviation," which is essentially a corner with newspapers from the history of aviation and large-scale model aircraft on display. The exhibit went in after Alex Jordan's passing, and honestly, it lacks his special, eccentric touch. Hopefully the curators will expand and enhance it over time, as right now, it's essentially just a waypoint to catch your breath before proceeding onward to the Carousel Room.</p><p>The House on the Rock bills its carousel as the largest indoor one in the world, and I don't have any reason not to take their word for it. The display includes 269 carousel animals and busts (none of them horses--there's a zebra, centaurs of both genders, and all manner of mythical creatures, but technically no horses on the carousel itself--dozens to hundreds line the back wall), lit with 182 chandeliers and over 20,000 lights. Word is the platform rides on rollers rather than a central axle, which technically makes it something less than a "real" carousel, but who's counting? Everything at House on the Rock is about appearance, after all.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAWreqNeUHvwMy5-EeHSf0GPLcYfvd6Rb_UoWV85-UtNNr0SDHyEwD3GSujBzdOPhiMPgxl9lj0MrcOVA22Pf4nk7TpRixoujcYu6UfQe9gsFFj9bhNTIw85OJ0MwZLpx63demDZMqd1xaM6plpVYnnxtqwsubXHwWB2BOUEK5wBFuu4JhtTF_8o5Y/s6000/_A6A1843-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAWreqNeUHvwMy5-EeHSf0GPLcYfvd6Rb_UoWV85-UtNNr0SDHyEwD3GSujBzdOPhiMPgxl9lj0MrcOVA22Pf4nk7TpRixoujcYu6UfQe9gsFFj9bhNTIw85OJ0MwZLpx63demDZMqd1xaM6plpVYnnxtqwsubXHwWB2BOUEK5wBFuu4JhtTF_8o5Y/w640-h426/_A6A1843-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The World's Largest Indoor Carousel</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Sadly, you can't catch a ride on the carousel--it goes around and around indefinitely, fenced off and with a bored-looking attendant watching to ensure no kids or rule-breaking adults attempt to ride. Unless you're Natalie Merchant and 10,000 Maniacs, I suppose; the band filmed a video on location and <i>did</i> take a ride. Or the cast of <i>American Gods</i>. </p><p>While I understand not wanting the wear and tear on the animals (many of which are undoubtedly antiques acquired from around the world), I feel like the House on the Rock is missing out on an extra revenue stream: They could sell $25 tickets, limited to a small number per day, and offer the ride during the downtime between closing at 5:00pm and the night shift reopening at 6:30pm. But I suppose a ride wouldn't come with Jason Robards fighting the devil's proxy Mr. Dark on a time-traveling hell carousel; it's not that kind of ride, and something wicked already came calling here.</p><p>Operating the carousel must be the lowest job on the totem pole at House on the Rock, handed out like latrine duty, because the room is not only seizure-inducing in its level of lights and motion but the fact that here again, there's a humongous automaton musical instrument playing non-stop, with booming drums and clanging bells. You'd need earplugs or natural deafness to survive a shift watching to snag any kids who try to leap up on and fight centrifugal force long enough to catch a ride on one of the hell beasts endlessly circling 'round and 'round again.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcwZ36bEROt0Sft-1LwEUxif96FBh7xSCMFEm4OTbh6nZRDF75hgLW7jniU0SlDYWH01vywSgzzEDwB3gTW9XDKGe3UG8gpr1OyPe4sZ14Gc-EM7BBD8eLc6fcQZEoLIl2BgxeCl1F8IhexiqCLbtkQOfGBnN6r6isL3hUV2r1tGmfKV4RNaLph4l/s6000/_A6A1834.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcwZ36bEROt0Sft-1LwEUxif96FBh7xSCMFEm4OTbh6nZRDF75hgLW7jniU0SlDYWH01vywSgzzEDwB3gTW9XDKGe3UG8gpr1OyPe4sZ14Gc-EM7BBD8eLc6fcQZEoLIl2BgxeCl1F8IhexiqCLbtkQOfGBnN6r6isL3hUV2r1tGmfKV4RNaLph4l/w640-h426/_A6A1834.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angels soar in the "sky" above the carousel</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There are also dozens (if not hundreds) of mannequins with angel wings and vaguely Greco-Roman dresses (often displaying a wardrobe malfunction or two) and 1970s hairdos filling the "sky" above the carousel. For some reason, I'm reminded of the Led Zeppelin song "The Battle of Evermore" with its "Angels of Avalon" and the fact that the "sky is filled with Good and Bad / that mortals never know." Perhaps they're there to protect the carousel from the demonic forces found everywhere else in the House on the Rock; perhaps they're the forces of evil that fill the sky, though.</p><p>Looking up at those angelic figures, you may notice a crosswalk that looks like it would be a better vantage point. No, you don't climb the stairs next to the attendant to reach them. Instead, like so much else of the labyrinthine tour at the House on the Rock, you've got a long way to go before you loop back to cross above the carousel room.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOvWapmsmjup83Mj5v3k-uKgDMd_0TQAL2xzLLW8C4egZp4j7jr57nu5bbsGL9D9HzT4dHqi4Wukh81ro8XSnx8PMDV7QKy7OqKVvV3uMJJWxiMIU1jN3jTvmIQMsnxpsXaYOVBnWi-0atqGYtgFg13tx_CBavPc83gNjbE8Ww-LopqEFo_jAOQkh/s6000/_A6A1224-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOvWapmsmjup83Mj5v3k-uKgDMd_0TQAL2xzLLW8C4egZp4j7jr57nu5bbsGL9D9HzT4dHqi4Wukh81ro8XSnx8PMDV7QKy7OqKVvV3uMJJWxiMIU1jN3jTvmIQMsnxpsXaYOVBnWi-0atqGYtgFg13tx_CBavPc83gNjbE8Ww-LopqEFo_jAOQkh/w640-h426/_A6A1224-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Appropriately enough, exiting the Carousel Room requires passage down a hellmouth</td></tr></tbody></table><p>When ready to proceed, the exit is through a hellmouth described as the "Devil's Throat," through a horned beast's mouth and down a long, red hallway to the room beyond. I'm again reminded of Richan's writing, this time his "Dark River" books and a similarly-named throat to reach the most infernal creatures and architects of evil residing in the Dark River... though that's likely just coincidence, I suppose.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Section 3: The Organ Room, Doll Carousel Building, Doll Houses, Circus Room, and Japanese Garden</h2><p>Proceeding through the Devil's Throat crosses into yet another multi-story, cavernous room filled floor-to-ceiling with walkways and passages: the "Organ Room," which begins Section 3 of the tour. During the more lighthearted Christmas season, the Organ Room and other portions of Section 3 are apparently closed off; perhaps there's simply no way to transform that part of the House on the Rock to a holiday wonderland (unless that holiday is Halloween).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIVmArzHnWtTBXqXbfSA6rNsgqPYcL-Nxz5vwXJDcXWHMoIx8gNO-y_1dilSwwz3dPtpZLg5VCGCsbbhisUm1trH7U46I6BV67EgJYlj9iDaVhGXPHKJWoewuGOls2FAghN1HrHuV4y-Ds-Cgw6nBpx-cC07sTruu2XZJwg6Eb7qhgVIbOSdrxx4I/s5846/_A6A1352-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5846" data-original-width="3897" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIVmArzHnWtTBXqXbfSA6rNsgqPYcL-Nxz5vwXJDcXWHMoIx8gNO-y_1dilSwwz3dPtpZLg5VCGCsbbhisUm1trH7U46I6BV67EgJYlj9iDaVhGXPHKJWoewuGOls2FAghN1HrHuV4y-Ds-Cgw6nBpx-cC07sTruu2XZJwg6Eb7qhgVIbOSdrxx4I/w426-h640/_A6A1352-Edit.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the chandeliers in the cavernous Organ Room</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Section 3, much like the previous section, requires a good investment of time: plan to spend at least an hour walking through it (and hopefully not an eternity--a distinct possibility if you fall victim to some of the dolls looking for souls to cart off to Hell).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGutP_bZNZBqO8ZoBtsh-jXsdMXKK3tEFNBIVJYKN5ZvRcfEN-g20Ycp8qAfbZ7O2_r77CAwP7dQlE9_0fQqMl1rk7SZ-5DlV-bJcg-ixBAgSRFvMkScT3ysg3d8Us1oznq2yoXepE396dyAo5LF4-551nqVHuSBLuvMqu1vR-k1pkUj-HaFuNMUpq/s5541/_A6A1338.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5541" data-original-width="3694" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGutP_bZNZBqO8ZoBtsh-jXsdMXKK3tEFNBIVJYKN5ZvRcfEN-g20Ycp8qAfbZ7O2_r77CAwP7dQlE9_0fQqMl1rk7SZ-5DlV-bJcg-ixBAgSRFvMkScT3ysg3d8Us1oznq2yoXepE396dyAo5LF4-551nqVHuSBLuvMqu1vR-k1pkUj-HaFuNMUpq/w426-h640/_A6A1338.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "modern" organ, vintage 1970</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zTl8-MmC7KZ4wCIvRSXl7DdAVNTbov-G0WfkIUh34VBZT4owsk-PqGB7fyNPWQ18lvvwb8WDU8JTQMOhPtBbxK41arA0RdwgNzUxJL1fKVG2llbZeP8szQLL1NwlaOSxzi7jyIdoQ2fZYzw7KDsGy6GyXelJTwngbLzDXr4sFuVwN1wRNER-ronO/s6000/_A6A1356.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zTl8-MmC7KZ4wCIvRSXl7DdAVNTbov-G0WfkIUh34VBZT4owsk-PqGB7fyNPWQ18lvvwb8WDU8JTQMOhPtBbxK41arA0RdwgNzUxJL1fKVG2llbZeP8szQLL1NwlaOSxzi7jyIdoQ2fZYzw7KDsGy6GyXelJTwngbLzDXr4sFuVwN1wRNER-ronO/w426-h640/_A6A1356.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another organ on display, jugs of distilled harvested souls on the wall behind it</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The Organ Room is ostensibly a collection of several organs--none of which function to my knowledge--laid out around more tremendous hardware including five-foot-tall electric motor windings, a series of copper stills and distillery trappings, several large clocks and plenty of exposed clockwork mechanisms, chandeliers, the main drive screw from a large ship, and more statuary, not to mention a dark little town street guarded with cannons. Unlike some of the prior portions of the House on the Rock, there are more opportunities to backtrack or take alternate paths, though there are nonetheless signs pointing the general way forward--just be sure to investigate any side catwalks and passages throughout.</p><p>Overall, I got a sense of immense infernal machine, with all the parts connected to the whole. I imagine the massive electrodes and motors generating a rift that punches through to Hell, connecting the room to the Devil's Throat on one end and... well, we'll save the Doll Carousel Building for a bit, but it's fair to label it something right out of Dante. Souls stolen by the doll armies are distilled and bottled for consumption by demonic hordes. The towering red and actinic white chandelier lighting throughout the room only strengthens the feeling of some kind of tremendous evil afoot. I led this entire post with a shot of some of that diabolical machinery; the visuals are some of my favorite in the entire House on the Rock.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnqnPlRDkjFneD96D38yrZlLWGQWVu2-gNOcSOVTFtFfB8xHTKbFzKBJLYUjrMR6sgClLCB9ZZwrNN93oWFeHiwab5Qs1aXMV_cgr2LI5YwABpmNifDeoU0E0Wd90uPtYEwqmMmm83MWQ7BpMtK-oAbSmvNldFlDFiTGhMtR0CkzxYEH-VJ1K36gV/s6000/_A6A1293.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnqnPlRDkjFneD96D38yrZlLWGQWVu2-gNOcSOVTFtFfB8xHTKbFzKBJLYUjrMR6sgClLCB9ZZwrNN93oWFeHiwab5Qs1aXMV_cgr2LI5YwABpmNifDeoU0E0Wd90uPtYEwqmMmm83MWQ7BpMtK-oAbSmvNldFlDFiTGhMtR0CkzxYEH-VJ1K36gV/w266-h400/_A6A1293.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hollow Dreams" = Nightmares</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXWmNskfT7opTNjeig0v6sl4NBXDcG9I882J42IELB48lf6TF62HpJmUgzn8XkT9dpaDbHZfbrvwjG4gTFbmyP2ax3QPdNW5K1QXMVOgddMbiMcJdG3mOdbT2sHs8NfmeadppOheKvmWMloLebwTYvrYWdK9NrPFQ8rArSWQWkmUtLh6pSw2eP0JH/s5833/_A6A1299.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3889" data-original-width="5833" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXWmNskfT7opTNjeig0v6sl4NBXDcG9I882J42IELB48lf6TF62HpJmUgzn8XkT9dpaDbHZfbrvwjG4gTFbmyP2ax3QPdNW5K1QXMVOgddMbiMcJdG3mOdbT2sHs8NfmeadppOheKvmWMloLebwTYvrYWdK9NrPFQ8rArSWQWkmUtLh6pSw2eP0JH/w640-h426/_A6A1299.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Distilling the souls of the damned</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrskK2L4xIRBgdPy03hi7tgEaq_n-zKl_8O8MGdT9PFdpih7oHbUpTux-RfwZUAb6ykusTcUGDEO1gbjHU-glZi89soXh5HEIuv5Raefuv-3RaMjUrUyVyymNCmRSKRzslfuX-EGv9Inb7C2IB2x3zHoE5ObN8b3XS8PnXnCS69S_XMX8amy0kHH2-/s6000/_A6A1309.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrskK2L4xIRBgdPy03hi7tgEaq_n-zKl_8O8MGdT9PFdpih7oHbUpTux-RfwZUAb6ykusTcUGDEO1gbjHU-glZi89soXh5HEIuv5Raefuv-3RaMjUrUyVyymNCmRSKRzslfuX-EGv9Inb7C2IB2x3zHoE5ObN8b3XS8PnXnCS69S_XMX8amy0kHH2-/w640-h426/_A6A1309.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Infernal clockwork mechanisms and devices</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAysGOFPNjx79j2pbX7i18fOXftQw-QCIftAMBFXO9Jm6I31E2FhR2FEilGguH6ST0ZAz9g8p-b-ydmt_d1uvTVs1KpZBugnjc55gzHZvocx5taiA6SVWaFdM8fCprFfiVYyJJdEtWKGXho6OZBREQsOiiQcDzsyzCukegwSofhDdq6WYMVJ-QRt6h/s6000/_A6A1311.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAysGOFPNjx79j2pbX7i18fOXftQw-QCIftAMBFXO9Jm6I31E2FhR2FEilGguH6ST0ZAz9g8p-b-ydmt_d1uvTVs1KpZBugnjc55gzHZvocx5taiA6SVWaFdM8fCprFfiVYyJJdEtWKGXho6OZBREQsOiiQcDzsyzCukegwSofhDdq6WYMVJ-QRt6h/w426-h640/_A6A1311.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is that "woman" doing suspended over this clock?</td></tr></tbody></table><p>After winding around, up, down, and through the Organ Room once, the path exits at ground level to "Inspiration Point," which appears to be a restaurant either in the process of being built, or else mothballed during the pandemic. There's a commercial kitchen off on one end, along with soda fountains and four beer taps, but none of it in use. It's currently described as a "resting point" and has both indoor and outdoor table seating, along with what appears to be either a fire pit or fountain (non-functional at the moment either way).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8jhS2mOxHTmSfaE_grclSkRTbKcf1eg6-Uh4yAwj6--byFwF1dT3HDagd02IW3CNY0vWRm6dc9PjBH2PWRKKtpajqLxMNz6egTqLgX5o1yE3saej0iTaywdc-gIJdDjWPLCNjMzdx8XSBm5eFXqY_uUWiWVVKx7NSfHfIm7pJE4bXJIn1UoUEtWh/s6000/_A6A1387.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8jhS2mOxHTmSfaE_grclSkRTbKcf1eg6-Uh4yAwj6--byFwF1dT3HDagd02IW3CNY0vWRm6dc9PjBH2PWRKKtpajqLxMNz6egTqLgX5o1yE3saej0iTaywdc-gIJdDjWPLCNjMzdx8XSBm5eFXqY_uUWiWVVKx7NSfHfIm7pJE4bXJIn1UoUEtWh/w640-h426/_A6A1387.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "resting area" of Inspiration Point<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnGzK1J4A6smgzYTESc9i2wXN9XML3yc0P0-1RmfQY2Q3qtVaxZwNWUfI1L9JvA2GWg6-ERBdJvWtG-Bai82tacMRqRio6fCXniTCEA6KWitsh0pByYZnktyIwm5_ESVOO0G-Jw7plTv4WCMY91ZIZg9TYVkcwtxAYmRAr1jmqVd9TeztVttHxIcQ/s6000/_A6A1383.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnGzK1J4A6smgzYTESc9i2wXN9XML3yc0P0-1RmfQY2Q3qtVaxZwNWUfI1L9JvA2GWg6-ERBdJvWtG-Bai82tacMRqRio6fCXniTCEA6KWitsh0pByYZnktyIwm5_ESVOO0G-Jw7plTv4WCMY91ZIZg9TYVkcwtxAYmRAr1jmqVd9TeztVttHxIcQ/w426-h640/_A6A1383.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the restrooms are unique</td></tr></tbody></table><p>If you visit any of the restrooms throughout the House on the Rock (and there are plenty at various points--don't worry about having to backtrack or spend hours between them), even those are filled and tricked out with Jordan's eccentric taste. Several of the men's rooms I dropped into had model ships, or as the case at Inspiration Point, a variety of taxidermied woodland creatures situated amidst a décor that can only be described as "sylvan." Other online accounts show the ladies' facilities are similarly eclectic.</p><p>Beyond the rest stop, there's a short walk out in the open air that dead-ends at a viewpoint of the Infinity Room where it juts out from the original house far above. I didn't get any great photos, as the trees blocked most of the view, and the skies were white with the rain we'd been getting off and on all morning. My gut is that a stop during the nighttime experience would be worthwhile, assuming that the viewpoint is accessible on the post-6:30pm tour.</p><p>Once you've had a dose of fresh air, head back inside to resume the Organ Room experience, which is only a bit over halfway complete at this point in the tour.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaoplhRWfljiT_VFE9BoZpQtKwJ5CjWqlB3mbC9cpEegL0sE99uDl06bBqbN0PNtyKn05ZP5QwhZIx_CVS51RcRow9Js93We7JFujKpdnxqHSBZAhi9EL2dkrd_GMTlb7SHDSQHAClQxQIb1rRbGIUb7_91GbnsRFEYtEv92udBY4cqUvD2W14vzG/s5771/_A6A1393.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5771" data-original-width="3847" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaoplhRWfljiT_VFE9BoZpQtKwJ5CjWqlB3mbC9cpEegL0sE99uDl06bBqbN0PNtyKn05ZP5QwhZIx_CVS51RcRow9Js93We7JFujKpdnxqHSBZAhi9EL2dkrd_GMTlb7SHDSQHAClQxQIb1rRbGIUb7_91GbnsRFEYtEv92udBY4cqUvD2W14vzG/w426-h640/_A6A1393.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to the Chalet of the Raven, also known as the Main Street of Hell</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Back inside, several replica cannons and firearms violate rule number one of gun safety in that they point right at visitors. Of course, chances are none are remotely functional and most are outright fabrications, but it's still disconcerting to stare down the barrel of a cannon and a Gatling gun aimed your way!</p><p>Like the prior Streets of Yesterday and Tribute to Nostalgia exhibits, there are several shop windows to peruse, including a bric-a-brac emporium with all the finest millinery and accessories a young witch could want, and another toy store populated with legions of tin soldiers and miniatures (thankfully sans dolls, by and large). </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimIL1F7zYm48xQsjhnwyIsWBRvCaXjazvaBHMVjuMaYJHC59f2rmnA6kQO2aaXW3qoU_0kjvrAuIPgL6IbCcGv-1lKnwl1fzD4OD4hB-IYXtTNEQ1HsSwD8aC6QlkBBwibYU3wbQxBBXnHM5emvj3KL5DLj5yiH6NW-ASqxgIPtYdQmDc3ZFb4i6v/s5898/_A6A1401.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5898" data-original-width="3932" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimIL1F7zYm48xQsjhnwyIsWBRvCaXjazvaBHMVjuMaYJHC59f2rmnA6kQO2aaXW3qoU_0kjvrAuIPgL6IbCcGv-1lKnwl1fzD4OD4hB-IYXtTNEQ1HsSwD8aC6QlkBBwibYU3wbQxBBXnHM5emvj3KL5DLj5yiH6NW-ASqxgIPtYdQmDc3ZFb4i6v/w426-h640/_A6A1401.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cursed antiques and hats, anyone?</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The Organ Room continues on and on, and soon winds visitors back up above the ground floor. Along the way, there are different perspectives on the three main organs and much of the strange, diabolical machinery that fills the space.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUG3shpOaScdbcBw6ST4w4ad_IpOQSzyB9aDo5vGzZakMLf01UpQ5X9T9pnEgFC8Se3urBbZbEtBA6W_x-XyVeKe1qLsYVBrJ27iEW0zqFP6L7k6OGAmMGYTDURnGUQl7j936uLI2G46KQ7mbeP6FaZqKRhvmGqtkZVDCAXs3ehEzsQ3YYxCOWV7R/s6000/_A6A1404.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUG3shpOaScdbcBw6ST4w4ad_IpOQSzyB9aDo5vGzZakMLf01UpQ5X9T9pnEgFC8Se3urBbZbEtBA6W_x-XyVeKe1qLsYVBrJ27iEW0zqFP6L7k6OGAmMGYTDURnGUQl7j936uLI2G46KQ7mbeP6FaZqKRhvmGqtkZVDCAXs3ehEzsQ3YYxCOWV7R/w640-h426/_A6A1404.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That carriage will take you straight to Hell when those electrodes light up!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYebnglC8meSgYkD7lXsiib1s8WAjmSUHBTi5qKSWQVWODQwo1CpEpoA_KvUUlDtiGn43PSBlst2DmJqHgB2XMDx0_ScgIxaaH8g5w6TAN6L3SHUs6p0yRRNHZbm1MyDNgmhMlfDk9IyLLWG24WUIkuXyc7MgjT4nNNgcIuQY_Bc-FCf4FZ_SedrzW/s6000/_A6A1412.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYebnglC8meSgYkD7lXsiib1s8WAjmSUHBTi5qKSWQVWODQwo1CpEpoA_KvUUlDtiGn43PSBlst2DmJqHgB2XMDx0_ScgIxaaH8g5w6TAN6L3SHUs6p0yRRNHZbm1MyDNgmhMlfDk9IyLLWG24WUIkuXyc7MgjT4nNNgcIuQY_Bc-FCf4FZ_SedrzW/w426-h640/_A6A1412.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like Luke became a Sith Lord instead of a Jedi</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBx_WkID5QBszOz247YasGn8QyrPLOub_0DAM5aRzQyhXhSlSq-yNgvJvetn1JMkmbjb2BV76Mp4KRnCJxlB44JHuJZV-gopHF-GitxWVsny9EJSOsI-hxu_Qw2dpFWVblORFibIE60Vi6Ylxw7jMuMcjUKrG5lg0JLegXngywDXYyMVg4ruWHnPed/s5078/_A6A1416.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5078" data-original-width="3385" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBx_WkID5QBszOz247YasGn8QyrPLOub_0DAM5aRzQyhXhSlSq-yNgvJvetn1JMkmbjb2BV76Mp4KRnCJxlB44JHuJZV-gopHF-GitxWVsny9EJSOsI-hxu_Qw2dpFWVblORFibIE60Vi6Ylxw7jMuMcjUKrG5lg0JLegXngywDXYyMVg4ruWHnPed/w426-h640/_A6A1416.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A giant's tankard filled with human blood, no doubt</td></tr></tbody></table><p>If you thought the Organ Room was it for the day's creepy factor, then you were terribly wrong. Exiting the Organ Room for a second time delivers you straight into the Doll Carousel Building, where hundreds of dolls caper and ride the infinite circles of Hell in celebration of the souls they've consumed. </p><p>There are two towering carousels piled floor to ceiling with dolls of all shapes and sizes. Amidst the largest tier on the larger of the two, there's even a skeleton in the background, possibly that of a small child who thought she'd have a tea party with all her new doll friends until they revealed themselves for what they truly are.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsxnzhTZbTZX-_Jyjy_YA9tuVNpz7dMqSw6zgW7SR9xMiOQUKdz2pJcYIA6iqPQ_OsU-_keHMvkCw5y2-ZYoBgmpFR6q7IO_nanjkqKXbhHL6L4Qg_dOMbXJcUdfLK5ENtNAbhphCsc2OjRvCIzy0qvBM0U0kAtNDuTk_J5ExklEmtbYYTEI9U4Fx/s6000/_A6A1467-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsxnzhTZbTZX-_Jyjy_YA9tuVNpz7dMqSw6zgW7SR9xMiOQUKdz2pJcYIA6iqPQ_OsU-_keHMvkCw5y2-ZYoBgmpFR6q7IO_nanjkqKXbhHL6L4Qg_dOMbXJcUdfLK5ENtNAbhphCsc2OjRvCIzy0qvBM0U0kAtNDuTk_J5ExklEmtbYYTEI9U4Fx/w426-h640/_A6A1467-Edit.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The top 3-4 tiers of the smaller of the two doll carousels</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3eSyPwG0BE5kBqBEopvMhV7KgkiKNONj2Ve_bIDmxgBSPICeJlUJKlxIwJioKuQY7gPGpvRfiuJe2UNrZaZ4HDk_6rMkj8DTEOHLyF5686SkRCSpelnb_-OJg3R9E-LD8KPtTudUVo_1UYJ95Ysye85WBnx7Gp5P8GYwtJDeYd8IrFtsVnw1jR9A/s6000/_A6A1688.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3eSyPwG0BE5kBqBEopvMhV7KgkiKNONj2Ve_bIDmxgBSPICeJlUJKlxIwJioKuQY7gPGpvRfiuJe2UNrZaZ4HDk_6rMkj8DTEOHLyF5686SkRCSpelnb_-OJg3R9E-LD8KPtTudUVo_1UYJ95Ysye85WBnx7Gp5P8GYwtJDeYd8IrFtsVnw1jR9A/w640-h426/_A6A1688.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soul-thieving hell beasts posing as cuddly children's toys</td></tr></tbody></table><p>You'll likely want to escape the doll carousel building as quickly as possible (assuming they let you leave)--or perhaps you're into that kind of thing, in which case, feel free to make yourself at home. You'll also get another pass through the doll carousel building after the next several exhibits, as the path winds back into it after visiting the Circus Room and several display galleries, so it's not like they are going to leave you alone for long.</p><p>Unfortunately for the pediophobic, exiting the doll carousel takes you straight into the next circle of Hell: a parade of dollhouses.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73TROTdcPvmi4tBlaenWbuzy6fOcNqRI-ZR4UHxeNRitHWk48OPtJ4NF4viTvgNQgkDjgbU_SeG-hClxQK76krKXnlH7RepEaRxOkGWPme2mE_Gd2WmOHk9S7N5vV9my4ofRKZgpBo2ysnlHn9mJrec0ac77GqH9amArYy8i6tu2e850OnFd-ZP-A/s6000/_A6A1503.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73TROTdcPvmi4tBlaenWbuzy6fOcNqRI-ZR4UHxeNRitHWk48OPtJ4NF4viTvgNQgkDjgbU_SeG-hClxQK76krKXnlH7RepEaRxOkGWPme2mE_Gd2WmOHk9S7N5vV9my4ofRKZgpBo2ysnlHn9mJrec0ac77GqH9amArYy8i6tu2e850OnFd-ZP-A/w640-h426/_A6A1503.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dollhouse interiors are incredibly detailed</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>There are dozens and dozens of dollhouses, including tall townhomes and sprawling mansions. The level of detail featured in several of the houses is fascinating, and I saw several kids doing their best Veruca Salts and demanding their parents provide them each and every one of the houses. The miniature structures are not laid out in any sort of town plan that I could discern, and by and large, are absent appropriately-scaled dolls inhabiting them, with only a handful of lonely residents evident. Perhaps their larger cousins had to resort to cannibalism during a slow season? What small dolls there are often reside under glass domes, even inside their homes, apparently trapped and conserved for later consumption.</p><p>And oh, no, you're not free of the larger dolls even though there are no diminutive residents of the dollhouses. Instead, toddler-sized dolls randomly inhabit the landscape, poised next to dollhouses like the Jolly Green Giant or Godzilla ready to rampage through the town.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFw0EnJkcHsmut-pzfnuBBYxov1o3qeombUq5IBKZ77YV5Xn96_NDPBeHMou1SHjA_uf8HV8FH5lBRNiv2QJr7r8fSduBnAd3NfIbdclHlG5akwtvKsscG4qMwuIPoBg5oLsOxCXU7hHo8bzfD2giQlKZJ5mUXjgiWYNTz1r4WhD7q_kdztlO0Mgu/s6000/_A6A1514.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFw0EnJkcHsmut-pzfnuBBYxov1o3qeombUq5IBKZ77YV5Xn96_NDPBeHMou1SHjA_uf8HV8FH5lBRNiv2QJr7r8fSduBnAd3NfIbdclHlG5akwtvKsscG4qMwuIPoBg5oLsOxCXU7hHo8bzfD2giQlKZJ5mUXjgiWYNTz1r4WhD7q_kdztlO0Mgu/w426-h640/_A6A1514.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I want to kill you, forever, and ever, and ever!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The dollhouses continue on with several side exhibits and small galleries before eventually reaching the Circus Room, the last multi-leveled large space in the House on the Rock. It's described as "all things circus," and indeed, there are several sprawling circus displays laid out in miniature within the glassed-in enclosures. Big tops, stands of fans, a lion tamer's cage, trapeze artists, a circus train, and even a circus paddlewheel steamboat, all led off with a life-sized freak show display advertising the "Frog Girl" (fortunately depicted only on a billboard and not via any of the figures displayed).</p><p>The main space features a towering automaton marching band and orchestra display, along with an elephant pyramid. The band is arranged on a different levels of a large circus wagon, while the orchestra faces them on the upper level.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKobi4mDI3V89WAj6nVfbvioWfBq4MOitYyT1B8pSbLXKwgRCrL2CfRcQsg3vHHmhxLRFF3JdYB-aAl_vs_3krAUoiL4F1DgTaK11nOBz0lgSkoofCQzR-6Mscy62UQfuFQxqz77khPMV2wRToQd-9KBYRePvMirlp4WUeapi7puLYvqQqExYG3j4/s6000/_A6A1583.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKobi4mDI3V89WAj6nVfbvioWfBq4MOitYyT1B8pSbLXKwgRCrL2CfRcQsg3vHHmhxLRFF3JdYB-aAl_vs_3krAUoiL4F1DgTaK11nOBz0lgSkoofCQzR-6Mscy62UQfuFQxqz77khPMV2wRToQd-9KBYRePvMirlp4WUeapi7puLYvqQqExYG3j4/w640-h426/_A6A1583.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back view of the multi-level wagon hosting the marching band</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4qOhcYkJK9h49V4D4sKutHlTbrKpFrLpqyA86GFlqs7tjIGOEM_jWbvN0uUofxywjqhBfl7ayEt68snk6Nrzlutknpg0NYHn25lKj96ib-ONYA6qjuGzn2O6w1FRrUCi04oHN7ZsoXweXrIGtMz2tOKh7p6fPecdmb8LfY6cDIgo9SLsWxV7DFU_/s5749/_A6A1586.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3833" data-original-width="5749" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4qOhcYkJK9h49V4D4sKutHlTbrKpFrLpqyA86GFlqs7tjIGOEM_jWbvN0uUofxywjqhBfl7ayEt68snk6Nrzlutknpg0NYHn25lKj96ib-ONYA6qjuGzn2O6w1FRrUCi04oHN7ZsoXweXrIGtMz2tOKh7p6fPecdmb8LfY6cDIgo9SLsWxV7DFU_/w640-h426/_A6A1586.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accompanied by an orchestra</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Much like the sea monster hall back in Section 2, wall galleries line all levels of the Circus Room. Most are filled with a "complete" collection of Baranger Motion displays, which are small animated jewelry store window displays, most of them pushing diamonds. Several of the Baranger displays function, and you merely depress the red button on the cabinets to animate several at once (no tokens required).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo51PKdippfVBXfr4ci0OkazD4_h3R7v_USQyxMbgA5Y_4WhlZR6O21gK5HIXqsNB0vDQac4j6tJfaVa2sxRROLRxaC0OMB9K_hc_2zc6gbcZr27F45MX4JcPr0M8qE2Rx886WRiBWVJScni-EimjZQHnVrf1oGmB2EOh2YDfLEx2PvlIoobuciyob/s5602/_A6A1552.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3735" data-original-width="5602" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo51PKdippfVBXfr4ci0OkazD4_h3R7v_USQyxMbgA5Y_4WhlZR6O21gK5HIXqsNB0vDQac4j6tJfaVa2sxRROLRxaC0OMB9K_hc_2zc6gbcZr27F45MX4JcPr0M8qE2Rx886WRiBWVJScni-EimjZQHnVrf1oGmB2EOh2YDfLEx2PvlIoobuciyob/w400-h266/_A6A1552.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The owl officiating this wedding looks a lot like the officiant from <i>Beetlejuice</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJtwahMpLcWJUVkqdLPoTuYzZsGGdeFvRXl3KW0YsJC1RI57TeRcKFIOdW233s5aiB5qdUi_HE1h_enBP9HUxS7CydKpaQUKUwtxwhuzj6hRy4kApMtcmsaxJg7sQCStnURbQRLu1HGe6zYUxPb0FUch2k8GlhZoyz9RmqSdx7mUmTA3HrE4LmSJX/s5338/_A6A1570.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3559" data-original-width="5338" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJtwahMpLcWJUVkqdLPoTuYzZsGGdeFvRXl3KW0YsJC1RI57TeRcKFIOdW233s5aiB5qdUi_HE1h_enBP9HUxS7CydKpaQUKUwtxwhuzj6hRy4kApMtcmsaxJg7sQCStnURbQRLu1HGe6zYUxPb0FUch2k8GlhZoyz9RmqSdx7mUmTA3HrE4LmSJX/w400-h266/_A6A1570.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing says matrimony like subjecting your fiancé to the old circular saw routine</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There's also... this guy. There aren't that many clowns featured in the House on the Rock; I suppose that Alex Jordan either didn't find them creepy enough, or else he was absolutely terrified of them and couldn't bear to load up his home with their evil. Which is probably for the best; who knows what an army of killer clowns would do paired up with all those soul-stealing dolls?</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheN7SzrOi_SDCkPsX6okk8_OCr686E1dAs1N8sgGz6hRgTmdzlu45n72vpOnRurZZvYnIm6RVhzAvhi78_Km9ARxyxFQ7PoQ4Dvoe1E9J8WqpO9LoBqzsfA287mRFK86a-15B2egNQa-QMV1Dr9J1_ar8MsXx0Rw464XsC5lILnrfJp_a2KeuCGSpc/s5482/_A6A1535.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5482" data-original-width="3655" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheN7SzrOi_SDCkPsX6okk8_OCr686E1dAs1N8sgGz6hRgTmdzlu45n72vpOnRurZZvYnIm6RVhzAvhi78_Km9ARxyxFQ7PoQ4Dvoe1E9J8WqpO9LoBqzsfA287mRFK86a-15B2egNQa-QMV1Dr9J1_ar8MsXx0Rw464XsC5lILnrfJp_a2KeuCGSpc/w426-h640/_A6A1535.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You'll float, too!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Yes, that's a disembodied arm floating over the clown machine. Seeing it there stuck in my mental gears for a while before I realized, "Oh, the elbow! It's supposed to be a funny bone!" What a laugh for sure. I While I was there, a family took their small child up and dropped in a token, and tested their kid's funny bone, subjecting him to the clown's screeching laughter. Har har har.</p><p>Progressing from the Circus Room onward leads through a series of galleries. There's a large display of antique firearms (no comment on how many are real), followed by what can only be described as an Orientalism gallery, featuring many carved ivory items (purported to be authentic, by permission of the feds given ivory's sensitivity, though at least one is a well-known fake) and creepy, demonic puppets and totems. One thing in the firearms gallery that really struck me as odd: a prosthetic leg with a holdout derringer. I know <i>Grindhouse: Planet Terror</i> featured replacing an amputated leg with a machine gun, but this is the first "real" instance of arming (pun intended) a prosthetic that I've seen.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpubezl3ei8O2pPeMgRXgFMGZNeM7wEaFq3e5EW6BVL2X6ybgsVA03nPmUzGK1CpCUd14WUvZmuu-yUQ7yFZdEzj7iY_DONP-5orUFw5_tMig3tYEngl3MHjXwUnV41ty4ucpXe4qzxNRvT5VD6dcYR4my65PLcaE52-1ZC5dlC9aNxQulasBui1i_/s6000/_A6A1592.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpubezl3ei8O2pPeMgRXgFMGZNeM7wEaFq3e5EW6BVL2X6ybgsVA03nPmUzGK1CpCUd14WUvZmuu-yUQ7yFZdEzj7iY_DONP-5orUFw5_tMig3tYEngl3MHjXwUnV41ty4ucpXe4qzxNRvT5VD6dcYR4my65PLcaE52-1ZC5dlC9aNxQulasBui1i_/w640-h426/_A6A1592.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpBCsPzdWiplTGz2lNPpfMgE3b24oMviB-w0aAkwu6MKOL4CpcxfFm6blT84vTIbToOq3TTlKtVDEbYiQksvnLoGjQ7x247rkbQLUmbJ6QgTuX0aWQUWBN9XbdjnsvaCNylkTax7x1oT4EfCbH5tNwU_g8DkzSvX4MkQWzJ-RmtSZ1zt0TkntFYRb/s5467/_A6A1628.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3645" data-original-width="5467" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpBCsPzdWiplTGz2lNPpfMgE3b24oMviB-w0aAkwu6MKOL4CpcxfFm6blT84vTIbToOq3TTlKtVDEbYiQksvnLoGjQ7x247rkbQLUmbJ6QgTuX0aWQUWBN9XbdjnsvaCNylkTax7x1oT4EfCbH5tNwU_g8DkzSvX4MkQWzJ-RmtSZ1zt0TkntFYRb/w640-h426/_A6A1628.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They're on better than speaking terms with the dolls, I'm sure...</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Beyond the quasi-Asian exhibits are some of the most fake items on display: Replicas of the British crown jewels alongside several armor displays, both simply standing in cases as well as arranged in life-sized tableaus. House on the Rock states in their materials that they fabricated all the armor on-site; none of the pieces are antiques--but they definitely look nice.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZD6a4KaKKFVKSGHZULZIiWe4T_Kzedy53Y-0Gxbk1BJXJyVkxu6SwUJrWVoT-dtP-P763psdJ1HF-xlzLcccL6BDVjQ4Ow5KqJv8O4GnqnTtQUMSiuvX4FyfhTv9dELu6XN_kPBOjKMDEorSB3wWG4qfMLM1rmb1mCJoZOcRV-zZG1b_a9Tqv33-s/s6000/_A6A1664.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZD6a4KaKKFVKSGHZULZIiWe4T_Kzedy53Y-0Gxbk1BJXJyVkxu6SwUJrWVoT-dtP-P763psdJ1HF-xlzLcccL6BDVjQ4Ow5KqJv8O4GnqnTtQUMSiuvX4FyfhTv9dELu6XN_kPBOjKMDEorSB3wWG4qfMLM1rmb1mCJoZOcRV-zZG1b_a9Tqv33-s/w640-h426/_A6A1664.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of several tableaus depicting knights at war. This one appears to show an ambush of a Japanese samurai; another features a battle with an armored elephant. This was definitely the highlight of the day for one of the families touring, as the kid kept shouting and cackling, "El caballo! El caballo!" ("The horse!")</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4gNaePuB-1foA7v3t-pNurPshsFtOgQwLnkWDpd8WqjO9poQrWT__kWybRnsF8F-CHG_DoaptYQEz_fXnJNxJlosAjBR3LRCDf8tmN9_gYrTlSXAfrk6YXCNHVy-91Yzb1S4vnbxwIGHPmbbGJRWT5vuB1CQ4UeR937mw8qDALxCyTxQJePpmBBv/s4818/_A6A1671.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3212" data-original-width="4818" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4gNaePuB-1foA7v3t-pNurPshsFtOgQwLnkWDpd8WqjO9poQrWT__kWybRnsF8F-CHG_DoaptYQEz_fXnJNxJlosAjBR3LRCDf8tmN9_gYrTlSXAfrk6YXCNHVy-91Yzb1S4vnbxwIGHPmbbGJRWT5vuB1CQ4UeR937mw8qDALxCyTxQJePpmBBv/w640-h426/_A6A1671.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Way back in the Alex Jordan Center, there was a placard explaining something about Jordan having special-ordered replica crown jewels.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The galleries extend the length of the Circus Room and dollhouse rooms, paralleling them on the way back toward Hell (that is, the Doll Carousel Building). There's a lot to see for sure, but I'd have loved to have a few more automata included through the route to break things up.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6nUpDELlYx2tFFGZSG579JjwbSZe7T3Qi0ASecAMwR7HqzzI81Eun-Dkupw_R3N0a0f_WK7gN_d0Wy_DRiUjP68tgkcSLWV0dQPaO-BVYRniMO9w-AYQjghBRX5FFBybDryU9POhix4q7bEeNFvr0W--fEmYq_KBzvlHWjv_FG9rlcKYpjafx5eV/s6000/_A6A1667.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6nUpDELlYx2tFFGZSG579JjwbSZe7T3Qi0ASecAMwR7HqzzI81Eun-Dkupw_R3N0a0f_WK7gN_d0Wy_DRiUjP68tgkcSLWV0dQPaO-BVYRniMO9w-AYQjghBRX5FFBybDryU9POhix4q7bEeNFvr0W--fEmYq_KBzvlHWjv_FG9rlcKYpjafx5eV/w640-h426/_A6A1667.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too many anachronisms to count; I don't think Hannibal's forces clashed with knights in full plate, although I admit my European medieval history is a bit rusty (har har)</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Speaking of the return to the Doll Carousel Building, not only will you get better (if one can describe revisiting that hellscape with such a superlative) view of the giant spinning Satan's wedding cakes stacked full of dolls, but you'll uncover more disturbing details, like the dark fairies poised atop the carousels.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig99gRJfl1fsxqsktXfqnisnh36YQAt-hYLR_QzvmXjHDjxcT6QjXuPfiygv_0xLZKdfiJjTb-i4gal0oOx5ok8YZ544fCOgeg-BrTZT7dgk9XViko1jgGOBNVwY5sonOIzFowefhN1tMggi3TwpF1tcaJ9wAYrNIAHfp4_5_vcv8CtqsQUGNR6o46/s6000/_A6A1817.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig99gRJfl1fsxqsktXfqnisnh36YQAt-hYLR_QzvmXjHDjxcT6QjXuPfiygv_0xLZKdfiJjTb-i4gal0oOx5ok8YZ544fCOgeg-BrTZT7dgk9XViko1jgGOBNVwY5sonOIzFowefhN1tMggi3TwpF1tcaJ9wAYrNIAHfp4_5_vcv8CtqsQUGNR6o46/w640-h426/_A6A1817.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Did I say disturbing figures atop the doll carousels? Yeah, I said that, but I don't think the statement alone is sufficient to prepare you for what unfolds.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje24GwsVxlaNKmfhkBfHRvvnFqYt-l6DE4mQyZEqLfjGeS0Xbd6-rpp5Bi2UQqv3SCQ4-UXUFYLO2k1hpaRHhYfmkYYopQaw0eiF6kQ9wDAlJMKspwcqc6JsQ8vr2522PNSy1lzk6iRDRex-zgYnQi8A1nRXsWRpN60ul_sv-LYYwjKTiT5FgCuN6l/s6000/_A6A1801.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje24GwsVxlaNKmfhkBfHRvvnFqYt-l6DE4mQyZEqLfjGeS0Xbd6-rpp5Bi2UQqv3SCQ4-UXUFYLO2k1hpaRHhYfmkYYopQaw0eiF6kQ9wDAlJMKspwcqc6JsQ8vr2522PNSy1lzk6iRDRex-zgYnQi8A1nRXsWRpN60ul_sv-LYYwjKTiT5FgCuN6l/w640-h426/_A6A1801.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure the next step in this story involves sealing someone up inside a wicker man and setting it aflame</td></tr></tbody></table><p>After the second pass of the Doll Carousel Building, it's time at last to finally discover how to access that upper catwalk back in the main carousel room, where you'll get not only a better vantage over the carousel but of the flocks of angels soaring overhead. We're almost done!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuoD23FMWOLPv60AS3K7R3WZi23ojILmYDNxHZgxeIt8Cn3QeNy4zwav6fvHeKDaopTLNrhpoxFbUf3zhkYI_PxOGaKQWRmKmYdHLnCuTDCB-0l1uRIEX0Hoj9XMb8Iw4Ol2ohHmdCnR2O13KgI9ukfIJJ3QI2KSj9_0zrI_hVzJ1MwHfwra1ino2/s6000/_A6A1843-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuoD23FMWOLPv60AS3K7R3WZi23ojILmYDNxHZgxeIt8Cn3QeNy4zwav6fvHeKDaopTLNrhpoxFbUf3zhkYI_PxOGaKQWRmKmYdHLnCuTDCB-0l1uRIEX0Hoj9XMb8Iw4Ol2ohHmdCnR2O13KgI9ukfIJJ3QI2KSj9_0zrI_hVzJ1MwHfwra1ino2/w640-h426/_A6A1843-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Viewing the "world's largest indoor carousel" from above, just before the exit door</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Signs direct you to the "Final Exit," which after some of the Dante-esque experiences throughout this journey could be seen as a chilling double entendre. The door opens back into the daylight, emerging on the upper level of the Carousel Building onto one of the ubiquitous covered open-air walkways--see the photo early in this post. From there, the next stop is a tour of the Japanese Gardens, which feature a waterfall and several streams and koi ponds.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkTh5QZ9Whws8DDUUYo9oQiY8nG0stSf0L5Hwh6Ug9tS0MqxGaTEe0gS9Khco3nJXLDPFivDsXYGMATzqurCGVMC0vRyDH4iRr3NYqWHNF7LJJ2krTXwhY8CmIlUUtyBrgbDx5SVhLNqaGa9SU8jrxukyZQS_89uA9r9NTH2aQPJsDWqu5b22-o7YH/s5911/_A6A0670.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3941" data-original-width="5911" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkTh5QZ9Whws8DDUUYo9oQiY8nG0stSf0L5Hwh6Ug9tS0MqxGaTEe0gS9Khco3nJXLDPFivDsXYGMATzqurCGVMC0vRyDH4iRr3NYqWHNF7LJJ2krTXwhY8CmIlUUtyBrgbDx5SVhLNqaGa9SU8jrxukyZQS_89uA9r9NTH2aQPJsDWqu5b22-o7YH/w640-h426/_A6A0670.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down over the Japanese Gardens from inside the Alex Jordan center</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There's a somewhat minimalist gift shop before the last stretch back to the welcome center; I didn't come across anything that struck me as must-have, though a few lightweight backpacks they sold with the House on the Rock logo would have come in handy carrying my extra camera battery and lenses (I'd forgotten my normal belt packs and shoulder bag at home--necessitating the improvisation of tossing them in my travel pillowcase slung around my wrist for the entire walk). Apparently someone took Michael Richan's characters' advice; Eliza had mused in <i>The Haunting of Pitmon House</i>, "Why do we even sell fudge in the gift shop?" as indeed, no fudge was in any evidence.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXmVZrIzc32WyWr25FIhmeJ3Sutmb9QUmZv55Mn2Mv-Ul-M6C3i4ZwE8tieb5rI8K0Fj73w6eEcPgqA7yYj_tFGkpXEptC7dkboDhs7YOgXaemG4cy96erlBJZHDSpQ4oIVHIizEYErao-w_jkcVNYXCE-2zETATBwlEdymNvl3m3NBTzZkf-dqJB/s5938/_A6A1854.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3959" data-original-width="5938" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXmVZrIzc32WyWr25FIhmeJ3Sutmb9QUmZv55Mn2Mv-Ul-M6C3i4ZwE8tieb5rI8K0Fj73w6eEcPgqA7yYj_tFGkpXEptC7dkboDhs7YOgXaemG4cy96erlBJZHDSpQ4oIVHIizEYErao-w_jkcVNYXCE-2zETATBwlEdymNvl3m3NBTzZkf-dqJB/w400-h266/_A6A1854.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windows out onto the forest from the periphery of the Japanese Garden</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cTOizMgkDmT3ed4j0Jxm4kspd33z1LQm87-VfFh-ILbqhB0V44wGW9APUL9-2Xet8gM9iNJ0BiucgYJhEgbOh5YanNvPcXdSaAjo7KTrZcDKKuiR6Oy8hMdlRRnWC2yxfuYXAR5uMc2GB_9Uz9D0mrd2jizhzOgPHzvNKyWexhl7QYEad9JvwUcQ/s6000/_A6A1909.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cTOizMgkDmT3ed4j0Jxm4kspd33z1LQm87-VfFh-ILbqhB0V44wGW9APUL9-2Xet8gM9iNJ0BiucgYJhEgbOh5YanNvPcXdSaAjo7KTrZcDKKuiR6Oy8hMdlRRnWC2yxfuYXAR5uMc2GB_9Uz9D0mrd2jizhzOgPHzvNKyWexhl7QYEad9JvwUcQ/w640-h426/_A6A1909.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a nice weather day, the Japanese Gardens are quite nice, if more compact that you'd expect given the scale of the House on the Rock exhibits themselves</td></tr></tbody></table><p>And that's it! We've survived the visit to the House on the Rock without having our souls stolen by legions of diabolical dolls, passed through the midnight-frozen streets of yesterday and into a macabre series of demonic Chuck E. Cheese musical automatons, escaped the hellmouth of the Devil's Throat and the infernal machinery beyond.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Wrapping Up - Travel Details</h2><p style="text-align: left;">The House on the Rock is located between the towns of Spring Green and Dodgeville, Wisconsin, along state highway 23. It's about an hour's drive from downtown Madison depending on traffic.</p><p style="text-align: left;">The facility is open year-round, though days of operation vary: During the summer (May 16 - September 25 in 2022), it's open 7 days a week, while during off-peak season the House on the Rock is usually closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Operating hours vary by season but are typically 9:00am - 5:00pm, with the last admission at 3:00pm. For the most up to date information on hours and polices, <a href="https://www.thehouseontherock.com/exhibits/regular-season/" target="_blank">check the House on the Rock website</a>.</p><p>No outside food is permitted, but there's currently a restaurant halfway through, just past the Streets of Yesterday, which sells pizza and drinks. There are a variety of restaurants serving breakfast and dinner in the towns of Spring Green and Dodgeville, including fast food.</p><p>Both nearby towns offer a variety of motels, including some national chains (Best Western, Quality Inn). The House on the Rock Resort is located close to Spring Green a few miles north of the attraction and offers packages that include the cost of admission (my king suite was around $170, which when you factor in the $32 admission price put it pretty much on the same price point as the Dodgeville Best Western for what was definitely a bigger room).</p><p>Most major airlines serve Madison's Dane County Airport; I'm a United 1K and Million Miler, so I chose to connect in Chicago from Dulles (Delta offers nonstop service from National Airport, for what it's worth).</p><p>So what are you waiting for? Make your travel plans today to visit this unique, fascinating, creepy, kitschy nightmare of a roadside attraction today!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSN6smH-ijW0Kiyep6K4KJ_jGRnO33wS7Tm0WeEQSYmBrFYD2VQ_-tO_OULr_xpQGxRFvK7Yo9Hgc5Rxag5handlyll5BUon_yanRTeW5mf4a1gNc1-nidNPHvGwxP-6-ExMCTJP9LLQCtNcszJJJvuD8gwbkyDG2RtREYp5sd4-_EZYf84ToYfJkf/s1885/_A6A1996.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1257" data-original-width="1885" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSN6smH-ijW0Kiyep6K4KJ_jGRnO33wS7Tm0WeEQSYmBrFYD2VQ_-tO_OULr_xpQGxRFvK7Yo9Hgc5Rxag5handlyll5BUon_yanRTeW5mf4a1gNc1-nidNPHvGwxP-6-ExMCTJP9LLQCtNcszJJJvuD8gwbkyDG2RtREYp5sd4-_EZYf84ToYfJkf/w640-h426/_A6A1996.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-58591063181679330482022-06-20T19:06:00.002-04:002022-06-20T19:06:31.789-04:00Remembering Chance - Celebrating a Goofball<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBgsbZynm4UvnAMP_c9ksKL1YCBac9AGcktzSLhLy3CTRrs5_v-soRtJzJN_j7Vqd6q3jfxQvqnLEWDp9CaTKYhp_uVQ688-tn6DSImYN22F6Rrs2PrBaFLDzzRrTV76x3p0XrpSCOW9vGjW41U9tGUc4LLiKNZH7nwOb2tDERMzIVfRq6yp-MQsB/s2161/IMG_0664.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Chance, Our Fluffy Goofball" border="0" data-original-height="2161" data-original-width="2161" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBgsbZynm4UvnAMP_c9ksKL1YCBac9AGcktzSLhLy3CTRrs5_v-soRtJzJN_j7Vqd6q3jfxQvqnLEWDp9CaTKYhp_uVQ688-tn6DSImYN22F6Rrs2PrBaFLDzzRrTV76x3p0XrpSCOW9vGjW41U9tGUc4LLiKNZH7nwOb2tDERMzIVfRq6yp-MQsB/w400-h400/IMG_0664.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>On June 10, 2022, we lost our little goofball Chance, our eldest Papillon who had been part of our family--a founding resident of <i>Chateau Papillon, </i>as we named our home--for over 15 years. Although Chance was getting up there in years (just weeks from turning 16!) and not without the health issues that come with getting older, his death was nonetheless sudden and a shock that has left us stunned and greatly saddened.</p><p>Reflecting back on his life and the huge role he played in our family during those years is cathartic, though, and we want to make this memory a celebration, not a dirge. Chance went about life with a goofy grin on his face, his tongue dangling to the side, and even when he was a curmudgeon, he nonetheless always made us smile with his antics.</p><p>Chance was so many things to us, and I'm sure after writing this account, I'll slap my forehead and realize I left something special out. So consider this a first chapter only, so to speak; I'm sure we'll be back with more memories of our special boy again later.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Papillon Thunderdome</h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02rqcuYRfwy6BxpdTVrfNtJwm2Y5HI6P7skBLoTit04yxXsUBbiT-R6khm4u87V-sy4sA23JMWOTd32GbUKSI53JqLJPnThlaPWkT2mwlzfSaxQ0xTFrD3neL1aIgMcSOz1OMvezOogUirIDUvEb87yRfG-utvTRAvg_BCnO2xLYFj3knfa8F_tUf/s2542/IMG_6683.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance and Didi Wrestle in the Leaves" border="0" data-original-height="1695" data-original-width="2542" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02rqcuYRfwy6BxpdTVrfNtJwm2Y5HI6P7skBLoTit04yxXsUBbiT-R6khm4u87V-sy4sA23JMWOTd32GbUKSI53JqLJPnThlaPWkT2mwlzfSaxQ0xTFrD3neL1aIgMcSOz1OMvezOogUirIDUvEb87yRfG-utvTRAvg_BCnO2xLYFj3knfa8F_tUf/w640-h426/IMG_6683.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance and Didi wrestle in the leaves at our Vienna rental--Didi was undefeatable!</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shortly before we married, Beth and I adopted our first Papillon, Didi, in 2005. The following year, Didi's breeder offered us the chance (pun intended) to adopt her half-sibling Chance. On that very first day, Chance walked up, looked me over, and raised his leg on my shoe: "CLAIMED!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chance came home with us on Didi's birthday in 2007, and immediately Didi exclaimed, "THIS is the present you got me?! Are you insane, Daddi?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The two shared the same mother, making them half-siblings. They became fast friends, but my goodness, how they wrestled! Didi needed an outlet for her high energy, and Chance, though himself just about the last dog you'd call "energetic" nonetheless loved to challenge Didi. He'd "hide" in the leaves, the snow, or out in the open (thinking that hunkering down or creeping toward her would keep him hidden), stalking her slowly, often in full view, then would pounce to start yet another bout of Papillon Thunderdome.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGp8KWGusnIkQh87KKuoH7jojt-8k6dseJJkbHoXB6J30WzzRFRqj9jDh3-QsyeOu0ibcWIWFFhsQwcMCxndKo2w1J7u2tsS2kpxLwIAvxDWnzTXiaUNgO2u2TMRXxklWghO_6GuCYuIt-rs8hoBupLfO1jNYUxPKgzE4bzxx1Fb0fwCSRLFoW7oZ/s2508/IMG_5526.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance and Didi wrestling in the beanbag chair" border="0" data-original-height="1672" data-original-width="2508" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGp8KWGusnIkQh87KKuoH7jojt-8k6dseJJkbHoXB6J30WzzRFRqj9jDh3-QsyeOu0ibcWIWFFhsQwcMCxndKo2w1J7u2tsS2kpxLwIAvxDWnzTXiaUNgO2u2TMRXxklWghO_6GuCYuIt-rs8hoBupLfO1jNYUxPKgzE4bzxx1Fb0fwCSRLFoW7oZ/w400-h266/IMG_5526.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Papillon enter, one Papillon leaves! It's THUNDERDOME time!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>As ferocious as they look, it was indeed play, and if Chance ever escalated, Didi would flip him off of her and lecture him with her high-pitched barks. Eventually, as they got older, Chance gave up on trying to take the Thunderdome crown from Didi.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcV3w1tFAbL5pyQTmhYf5C7abKjzX7NlWts02PTbFznTfSoiXD8BWNfNmVViBYyZyJT0S8qXE-Su_3yhM0RNg3jBP-cAz-ZlLMY90u7ko_SuyfPoH6U6pm9PAfxkqCAmHx-6w5oKKBC5jHqjXqGhTZLehz-dafZnvy2cjb-dbUud-dBwlNE_7U-ITh/s3196/_MG_6292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2131" data-original-width="3196" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcV3w1tFAbL5pyQTmhYf5C7abKjzX7NlWts02PTbFznTfSoiXD8BWNfNmVViBYyZyJT0S8qXE-Su_3yhM0RNg3jBP-cAz-ZlLMY90u7ko_SuyfPoH6U6pm9PAfxkqCAmHx-6w5oKKBC5jHqjXqGhTZLehz-dafZnvy2cjb-dbUud-dBwlNE_7U-ITh/w640-h426/_MG_6292.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p>At the end of the day, no matter the roughhousing, Chance and Didi were friends and would snuggle up together in bed.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Mr. Daddy's Boy</h2><p>Anyone who has had pets for very long comes to realize they all have their own distinct personalities. Indeed, to a degree more so than any of our other pets, Chance took on a larger-than-life one. He was a character, but we made him a character, too, building a narrative and a voice for him over the more than fifteen years he was part of our lives.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAD1-usCOMe7LIABee2G7ONVOv-Uh0aVeTTf7bUU5GyiouWU67Nua_RSe_qqrldBTHxSZV5HOQjnY9VdiDzxTSF33cndvbWwp5GkdH2nyjI1ueUsiMdXx1zNPQHYc3SFInxPkh1gPd5inx2hzEqnP3PIvpRim96DXWloisjfhP6AG6YjbZZ4COow0/s6110/_K2A5676-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4073" data-original-width="6110" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAD1-usCOMe7LIABee2G7ONVOv-Uh0aVeTTf7bUU5GyiouWU67Nua_RSe_qqrldBTHxSZV5HOQjnY9VdiDzxTSF33cndvbWwp5GkdH2nyjI1ueUsiMdXx1zNPQHYc3SFInxPkh1gPd5inx2hzEqnP3PIvpRim96DXWloisjfhP6AG6YjbZZ4COow0/w640-h426/_K2A5676-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mr. Daddy, that ice cream sure looks good. I hope you saved some for your little Chance!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">I always insisted Chance stand on formality and call me "Mr. Daddy," and not just "Daddy." Beth would frequently try to help Chance sneak around that, often with him saying, "my daddy," or even outright sneaking in a plain, "Daddy."</p><p style="text-align: left;">I regret that Chance didn't make it to his 16th birthday party; one of my gifts to him was going to be relaxing that formality.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlV7qdYohnojzFfmhs2BkF41pDXXS42lhNJdNAYaoHdPQ5Gzuev_1PNsiYBgJSwtUXC04Vc3tLb7Fyq-WdNEuB7jHS8Sp1iAn-5Ypuop_iSobqQqAFvkjeOfeNcPI5z3JMjZ9M96gWehCVrO8e4UUZHcM0Ard_7kMMdh-SmA0hF-WK_604orWtSocx/s5304/_MG_4991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Pupsters with a Father's Day card for Mr. Daddy" border="0" data-original-height="3536" data-original-width="5304" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlV7qdYohnojzFfmhs2BkF41pDXXS42lhNJdNAYaoHdPQ5Gzuev_1PNsiYBgJSwtUXC04Vc3tLb7Fyq-WdNEuB7jHS8Sp1iAn-5Ypuop_iSobqQqAFvkjeOfeNcPI5z3JMjZ9M96gWehCVrO8e4UUZHcM0Ard_7kMMdh-SmA0hF-WK_604orWtSocx/w640-h426/_MG_4991.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I picked the card out myself, Mr. Daddy! I told Mommy it had to be the biggest card they had!"</td></tr></tbody></table><h2 style="text-align: left;">Mommy's Little Sunny Bunny</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhb3o0nQGX0HuglStP6rQoGNrCQOxYVqD8Ro7zOIMBXLVmuvgI2sPk6z44t74tnbQWVMP8ZPXznjFxiEEVxM0Vk-8musYbNVFqah6ooPkE5aZmpban_JCSFBHIeeUACBtnysMatceFNWvy3Vt2FKdFvOLMa-8VbFMb3LFWtoRKJ1CMyisUHOMIr4z/s2260/IMG_0206.jpg" style="display: inline; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="1507" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhb3o0nQGX0HuglStP6rQoGNrCQOxYVqD8Ro7zOIMBXLVmuvgI2sPk6z44t74tnbQWVMP8ZPXznjFxiEEVxM0Vk-8musYbNVFqah6ooPkE5aZmpban_JCSFBHIeeUACBtnysMatceFNWvy3Vt2FKdFvOLMa-8VbFMb3LFWtoRKJ1CMyisUHOMIr4z/w266-h400/IMG_0206.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><p></p><p>Beth brought Chance home as her first Papillon--Didi was mine, although as you can see, the allegiances changed throughout the years, with Didi becoming "Ms. Küüki's girl" and Chance wanting to have Mr. Daddy as a member of his Boy's Club.</p><p>Yet Chance was always "Mommy's Little Sunny Bunny." He loved to find a patch of sunlight, often out in the yard, where he would relax while Didi charged around and demanded we throw her ball, or while Didi "helped" garden (which was way too much work for Chance). Where Didi was high-energy bordering on hyperactive, particularly when outdoors, Chance was laid-back quite to the point of laziness.</p><p style="text-align: left;">As I described above, each of our pets had a slightly different way of thinking of Beth and me, and for Chance, he always saw Beth as simply "Mommy." Sometimes (often, perhaps), it was a demanding "Mommy!" that called to mind <i>Family Guy's </i>Stewie--without the matricidal intent, of course--as he found her thorough dinner prep to take entirely too long. Other times, it was a plaintive wish, asking, "Mommy, I want Snausages... you'll get me some now?" or, "You know, it's my birfday soon; I hope you're planning a great party?"</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Chance's Vivid Imagination</h2><p>Those of you who know us likely understand that we're a bit kooky, and that we let Chance be an outlet for that lighthearted but often cynical voice (literally--I spoke for him, in a lilting, somewhat lispy voice). Through his words, Chance expressed a grand imagination, often seeing the world just beyond his own as a fantastical place.</p><p>Chance frequently talked about organizing "Camp Chance," which typically seemed just a step shy of glamping. We never really took Chance on a regular camping trip--largely because his half-sister Didi would have barked all night at the slightest sounds outside--but we did "camp" with him indoors, and had planned to "camp" out on our deck as part of his 16th birthday celebrations (assuming the weather wasn't too hot).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_j3KKkIwhNhGXpgcUxX42AYp18A-7J0KQ4L8VggBXsj5HJy5Vj4-iH0KM4IExoa2coY7LHvYxlImw1fsxPBbmBh9t_gH0vP4pG3AwIDRSqaZm_iFAnID4oqs_7mQ2iWqwhizEBEnfVsxIPOqE4EFiKKvAqnXeOTORhVBBzJF-k1vJ2eDPkp3TUxX/s5472/_MG_8264.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_j3KKkIwhNhGXpgcUxX42AYp18A-7J0KQ4L8VggBXsj5HJy5Vj4-iH0KM4IExoa2coY7LHvYxlImw1fsxPBbmBh9t_gH0vP4pG3AwIDRSqaZm_iFAnID4oqs_7mQ2iWqwhizEBEnfVsxIPOqE4EFiKKvAqnXeOTORhVBBzJF-k1vJ2eDPkp3TUxX/w640-h426/_MG_8264.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp Chance set up in our library for his 10th birthday celebration, complete with a "campfire" and a pup tent to spend the night with Mr. Daddy while "those beasts" (all the girl dogs) spent the night with his Mommy.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">Aside from Camp Chance, we made Chance the center of many stories narrated by our Alexa smart speaker, all of which revolved around Chance, his friends, and of course, Snausages. We'd always meant to create a series of children's books about Chance (the first entry being named <i>A Dog Named Poop</i>); perhaps we still will. I'll come back to those stories in a few minutes, after you get a chance (pun intended, again) to meet some of his friends and see some of the rest of his everyday life.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Here's a snippet from one of our Chance stories:</p><blockquote><p style="text-align: left;">Once upon a time, there was a fox named Freddie and a dog named Chance. Freddie and Chance were best friends, and their favorite food in the whole world was Snausage.</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>It so happened that a terrible beast named Lexi bought all the Snausage in the world, and then she used her magic to burn down all the Snausage trees so that no one could grow any more Snausages. Lexi wanted them all for herself and wouldn't share with anyone else.</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>This was terrible, or would have been, that is, except that Freddie was a fox, and foxes are sly and skillful, and Freddie was the best fox in the whole world. He had the fluffiest tail and was Chance's best friend--and obviously had great taste.</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>Chance knew that Lexi had a horrible monster guarding her castle: a dog with three heads! The first head, Glitter, would bark and bark and bark. The second head, Sparkle, had magic powers. And the third head, Bindi, was made of air.</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>When they got to Lexi's castle, Chance told Pickle to go to the drawbridge and say hello. Pickle was a girl, and he would bat his doe eyes and play innocent while Chance and Freddie snuck around to the back door. </p></blockquote><h2 style="text-align: left;">Certified Triple Cute®</h2><p>Chance always accompanied us to garden centers and hardware stores; he loved getting any kind of outing, but it was at Merrifield Garden Center where Chance earned an impressive certification--and I'm not talking about having the best bloomers in town (which he had, for sure).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_NdYUxFfao11cWYziNYkyWkCdG0sCb6fkKTouQGBLa-nSZ-wYfD7A4hHEHVDTAajtWcJ23DUABFI0f44iWRoDtrys4U110-dFnoJV4nQ83tyo4KAyVOpd1uy4J5LuVItSdUN4xKtzXbsYoxXXTSw4DJXa9KCmW0G72DME9mrdAc2vDmkljY-g1Nx/s3868/_MG_8515.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3868" data-original-width="2579" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_NdYUxFfao11cWYziNYkyWkCdG0sCb6fkKTouQGBLa-nSZ-wYfD7A4hHEHVDTAajtWcJ23DUABFI0f44iWRoDtrys4U110-dFnoJV4nQ83tyo4KAyVOpd1uy4J5LuVItSdUN4xKtzXbsYoxXXTSw4DJXa9KCmW0G72DME9mrdAc2vDmkljY-g1Nx/w426-h640/_MG_8515.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance shows off his bloomers--indeed, the best in town</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">At the time, Merrifield had an elderly greeter, Mr. Lee, whose job responsibilities apparently largely consisted of stopping to talk to children and admiring the many dogs who'd come to browse the gardens with their owners. When he first met Chance, he made a show of looking him over, and then said: "You know, I wouldn't say he's cute."</p><p style="text-align: left;">In the awkward, pregnant pause that followed, we figured that perhaps some people aren't fans of small fluffy dogs, and that some of the same people might not have the best social filters, particularly as they grew older.</p><p style="text-align: left;">But then, Mr. Lee exclaimed in a raspy voice, "No, I'd say he's TRIPLE CUTE!"</p><p style="text-align: left;">And from then onwards, Chance bore the certification proudly.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Chance's Many Friends: "Those Beasts," "The Gurls," & More</h2><p style="text-align: left;">Our Papillons brought us together with many friends through the years, and Chance loved several of our friends' dogs, too. It's amazing the number of friends which he made and which he helped us make, too!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08UPW8xhwAxLyEqsUyPrEg5_AQ1aacpM8ADJQoHRv7JTbypsbiHbs2aSnSRLqQOZu7_cWyQcQWn5YFQl3-hAigmRsjw9YV96yHMZIZyOtYoXlg_aiRME1QzOapZU2hxItaeUorkbMhiLMwCDZ8klIb0JFuuEm-N8Td_6-E3jq8DHGh3ak7_1sNnQ7/s4784/_MG_3673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3189" data-original-width="4784" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08UPW8xhwAxLyEqsUyPrEg5_AQ1aacpM8ADJQoHRv7JTbypsbiHbs2aSnSRLqQOZu7_cWyQcQWn5YFQl3-hAigmRsjw9YV96yHMZIZyOtYoXlg_aiRME1QzOapZU2hxItaeUorkbMhiLMwCDZ8klIb0JFuuEm-N8Td_6-E3jq8DHGh3ak7_1sNnQ7/w640-h426/_MG_3673.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a garden ride with a few of his closest friends</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">In particular, Chance was best friends with Lexi (the black & white Papillon on the left side of the wagon above), as they lived up the street from each other for a couple of years, and Lexi is Chance's same age, much as Portia (to the right of Lexi) was Didi's age.</p><p>Our friend Gloria has had Papillons nearly as long as we have. Chance referred to Gloria's Papillons (Portia, Lexi, Bindi, Sparkle, and Glitter) as "Those Beasts," which is a homage to a <i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens</i> line ("Those beasts; they're here!"). Lexi alternately was Chance's girlfriend, his bestie, and his nemesis: Chance knew that Lexi had witch powers of her own and suspected her of plotting to take his Snausage cache. Indeed, of the stories Chance told, Lexi and the other "gurls" often had prominent roles as the antagonists, much as Pickle would be his foil and Freddie his wingman.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96A4_V1wb6tXXmVW0Vf00AwVcKpfQ2O9WDXsyAae6CizDcD8MRe0-a9_kvmaydGgc6ZpccaWKdd8N-yRswzgkNXsRZbW3kIy8jAkYE_k4x9blttnyQC46MBtM1RvEcxNn2qMcNKGSAQ-ATb3zM7feP8aikzBA2EWA3EqV46yZIu182syKpWRWXX1Q/s4696/_MG_5183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3131" data-original-width="4696" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96A4_V1wb6tXXmVW0Vf00AwVcKpfQ2O9WDXsyAae6CizDcD8MRe0-a9_kvmaydGgc6ZpccaWKdd8N-yRswzgkNXsRZbW3kIy8jAkYE_k4x9blttnyQC46MBtM1RvEcxNn2qMcNKGSAQ-ATb3zM7feP8aikzBA2EWA3EqV46yZIu182syKpWRWXX1Q/w400-h266/_MG_5183.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lexi (on the left) with Bindi the Jungle Girl, celebrating the mutual July birthdays which Lexi and Chance shared</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">Chance was also best friends with Collette (on the far left in the wagon photo; she passed suddenly of a heart ailment, sadly) and Kirby (between Chance and Portia in the wagon photo, named for Chance's ancestor the Westminster champion).</p><p style="text-align: left;">Chance loved having the other Papillon over to visit, but he sometimes got tired pretty quickly, demanding of us, "Mr. Daddy, when are they going home?" particularly after a few nights of keeping the others over. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialf_wBuvfRG9onHeFsQznEDDdA7OSzgT0Istb0ADxlqROcyI7sjMDttv49TellqBqV4vkyU8mpdacvLPCdZCMvEOzfSM32ATMkZIPUEAdmg_dtK1ZaVviZYjuUzlWB7b7bJb2mopiw38FcqAHfUt9i2OE-iBU8Vga0D8T8Xs1nf7UW6Ug7KFI3123/s5184/_MG_5299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialf_wBuvfRG9onHeFsQznEDDdA7OSzgT0Istb0ADxlqROcyI7sjMDttv49TellqBqV4vkyU8mpdacvLPCdZCMvEOzfSM32ATMkZIPUEAdmg_dtK1ZaVviZYjuUzlWB7b7bJb2mopiw38FcqAHfUt9i2OE-iBU8Vga0D8T8Xs1nf7UW6Ug7KFI3123/w640-h426/_MG_5299.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Listen up, Pickle: I need a wingman, but I'm not sure if you're up for the job."</td></tr></tbody></table><h2 style="text-align: left;">Chance the Witch</h2><p>At some point, we realized that Chance was a witch. He could use his "witch powers," often via wrinkling his nose and twitching his whiskers, to cause treats and food to fall from heaven.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfS2AVZZeOwsQauEQqJsYPR5-gfrGwOKAcwBHKu-XOw9YA8VJXUpkLkOQ-TTtLXHLB0zCS_e0lHsEhmhPzhre419mMmy3jQO53pEegYPvQYcoh1z8u64P_PrWKgDB65HIT-RbVpb1jjoXaisnKcOIsUd0rHI4IQtj2e9xBe7XbW6ykMrGj201atbj3/s3640/_MG_3936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Pink birthday cake for Chance!" border="0" data-original-height="3640" data-original-width="2427" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfS2AVZZeOwsQauEQqJsYPR5-gfrGwOKAcwBHKu-XOw9YA8VJXUpkLkOQ-TTtLXHLB0zCS_e0lHsEhmhPzhre419mMmy3jQO53pEegYPvQYcoh1z8u64P_PrWKgDB65HIT-RbVpb1jjoXaisnKcOIsUd0rHI4IQtj2e9xBe7XbW6ykMrGj201atbj3/w266-h400/_MG_3936.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Watch me wiggle my nose, and see that pink cake leap INTO MY BELLY!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">Chance was very selective with membership in his coven, which put him at odds with the desire for a protégé who he could train in the darker ways of the Force.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4oXgfYQippGpwENYw5qZx2suSdjG2V7HmwLpjBgtwQsWr3PyCxm-SX4TgOp3OoNPTDZtjtsMbIN_SFVLoPD4NjldGAr24XlwxyF5G09aeM4PLHrUodR38w1qhnp_9E3c40Yu9dGyv8auL1IhjgXV_Q_B3wO307iPiGFZy6mOX9qvSCJlkyj24WeX/s2810/20190915_192408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2810" data-original-width="2159" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4oXgfYQippGpwENYw5qZx2suSdjG2V7HmwLpjBgtwQsWr3PyCxm-SX4TgOp3OoNPTDZtjtsMbIN_SFVLoPD4NjldGAr24XlwxyF5G09aeM4PLHrUodR38w1qhnp_9E3c40Yu9dGyv8auL1IhjgXV_Q_B3wO307iPiGFZy6mOX9qvSCJlkyj24WeX/w308-h400/20190915_192408.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marie surpassed Chance in witchcraft</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">Although Chance took Marie on as an apprentice witch, she soon surpassed him, calling to mind the line from <i>Star Wars: A New Hope</i> between Vader and Obi-wan: "When last we met, I was but the apprentice. Now I am the master."</p><h2>Chance's Friend Freddie</h2><p>I don't remember where Chance's idolization of foxes came from, but he soon referred to all foxes as "Freddie" and spoke of their wit, and of course, their "glorious tails." Chance called our neighborhood fox (Freddie, of course) his "BFF" and made up all kinds of stories that involved the two of them plotting to corner the world's supply of Snausages or to thwart the plans of "those beasts," or Chance's other BFF/long-time nemesis Lexi and her pack of sisters.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGVnIui8rbspufY2kAMdiTOPr5IY7EK5CObnZaFfO1zEOCJywQzTXEQOPIBuVV81UlRugiAnRE3BNUaimmD01YlV3ma14YRXsawedgB7j22caTNxTHMTH8iR-YdDdxcBK21mNVthqJxmTDeqGekVj75vL5ePDoKf7XtGqJ0RlCwDbE4OfW9ytjoZT/s4471/_04A8496-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2981" data-original-width="4471" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGVnIui8rbspufY2kAMdiTOPr5IY7EK5CObnZaFfO1zEOCJywQzTXEQOPIBuVV81UlRugiAnRE3BNUaimmD01YlV3ma14YRXsawedgB7j22caTNxTHMTH8iR-YdDdxcBK21mNVthqJxmTDeqGekVj75vL5ePDoKf7XtGqJ0RlCwDbE4OfW9ytjoZT/w400-h266/_04A8496-Edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freddie came looking for Chance--BFFs forever</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Chance idolized Freddie and saw himself as a kindred spirit to all foxes. His ears, his fluffy tail, and his sly and clever mischievous streak were all fox traits. We decorated Chance's crates with fox photos clipped from wildlife magazines and trinkets we'd collected over the years, including a beer can from Burial with a fox and a big red heart on the label.</p><div style="text-align: left;">Chance and Freddie (or any of the Freddies who visited our street) never met face-to-face, although dogs and foxes can indeed be friends. I think had the neighborhood Freddies been a bit more tame, and Chance the right age, they might indeed have played and chased each other around. Chance certainly got excited any time Freddie showed up in the yard.</div><p></p><div><h2>Pink Is Punk and the Queen Cowboy</h2><p>Chance loved the color pink, whether it was the leather dog bed I brought him back <i>from Italy</i> or the rhinestone-studded pink "Queen Cowboy" hat he wore for a "Howl-o-ween" event. Over the years, we bought him pink dog beds, pink quilts, and even a pink tutu.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuFQmClA74eqvZp3DHAv-9DPa3fwU_a-ZHezjNEJT3pYUZZTw5hE_1-RM7SiQ8CVfH2syBHwTUyqriAhJJswhO0kCkKj9rQidRimceZpGwJJt2ALSdxGZ7ZRnu57iR06JrK93iTnyAj19dMzRz4lKSeV5gRBe-eETmZalqytgmc9GoCYueOj8k4ZcT/s3343/IMG_8815.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2229" data-original-width="3343" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuFQmClA74eqvZp3DHAv-9DPa3fwU_a-ZHezjNEJT3pYUZZTw5hE_1-RM7SiQ8CVfH2syBHwTUyqriAhJJswhO0kCkKj9rQidRimceZpGwJJt2ALSdxGZ7ZRnu57iR06JrK93iTnyAj19dMzRz4lKSeV5gRBe-eETmZalqytgmc9GoCYueOj8k4ZcT/w640-h426/IMG_8815.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance in his designer pink Italian leather dog bed</td></tr></tbody></table><p>He had a boy crush (totally platonic) on our Dachshund Geronimo, who he only knew for about a year and a half before Geronimo passed away. In an amazing coincidence, our youngest, Marie, shares Geronimo's birthday, and Chance and Geronimo both passed on the same day, June 10. Even more interestingly, Chance shared <i>his</i> birthday with Geronimo's parents, Agi and Ziggy.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubZBHJg-h_LTITrjHEFuByejuBNIUE_CVBlVetVhdwLkC6Dzx6bYVJSc8GG1BaqPlBQl1Tlhlgr6cpQmnhgeY12NCN1FoP0VRmdD5fXYLMgguOCRJzo57Uz1hF2bkTDiMA_l3iXS15IUVF5RYTwYQpsjcOzXL6x8CkWqYhJm8Zr5drFacNaIpTRlW/s2122/IMG_7888.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1415" data-original-width="2122" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubZBHJg-h_LTITrjHEFuByejuBNIUE_CVBlVetVhdwLkC6Dzx6bYVJSc8GG1BaqPlBQl1Tlhlgr6cpQmnhgeY12NCN1FoP0VRmdD5fXYLMgguOCRJzo57Uz1hF2bkTDiMA_l3iXS15IUVF5RYTwYQpsjcOzXL6x8CkWqYhJm8Zr5drFacNaIpTRlW/w400-h266/IMG_7888.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance and his totally hetero lifemate, Geronimo</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Chance once dressed as a French maid for a local pet store's "how-to" video on dog costumes (pre-YouTube, or I'd share it here as part of his long-sought stardom). The costume had been intended for Didi, but we subjected Chance to it as a joke.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWwtdcAbGB5iGKH1Ad22HaK1UcJhOESnLg8PW1iz3vX5uIGYL3X9JRLJdI9oe5L10MYGtH_IWjYvHXiwLKW9qxklsceaoQzx1CAbLQDySXGOVl8Cpv1hSs1A6Aovoib2cH1MBulWBfs3gp-iBYM-wN6mRZ3Od5bRvMjZrjMzmxTQvIerGS_-cfiOtN/s2090/IMG_9993-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2090" data-original-width="1393" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWwtdcAbGB5iGKH1Ad22HaK1UcJhOESnLg8PW1iz3vX5uIGYL3X9JRLJdI9oe5L10MYGtH_IWjYvHXiwLKW9qxklsceaoQzx1CAbLQDySXGOVl8Cpv1hSs1A6Aovoib2cH1MBulWBfs3gp-iBYM-wN6mRZ3Od5bRvMjZrjMzmxTQvIerGS_-cfiOtN/w266-h400/IMG_9993-Edit.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chançois uses his fluffy tail as a feather duster?</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">His love of pink, of tutus, and his boy crush on Geromino led on more than one of our friends to speculate on his sexuality. Certainly Chance himself frequently bemoaned his neutering and the fact that his mommy and his veterinarian joked that what was removed was smaller than the gulab jamun (Indian sweet balls) they had at lunch after his surgery.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MpNNO2_YfmqjJY3UkmoNaibRp5aqJzIvY-Ozo9VBTr8nVRAI2xTHvc9yCgu75hNx18jhOH8N5SngkZ-9qO6MSIwbQHUv9tu26gQLtiatxCAM4Uz8nXgQGL7YTNxGM-nMtHHNCqlyMiQSYsudPnCyD3hTI4mykOQ8PMmGORzbygwNjfnjbopj3wrU/s5988/_K2A2664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance in a pink chair" border="0" data-original-height="3992" data-original-width="5988" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MpNNO2_YfmqjJY3UkmoNaibRp5aqJzIvY-Ozo9VBTr8nVRAI2xTHvc9yCgu75hNx18jhOH8N5SngkZ-9qO6MSIwbQHUv9tu26gQLtiatxCAM4Uz8nXgQGL7YTNxGM-nMtHHNCqlyMiQSYsudPnCyD3hTI4mykOQ8PMmGORzbygwNjfnjbopj3wrU/w400-h266/_K2A2664.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance with one of his many pink birthday presents: A dog chair</td></tr></tbody></table><h2 style="text-align: left;">Chance the Snausage Aficionado </h2><p>The single most important thing in Chance's life--or at least, in his own mind--was Snausages. Mind you, we typically gave him far healthier and more natural treats, but it grew to be a running joke that he wanted Snausages. In fact, that's what gave him his original voice, plaintively saying to Beth, "Mommy, I waaaaant Snausages." Over time, that request became a demand, and frequently, he'd complain about the lack of respect he received and would threaten to report us to the ASPCA for "depriving" him of Snausages or for "giving them away to underserving doggies." Chance considered Snausages the greatest food in the world and spun grand tales about how they grew on trees, or how he'd one day buy a Snausage factory.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm7kpwFWHi-xOd_EZJh-lYoVmtLtIb8xC4haf4EeuMzUqEc8XlTO6VSpgfcBt7xqCCTf6B06sQUTjlrOOoQgU2_aKko5bB6QUl0W1Btxj5dwMB4rbZ0ojxnx_9Sqy_TQKt0cL2IBplRGwUWnNBL503yzCpB3mHLOzhSgsH_gtbCyssr3Do3bjchSC/s6663/_K2A5248.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4442" data-original-width="6663" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm7kpwFWHi-xOd_EZJh-lYoVmtLtIb8xC4haf4EeuMzUqEc8XlTO6VSpgfcBt7xqCCTf6B06sQUTjlrOOoQgU2_aKko5bB6QUl0W1Btxj5dwMB4rbZ0ojxnx_9Sqy_TQKt0cL2IBplRGwUWnNBL503yzCpB3mHLOzhSgsH_gtbCyssr3Do3bjchSC/w584-h382/_K2A5248.jpg" width="584" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance celebrating his 15th birthday with Snausages roasted over a campfire</td></tr></tbody></table><p>When we first adopted Marie--who went on to become Chance's "protégé" and coven member, Chance asked Snausages' official Facebook account for advice: he was worried that it might mean sharing some of his Snausages with the new arrival. Snausages' social media geniuses replied that indeed, sharing was a challenge with new arrivals, and that a little jealousy over treats was natural (I wish I had the post handy; they nailed the response, and we laughed for weeks).</p><h2>Chance the Original Rapper</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Beth's parrot Sam takes baths in her water bowl, and Beth sings "Splish Splash" to her whenever that happens. One day, Chance started singing along.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="348" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/L2VpbLBqW40" width="481" youtube-src-id="L2VpbLBqW40"></iframe></div><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">We're not quite sure if he thought he was howling, but eventually, we only had to say, "Chance, splish splash!" to trigger his singing.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">We made use of Chance's singing to film several YouTube videos which I then narrated in Chance's voice, including his career as a political activist, which we talk about below. We'd always intended to add a sarcastic, goofy podcast to his repertoire, but time caught up to us, sadly.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">When we left the house, we always put music on for the dogs--we frequently would ask Alexa to "play chill electronic music," which is <i>usually</i> some down-tempo ambient sound. But on occasion, we'd get a rotation of house music going, and Chance claimed he hosted raves while we were out.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance called himself "Chance the Rapper" way back in 2010, after watching a <i>Flight of the Conchords</i> episode where Brett and Jemaine sang about "tears of a rapper." He was also a master bluesman, and he regaled us with tales of "the don't got no Snausages blues" among other many other sad songs about the perceived injustices of his harsh life in the lap of a pink Italian leather dog bed and gourmet dog food. In many ways, Chance was <i>our</i> musical outlet, though I hope our songs have been a bit more in-tune and less eccentric than those of the terrier owners in <i>Best in Show</i>.</p></h2><h2>The Boys Club</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance constantly came up with new groups of which he could be the president, including the Secret Society of the Apricot Heads, his coven, the Tongue Danglers Club, and his most enduring, the "Boy's Club."</p></h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTWfMJuiVV4ZZ4Szdnav9ObqDHQEwK80g_I370wiVdyrhVQW-f1UPMEfdDekDopcVCEizxjsE4wFekcgPjdnzr1bCe5K9oGiWWm6LMJ8_MObaISnGXax-Hvs9yVqMzVOOBOf8IJCwTG9d_qgGDWM6fV0lGMf24-9tDjGDV8vxVUx7RjqOazeVl7e8/s1150/55053_129471367109654_571601_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="850" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTWfMJuiVV4ZZ4Szdnav9ObqDHQEwK80g_I370wiVdyrhVQW-f1UPMEfdDekDopcVCEizxjsE4wFekcgPjdnzr1bCe5K9oGiWWm6LMJ8_MObaISnGXax-Hvs9yVqMzVOOBOf8IJCwTG9d_qgGDWM6fV0lGMf24-9tDjGDV8vxVUx7RjqOazeVl7e8/w474-h640/55053_129471367109654_571601_o.jpg" width="474" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance's "minutes" from the Boy's Club meeting in November of 2010--I was out of town, either on the west coast or possibly halfway around the globe in Thailand and thus marked "absent."</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Chance rarely offered to expand membership in the Boys Club; he deigned to allow our cat Neptune entry so as not to be outnumbered by the girls, but he often claimed to have revoked Pickle's membership since Pickle was "a girl." (He's not, for the record.) Kylo was on probationary status when Chance passed; the two were buddies, but Kylo also got way too rough with Chance at times.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_7rd0L6DNViqjfb9W3WSRYvQn0z-YRlNE8MBC-GoIcHkEbg8cO4FE2iVFfCD9OV8iEnUX9nWzKa-ixrK59u69aCaGGQ2ivCIiAv3VjPJB3c3pNrsjqrY9yANgNpHEfCpR4eVj7lvXQ4OEH_vD5HRNjGgKkNY5UOJ68Sde-s7bGiqsjetruw6CTI8/s4643/_MG_3550.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3095" data-original-width="4643" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_7rd0L6DNViqjfb9W3WSRYvQn0z-YRlNE8MBC-GoIcHkEbg8cO4FE2iVFfCD9OV8iEnUX9nWzKa-ixrK59u69aCaGGQ2ivCIiAv3VjPJB3c3pNrsjqrY9yANgNpHEfCpR4eVj7lvXQ4OEH_vD5HRNjGgKkNY5UOJ68Sde-s7bGiqsjetruw6CTI8/w400-h266/_MG_3550.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance showing off his National Dog Day whisky stash, all of them either fox-related (in honor of his BFF Freddie) or named after him (remember, his AKC name is "Maker's Mark")</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The Boys Club celebrated everything Chance considered "manly," from whisky to home improvement to the outdoors, and, of course, action films.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVderBt3tNDHuX-YBhy7j9i558w1u9yuhQ4DhmIRMdzIkG8YsfeAPeGlWJfmpJEMvt_lVjQtG2l2ycY4OOFO5FT8ZBH52kH8BeGyyFvnVFEHimrsGE1HNNsyauFUBArz-aJrceWygzrAEt1u3BHYy1VaMYHpxEhtb91CVX1BtS4GMb7NDJCDLulUKn/s4327/_MG_9299.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2885" data-original-width="4327" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVderBt3tNDHuX-YBhy7j9i558w1u9yuhQ4DhmIRMdzIkG8YsfeAPeGlWJfmpJEMvt_lVjQtG2l2ycY4OOFO5FT8ZBH52kH8BeGyyFvnVFEHimrsGE1HNNsyauFUBArz-aJrceWygzrAEt1u3BHYy1VaMYHpxEhtb91CVX1BtS4GMb7NDJCDLulUKn/w400-h266/_MG_9299.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance loved action movies; the more gratuitous the better!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Early in his life, Chance was a big fan of Stephen Seagal action flicks. On his first night at our home, he watched <i>Under Siege</i>, and for several years after that debated whether or not Stephen Seagal or Chuck Norris or another action film hero would own the crown of "best ever." Chance's breeder's husband Warren used to watch action flicks with him as a puppy, so he came by his interest honestly.</p><p>Once "Mr. Seagal" got cozy with Vladimir Putin, though, that was it: Chance ditched him (though he kept a soft spot for <i>Under Siege</i> regardless). </p><h2>Mr. Dixon's Biggest Fan</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">We watch a lot of horror, and for many years, a Sunday evening tradition for us was to sit and watch <i>The Walking Dead</i>, along with some takeout sushi. Chance idolized the character of Daryl Dixon, and even though Chance hated motorcycles--he'd bark at them anytime he heard them from the car--he loved to fantasize about taking a ride with "Mr. Dixon."</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWI5ZiOKB809EHlWmJhkLwQegWJ-HZ2euJiIbqjWxjCKo_uqB90HNhxxbvdt-yRlnuYHVnbai5CnAbJrc-0XaueU7OcGysI8CGBn1ermC-S_otgFLm0Yxfb8A5RJAG33vbvwzQcRr2QobleDoYajs-g2-WCkoNQf2AGYWGoqKEj6aLw-5D2lzWjmO7/s3971/_MG_7601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3971" data-original-width="2647" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWI5ZiOKB809EHlWmJhkLwQegWJ-HZ2euJiIbqjWxjCKo_uqB90HNhxxbvdt-yRlnuYHVnbai5CnAbJrc-0XaueU7OcGysI8CGBn1ermC-S_otgFLm0Yxfb8A5RJAG33vbvwzQcRr2QobleDoYajs-g2-WCkoNQf2AGYWGoqKEj6aLw-5D2lzWjmO7/w266-h400/_MG_7601.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I (heart) Daryl Dixon!!!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">One season, <i>Talking Dead</i>, the discussion program that came on immediately after the week's episode of <i>The Walking Dead</i>, offered up a contest to viewers: Send in a video question, and they'd broadcast and invite onto the air the ones they liked the best from their biggest fans.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">We of course had all the Pupsters dress up with bibs calling out their favorite characters. Didi wore a dreadlock wig with her bib stating, "Michonne Rocks!" Pickle wore a cowboy hat (which looked a good bit like Rick Grimes' Georgia police cap) and a bib labeled, "I (heart) Coral!" in a play on the meme of how Rick's British actor tried to say "Carl" with a southern accent. Marie, of course, went as "Carol's Sous Chef," a reference to bad-ass Carol and the cookies she baked before threatening a kid not to make a sound or she'd feed him to zombies.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance, well, of <i>course</i> he was "Mr. Dixon's #1 fan."</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance didn't win an appearance on the program, but someone else's dog did! Clarence the One-Eyed Poodle wore an eyepatch and went as "the Guv'nur" and got <i>his </i>question on the air--something that infuriated Chance. He already didn't think much of poodles, but having one upstage him in his moment of glory was almost more than he could take. He muttered for days, "Fuck the poodle!" and wished he'd thought to add an eyepatch or pose atop motorcycle handlebars to enhance his own bid.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">But he didn't hold it against Mr. Dixon; Chance continued to idolize the star as well as the actor, Norman Reedus, and even featured him in a couple of his political ad videos. </p></h2><h2>Fairydust, Sunbeams, and Tutus</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">I don't recall exactly where Chance developed his love for fairies. Perhaps it came from his attraction to all thinks pink, or maybe it was a result of our many trips to Merrifield Garden Center, which often included a stop to peruse the fairy garden items.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9QkYPl3hJDxpKYg6Uzgbaqqc0RCIyoRbPmN0PJ5OU0IJxpjk4iWzXfRYemcLmY18PlMPtzhqCjaNv_pZcDN7RbSxtLFOZAYFnP5O3OERqLiQXqndYXFMSAEL44aG4KDYkV1TvHFrzPaqpRmCBJf9y_ULMjWK9Y9W9ifTSBW6KGrGvuU0gqdzVzHm/s4934/_MG_4824.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance and his mommy with a fairy tea party in the garden" border="0" data-original-height="3289" data-original-width="4934" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9QkYPl3hJDxpKYg6Uzgbaqqc0RCIyoRbPmN0PJ5OU0IJxpjk4iWzXfRYemcLmY18PlMPtzhqCjaNv_pZcDN7RbSxtLFOZAYFnP5O3OERqLiQXqndYXFMSAEL44aG4KDYkV1TvHFrzPaqpRmCBJf9y_ULMjWK9Y9W9ifTSBW6KGrGvuU0gqdzVzHm/w640-h426/_MG_4824.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfect day for a fairy tea party!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">It might seem strange to put a tutu on your dog. It's also strange to talk for your dog and develop and entire fantasy life for him, I suppose.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gfE29ITaAsol3-iL58xXd6INoMAuxZR-SeBwC9Scm1bqdXoVcQnaarciQtkLUdoV_DzAGmYSEY1gihN4GWPqvtvR3zLMoVC0VWxKrfCutUT5JWQVWzG0f9J2d7YEKWtQjoncB_thCOJkeMXWuTyix_pu7nTjiHdFMuXnk4kpRAr6H1nbjtSsRHpg/s4458/_MG_8630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance shopping for plants at Merrifield" border="0" data-original-height="4458" data-original-width="2972" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gfE29ITaAsol3-iL58xXd6INoMAuxZR-SeBwC9Scm1bqdXoVcQnaarciQtkLUdoV_DzAGmYSEY1gihN4GWPqvtvR3zLMoVC0VWxKrfCutUT5JWQVWzG0f9J2d7YEKWtQjoncB_thCOJkeMXWuTyix_pu7nTjiHdFMuXnk4kpRAr6H1nbjtSsRHpg/w426-h640/_MG_8630.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance loved trips to the garden center, because of course many people would stop to admire him.</td></tr></tbody></table></h2><h2>The Many Nicknames of Chance</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance's official AKC name was "Le Bijou Maker's Mark," with the call name of "Chance." But he didn't stop at the two names held by a typical purebred dog; no, had Chance a Snausage for every nickname he accumulated over the years, he'd have been rather more plump for sure.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH92T4HL655rHLXpxy4-EhOaFPxQME-QeLHoYYRjCKCGXynnQXbon5yHtdjX5HnaHCCp8fFd_BgqaYACTCjV-EEuPkxoL6mXRT2nWmP3V8HACmOCbmwhdmQ2B8WQdtNuRoTVCHv_6AYtSqNh6ZDt5al_ILHq7MN8E3wQZGmwnZC3qq7cW78zdChtwN/s2799/_MG_6272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1866" data-original-width="2799" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH92T4HL655rHLXpxy4-EhOaFPxQME-QeLHoYYRjCKCGXynnQXbon5yHtdjX5HnaHCCp8fFd_BgqaYACTCjV-EEuPkxoL6mXRT2nWmP3V8HACmOCbmwhdmQ2B8WQdtNuRoTVCHv_6AYtSqNh6ZDt5al_ILHq7MN8E3wQZGmwnZC3qq7cW78zdChtwN/w400-h266/_MG_6272.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"CLAIMED! What do you mean these will go right to my butt? <br />They'll come OUT of my butt after they go into my belly!"</td></tr></tbody></table><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chançois, reflecting the French heritage of Papillon</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Poop, because he once pooped in the bed (while we were in it), and on another occasion pooped in a chair before I sat in it</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Poopsiekins (see above)</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Chance T. Pants and </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">Chancellor</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> T. Pantsellor</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Señor Pantalones, essentially the same as the above but in Spanish</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pumpkin Fluffer Wiggle Bottom, his Hobbit name</span></span></li></ul><div><span style="font-size: small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3gJMJCVoFttwJL4pn7wAtrf_K3I7XcWFnQzQF8jDza_dClerhuaSxeb_wETBbDCMDo3zMuAhhIIAe4h3fACaHsKrGvPILsIwUhZYAxjBJjBKSXyoEgX5ouYyflVCEo2dYUPUH9CMkdoCMwzxw1ambHOKauHmi-4o2vTh17xQxn7JWZw_UdJI-2_-/s1308/_K2A2513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="1308" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3gJMJCVoFttwJL4pn7wAtrf_K3I7XcWFnQzQF8jDza_dClerhuaSxeb_wETBbDCMDo3zMuAhhIIAe4h3fACaHsKrGvPILsIwUhZYAxjBJjBKSXyoEgX5ouYyflVCEo2dYUPUH9CMkdoCMwzxw1ambHOKauHmi-4o2vTh17xQxn7JWZw_UdJI-2_-/w400-h266/_K2A2513.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahoy, Cap'n Biscuit of the <i>S.S. Papillon</i></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cap'n Biscuit, because he captained the <i>S.S. Papillon </i>and fancied himself a sailor who always wanted a biscuit. I'm not sure hardtack would have agreed with his lack of teeth, though...</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chance the Original Rapper, because he rapped several years before his more famous namesake</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Little Chance</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mommy's Little Sunny Bunny</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chancie (his nickname from his Auntie G)</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Plump, for the time he'd put on some extra pounds that weren't just fluff</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mr. Nibbles, for those weird occasions where he'd try to groom the polka dots off of our sheets or flea-nip his stuffed animals</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cheesy Poof</span></span></li><li><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nugget (as in "nugget of poop")</span></span></li></ul></h2><h2>Chance and a Thousand Forts</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">In some ways, Chance was more like a cat than a dog. One of those was his love of "forts."</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Over the years, he had many--including some I brought back from southeast Asia, like his cobra hut and a bee hive that went with the Halloween parade-winning bumblebee costume that Beth crocheted for him--but by far and above, his favorite was his hat. Our friend Gloria gave it to us as a present for the cats, but Chance "claimed" it immediately.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80DbIc6gip8Ly4wcu2uibs29_LjgXhYyZvcGvOzMgXw5RWTjcaTN3gIpM2l3v4vZHswZxiVk_I1z41FQg9B4Om5ea_SEOuzMucrCZprlSQ7oRarHTre6y7VTyIRTQLm-KYN-bdDGKW3RI9rbUY20Wa3Ug7ADcwsoDZPUULcpjfrNcnXP6LRo74HvA/s3940/_MG_3985.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2627" data-original-width="3940" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80DbIc6gip8Ly4wcu2uibs29_LjgXhYyZvcGvOzMgXw5RWTjcaTN3gIpM2l3v4vZHswZxiVk_I1z41FQg9B4Om5ea_SEOuzMucrCZprlSQ7oRarHTre6y7VTyIRTQLm-KYN-bdDGKW3RI9rbUY20Wa3Ug7ADcwsoDZPUULcpjfrNcnXP6LRo74HvA/w640-h426/_MG_3985.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If this hat's a rockin', don't come knockin'</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance turned anything into a fort. "If it fits, I sits," cats say, but for Chance, it was more, "I fits, CLAIMED!"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhappEuge4U4opZJd0hTLzQOF_V4EnW0kFn-IuUOVGTNnxpiqJKfcJBm4QcbAo4PNK0ujtvwtA-BZz_QgDUdb9pg4r2TW_IJQAtImtcOuqYlLOLLuWXjYzkYpoO0C-UW2NcY80zPE7tSd1j6yhGgRqZQLD9UizrDZzc5sr4pbmWY6C81lxNE_DPNTXW/s4512/_MG_6532.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4512" data-original-width="3008" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhappEuge4U4opZJd0hTLzQOF_V4EnW0kFn-IuUOVGTNnxpiqJKfcJBm4QcbAo4PNK0ujtvwtA-BZz_QgDUdb9pg4r2TW_IJQAtImtcOuqYlLOLLuWXjYzkYpoO0C-UW2NcY80zPE7tSd1j6yhGgRqZQLD9UizrDZzc5sr4pbmWY6C81lxNE_DPNTXW/w266-h400/_MG_6532.jpg" width="266" /></a></div></h2><p style="text-align: left;">It didn't have to be a hut, hat, or other more traditional fort, though; Chance made his way into grocery bags, cardboard boxes, the recycle bin, laundry baskets, and even toy crates, where he did his best impersonation of E.T. hiding amongst the stuffed animals.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC3JyQ79YQFB4BTwif_JRyieAuFwkMjJ829z_Lj9NTkq6Y5KrcQs-j6FATIuch6Ke09EKhz7P35QsbI9RI3VAbQio5MHl4XGpy1TPghLTJwH2balyqkfnLrnd0Km9MM3S5gjSiUaqMDWwkQnGwmDQB6JQ0-yjdqOqNCztwvomKI6oS4GzT911phqo/s4685/_MG_4741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Look at that gremlin in the toy basket..." border="0" data-original-height="3123" data-original-width="4685" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC3JyQ79YQFB4BTwif_JRyieAuFwkMjJ829z_Lj9NTkq6Y5KrcQs-j6FATIuch6Ke09EKhz7P35QsbI9RI3VAbQio5MHl4XGpy1TPghLTJwH2balyqkfnLrnd0Km9MM3S5gjSiUaqMDWwkQnGwmDQB6JQ0-yjdqOqNCztwvomKI6oS4GzT911phqo/w400-h266/_MG_4741.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Well, Papillon are toy breeds, Mr. Daddy!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTsGpvnMBM4Ouq7EC52j2R3zTqn6RrIs8ibeC2h50Yc_wsEskDdmIMxVIr-pvGYorA8TXC9Mn6NchP6qEVMennfTGg0wpdV-hB22unoprVYNhx0ezujOOusJxVE3y20DaOMrvXapIalNQkx7dnguMJo2989Vm36968W35EHFfduwD6WZP81mGov-C/s4473/_MG_3379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4473" data-original-width="2982" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTsGpvnMBM4Ouq7EC52j2R3zTqn6RrIs8ibeC2h50Yc_wsEskDdmIMxVIr-pvGYorA8TXC9Mn6NchP6qEVMennfTGg0wpdV-hB22unoprVYNhx0ezujOOusJxVE3y20DaOMrvXapIalNQkx7dnguMJo2989Vm36968W35EHFfduwD6WZP81mGov-C/w266-h400/_MG_3379.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance always demanded presents from Mr. Daddy's travels:<br />First a leather dog bed from Italy, then a cobra hut from Thailand...</td></tr></tbody></table><h2>For Love of a Hobbit Hole</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance took his love of forts into the outdoors, too, and always wanted a "Hobbit hole." Didi would actively "help" garden (typically by leaping into the hole we'd been digging, pawing furiously to expand it, and making a huge mess), but Chance liked to just sit or lie down in the sunshine. The key, of course, being that he would lie down and obviously wasn't interested in working--just in enjoying Nature.</p></h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZtsa-cwcBJzHeebLaGhbA3YDZqLKyN7G9Njr_xkzEhkDasS-yU6_5zFQcJgdmSKnfujz3xtZkoDSvbZ732qQG64geY4iRXnAJXPm9bMmIOhSeOTdEQqpMmRUKJDlJEd8MZQx4bSUt9u-v2oaOlAH1eBuNADv-6JrQRbTAw9uw0YBKuWH4gQbEuVi/s3504/_MG_2855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance reflects on nature" border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZtsa-cwcBJzHeebLaGhbA3YDZqLKyN7G9Njr_xkzEhkDasS-yU6_5zFQcJgdmSKnfujz3xtZkoDSvbZ732qQG64geY4iRXnAJXPm9bMmIOhSeOTdEQqpMmRUKJDlJEd8MZQx4bSUt9u-v2oaOlAH1eBuNADv-6JrQRbTAw9uw0YBKuWH4gQbEuVi/w640-h426/_MG_2855.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance thinking deep thoughts. Probably about Snausages.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Unlike Didi, who received an Elvish name (Lady Bricostria Ellandel, or the Princess of the Sharp Tooth), Chance got a Hobbit name: Pumpkin Fluffer Wiggle Bottom. And the hair on his toes never fell off, either!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjfQ-Wj0wk-p-7R8txcIeY1d41cwwE0pIez4b308zas4b6ElIkYql-f7mXQR4wNLbIq1edwThmPhIRgkikFDI8PrOMxOjL6ronTc9Byw3eZ3Ndfhgp1t9ESj9DuoCZEh6IfCr5cgu9wd2YD9opWySKACs7bMH2ZpRgmGot5PxacSKFDgxyYfHfZ4J5/s3958/_MG_7035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunshine dust" border="0" data-original-height="2639" data-original-width="3958" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjfQ-Wj0wk-p-7R8txcIeY1d41cwwE0pIez4b308zas4b6ElIkYql-f7mXQR4wNLbIq1edwThmPhIRgkikFDI8PrOMxOjL6ronTc9Byw3eZ3Ndfhgp1t9ESj9DuoCZEh6IfCr5cgu9wd2YD9opWySKACs7bMH2ZpRgmGot5PxacSKFDgxyYfHfZ4J5/w400-h266/_MG_7035.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It tastes just like sunshine dust, Mr. Daddy!"</td></tr></tbody></table><h2 style="text-align: left;">Chance the Political Activist</h2><p style="text-align: left;">In his younger days, Chance was something between a libertarian and a crypto-kleptocrat who believed in taking what was "his." He adopted one of his favorite exclamations from <i>The Walking Dead's </i>bands of post-apocalyptic roving bandits: "CLAIMED!" Indeed, Chance began stealing his older half-sister Didi's favorite stuffed squirrel, which he would then stand over and defend, growling at anyone to try to take it, and we often later found the squirrel hidden inside one of his many forts.</p><p style="text-align: left;">But as he matured, Chance became active in broader societal politics, and to that end, he filmed his first political ad in 2012 in favor of the reelection of President Barack Obama. It wasn't a long video, but in his cynical, dry-witted way, he expressed concern that billionaire candidate Mitt Romney didn't understand the problems faced by dogs across the US. No, he didn't mention Romney's incident with his dog Seamus riding atop the family station wagon, but Chance did muse that he worried Romney would outsource dog shelters to China (cough, cough, with a panning shot of a Chinese restaurant).</p><p style="text-align: left;">He had less success in 2016 with his two ads, one promoting Democratic candidate and "nasty gurl" Hillary Clinton with more than a bit of Chance's strong LGBTQ activism on display, the other offering an apocalyptic view of what would come to be under a potential Trump presidency, including a warning of coming war, plague, famine, and zombies. The latter video, asking Americans to "take a dump on Trump" in the fall elections, unfortunately proved prophetic, and he spent the next four years worried about Snausage shortages and racism against Latinos alongside the rising tide of bigotry and white nationalism that seemed to seize the US.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="341" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LgOj_2Uwm74" width="493" youtube-src-id="LgOj_2Uwm74"></iframe></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">Chance followed up in 2020 with his magnum opus ad for Joe Biden (above), and throughout the campaign, he and Marie were regulars on my Zoom calls and training sessions with other volunteers. Later that November, he celebrated alongside his co-star Kylo (introduced as "The Kitten") and his producer, Marie.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpoCdZIZMlRwzfijYn3cDygODaHhI0iOi_cn2c9nhc8unqDV8sevW2JO3IBSEcyVtrNfQfmqFZa7xyBXzlfjkHqZ8vCgPSKd3fHncMZ_7-LeQf3MrkGcTLXyuxxpYvIO9msNxrvyN33FSK89l3hIAGa97ldzWgJBA8Lybi40KPRDHaZaFQoZRRLck/s4360/_K2A4110.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2907" data-original-width="4360" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpoCdZIZMlRwzfijYn3cDygODaHhI0iOi_cn2c9nhc8unqDV8sevW2JO3IBSEcyVtrNfQfmqFZa7xyBXzlfjkHqZ8vCgPSKd3fHncMZ_7-LeQf3MrkGcTLXyuxxpYvIO9msNxrvyN33FSK89l3hIAGa97ldzWgJBA8Lybi40KPRDHaZaFQoZRRLck/w522-h347/_K2A4110.jpg" width="522" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chance, Marie, and Kylo celebrate the 2020 election with John and Beth</td></tr></tbody></table><h2>The Agility Champion (In His Own Mind)</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">We knew that though Chance (like Didi) directly descended from the champion of champions, Loteki Supernatural Being aka Kirby, he was not going to be a show dog. He had a few "faults," including slightly higher hindquarters than his front-end, and a bit of an overbite. But Papillon are absolutely fantastic at agility competition, and we'd actually intended to make him into an agility champion. He signed up for training and did very well--that is, until Didi decided to bark at every other dog in training, and Chance followed her lead.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6_9uB3HkKFtDslNrylvHIfwyU4yNLJhQqpOHFvhEszcUiEdm6iroMDA5LZuF7UYB9hwUoaffNjj4CogJt3BgPFVYpKGmP_k93krlZEhC23TFwBHUo-4DebN7qvXtte9M7_loUGyg_SXJ5GHOOcimpobPrhQmNP-KuF-SbZcOsFknWZQocxrR8uQL/s3034/IMG_6137.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Chance hurtles during an agility practice run" border="0" data-original-height="2023" data-original-width="3034" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6_9uB3HkKFtDslNrylvHIfwyU4yNLJhQqpOHFvhEszcUiEdm6iroMDA5LZuF7UYB9hwUoaffNjj4CogJt3BgPFVYpKGmP_k93krlZEhC23TFwBHUo-4DebN7qvXtte9M7_loUGyg_SXJ5GHOOcimpobPrhQmNP-KuF-SbZcOsFknWZQocxrR8uQL/w400-h266/IMG_6137.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">That didn't stop us from continuing to practice agility on our own with him. Chance loved tunnels, and prior to Marie making her tunnels part of her Asian Festival on Main routine the past few years, he was our champion at running through tunnels.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianIL0ZywCmSwkBPCp8vwMHBImQUzU6NECy1KpkBSyxsTX4XKYclK1XWEiTA4zFMnSs54Y0PC1YQ8jNNBOdKfvBuP7rNl9W2KE9pjjU0nXDRGno32a_cTHAKHk2sZbfEGmhFOViLVpv_9HJq_fAD8sVUGLXQLCU-Bseh2mvfDLuqsq3TlYJ7MVtzAb/s4670/_04A7584.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Chance runs the tunnel" border="0" data-original-height="3113" data-original-width="4670" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianIL0ZywCmSwkBPCp8vwMHBImQUzU6NECy1KpkBSyxsTX4XKYclK1XWEiTA4zFMnSs54Y0PC1YQ8jNNBOdKfvBuP7rNl9W2KE9pjjU0nXDRGno32a_cTHAKHk2sZbfEGmhFOViLVpv_9HJq_fAD8sVUGLXQLCU-Bseh2mvfDLuqsq3TlYJ7MVtzAb/w640-h426/_04A7584.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">And when Chance <i>wanted</i> to move, he could: Look at his bobsled run during one of our blizzards!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQnttRHy281G2afPGIwOQRjm5iS77TieYOchblKCy__kA3gWN49hHZPcpw2X0psFgyU62VrY9R7F0ApAZ3g9SwyvUaGZ_ZObrGz9VLnLY4f0AQG7kO5Uib4mmngYnFGdWdk1jkm9zY2nHg4_AtvpM-uOt7uzcXzrbazP1nz6SCVb6Rn1atH3PLPza/s4585/_04A4494.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3057" data-original-width="4585" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQnttRHy281G2afPGIwOQRjm5iS77TieYOchblKCy__kA3gWN49hHZPcpw2X0psFgyU62VrY9R7F0ApAZ3g9SwyvUaGZ_ZObrGz9VLnLY4f0AQG7kO5Uib4mmngYnFGdWdk1jkm9zY2nHg4_AtvpM-uOt7uzcXzrbazP1nz6SCVb6Rn1atH3PLPza/w640-h426/_04A4494.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You'll never catch me, Pickle!"</td></tr></tbody></table></h2><h2>Mr. Daddy's Helper</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance always wanted to be Mr. Daddy's helper, doing "boy stuff" like carpentry. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTsIcjky1SoAV6BWPqQBpGr_9ogQLErFXY-3svZeYWBGaZJIdGB7Kb4dR7WH3bV4Fn2NcIWOf1Gdz4jNuKbj6As3Fa4J7PMWYle0b6jBxZo7j1gnt9qulDUcCmoqtsilkXWvcpqLcujru1QzhNAneWI2x7kfsQQLG9JgttHf0Rwly60AE1F6f8VPTU/s2631/IMG_2690-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1754" data-original-width="2631" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTsIcjky1SoAV6BWPqQBpGr_9ogQLErFXY-3svZeYWBGaZJIdGB7Kb4dR7WH3bV4Fn2NcIWOf1Gdz4jNuKbj6As3Fa4J7PMWYle0b6jBxZo7j1gnt9qulDUcCmoqtsilkXWvcpqLcujru1QzhNAneWI2x7kfsQQLG9JgttHf0Rwly60AE1F6f8VPTU/w640-h425/IMG_2690-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What, Mr. Daddy, you didn't make this fort for me?"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance was still very young when we moved to Chateau Papillon, and he was part of countless home improvement projects, always ready to "help" out and lend a paw. </p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">When we first bought our home, it was a "short sale" and required a bit of work. Chance would have been fine with the pretty pink princess walls in two of the bedrooms, but we really wanted to do away with carpet as well as giving the walls throughout the home our own touch of paint and color.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">We'd pack up our tools and head over from the apartment we'd temporarily rented, bringing Chance and Didi with us, and during the drive, we'd say, "Chateau Papillon!" over and over. Chance got super-excited, to the point he'd whine and bark and even howl (as far as any Papillon howls). In later years, on any trip in the car, Chance recognized the neighborhood--simply getting on the I-66 offramp for US-50 would have him sit at attention and start whining. And all we had to do was say, a single time then, "Chateau Papillon!" and it would set off a frenzy!</p></h2><h2>Chance's Favorite Quotes</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Over the years, we came to associate Chance with several particular quotes, often lifted either directly or adapted from the movies we watched together. I already mentioned his penchant for the <i>Walking Dead</i> gang's "CLAIMED!" of course, but we had many others he regularly used or had said to him. I also already mentioned the line taken from <i>The Force Awakens</i> when he referred to Lexi and her pack ("Those Beasts!"), but one <i>we</i> took from <i>TFA</i> and which Chance really, really disliked hearing was: "One quarter portion!" when discussing a treat or snack or meal.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjry9soZaF0RSUyPLTUiMCgqSe9xaB9LOU52Pdqhk6uRQjtEeJxg311IUHAThrqdiS-lA2nGFr32gd7lMHt2FNjKr68-hMSz1m5FI8vDqwqTfw3QA7SZNpuWA271WibHbhztCXy8AOMNTq1gWr4ILYcnu89CzEl5qpt1fowVkUtwm19XDXCvTTqNTl/s5184/_MG_2856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Chance shows off his bloomers" border="0" data-original-height="5184" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjry9soZaF0RSUyPLTUiMCgqSe9xaB9LOU52Pdqhk6uRQjtEeJxg311IUHAThrqdiS-lA2nGFr32gd7lMHt2FNjKr68-hMSz1m5FI8vDqwqTfw3QA7SZNpuWA271WibHbhztCXy8AOMNTq1gWr4ILYcnu89CzEl5qpt1fowVkUtwm19XDXCvTTqNTl/w266-h400/_MG_2856.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"My bloomers is superior!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance had a great self-image of his voluminous bloomers, which he wanted everyone to admire (indeed, he'd sometimes shove them right in your face). Hence he adapted the line from <i>Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan</i>, where Khan's flunky tells him, of his intellect, "Yours is superior." Chance never ceased to remind everyone that when it came to bloomers, "Mine are superior!"</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance would often get frustrated with things like being denied Snausages or told he had to have a bath. On those occasions, he'd exclaim, "This is HORSE-double-SHIT!" and hide in his fort.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Chance often opened his videos with, "I'm just a little dog, BUT..." And he loved to say, "I am Chance, and approve this message!"</p></h2><h2>Farewell for Now, Sweet Chance!</h2><h2><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">It's been a tough week and change since we lost Chance, but writing these memories has definitely been cathartic and healing. Chance is living on in our memories, still a part of our lives, and perhaps he's off on a new adventure, defending Snausages from Lexi and Super Ghost while he watches Freddie frolic in the sunshine dust.</p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">So for now, farewell, sweet Chance. The hole you left in our hearts won't ever be filled, but we love you for the time you spent with us and all the memories you created.</p></h2><h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNsPKAGERMPIr4h7J2fr_ay2Zjxc7VW9sgHktcqMFp0FST7A1ptoKiG5HitHpGsS4qi1u3Otfc1o_MUc4VhoUItMUPRuZj2ugBw9P1PQeNB6KnLS6hMbvfFWgtC729oYF7HkXrKxjOpFofdirA5Ux0EyMNU4nYwIPkVzjXfCBBc-8CByIJ8u3QmW7/s3552/_MG_0063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2368" data-original-width="3552" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNsPKAGERMPIr4h7J2fr_ay2Zjxc7VW9sgHktcqMFp0FST7A1ptoKiG5HitHpGsS4qi1u3Otfc1o_MUc4VhoUItMUPRuZj2ugBw9P1PQeNB6KnLS6hMbvfFWgtC729oYF7HkXrKxjOpFofdirA5Ux0EyMNU4nYwIPkVzjXfCBBc-8CByIJ8u3QmW7/w640-h426/_MG_0063.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How much for that doggie in the window?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;"><br /></p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;"><br /></p></h2></div>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-8110982135686878842019-03-15T22:02:00.000-04:002019-03-16T17:53:51.021-04:00A Star Wars Experience: Visiting Skellig Michael, Part 4: Reenacting the Final Scene<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T7F2WKNLYuI/XIwayOCTgoI/AAAAAAAACt8/70YgXa5EmvwkbOUDqEyp4et8WqhLcTFxwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/_04A7248-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1132" data-original-width="1600" height="452" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T7F2WKNLYuI/XIwayOCTgoI/AAAAAAAACt8/70YgXa5EmvwkbOUDqEyp4et8WqhLcTFxwCPcBGAYYCw/s640/_04A7248-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Searching for the last Jedi master atop the island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In previous blog posts on our Star Wars experience visiting the Irish island of Skellig Michael, I covered <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig.html" target="_blank">some of the basics of how to get there and where to stay</a>, <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">what to expect of the crossing to the island (hint: seasickness)</a>, and <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html">what you'll see on the island itself</a> (including how the sites fit together into Rey's hike up to finally locate the missing Luke Skywalker). Now, finally, I'm going to tell you how my wife Beth and I reenacted the final, iconic scene of <i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens </i>on location. Try not to geek out!<br />
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Not only did we make costumes, but I grew in an actual beard for the first time in my life in an attempt to at least look somewhat like Mark Hamill's grizzled Jedi master. Beth wanted me to grow my hair out a bit more, too, but I was aiming for a Jedi, not a Time Lord (I could do a perfect Tom Baker Doctor Who 'fro, naturally, if I wanted). Yes, the beard I've had the past three years was something I grew out <i>just to photograph a Star Wars scene.</i> I am a nerd and freely admit to it.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html" target="_blank">Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights</a></li>
<li>Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens (this post)</li>
</ol>
</div>
<h2>
Reenacting the Final Scene</h2>
When we climbed back down to Christ's Saddle, the vast majority of people were still at the monastic ruins, and a few had already started back down to the boat landing. This gave us the time and space to set up a photo shoot.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IeUG0S0Nr9I/XIxOwdJ76QI/AAAAAAAACvY/7nUTqRjmCFYe0KzUR3LKrVpZy9kePFcMQCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IeUG0S0Nr9I/XIxOwdJ76QI/AAAAAAAACvY/7nUTqRjmCFYe0KzUR3LKrVpZy9kePFcMQCLcBGAs/s640/_MG_9403.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth helps me set up the composition of the shot and practices Rey's plaitive offering of Luke's lost lightsaber</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I said earlier, the angle of the sun in the late morning wasn't conducive to an exact shot-for-shot reproduction; to do so requires shooting the photo toward the southeast, which would have been head-on into the sun at that time of day. You don't get much choice in the timing of your visit to the island unless you have a massive production budget and have worked with the Irish authorities to set up your film, so either an overcast day with white skies or settling for an angled shot is necessary.<br />
<br />
I brought along a lightweight carbon fiber tripod (selfie sticks are for amateurs and poseurs) and a timed shutter release for my camera (I used a <a href="https://amzn.to/2CqAe1X" target="_blank">Canon TC-80N3 timer remote control ($135, Amazon)</a>; how's that for a Star Wars droid name?) so that we could set up, compose the shot, pose, and still give me a good 10-15 seconds to rush back into the shot. We took several pretty good pictures this way; I count seconds down in my head pretty accurately--yeah, I've posed for shots at the edge of a cliff while under the timer often enough to level up that skill a few times. But then another tourist (who was wearing a Vader t-shirt, if I recall correctly) offered to take some of the shots for us, which we gladly took him up on.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'll do a future blog post about constructing the costumes, but Beth and I weren't aiming for direct, detail-for-detail authenticity of the sort needed to join the <a href="https://www.501st.com/">501st Legion</a>, but rather something that simply captured the spirit of the final scene--and something we could change into on an island lacking even an outhouse. In retrospect, we didn't save enough time before the trip to really make awesome costumes (I think we started in mid-August, shortly after I started growing in my beard), but I think the sash Beth wove on her loom, the sleeves she crocheted, and the robe I sewed worked out just fine--to the point people offered to rent them from us! (More on that in a moment.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-baOCQo7S-YU/XIxTgJKoPEI/AAAAAAAACvw/9uhw8C9OUXwYZ_da_OCmLRqt7kDQPXMjgCLcBGAs/s1600/_04A7257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-baOCQo7S-YU/XIxTgJKoPEI/AAAAAAAACvw/9uhw8C9OUXwYZ_da_OCmLRqt7kDQPXMjgCLcBGAs/s400/_04A7257.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We tried a few different angles, but the sun was just too harsh to get quite the same one as in the film</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I wasn't about to hike all the way up the island in a Jedi robe, so I needed something fairly lightweight I could stow in my backpack along with a lightsaber. I've made Jedi costumes before, typically involving broadcloth (it's cheap), heavy sweatsuit fabric (looks great as a robe, albeit weighing 15-plus pounds in that robe and comfortable only in minus-30 degree temperatures), and other unbreathable synthetics; I wanted something new for this trip. Even using a linen I picked up at JoAnn's, that robe still weighs a ton--I can't imagine how hard it is to film entire scenes in costume, wearing layers of heavier cloth under the lights without beads of sweat rolling down one's forehead.<br />
<br />
Speaking of lightsabers, I have a replica of Luke's from <i>Return of the Jedi</i> that I toted along carefully in my carry-on, daring the TSA to try confiscating it; a more accurate pick would be Anakin's lightsaber, which you could <a href="https://amzn.to/2Ci8w7l" target="_blank">modify from this replica ($150, Amazon)</a> by making the blade removable. No, my choice was not film-accurate (as my nephew Ferris pointed out immediately upon seeing the photos), but damn it, I spent $250 many years back and have always thought it looked cooler than Anakin's. Sue me.<br />
<br />
<h2>
An Audience</h2>
By this time, a few stragglers had made their way up onto Christ's Saddle, and a few others grown bored with the ranger's lecture at the monastic ruins had trickled back over the ridge. We found ourselves with something of an audience.<br />
<br />
Several people asked if we were renting out our costumes, and I should have said, "Sure, for a pint back in Portmagee!" I suppose. Instead, we loaned them out, tickled that we were the only visitors to the island that day who thought to bring any and that anyone else even wanted to try them on. We ended up making one couple's day as they said their grandkids would be so proud of them!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HVCoplRqIOo/XIxSZTjuUTI/AAAAAAAACvk/lp2h9VLgDfkKPXSKwXXRNcBN1MNZWarMwCLcBGAs/s1600/_04A7251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HVCoplRqIOo/XIxSZTjuUTI/AAAAAAAACvk/lp2h9VLgDfkKPXSKwXXRNcBN1MNZWarMwCLcBGAs/s400/_04A7251.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Epic Christmas card for the grandkids</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We even received a round of applause as the crowds from the monastic ruins made their way back to Christ's Saddle. Can a Jedi blush?<br />
<br />
<h2>
The Final Result - The Final Scene</h2>
In the end, we chose one of the earlier shots we photographed, using my camera's timer remote. Although I did have to spend some time in Photoshop cleaning up the highlights due to the harsh, near-noon sun, it was still a fantastic image to remind us forever of the time we went to Ireland, visited a piece of the Star Wars universe, and came away with a souvenir from a galaxy far away.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T7F2WKNLYuI/XIwayOCTgoI/AAAAAAAACt8/70YgXa5EmvwkbOUDqEyp4et8WqhLcTFxwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/_04A7248-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1132" data-original-width="1600" height="452" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T7F2WKNLYuI/XIwayOCTgoI/AAAAAAAACt8/70YgXa5EmvwkbOUDqEyp4et8WqhLcTFxwCPcBGAYYCw/s640/_04A7248-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
That's it for our visit to Skellig Michael, the real-life location of the mysterious island of "Ahch-To" and a place that you, too, can visit without having actually to jump to light speed. Both Beth and I plan to return--perhaps after the bustle of current tourist activity centering around the past two films dies down a bit--and hopefully see the puffins nesting and again find ourselves walking in the same footsteps of the greatest myth of our modern times, Star Wars.<br />
<br />
p.s. Skellig Michael is far from the only Star Wars location you can visit in real life. One day soon, you'll surely find us climbing the pyramids of Tikal in Guatemala (also known as the Rebel base on Yavin IV) or descending into a seedy hotel in Tunisia (the Lars farmstead and Luke's childhood home on Tatooine). And Beth and I have already visited Iceland's black sand beach for a glimpse of <i>Rogue One's</i> opening setting.<br />
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With that, may the Force be with you, always.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html" target="_blank">Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights</a></li>
<li>Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens (this post)</li>
</ol>
</div>
John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0Great Skellig, Skellig Rock Great, Ireland51.7706615 -10.54052449999994751.760835500000006 -10.560694499999947 51.7804875 -10.520354499999947tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-10108130979411777562019-03-14T20:09:00.000-04:002019-03-16T17:52:35.740-04:00A Star Wars Experience: Visiting Skellig Michael, Part 3: On the Island and Star Wars Sights<br />
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If you've followed my prior posts on visiting Skellig Michael, you've already done the hard part: <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig.html" target="_blank">You've planned a trip to Ireland and the Kerry coast</a>, have booked your rooms and your boat in the village of Portmagee, and <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">you've managed to keep down your breakfast on the eight mile crossing to Skellig Michael</a>. Congratulations! Now it's time for the real fun as you experience this unique world heritage site. Read on to see the culmination of our trip to Skellig Michael and all the wonderful sites atop the island... and next time, come back to see how Beth and I reenacted the denouement of the film as Jedi master and prospective apprentice.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
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<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael</a></li>
<li>Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights (this post)</li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens</a></li>
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<h2>
From the Landing to the South Stairs</h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boats coming to land at the island, with the Little Skellig in the background</td></tr>
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As I covered in the previous post, the hike starts at the landing, a rocky outcrop on the northeastern end of the island almost directly below the monastic ruins several hundred feet above. The first part of the walk runs southwest along the coast of the island toward the lighthouses and is pretty boring, although honestly, I kept having to settle butterflies in my stomach that weren't entirely lingering queasiness from the choppy boat crossing: We were on THE island!<br />
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At the foot of the south steps, a ranger gives a brief safety lecture and makes sure there's enough space between groups before sending the next one up the 600 stair ascent.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning the ascent</td></tr>
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The stairs go through a series of switchbacks as they climb up the side of the island. Though they are roughly-cut stone and can be slick in the wet conditions prevalent in Ireland, anyone reasonably fit should be able to manage. They're not as scary as some folks portray, either; Beth had no issues at all with the hike, though it could be she was completely focused on the fact that we had just stepped onto a real-life piece of <i>Star Wars</i>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perhaps where Luke stashed his X-wing?</td></tr>
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Glance back briefly at the landing as you hike away from it: My thought is that this could be the location where Luke stashed his X-wing, which Rey sees submerged beneath the water in <i>The Last Jedi</i>. Then again, a lot of the Kerry coast could have stood in for that shot, too.<br />
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Most advice I've read suggest that you not worry too much about sight-seeing or photographs on the hike up, and there's something to that, particularly if the steps are at all wet and slick (focus on your feet!). However, depending on how much time you spend at the monastery and other sites at the top, you may feel a bit rushed coming back down and won't take nearly as long as you should on photos then, either. So my suggestion is to stop if you see something you want a picture of, and obviously stop if you're winded and need a break from the climb. Just do please step to the side as much as possible to let others pass.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tourists far below on the South Stairs</td></tr>
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Depending on the time of year you visit, you may encounter puffins making their nests (May through July, typically). These adorable little birds are the inspiration for the porgs in <i>The Last Jedi</i>, and I can only imagine them getting into the filmmakers' gear throughout the shoot. Chewbacca empathizes! (And if you want to try to reenact his barbecuing of one of the beasts, please don't try it on the island--instead, you can find it on the tourist menu a bit across the Atlantic in Iceland, where I was sorely tempted to see if they taste like chicken.) Unfortunately, we'd planned our trip for the late shoulder season in September, with not a porg, er, puffin in sight.<br />
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One last note on the initial stages of the climb: You may notice a helipad just shy of the South Stairs. The cast & crew used boats to reach the island each day, not helicopter (sorry, not even Mark Hamill rated a chopper). I think this area was used to composite the scene where the Millenium Falcon lands at the end of <i>The Force Awakens</i> and is docked throughout <i>The Last Jedi, </i>but I could be wrong.<br />
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<h2>
The Wailing Woman and Lightsaber Practice</h2>
One of the first seriously-recognizable sights you'll encounter is the Wailing Woman, which is a stone formation poised at the edge of the steep slope. In the distance sits the Little Skellig (ever in view as you ascend the southeastern slope of the island). Assuming you've watched <i>The Last Jedi</i>, you'll remember Rey practicing at lightsaber with this crag of rock as a mock foe... before she extends her swing a bit too far and slices the upper half off, sending it tumbling down onto the caretakers' cart on the path below.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wailing Woman and our young padawan, Beth</td></tr>
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Though I'm speculating, I suspect that that scene as well as all the interactions with the island's caretakers which made the film's final cut are subtle jabs at the Irish authorities, who were justifiably concerned as to the impact a large Hollywood crew filming would have on this world heritage site.<br />
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I also got a bit of a chuckle before <i>The Last Jedi</i> came out, watching all of the analyses of the short footage of Rey practicing with her lightsaber and "a shape, maybe YODA, watching!" Having been to the island, I knew that the "Yoda" shape was simply the top of the Wailing Woman, not a Force-ghost Jedi master watching the last remaining hope for the galaxy.<br />
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Keep climbing; there's much more to see.<br />
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<h2>
Christ's Saddle and Luke Skywalker</h2>
One of only a few semi-level portions of the island sits between its two peaks and is where you will first emerge once you've completed the ascent up the South Stairs. Christ's Saddle appears at the very end of <i>The Force Awakens,</i> but in real life, it's not actually the apex of the island--not even close!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will you find a Jedi master awaiting you atop the island?</td></tr>
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The stairs emerge just beyond the craggy little rock in the photo above. The scenery is immediately recognizable, including the small little stone that some viewers initially speculated was a grave of someone close to Luke (it's just a rock). From here, you can gaze out across the water toward the Little Skellig, and if you're not entirely afraid of heights, you can approach the edge and look down at the climbers below. The Little Skellig, actually, is something which if you pay close attention to <i>The Force Awakens</i> you'll notice has been composited into several shots in duplicate: There simply aren't <i>that </i>many other islands visible in real life, certainly not to the degree seen in the film with the archipelago surrounding Luke's island.<br />
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Most people continue onward to the monastic ruins at this point, which you are free to do... but for us, we stopped here and let the crowds thin out so that we could enjoy the spot where Rey finds Luke at the end of her quest in relative peace. A few others hiked up the opposite slope, but most everyone headed onto the final ascent to the monastery, giving us a good chunk of time to reenact that ultimate scene from the film's end.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down from the hill above the southern end of Christ's Saddle</td></tr>
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If you do walk up the dirt path rising to the south, be aware that when the ground is wet and slick, you should be extra careful (or perhaps not even attempt the walk--honestly, it doesn't give that much better of a view, anyway). One of the rangers did tell us that he'd brought his girlfriend and a pack of beer up to the rocks of the southern peak, but the Irish authorities require advance approval to climb all the way to the hermitage, so don't go beyond where the path ends.<br />
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In the photo above, you can see a fence along the left side of the plateau; when Rey walks up upon Luke Skywalker at the end, she's coming from the fenceline, roughly where the dirt has been trodden down into a path, and Luke was of course standing near the little tombstone-shaped rock which is <i>actually</i> where the South Stairs ascend onto the plateau. It's clear to me that the scene was filmed on a more overcast day than we experienced, and likely in the late afternoon--because when we visited, the sun made a direct reenactment of that scene impossible as the camera would be staring right into the sun behind Luke to the east.<br />
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Before I get much into our reenactment, though, let's follow the others onward to the monastic ruins; to paraphrase Rey, we'll be back.<br />
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<h2>
Ascent to the Ruins</h2>
Fans with a quick eye will recognize this last long staircase ascending from Christ's Saddle, and they'll probably say, "Wait, don't these ascend <i>from</i> the monastery to the peak?" That's the order of the shots in the film, with Rey pausing to consider the ruins briefly before making a final climb to discover Luke Skywalker, but in real life, you'll pass through the grounds of that last scene <i>before </i>reaching the last steep, narrow stairs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proceed, young padawan</td></tr>
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These stairs are much more narrow and steep than those on the slopes of the island's South Stair ascent, and they are partly in shade, partly in the sun, and thus can be a bit slick with moisture and algae clinging to the rocks. Be careful! There's a handrail about 2/3 of the way up the stairs to help, but you're on your own beneath that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down at Christ's Saddle from the top of the stairs</td></tr>
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At the top of the last flight of stairs, a quick glance back down at Christ's Saddle might make you dizzy; at any rate, it's absolutely clear how the film reversed the sequence of the geography, showing Rey emerge after the climb at a point where a fence (barely visible in this shot, along the right edge of the flat part of the land) actually stands.<br />
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Once you climb up and over the ridge from Christ's Saddle, there's a short, mostly level stretch of trail leading northeast toward the northern peak of the island.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A penitent man shall pass... oh, wait, mixed adventure movie metaphors there; sorry!</td></tr>
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There's a dry-stacked stone door along the path; I really had to duck at 6'4" to make it through... though that's been the case in a lot of Ireland; I must not have much leprechaun blood in me, I guess.<br />
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This stretch of path offers some great views of the Little Skellig in the distance as well as the steep slopes of Skellig Michael. One last small set of stairs at the end puts you on the grounds of the sixth century monastery, a place abandoned now for 800 years or more.<br />
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<h2>
The Monastic Ruins</h2>
Almost all of the structures within the ruins are free-stacked stone, including the iconic beehive structures where the monks themselves lived. The ruins of the old church itself are among the only uses of mortar on the island, and ironically, the church is in the worst shape of any of the buildings with only a couple of complete walls still standing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Several of the beehive huts and the ruins of old church</td></tr>
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If you've followed the crowd the whole way so far, I'm sad to say that you will indeed be part of a crowd. Though the Irish authorities limit the number of visitors to no more than 180 per day, the site is itself pretty small, and at least 100 of those people will likely be gathered on the grounds of the monastery at this point in the tour.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The monk's graveyard, and lots and lots of people...</td></tr>
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There is a ranger on hand who will give a brief lecture on the history of the site and who will likely also talk a bit about filming <i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens</i> on the island. Some parts of <i>The Last Jedi </i>also were filmed on site, though if you notice discrepancies in the layout of the beehive cells and the grounds of the Jedi temple, you're not imagining things: For many of the scenes in the latter film, Lucasfilm built a full-scale model monastery a bit further out along the Kerry coast. This made filming much, much easier as it didn't require the logistics of traveling every day by boat to the island, the hike up to the site (and yes, they brought <i>all</i> of their gear up those 600-plus steps), and it also avoided the threat of damaging these historic, unique relics. Remember the caretakers in the film and how upset they were that Rey blasted a hole through one of the beehive cells? Unfortunately, Lucasfilm dismantled the set after filming; I bet the locals would have paid good money to keep it as a tourist attraction!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A row of beehive cells, with Beth in the distance for size perspective</td></tr>
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While I'm sure that lecture was interesting, there were quite simply too many people in the way to get great photos... and we had a scene to reenact! So Beth and I slipped away and walked back down to Christ's Saddle, where I removed my backpack and dug out the simplified costumes we'd made for the trip. (More on that in the next post, I promise!)<br />
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After our photo shoot, we did make a brief visit back to the monastic ruins <i>after </i>the crowds had departed. This makes photos and exploring much easier, but be forewarned that the ranger/guide at the ruins may limit how long you have on site if you do this. He will be heading back down the island and catching a boat back to the mainland just like you, so he's not going to linger for long--and for obvious reasons the ranger is not likely to let you wander totally unsupervised, either. In our case, Beth and I asked if we could make one quick pass through the ruins to see anything we had missed, and he was okay with that. In my haste, though, I missed re-taking the shot of the monk's graveyard with the beehive cells stacked in the background that the crowd had so cluttered-up earlier, and my Photoshop skills at editing out the people have yielded mixed results to date.<br />
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One word of caution and courtesy: the walkway and stairs leading to the monastic ruins are fairly narrow. If you're going to do like we did and invert the order of visiting the locations atop the island, you may want to wait until nearly everyone has gone one way or the other so that you're not swimming upstream.<br />
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<h2>
The Return and Descent</h2>
<div>
Walking back down to the waiting boats is a good time to take it slow and grab any photos you missed on the hike up. The perspective from above will be quite different, and you can let a fair bit of the crowds get well ahead of you to free up space in your pictures. However, do note that at least one of the rangers will be following behind, ensuring everyone makes it down from the top safely.</div>
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw9hCZCROTs/XIw62dDRy3I/AAAAAAAACvA/qdKvbNLZpKkruE7Oq3fgGJBNJZ3B2U1_QCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw9hCZCROTs/XIw62dDRy3I/AAAAAAAACvA/qdKvbNLZpKkruE7Oq3fgGJBNJZ3B2U1_QCLcBGAs/s640/_MG_9585.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember, don't spend the trip at the back of the boat! Your stomach will thank you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Our boat, from <a href="http://www.skelligsrock.com/" target="_blank">Seanie and Mary Murphy's Sea Quest Adventures</a>, took us on a loop around the entirety of Skellig Michael, giving us a chance to see the lighthouses on the southern tip and the steep green slopes and rocky shores of the Atlantic side of the island. After that, we headed over to the Little Skellig to see the large colony of Gannets nesting on its uninhabited cliffs. Approximately 35,000 of the birds make the smaller sibling to Skellig Michael their home. If you manage to only be able to score an "eco tour" or "nature tour" booking, this is pretty much all you get to do: Boat out to and around the two skelligs, with a bit of a narrated tour from your guide.</div>
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YGtsoxZHA-I/XIw8-aTohnI/AAAAAAAACvM/beLnAIcJRwUrz-QdiGZ9Pb81nd9O8hHYACLcBGAs/s1600/_04A7475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YGtsoxZHA-I/XIw8-aTohnI/AAAAAAAACvM/beLnAIcJRwUrz-QdiGZ9Pb81nd9O8hHYACLcBGAs/s400/_04A7475.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gannets nesting on the Little Skellig</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
All said and told, these maneuvers added a solid hour to the return trip to Portmagee, and though interesting in the sights seen, made for a miserable additional bit of seasickness. I made the mistake of going to the back of the boat for a photo opportunity--and meanwhile, lost my place near the front where I could get the wind on my face and avoid the worst of the tossing movement on the day's choppy seas.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I managed not to be sick, but it was quite a bit closer a thing than the outbound!<br />
<br />
Oh, one thing you might notice and wonder about: No, the gnarled old tree where Luke stows the Journals of the Whills / ancient Jedi texts does <i>not</i> exist, at least not on Skellig Michael, nor does the Force emblem inside a cave overlooking the ocean. There are no trees on Skellig Michael, and there's no cave, either. Those are creations of <i>The Last Jedi</i>, although the hermitage (again, accessible only with advance arrangements and proven significant climbing skills) atop the south peak of the island might come closest to the ledge from which Luke Skywalker levitates and projects his Force image during the fantastic final confrontation of <i>The Last Jedi. </i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Next time, finally, <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">I'll cover how my wife Beth and I reenacted the final scene of <i>The Force Awakens</i></a>, costumes and lightsaber and all atop Christ's Saddle. Until then, may the Force be with you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael</a></li>
<li>Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights (this post)</li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens</a></li>
</ol>
</div>
</div>
<h2>
</h2>
John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0Great Skellig, Skellig Rock Great, Ireland51.7706615 -10.54052449999994751.760835500000006 -10.560694499999947 51.7804875 -10.520354499999947tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-13983807803279092502019-03-11T22:05:00.000-04:002019-03-16T17:50:54.916-04:00A Star Wars Experience: Visiting Skellig Michael, Part 2: The Crossing and Logistics of the HikeSo you've decided to visit Skellig Michael, the real-life location of the mysterious island of "Ahch-To" from the recent Star Wars films. You've made your hotel bookings and reserved a spot (or spots!) with one of the boat operators licensed to land at the island. You've bought your plane tickets to the Emerald Isle. Great! But what do you need to know about the crossing to and your time on the island itself? Read on...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Little Skellig in the distance, viewed from about halfway up the stone stairs on Skellig Michael</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig.html" target="_blank">my prior blog post on visiting Skellig Michael</a>, I described some of the basic logistics of planning a trip to see the iconic island made famous by the recent <i>Star Wars</i> films, including when to go (late May or early September), where to stay (the village of Portmagee), and arranging a booking for a landing tour to get you to the island.<br />
<br />
This time, I'll cover the basics of the crossing to the island--roughly 8 miles by sea, or anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour-plus depending on conditions--as well as the logistics you'll need to enjoy your too-brief stay on Skellig Michael.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour</a></li>
<li>The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael (this post)</li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html" target="_blank">Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens</a></li>
</ol>
</div>
<br />
<h2>
What to Wear and Bring</h2>
I'm sure if you read my prior post, by now you are tired of hearing me say that the weather is fickle. But it bears repeating: You should plan for a range of weather during your trip, not just to Skellig Michael, but to Ireland. It rains a lot, so quick-drying synthetics are a must for starters. I'm a big fan of <a href="https://amzn.to/2NW7e6Q" target="_blank">Outdoor Research's pants ($99-ish, Amazon)</a> for these conditions; they're lightweight, water-resistant, breathable, and decent at blocking the wind.<br />
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<br />
Plan to layer; it can be chilly to downright cold, particularly in the shoulder season of May and September, and it's always windy out on the water and the island--but it can also be quite sunny and warm. I suggest a fleece as well as a a lightweight, water-resistant windbreaker.<br />
<br />
You'll want a hat; I prefer a lightweight, wide-brimmed one with a chin strap to keep it from sailing out to sea in a gust of wind. On a blustery day, a stocking cap or toboggan would be better.<br />
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Shoes? You want solid hiking shoes--not sandals, not sneakers--as once on the island, there's a hike up a lengthy series of stone stairs to reach the interesting parts, like Christ's Saddle (where Rey finds Luke at the end of <i>The Force Awakens) </i>and the monastery. My current favorites are <a href="https://amzn.to/2NUxM8k" target="_blank">Merrell Moab 2 waterproof trail shoes ($85-120, Amazon)</a>, though if you prefer more ankle support, feel free to go to full-fledged hiking boots.<br />
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You'll want your hands free during the hike up, so any gear you bring (like a camera or a Jedi Master's robes) should be in a comfortable backpack. I'm partial to anything from Osprey, but try to keep it lightweight like the <a href="https://amzn.to/2VQwGNO" target="_blank">Osprey Stratos ($100-$130, Amazon)</a> line; no need to throw off your balance or bonk fellow hikers with a big, bulky pack. You could also of course carry a well-worn shoulder bag containing a lightsaber.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RbAttczZecs/XIcM29piDVI/AAAAAAAACrM/VZe7L8YRd20JpTyBQErqveflOTdpCgCvgCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RbAttczZecs/XIcM29piDVI/AAAAAAAACrM/VZe7L8YRd20JpTyBQErqveflOTdpCgCvgCLcBGAs/s400/_MG_9411.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I know Beth is holding Obi-wan's lightsaber, not Luke's. Sue me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Some folks bring trekking poles. I didn't see the need for them, but if that's your thing, feel free. A few people during our visit brought them along.<br />
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There's also no food or water available on the island, so bring water and any small snacks you may need with you. (There's also no bathroom on the island, so be judicious with your coffee consumption prior to the crossing!)<br />
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Pack a small towel and perhaps some baby wipes; you may need to dry yourself or your gear off a bit after the crossing, and you may need to clean off the remains of breakfast...<br />
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<h2>
The Morning of Your Visit</h2>
Let's start from the village of Portmagee, which is the launching point for 13 out of the 15 boat operators licensed to land on the island. It's also where I strongly recommend staying so that you can avoid a pre-dawn drive and potential traffic on the Ring of Kerry if coming from points further afield.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boats moored at Portmagee's harbor</td></tr>
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The night before and again the morning of, you should double-check with your tour operator to see whether or not conditions are favorable for the trip and what the departure schedule will be for the morning. We were scheduled to leave by around 8:30am, but our operator indicated they wanted to go earlier to take advantage of the first clear weather in a week and requested we be at the pier no later than 7:00am (if I'm recalling correctly--it was definitely moved up from the original departure by an hour or more). Don't be left behind, because there are probably several other folks disappointed from prior days' cancellations who will happily take your place!<br />
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If your landing tour is cancelled due to weather, hopefully you have reserved a backup trip on a subsequent day, because <i>tour operators aren't likely to have space to accomodate you otherwise.</i> I cannot stress this enough: The weather is fickle, and you have probably a 25-35% chance of the weather crushing your once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Skelligs, so plan ahead accordingly! As advised in my prior post, you can book multiple trips a couple of days apart to give the weather time to improve, and if you make the first trip, great: chances are that you will be able to get the second refunded, and at worst, visit the island a second time. You can check in with the tour operators each morning to see if they have any cancellations, but don't count on it; people book months in advance, and with a weather cancellation rate of 25% or more, there are going to be a lot of people hoping to make the trip the next day as theirs was missed.<br />
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The morning of your trip, you definitely want breakfast, because it's going to be a long day... but be careful what you eat. The crossing can be (and often is) very rough, and even if you aren't prone to motion sickness, you may have problems. Don't eat a heavy, greasy breakfast! Don't even look at that traditional Irish meal of ham, black & white pudding, sausage, eggs, beans, and bread. Instead, opt for something bland and light, like perhaps some nice Irish oats or toast with jam.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish breakfast. You do NOT want to eat this before boarding the boat for Skellig Michael!</td></tr>
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And, keep in mind that neither the boats (with the exception of one) nor the island have bathroom facilities... and it's a world heritage site, so please don't expect to go behind one of those beehive huts to relieve yourself. Thus, you'll want to keep coffee and tea consumption to a minimum; save it for your lunch after you return from Skellig Michael.<br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 700;">Seasickness: A Fact of Life</span></h2>
Maybe you don't get motion sick; I rarely do, myself. Rest assured that the crossing to Skellig Michael can put even the most iron of stomachs to the test. The waters between Portmagee and the island are pretty rough, in part due to the ocean currents and waves that are in play every single day, even when the skies are completely clear and sunny.<br />
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You want to get to the island (duh!), and tour operators want to get you there (so that they can get paid!), so believe me that they will do everything to do so and will operate so long as conditions are safe... but that also means that a marginal day on the water is one they will attempt. That marginal day is perfectly safe, but can mean a longer, rougher crossing, with the waves pitching your boat up and down and side to side for more than an hour as you motor over to Skellig Michael.<br />
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Beth made the mistake of having that Irish breakfast, albeit a meatless one, but the eggs and potatoes and toast and beans were heavy fare for the morning. She was so sick she lost that breakfast, and more, several times during the crossing. I managed to avoid that embarrassment, but nonetheless had my gorge rise several times and barely bit back being sick.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uufOGX52wVo/XIcRKb4Ug1I/AAAAAAAACrw/Mj0nrwiTUbAZU728sUC7WKDhBq6AHeBDACLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uufOGX52wVo/XIcRKb4Ug1I/AAAAAAAACrw/Mj0nrwiTUbAZU728sUC7WKDhBq6AHeBDACLcBGAs/s640/_MG_9494.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth is standing too close to the back of the boat: You'll feel the waves and motion much more greatly at the back, so I advise positioning yourself closer to where the lady in the yellow jacket is standing...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Most tour operators advise against Dramamine and other motion-sickness drugs, and for good reason: Most anti-seasickness medications can leave you a bit woozy, and once on the island, you need to be sure on your feet. If you have taken Dramamine or other motion-sickness drugs (like the transdermal patch one) and tolerate them without too much effect to your balance, then by all means, take something to help.<br />
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My suggestions otherwise include:<br />
<ul>
<li>Stand as near the front of the passenger area as you can (typically right behind the pilot's cabin, near the front/back midpoint of the boat). Almost all the licensed boats are open air, and though you may be tempted to go have a seat at the back, that's the worst place to sit as every bit of motion will be magnified. </li>
<li>Stand along the side of the boat and face the wind. This really helps me and combats that clammy/hot onset of nausea.</li>
<li>Chew gum (dispose of it properly, though). I learned this trick when doing a marathon session at an old-timey amusement park with rickety, vomit-inducing rides. Somehow, the movement of your jaw and the constant equalization of pressure in your ears seems to help.</li>
<li>Focus on a point on the horizon that doesn't move so much and don't watch the waves or anything close by.</li>
</ul>
<div>
And, if you do have to vomit, try to aim over the side and facing <i>away</i> from the wind: Beth went into the wind and ended up with a mess on her jacket to clean up. (Remember, I did recommend bringing some baby wipes and paper towels.)<br />
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<h2>
The Crossing... and Landing</h2>
The route from the harbor at Portmagee to the landing at Skellig Michael is approximately eight miles, and depending on the conditions can take anywhere from 45 to 90 minutes. Once everyone is on the boat, given a safety briefing, and provided a life jacket or preserver (the different operators handle these different, for what it's worth), you'll be off on your way to the island!<br />
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Depending on the conditions, you may get several good looks at the island in the distance as you draw closer. Our skies were totally white when we departed, and I admit I didn't bother taking many photos (I was also trying to keep my breakfast down).<br />
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Once you arrive at the landing point, you may have to wait offshore for a few minutes as other boats disembark their passengers; it's one-at-a-time. And when your boat does pull up to the landing, you'll see another big reason why the conditions have to be just right to make the trip.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hl4ImdNacCc/XIcPZCe5V0I/AAAAAAAACrk/2IFgbbAscjAi2VKqZzYLZ5IoUTSPm2xtQCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hl4ImdNacCc/XIcPZCe5V0I/AAAAAAAACrk/2IFgbbAscjAi2VKqZzYLZ5IoUTSPm2xtQCLcBGAs/s640/_MG_9335.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The landing point at Skellig Michael. Note the people standing on the area to the left and above the boat: this is where you'll climb as the waves pitch the boat up and down against the rocks!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The waves will pitch your boat up and down while the crew keep it pushed up against the landing point. There's going to be a small ladder lowered toward the side of your boat, and that's what you are aiming for. Our operator told us to time things so that we grabbed the ladder as near the peak of the wave as possible, with the boat riding high.<br />
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There were a lot of people helping passengers off the boat, and our operator kept the boat as stable as possible, but people have fallen between the boats and the landing point before and have thus received serious, even fatal injuries. Be careful and don't become a statistic.<br />
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Once you're safely up on the landing site, the crew will give you a time to be back at the boat--usually somewhere about three or four hours in the future, giving you time to hike up the island's stairs, spend some time at the monastery ruins, and get plenty of pictures. We landed around 10:00am and were given until 2:30pm to return, if I recall correctly. Make sure to be back by the specified time, allowing yourself plenty of time to walk down safely (you don't want to rush!), as you don't want keep your boat (and all the other boats) waiting.<br />
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<h2>
The Climb</h2>
After a brief safety lecture from one of the island's park rangers, you can begin the climb to the good stuff. There are a lot of stone steps to reach Skellig Michael's points-of-interest: 618 all told to climb up the almost 600 feet from the near-sea-level landing point to Christ's Saddle and to the monastery ruins beyond.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boring part of the walk from the landing ... before the ascent!</td></tr>
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Suffice to say that there are a lot of folks online who seem terrified of the climb, but as far as heights and difficult climbs go, this is not particularly bad. The route used from the landing and then the ascent to Christ's Saddle are not particularly steep or narrow in most parts. That said, there isn't any way to accommodate someone who is unable to make the ascent; you'd have to wait at the landing point until the boat is ready to depart if you are physically unable to walk to the top. Honestly, though, it's "just" a bit over 600 stairs: You can do it!<br />
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Seriously; Beth is afraid of heights, and she had <i>zero</i> problems on this hike. By comparison, she couldn't even make it much past Landscape Arch at Arches National Park, where the hike to see Double-O Arch involved clambering up a sandstone fin about 3 feet wide and 20 feet high. She was likewise petrified on the ledges approaching Delicate Arch. The climb up the stairs at Skellig Michael are honestly no big deal, and if you need, simply stop for a moment and catch your breath, and keep focusing on the steps above you, not the drop-offs to the sea or the steps beneath.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mzd_M25hiH0/XIcTT1QDmNI/AAAAAAAACsI/_HE-jGuyV4QF-xJPLptfkkhgRuK3xLXZgCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mzd_M25hiH0/XIcTT1QDmNI/AAAAAAAACsI/_HE-jGuyV4QF-xJPLptfkkhgRuK3xLXZgCLcBGAs/s400/_MG_9351.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tourists ascending the stone stairs from sea level toward the fun parts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h2>
Summary</h2>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Stay in Portmagee (avoid traffic & getting up early); if your tour is cancelled due to weather, you can check with the boat operators for any last-minute openings the next day if you're still in town!</li>
<li>Dress in layers and with water- and wind-resistant clothes</li>
<li>Plan for seasickness; eat a light breakfast, consider medication, and stand or sit near the midpoint of your boat to minimize motion</li>
<li>The climb up the stairs <i>isn't that bad, </i>certainly nothing as scary as you may have read!</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
Next time, <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">I'll spend more time talking about the experience on the island itself</a>, including more on the climb up stone stairs (and back down), the monastery, Christ's Saddle, and will tie it all together with the film.<br />
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Until then, may the Force be with you.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour</a></li>
<li>The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael (this post)</li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html" target="_blank">Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens</a></li>
</ol>
</div>
<br />John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-11850370412642126872019-03-10T17:19:00.002-04:002019-03-16T17:49:18.293-04:00A Star Wars Experience: Visiting Skellig Michael Island, Part 1<i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens </i>delivered not just a revitalized chapter in the Star Wars saga but introduced fans to some fantastic and gorgeous new worlds. Much of the film's plot revolves around the search for Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, who in the years subsequent to 1983's <i>Return of the Jedi</i> vanished after seeing one of his promising pupils go bad in a serious way.<br />
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The film's final scenes (and if this is a spoiler to you, you've had four years to see the film!) feature the main character, Rey, completing the search and finding Luke Skywalker atop a craggy, mysterious island.<br />
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The best thing is that the island is real, and you can visit it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jEw9dazuDKw/XIVoRuLmUHI/AAAAAAAACqA/w7j6Hm1qq1g6Q38_pUEW9-31mt8WGVUOACEwYBhgL/s1600/_MG_9532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jEw9dazuDKw/XIVoRuLmUHI/AAAAAAAACqA/w7j6Hm1qq1g6Q38_pUEW9-31mt8WGVUOACEwYBhgL/s640/_MG_9532.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I see it... I see the island." -- Kylo Ren, <i>The Force Awakens</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In this first post, I'll address a bit of background history of the mysterious island and the logistics of visiting it (written from a well-traveled American visitor's point of view, though you can generalize my experiences easily). The next post will cover the crossing to the island itself as well as more of its history as well as logistics advice for your time on the island, and finally, I'll tie everything together into a view of the visit from a Star Wars fan's perspective.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li>Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour (this post)</li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html" target="_blank">Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens</a></li>
</ol>
</div>
<br />
<h2>
The Island: Skellig Michael</h2>
Skellig Michael, also known as the Great Skellig, is located a bit over seven miles from the Kerry coast of southern Ireland. Today a <a href="http://whc.unesco.org/pg.cfm?cid=31&id_site=757" target="_blank">UNESCO World Heritage site</a>, Skellig Michael was home to a small monastery dating to the fifth or sixth century. Though it later became a destination for religious pilgrims, the Great Skellig had been abandoned by its monks by the early thirteenth century.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruins of the 10th century church and the "beehive" huts</td></tr>
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In more modern times, Skellig Michael hosted two lighthouses erected during the early 19th century, and subsequently in 1880 the Office of Public Works took the monastic ruins under guardianship. Today, the ruins are carefully preserved, balancing access for tourists against the need to maintain the unique heritage and history for future generations to come.<br />
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<h2>
The Weather and When to Go</h2>
Irish weather is somewhat--nay, very!--fickle. The entire nation is so green for a reason: The Emerald Isle receives a ton of rain, with the western portions of the island (of which the Kerry peninsula is part) getting upwards of 50 inches of annual rainfall. The sunniest months are May and June, but there can be rainy stretches throughout the summer, with storms picking up in the fall and into winter. Remnants of hurricanes from the Atlantic season bring rain and winds to Ireland after they batter the Caribbean and the United States and cross the ocean, so keep in mind that the deeper into hurricane season you get in the late summer and early fall, the more you risk poor weather in Ireland, too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X4k4LnuoKUU/XIVnwCjV6DI/AAAAAAAACpw/uDDxiyC6N1grd3GuR6M3rC9eg8zoIPg8ACLcBGAs/s1600/_04A7551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X4k4LnuoKUU/XIVnwCjV6DI/AAAAAAAACpw/uDDxiyC6N1grd3GuR6M3rC9eg8zoIPg8ACLcBGAs/s400/_04A7551.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It had been sunny just 10 minutes earlier, I swear!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Besides having a sunny background for your photos and not getting soaked, weather is important to a trip to Skellig Michael for another reason: It's an island and accessible only by boat, and those boats simply won't operate if the conditions are bad. Skellig Michael sits right at a point where Atlantic swells break, making the waves bad enough absent strong winds or storms.<br />
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Right off the bat, this limits the time of year to visit to May 15th through September 30th, and a typical year sees the boats only able to operate 75% of the season (100 of the 130 days available); a particularly stormy summer or autumn can reduce that even further.<br />
<br />
Shoulder season if you want to include a tour of the island (and you do if you're reading this post, right?) is thus mid-May and late September--that's it, as the boats do not operate from October through April. June, July, and August, corresponding as they do to the summer holidays in most of the western hemisphere, are the peak tourist season by far.<br />
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We went in mid-September to reduce costs a little bit; lodging is somewhat cheaper, and the crowds are lower as well. Over the course of a week, we had appreciable rain pretty much every day except for one, though the sun did peek through on all but a couple of soaking days.<br />
<br />
<b>Regardless, keep in mind that the weather changes and changes a lot!</b> We had one morning where we started out with plenty of sun and did a hike out along the coast just across from the village of Portmagee, and the weather turned to mist and fog to steady rain. By the time we finished the hike and took a drive out along the Ring of Kerry, it had turned sunny again. Before we stopped to get dinner, it had turned to an all-out downpour.<br />
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One other consideration is whether or not you want to see the puffins, which inspired the adorable porgs in Star Wars: Puffins are typically only present from late April through early August, making May or June the best times to see them. A few may linger as late as September, but there were none when we visited--although there were a ton of other seabirds around.<br />
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<h2>
Getting There</h2>
Skellig Michael sits off the Kerry coast in southwestern Ireland. The nearest major airports are Shannon (SNN), about 3 hours away; and Cork (ORK), about 2.5 hours away by car, both of which offer several options via major airlines arriving both from North America and Europe. Kerry Airport (KIR) is much closer at just over an hour, but has limited flight options: AerLingus from Dublin, or Ryanair from London and "Frankfurt" (the latter in quotes as Hahn airport is 75 miles outside of the city proper, halfway to Luxembourg).<br />
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You'll almost certainly have to rent a car; though there are bus services, they require multiple connections, even from Kerry itself and span dozens of hours of travel. I suppose you could take a regular tourist bus to the Ring of Kerry and depart it there, and perhaps rejoin another tour a couple of days later, but the logistics strike me as rather burdensome. I shudder to think what a taxi or shared ride service would cost.<br />
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Car rental in Ireland is easy and relatively inexpensive, though you should invest in the full insurance coverage for your rental and watch the road shoulders: There is a reason for the ubiquitous tire (tyre) shops you'll see everywhere in the countryside. The roads are narrow, visibility poor, and dropping off the shoulder even by an inch will shred your tires. (I know. It happened to us.) And it requires driving on the left, although honestly, that's not as big a deal as most Americans seem to think it is. Pay attention and use common sense, and drive as slowly as you feel you need to--the majority of drivers seem to go under the posted limits, mind you, and others can pass--and you will be fine. Most cars take diesel fuel, and the majority are standard (stick-shift) transmission: If you need an automatic, reserve in advance, and expect to pay a premium. That said, I recommend an automatic even if you regularly drive stick, as the fact that you'll be driving while sitting on the right side of the car and would have to use your left hand to shift is one more distraction than necessary.<br />
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The Ring of Kerry is the primary road through the area, and it runs in a loop along the Kerry peninsula. The Ring in and of itself is a bit of a tourist attraction, with tour buses and much traffic throughout the day as people rush through on their way to kiss the Blarney Stone or visit Killarney National Park to the north or to visit this or that set of ruins. Most of the tour buses travel counterclockwise around the ring, so the typical suggestion to visitors is to go clockwise to avoid them and their crowds--though there's no avoiding the fact that the buses do take up in places a white-knuckle-inducing amount of the roadway!<br />
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Once you're in Kerry proper, there's only one way to get to Skellig Michael: by boat. More on this in a moment, after we get situated and figure out where to stay and eat while in town.<br />
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<h2>
Staying There: Portmagee</h2>
The village of Portmagee is the most convenient place to stay, with its limited lodging options literally directly across from the harbor from which the Skellig tours depart. There are several other small towns nearby along the Ring of Kerry, including Cahersiveen (about 15 minutes away) and Waterville (about 20 minutes), and a few other options along the Skellig Ring (Ballinskelligs, 20 minutes).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7U3ibQkA2pA/XIVoSh0zCGI/AAAAAAAACp8/ltAmF9AvEnIrjeuRipz9I6Mh4qKAVC0BwCLcBGAs/s1600/_04A7518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7U3ibQkA2pA/XIVoSh0zCGI/AAAAAAAACp8/ltAmF9AvEnIrjeuRipz9I6Mh4qKAVC0BwCLcBGAs/s640/_04A7518.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The village of Portmagee as seen from the Skellig Experience visitors center</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I suggest sticking to Portmagee for the convenience; you can always visit the other towns for dinner, and you can explore the Ring of Kerry when you're otherwise not on your Skellig Michael visit. You can walk to the harbor, and you don't have to fight with the tour buses and traffic of the Ring each morning. It's just that much simpler.<br />
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Before we get much further, let me say one thing: Book more than one night in Portmagee (we stayed three nights). This has to do with the particulars of the Irish weather which I touched on above and the boat transportation to Skellig Michael. The weather changes frequently, and tour operators absolutely will not go out to the island in poor conditions. I'd hate to come all the way to Ireland and then have my one night in Portmagee end watching the rain and wind from my hotel window rather than from atop Skellig Michael. Again, more on the boats momentarily...<br />
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In Portmagee, lodging options are a bit thin. There's <a href="http://www.moorings.ie/" target="_blank">The Moorings</a>, with the most rooms available (16) and the most convenient to the harbor itself. There are also a couple of B&Bs and guest houses nearby. That's it. What this means is that you need to book early, particularly if you're coming during high season (summer).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZW_SHCXrvok/XIVXeVj-FMI/AAAAAAAACpE/sRt6tu_DKT8KotR0hdoFGX690bNRZ1PlgCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZW_SHCXrvok/XIVXeVj-FMI/AAAAAAAACpE/sRt6tu_DKT8KotR0hdoFGX690bNRZ1PlgCLcBGAs/s400/_MG_9599.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Moorings and adjoining Bridge Bar pub</td></tr>
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The Moorings hosts a restaurant and pub, both with decent food and a selection of both local Irish microbrew beers and whiskey. Think seafood- and cream-sauce-heavy gastropub fare for dinner for the best dishes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eOfFh0jkqFM/XIVdD6t9F6I/AAAAAAAACpQ/8VsTJGMs_Mgo9U-1G7fnacag5ibp3Y2YwCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eOfFh0jkqFM/XIVdD6t9F6I/AAAAAAAACpQ/8VsTJGMs_Mgo9U-1G7fnacag5ibp3Y2YwCLcBGAs/s320/_MG_9300.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mushroom and cheese toast, I think</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L4Dr3A1wxZU/XIVdEDJvidI/AAAAAAAACpU/RRuQOfbN32AJokJ2ycfJ70LNEZAjURgxACLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L4Dr3A1wxZU/XIVdEDJvidI/AAAAAAAACpU/RRuQOfbN32AJokJ2ycfJ70LNEZAjURgxACLcBGAs/s320/_MG_9305.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local fish in cream sauce</td></tr>
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There are a few other dining options, again very limited: <a href="http://www.fishermansbarportmagee.com/" target="_blank">Fisherman's Bar</a> is the only other full-service restaurant in Portmagee offering both lunch & dinner. In my experience, it's offerings are not quite as good as the Moorings restaurant, but Fisherman's Bar can be a nice change of pace. If you're a beer geek, be forewarned that they have Murphy's and Guinness and a few other big-label quaffs, but I don't recall any microbrews or local beers on the menu.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M405mwXMGUE/XIVeNi8JjJI/AAAAAAAACpk/ngeRb-5nHmEb2j1uVdJTSNt_COTxjnE2gCLcBGAs/s1600/_MG_9676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M405mwXMGUE/XIVeNi8JjJI/AAAAAAAACpk/ngeRb-5nHmEb2j1uVdJTSNt_COTxjnE2gCLcBGAs/s320/_MG_9676.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seafood sampler at Fisherman's Bar</td></tr>
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There's also <a href="https://www.smugglerscafe.ie/" target="_blank">Smuggler's Cafe</a> in town, but they are only open for breakfast and lunch, and as our Moorings room included breakfast and we had lunch out and about all but our one day, we didn't get a chance to try them out.<br />
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There's plenty else to do in the vicinity of Portmagee despite it being a small village; I'll come back to this in a later post, highlighting some of the things we did when we weren't visiting the island.<br />
<br />
<h2>
The Boat to Skellig Michael</h2>
Remember, Skellig Michael is an island, and getting there involves a boat. Ireland limits the number of visitors to Skellig Michael to only 180 people per day to help preserve the historic and cultural treasures of the island, and correspondingly limits the number of tour operators as well. Like your hotel, book early to avoid disappointment, and may also want to reserve more than one crossing date in case of bad weather.<br />
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There are 15 licensed tour operators, all of whom have similar boats and charge similar prices to visit the island. Thirteen of them operate out of Portmagee (see why you should stay there?). Licenses are awarded by the Irish government every other year, which can make bookings a bit tricky, as no one operator is guaranteed to win a license. In fact, as I write this in March of 2019, the licenses for 2019 and 2020 have not yet been awarded, and no operators are able to take bookings for the season yet!<br />
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Most operators offer two different tour options: a "nature" or "eco" tour or cruise, and a "landing" tour. What you want is the <i>landing</i> tour, which actually goes to Skellig Michael and lets you explore the island for a few hours. The nature tours simply go out and around the rocks, giving you a tantalizing view of the island and its wildlife. They could be a nice consolation prize, I suppose, if you didn't get to land at the island, and they do operate more frequently through the day as well, which might offer the chance for a tantalizing sunset view of the island (an experience we didn't attempt when we visited, but which I'd love having subsequently seen <i>The Last Jedi </i>and its poignant penultimate scenes of the island).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical boat returning from the landing tour</td></tr>
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Peak summer season will typically run up to 85-100 euros ($100-115) per person with some of the operators, though shoulder season may see slightly cheaper prices. We used <a href="http://www.skelligsrock.com/" target="_blank">SeaQuest</a> after striking out on the first tour operator we inquired with (they were already fully-booked!) and were quite pleased--read more about the crossing in the next blog post in this series, coming soon (and no, I don't get any sort of kickback). In 2016 when we visited, our fares were 70 euros per person; ah, inflation.<br />
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As you can see from the photo above, these are not exactly large boats. I cannot state often enough that the authorities limit visitors to Skellig Michael to a maximum of 180 per day, and yes, because of Star Wars, the demand to visit the island is very high, particularly with the extended Kerry and Skellig Michael footage in <i>The Last Jedi</i>. Book early! Some of the tour operators will let you sign up to be notified when and if they receive a license for the year and are able to start accepting bookings, which I highly recommend.<br />
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Also, you may consider making reservations for multiple days. All of the operators I checked with do require payment in advance (some a few days before the tour, some at time of booking), which means you will be paying for multiple tours... but you really want to go to the island, don't you? If your scheduled booking ends up cancelling due to weather, you'll get a refund--but getting onto a different tour at the last minute is nearly impossible due to the demand. <b>As fickle as the weather is, don't travel all the way to Ireland, stay several days in Portmagee, and be disappointed due to your one chance to visit the island falling through.</b><br />
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We made reservations 2 days apart, figuring that if the weather canned our first booking, there would be a better chance it would clear up in two days rather than one. We discussed this with our tour operator, and they agreed, though they did remind us we'd be paying in advance for both tours. We ultimately did receive a refund for one of the bookings, as the subsequent trip did not get to run due to weather--leaving our successful outing the only one to operate within a 10 day span! Worst case assuming no weather cancellations would be making more than one trip to the island, which honestly wouldn't be a bad thing.<br />
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Finally, have a cell phone, or at least the contact info for your room at your hotel, because the night before and then early the morning of, your tour operator will confirm whether or not they'll be able to go that day--and in our case, SeaQuest advised on the morning of our reservation that they'd be leaving a half an hour earlier than scheduled to catch a break in weather. Some operators will re-confirm with you starting 2 days before your scheduled tour, and failing to re-confirm can lead to cancellation.<br />
<br />
<h2>
Summary</h2>
<div>
The website <a href="https://www.skelligmichael.com/booking-skellig-michael-landing-tour-boat-trips-definitive-guide/" target="_blank">SkelligMichael.com</a> offers a great overall summary of what to expect and how to plan (which I came across well after I started writing my own post); you may wish to visit their guide for more information, and of course use Google judiciously as well. To summarize my own points here:</div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>The season typically runs mid-May through the end of September</li>
<li>The best weather is in late May and June</li>
<li>Crowds are lowest later in the season</li>
<li>Fly to Shannon (SNN), Cork (ORK), or Kerry (KIR) and rent a car</li>
<li>Stay locally (Portmagee is my suggestion--13 out of 15 tour operators depart from there)</li>
<li>Expect to pay 85 to 100 euros per person for the landing tour of Skellig Michael</li>
<li>The weather is fickle--have backup plans to save disappointment! Consider multiple days' bookings, and stay in the area for several days to maximize your chances of success.</li>
</ul>
<br />
Next time, <a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">I'll talk about the logistics of the actual island visit (what to wear and bring) as well as the crossing</a>--and yes, the crossing is a big deal!<br />
<br />
Until then, may the Force be with you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Quick Index - Visiting Skellig Michael Parts I - IV</h3>
<div>
<ol>
<li>Basic logistics and background: Getting there, where to stay and eat, and booking a landing tour (this post)</li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_11.html" target="_blank">The crossing and logistics of the hike on Skellig Michael</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_15.html" target="_blank">Touring the island and its Star Wars sites and sights</a></li>
<li><a href="https://exerda.blogspot.com/2019/03/a-star-wars-experience-visiting-skellig_13.html" target="_blank">Reenacting the final scene of The Force Awakens</a></li>
</ol>
</div>
<br />John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0Great Skellig, Skellig Rock Great, Ireland51.7706615 -10.54052449999994751.760835500000006 -10.560694499999947 51.7804875 -10.520354499999947tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-50610329418874575832012-08-05T10:39:00.000-04:002012-08-05T10:40:01.833-04:00Putting the New Glass Through Its Paces: Initial Impressions of the Canon 500mm f4L III've been into bird photography for several years now, dating back to 2006 when I got my first SLR and a cheap 70-300mm zoom lens. While it's true that equipment does not make the photographer, inadequate gear, particularly when it comes to lenses, can hold one back--and I quickly outgrew the capabilities of that setup and upgraded to the professional 300mm f4L lens which served me well for several subsequent years. After this past fall's trip to the Bosque del Apache, I realized that I had again come to the point where I had gone as far as I could with my equipment. It was time to upgrade again, this time to the sort of glass that serious bird photographers employ.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JxygFuYLHOs/UB2aTgRi4oI/AAAAAAAAA0c/akb2jUlOY54/s1600/_MG_2810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JxygFuYLHOs/UB2aTgRi4oI/AAAAAAAAA0c/akb2jUlOY54/s640/_MG_2810.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your faithful correspondent putting the 500mm to the test at Huntley Meadows Park in northern Virginia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Canon's supertelephotos have long been the standard for the professional bird photographer, with the superb 500mm f4L and 600mm f4L the cream of the crop by which all others are judged. Last year, Canon announced redesigned versions of both, significantly reducing weight and improving their already-stellar optics--but the horrific earthquake, tsunami, and ensuing power crisis introduced significant production delays, and it wasn't until nearly this June that the lenses began to hit the streets.<br />
<br />
Reading the specs and early reviews on these lenses, it would seem like they were worth the wait. Regarding the Modulation Transform Function (MTF) charts for the lens, I won't bore you with the technical details--<a href="http://www.rrgphotography.com/direction/what-are-mtf-charts/" target="_blank">there are already some good explanations of how to read MTF charts out there</a>--but the charts alone promise some incredible theoretical performance. Let's just say that the various lines running across the top and so close together are indicative of fantastic edge-to-edge sharpness, resolution, and contrast. Compared side-by-side with its predecessor's MTF chart, it's evident that Canon made an already-great lens even better, optically-speaking:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/CUSA/assets/app/images/cameras/lenses/EF500_f4LIS_ii/sampleimg/ef500lisiiu_mtf.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.usa.canon.com/CUSA/assets/app/images/cameras/lenses/EF500_f4LIS_ii/sampleimg/ef500lisiiu_mtf.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">500mm f4L II MTF chart<br />
Courtesy of <a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/cusa/consumer/products/cameras/ef_lens_lineup/ef_500mm_f_4l_is_ii_usm" target="_blank">Canon USA's site</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td>
<td><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/CUSA/assets/app/images/lens/ef_500_4mtf.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.usa.canon.com/CUSA/assets/app/images/lens/ef_500_4mtf.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">500mm f4L (original version) MTF chart<br />
Courtesy of <a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/cusa/support/consumer/eos_slr_camera_systems/lenses/ef_500mm_f_4l_is_usm" target="_blank">Canon USA's site</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now compare that to the MTF chart for the venerable 300mm f4L I've used for a good part of the last decade, and you'll see quickly just how much better the 500mm f4L II is. Note that the 300 is indeed a fine lens with which I've taken prize-winning images--but even bare its performance is not up to that of the new 500 <i>with a 1.4x teleconverter attached!</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/CUSA/assets/app/images/lens/ef_300_4mtf.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.usa.canon.com/CUSA/assets/app/images/lens/ef_300_4mtf.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canon 300mm f4L MTF chart<br />
Courtesy <a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/cusa/consumer/products/cameras/ef_lens_lineup/ef_300mm_f_4l_is_usm" target="_blank">Canon USA's site</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And though MTF charts don't tell the entire story (they don't address chromatic aberration, for example), needless to say the new Canon lenses deliver across the board. I'm not going to even attempt to do the sort of in-depth review which professional gear junkies have already provided; for those details, I'll refer you to one of many available out on the Web, such as <a href="http://www.the-digital-picture.com/Reviews/Canon-EF-500mm-f-4-L-IS-II-USM-Lens-Review.aspx" target="_blank">The Digital Picture's review</a>. What I am going to do is share my initial experiences and some of the images I've captured in the first couple of weeks owning this fantastic piece of glass.<br />
<br />
As I mentioned earlier, Canon ran into a lot of production delays in getting this lens to the market--over a year later than originally announced when all was said and done. I had wanted to get my hands on one in time for spring migration birding, but alas, 'twas not to be. Come the promised "late April" release, then May, and into June, and no one had the lenses in stock yet. I scoured the Net on what seemed like a daily basis for information about a firm release date when at last I came across a posting on NatureScapes.net indicating that B&H Photo had recently shipped both the 500mm and 600mm lenses to a lucky photographer. Somehow, I'd missed that the lenses had gone from "pre-order" to "backordered" status sometime in early June! I immediately placed an order with Amazon (figuring the backorder waitlist might be a bit longer at B&H).<br />
<br />
Now, I've ordered a lot of camera gear from Amazon in the past, including one of my camera bodies (the Canon 50D), all of my lenses (including the 300mm f4L and 24-105mm f4L, both $1000-plus pieces of glass), and countless accessories. I must say that this is the first time I received a call and e-mail from a personal "camera concierge" after my purchase! Amazon followed-up with me a couple of times to provide updates on estimated delivery, as well as after shipment and arrival. I guess when you invest in something this pricey--the new 500mm is worth more than my car is at the moment!--Amazon wants to make sure everything goes smoothly. My only complaint is that though I paid the extra $3 for one-day shipping over the free two-day option I get as an Amazon Prime subscriber, they still sent it via UPS Ground on a Friday afternoon--meaning I spent an extra $3 for nothing as both would have come Monday regardless. I took off of work so I could sign for the package when it arrived; unfortunately, we've got a new UPS driver on our route who hasn't quite gotten down our address and who waited until nearly 6:00pm to swing by.<br />
<br />
I'm glad the driver didn't just leave the box on the stoop (Amazon did send it signature-required, though UPS has been known to ignore that before); it wasn't in Amazon packaging but was rather in a huge Canon box saying exactly what was in it--sort of like when I ordered the Playstation II several years ago and it came in Sony's blue box. I guess these are drop-shipped (the box even had an EVA Air Cargo label still on it), but nothing says "steal me" like the original, naked packaging left on the doorstep. Needless to say, I pulled the trigger on new insurance coverage immediately, too!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqqd9c2QmZg/UB2aRD_-hQI/AAAAAAAAA0M/t55_XJcpYTQ/s1600/_MG_1591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqqd9c2QmZg/UB2aRD_-hQI/AAAAAAAAA0M/t55_XJcpYTQ/s640/_MG_1591.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frog in Lac du Papillon (our backyard pond).<br />
Canon 50D, Canon 500mm f4L II, Canon 1.4x II<br />
Effective focal length of 700mm (optical), f/5.6, 1/40 sec., ISO 800</td></tr>
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The threat of thunderstorms had left the backyard rather overcast, but I wanted to try out the new glass right away. Although I didn't catch any great birds to photograph, I did spy one of our resident frogs and pointed the lens his way. Right away, I found out just what an amazing lens the new 500mm is; under the rather poor light, I had opened the aperture all the way (f/5.6 with the 1.4x teleconverter attached) to let in as much light as possible, dialed in a third of a stop of underexposure (for a third of a stop faster shutter) and cranked my camera's ISO up--and still ended up with a rather slow shutter speed of 1/40 second when shooting in my usual aperture priority mode. The rule of thumb for sharp images free of blur induced by camera motion alone is that the shutter speed must be at least the reciprocal of the lens' focal length. For the effective 700mm of optical focal length I had set up between the lens and 1.4x teleconverter--plus the additional 1.6x magnification over full-frame 35mm due to the Canon 50D's crop-factor APS-C sensor--that meant I needed around 1/1000 of a second to ensure a sharp photo.<br />
<br />
Note that I took the photo at 1/40 of a second--almost five full stops slower than the reciprocal rule would dictate is necessary--and that nonetheless it came out very nicely sharp. Part of that is due of course to my steady tripod rig and its <a href="http://www.tripodhead.com/products/wimberley-main.cfm" target="_blank">Wimberley Head version II</a>... but the lion's share can be attributed to the updated 4-stop image stabilizer inside the 500mm II. By comparison, my 300mm had the original, 2-stop image stabilizer--the 500 is able to maintain optical stability at a full four times (two stops) slower shutter speed than was possible in the 300.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CCrUL4UfCq4/UB2akusHeBI/AAAAAAAAA04/ebD1_pAy6o0/s1600/_MG_2763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CCrUL4UfCq4/UB2akusHeBI/AAAAAAAAA04/ebD1_pAy6o0/s400/_MG_2763.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting up for some hummingbird photography</td></tr>
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On top of that, the 500mm II is considerably sharper wide-open (at f/4, or f/5.6 when using the 1.4x teleconverter) than either its predecessor or the 300mm f4, both of which really need to be "stopped down" to f/8 or so to achieve optimum sharpness. This is something I'm really still getting used to, as I'm having to force myself to open the lens up to f/6.3 and even f/5.6 when with my prior setup I'd have never considered going any wider-open than f/7.1 due to the decrease in image quality. Finally, the fantastic resolution on this lens means that with a decently-high megapixel sensor, even images which fill only a small portion of the frame can be blown up without losing all detail; I was absolutely floored when I zoomed in on "ID pictures" I took of a few distant birds just to see what they were--the detail in comparison to my old 300mm was just unreal.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DR9VfpWC0I0/UB2aKtvwkTI/AAAAAAAAA0E/mYQZ8DxoQTk/s1600/_MG_1837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DR9VfpWC0I0/UB2aKtvwkTI/AAAAAAAAA0E/mYQZ8DxoQTk/s640/_MG_1837.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruby-throated Hummingbird in our backyard.<br />
Canon 50D, Canon 500mm f4L II, Canon 1.4x II, and 25mm of extension tube<br />
Effective focal length of 700mm (optical), f8, 1/500sec, ISO 800</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was a couple more days before I got enough sun in the yard to really try out the new lens. I set up near one of our hummingbird feeders and waited--then snapped the photo above. The angle of the light and a swarm of yellow jackets who kept trying to drive off approaching hummingbirds added to the challenge, but I'm quite pleased with the end result. The bird is sharp throughout and the background an almost-perfectly smooth <i>bokeh</i> due to the focal length and the lens' 9-bladed aperture--that darker smudge at the bottom is more my fault than the lens', as I failed to compose the shot in a way that excluded a brush pile against the fence (that pile being the darker area).<br />
<br />
I also for one of the first times put my extension tube set to the test, adding a 25mm extension to the lens for the hummingbird shot above. Extension tubes are simply hollow metal tubes with pass-through electrical contacts to keep the lens and camera connected to each other; they contain no glass elements. Extension tubes do a couple of things to the image: first, they reduce the minimum focusing distance (MFD) of the lens, allowing you to get closer to your subject--the 500mm II has a MFD of just over 12 feet compared to the 5-foot MFD of my old 300mm lens (conversely, extension tubes also reduce the maximum focusing distance so that it is no longer at infinity and thus very distant subjects will not be able to be brought into focus--but that's rarely an issue when going after professional, frame-filling images). Second, extension tubes slightly increase the subject magnification within the frame and thus allow for composition which yields better, smoother <i>bokeh</i> (background blur) to separate the subject from its background. To be fair, this magnification increase is very slight unless one really stacks on several millimeters worth of extension.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FhoE7IQLWEM/UB2aSbVPWjI/AAAAAAAAA0U/Z19I1dYgcdQ/s1600/_MG_1868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FhoE7IQLWEM/UB2aSbVPWjI/AAAAAAAAA0U/Z19I1dYgcdQ/s400/_MG_1868.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another frog from Lac du Papillon</td></tr>
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Outside of migration (late February through early June, and September through early November), the birds in our backyard aren't super interesting, so despite the oppressive heat and humidity, I eagerly made two early-morning treks down to Fairfax County's Huntley Meadows Park to take in some of the wetlands fauna.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p6a2mVP-tZE/UB2aGS79hOI/AAAAAAAAAz8/AAea1Wo-dnU/s1600/_MG_2012-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p6a2mVP-tZE/UB2aGS79hOI/AAAAAAAAAz8/AAea1Wo-dnU/s640/_MG_2012-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unlucky duet for these mating dragonflies--lucky breakfast for this Green Heron<br />
Canon 50D, Canon 500mm f4L II, Canon 1.4x II<br />
Effective focal length 700mm (optical), f/8, 1/1250 sec, ISO 400, -2/3 exposure compensation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My first morning, I came across several Green Herons hard at work filling their bellies with breakfast. I caught the image above just after this one had scarfed down a red dragonfly--the pair of mating dragonflies drifted a bit too close in their throes of passion. Not to be too greedy, the heron did release one of the two before swallowing its hapless mate.<br />
<br />
I really like the action in this image; for years, I'd done some very good perched bird shots, but truly great bird photos involve some aspect of behavior: flight, foraging, mating, defending one's territory, and so forth. These images are obviously much more difficult to bag due to the challenges of gaining and maintaining good focus as well as the simple fact that birds do not perform on command--you just have to be there and hope that everything comes together correctly to yield a great shot. That's also where having the absolute best gear plays a significant role: I don't want to have to worry about problems with focus, with contrast or light, etc.; I want to simply record the action I see and get great images.<br />
<br />
For the Green Heron shot above, in retrospect I would have gone with my 25mm extension tube mounted and would have opened the aperture up to f/6.3 or so to give a bit better <i>bokeh</i>, but I'm still not quite used to the ability to shoot at full-open or nearly-so and still get nice, sharp images.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ECR4_5McZrA/UB5-VMnm4II/AAAAAAAAA1k/FXWVbBAbGSk/s1600/_MG_2415-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ECR4_5McZrA/UB5-VMnm4II/AAAAAAAAA1k/FXWVbBAbGSk/s640/_MG_2415-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juvenile Barn Swallow at Huntley Meadows Park<br />
Canon 50D, Canon 500mm f4L II, Canon 1.4x II<br />
Effective focal length of 700mm (optical), f/8, 1/500 sec, ISO 400, -2/3 exposure compensation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I also managed to stake out a pair of juvenile Barn Swallows who'd perched on a snag near one of the boardwalks. A couple of years ago, I captured images of slightly-younger babies begging for food from the adults who zoomed around constantly, but these two birds were old enough to get by on their own. Still, I held out for some sort of a behavior shot instead of just plain perching, and after about 15 or 20 minutes caught this one stretching. Even without perfect light--he was turned a bit into the sun verses being well-sidelit--the contrast and detail delivered by the 500mm II are quite nice, and it would be tough to ask for smoother <i>bokeh</i>.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PDsikvOB5kk/UB2aZM37TqI/AAAAAAAAA0k/Mkr9lB1ZJjI/s1600/_MG_2825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PDsikvOB5kk/UB2aZM37TqI/AAAAAAAAA0k/Mkr9lB1ZJjI/s400/_MG_2825.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heavy!</td></tr>
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I wrapped up my photo shoot by about 9:30am each morning, which is when the influx of rowdy children out with their parents for weekend nature walks typically begins at Huntley Meadows, making bird photography much more challenging as the day winds on. Too, it was already stiflingly-hot and muggy, and my shoulder was just about worn out carrying my tripod and the 500mm. Yes, Canon did reduce the weight of the mark II by a good pound and a half over the original version, and yes, it's possible to handhold it for short periods for getting good bird-in-flight shots, but this lens still comes in at over seven pounds and does necessitate a good tripod with a gimbal head like the Wimberley. I've had to order a new camera backpack--my Think Tank ShapeShifter doesn't have any capacity for such a large piece of glass!--and went with a Gura Gear Kiboko 22L+ which I'll talk more on once I've had a chance to break it in. I also need to pick up a used "baby jogger" stroller, which seems to be the normal method of wheeling around all one's big photo gear when out at the park.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DUZetvutAFc/UB5-PxW4RaI/AAAAAAAAA1c/tM-bLbBHOXs/s1600/_MG_1701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DUZetvutAFc/UB5-PxW4RaI/AAAAAAAAA1c/tM-bLbBHOXs/s400/_MG_1701.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canon 500mm f4L II (left), compared with the Canon 300mm f4L (right).<br />
Both lenses shown with lens hoods extended.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I haven't tried out my Better Beamer flash extender yet, but I do expect to get much better results using it in tandem with this lens than I did with my 300mm--hmm, that's probably something I can test out in the backyard, in fact.<br />
<br />
Next week, I'm taking a brief mid-week trip down to Fort Meyers, Florida, to try the new glass out in Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge and will surely post the results of that expedition. I really can't wait until the fall comes and I get a chance to really put this lens to work; besides covering our own migrating birds in the backyard and at Huntley Meadows, I already have trips planned to Idaho and Monterey, California, for some serious birding, and may try to work in a southern California outing as well--and don't forget that Beth and I are going to Thailand for a week where we'll go on a grand <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/12/birding-kaeng-kracharn-national-park.html" target="_blank">birding adventure with Tony Eagle Eye</a>, and where I hope to capture a shot of the critically-endangered Spoon-billed Sandpiper (I didn't even try with my 300mm previously--the bird was small enough in Tony's spotting scope that I knew there was no chance to record even an ID photo with my old lens).<br />
<br />
Look for much to come as I enjoy this fantastic new birding lens!<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B004M8SWB0&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B0040X4PUE&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-75979714527795797192012-07-08T22:00:00.000-04:002012-07-09T20:00:41.769-04:00Volcanism and a Trip to America's First National ParkSomething about the beauty and wonder of Nature really speaks to me, both as a photographer and as a human being. The American system of National Parks encompasses some of the most magical and fantastic natural places around, and though I've had the privilege to visit many of them ranging from the Martian landscapes of Arches to the towering forests of coastal Redwoods, I had yet to visit the one park that started them all: Yellowstone. That changed this past May when I treated myself to a belated birthday trip out to Montana and Wyoming and to that land Ulysses S. Grant and later Teddy Roosevelt set aside "for the benefit and enjoyment of the people" for all time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HozZyG4yjwI/T_iqFG4y1HI/AAAAAAAAAwA/8Fy4nrWVHHY/s1600/_MG_8110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HozZyG4yjwI/T_iqFG4y1HI/AAAAAAAAAwA/8Fy4nrWVHHY/s640/_MG_8110.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Porcelain Basin in the Norris Geyser Basin area</td></tr>
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I'd looked into visiting Yellowstone several times previously via nearby Jackson Hole, Wyoming, but always found the air fare a bit pricier than I could justify for a weekend jaunt, and work had kept me too busy to devote more than a day or two away. This May, though, I decided that rather than visiting somewhere I'd been many times like Monterey, California, I'd take the splurge and go to Yellowstone via Bozeman, Montana--which also happened to be about a hundred dollars cheaper than Jackson Hole.<br />
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To prepare for the trip, I consulted several books, including the wonderful <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0970687338/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0970687338&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Yellowstone Treasures</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0881507695/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0881507695&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Photographing Yellowstone National Park</a>, </i>and discussed plans with both my wife Beth and with her godmother Joy, who have visited the park before. Yellowstone is a huge park at nearly 3500 square miles and offers many different attractions--from mountain valleys to river canyons to wildlife large and small--but what I was most interested in were its geothermal features.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mFauKsf0oRI/T_mP81Z0uuI/AAAAAAAAAwM/I75yDagZ_lY/s1600/_MG_7705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mFauKsf0oRI/T_mP81Z0uuI/AAAAAAAAAwM/I75yDagZ_lY/s400/_MG_7705.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Faithful in its initial phase of eruption</td></tr>
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A large portion of the park sits atop the Yellowstone Caldera, a massive, active "supervolcano" where the molten magma of the earth's mantle comes close to the surface. Though the park lacks the iconic lava cones people most often associate with volcanoes such as those in Hawaii, Iceland, and countless stop-motion dinosaur movies set on tropical Shangri-Las and is located away from the plate boundaries which define so much of the Pacific "Ring of Fire" and its oft-violently-active volcanoes, Yellowstone is nonetheless an extremely active place vulcanologically and hosts the largest concentration of geysers and hot springs in the world. Every schoolchild knows about "Old Faithful," portrayed in cartoons and many a classic television short as erupting like clockwork on the hour (in reality, the park's iconic geyser varies from just shy of an hour to up to an hour and a half--rangers can estimate this period within ten minutes of accuracy based on the duration of the prior eruption).<br />
The hotspot beneath the Yellowstone Supervolcano provided the massive basalt flows of the Snake River plain to the west, having erupted repeatedly over the past 18 million years or so, with recent eruptive activity occurring roughly every 650,000 years (last time forming the current Yellowstone Caldera--gulp--about 640,000 years ago). Though scientists are not particularly concerned about the prospects of a new eruption--such fears are more the fodder of apocalyptic sensationalism--within the past decade there was a brief period of significant rise of the magma dome beneath the park which drove many of its geothermal features into frenzied activity, even for a short period necessitating the closure of public access to the Norris Geyser Basin.<br />
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In all my reading about the park's geothermal activity and the few nature documentaries I'd watched which focused on the same (and not, say, on the park's wolves and other wildlife), I had built up something of an image of Hell in my mind's eye, with suffocating clouds of sulfurous steam bubbling from every fissure in the earth itself and scalding ponds of boiling, acidic mud ready to ingest the unwary explorer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cFPRWk9YYPg/T_mUDwN4pcI/AAAAAAAAAwY/T3FCOLzF6Ec/s1600/_MG_1541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cFPRWk9YYPg/T_mUDwN4pcI/AAAAAAAAAwY/T3FCOLzF6Ec/s640/_MG_1541.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boiling sulfurous lakes in the Sulfur Cauldron--with a pH lower than that of stomach acid</td></tr>
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Thanks to several flight delays, I arrived in Bozeman, Montana, a bit after midnight and thus wasn't exactly ready to rise to drive the two hours south into Yellowstone in time for sunrise--but given my recent luck as a nature photographer, I found the morning grey and cloudy anyway (note to self: find the patron saint of photography and make him or her a generous donation; I'm getting rather tired of overcast skies and dreary rains, something dating back to my 2010 visits to Monterey and throughout 2011, even to places like the deserts of Saguaro National Park and Joshua Tree National Park!).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jfdaKcW75XE/T_mXpohmmTI/AAAAAAAAAwo/CXNEE5guHTE/s1600/_MG_6588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jfdaKcW75XE/T_mXpohmmTI/AAAAAAAAAwo/CXNEE5guHTE/s400/_MG_6588.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Travertine in Mammoth Hot Springs</td></tr>
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My route brought me into the park via its North Entrance, through the famous Roosevelt Arch in Gardiner, Montana, which declares Yellowstone as "for the benefit and enjoyment of the people." Even on such a rainy weekday morning (I arrived on a Friday, hoping to avoid some of the weekend crowds), it seemed every single car passing through had to stop and be photographed beneath the arch. Entering the park from the north also grants the opportunity to stop in Mammoth Hot Springs to see the travertine terraces, a series of towering mineral formations dominating the hillside beyond the park's main visitor's center.<br />
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Located outside the boundaries of the Yellowstone Caldera, the travertine and the hot springs which fuel their deposition are nonetheless fueled by the heat of the Norris Geyser Basin many miles to the south: a fault line connects the areas geologically, allowing superheated, acidic water to travel north through limestone-laden rock. Calcium carbonate thus dissolved from the fault makes its way to the terraces, where it precipitates out with the springwater and results in an ever-changing landscape as the terraces grow at a rate of up to several inches a year.<br />
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Between the sulfurous fumes ("What a wonderful smell you've discovered," to quote Han Solo) and the altitude of around 8000 feet above sea level, the hike up to the top of the travertine terraces had me stopping to pant and catch my breath several times--in fact, I often felt like I wouldn't actually be able to catch my breath given the thinness of the atmosphere and its rank quality.<br />
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Driving farther south into the park, I next stopped at the Norris Geyser Basin, Yellowstone's hottest and most active geothermal region. Rangers closed the basin to public access in 2003 when many of the geothermal features superheated and began bellowing constant streams of steam and the ground itself became dangerously hot. Though again open to the public today, the Norris basin sees the most thermal activity, with its major geysers (including the world's tallest, Steamboat Geyser) completely unpredictable and many of its hot springs and fumaroles changing rapidly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YOdG6AFLnvg/T_mxfboG-5I/AAAAAAAAAw0/sTLa3C-1SPA/s1600/_MG_1644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YOdG6AFLnvg/T_mxfboG-5I/AAAAAAAAAw0/sTLa3C-1SPA/s640/_MG_1644.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two of Norris' hot springs and occasional geysers near Pork Chop Geyser, which exploded several years ago (1989) and showered the area with rocks. I believe the larger of the two may be Bastille Geyser; I was thinking it was Pearl Geyser, but it's on the wrong side of the boardwalk for that.</td></tr>
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Norris is a fantastic place and features two long loop trails (much of the way along boardwalks--protecting both the delicate features from human feet and, well, protecting humans from the hot, acidic earth and springs). The "back basin" trail--named due to it at one point being in back of a museum which has subsequently been relocated--feels the more isolated of the two, winding through stretches of lodgepole pine forest and into several open plains housing geothermal features. The back basin loop passes Steamboat Geyser, which as described earlier is the world's tallest at over 300 feet--that is, when it undergoes a major eruption, which hasn't happened since 2005 (and at times, Steamboat has gone 50 years between major eruptions), as well as dozens of hot springs, fumaroles (steam vents), and other geothermal features.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SLBZ8h9pLck/T_m2Hw2BhKI/AAAAAAAAAxA/_SjuR7mREzs/s1600/_MG_1749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SLBZ8h9pLck/T_m2Hw2BhKI/AAAAAAAAAxA/_SjuR7mREzs/s640/_MG_1749.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colorful runoff from Steamboat Geyser</td></tr>
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When I first walked the back basin loop, the day remained overcast and dreary and cool enough to necessitate a jacket with temperatures in the low 50s. Though these conditions didn't lend themselves well to good photography, I nonetheless explored the blasted landscape with wonder--albeit somewhat tainted by the fact that the experience wouldn't quite be its best and first-times only come once. (Seeing Bryce Canyon's hoodoos for the first time under the last light of dusk was such a seminal experience I had to choke back a few tears, for example--and thanks to the weather, Yellowstone's geothermal features did not get the chance to really strut their best during that first impression.)<br />
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The air in the Norris basin hangs heavy with moisture venting from all across the ground, laden with an almost-indescribable stench carrying undertones of burned matches and tinges of rotten eggs, and every shift of the wind threatens to engulf hikers in rank clouds from the ever-present geysers and fumaroles. I actually got used to the smell a lot more quickly than I had anticipated, though, and it is certainly a part of the atmosphere (no pun intended) of the volcanic land inextricable from the bubbling pools and steaming geyser mouths. I hate to think of celebrity chef Emeril in this context or quote him at any time, but hey, "you need smell-o-vision" to really capture the full experience of Yellowstone's geothermal features.<br />
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During my hike around the back basin, I really wished I had my nephew Iain along. He's at that age where young boys are sure they're going to grow up to be vulcanologists (or perhaps paleontologists--dinosaurs and volcanoes seem inextricably linked in the eyes of five-year-olds)--and here I was, walking alongside what arguably he'd see as real, live volcanoes in action. Beyond the sights and smells, the <i>sound</i> of the park around me, too, was something that photos, no matter how many thousands of words they stand in for, really cannot do justice to. Depending on the particular feature nearest-by, there can be low growls, hissing, bubbling, rumbling... well, all manner of the sorts of things you'd expect to hear from such a hot, strained environment. I attempted to record several videos with my cell phone, but a bug in the particular software resulted in many extraneous crackles in the audio which weren't present at the actual site.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qap5gmqo6hE/T_nFQAPl7QI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/s0yTH5ax2XY/s1600/_MG_7079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qap5gmqo6hE/T_nFQAPl7QI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/s0yTH5ax2XY/s640/_MG_7079.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gnome face in the Porcelain Geyser Basin area</td></tr>
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On the opposite side of a ridgeline from the back basin loop is the appropriately-named Porcelain Geyser Basin (still a part of the broader Norris Geyser Basin), pictured as the lead-in image for this blog. Various minerals give the hot springs of the area an opalescent appearance, hence the "porcelain" appellation. The acidic pH of the waters throughout the area give rise to many different species of thermophillic bacteria, archea, and algae which color the runoff and rims of the springs differently than those in other areas of the park. As the Porcelain basin is much more open than the nearby back basin area (as well as being located closer to the parking lot), it can feel somewhat more crowded.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qIWgi1jwDF4/T_rZKzoyrCI/AAAAAAAAAys/xSO2GExePZk/s1600/_MG_6817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qIWgi1jwDF4/T_rZKzoyrCI/AAAAAAAAAys/xSO2GExePZk/s640/_MG_6817.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Runoff from Echinus Geyser</td></tr>
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Many visitors will mistakenly attribute the vivid colors seen throughout the various thermal features to minerals present in the earth, particularly sulfur and iron for the yellows, reds, and oranges. Though these minerals are indirectly responsible for the artist's palette of colors seen, the actors directly painting the landscape are microorganisms. In cooler waters farther from the pools and geysers themselves, algae and cyanobacteria contribute blues and greens, while in the deeper hot springs and thermal pools and along the mouths of geysers the hyperthermophillic bacteria and members of the <i>Archea </i>domain (single-celled organisms with a distinct evolutionary heritage from bacteria) perform metabolism dependent upon sulfur and other minerals and provide many of the reds and oranges seen. The adaptive mechanisms of these organisms to such high-temperature and often-acidic environments have played a huge role in modern biotechnology: the enzyme <i>Taq polymerase</i>, isolated from the bacterium <i>Thermus aquaticus--</i>itself originally discovered in Yellowstone's hot waters--is what makes so much of the study of DNA possible.<br />
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Note that weather conditions can play a large role in what you'll see in the Norris Geyser Basin; for example, on the dreary Friday when I first hiked through the area, temperatures were in the low 50s and at times I experienced rain, sleet, and even snow, all of which led to huge clouds of steam condensing in the air above the basin's geothermal features. In the Porcelain Basin, I could only see several of the geysers intermittently, even in the warmest temperatures of the afternoon, due to the fog-like clouds of steam, and I stood at the edge of the boardwalk waiting for the wind to shift <i>just so </i>to disperse the vapors enough to snap a photo or two. The next day, a relatively clear Saturday, found the exact same features clear and quite visible beneath the noon sun after the morning chill had boiled away. Likewise, photographers interested in the rainbow hues of the various thermal pools and springs need the sun to be high in the sky and unobstructed to really penetrate and illuminate up the depths.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--q8uGzUSd6s/T_nKiJQuR6I/AAAAAAAAAxc/FyeWtvKTnYM/s1600/_MG_8153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--q8uGzUSd6s/T_nKiJQuR6I/AAAAAAAAAxc/FyeWtvKTnYM/s640/_MG_8153.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colorful runoff from Pinwheel Geyser in the Porcelain Basin area--the green is produced by algae and cyanobacteria which thrive in the cooler temperatures several feet away from the vent itself</td></tr>
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My next stop was at the Artist Paint Pots, which Verderber highlights in his <i>Photographing Yellowstone</i> as a less-crowded alternative to the Fountain Paint Pots. Paint pots are pits of acidic mud up through which sulfurous gasses bubble; lacking the level of water of hot springs, they instead put on a fascinating show of goopey, roiling mud. Seasonal patterns in groundwater affect the quality of the mud: in wetter months, the paint pots may be soupy and more springlike; in the depths of summer or an early fall drought, the mud can completely dry out and becomes the cracked mouth of a gas vent. At the Artist Paint Pots, the leftmost (western) of the two paint pots tends to be the drier and more active and had the perfect consistency during my visit to capture spurts and explosions of thick bubbles of mud.<br />
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Incidentally, Verderber is right about the crowds; although it was afternoon and a prime time for visitors to be out and about, I had plenty of time to myself with the Artist Paint Pots to take photos and even a bit of video (again, noisy due to an issue with my phone). The reason most likely has to do with the hike, which from the parking lot climbs some steep staircases and winds about a mile back into the paint pots themselves--it's not a difficult hike, <i>per se</i>, but unlike the Fountain Paint Pots, these features are not located right off the main park road and do require a bit more work to reach.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1vPheeyfoTI/T_rZMaJSaZI/AAAAAAAAAy0/NCp23Uaccw4/s1600/_MG_7351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1vPheeyfoTI/T_rZMaJSaZI/AAAAAAAAAy0/NCp23Uaccw4/s640/_MG_7351.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acidic mud bubbles in the Artist Paint Pots</td></tr>
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I had hoped to catch something of sunset--after all, for the landscape photographer, the "golden hours" around dawn and dusk are the two most productive times of day when the sun's rays are long and bring out magical colors across the skies and the land beneath--but as I gave in to hunger and drove out the park's west entrance to West Yellowstone, Montana, in search of dinner and the night's lodging, the cloud-ridden skies didn't promise much. I ended up heading to bed a bit early with plans to arise and drive in to Yellowstone Lake for sunrise the following morning.<br />
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There's a saying about the best laid plans, I believe, and mine were a bit upset by noisy kids tromping up and down the wooden stairs and balcony outside the hotel room. Well, that and the fact that I had neglected to include the transit time from my hotel in West Yellowstone to Madison Junction inside the park, leaving me a good half an hour short on time--the sun was already coming up by the time I reached the Old Faithful area still a good 25 minutes or so away from Yellowstone Lake. Given the skies were still fairly white Saturday at daybreak, I didn't miss out on much anyway, I suppose--and I made the strategic decision to U-turn back to Biscuit Basin, a broad, steam-filled area I'd passed between Madison Junction and Old Faithful.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DesmWozaKRU/T_olsz5apvI/AAAAAAAAAxo/NGhiSqJHIO0/s1600/_MG_7560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DesmWozaKRU/T_olsz5apvI/AAAAAAAAAxo/NGhiSqJHIO0/s640/_MG_7560.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghost of a lodgepole pine in one of Biscuit Basin's hot springs</td></tr>
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The morning stop at Biscuit Basin turned out to be an inspired if serendipitous choice, as I managed to arrive during a period of fairly intense thermal activity that cloaked the entire basin in an ethereal fog through which the basin's blue and green pools peaked and blended together. At one point, I witnessed the movement of a hot spot of some kind through the basin: Jewel Geyser and Shell Spring, both back closer to where I'd begun my morning walk started violently hissing and bubbling furiously, then within a couple of minutes Mustard Spring where I stood started spouting. As the activity behind me at Jewel Geyser died away, an geyser unnamed on my map about twenty feet out into the basin beyond Mustard Spring started fizzing and steaming. Several waves of intensified activity thus passed through, giving a rough indication of the unseen hydrothermal plumbing connecting the geothermal features around me.<br />
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I will note that when the morning temperatures are close to or a bit below freezing, the boardwalks can be treacherously slick with frost--so be careful! I could tell exactly where the ground was hot as those stretches of boardwalk were ice-free and merely damp, but downwind of any of the steaming pools over cooler stretches of ground made for very slow-going walking to avoid taking a nasty tumble.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KtPoxAxHZXE/T_ooy9gVb-I/AAAAAAAAAx4/A41jJbNPESk/s1600/_MG_7661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KtPoxAxHZXE/T_ooy9gVb-I/AAAAAAAAAx4/A41jJbNPESk/s640/_MG_7661.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Runoff into the Ironspring River from the Black Sand Basin</td></tr>
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After my breakfast at Biscuit Basin, I drove a short distance to the Black Sand Basin, where I watched Cliffside Geyser erupt and spied an Osprey out fishing from the Ironspring River. Both Biscuit and Black Sand Basins were an interesting contrast to Norris, with features more broadly-spaced and of a different character. And although the chilly start to the day left plenty of geothermal steam clinging close to the landscape, the sun had started to poke through the clouds overhead, making for some beautiful photographic contrast as well.<br />
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One thing to note about Yellowstone and its inevitable summer crowds: mornings are the best time to visit the park. While most people are still snug in their beds or at the most up and having a bite of breakfast, you can be exploring with at least a couple of hours largely to yourself. I was the only person in Biscuit Basin that morning, and there was only one other vehicle parked at Black Sand Basin (presumably attracted by the eruption of Cliffside Geyser). An added plus is that pre-dawn and the immediate hour or so afterwards are the best times of day to spot a lot of the park's wildlife and without the inconvenience of lengthy traffic backups seen closer to dusk as the day's visitors slow down to spy the bison who will be out for dinner at that time of day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JZHi-BMPQ-A/T_otecZP3UI/AAAAAAAAAyE/6PrS-9UrEvE/s1600/_MG_7664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JZHi-BMPQ-A/T_otecZP3UI/AAAAAAAAAyE/6PrS-9UrEvE/s400/_MG_7664.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliffside Geyser</td></tr>
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Next up on the Grand Loop road tour through the park was its most famous landmark, Old Faithful. The rangers had not yet updated the schedule with the morning's next projected eruption (as the visitor center didn't open until 9:00am), but I figured that at most I had about an hour and a half to wait--probably less, as I'd been parked in the lot, downloading the dawn's set of photos to my laptop to free up more room on the camera memory cards (by the end of the two-and-a-half day trip, I'd log over 3000 shots, so this quickly became a routine) and hadn't seen any sign of eruption for the first 20 minutes or so I'd spent there. Eventually, I trudged over to the massive, amphitheater-like seating area surrounding the big geyser and picked out a choice spot for my camera and tripod, among the first of what would soon become a rather large crowd of spectators.<br />
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I need to pause for a moment to observe that when out in Nature, people either seem to speak in low whispers (as if inside some sacred site--which I suppose they indeed are), or to shout at full volume when "talking" to the person standing two feet away? Several times during my trip, I overheard one side of a conversation in Mandarin from over a hundred feet away, as if the women speaking were like those self-important businessmen you overhear on planes or in airport lounges, virtually shouting into their cell phones about some big mega-deal in the works. I encountered several other Asian tourists--Japanese and Korean by their language--and took photos for little groups and couples interested in posing before this or that geothermal feature, and all spoke in that same reverent indoors voice; the shouting seemed limited to Chinese speakers. The Chinese women I work with are rather soft-spoken--but the men do say that it is not atypical for there to be "loud" Chinese women demanding that every sight be seen (or announcing they're not getting out of the car into all that icky mud, no way). I just don't know.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x9FCuYcLUiM/T_pOSkZUGZI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/6zA9x9EPyQ8/s1600/_MG_1426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x9FCuYcLUiM/T_pOSkZUGZI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/6zA9x9EPyQ8/s640/_MG_1426.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mountain Bluebird patiently waiting for the eruption of Old Faithful</td></tr>
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Several of the later-arriving tourists asked around or spoke within their own groups: "Isn't it supposed to erupt at 9:00? It's five 'til and doesn't look like much yet. Nah, it's going to go on the hour--that's why it's called 'Old Faithful,' innit?" I kept my inward snickering to myself--I mean, visitors who hadn't bothered to even read one thing about the park's most iconic feature, who seemed to only know so much as was visible in a Bugs Bunny cartoon or two? However, I'd been in place for nearly 50 minutes with another 20 in the car, so was getting a bit antsy myself for the eruption we'd all lined up to see.<br />
Sure enough, at about ten after nine, the steam output of Old Faithful suddenly began to ratchet up (see prior photo in this entry, above, for that rising steam column), and in moment a vast shaft of boiling white blasted dozens of feet into the skies, to be seen nude only a few seconds before wrapping itself in a cloak of steam for the remainder of the eruption--an eruption brief enough to give the rangers their first estimate of the day, setting the time for the subsequent blast a mere 65 minutes in the future.<br />
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On my limited schedule, I only had time to see so many things and thus walked away from a boardwalk loop around the Upper Geyser Basin--saving it for an occasion when I can return and share the wonders of Yellowstone with my wife Beth. Although I'd been awake for nearly 6 hours, it wasn't even 10:00am yet, and I finally turned for my original morning destination in the West Thumb Geyser Basin and Yellowstone Lake--the largest lake at this altitude of over 8000 feet above sea level. The tourists had already begun to arrive in force, so I had to be quick in navigating the boardwalks and easing into position to capture the photos I wanted, like one of Fishing Cone where brave folks would once catch fish from the lake, then drop the hapless fish into the cone--<i>voila</i>, parboiled fish, coming up!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AX5RteUXT58/T_pSnD84wyI/AAAAAAAAAyc/bRpYhmlAuRI/s1600/_MG_1484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AX5RteUXT58/T_pSnD84wyI/AAAAAAAAAyc/bRpYhmlAuRI/s640/_MG_1484.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing Cone in Yellowstone Lake</td></tr>
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Many of the other thermal features near Yellowstone Lake weren't something which called to me quite the same way as did the Norris Geyser Basin's, so I didn't linger long as I waded through the crowds of tourists disgorged from tour bus after tour bus pulling into the lot. I still had a huge section of the park left completely unexplored, running north from the lake into canyon country--though road closures due to still-present snowpack this far into May<i> (note: even as of early July 2012, the Dunraven Pass remained closed due to snow!) </i>would prevent me from continuing much beyond the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and into the Lamar Valley and its massive herds of buffalo and packs of reintroduced wolves.<br />
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The terrain changes quite significantly on the climb up from Yellowstone Lake toward Canyon Junction, with less obvious thermal activity (aside from the Mud Volcano and Sulfur Cauldron area, that is) and more open alpine meadows along the Yellowstone River floodplain. Along the drive, I stopped several times to watch as bison frolicked and tussled.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N_hY1V5P-qY/T_rZOdMC1_I/AAAAAAAAAy8/vNrzaq3LkoY/s1600/_MG_7905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N_hY1V5P-qY/T_rZOdMC1_I/AAAAAAAAAy8/vNrzaq3LkoY/s640/_MG_7905.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bison playing</td></tr>
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Upon first glimpse of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, one would mistakenly but honestly think to have discovered the origin of the park's name: the rhyolite walls of the canyon cover a range of colors predominated by a golden yellow hue from iron compounds which millenniums of geothermal activity have transformed to their current state. The same actions of hot acidic flows also are partly responsible for the canyon itself, as over time they altered the structure of the igneous rock to make it more brittle and friable, making way for the Yellowstone River to carve down through hundreds of feet of solid rock.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V5-XpyWzXzc/T_rZQaePMXI/AAAAAAAAAzE/EBn9ECBp6uE/s1600/_MG_7969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V5-XpyWzXzc/T_rZQaePMXI/AAAAAAAAAzE/EBn9ECBp6uE/s400/_MG_7969.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lower Yellowstone Falls from Artist Point</td></tr>
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On top of that, uplift from the Yellowstone Caldera fractured and faulted the region, and ice dams on Yellowstone Lake near the end of the last ice age and their subsequent break-ups and resulting violent flash floods further sped the formation of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, which today runs for nearly 24 miles in length and descends to depths of as much as 1200 feet.<br />
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Two sets of cataracts drop through the canyon, the Upper and Lower Falls. The Lower Falls are actually the higher of the two in terms of drop, plunging nearly twice the height of Niagra Falls at 308 feet. The one-way scenic loop from Canyon Village follows the edge of the canyon and offers several vantages, with the most famous and perhaps most beautiful being Artist Point.<br />
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Artist Point is certainly a fantastically inspirational spot to simply stand and take in the awe of Nature, though be forewarned that you'll be sharing that view with plenty of other people with the same mission at hand. When the sun strikes the golden cliffs of the canyon, it's a glorious sight unlike anything I think I've seen anywhere else on earth.<br />
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After my stops along the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, I headed back across the plateau to Norris Junction for another go at the geysers and hot springs of the Norris Basin under the day's better light. By then the altitude and my several miles of hiking were taking a toll on my body, but I really wanted to get a chance to see the unique geothermal sites under blue skies and with some sun illuminating the depths of the pools.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--5fUWYJc_ng/T_rcORAdw6I/AAAAAAAAAzU/_-qJmft5MhI/s1600/_MG_6786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--5fUWYJc_ng/T_rcORAdw6I/AAAAAAAAAzU/_-qJmft5MhI/s640/_MG_6786.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the thermal pools of the Norris Geyser Basin bubbling away</td></tr>
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To properly photograph the depths of a given thermal pool requires several elements be in place. First, the air temperature needs to be warm enough so that the steam emitted by the pool or spring evaporates away rather than hanging in a dense cloak over the surface of the water. Second, the sun needs to be high in the sky, so that its rays can dip straight down into the pool rather than glancing off its surface--and the skies should be fairly clear and blue, to minimize the reflection of clouds across the water. Third, the wind needs to cooperate, blowing what steam there is away from where the photographer is set up. Fourth and finally, a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0000BZLAC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0000BZLAC" target="_blank">circular polarizer</a> can help and should be considered essential gear for any Yellowstone photographer; much like polarized sunglasses, a circular polarizer when rotated for best effect will block out glancing reflections along the surface of the water, allowing the camera to fully see into the depths of the pool. Though these conditions were not all perfect during my afternoon return visit to the Norris basin, I did come away with several images I know I will enjoy for years to come.<br />
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I was a bit surprised that the back basin loop wasn't more crowded on a pleasantly-sunny Saturday afternoon, and I got a kick out of a couple of people stopping me to ask if I was a "professional." Given the proliferation of quality DSLR cameras and more and more people realizing that the higher-quality the lens the better the chance to take quality images, I saw many hikers out with thousand-dollar Canon "L" lenses like mine--maybe something about my poise and the big carbon fiber tripod I lugged around stood apart?<br />
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After a return to Norris, I headed for one of the few remaining highlights every visitor to Yellowstone must see: the Grand Prismatic Spring, an image which is almost as iconic as that of Old Faithful erupting. From the boardwalk leading up from the Firehole River and along several large-scale thermal features, Grand Prismatic Spring isn't really that much to see: some colorful bacterial mats and runoff, a bunch of steam, and hints of the blues and greens at its heart. To get the big picture, so to speak, requires either overflight (an expensive and somewhat risky endeavor--a small plane crashed due to abrupt changes in lift due to all the thermal currents in the air while passing over the Grand Prismatic Spring several years ago), or else a hike off-trail up one of the two ridges overlooking the spring. I must confess, though, that I did not have the energy to undertake another couple of miles of hiking on this trip--well, I did want to save <i>something</i> to experience with Beth when the two of us make a shared visit to the park some day!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TjE_OcbvtrE/T_rcPvPUGbI/AAAAAAAAAzc/pHDuL-Yisw0/s1600/_MG_7497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TjE_OcbvtrE/T_rcPvPUGbI/AAAAAAAAAzc/pHDuL-Yisw0/s640/_MG_7497.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silica-rich waters give this pool near Artist Paint Pots an opalescent sheen</td></tr>
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I wrapped up my day with dinner in West Yellowstone at an unlikely (but tasty) tapas joint, enjoying the closest thing I could expect to Spanish cuisine out in the wilds of Montana before driving onward to my waiting hotel in Bozeman for the trip home. The day had been long indeed, with my "on the clock" time exceeding 20 hours from roll-out in the pre-dawn darkness to pulling up to the Hampton Inn in Bozeman. Those who think the life of the nature photographer is glamorous or easy or that trips like this one are an enviable "vacation" for me ought to try accompanying me sometime--it's hard work! (Rewarding, though, if in a spiritual and aesthetic sense rather than a financial one.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZddXFhxZF4w/T_rcRRp2CMI/AAAAAAAAAzk/ACcXC2O5qZ8/s1600/_MG_7566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZddXFhxZF4w/T_rcRRp2CMI/AAAAAAAAAzk/ACcXC2O5qZ8/s640/_MG_7566.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biscuit Basin "sunrise"</td></tr>
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Every year, I buy an "America the Beautiful" pass, which for $85 gives me unlimited access to our national parks, monuments, and most other federally-managed public lands which charge an admission fee. The pass really proves its worth when visiting the west, where some of the most stunning parks are located and many of which charge $20 or more to enter. I certainly got my money's worth on this trip and came away with Yellowstone elevated to my top two or three favorite parks to visit (with number one alternating between <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/10/millennia-on-display-splendor-of-bryce.html" target="_blank">Bryce Canyon</a> and <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2011/02/escaping-winter-with-winter-red-rocks.html" target="_blank">Arches National Park</a>, depending on which one I've been to more recently). From the volcanic and geothermal activity--the largest concentration of geysers and other hydrothermal features on earth--to its mountains, forests, and canyons, Yellowstone was a fantastic experience I'll treasure for years to come.<br />
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Although my visit had been brief and not really long enough to enjoy every single spectacle that Yellowstone had to offer, I was exhausted and ready to head home, too--and to start planning a return trip for the wintertime to see the park in a completely different light.
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<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0970687338&ref=tf_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0881507695&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0Yellowstone National Park44.484577 -110.641248243.759558 -111.90467570000001 45.209596000000005 -109.3778207tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-63920988819700086342012-07-07T16:49:00.001-04:002012-07-09T14:13:48.432-04:00Eight Miles in the Mid-day, Mid-June Desert Heat: The Wave and Part Two of a Desert AdventureThe red rock deserts of the Colorado Plateau and the surrounding parts of the American Southwest are among my favorite places on Earth for their stark natural beauty. Prior to this June, I'd never visited them during the heat of the summer, but when I finally won a permit to visit mystical, whimsical Wave, I loaded up on warm-weather gear and hopped a plane to Page, Arizona, for a relaxing eight miles of hiking in the baking desert sun.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tIQw2HrCrgM/T_dutr9eDwI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ievgIYHKmAU/s1600/_MG_2288-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tIQw2HrCrgM/T_dutr9eDwI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ievgIYHKmAU/s640/_MG_2288-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The Wave is an area of Navajo sandstone slickrock exhibiting striking striations and ridges that resemble pulled taffy, located in northern Arizona in the Coyote Buttes North Wilderness Area. Much of the distinctive ridges in the sandstone are eolian in nature--that is, they were formed by differential deposition of wind-carried sediment during the Jurassic age up to 200 million years ago as large dunes drifted across the desert--and though not visible in the Wave itself, there are preserved dinosaur footprints within the Coyote Buttes from that same famous age.<br />
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Hiking to the Wave requires a special permit from the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), something I'd been trying fruitlessly to obtain for six months. Though said permits are not particularly expensive--$7 at the time of this writing--they are limited to 10 per day online and 10 more per day offered in-person, both via a lottery system. Demand is such that during peak seasons (spring and fall), applicants' odds of winning a permit via the online lottery are less than 10% for a given month according to the BLM.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sasff4SLH_E/T_hPEukyl6I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/igNJKvXcS_A/s1600/_MG_2422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sasff4SLH_E/T_hPEukyl6I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/igNJKvXcS_A/s400/_MG_2422.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bird's eye swirls near the Wave</td></tr>
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Let me stop for a moment and provide a little background information on the <a href="http://www.blm.gov/az/st/en/arolrsmain/paria/coyote_buttes/permits.html" target="_blank">permit process</a>, because if you're considering a trip to the Wave, you absolutely have to have a permit (unless you enjoy risking a fine and federal prosecution for trespassing!). The two paths to a permit work similarly:<br />
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First, applications can be made <a href="https://www.blm.gov/az/paria/index.cfm?usearea=CB">online three months in advance</a>, with a $5 application fee--and note that said fee does not apply toward the cost of the permit (should you win one), is not refundable, and cannot be rolled over to the following month's lottery when you inevitably fail to win a permit. Consider that $5 a gift to protect the Wave, because that's what the BLM will use the funds for. Prospective hikers select three preferred dates within the lottery month, then sit back and wait for the drawing to be held on the first of the following month (so an application made in December is for April, and the drawing will be held on January 1st). I'm not 100% sure that the days selected make a difference, but since the BLM does show how many people have applied for a given day, I suspect that selections do matter: hence, avoiding weekends and holidays will give you a better chance to win. When I checked the November drawing calendar at the time of this writing, several days had nearly 200 people trying to get one of those 10 permits, but a few days had only 30 or so (odds of 1/3 instead of 1/20).<br />
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Second, there are 10 additional permits per day available on a walk-in basis the day before a prospective hike. Applications must be made at the Grand Staircase-Escalante visitor's center in Kanab, UT, between 8:30 and 9:00 am (and keep in mind that Utah does observe daylight saving's time, unlike its neighbor Arizona). Here's the catch: winners drawn are groups of up to six people, verses individual winners, and there can be dozens of applications made on a given morning. Good luck!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0a32YU6MMr8/T_hbQ5ta9XI/AAAAAAAAAt0/oeZ3_rNHb-8/s1600/_MG_0072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0a32YU6MMr8/T_hbQ5ta9XI/AAAAAAAAAt0/oeZ3_rNHb-8/s400/_MG_0072.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the sandy "old road" near the start of the Wave hike</td></tr>
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Because of the challenges of getting a permit coupled with the expense and time involved in reaching it (the nearest major airport is in Las Vegas, several hours away; flights to tiny Page, Arizona, or to St. George, Utah, are significantly pricier), I intentionally padded my schedule with an extra day on either end of the trip: one on the way to Arizona in case of flight delays, and one after my permit's date in case inclement weather forced a rain check or a go at the walk-in lottery. <i>(Note: the BLM is doing away with the rain check system later this year, so if House Rock Valley Road is closed due to weather conditions, you'll just have to try the walk-in lottery.) </i>I made the most of the extra time with a full day of hiking in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and a visit to Antelope Canyon--though in retrospect, hiking between 16 and 20 miles the day before the Wave (<a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2012/06/yellow-rock-in-grand-staircase-part-one.html" target="_blank">including quite an adventure getting back from Yellow Rock</a>) wasn't the best idea.<br />
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A lot of people object to this difficult and frustrating permit process, and I can understand their displeasure that public land would be restricted from public access. However, not only is the wave a delicate formation which could not stand up to the kind of traffic seen at, say, Arches or Zion National Park, but it is actually a fairly compact site: even with the current limit of 20 hikers a day in place, it can feel a bit cramped and crowded at the peak light of the day. Thus I completely agree with and support the BLM's policy. Take heart: you will eventually win a permit if you persevere and are flexible with your schedule, and then you, too, can enjoy being one of the very few people to have seen the Wave in person.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VmtcUgxUdPs/T_hRi110DUI/AAAAAAAAAtc/jMhlzeB_tjA/s1600/_MG_2102_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VmtcUgxUdPs/T_hRi110DUI/AAAAAAAAAtc/jMhlzeB_tjA/s640/_MG_2102_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in the saddle again--looking down from a saddle crossed on the way to the Wave</td></tr>
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Assuming you do win a permit like I finally did--and let me say, June was not my first choice given the temperatures involved!--once you make payment, the BLM sends you the permit itself (and a little bit of wire to run through its grommet and attach to your backpack or self), a parking pass (the Wire Pass trailhead would otherwise require a $5 fee, even for America the Beautiful pass holders), several cautions on the dangers of heat in the desert, and a little brochure which lays out the path to the Wave, with both photographs of landmarks as well as GPS waypoints. Since there is no formal trail to the Wave, this brochure is absolutely essential; in the past, up to 20% of hikers failed to locate the Wave! Take the BLM's directions, a good map, a compass, and a GPS, or else follow fellow hikers to avoid getting lost in the largely-unmarked wilderness between you and the Wave.<br />
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I'm going to hop on another soapbox for a moment. The BLM recommends you carry at least a full gallon of water on the hike; to the average dayhiker, this may sound excessive, but given the best time to visit the Wave is midday, and that it's going to be hot and dry no matter what time of year you visit, I would err on the side of caution and bring as much more water as you can carry. Two full gallons (that's about 7.5 liters) would not be out of the question if you can manage to load that much up and carry it comfortably. By the end of my hike, I was rationing my water--walk a tenth of a mile, take a sip, then walk again--and would have done much better had I had another two liters or so with me at the time. It's a long hike of about three miles each way, plus any exploration done around the Wave itself. Food is something else to bring along; I had trail mix and some assorted snacks with me but still ended up absolutely famished by the end of the hike, and hunger pangs are not pleasant piled on top of thirst and the heat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cGzn4uifm9A/T_hqPJBnTOI/AAAAAAAAAuA/dqciDhbfye8/s1600/_MG_2132_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cGzn4uifm9A/T_hqPJBnTOI/AAAAAAAAAuA/dqciDhbfye8/s640/_MG_2132_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I realized after my hike that this slickrock slope is the same one seen in the cover photo for <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/089997452X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=089997452X&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Hiking from Here to WOW: Utah Canyon Country</a>, </i>a useful guide for many great hikes on the Colorado Plateau</td></tr>
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And yes, it is hot in June in the Utah and Arizona desert! My first choice would have been to do the Wave hike in early March, but as I mentioned before, I'd been trying for a permit for over six months before finally winning one for June. With air temperatures over 100, direct sun falling overhead, and hot sandstone baking underfoot, that means dressing appropriately: I wore a lightweight convertible trail shirt--sleeves down on the hike out to protect me from the sun, then rolled up for the hot hike back--and cotton convertible hiking pants (same operational orders as the shirt), both light-colored to reflect the sun. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B003P8QPE4/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B003P8QPE4&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">A hat is a must</a>, preferably one which combines breathable, wicking fabric with a wide brim and ear and neck flaps to give added protection from the sun. Sunscreen is another necessity, as are a good pair of sunglasses; for much of the hike, even if you're not being bombarded from above (and if you go in midday, you will be), the sun reflects off the rock and sand to burn you from below. Finally, I suggest an <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002HRFIHY/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B002HRFIHY" target="_blank">evaporative cooling neck wrap</a> (or two!) to help keep your body just a degree or two cooler in the brutal desert sun.<br />
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The hike begins at the Wire Pass trailhead, located some 8.5 miles south of US 89 from a turnoff near mile marker 26 in Utah. This can be an easy turn to miss, particularly if coming from Page to the east, as it's located just past a sharp turn in the highway. House Rock Valley Road is typically fairly rough, frequently washboarded, and possibly rutted out--much worse in condition than is the Cottonwood Canyon Road through the Grand Staircase--and should be driven only by high-clearance vehicles if there's been any recent rainfall. The road is the main reason hikers would need a rain check for the Wave, as it can be impassible in rare wet weather. At the Wire Pass trailhead, there are restrooms but no water available--so definitely make sure to have plenty more water in your car for your return. There's also a trail register which you must sign and in which you must record your permit number; don't forget to sign out after the hike so that rangers don't have to go looking for you.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gCKPK5unzUQ/T_ht0ics8sI/AAAAAAAAAuM/4UDItX6aVP8/s1600/_MG_0133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gCKPK5unzUQ/T_ht0ics8sI/AAAAAAAAAuM/4UDItX6aVP8/s640/_MG_0133.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twin buttes and colorful crossbedding in the Navajo sandstone</td></tr>
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Hiking boots really aren't necessary for the trip, though the BLM recommends them to avoid a twisted ankle. Here's the deal, though: you don't want to walk around <i>inside</i> the Wave itself with hiking boots, as you could easily damage the beautiful formation you've come to see. That means either carrying a pair of sneakers with you (on top of that camera gear and the gallons of water you'll need), or else just wearing lightweight trail shoes for the whole hike and being careful. There are really only a couple of sections of slickrock slopes you'll traverse where extra ankle support comes in handy (less if you stick closely to the BLM's outlined route), and at that, high-top tennis shoes would probably be okay. My low-rise trail shoes were absolutely fine except for one stretch where I'd gotten off-course on the hike back and descended a steeper slickrock slope than necessary.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ekj3t815T_0/T_h-rh48zvI/AAAAAAAAAuw/fcTFmXGgV_M/s1600/_MG_0178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ekj3t815T_0/T_h-rh48zvI/AAAAAAAAAuw/fcTFmXGgV_M/s640/_MG_0178.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terrain below the entrance to the Wave</td></tr>
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The hike to the Wave is about three miles one-way, with portions in a deep sandy wash (ugh) and a few cross-country stretches of sandy terrain leading to slickrock for the final mile or so. Because of my late night the evening before and my aching legs after adventures in Grand Staircase-Escsalante <i>(note to self: do not hike over a dozen miles the day before attempting the Wave), </i>I skipped a dawn hike into the Wire Pass Narrows and showed up at the trailhead around 9:30 am Arizona time. The best light on the Wave itself is from mid-day through early afternoon, with parts of the main formation in shadows up until about 12:30pm during the peak of summer, so it's not unreasonable to leave the parking area as late as half past ten--though I will say that much of the slickrock traversed prior to the Wave itself would be best photographed in the early morning "golden hour" light not long past sunrise.<br />
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Fortunately though the hike is three miles across the arid terrain, there isn't a lot of up-and-down to it, with only 350 feet or so of elevation gain in crossing a couple of buttes and ascending to the entrance to the Wave; the hike itself is a good bit easier than the one to the summit of Yellow Rock, for example. Patches of sand, particularly the first stretch of Coyote Wash and the "old road" leading up from it, are the worst challenges encountered. Just follow the BLM instructions. I ended up getting a bit turned around on the final stretch of the route (between "Point 6" on the BLM's map and the entrance to the Wave) and followed the slickrock slopes to the west without descending and crossing an intermittent stream bed at its widest point--thinking that by so doing I could avoid some trekking in steep sand--but this diversion leads to a point marked "Sand Cove" on USGS maps of the area, which though photogenic in its own right is separated from the Wave by a steep canyon whose eastern side is not climbable by hikers.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_nbhC8l67rU/T_hw6-V97rI/AAAAAAAAAuc/FzZlW3AdNlU/s1600/_MG_0240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_nbhC8l67rU/T_hw6-V97rI/AAAAAAAAAuc/FzZlW3AdNlU/s400/_MG_0240.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice bit of (fleeting) shade at the Wave</td></tr>
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As I got closer to the Wave itself, the slickrock around began to show evidence of the striations which make the Wave such a special place, as well as undergoing a color shift from oranges and yellows to more reds as expected in the Navajo sandstone layer with white features blended in and showing through, giving the terrain a melted ice cream appearance.<br />
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When I first arrived at the Wave--after backtracking from Sand Cove to cross the dry stream bed and ascend to the entrance--there were perhaps six or seven other hikers present. The Wave is very popular with European hikers, having been "discovered" in a couple of German nature films and coffee-table books in the early 1990s, and indeed the majority of my fellow visitors <i>sprachen Deutsch. </i>One gentleman had hiked all the way in with a medium-format camera--truly the gear of a serious photographer given its cost and bulk.<br />
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I took a break in the shade cast by the Wave's eastern rim while waiting for some of the other hikers to disperse and give me a clear photo opportunity. Sitting there and sipping from a bottle of Gatorade, I refilled my belt pack water bottles and crushed the now-empty plastic bottles to take up less room in my pack, had a snack, removed the legs from my hiking pants (ceding sun protection for coolness), replenished my sunscreen, and read for about thirty minutes as the sun slowly climbed over the Wave and eroded away my little patch of cool shelter.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t0gFTb78O00/T_h9007pBAI/AAAAAAAAAuo/xbpJ7wFfBbc/s1600/_MG_2204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t0gFTb78O00/T_h9007pBAI/AAAAAAAAAuo/xbpJ7wFfBbc/s400/_MG_2204.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hikers enjoying the view of the Wave from above</td></tr>
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As I mentioned previously in lauding the BLM's 20-hiker-a-day limit, the Wave is a fairly compact site for all the hiking required to reach it. During the peak time to visit (midday), that can mean waiting out several other visitors before getting the site to oneself, or getting a photo composition which doesn't include another human being. Still, the vast majority of these hikers are here to admire and bask in the wonder of Nature that is the Wave--presumably the same reason you are!--and there's time to share. Enjoy the rewards of those three miles through the desert before facing just as long a trek back.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M2qPOdETKYA/T_iJBLD3yTI/AAAAAAAAAu8/LzaoaN2Ae4U/s1600/_MG_0453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M2qPOdETKYA/T_iJBLD3yTI/AAAAAAAAAu8/LzaoaN2Ae4U/s640/_MG_0453.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striations and crossbedding in the main corridor of the Wave</td></tr>
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According to my copy of <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0898868564/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0898868564&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Hiking the Southwest's Geology: Four Corners Region</a>, </i>the Wave's petrified dunes formed when they occupied a desert along the west coast of what is today North America during the Jurassic age, as prevailing winds drove vast layers of sand across the area in what would now be an east-to-west direction. Beneath hundreds of feet of accumulated sand, minerals in the water that seeped through the dunes gave the formations their striking coloration, and deformation of the still-wet dunes before they set into layers of sedimentary rock created the Wave's unique whirls and twisted striations. Plate tectonics carried this dinosaur-age desert inland, and erosion carved down through the rock to expose the ancient dunes again.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iCCnWJxTDHA/T_iVpuFehVI/AAAAAAAAAvM/pEgIP1y1-pA/s1600/_MG_0523-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iCCnWJxTDHA/T_iVpuFehVI/AAAAAAAAAvM/pEgIP1y1-pA/s640/_MG_0523-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Worn out as I was from the prior day's adventures and the three miles to the Wave, I still managed the energy to explore the immediate vicinity and take in the Wave's beauty from several different perspectives. Photographer Laurent Martres gives a good overview of several of the nearby sights in his <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0916189139/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0916189139&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Photographing the Southwest vol. 2: Arizona</a></i>, including the "north saddle" and its view of the North Teepees off in the distance and the "Second Wave," a more yellow-and-orange formation adjacent to and slightly above the main Wave.<br />
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Martres is quite right in suggesting that photographers will want to take advantage of every focal length in their pack and try out many different angles; I made extensive use of my wide-angle <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0002Y5WXE/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0002Y5WXE&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Canon 10-22mm</a> for more-traditional landscape shots encompassing the Wave and its surroundings, of course, and I really worked my walkabout <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000AZ57M6/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B000AZ57M6&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Canon 24-104mm f4L lens</a> heavily as well at both its wide and telephoto ends. If I'd not opted to leave it behind due to the extra weight, I think I'd have even found good use for my big 300mm birding lens--though for interesting closeups of geological features more than for the usual wildlife images. The only living animals I encountered aside from fellow hikers were a couple of swallows and many different lizards, the latter of which were typically quite approachable and not necessitating a long lens at all.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qkxBsohduM/T_ib_KbSKvI/AAAAAAAAAvk/4RB5kbVKb0I/s1600/_MG_0566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qkxBsohduM/T_ib_KbSKvI/AAAAAAAAAvk/4RB5kbVKb0I/s640/_MG_0566.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving the Wave</td></tr>
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Originally, I'd considered staying well into the late afternoon or perhaps sunset, but ran into the problem of water: after all that climbing and hiking around the Wave, I was down to a bit less than half the water I set out with at a hair under two liters and only then into the hottest part of the afternoon. Perhaps had I a bit less camera gear on my back and another gallon of water with me, or maybe a portable sunshade of some sort which I could rest beneath for a few hours, I'd have stuck around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EUqUSUIeCtI/T_iZYGE8JOI/AAAAAAAAAvY/b0xfshugZNI/s1600/_MG_0901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EUqUSUIeCtI/T_iZYGE8JOI/AAAAAAAAAvY/b0xfshugZNI/s640/_MG_0901.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The North Teepees seen from above the Wave. Martres describes a hike to the teepees themselves, but I was wiped out and had to save that one for another time!</td></tr>
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Deciding that I would inevitably make another visit to this magical place--one which I could share with my wife Beth, I hoped--I set off for the return to my car and the long drive back to civilization and a big, delicious beer or two along with something to eat that wasn't made from dried oats and raisins. The BLM instruction brochure actually lists a series of landmarks and waypoints for the return trip as well, and I wish I'd followed them rather than figuring I could just set my GPS to backtrack along my approach route--because as the BLM says on their "Point 9" description, traveling uphill to the west or downhill to the east from their suggested route will "only cause delays in your return." Yes, the BLM is correct indeed, as I ended up crossing the Twin Buttes on the wrong side (to the west), which presented me with a very steep slickrock descent followed by a longer-than-necessary walk through a wash filled with deep sand and only further wore me out on an already-long, hot day of hiking.<br />
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I did manage to visit one of the locations Martres describes in his book--quite by accident with the detour I took!--from which artist <a href="http://www.fatali.com/gallery/details.php?id=53&gid=6&" target="_blank">Michael Fatali captured his "The Bone Yard"</a>--but was not there in the best light of the day (I'd opt for early morning or late evening). Well, that's yet another reason to pay the Wave a return visit.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-syG8yD0KaRo/T_ie-oVUwsI/AAAAAAAAAv0/xLd-RiAZico/s1600/_MG_0115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-syG8yD0KaRo/T_ie-oVUwsI/AAAAAAAAAv0/xLd-RiAZico/s640/_MG_0115.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaping lizards!</td></tr>
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Fortunately, I was less than a mile away from the car as the crow flies, because I had really started to run low on water and had to start rationing myself to one or two sips held in my mouth at a time, rather than indulging in the long gulps I wanted to take but which would have wiped out my two remaining water bottles in short order. I worked out a system of walking a tenth of a mile, then stopping to take another couple of sips. I even managed to find a couple of small patches of shade along the route back to rest up and cool down, but wow, it was brutally, incredibly hot out in the desert that afternoon!<br />
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That last half a mile along the deep sand of Coyote Wash was some of the hardest hiking I've ever done and had my dogs barking and me completely out of water for about the last quarter of a mile or so. When I got back to the car, I checked my GPS trip odometer and found that my hike had encompassed a total of a bit more than eight miles in the desert sun. After signing out at the trail register, I sat down, cranked up the air conditioning, and proceeded to chug a liter of hot Gatorade followed by a half gallon of water, topped off my bottles, and started back up the bumpy drive along House Rock Valley Road for US 89 and eventually the town of Kanab. I'd had another adventure and seen another one of the hidden wonders of our natural world, had paid a pilgrimage to a spot every serious landscape or nature photographer must, but by then, I was really happy to be heading for civilization.<br />
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Until the next time my yen for travel and nature strikes, of course.<br />
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<iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=089997452X&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>
<iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0898868564&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>
<iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=johnnolley-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0916189139&ref=tf_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0The Wave36.9677632 -112.011290736.561801700000004 -112.6430047 37.3737247 -111.3795767tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-75211321744506072062012-07-04T10:57:00.003-04:002012-07-04T10:59:33.590-04:00Chateau Papillon Birding Update: Scarlet Tanager for Bird #62<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wW20gdoAkTU/T_RTnpNwCwI/AAAAAAAAAs0/o5bw5UFuqR0/s1600/_MG_2745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wW20gdoAkTU/T_RTnpNwCwI/AAAAAAAAAs0/o5bw5UFuqR0/s640/_MG_2745.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It's been ridiculously hot and humid so far this summer in the Washington, D.C., area, so much so that we haven't spent as much time out in the yard as we'd like. It's just no fun sitting out by the pond when the heat index is well into triple digits and the breeze, if not completely nonexistent, fails to do anything but send a few gnats and mosquitoes your way. Earlier this week, though, braving the sauna yielded a new bird for our home list: the Scarlet Tanager.<br />
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In the wake of serious <i>derecho</i> storms and their 80 mile-per-hour winds, we lost power for several days, and thus I adopted a ritual of several daily trips out to refuel and tend to our generator--all that stood between us and total collapse of civilization (okay, so I engage in a bit of hyperbole now and again). During one of those service visits and the now-uncharacteristic silence as the roar of the generator's engine died away in preparation for topping off its gasoline, I heard a birdsong new to our back yard and immediately started thinking <i>tanager</i>, whereupon I scanned the trees above until I spotted a red with rather too much orange to be the common Northern Cardinal we see all year 'round, then spied out the black wings and excitedly ran inside to grab my camera and Beth so she, too, could enjoy our 62nd backyard avian species.<br />
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In addition to the Scarlet Tanager as our most recent addition, since <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/09/chateau-papillon-bird-54-red-breasted.html" target="_blank">my last post on birding at Chateau Papillon</a> we have added several more birds--unfortunately few of which I got a photo of. Last fall, Beth and I saw a kinglet (probably a Ruby-crowned Kinglet) in the crepe myrtle between our front yard and our neighbor's yard. Earlier that same season, I spotted a male Palm Warbler in the back yard and even got a few (poor-quality) photos, and I identified by ear a Northern Parula during the same timeframe. Subsequently, this spring, I identified by ear a Blue-grey Gnatcatcher--a long-expected visitor to Chateau Papillon and one I hope to get a chance to photograph the next time it passes through. We've also at last had several Red-winged Blackbirds visit, and I know I'm forgetting at least a couple of other new species given my naturalist's speadsheet for our home currently lists 62 birds as compared to the 54 present when I listed the Red-breasted Nuthatch back in the fall of 2010--well, one of these days I'll post a full updated list (probably around the time I finish our plant census).John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0Chateau Papillon38.839371 -77.330772938.837825 -77.3332404 38.840917 -77.3283054tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-30672439358542474952012-06-29T20:22:00.001-04:002012-06-29T21:10:43.937-04:00Yellow Rock in the Grand Staircase: Part One of a Desert Hiking AdventureFor several years now, I've been making trips to the red rock deserts of the American Southwest, sometimes with my wife Beth, and sometimes on my own. During that time, I've had many hiking adventures. Eight and a half miles at 8,000 feet of elevation really put our lungs to the test in Fairyland Canyon. Hiking along the rim of the Island in the Sky at Canyonlands National Park and descending hundreds of feet into the Bryce amphitheater, I realized I had gotten over any fear of heights I'd once had. On a January visit to Delicate Arch, I may have been the last human to leave the park, inching my way across compacted ice in the twilight. But certainly one of the biggest "adventures" unfolded during my recent trip up Yellow Rock in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Tgpn6aXXDA/T-ocUkbiewI/AAAAAAAAAqs/AeZ-jFdC2bk/s1600/_MG_0056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: black;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Tgpn6aXXDA/T-ocUkbiewI/AAAAAAAAAqs/AeZ-jFdC2bk/s640/_MG_0056.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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I first learned about Yellow Rock from Laurent Martres' fantastic guide, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0916189120/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0916189120&linkCode=as2&tag=johnnolley-20" target="_blank">Photographing the Southwest</a></i>, which has been my go-to volume for both excursions planned and spontaneous in the gorgeous country of the Colorado Plateau. Martres refers to Yellow Rock with such adjectives as "simply awesome" and "an exhilarating experience," and the several photos in his book only further sell it as a great afternoon in the region. He also gives the warning that the beginning of the hike involves a steep 45-degree incline along loose, rocky terrain (remember, you'll be descending this hill in the dark) and that it is "preferable" to have a partner along, which after my adventure I can only second most enthusiastically.<br />
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Yellow Rock is located within the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, which encompasses nearly two million acres of land in southern Utah. Bill Clinton created this largest of our national monuments in 1996 to no little degree of controversy under the authority granted him by the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antiquities_Act" target="_blank">Antiquities Act</a>; the law (dating to Teddy Roosevelt's tenure at the turn of the 20th century) allows the President to set aside public land and protect it without requiring the congressional involvement needed for designating an area a national park.<br />
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Without diverging onto too much of a tangent (or getting onto too much of a soapbox), many people are surprised to learn that public land owned by the citizens of the United States as a whole can still be used by and for the profit of private industry, including such destructive activities as mining and timbering--and even can be transferred to private ownership for far below its true value under anachronistic laws originally designed to encourage the exploration and settlement of the American west. Though originally intended to protect Native American artifacts from tomb-robbers, from its passage presidents have used the power to create national monuments under the Antiquities Act to bulwark natural wonders as well. Because of the powerful financial and political interests involved in Congress, obtaining the protection of national park status can be difficult, particularly when lobbyists pressure congressmen against each and every attempt to conserve lands which the companies those lobbyists represent would like to pilfer. Teddy Roosevelt used that power to enshrine Devil's Tower in Wyoming as well as the Petrified Forest and the Grand Canyon in Arizona; subsequent Presidents have protected lands throughout the country--much to the ire of the industries which would like to make use of the resources on public land and the congressmen whose pockets they line. Many national monuments eventually do become national parks, too (once Congress accepts the fact they're not going to be able to turn the land over to mining interests!).<br />
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Beth and I had planned to visit and make the trek up to Yellow Rock back in <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/10/millennia-on-display-splendor-of-bryce.html">October of 2010 on a trip that took us to Bryce Canyon</a>, but unfortunately, we encountered rare October rains which closed off the primary access road into the Grand Staircase-Escalante. Cottonwood Canyon Road traverses the monument from north to south, connecting Scenic Byway 12 in Cannondale, Utah (near Bryce Canyon and Kodachrome Basin State Park) with US 89 between Page, Arizona, and Kanab, Utah; Beth and I unfortunately found a big "road closed due to inclement weather" barricade at its southern end that fall, and ever since then, that trip into the Grand Staircase had been nagging at the back of my mind.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jBCCPKlhJC4/T-pojPTo1ZI/AAAAAAAAArQ/esaxKxA37Y0/s1600/_MG_9719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: black; color: black;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jBCCPKlhJC4/T-pojPTo1ZI/AAAAAAAAArQ/esaxKxA37Y0/s400/_MG_9719.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the Cockscomb Fault; Cottonwood Canyon Road is visible as the slender strip in the lower-center of the photo to the left of one of the Cockscomb's ridges.</td></tr>
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Though most guidebooks I've read claim the graded clay and dirt road is generally navigable by passenger cars when the weather is good, I can say from experience that I wouldn't attempt Cottonwood Canyon Road without a four wheel drive, high-clearance vehicle; it's just too rough for cars or casual drivers--not to mention that a 4WD is absolutely essential for many of the side roads within the monument which you won't want to miss. The roads are washboarded in some places, and slick with deep sand in a few others.<br />
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Also take note: absolutely do not under any circumstances, no matter what 4x4 vehicle you drive (unless it has tank treads), attempt Cottonwood Canyon Road during or after heavy rains; the dust-atop-clay surface will become completely unnavigable, and chances are you will get stuck, have to hike out, and pay mega-bucks for a tow once the road conditions finally improve. A few other road tips: take plenty of water with you and a shovel (in case you get mired in sand or mud), as well as a tow strap in case you need or can offer assistance to others along the road.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CXNQ8WEelNg/T-pZSzt9I1I/AAAAAAAAAq4/tqaSEteEmQE/s1600/_MG_9689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: black; color: black;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CXNQ8WEelNg/T-pZSzt9I1I/AAAAAAAAAq4/tqaSEteEmQE/s640/_MG_9689.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Rock as viewed from the peak of Brigham Plain Road, just across the Cockscomb Fault.</td></tr>
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Because the other sights on my itinerary were all in northern Arizona or just across into Utah, and because I stayed in Page, Arizona, and Kanab, Utah, I chose to tackle the drive to Yellow Rock from the southern end of Cottonwood Canyon Road. It's a bit more than 14 miles from US 89 to the Lower Hackberry Canyon parking area which is used to access Yellow Rock.<br />
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Shortly before the parking area (which is on the left when traveling north on Cottonwood Canyon Road), you pass a turnoff for Brigham Plains Road (BLM 430) on the right. A short detour onto BLM 430 takes you up a series of steep switchbacks to a vantage point overlooking the Cockscomb almost directly across from Yellow Rock (<i>see photo, above</i>) along with several other geological features in the area including one of seven of "Mollie's Nipples" named in Utah. This is not a drive for the faint-hearted or those with a fear of heights; the switchbacks ascend nearly a thousand feet in a short distance, and there are few places to pull aside or turn around if you happen to encounter someone else coming the other direction. I undertook this excursion with the full knowledge that Beth wasn't with me and wouldn't have ever consented to the drive were she in the car--so when we return to visit the area together, I won't get the chance to drive it again.<br />
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One quick note about Brigham Plains Road: even though it is shown on the BLM's Grand Staircase-Escalante brochure's map, <i>do not under any circumstances attempt to drive its full length</i>. Looking at the map, you might think it could serve as a shortcut to/from the vicinity of the Wahweap Hoodoos (where it joins with BLM 431), but you would be mistaken. The gentleman from whom I rented my Jeep--himself a veteran driver who had spent his entire life in the rocky deserts of Utah--crossed-out BLM 430 on my map with the caution that he had very nearly lost his vehicle over the side when the shoulder gave way along a particularly narrow stretch. Likewise, Martres in <i>Photographing the Southwest Vol. 1</i> strongly advises drivers turn back at the apex viewpoint and that the road quickly deteriorates beyond that point--and for me, ascending the switchbacks (and then descending on the return) was quite white-knuckle enough!<br />
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Once parked at the Lower Hackberry Canyon area off of Cottonwood Canyon Road, take a few minutes to double-check your gear. Plenty of water is a must, particularly in the summer, as the hike up to Yellow Rock is quite steep in places and will tire out the average hiker quickly; likewise, I found an <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002HRFIHY/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B002HRFIHY" target="_blank">evaporative cooling neck wrap</a> quite handy. Since Yellow Rock is best in the late afternoon and at sunset, chances are you'll be descending in the twilight and darkness--so bring a working flashlight, and unlike me (more on this later), double-check that the batteries are in good shape. Bring a map, a compass, and a GPS. Wear sturdy hiking boots with good ankle support--a necessity for the descent as well as handy when clambering across the "sea of slickrock" or Yellow Rock itself. Don't forget to sign the trail register so that rangers will know to look for you if you get lost or injured on the trail. Carry a whistle in case you need to call for help.<br />
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Did I mention that flashlight?<br />
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The hike begins with a short walk down Cottonwood Wash--sandy terrain that is not exactly welcome after the strenuous hike back, but thankfully only 300-400 yards in length. Look for a side canyon leading to the west (off to the right-hand side of the wash), located approximately at 37°15.240 N 111°54.789 W if you're using a GPS. Though this side canyon may not look any less steep than the surrounding terrain--with a 45-degree ascent--it does have a relatively-stable path (marked intermittently with cairns) to the top. The terrain is very loose dirt, rock, and sand, so unless you want to continuously slide back down the hill, stick to the marked path. I wish I'd taken a few more photos of this otherwise-unremarkable side canyon, but you'll have to just take my word for it: the ascent is rough and involves no small bit of scrambling.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y-eQ-dTmJdo/T-0QmOF3VrI/AAAAAAAAAro/_qmhWlzG88g/s1600/_MG_9747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: black; color: black;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y-eQ-dTmJdo/T-0QmOF3VrI/AAAAAAAAAro/_qmhWlzG88g/s400/_MG_9747.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I climbed up this slope: looking down from near the top of the side canyon ascent to the base of Yellow Rock.</td></tr>
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Let me add that I am not at the moment in the best shape of my life, and this hike in the 90-plus degree desert sun was not exactly easy. I am well-accustomed to scrambling on loose ground when hiking as well as clambering up steep hills (I grew up in West Virginia, after all), but between living near sea level today (the Yellow Rock hike takes place at nearly 5000 feet of elevation) and quite simply being out of shape, I had to stop several times going up the side canyon to catch my breath.<br />
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After crossing the saddle atop the side canyon, there are several interesting groups of hoodoos and other rock formations visible, such as the one above which I see as a beagle or dachshund baying at the moon, and which a coworker interpreted as a turtle's head. If using a GPS, mark this point on your map for the return, and at any rate, memorize the formations next to the saddle (which look like a tall set of horns or perhaps a fork).<br />
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Crossing from the side canyon rim to the base of Yellow Rock itself isn't much of a routefinding challenge, nor a particularly difficult hike. Once at the base of Yellow Rock, though, you'll begin to appreciate the scale of the sandstone dome before you. It doesn't look <i>that</i> large from across Cottonwood Wash--just a bare patch of sandstone amidst the desert scrub--but in the barren landscape, sizes are deceptive. Martres refers to the "sea of slickrock," and his description is quite apropos, though in this particular case the seas are rather high. Waves of rock wrap around, in places cross-bedded like the scales of a snake, in others laid out like ropy, long snakes themselves.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slickrock snakes on Yellow Rock</td></tr>
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I visited near the peak of summer (about a week before the solstice), and timed my hike to arrive at the peak about two hours before sunset. Martres indicates in his text that the sea of slickrock falls into shadows "about an hour" before sunset, and I'd suggest arriving perhaps three full hours or more ahead of time to fully be able to hike and enjoy the vast expanse of sandstone around Yellow Rock. As a photographer or simply a nature enthusiast, you'll definitely find a wide variety of terrain, texture, and colors to satisfy, with only so much time to see them.<br />
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Once I finally reached the summit of Yellow Rock, I do have to say I found the entire experience somewhat anti-climatic. Yes, it's a fantastic view--but there are better in the southwest. Yes, the colors in the late-afternoon sun are stunning--but so are they at many other locations throughout the Colorado Plateau. I think had I had a bit better skies, my opinions would be different: imagine some clouds hanging over the horizon, filling up the air with the anticipation of a real gully-washer of a storm as the energy builds and the clouds stack atop themselves into one massive anvil-shaped thunderhead. I'm not saying the hike wasn't worth it--don't get me wrong--just that perhaps I had built it up in my mind as the sort of existential experience that is seeing Bryce Canyon's hoodoos for the first time, or watching the sun set at Delicate Arch, or rise over the Maroon Bells amidst aspens in their full fall-color glory. I don't think Yellow Rock is that kind of experience, though perhaps my adventure on the hike back is coloring my view somewhat jade.<br />
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At any rate, I explored the top of Yellow Rock and took plenty of photos (see the lead-in image for this post as an example of the light about 15 minutes before sunset, casting the rock a stunningly-deep orange-red near the north-western side of Yellow Rock). I read a good portion of a book, enjoyed a snack and rehydrated. Then I packed up my gear and headed back down.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ascending the slopes of Yellow Rock</td></tr>
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Remember that saddle and rock formation you crossed at the top of the steep side canyon? I hope you do, because you need to descend by the exact same route. That's where my adventure <i>really</i> began, for although I had not only taken a photo of that "fork-like" formation and marked its coordinates in my GPS, it's quite easy to get turned around atop Yellow Rock and its vast slickrock expanse. As I carefully descended the rock slopes, I sighted my objective by eye and by GPS compass bearing (<i>n.b.: make sure your GPS compass is properly calibrated!</i>) and set off out of the wilds.<br />
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Given the rolling terrain and large patches of sandy or cryptobiotic soil (the latter of which should not be walked upon, as the delicate crust is easily damaged and can take decades to recover), it wasn't as simple as just walking in a straight line toward the saddle. Several times, I'd top a small ridge to find an impassably-steep slope on the opposite side, then have to backtrack and navigate around, then take another bearing and descend, then climb the next ridge. I realized when my objective didn't get any closer that my compass wasn't functioning properly; even with the many detours I took, I should have made some progress. <br />
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Reviewing my GPS track log, I discovered that I had diverged several hundred yards to the right of my original course; after recalibrating my compass (fortunately easily done in the field!), I took stock of my situation. Here's where things got interesting. It was by then growing increasingly dark, and I had yet to start the descent back down the steep side canyon. I'd worked my way around to the wrong side of the saddle (with the proper descent off to my left on the opposite side of the tall, fork-shaped rock formation), and due to the terrain, couldn't easily get to the correct side. My navigational mistake meant I'd have to backtrack quite a bit: I couldn't just walk along the ridge to the saddle itself due to several obstacles (the tall, fork-shaped rock formation; several trees; steep slopes), and wasn't exactly thrilled at the notion of backtracking and descending to the sea of slickrock, crossing several more sandy beds, then ascending the ridge again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9aMPM1SO6iw/T-5FGw6-uLI/AAAAAAAAAsk/JVYI_j6rXCw/s1600/_MG_9791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: black; color: black;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9aMPM1SO6iw/T-5FGw6-uLI/AAAAAAAAAsk/JVYI_j6rXCw/s400/_MG_9791.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It's just over that hill!" Oh, no, it's not, unless you mean a sheer drop to the wash below...</td></tr>
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I tried several shortcuts which from where I stood looked promising but which inevitably failed to pan out--usually ending at the brink of a 200 - 300 foot descent down a 70-degree talus and scree-covered slope. In retrospect studying my topo map in detail (I had deleted my GPS track log by then in disgust--I do wish I'd kept it now, though), I ended up attempting the descent into the side canyon from its top, head-on, when I should have wrapped around it to the side slightly. This put me on much steeper ground, and with the light failing and my legs worn out from over 20 miles of hiking throughout the day, I was not in a happy place.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nFB_ytpsQ60/T-4-zB0Q7EI/AAAAAAAAAsM/jbfVwfNlf4I/s1600/_MG_9926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: black; color: black;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nFB_ytpsQ60/T-4-zB0Q7EI/AAAAAAAAAsM/jbfVwfNlf4I/s400/_MG_9926.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending along the southern slopes of Yellow Rock</td></tr>
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Now, I've done plenty of hikes in the dark before and on terrain just as challenging as that of the Yellow Rock descent. A couple of years ago, I visited Delicate Arch for sunset in January and had to inch along sheets of compacted ice and snow crusting the slickrock for a 600-foot descent without crampons or ice spikes of any sort on my hiking boots (<i>n.b. slide-on traction spikes are a worthwhile investment! I couldn't have done Bryce Canyon this past January without them.</i>). I have hiked out of pitch-black woods on animal trails in the rain. But when I pulled out my flashlight and discovered its batteries were just about kaput, I was not pleased at all. I was at least several hundred yards off course and facing some incredibly treacherous footing. Martres' words of warning started glaring down at me in recrimination: "The potential is there to hurt yourself or twist an ankle, especially during the descent. It is preferable to do this hike with a partner." (I was actually rather glad not to have Beth along--worrying about my wife slipping and taking a tumble down several hundred feet of slope isn't something I needed when I had to concentrate on where to put each footstep.)<br />
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Indeed, I took a couple of spills myself during the descent when seemingly-solid footing gave way--once or twice I slid a good 15-20 feet before coming to a stop, giving myself the worst (and possibly first) skinned knees and shins since I'd been twelve years old or so. If I didn't have such strong ankles and flexible tendons and ligaments (and very good hiking boots), I suspect I'd have come away with a broken or at the very least badly-sprained ankle several times.<br />
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During one tumble, I managed to plow one of my cameras into the gritty soil, and later on that evening at my hotel when preparing my gear for the next day, I discovered a deep chip on the lens's UV filter--well, that's what the filter is there for; better to damage a $70 filter than a $1200 lens! I'd packed away one of my cameras already, but in the arid terrain, I didn't want to disassemble the other and contaminate the sensor with dust--a mistake I rued considerably when on a 50-degree slope on the descent I did decide it would be easier just to clean the sensor than risk critical damage. You try removing a heavy pack, keeping it from tumbling down into a desert canyon, and keeping your own balance in the dark... not fun.<br />
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Can I say this again? Make sure your flashlight batteries are in good shape before undertaking this hike!<br />
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On one particularly nasty side, I discovered I'd ripped the necklace I always wear. Given half the pendant on it was hand-made by someone who no longer makes jewelry, I wasn't pleased and was kicking myself for not having removed it for the tricky descent (and stowed both cameras, and re-attached the zip-off legs to my hiking pants to save my skinned knees, and ... well, it was a bit of a moment of recriminations, okay?). To this day, I cannot believe that I managed to find both parts of the pendant, in the dark, on the side of a rocky slope where I'd plowed ankle-deep into the dirt. I promptly stowed the necklace, pendants, and my wedding ring in a sealed pocket, then said the equivalent of a couple of Hail Marys to the Invisible Pink Unicorn in thanks, and amazingly found myself at long last back on the proper trail. I'd only spent the past forty minutes in the dark sliding my way down about 300 feet of vertical drop, and I was thankful to finally see a cairn along the path.<br />
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Back in Cottonwood Wash, I still had to find my car--which I'd cleverly parked in the shade of a particularly-large cottonwood tree but now, under the worthless light of my ever-dimming flashlight, I spent another twenty minutes hunting out. I'd marked my car's location on the GPS, but in the descent, my compass had gotten tweaked again, and I trudged a tenth of a mile in the wrong direction through the deep sand before realizing the error (I should have zoomed in more, and relied on the track log instead of the compass, I suppose). When I finally did get to my car, I could barely get my boots off to pour out all the accumulated sand and pebbles and other grit that had accumulated inside them; my feet had rather swelled during the day's marathon of hiking. But I was back, and I only had fourteen miles of rough dirt roads and another forty of highway ahead to reach the hotel, lick my wounds, hit the sack, and then get back up and tackle another day of hiking and photographic adventures.<br />
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And you thought nature photographers led a glamorous life, didn't you?<br />
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</span>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com1Cottonwood Canyon Rd, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, UT, USA37.2580392 -111.911012336.4492427 -113.1744398 38.0668357 -110.64758479999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-32273271841184114942011-10-12T19:23:00.000-04:002011-10-19T21:04:38.109-04:00Fall Foliage 1500 Miles from Home: Aspens in Aspen (With a Tangent on HDR imagery)There are certain places which every photographer must visit in his or her lifetime, and certainly Colorado's Maroon Bells at sunrise is high atop that list--even more so during fall foliage season. Indeed, there those who make the high alpine lake shore near Aspen an annual pilgrimage, to the point that the Maroon Bells are characterized by some as the most photographed scene in North America.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Maroon Bells about 15 minutes before dawn</td></tr>
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After a long several weeks at work with nary a moment for any interesting photography (working with the government come the end of the fiscal year always makes for busy times!), I needed a break. The red rock country of the Colorado Plateau did have its siren call in my ear, and I might have headed out to revisit my favorite place on Earth, Bryce Canyon. Yet with October here and its palette of fall colors that come but once a year, I decided to see something I had not before and booked a flight to Aspen, hoping to catch the aspens at their peak of brilliant yellow even as the Front Range of the Rockies picked up the beginnings of their wintry white cloaks.<br />
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Fall comes earlier to the high mountains of Colorado than it does to the Piedmont and coastal plane of Virginia where the majority of the trees are still largely green--according to my trusty copy of Laurent Martres' <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0916189147/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399369&creativeASIN=0916189147">Photographing the Southwest</a></i>, the peak of fall color typically arrives in the last week of September to the first few days of October--but I couldn't get away from work any earlier than the Columbus Day holiday weekend. Fall colors are notoriously fickle, too, depending on factors from the amount of summer rainfall and temperatures leading up to the fall to wind and rain once the leaves turn. <br />
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Despite predictions of a later-than-usual peak for the area, I saw plenty of completely bare patches standing along the slopes as I flew over the Front Range from Denver--alongside many still-green stands of aspens, indicating a combination of less-than-optimal summer conditions and winds which had stripped bare many of the trees which had already changed colors (I'd seen the wind forecast a day before my trip--which didn't leave me very happy). No matter: there's always something to photograph in Colorado!<br />
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I started my day in Aspen with a drive up to nearby Marble, a tiny community with only one paved road (and that recently-enough done that Tabitha, my GPS, kept trying to steer me off onto alternate routes). A lot of the names of Colorado's towns reflect the state's mining history--Telluride, Agate, Leadville, Gypsum, to name a few--and Marble follows that tradition well as it is named for its marble quarry, from which material used in D.C.'s Lincoln Memorial came. At the far end of town, CR3 turns into a dirt road with a warning sign that there is no winter maintenance and that only 4x4 vehicles are permitted beyond that point: good thing I rented one (and no, please don't tell the rental company, who I know forbids offroading). This is the beginning of the road to the Crystal Mill, one of Colorado's many treasures and a perfect late afternoon photo shoot location.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lizard Lake, approximately halfway between Marble and the Crystal Mill</td></tr>
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Martres describes the 5.5 mile trip from Marble to the Crystal Mill as a rough but "non-technical" drive--but then, he's comparing it to some of the really challenging routes in the desert southwest. Although I have some experience with offroading--having driven Jeep trails in the Anza-Borrego Desert among other routes--and have owned a SUV for years, I have to say that the average Joe won't want to tackle the drive to Crystal Mill and should hire a driver and vehicle in Marble. Most of CR3 beyond Marble is incredibly rocky and demands a high-clearance vehicle with large, tough tires and deep wheel wells, and the vast majority of the route is a single lane which often includes a steep drop-off to the Crystal River far below. I put my Chevy Tahoe into first gear and full-time four wheel drive and still felt the 45-minute drive worthy of the white knuckles I sure had. There are stretches where it's tough to see far ahead as you top over a rise, and you dare not come to a full stop for fear of sliding on the loose rocks that continually make the ride a jouncing rollercoaster experience. You will meet other vehicles, and chances are one or the other of you may even need to back up to find a place wide enough for the other to get by.<br />
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The Crystal Mill is worth the drive (or ride, if you're not up to wrangling your own SUV there). Dating to 1892, the structure stands on a promontory overlooking the Crystal River and is surrounded by aspens which at their fall color peak are gorgeous to behold. I've seen a few beautiful old mills in the Appalachians, to be sure, but those don't have quite the dramatic background of snow-capped Rockies as does the Crystal Mill. The mill actually was a power station which provided compressed air for silver mining activities in the surrounding area.<br />
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My only complaint was that I managed to get only thirty seconds or so of sun on the mill; the skies had gone to a solid, dreary white during the drive up from Aspen and offered only the occasional gap of blue through the dense cloud cover. That made my work as a photographer significantly more challenging; nothing makes an image more lackluster than the low contrast of grey, boring skies. So I set up for a HDR (high dynamic range) shot, taking several bracketed exposures which I intended later to combine in Photoshop into one image which rendered the full detail of the scene and which would allow me to expose for all the rich color of the mill itself while still getting some density to the sky.<br />
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Techie side note: HDR can work well for images with significant difference between the bright (or highlight) and dark (or shadow) areas; camera sensors only capture a few "stops" (with each stop representing twice the brightness or darkness of the adjacent one) of light from highlight to shadow--typically anywhere from 5 to 10 stops--whereas the human eye sees a range of up to 15 stops. Couple that with the fact that our eyes and brains constantly adjust to whatever we're focused on in a very dynamic process which effectively allows us to take in an even broader range of light and dark in a way a single, static image cannot, and you see the problem which HDR is designed to address.<br />
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Above, I took three separate exposures, each one full stop in difference than the next. Given I'd set my exposure compensation to underexpose the shot by a third of a stop (to try to avoid losing the highlights on the water or in the skies), that gave me photos at -1 1/3, -1/3, and +2/3 exposure across a range of two full stops (and thus expand my camera's dynamic range by an extra two stops as well). I won't bore you with the details of how I processed the HDR image itself as there are many more in-depth explanations available via Google.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the skies I had to work with? Clouds are good, but images need open patches of sky, too!</td></tr>
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The drive back out was just as rough as the drive in had been, with the sole benefit of not meeting any oncoming traffic. I stayed in Glenwood Springs, a community right off of Interstate 70 and about an hour to an hour and a half's drive northwest of Aspen proper--where I could get a hotel room for under $100 a night instead of paying through the nose with Aspen's high-end boutique rates. Still being one eastern time made an early bedtime more effective (a good thing as the drive to the Maroon Bells plus needing to be there well before dawn meant a <i>very</i> early morning).<br />
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Even though CO82 has a HOV lane (M-F starting at 6:00am) as you near Aspen, traffic was pretty light on my drive down to the White River National Forest and the Maroon Bells. I figured even with the fall foliage a bit past its peak, a holiday weekend in autumn would find the place packed for the sunrise, yet as I pulled into the Maroon Lake parking lot at approximately 5:50am, there was only one other vehicle present. Yes, it was <i>bitterly</i> cold: I'd used the Aspen forecast in determining clothes to bring, not thinking that the Maroon Bells were 2000 feet higher up in elevation than the town, and even layered, 18 degrees is darn chilly! (Side note: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002KW3I46/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399369&creativeASIN=B002KW3I46">arm warmers</a>, designed for cyclists, are a great invention.)<br />
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Sunrise may not have been until around 7:15am--and it was completely dark when I arrived--but the skies began lightening not long after 6:00am, so I headed out into the elements and up to the lake shore to set up my tripod and await the magical experience of a Maroon Bells dawn. (See the photo leading off this blog entry for the scenery I contemplated, my fingers and toes freezing, for about an hour before the sun's first rays struck the peaks.)<br />
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On a perfect morning, there will be a few clouds in the sky and absolutely no wind--the slightest breeze will set ripples across the lake and spoil that stunning reflection. I must say, the morning of October 10 was very nearly perfect! This really helped make up for the fact that the aspens nearest the lake shore in the shot's foreground had completely shed their leaves.<br />
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A graduated neutral density filter will work wonders here, as the first rays of the sun on the Maroon Bells (particularly with any snowfall on the peaks) will create significantly more contrast across the scene than any camera sensor or film can capture. I went with a 3-stop filter (meaning the lightest areas of the filter let through around eight times as much light as the darkest), and even stacked a second 2-stop graduated filter in front of it for a few shots. As with the pre-dawn shots I took and the Crystal Mill, bracketed exposures with an HDR image in mind aren't a bad idea, either. Do note that the first golden rays will strike the peaks about 10 minutes after "scheduled" sunrise (according to the time in my GPS' almanac).<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yk-4BGNQU9k/Tp9hYH9Z2SI/AAAAAAAAAm0/rUahGC7H3TE/s1600/_MG_6819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yk-4BGNQU9k/Tp9hYH9Z2SI/AAAAAAAAAm0/rUahGC7H3TE/s400/_MG_6819.jpg" width="266" /></a>After the best moments of sunrise, it's at least an hour and a half to two hours before the sun will have crept high enough over the peaks behind and to the photographer's left to evenly illuminate the trees surrounding the lake. I spent about half that time in my car, warming back up from the bitter cold (and cursing having only brought thin cycling gloves) while I transferred photos to my laptop, then set out along the the Crater Lake trail, which climbs above the far shore of Maroon Lake.<br />
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The trail to Crater Lake offers some great views of aspen thickets, showing off the skeletal, white trunks, and at the right time of year their brilliant yellow fall foliage. It's not a particularly rough or difficult trail, and at under two miles one-way from the parking area isn't an all-day affair, either. Nonetheless, even though I knew I wasn't in the same shape I had been last fall when Beth and I tackled the brutal Fairyland Canyon hike at Bryce (alongside about 20 miles of trails in and about Zion), I had to stop and catch my breath repeatedly on the ascent. I kept giving myself a hard time--after all, I'd done Delicate Arch earlier this year on a solid sheet of ice--until I consulted the altimeter on my hand-held GPS (<i>Tabbycita, </i>she's named, for her big sister in my car): the hike rises over 1000 feet in the first mile to mile and a quarter, and a large portion of the hike is over 10,000 feet above sea level! My blood is simply too thin for that sort of exertion that early in the morning.<br />
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There is a fantastic view well worth the hike not quite a mile into the route, looking back down at Maroon Lake from one of the few clearings in the aspens. If you ever attempt this trail and feel like turning back, make sure to force yourself onward until you do make that viewpoint.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on Maroon Lake</td></tr>
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Stop and spend a few minutes catching your breath, because from there the terrain crossed several shaded switchbacks which anytime outside the middle of summer are likely to be packed with a layer of ice. Crampons would be a good idea in the backpack of a hiker following the Boy Scout motto, and I honestly felt the going more difficult and slick than Delicate Arch had been back in January.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crater Lake</td></tr>
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Crater Lake itself is a so-so sight in my opinion given the rigors of the hike to reach it, but it does offer a much closer look at the Maroon Bells than the classic shots down along the shores of Maroon Lake. Would-be mountaineers are advised by signs not to attempt climbing the "deadly Bells" without proper preparation and experience, citing dozens of deaths by even otherwise-experienced climbers annually.<br />
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The good thing about the hike back down--besides the fact that it's downhill almost the entire way!--is that you can encourage (or have a chuckle at) all the mid-morning hikers huffing and puffing their way up the path who stop to ask you if it's "much farther" or worth the hike.<br />
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By the time I got back to the shores of Maroon Lake at nearly noon, the sun had indeed illuminated the entire basin around the lake. Unfortunately, between several mallards and a bit of a breeze spoiling any reflections, the pre-dawn clouds having moved on and left behind totally-blue skies, and several dozen tourists posing for quick shots against the majestic backdrop, there wasn't any real chance of capturing a good image, so I set off to Aspen in search of a bite to eat.<br />
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Aspen can be very crowded, particularly during ski season as well as the peak of summer and fall foliage, but I found it surprisingly laid-back for a holiday and even found free-for-the-day parking near the city's pedestrian core. Almost all of the restaurants along the core do seem to be dinner-only establishments, but I found a real gem in the <a href="http://www.redonionaspen.com/">Red Onion</a>, which purports to be the town's oldest restaurant and bar and which dates like the Crystal Mill to 1892 and the area's silver boom. I enjoyed a pint of local pale ale and one of the best seared ahi tuna salads I've eaten, with the tuna cooked absolutely perfectly (raw inside with a thin layer seared but not blackened) and just the right amount of lemon vinaigrette (most restaurants go way overboard with dressing!).<br />
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As I know Beth would never willingly ride out the route to the Crystal Mill and not sure I'd have such an appropriate 4x4 rental the next time in the area anyway, I decided I'd better tackle the punishing drive again while the skies were sunny and take a mulligan on the prior day's overcast grey blanket, rather than spending any time in the many quaint shops of downtown Aspen (with signs proclaiming such encouraging notes as: "Be prepared to spend money!").<br />
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The drive out to the Crystal Mill was no less punishing than it had been the prior day--at the end of it, I actually had to crank the Tahoe's full-sized spare back up as it had worked itself nearly loose from beneath the car during the trip--but I did get some fantastic color and light on the mill as my reward. I also met a young artist hard at work capturing the scene in a painting--certainly the scene is one well-suited to artistic inspiration. Even with the superior light of my repeat visit, I actually liked the HDR image I made the day before better, though.<br />
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I had planned to hit the Maroon Bells for a second morning before flying home on Tuesday, putting to work what I'd learned on my first day there, but when I headed out of the Hampton Inn in Glenwood Springs at a quarter to five, it was raining, and the forecast for the Aspen area was hardly any different. As I drove down CO82, I did watch the skies closely for any sign of the clouds breaking up--remember, <i>some</i> clouds are a good thing in photographs--but with a repeat of Sunday afternoon's gloomy skies and cloud cover which would stop the pink alpenglow and sunrise's magic cold, I decided to put my frequent flier status on United to work and catch earlier flights home.<br />
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Will I make the Maroon Bells an annual pilgrimage as do so many other nature photographers? Well, it was indeed spectacular and something I'd see again, though there are so many other destinations and sights calling... Well, next time Beth needs to come along, so perhaps in a year or two, I'll find the shores of Maroon Lake in my travels again.<br />
<br />John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0Aspen, CO39.1910983 -106.817538739.1418718 -106.8965027 39.2403248 -106.7385747tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-85367571863102188312011-09-21T21:31:00.000-04:002011-10-02T20:05:56.217-04:00Keeping the Old Forester Going: DIY Belt ReplacementEarlier this year, I started doing a lot of the maintenance on my car myself--more out of a sense of, "if you want it done right, you've got to do it yourself," than necessarily to save a few dollars, though the latter is nice, too, given the typical mechanic charges more than double what I make per hour. One of the first tasks I tackled was <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2011/01/magical-effects-of-power-steering-flush.html">flushing the power steering system</a>, which solved a multitude of problems--but eight months later the steering started acting up again, this time with an audible squeak I hoped was only the pump drive belt and not the pump itself going bad.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drive belt cover removed to show the power steering<br />
& alternator belt (left) and air conditioner belt (right)</td></tr>
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I've got nearly 90,000 miles on my 2004 Forester XT, and though I've been pretty good with the upkeep, it's nonetheless eight years old. The steering system had really started to squeak when I first started the car, and the steering wheel had started vibrating again along with the car idling a bit rough at times like it had before I flushed the fluid (don't get me started on how Jiffy Lube had put the wrong fluid in--yeah, I know Dexron III is labeled as <i>transmission</i> fluid and not <i>steering</i> fluid, but that's what Subaru designed the car to take and that's what should be used!). Replacing the pump would set me back around $150-$400 in parts, depending on whether I went with the OEM or an aftermarket pump, so I figured I'd first try replacing the belt and flushing the fluid again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't believe drive belts are supposed to look quite like this...</td></tr>
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The existing drive belt <i>definitely</i> needed to be replaced: as you can see in the photo above, it had split along the length of the belt into three sections, and was starting to fray along one of the strands as well. I'm actually a bit surprised my battery held a charge, given the same belt drives the alternator and obviously wasn't working very well, as it was slipping and squeaking a good bit. The fact the belt is hidden away beneath a cover is no reason I shouldn't have caught this sooner (nor an excuse Jiffy Lube shouldn't have noticed it during one of their services).<br />
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Getting the right replacement belt was harder than the replacement itself. My understanding from much consultation with the Internet tubes is that the generic aftermarket belts from auto parts stores don't quite fit right compared to the OEM ones, and unlike most parts debates across Subaru forums, almost everyone agrees on that point. I drive right past a Subaru dealership on the way to work, so figured I'd stop in and that their service department would have something like that in stock, but alas, they "were at the warehouse," already closed for the day--and come Monday, the same tech greeted me with the same line he'd given me a few days before: "Oh, I've got some bad news on those belts... they're at the warehouse." Yep, closed for the day again, too.<br />
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The delay pushed back the repair until after I got back from a trip to Vegas with my sister (that's a long story involving a skinny ginger git from Harry Potter and worthy of its own blog post). Facing a commute to the office with a seriously-deteriorated belt, I decided to tackle the job before going into work.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Under the hood with the belt cover still in place</td></tr>
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For the 2004 Forester XT, the accessory drive belts are located beneath a plastic safety cover (pictured above, foreground). This comes off with the removal of two bolts--have a ratchet with metric sizes on hand, and you'll have no problems getting it off and out of the way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O7YTXv4yHag/Toj4Lm35ZaI/AAAAAAAAAmA/Fdz97RW-7Lk/s1600/Bolts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O7YTXv4yHag/Toj4Lm35ZaI/AAAAAAAAAmA/Fdz97RW-7Lk/s640/Bolts.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bolts which need to be loosened to remove the power steering & alternator drive belt (red circles)</td></tr>
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Even split and as worn as my belt was, it had plenty of tension and wasn't about to slip right off. I could have cut it--the existing belt wasn't exactly in great shape anyway--but given the new belt installation requires getting things loosened up, there's no avoiding releasing the belt tension. There are three bolts for the power steering and alternator drive belt (which are mirrored for the air conditioner compressor drive belt); I've circled them in red in the photo above. The two leftmost bolts are called out in the service manual and serve to tension the belts--to adjust, first loosen the bottom bolt a few turns, as it locks the entire assembly in place, then turn the top bolt to move the alternator up or down and thus increase or decrease the belt tension accordingly.<br />
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Before you get too far and wonder why the belt doesn't seem to be getting any looser, here's something my service manual neglected to include: notice the third bolt (center right, above)? You have to loosen it as well so that the alternator can pivot as you adjust the long bolt on the left; a half turn or two is all it should take. I had to really lower the alternator to be able to get the old belt out and the new one in, running that long bolt nearly all the way out.<br />
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While you've got the power steering and alternator belt out of the way, you should go ahead and replace the air conditioner belt, too, as belts tend to show similar wear, and you can't get to the a/c belt without first removing the power steering one. The tensioner is similar to the one for the power steering and is located just to the left of the air conditioner compressor (the thing with the big pulley on the right of the image above).<br />
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Once the new belts are in place, just reverse the process you used to loosen the components and relieve the belt tension in the first place. The belts should be tightened until they displace about a quarter of an inch under firm pressure, something you can measure by putting a straightedge between the pulleys and then pushing the belt down with one finger while measuring the distance it moves down with a small ruler (easier said than done). Don't forget to tighten the bolt which allowed the alternator and compressor to pivot down.<br />
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I did the change-out in about 10 minutes before going to work one morning, so it should be easy for anyone to accomplish. No special tools are required--just a socket wrench--and the parts aren't particularly expensive (both belts together set me back around $25 from a local Subaru dealership). Replacing the belts eliminated my car's squeak, smoothed out the steering system, and should be good for another 90,000 miles or so.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com10Chateau Papillon38.839371 -77.330772938.837825 -77.3332404 38.840917 -77.3283054tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-15695282590515379672011-06-06T21:20:00.101-04:002011-06-07T22:47:33.539-04:00Birthday Browsing in BarcelonaNormally, my birthdays are spent at home, with a cake fresh out of the oven and perhaps some steaks hot off the grill, but this year--turning 29 for the 8th time--I got to enjoy the annual celebration whilst abroad.<br />
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Beth and I had had a couple of days to <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2011/05/getting-our-bearings-in-barcelona.html">get our bearings in Barcelona</a>, with Beth dusting off her Spanish and me trying to absorb some of the local Catalan. We'd walked <i>La Rambla</i>, enjoyed each afternoon and evening sitting out on a patio or courtyard somewhere with a glass of <i>cava, </i>a mug of <i>cervesa, </i>and a fair bit of <i>vina blanca</i>. We'd learned the shortcut to the Metro from our hotel and could navigate the mass transit system like locals (well, almost). But like so much else of our trip, I'd decided just to play my birthday by ear, with only a rough idea as to what I wanted to do.<br />
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After a nice continental breakfast at the hotel, we set out for a bit of shopping. Beth wanted to track down some Mothers' Day gifts, and I'd seen a photo of a hat shop in one of the many travel guides we consulted prior to the trip which gave me an idea of how to answer Beth's question: "What do you want for your birthday?" Yes, <a href="http://barcelona.salir.com/sombrereria_obach">Sombrereria Obach</a> is something of a tourist staple, but it's also quaint enough that I just had to stop in and see what new headwear I could find. I ended up with a floppy cotton hat which I can roll up and stick in my pocket and which is a bit smaller than the fedora I often travel in. Prices at the shop reflected its location just off the big tourist drag (at €55, it's one of the more expensive hats I own), but hey, it was my birthday after all!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-04EO4TBqOKM/Te7P8cNS2RI/AAAAAAAAAk8/T62uQ_a_vJs/s1600/_MG_2384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-04EO4TBqOKM/Te7P8cNS2RI/AAAAAAAAAk8/T62uQ_a_vJs/s400/_MG_2384.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth shows off her scarf from Barcelona</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After a bit more shopping with stops at a scarf shop--where I exchanged the gift favor and got Beth the fashion accessory that seems a necessity amongst Barcelona natives, namely, a frilly scarf--we hopped a train to nearby Montserrat... a topic for a later blog; all I'll say for now is that Mussolini would be proud of the punctuality of the Spanish train system.<br />
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Thanks to Barcelona's latitude--somewhere between NYC and Boston despite having a much more Mediterranean climate--even in early May sunset didn't come until 8:30pm or later, leaving us plenty of time to head out on the town for a birthday dinner after getting back from Montserrat. (Side note: On the train ride back, we shared seats for part of the trip with a woman traveling with her cat in her lap; I cannot believe how calm and laid-back the kitty was on public transportation!) Beth had been after me to pick a good place to eat, and I spent most the train ride flipping back and forth through the Barcelona city guides we had on hand to try to narrow down our selection.<br />
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Let me stop for a moment and point out that Barcelona is considered one of the world's top gastronomic destinations, with the broader metropolitan region claiming what is rated by many critics to be the planet's number-one eatery (ahead of Keller's "French Laundry" and "Per Se" in the US and several Paris restaurants) in <i>El Bulli</i>. Unfortunately, with Chef Ferran Adrià deciding to close this July, reservations are completely unavailable at <i>El Bulli</i>--but fear not; there are still plenty of fantastic places to grab a bite in <i>Cataluyna</i>.<br />
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I ended up picking a little hole-in-the-wall called "<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187497-d1008277-Reviews-Bar_Seco-Barcelona_Catalonia.html">Bar Seco</a>" on the hillside of the <i>El Poble Sec</i> neighborhood leading up Montjuïc based on a description in one of our travel guides--as I wanted something not too loud, not too crowded, not requiring reservations (as it was already after 6:00pm!), and which offered a genuine, local experience. It's not too far from the nearest Metro (<i>Paral-Lel</i> on the L2 and L3 lines), though I will say the neighborhood was certainly more residential than some of the more urban environs we'd spent the past couple of days getting to know. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cLqbT5hK_vQ/Te7aj1lnZII/AAAAAAAAAlE/L6xPJMqnP2E/s1600/_MG_1455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cLqbT5hK_vQ/Te7aj1lnZII/AAAAAAAAAlE/L6xPJMqnP2E/s640/_MG_1455.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bar Seco, street view</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://barseco.blogspot.com/">Bar Seco</a> became one of the highlights of our trip! The self-described <i>alimentació </i>(which Google helpfully translates as meaning "feeding" in Catalan) is indeed something of a hole-in-the-wall, with a small set of bar seating supplemented by perhaps four tables for two and in-season about the same amount of terrace tables outside. The proprietors are proponents of the "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slow_Food">slow food</a>" movement, which is a sort of antithesis of our American notion of McDonald's-style fast food joints: slow food emphasizes local ingredients and flavors. Bar Seco does that throughout their menu and their (non-dry) bar selections.<br />
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For a change from all the <i>Cava</i> and other <i>vina </i>we'd enjoyed on our trip so far, Beth and I opted for local<i> cervezas</i> (beer), with the unappetizingly-named "<a href="http://www.llupolsillevats.com/esp07/">Glops</a>"--an unfiltered dark ale--as our favorite winning out over a Montserrat brewski. We went with the recommendation of our server on our choice of <i>tapas</i>, with some absolutely fantastic <i>patatas bravas</i> (I apologize for not recalling the local distinction of same--other than that they were the best we had the entire trip) and vegetarian-friendly sandwich fare for Beth (a <i>bocadillo </i>made with local cheese and fruit, along with the best veggie-burger I've ever eaten).<br />
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Though not a full dinner spread, we nonetheless filled our bellies. For the first year in many, I didn't have a cake fresh from a box (some traditions win out over the fully made-from-scratch cooking that generally goes on at Chateau Papillon), and given our scheduled early morning departure to <i>AndalucÃa, </i>we didn't try to catch a spot of gelato on our way back to the hotel. Nonetheless, it had been quite a good birthday indeed.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-74613632750148889452011-06-04T13:35:00.000-04:002011-06-04T13:35:09.784-04:00Weekend DIY at Chateau Papillon: Toilet ReplacementChannel-lock pliers. Bolt cutters. Hacksaw. Brake cleaner. WD-40. 9/16 box end wrench. Chisel. Screwdriver. Socket wrench. Hammer. Putty knife. These are some of the tools needed to remove the old toilet in my bathroom at Chateau Papillon, thanks to the heavily-rusted flange bolts holding it to the floor. After all that, I wonder if a sledgehammer might not have done the job of all of them together and with more satisfying fun to boot.<br />
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Replacing a toilet isn't really that hard of a job--I've tackled far more challenging DIY projects at Chateau Papillon in the past. Still, like so many home improvement jobs, it ended up taking a lot longer than I'd expected; I had figured on about an hour total to remove the old toilet and install the new one, and it took closer to three.<br />
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Why the new toilet? It was an "impulse buy" at Costco, I have to admit. Beth and I had gone specifically to check out a laundry sink--something I spied at a Costco in Richmond last summer but which until now our local one had never had in stock--and right next to the sink were several high-efficiency, dual-flush toilets for under $90. That's a pretty good buy; I'd looked at similar units at Lowe's and Home Depot before, typically for upwards of $150 with several brand-name models over $280. Couple with that the fact we'd just gotten back from Spain, where like so much of Europe the toilets are similar to the one in the store, and we were sold.<br />
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Not to mention that my bathroom's old toilet was wearing out--I'd had to replace several parts on it over the past couple of years. Nor that it was a water-hog, slurping down around 5 gallons per flush. I don't think it dated back to the original home construction (mid-'60s), but the toilet wasn't <i>much</i> newer than that, either.<br />
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First, the old toilet (pictured above) had to come out. Turn off the water, flush, pour a bucket of hot water through to empty the bowl, and remove. You'd think that wasn't going to be a very difficult task, but you'd be wrong. Two flange bolts hold the toilet to the floor, and the problem with older toilets is that the nuts on those bolts are typically rusted solidly in place. Worse, the flange bolts heads simply fit into a slot on the flange beneath the toilet, so there's very little leverage to be had: the entire bolts will just spin in place. Enter the list of tools and materials leading off this post...<br />
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I tried penetrating oil, WD40, and even brake cleaner (which consists mostly of very light, very volatile hydrocarbon solvents), and though I did thus manage to dislodge quite a bit of rust, that was it. I had the most success gripping the tops of the bolts with some really big channel-lock pilers and using a box-end wrench to twist the nut in the opposite direction--though this really crushed the threads on the ends of the bolts. Unfortunately, one bolt was so rusted that the end simply snapped off when torqued--and of course it wasn't the end between the toilet and the floor that broke.<br />
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Next came a chisel; I figured if the bolts were that fragile, I might be able to snap them off beneath the nuts. This meant some rather awkward hammering, as I didn't want to slip and shatter the toilet itself into a million tiny fragments of porcelain. That didn't get me very far, and next up was a hacksaw. The problem there was that my toilet was crammed back into a nook, giving me all of a couple of inches of space and a completely useless angle to use the saw. I gave up on the saw, but perseverance paid off in the end when I managed to get a pair of bolt cutters onto one of the two. This gave me enough leverage to twist the entire toilet free without further work on the second bolt, as I was able to rotate the toilet around the flange enough that the bolt head aligned with the slot used to originally install it (sort of like the wide part of an old-fashioned keyhole).<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A wax gasket serves to seal the bottom of the toilet to the floor flange and sewer pipe, preventing leaks. The old gasket has to go so that the new one will seal properly. I discovered in removing the sticky, gunky old mess that whoever had installed the current toilet hadn't taken out the original gasket--there were two, nested sets of rubber seals and wax gaskets! (You can see one of those in the photo to the left.) A putty knife, several pairs of gloves, and some rags took care of that phase of prep, all the while with a rag stuffed into the pipe to prevent icky sewer gas from filling the room while I worked.</div><div><br />
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Notice, too, that the old toilet tank had leaned right against the wall and collected a nice bit of moisture, as well as some mildew where the original wallboard had apparently never been painted at all. Taking care of that required a scrub brush, some bleach, and a couple of hours of drying time followed by several coats of paint--thankfully, we still had part of a gallon of the "Miami Mist" color on hand.<br />
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Everything finally prepped meant it was time at last to install the new toilet. New flange bolts into the flange: check. New rubber seal and wax gasket: check. Remove the rag in the sewer pipe: check. With Beth's help, I got the new toilet in place, gave it a little twist (to seat the wax gasket properly), and secured it to the floor. Note that I absolutely slathered the new flange bolts with WD-40, as I expect I'll need to move the toilet at least once when I get around to a total bathroom remodel in a couple of years and retile the floor and walls. Hook up the water, fill, and flush: nice. No leaks.<br />
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The dual-flush on the new toilet uses only 1 gallon of water for the "light" flush (and though it may be a bit grotesque of me to say so, I do typically follow the Southern California dicta of letting yellow mellow to save water, too) and 1.6 for the "heavy" flush. While some high-efficiency models are prone to clogs and otherwise problematic, this one seems to work like a charm so far. (We'll see if the dual-flush mechanism on top of the tank confuses anyone the next time we have guests over...)<br />
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The old toilet, thoroughly cleaned, ended up on the cub for Habitat for Humanity to pick up, bound for a new home no doubt. A little disappointing, I must say, not to take drag it out into the woods for a consultation with a shotgun, but, like the new toilet upgrade, a more environmentally-friendly choice.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-68488564421616497342011-05-12T21:48:00.321-04:002011-05-24T21:47:49.638-04:00Getting Our Bearings in Barcelona<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s-SKGGLxb4w/Tdm-GP--tTI/AAAAAAAAAkM/GxeUyNrjIlc/s1600/_MG_0904-Edit+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="435" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s-SKGGLxb4w/Tdm-GP--tTI/AAAAAAAAAkM/GxeUyNrjIlc/s640/_MG_0904-Edit+crop.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
At one end of <i>La Rambla</i>, Christopher Columbus gestures the explorer's vague but determined "thataway." At the other stands the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Plaça Catalunya.</span> In between: an opera house, art museums, street vendors, living statues, and tourists, tourists, tourists finding their way through the Catalan capital city's most famous walk.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our flight arrived shortly before noon, giving us plenty of time to head over to our hotel, get settled and cleaned up, then hit the city for our first immersion in Spanish culture (or, I should say, Catalan culture; Barcelona may be a part of Spain, but it is first and foremost a part of Cataluyna--with a separate Romance language that reads to the uninitiated like some cross between <i>le français </i>and Español, or Castillian). Though we were staying out in the <i>Forum</i> neighborhood--a mishmash of <i>modernisme</i> architecture, contemporary corporate-consumer-antichic, convention center, and overdeveloped beachfront--Barcelona's public transportation is excellent and got us to the city center in short order via a 5 minute walk and 20 minute Metro ride. And though Barcelona is deservedly described as an eminently walkable city, the 3-day Metro passes we picked up for around €12 were well-worthwhile investments. </span> (One other thing of note: Barcelona's Metro is similar to the London Underground more than to the Washington, D.C., Metro from our home in that transfer stations are apparently <i>two</i> separate stations connected by a few flights of stairs and a kilometer or so of tunnel. I'm much more used to walking 100 meters and taking an escalator to switch lines--I'm glad we took a cab from the airport instead of trying to take rail and bus!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bl_Jm7galAA/TdnET5zgGEI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/oJE6CeU16WI/s1600/_MG_0898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bl_Jm7galAA/TdnET5zgGEI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/oJE6CeU16WI/s320/_MG_0898.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Plaça Catalunya</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">, but n</span></span>ot the more humble Font de Canaletes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We began our promenade down <i>La Rambla</i> from the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Plaça Catalunya, though somehow we missed the most of the plaza itself--apparently taking the Metro exit closest to the street instead of the square. I suppose </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">over 10 hours of flying and nearly 14 of total travel is a lame if honest excuse for that oversight. That was too bad as we missed the <i>Font de Canaletes</i>, the fountain whose waters guarantee he who drinks them will return to Barcelona. For what it's worth, I don't think it takes a mystical sip from an antique fountain to ensure that we'll one day visit the city again--Barcelona is certainly one of my favorite cities from even our brief stay.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">The street itself is named for the Arabic word for "intermittent stream" or "riverbed" (<i>n.b. I'm relying on my guide books and Wikipedia here--Arabic is unfortunately not a language I know enough even to curse in</i>) after the drainage paths around the old city walls of the <i>Barri Gòtic</i>. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4T4_HuyU5m4/TdraKSboBQI/AAAAAAAAAkU/JRr9TkMcYUw/s1600/_MG_0901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4T4_HuyU5m4/TdraKSboBQI/AAAAAAAAAkU/JRr9TkMcYUw/s320/_MG_0901.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Predatoralienstatueguy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Even on a mid-week afternoon a bit ahead of the real tourist season, La Rambla is busy! Fortunately, the street is limited to pedestrian traffic--I can't imagine if </span><i style="line-height: 19px;">a la </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Bangkok the narrow thoroughfare had cars, motorcycles driven by the terminally insane, </span><i style="line-height: 19px;">tuk-tuks</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">, and the occasional lorry or two trying to plow their way through the crowd. The press of people alone is more than enough for the agoraphobic ambulator.</span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Several of our guidebooks mentioned the "living statues" performing along <i>La Rambla</i> as a point of distinction--now, perhaps I'm just culturally ignorant here, but I've certainly come across these folks elsewhere in the past, from the French Quarter in New Orleans to Chicago's Grant Park to an appearance in the countryside village of the British buddy-movie-satire <i>Hot Fuzz</i>. Said simian statuary does appreciate a coin tossed into the hat much as any public performance artists--but do watch your pockets (as you'll be far from the only blithe tourist stopping to gawk, snap a photo, and fish out some spare change). We had no problems with pickpockets and felt pretty safe in Barcelona as a whole, but I'd be remiss not to pass along a gentle public service reminder about not ending up as "that tourist" who has to call up American Express for a new set of traveler's cheques (does anyone use those anymore?) and the embassy for a new passport...</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">To be honest, we didn't stop for many of the more traditional tourist sights along </span><i style="line-height: 19px;">La Rambla; </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">several were undergoing renovations (the most familiar architectural element in Europe does seem to be scaffolding, followed closely by construction cranes), and the crowds were just stupendous along much of the route. Nonetheless, there's something for almost anyone to see, from several impressive churches (at home in any self-respecting city from old Europe) to a large outdoor market to the Gran Teatre Liceu to homes and businesses cast in Mediterranean colors with their balconies overlooking the street and its passengers (see the photo leading off this post).</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M2GyuTQmBWw/Tdw0Vo1ZteI/AAAAAAAAAkY/Vo1PjJSrxxU/s1600/_MG_0914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M2GyuTQmBWw/Tdw0Vo1ZteI/AAAAAAAAAkY/Vo1PjJSrxxU/s320/_MG_0914.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streetscape near the portside end of <i>La Rambla</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">One thing I must point out: like so many once-darling streets and squares in cities across the world, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i>La Rambla</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"> has lost a bit of its charm in recent years with the gradual incursion of high-end retail chains, coupled with the profusion of cheap, made-in-China souvenir stands--what I'm looking for in a city are quaint local shops and restaurants set alongside plazas slightly off the beaten path (of which there are plenty in Barcelona, mind you--more on that in a subsequent blog post).</span><br />
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</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g_oGZTcMkKQ/Tdw_WLYUNQI/AAAAAAAAAkk/boL4xbvNmEw/s1600/_MG_0943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g_oGZTcMkKQ/Tdw_WLYUNQI/AAAAAAAAAkk/boL4xbvNmEw/s320/_MG_0943.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Plaça Rieal</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Snacks in the hotel lounge at lunchtime weren't quite enough to keep us going as the afternoon wore on, but neither of us really wanted to grab a bite at the sort of trite, tourist-filled eateries directly along the course of <i>La Rambla</i>. From our last trip to Europe and visits to Frankfurt and northern Italy, we had our hearts set on spending several afternoons out on the patios of a smaller cafe or the like. We took in a few side streets, straying into nearby neighborhoods like <i>El Raval</i> and the <i>Barri Gòtic </i>but saving a more in-depth exploration of them for a later day of the trip.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Finally, dwindling blood sugar reserves drove us into the first likely restaurant we came to, a place named "<a href="http://www.restaurantetrobador.com/">Trobador</a>" (which location, I honestly don't recall--they've got three or four in Barcelona, with at least two along the route we walked). There we settled in for a quite tasty late lunch; I had a crispy whole-fish and Beth a pasta, along with a nice bottle of wine. The waiter told us he'd worked in Georgetown at a hotel restaurant for a couple of years and was well-familiar with our hometown of Fairfax, VA, and directed us to a nice wine shop in Barcelona where we could pick up what we'd enjoyed with our meal or anything else which caught our fancy.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLHgyf7rrdw/Tdw3PeP32dI/AAAAAAAAAkc/TF-EA4Yz89s/s1600/_MG_0934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLHgyf7rrdw/Tdw3PeP32dI/AAAAAAAAAkc/TF-EA4Yz89s/s320/_MG_0934.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Refueled, late afternoon found us at the opposite end of <i>La Rambla, </i>at the <i>Monument a Colom</i>. Christopher Columbus, the explorer famous to every American schoolchild, made Barcelona his port of call upon return from his discovery of the New World, reporting back to his financial sponsors Ferdinand and Isabella--and the city erected the monument for the the 1888 Expo to commemorate his historic achievement. (As a side note, our trip also included the spot where Columbus made one of his bids to the Spanish crown, proverbially falling to his knees within the Alhambra's walls as he wore down the royal reluctance to coughing up cash for his expedition.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Much like New York's Statue of Liberty, the Washington Monument, the Space Needle in Seattle, Paris' Eiffel Tower, and any number of other tall, vaguely-phallic monuments, tourists can pay a few dollars (or Euros, as the case is here) to ascend to the top of the edifice for a panoramic view out over the city. There's a tiny elevator--with room for the operator and perhaps two to four visitors depending on their girth (I'd err on the lower side for the typical American on holiday...)--which runs to the top, opening out onto an observation platform nearly 200 feet above the street level. Barcelona on a good day nonetheless presents a fairly hazy view.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8XtEUExj41s/Tdw78XYX36I/AAAAAAAAAkg/QfqMwvDwD0A/s1600/_MG_0994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8XtEUExj41s/Tdw78XYX36I/AAAAAAAAAkg/QfqMwvDwD0A/s320/_MG_0994.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Port Vell, or Old Port</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">There's plenty more to do at the base of <i>La Rambla</i>, between the Port Vell (Old Port) area, a large if boring mall (the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Maremà gnum, complete with tourist-standby IMAX theater and aquarium), a sprawling and fantastic Maritime Museum, and the nearby neighborhood and beach of La Barceloneta. Honestly, we'd planned to visit the <i>Museu Maritim, </i>upon the ringing endorsement of a coworker and my general enjoyment of such things (a highlight of the trip to London a few years back was the <i>Cutty Sark</i>)... but we simply ran out of time. Well, even without a sip from the </span></span>Font de Canaletes, I have little doubt we'll pay a return visit some day, particularly given the fact after the trip Beth identified Barcelona as one of her favorite cities to have experienced.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">But for us, with the setting sun, we headed back to our hotel for a well-needed night's sleep with our first taste of Barcelona sated, our tummies full of delights, our wallets somewhat lighter, and a better idea of what we planned to tackle over the next few days. </span><br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-32684791871050919442011-05-11T22:05:00.284-04:002011-05-19T21:18:56.318-04:00Notes for the Frequent Traveler, Part 1: Lounge Hopping for Our Spain Trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JpNSZGpXqVY/TdGn86MMzkI/AAAAAAAAAkE/D74HrBYd5JY/s1600/_MG_0871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JpNSZGpXqVY/TdGn86MMzkI/AAAAAAAAAkE/D74HrBYd5JY/s320/_MG_0871.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>The frequent traveler lives by airline lounges and what amenities each offers: showers after a long international flight, perhaps? Free snacks and booze? Which has the best views of the comings and goings out on the tarmac? Where is the best place to check e-mail, unwind, or catch a couple of hours of shut-eye before the next flight? Is there even a reason to trek over to the lounge instead of just sitting at the gate? No doubt the infrequent air traveler won't find much of interest in this blog post, but for those of us who love to travel, these are weighty matters indeed!<br />
<br />
Beth and I put these issues to the test during our recent trip to Spain, which involved flights from our nation's capital; Frankfurt-am-Main, Germany; Barcelona, Spain; M<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">á</span>laga, Spain; and Brussels, Belgium. So how did the lounges stack up?<br />
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<div class="heading">IAD: Lufthansa Senator Lounge</div><br />
<div class="infoBox"><strong>Pros:</strong><br />
<ul><li>Decent selection of hot foods</li>
<li>Free beer (Shock Top and Beck's) and other alcohol</li>
<li>Showers available downstairs in the Business Lounge</li>
<li>Light, airy, and modern design<br />
</li>
</ul><strong>Cons:</strong> <br />
<ul><li>Located in B Concourse</li>
<li>No free wifi (other than airport's)</li>
<li>Alcohol isn't self-service and attendants are sometimes hard to find</li>
</ul></div>First off, we paid a visit to the Lufthansa Senator Lounge at Dulles (IAD) on our day of departure, despite the fact we were flying United across the pond. A somewhat little-known yet open secret is that the IAD Lufthansa Lounge is a <a href="http://www.staralliance.com/en/benefits/frequent-flyer/gold-silver-status/">Star Alliance Gold</a> lounge, meaning that any traveler who holds gold status with a <a href="http://www.staralliance.com/en/about/airlines/">Star Alliance member airline</a> can visit it in connection with a Star Alliance flight (for a real shocker: domestic flights, too; I've had no problems visiting when flying United to St. Louis or Seattle, for example)--not just those flying Lufthansa. The lounge is over in the B Concourse, but it's almost right across from the train station, making it an easy trip from check-in at the main terminal.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LzQXqKJ4eA0/Tc61WUz6boI/AAAAAAAAAjk/FdKLBt3Tstk/s1600/_MG_0861.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LzQXqKJ4eA0/Tc61WUz6boI/AAAAAAAAAjk/FdKLBt3Tstk/s320/_MG_0861.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth enjoys a Beck's in the IAD LH Senator Lounge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Lufthansa Senator lounge is a welcome alternative to the United Red Carpet Clubs as it is <i>generally</i> far less crowded (excepting the times around the morning ANA flight to Tokyo or the later Germany flights) and offers food--and no, the RCC's selection of cheese cubes, crackers, and celery sticks does not count as food. It's also much brighter, cleaner, and more more modern. Really, the only downsides are the hours--it opens around 8:30am (the RCC opens at 6:00), the Germans uncharacteristically take a siesta around lunchtime, and the lounge closes earlier than the RCC--and the trek over to your United flight in the A, C, or D Concourse, which means leaving the lounge at least 45 minutes prior to scheduled boarding. The wifi isn't free, either, and although IAD offers airport-wide free wifi now, the signal quality inside the lounge was so poor I found it nearly worthless.<br />
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Just be sure to allow yourself plenty of time to catch the train loop back to the main terminal, A, then the train to C or shuttle to D (or to walk to the shuttle station at A or the far end of B): I'd leave the lounge no later than 45 minutes before your flight boards, earlier if flying internationally (as you'll have to do a document check at your gate).<br />
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There are showers downstairs in the Business Lounge--which Star Alliance Gold passengers should be allowed to access regardless of their class of travel, as the Senator Lounge is technically the more "prestigious" of the two. I've never had the chance to try them out, though, since Washington is my home airport and there's really no need for me to shower given I could have at home.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, due to ABC laws in Virginia, the Lufthansa lounge isn't self-serve when it comes to bier, wein, schnapps and the like--which may come as a surprise to the seasoned international traveler used to pouring their own. Attendants can be hard to find; I've noticed they will occasionally open the mirror behind the bar and glance out quickly, so you can either catch their eyes then or go over and knock at the kitchen door.<br />
<br />
Finally, over the past couple of years, the Senator Lounge's food selection has fallen off a bit in quality, and it can be more crowded than it used to be. Still, it's leagues ahead of the Red Carpet Clubs, as you'll soon see.<br />
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<div class="heading">IAD: United Red Carpet Club</div><br />
<div class="infoBox"><strong>Locations:</strong> Near gates C7, C17, and D8<br />
<strong>Pros:</strong><br />
<ul><li>Three locations</li>
<li>Free house wines, beers, and bottom-shelf liquors</li>
<li>Free wifi via T-Mobile</li>
</ul><strong>Cons:</strong> <br />
<ul><li>Dingy and outdated</li>
<li>Very crowded</li>
<li>Food options almost non-existent</li>
</ul></div>Beth and I left the Lufthansa Senator Lounge about an hour before our flight, and the train (B to Main Terminal to A to C) followed by the long walk from the station (you see, C/D Concourse is "temporary," and has been for 20+ years--and the train station is where the MWAA eventually plans the real C/D concourse to go) took us a good 15 minutes. That still gave us time to visit the United Red Carpet Club closest to our flight: the C7 location.<br />
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Anyone who's visited the IAD Red Carpet Clubs knows why the lounges play second fiddle to the LH Senator Lounge. They're all poorly-lit (located at tarmac level, e.g. in the basement) and are typically too hot and are ridiculously crowded--the past few trips to Europe, I haven't been able to find a seat anywhere in the lounge! Nor do they offer any real food: mornings mean bananas and toast (maybe), with the rest of the day offering cheese cubes straight off a 1970s party tray coupled with crackers and celery and carrot slices. At least the Red Carpet Club went to free booze about a year ago (dispensing with the often-argued "chit" system where international travelers were supposed to receive two drink coupons)... but the gratis selection is limited to a couple of cheap beers on tap, house wines, and bottom-shelf liquors. Still, the house wines are usually okay.<br />
<br />
The lounge does offer free wifi--members automatically get it, and Star Alliance Gold or international first or business passengers can request a one-time T-Mobile voucher card--and it typically works far better than the free wifi in the airport (though when the lounge is busy, performance predictably drops). You can also talk to flight agents (Beth and I did our EU-bound document check at the club, for example, instead of waiting at the counter at the gate).<br />
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<div class="heading">FRA: Lufthansa Business Lounge</div><br />
<div class="infoBox" style="float: right; margin-left: 10px;"><strong>Pros:</strong><br />
<ul><li>Good selection of free bier, wein, and other beverages of choice</li>
<li>Decent food items, including an omelet station (mornings only?)</li>
<li>Light, airy, and modern design<br />
</li>
</ul><strong>Cons:</strong> <br />
<ul><li>Typically very crowded</li>
<li>Long waits for showers</li>
<li>No free wifi</li>
<li>Hot!</li>
</ul></div>In Frankfurt, the Star Alliance traveler has plenty of options, as the airport is a hub for Lufthansa. As we were connecting onward to a Schengen-zone destination (Barcelona), that meant first going through passport control (immigration) and then clearing security again, but we still had plenty of time even with as confusing a layout as FRA can be. We ended up at the Lufthansa Business Lounge near gate A26, as we were departing via A29 for Barcelona.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nCxkHMiDj1g/TdA9q27VfHI/AAAAAAAAAjo/E77djH0TC9k/s1600/_MG_0867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nCxkHMiDj1g/TdA9q27VfHI/AAAAAAAAAjo/E77djH0TC9k/s320/_MG_0867.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth with an espresso in Frankfurt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Lufthansa "lounge dragons" (a play on the fact that they, like most airline lounge attendants around the world, stand guard like dragons before a moat and often have less-than-sunny demeanors if you're trying to sneak by them) have the admittance process down to a science, using a barcode scanner on your boarding pass. The downside is that you thus need an onward Star Alliance flight (switching to another alliance or terminating at FRA means no lounge for you). If you're flying business--as Beth was--or first class, the lounge scanner sends you right in. I, as a Star Alliance Gold member flying onward in economy class, had to also present my Star Alliance Gold membership card (United 1K or Continental Platinum for me) before the computers would allow Fraulein Lounge Dragon to let me pass.<br />
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The Schengen-zone Lufthansa Business Lounge, like many of the Frankfurt lounges, can be very crowded--feeling almost like a domestic Red Carpet Club in the US. We did manage to find an open table, though, near the buffet area, and settled in for some much-needed espresso, juice, pastries, and, in my case (despite it being around 8:30am) a big, delicious witbier. One other comment: like apparently so many European airports, Frankfurt (including its lounges) seems to be kept at sauna temperatures by management.<br />
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<div class="heading">BCN: Star Alliance Lounge</div><br />
<div class="infoBox"><strong>Pros:</strong><br />
<ul><li>Spacious and not too crowded</li>
<li>Okay selection of free alcohol</li>
</ul><strong>Cons:</strong> <br />
<ul><li>Poor food selection (particularly for an international lounge)</li>
<li>No free wifi</li>
<li>No arrivals facility</li>
</ul></div>In Barcelona, there are two sets of lounges available in Terminal 1's Schengen area, where hub carrier Spanair operates: the Sala VIP Lounge, and right across from it, the shared Star Alliance Lounge. (Spanair doesn't have its own flagship lounge for some reason.)<br />
<br />
There was a lot of talk a couple of years ago when the new terminal (T1) opened--when Star Alliance passengers shared the Sala VIP Lounge--that the new Star lounge would be absolutely posh, with such things as Playstation 3s, massage tables, and a golf simulator. Apparently, some contractor pocketed all the funds for those things (I'm joking, I hope), because they're either not well-marked or simply aren't there. The lounge is pretty spacious, anyway--though granted we were there at 6:00am prior to our flight down to Málaga, so the time of day could have something to do with it. Food selection wasn't great--certainly not on par with what I expect of international lounges--but the pastries and a café were fine to start the day since we left our hotel earlier than they had breakfast available.<br />
<br />
I understand there's free wired Internet access, but the wifi is pay-only. We only had a few minutes in the lounge, anyway (with a 6:50am flight out!), so I didn't really worry that much about it. A little food in our tummies and some caffeine to start the day is all we needed, and we avoided paying the ridiculous €2+ for vending machines at the airport.<br />
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<div class="heading">AGP: Sala VIP Lounge</div><br />
<div class="infoBox"><strong>Pros:</strong><br />
<ul><li>Not crowded</li>
</ul><strong>Cons:</strong> <br />
<ul><li>Spanair is too cheap to treat it as a Star Alliance lounge</li>
</ul></div>We started to stop by the Sala VIP Lounge in Málaga on our way back to Barcelona, but it was a dark omen when there was no Star Alliance signage outside the lounge.<br />
<br />
I presented my United 1K card and boarding pass and asked the agent at the counter if they honored Star Alliance status, and she explained that Spanair wasn't willing to pay the airport and lounge for passengers to use it. She did say that they'd let me in (as a Star Gold flying Spanair), but that as it wasn't a Star Alliance lounge, I couldn't have a guest. Beth was willing to see me on inside, but I demurred and thus we both bypassed said lounge.<br />
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<div class="heading">BRU: Brussels Airlines Business Lounge</div><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TOP4nhid8ks/Tc3V9eslbPI/AAAAAAAAAjc/6gIffZgKwoE/s1600/_MG_2196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TOP4nhid8ks/Tc3V9eslbPI/AAAAAAAAAjc/6gIffZgKwoE/s320/_MG_2196.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth enjoys some Trappist-brewed<br />
Leffe in Brussels </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Beth and I finished up our trip with a connection in Brussels, Belgium, and we completed our lounge tour with a stop at the Brussels Airlines Business Lounge after shopping several chocolate vendors in duty-free.<br />
<br />
<div class="infoBox"><strong>Pros:</strong><br />
<ul><li>Two varieties of Leffe (a Belgian abbey beer)</li>
<li>Temperature actually somewhat comfortable</li>
</ul><strong>Cons:</strong> <br />
<ul><li>Food options leave a bit to be desired</li>
<li>Espresso a bit weak--particularly by Euro standards!</li>
<li>No in-lounge bathrooms!</li>
</ul></div><br />
Belgium is known for both its chocolatiers and its brewers, and I certainly didn't let the morning hour dissuade me from sampling the Leffe ales (I had both a brown and a blonde to start my day--how's that?!) the lounge had on hand. Granted, InBev/Anheuser-Busch produces said beers and does so in quantity (InBev is headquartered in Belgium), which would typically preclude any kind of quality, but we're definitely not talking Bud Light, either! These "abbey beers" are very similar to some of the Trappist ales I've tasted and made for a good morning indeed.<br />
<br />
I do have to say the espresso machine let me down a bit; the stuff it put out would be strong by coffee standards in the US, but we're talking Europe here. Judging by those more stringent specifications, the stuff was little more than muddy water. Food was only so-so, a bit above the Spanair lounge but still little more than a few croissants and a dish of snack mix (well, the lounge dragon's counter did have a bowl of gummi bears, too). Beth accidentally poured me a grapefruit juice, and I found that as an adult I found the stuff palatable--last time I tried it I was probably 10 and had triple the tastebuds I do today.<br />
<br />
The biggest downside was that the lounge lacked its own bathrooms--or if any were in evidence, I couldn't find them. There were some shared facilities in the hall outside the lounge, shared apparently across the Star Alliance and OneWorld lounges--but which made the average US shopping mall bathroom look like something from a penthouse suite at the Four Seasons. I'm used to even the domestic Red Carpet Clubs having bathrooms a notch over the rest of the airport, if not full shower facilities to boot.<br />
<br />
Still, the beer alone made the stop worth it.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-90660311241038781412011-05-01T16:03:00.000-04:002011-05-01T16:03:31.526-04:00Updated Chateau Papillon Bird ListIt's that time of year: Spring migration, and time to keep an eye and ear to the skies for any new birds for the Chateau Papillon list. Although we haven't added any "life birds" via the yard in a while (<a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/09/chateau-papillon-bird-54-red-breasted.html">not since the Red-breasted Nuthatch last September</a>), April and May have nonetheless contributed three new birds to the yard list.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">In addition to two more warblers (a nicely-colored male Palm Warbler a few days back and a Northern Parula I identified by ear this morning), a long-time expected species finally put in an appearance with a mixed blackbird flock in early April: the Red-winged Blackbird. Though the latter is perhaps North America's most abundant bird and the Palm Warbler one of the most common wood-warblers, they're still welcome additions to the list. I also heard a Great-crested Flycatcher several times today, despite never being able to get my binoculars fixed on him.</div><div><br />
</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zwsgCr5N1Y8/Tb28TxtqA3I/AAAAAAAAAjY/O0DNcRBllng/s1600/Towhee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zwsgCr5N1Y8/Tb28TxtqA3I/AAAAAAAAAjY/O0DNcRBllng/s400/Towhee.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male Eastern Towhee on the fence at Chateau Papillon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>All of our work naturalizing the yard and making it as bird-friendly as possible is paying off, and I only expect us to see more new species ahead--we're only at three warblers so far, and we ought to be able to chalk up a dozen or more in time.<br />
<br />
Spring has brought the early arrival of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds as well, forcing us to dig out the nectar feeder a couple of weeks before we usually would, along with several "old friends" passing through, including a large flock of Purple Finches, several Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, and a Northern Catbird. The springtime evening breeze carries the calls of the Barred Owl from the woods behind us, and of course our friend the Pileated Woodpecker pays frequent visits for our suet.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6HGhCENqnBw/Tb27sAksMkI/AAAAAAAAAjU/LDNo0DrwN7E/s1600/_MG_0808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6HGhCENqnBw/Tb27sAksMkI/AAAAAAAAAjU/LDNo0DrwN7E/s400/_MG_0808.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sally asking for a meal worm handout</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
And, of course, Harry and Sally--our resident Eastern Bluebirds--are hard at work on a clutch of four eggs.<br />
<br />
We stand now at 59 confirmed species in the yard; maybe we can make 60 before the end of springtime:<br />
<br />
<ol style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Blackbird, Red-winged</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Bluebird, Eastern</span></span></li>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
<li>Bunting, Indigo</li>
<li>Cardinal, Northern</li>
<li>Catbird, Grey</li>
<li>Chickadee, Carolina</li>
<li>Cowbird, Brown</li>
<li>Creeper, Brown</li>
<li>Crow, American</li>
<li>Crow, Fish</li>
<li>Cuckoo, Yellow-billed</li>
<li>Dove, Mourning</li>
<li>Finch, House</li>
<li>Finch, Purple</li>
<li>Flicker, Northern</li>
<li>Flycatcher, Great Crested</li>
<li>Goldfinch, American</li>
<li>Goose, Canada</li>
<li>Grackle, Common</li>
<li>Grosbeak, Rose-breasted</li>
<li>Hawk, Cooper's</li>
<li>Hawk, Red-shouldered</li>
<li>Hawk, Red-tailed</li>
<li>Heron, Great Blue</li>
<li>Hummingbird, Ruby-throated</li>
<li>Jay, Blue</li>
<li>Junco, Dark-eyed</li>
<li>Kingbird, Eastern</li>
<li>Mallard</li>
<li>Mockingbird, Northern</li>
<li>Nuthatch, Red-breasted</li>
<li>Nuthatch, White-breasted</li>
<li>Owl, Barred</li>
<li>Parula, Northern</li>
<li>Phoebe, Eastern</li>
<li>Robin, American</li>
<li>Siskin, Pine</li>
<li>Sparrow, Chipping</li>
<li>Sparrow, Fox</li>
<li>Sparrow, House</li>
<li>Sparrow, Song</li>
<li>Sparrow, White-crowned</li>
<li>Sparrow, White-throated</li>
<li>Starling, European</li>
<li>Swallow, Tree</li>
<li>Thrasher, Brown</li>
<li>Thrush, Wood</li>
<li>Titmouse, Tufted</li>
<li>Towhee, Eastern</li>
<li>Vulture, Turkey</li>
<li>Warbler, Palm</li>
<li>Warbler, Yellow-rumped</li>
<li>Waxwing, Cedar</li>
<li>Woodpecker, Downy</li>
<li>Woodpecker, Hairy</li>
<li>Woodpecker, Pileated</li>
<li>Woodpecker, Red-bellied</li>
<li>Wren, Carolina</li>
<li>Wren, House</li>
</span></span></ol>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-71425258420833156012011-02-22T19:57:00.000-05:002011-04-22T19:58:15.595-04:00A Question of Light: Mesa Arch at Sunrise (Or, Sometimes It Pays to Be Late to Work)It's often said that the majority of nature photographers are late to work--and the intent of that statement is <i>not</i> that we're out taking pictures and then heading into our "day jobs." No, the best light comes during the so-called "golden hours" surrounding sunrise and sunset, and that means getting up, dressed, grabbing a bite to eat (and more importantly, a mug of coffee), trekking into the field, and getting gear set up for those fleeting moments, all at times that honest folks are still sawing logs and making drool puddles on their pillows and too-often in temperatures which drive sane folks to hike the covers up over their heads instead of hiking out into the countryside.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xqa1MDG7CO0/TVNkBOYehDI/AAAAAAAAAiU/aWh75CIYGws/s1600/_MG_5915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xqa1MDG7CO0/TVNkBOYehDI/AAAAAAAAAiU/aWh75CIYGws/s640/_MG_5915.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
The iconic monuments of the desert southwest are no exception to this rule (indeed, many stand as exemplars of the golden-hour), and my destination on this late-winter morning, Mesa Arch in Canyonlands National Park, stands near the top of the mandatory dawn locales. Sunrise turns the bottom of the arch completely and brilliantly orange-red with reflected light from the red rocks below. Fortunately for the morning-challenged (a demographic into which I solidly fall), Mesa Arch involves neither a particularly long drive nor hike. It's perhaps 30-40 minutes from Moab and at most a 10 minute hike from the road, mostly across level ground, too. A flashlight is helpful, but pre-dawn illumination should be good enough if you watch your step but still keep up a good pace--I had no problems at all.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yjK1QpnUrR8/TazAXaS9ZuI/AAAAAAAAAjM/-xGSwXjTV7g/s1600/Turret+Arch+at+Sunrise+through+North+Window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yjK1QpnUrR8/TazAXaS9ZuI/AAAAAAAAAjM/-xGSwXjTV7g/s400/Turret+Arch+at+Sunrise+through+North+Window.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turret Arch through the North Window -- Arches National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Visiting red rock country, I didn't have a concrete plan for my first morning on the ground after a <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2011/02/escaping-winter-with-winter-red-rocks.html">drive along the Colorado River and sunset at the Fisher Towers</a>. I had considered visiting the Windows district in Arches National Park for sunrise for the classic shot of Turret Arch through the North Window--which I'd photographed last spring with Beth but came away with a photo I wasn't entirely pleased with due to the late-breaking sun and the shadows across the bottom of Turret Arch. That, too, is a fairly close drive from Moab and not a tough hike (though positioning for the traditional composition does require climbing about 40-50 feet up some steep slickrock formations, as well as crossing an area which may eventually be made off-limits to protect the cryptobiotic soil). But I'd skipped Canyonlands on my previous trips to Utah, and Mesa Arch would be something new.<br />
<div><div><br />
</div></div><div>Even being fairly near the town of Moab and my body having the advantage of still being on eastern time for such a short trip, I still faced quite the oh-dark-thirty morning. Why do I torture myself with such an early dawn--leaving my room's warm confines well before the hotel has populated its complimentary breakfast bar with stale Danishes and coffee overheated to the point of providing its own charcoal filtration? That golden hour: yes, sunlight is in no short supply in the high desert country... but here's the rub: most of that sunshine (particularly during the mid-day hours surrounding high noon) comes in at a poor angle, its harsh rays falling from directly overhead burning away contrast. More importantly, the softer, more diffuse "golden hour" light reflects off the landscape's reds and oranges to create fantastic, glowing illumination which makes for far superior photography. High noon is best spent inside an air-conditioned cafe, sipping a cool beverage, reviewing the morning's photographs, and planning for the late afternoon's shots.</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5R4QBM6zbW0/TVNrRgWTxGI/AAAAAAAAAiY/K-a5Vw7qsI0/s1600/_MG_7038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5R4QBM6zbW0/TVNrRgWTxGI/AAAAAAAAAiY/K-a5Vw7qsI0/s400/_MG_7038.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mesa Arch at "Sunrise" -- Too bad the sun didn't put in an appearance!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I was a bit surprised to find several cars in the parking area when I pulled in well before sunrise, at about 6:30am. For the most part, I'd nearly had the Moab area to myself in the off-season, and I hadn't encountered another vehicle on the drive out to Canyonlands. Either some folks had actually camped out in the park (not likely given the overnight temperatures!), or had gotten up <i>really</i> early for Mesa Arch. At the end of my short hike, I found about a half dozen photographers set up already, apparently part of a group expedition.<br />
<br />
Now, as a photographer, I not only respect others' shots but the use of parks by anyone else out enjoying nature, be they hikers, birdwatchers, climbers, or joggers. I unfortunately discovered that respect isn't a universal value, though, given how a couple of the members of the group really monopolized the viewpoint of Mesa Arch. Typically, there's room for all; for example, when photographing the Towers of the Virgin at Zion National Park last fall, I found myself in the middle of a photography seminar perhaps fifteen strong, but was able to take a spot that yielded some quite nice photography without disrupting anyone else. Here, one lady in particular kept moving closer to the arch as dawn approached, using a wide angle and interposing herself into my composition (along with those of a couple of other photographers from her own group who'd set up to the left as I had). Worse, she just <i>camped out </i>in the photo; she could have filled a fairly large memory card with images in the time she spent blocking the shot for the rest of us. I dunno, but my photographer's ethic says I don't spoil the enjoyment others may be getting out of nature just to make my own shot work.<br />
<br />
The grey, cloud-cloaked dawn left me with the last laugh, so to speak. The large group checked their watches a few times, grumbled about sunrise having come and gone with no glimpse of the sun itself, and eventually gave up and left. A late-arriving couple, one foreign hiker, and I were all who remained, lingering in the hope against hope that perhaps the sun would at last show.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2tleaHCfbAo/TbIU6CFTBMI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/w8LJhp0ajJk/s1600/_MG_7208-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2tleaHCfbAo/TbIU6CFTBMI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/w8LJhp0ajJk/s640/_MG_7208-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Finally, the sun did indeed peek above the low clouds, still low enough to the horizon to render that wonderful, reflected light up from the canyon walls below onto Mesa Arch. I can only imagine what a proper sunrise would have done--what a fantastic spectacle that must be, and surely a requirement for a later trip back to Canyonlands--but unlike the early birds who left, defeated, I did get a glimpse of what Mesa Arch is supposed to look like in the right light.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-51080014357787126212011-02-06T19:30:00.001-05:002011-02-20T14:58:11.620-05:00Silicone Intercooler Pipes for the ForesterIn trying to track down a minor fuel leak under my hood, I noticed what appeared to be a very timeworn hose--and though large parts of said hose were hidden away from sight, its purpose was clear: the hose led from turbocharger to intercooler, and I can't imagine having that hose fail while driving would lead to good times. So after a bit of research, I ordered not the cheaply-built OEM plastic pipe but a snazzy silicone set which would stand up to the temperatures of a turbocharged engine better and look good at the same time. Replacing the turbo hoses would involve my first real bit of mechanical disassembly under the hood and give me some good practice for future maintenance.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ud7ELjVjoog/TWElYd68wsI/AAAAAAAAAic/HxosIpnesHo/s1600/_MG_8842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ud7ELjVjoog/TWElYd68wsI/AAAAAAAAAic/HxosIpnesHo/s640/_MG_8842.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The intercooler with its fancy new silicone Y-pipe installed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Between the appropriate <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Subaru-Legacy-Forester-2000-thru/dp/1563926199?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Haynes repair manual </a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=johnnolley-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1563926199" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />and Peaty's excellent instructions over at the <a href="http://www.scoobymods.com/silicone-y-hose-forester-xts-t3361.html">SubaruForester.org forums</a>, the process wasn't too difficult and something any amateur mechanic could tackle--the hardest part was working the old hoses loose and getting the intercooler out without bending any of the delicate metal radiator vanes (you can see some bent vanes in the photo above--not due to my handiwork, I can assure you).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IFZBc31rck/TWFshfCx6NI/AAAAAAAAAig/HcnEboMpCo0/s1600/_MG_8837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IFZBc31rck/TWFshfCx6NI/AAAAAAAAAig/HcnEboMpCo0/s400/_MG_8837.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original intercooler pipes--cheap plastic covered with foam wrapping</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I made sure to clean the fittings well--they had a little bit of cooked blow-by oil on them from the turbocharger, but not as much as I'd feared. Still, there was enough oil that it makes me wonder if I might need to replace the turbocharger itself in the next couple of years; I'll definitely give it a good once-over when I have the intake manifold apart when the weather gets a bit nicer. I did after all have the engine throw an AVCS-related code a couple of years ago, most likely due to an oil filter screen dropping down into the AVCS body--and in the process, the turbo could have starved for oil a bit and taken on a bit of excess wear.<br />
<br />
While I had the intercooler off, I also gave the engine a treatment of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/MOTOR-TREATMENT-MULTI-USE-OZ/dp/B0002JN2EU?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Sea Foam</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=johnnolley-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B0002JN2EU" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> straight in through the throttle body, given it hadn't had an upper cleaning for at least 20,000 miles (if ever--I asked for one at my 60k service, but am not sure the mechanic actually performed it or not). On the 2004 Forester XT, there just isn't a vacuum line which feeds all four cylinders equally, so applying the cleaner straight into the throttle body is a necessity and cleans the throttle butterfly, too. Surprisingly, the Sea Foam didn't yield quite as much smoke as I'd expected--some folks describe the effect as a spy-gadget smokescreen as atomized carbon deposits make their way out the exhaust--maybe the mechanic had actually done an engine upper cleaning after all.<br />
<br />
I went with the Samco intercooler hose set for the 2006-and-newer Subaru Impreza WRX (part TCS332). Samco doesn't make a Forester XT-specific hose set, but two of the three pipes in the WRX one are directly compatible with the 2004 FXT: the Y-pipe (the replacement of which had started this whole exercise) and the short coupler between the intercooler outlet and the throttle body. The third hose, the blowoff valve recirculator hose, won't work in the 2004 Forester XT due to being the completely wrong shape, but my original BOV recirc hose looks fine.<br />
<br />
Putting the intercooler back on wasn't too hard--the hoses were significantly easier to reattach than they had been to remove. After a bit of idling in the driveway to make sure nothing was leaking, I took the car out for a spin.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cjySeAgTGU8/TWFv8IqE3vI/AAAAAAAAAik/zGZghSttOFA/s1600/_MG_8850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cjySeAgTGU8/TWFv8IqE3vI/AAAAAAAAAik/zGZghSttOFA/s640/_MG_8850.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The completed installation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I do need to work on the vanes on the intercooler a bit; bugs and even some small pebbles (!) sucked in through the hood air scoop have left their marks on the delicate metal. It's a painstaking task with a safety pin, though, and something I don't want to do when it's near-freezing outside.<br />
<br />
Next up: maintenance on some of the oil supply lines to inspect (and in two cases completely remove) poorly-designed filter screens from inside the banjo bolt union screws. One of these already caused a "check engine" code on my car a couple of years ago--thankfully without doing apparent damage to the oil control valves--while another can critically starve the turbo of the oil it needs to spin at 100,000+ RPM. I've still got plans to take apart the intake manifold and fix the cold-weather leaky fuel line problem affecting so many Subarus, but that's a task for warmer weather and a long weekend. After that, I may install the OEM turbo boost gauge to see just what sort of output I'm getting from my stock turbocharger.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-7289420811323378972011-02-05T13:28:00.056-05:002011-02-06T19:57:39.711-05:00Escaping Winter ... With Winter? Red Rocks Revisited and a January Trip to the Colorado PlateauWinter in the Washington, D.C., area can be a bit dreary--come mid-January, I'm typically ready to hit the road and escape the chill for a few days (all the while dreaming of a snowbird home on the Gulf coast). So it may come as something of a surprise that my first trip of 2011 took me not to a tropical destination but instead to the high desert country of the Colorado Plateau.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU2YQqzpYJI/AAAAAAAAAiE/be3WPzk0vLc/s1600/_MG_7712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU2YQqzpYJI/AAAAAAAAAiE/be3WPzk0vLc/s640/_MG_7712.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Of all the places I've traveled, the red rock deserts of southern Utah and western Colorado left me the most breathless (and not due to the altitude, mind you). Beth and I visited southern Utah for the first time last spring with a <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/04/amazing-spectacle-of-valley-of-goblins.html">short weekend holiday to Goblin Valley</a> and a visit to Arches National Park, then returned in the fall to take in two of the other <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/10/millennia-on-display-splendor-of-bryce.html">"great circle" national parks in Bryce Canyon and Zion</a>. As beautiful as the parks were, I wanted to see them again with some snow on the ground in the midst of winter. Too, all of these magnificent parks have come a long way since the days of Edward Abbey's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Desert-Solitaire-Edward-Abbey/dp/0671695886?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Desert Solitaire</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=johnnolley-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0671695886" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> </i>and can be quite crowded in the peak spring and fall seasons, but winter can be a magnificent, near-solitary experience.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU9BihaDaSI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/Q1cRcMIuYMA/s1600/_MG_6658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU9BihaDaSI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/Q1cRcMIuYMA/s640/_MG_6658.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
As Beth wasn't able to come along, I didn't want to tackle the longer trip to Bryce Canyon (necessitating a drive up from Vegas for United flies like me--though SkyWest has now resumed one daily flight from LAX to St. George, Utah, which would make it a much nicer trip). So I decided on a flight to Grand Junction, Colorado, and a fairly short drive down to the Moab, Utah, area, to take in Arches in winter, along with visits to Canyonlands National Park and finally a stop at the Colorado National Monument.<br />
<br />
My trip down from Grand Junction to Moab gave me the chance to take Scenic Byway 128, a wonderful stretch of highway that runs along the Colorado River. (When Beth and I visited Arches last spring, we took the more-modern US 191 down from Interstate 70, as we were coming from the west after our trip to Goblin Valley.) My flight timing and the drive's duration meant I'd have only one real stop for the evening's "golden hour" of sunset light, and I'd chosen the Fisher Towers for my first real photographic opportunity of the trip.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU2d0ubIbZI/AAAAAAAAAiI/D0k7wVI7tIE/s1600/_MG_6862-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU2d0ubIbZI/AAAAAAAAAiI/D0k7wVI7tIE/s640/_MG_6862-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a>In his <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Photographing-Southwest-1-Southern-Utah-2nd/dp/0916189120?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Photographing the Southwest</a>, Laurent Martres calls the Fisher Towers the "reddest rocks you'll find at sunset." Although I personally think Red Canyon near Bryce takes that honor, I have to say that he's not far off the mark with respect to the Fisher Towers, either.<br />
<br />
There's a spot Laurent describes where you can climb down from one of the many pull-outs along SB 128 to the Colorado River and capture the Fisher Towers, La Sal Mountains, and the Colorado River all in one shot. It took me several different stops and a bit of walking around before I found the exact spot he described. I'll let the curious buy Mr. Matrtres book (which is fantastic, along with his subsequent volumes covering Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona), but it is as he described quite a steep, slick hike down through the brush and out to a rock perched in the river itself.<br />
<br />
Winter is definitely a good time to photograph the Fisher Towers with the added interest of snow white dusted across the intense reds that draw the human eye like no other color can--but timing is still tricky. The best time would be early winter, after a bit of snow but before the Colorado has iced over (as in my photo above, an icy river doesn't yield the kind of stunning reflection you can capture in slightly warmer weather). You need to take this shot an hour or more before sunset, as the river itself will quickly fall completely into shadows well before the Fisher Towers are at their prime red glow. A vertical crop on a decent medium telephoto would work quite well when the river offers up a reflection--note I used a horizontal and cropped out most of the river here given there's only so much interest to be had in the river's ice.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU8_XEN-V6I/AAAAAAAAAiM/gXrRx80CobU/s1600/_MG_6966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TU8_XEN-V6I/AAAAAAAAAiM/gXrRx80CobU/s640/_MG_6966.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Another benefit of wintertime for the photographer is that the work day is shorter; during our spring trip, Beth and I were up before 5:00 am and into the field before 6:30, and though we could have spent the hours of harsh mid-day light catching a cat-nap in the car, catching both dawn and dusk meant putting in a 12-14 hour "day." During the winter, sunrise comes as late as 7:30 and sunset as early as 5:00--and the angle of the sun is steeper, extending the "golden hour" and helping give even the middle of the day some okay photographic conditions.<br />
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Day one under my belt, I checked into my hotel for the night, ready to tackle the photographer's workday of o'dark-thirty the following morning after a stop at Zax, a Moab restaurant specializing in pizza and with a nice selection of local brews on tap, Mormon tastes in alcohol and teetotaling notwithstanding. Beth and I stopped there last spring and barely squeezed in ahead of a tour bus--in the midst of winter, I had the place nearly to myself.<br />
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As for the weather? Despite all the snow in my photographs, it was actually significantly warmer 4000-feet up on the Colorado Plateau than in D.C. during my trip, with daytime highs near 40 (about 20 degrees higher than back home). Guess I did escape winter for a few short hours after all.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-18183132172560500892011-01-29T18:00:00.000-05:002011-02-04T20:48:23.492-05:00Weathering Another Winter (Or: Wishing for Sunshine and Finally Buying a Generator)Last year, we had an awful winter in the D.C. area, with not only one massive "<a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-wonderland-dc-areas-record.html">Snowmageddon</a>" but a second "<a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/02/scenes-from-snowpocalyse-now-redux.html">Snowpocalypse</a>" dumping over two feet of snow apiece on us. Somehow, we made it through both without losing power, though during the second storm, Beth and I seriously considered a generator as tens of thousands of people in the area suffered outages. Though this year we've managed to avoid snowfall totals like those, what we've ended up with has been bad enough: heavy, wet snow and ice which has struck hard at our new plants and <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/03/winters-toll-part-2-assessing-gardens.html">those still recovering from last winter</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyHrUlEOKI/AAAAAAAAAhs/J844PE-T3Yo/s1600/_MG_8418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyHrUlEOKI/AAAAAAAAAhs/J844PE-T3Yo/s640/_MG_8418.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
This most recent storm had been projected to be a heavy bout of rain up until about two or three days out, when the computer models all began to converge upon a significant snow event. Even then, many remained doubtful we'd be hit hard (a sentiment which carried over into the actual storm even as it slammed areas to the immediate west). Local schools made the right call and cancelled the day before, when we'd only had a dusting of precipitation. Unfortunately, the Office of Personnel Management for the feds decided only to dismiss two hours early--putting tens of thousands of federal employees and contractors on the roads right as the storm arrived.<br />
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As I left the office, it was raining, but by the time I got out of the parking garage, the precipitation had changed over to sleet. When I got to Fairfax Circle--about halfway home along my commute--we'd already gotten over an inch of snow. The sheer energy of the storm created thunder and lightning--an eerie, almost frightening event known as "thundersnow" which though fairly rare I've now experienced three times in the past year. Visibility fell to a couple dozen feet, and even jam-packed with an early rush hour's traffic, the roads quickly accumulated several inches of snow. The last mile or so of my commute was a nightmare, thanks to the elements and drivers who had no business being on the roads: folks with no headlights on (!); people who drove in the middle of the road even with oncoming traffic; cars like the Mitsubishi Eclipse I saw spinning out trying to make it up a fairly gentle hill or even the SUVs whose owners seemed to think 4WD gave them license to drive like fools; and, worst of all, those bad drivers who made things worse by abandoning their cars in the middle of the highway. During the hour and a half it took me to go seven miles--and in that I was lucky; some folks had 10-13 hour commutes in what has come to be known as "carmageddon"--we got over three inches of snow. Finally home for the evening, I settled in with Beth and the Pupsters.<br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyNfIpoO-I/AAAAAAAAAhw/Ezjl-nyntEU/s1600/_MG_6608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyNfIpoO-I/AAAAAAAAAhw/Ezjl-nyntEU/s640/_MG_6608.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our oriole feeder after a January ice storm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sure, it's pretty for a few hours, but when the weather is bringing down trees all around the neighborhood, it's not fun anymore. Nor is it fun to see the gardens over which you've toiled long spring and summer hours over demolished by the elements: last year, we lost an American holly in the front yard when the snow snapped it in half (we've since resurrected the stump, which put out new growth over the year), and our inkberries and several other plants sustained heavy damage and many broken branches. "Here we go again," I thought as snow came down at up to two inches an hour.<br />
<br />
Even venturing out into the snow three times during the storm, Beth and I were hard-pressed to protect our plants. We gently brushed and knocked the dense, thick snow from limbs and foliage and hoped for the best. The new American holly out front, along with an English holly that made it through last winter intact, both had been weighed down so badly they risked snapping their trunks in half, and our scraggly, barely-recovered inkberries had been splayed to the ground. Our red-twig dogwoods--species well-adapted to snow, being native well into Canada--for the first time had broken limbs, too. Evergreens of any sort had been crushed by the snow. Worst, every one of our river birches were bent completely to the ground, sustaining several snapped branches.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyPp5mIbFI/AAAAAAAAAh0/tjZBgxgCVLs/s1600/_MG_8416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyPp5mIbFI/AAAAAAAAAh0/tjZBgxgCVLs/s640/_MG_8416.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ms. Kooki, perhaps you're unaware it's snowing and that we want to play outside?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Despite all the plant damage and several times when our power flickered off for a second or two, it seemed like we'd make it through the evening without losing our electricity. The snow finally let up around 10:30pm, having dumped a layer of sleet topped by about eight inches of snow on us. As I mentioned earlier, we'd considered a generator last winter but managed not to need one, and then missed out on the sales-tax holiday on them in May (for hurricane preparedness). We were not to be so lucky this time around.<br />
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Shortly before midnight, the power went out and stayed out. We discovered the next morning that a huge tree had come down near the entrance of our neighborhood, blocking the road and snapping several lines--not to mention a half dozen more minor breaks just in our immediate area. Given the extent of the damage, we'd likely be without power for days--Dominion's Web site (which doesn't work with Chrome, making it impossible to report an outage from my phone) estimated they'd have it back up the next night, but I knew from experience they were being incredibly optimistic. The house had held heat fairly well thanks to all the energy improvements we'd made--after a night of 20-degree temperatures, we were only down to 63 degrees inside from 69 the evening before--but it was only going to get colder.<br />
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So Beth and I headed to Costco before they opened on Thursday and lined up outside the entrance along with a dozen or so others--about half of us with flatbed carts and clearly intent upon the same thing: generators. Within five minutes of the doors opening, Costco had sold out! Several customers helped each other load the heavy boxes onto each others' carts, and after picking up a few other necessities, we headed home with our new generator and six gallons of gas to fuel it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyUMY5be3I/AAAAAAAAAh4/mQ3RScI5yuc/s1600/_MG_8436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyUMY5be3I/AAAAAAAAAh4/mQ3RScI5yuc/s640/_MG_8436.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
We had to shovel a path and dig out an area where we could run the generator, then assembly took some time out in the cold, snowy yard: I had to put together the generator's frame and wheels, fill its oil reservoir and attach exhaust components, connect the battery, and drive and wire ground stake. By the time I had everything set up, I had to go into the office, as the OPM had not closed the federal government despite the weather and widespread power outages, and the facility I work at was open.<br />
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Dominion's estimated time to get our power back up came and went as expected. I unfortunately let Beth talk me out of wiring up the furnace blower motor to the generator, instead using it to power just our fridge, a lamp, and an electric space heater we set up in the living room. We spent the evening playing cards and listening to music on my iPod, then bundled up for a chilly night ahead: a day and a half into the blackout and temperatures inside had fallen to 54 degrees. Multiple blankets, thermal underclothes, and even a true three dog night as all the Pupsters piled onto the futon with us... but it was not a comfortable night, as I had to get up several times to tend to the generator outside.<br />
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During the "break in" period for a new engine, you have to change the oil after about five hours of use--and check the oil level repeatedly. And of course, you have to top off the gas so that it doesn't run dry. Each of these operations requires disconnecting the appliances et al being powered, shutting off the generator, then powering it back up and reconnecting things afterwards. I also was hesitant to run the generator basically non-stop for more than seven or eight hours, particularly given how it was brand new.<br />
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Friday morning meant another day at the office, a shower by flaslight first, and on the way out of the neighborhood I saw that Dominion had yet to even attempt to move the giant tree which the storm had brought down. Worse, one of our neighbor's trees had dropped a limb onto our power lines, though it hadn't actually snapped them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyk3FFi0tI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Xy_mO53G9Hs/s1600/_MG_8449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TUyk3FFi0tI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Xy_mO53G9Hs/s400/_MG_8449.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I left the office early, came home, and decided enough was enough with the upstairs temperatures down to 50 degrees and the basement pipes likely in danger of freezing up. I finally had time to re-wire the furnace blower to run off of the generator. Though I didn't feel like investing in a $280 transfer switch at Home Depot, I did completely disconnect the furnace from the power mains so I could just plug the furnace into the generator and not worry about overloading the generator or damaging the home's wiring. Some people do that--plugging a generator into an outlet with a double-ended cord may be convenient, but that's a mistake and a fire hazard.<br />
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You know, gas heat works really well when you have electricity to blow the hot air around--within hours, the house was back to livable conditions. (This of course ensured Dominion would have the power back on within another five hours or so, about two and a half days of blackout.) After we got back from dinner with some friends, Dominion had finally come and cut away the branches on our lines, too.<br />
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I can only hope we're done with winter--Punxsutawney Phil be damned. But we're ready for the next bout of winter if it comes, shiny new generator and all.John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-21123104893719550932011-01-28T22:09:00.161-05:002011-01-30T23:30:22.120-05:00The Magical Effects of a Power Steering Flush (DIY for $7 or Less)My car is getting old, and an older car means more maintenance. Worse, it's a turbocharged import, meaning work on it isn't cheap--my last major scheduled maintenance cost over $2000. So the fact my car had started having a few issues and my desire to put another 82,000 miles on it before even considering a newer model has driven me (no pun intended) to teach myself some basic and not-so-basic maintenance. The first success: flushing the power steering system--a task easier than changing the oil yet which had a big payoff!<br />
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Winter weather is rough on cars, and I'd been prepared to dismiss the slightly-jerky steering on my way to work each morning as a side-effect of the chilly temperatures. My car had also started idling a bit roughly, but hey, it was after all seven years and 82,000 miles old. Oh, and that vibration in the steering wheel around 45 mph? Probably tire wear or alignment, right? And the shops I took the car to checked all the fluids, didn't they?<br />
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Yet when working on a completely separate issue (more on that later), I noticed the power steering fluid was a yellow-orange color, when everything I'd read had stated the Forester's fluid should be red. Hmmm...<br />
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Jiffy Lube wanted $100+ to tackle the flush-and-fill on the power steering system. I can only imagine what a dealership would have charged! (The average price seems to run around $100, from what I can tell, with a range between $80 and $150.) Enter a trip to my service manual and the Googles.<br />
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Confusingly enough (though stated so in the owner's manual and on the power steering fluid tank), the 2004 Subaru Forester XT's power steering system takes Dexron III automatic transmission fluid--<i>not</i> power steering fluid! I'd been considering flushing the system myself for a couple of weeks when I finally stopped at an auto parts store on the way home from work one day and picked up a couple of quarts of the stuff at a total cost of under $7. Obviously, it pays to use what the manual actually calls for and not just look at the shelves and labels!<br />
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<div><br />
</div><br />
Though the full flush procedure involves a somewhat-tedious process (not one I expect the big-brand service centers actually complete, mind you--there's no way they do so along with everything else in a 20-minute service), there's a simple trick that does the job almost as well and with a fraction of the effort. Here's what you do:<br />
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<br />
<ol><li>Drive the car a bit to warm things up, then park on a reasonably level surface and shut off the engine.</li>
<li>Siphon out the existing power steering fluid straight from the reservoir (you could drain it by removing a hose, too). I used an all-purpose siphon hose, but a lot of DIY'ers claim a turkey baster from the dollar store works well, too.</li>
<li>Fill the power steering reservoir to the appropriate level (should be marked on the reservoir) with new lubricant.</li>
<li>Start the car, then turn the steering wheel all the way to the right and then all the way to the left several times. This will help circulate the new fluid and remove air from the system.</li>
<li>Stop the car, and repeat steps 2-4 several more times.</li>
</ol><br />
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The first time I flushed the system out, the fluid was a dark orange. It wasn't gunky or burnt, but it certainly wasn't right, either. After one flushing, the fluid still came out orange, even though what I'd poured in was deep red. I repeated twice more, with each change of fluid coming out more and more red. Overall, I didn't even use a full quart of fluid in this process. You may need to repeat the process weekly if your power steering system is really dirty--after a week, though, my fluid is still nice and red.<br />
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No, it's not a true, full flush of the power steering system, but I can guarantee the typical big-brand service center doesn't do that, either, in the 20 minutes of "while you wait" work, either. It got the job done for me, though.<br />
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What's amazing is that this simple bit of work, accounting for perhaps 10 minutes of this car maintenance novice's time, has had a <i>huge</i> impact on my car! Gone is the jerkiness in the steering in the morning. Better yet, gone is the rough idling: I suppose the fluid was dirty enough it was causing the power steering pump to strain a bit. (Now, whether or not that means I have to change the whole pump out sometime in the not-distant future is an open question; if my fluid was bad enough to cause that much strain on the pump, might it not have done damage to it, too?)<br />
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I didn't even use the second bottle of Dexron III yet, so my real cost was $3.50. That's a savings of at least $96.50 over what I'd have paid someone else to do it, and the process required no tools (well, the siphon, though I could have gotten by with a $1 turkey baster) and 10 minutes or less of my time. And it had a noticeable effect on my car's everyday driving--nice!<br />
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After such a simple fix as my improvised power steering fluid flush, I feel empowered over my car, no longer in thrall to the mechanic's shop for anything short of a total engine overhaul. Yes, I know my accomplishment was nearly effortless (an oil change would be more work, actually), but baby steps, baby steps!<br />
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Next up is a barely-more-challenging task: I'm replacing the stock intercooler hoses on my car with some fancy silicone ones from Samco. No, I'm not out to make my car over into some modded race machine; I simply noticed the stock hose was a bit scruffy and ragged looking when under the hood. Wouldn't do to have the hose that delivers hot air from the turbo to the intercooler to split... and why pay over $100 for the cheap plastic and rubber OEM hoses when a similar outlay gets something much more temperature-resistant and with improved airflow (read: more horsepower)? More on this next weekend when I should have the parts on hand. (Way) further down the road will be disassembly of the intake manifold, as I need to pull it to get at the source of a minor fuel leak (again noticeable only on freezing-cold mornings like the power steering issue was), which most likely lies in the lines supplying the injectors or in the injector O-rings given everything else I've checked.<br />
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<i>Obvious disclaimers: I can't be responsible for any damage you do to your car or yourself or others if you work on your own car. I simply want to share the simple process which worked for me! Be safe, and do your homework before attempting any maintenance on your vehicle.</i>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8282409005333383386.post-781683009926271712010-12-04T20:32:00.257-05:002010-12-24T20:21:37.997-05:00Birding Kaeng Kracharn National Park: A Day Trip with Tony "Eagle Eye" & Co.Although the primary purpose of my trip to the erstwhile Kingdom of Siam was for <a href="http://exerda.blogspot.com/2010/12/one-night-in-bangkok-one-afternoon-at.html">dental work</a>, I couldn't let such a long trip to such a wonderful birding location go without an excursion to add a few birds to my life list. So I booked a day trip to Kaeng Krachan National Park with expert local bird guide <a href="http://www.thailandbirdwatching.com/bird_leaders.html">Tony "Eagle Eye."</a><br />
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Kaeng Krachan is Thailand's largest national park, encompassing around 45 square kilometers near the border with Burma (aka Myanmar), and is about a 3 1/2 hour drive from Bangkok; it's home to over 300 species of birds, almost all of them potential "life birds" to me (meaning I'd be seeing them for the first time in my life).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUUDgFiVfI/AAAAAAAAAgs/TAIsdldqeMI/s1600/_MG_5632_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUUDgFiVfI/AAAAAAAAAgs/TAIsdldqeMI/s400/_MG_5632_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
As every birder knows, the day often starts before dawn, and facing a long drive from Bangkok meant an even earlier one: Tony picked me up at the hotel at 4:00am local time, and together with his wife and his brother as a driver, we set off for our day trip. We made a stop for coffee and some breakfast along the way at a 7-11 (yes, they have 7-11s in Thailand), and the sun was just starting to come up as we neared Kaeng Krachan.<br />
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The mountainous forests at that hour are alive with sounds that I as a birder from the United States (with a smidgen of birding in the Caribbean and Europe under my belt) to be totally novel, like something out of a movie. On familiar turf, I rely on birding "by ear" fairly heavily, helping me know which birds are hanging out in the trees and brush... but in Thailand, I was on completely unknown ground. (I did, later in the day, recognize what had to be a woodpecker's short, high <i>chip</i>--that was nearly the only familiar bird sound of the trip!) Noisier than the birds were the many gibbons, which <a href="http://www.soundboard.com/sb/Gibbon_Monkey_sounds.aspx">made an unearthly racket</a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUbHKCRg_I/AAAAAAAAAgw/OsT5YOSi5wQ/s1600/_MG_5737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUbHKCRg_I/AAAAAAAAAgw/OsT5YOSi5wQ/s400/_MG_5737.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Dusky Langur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Speaking of the various primates we saw--including, I think, the noisy Black-handed Gibbons--were some Dusky Langurs, one of which I caught on film as it perched right above our car.<br />
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From the very start of our morning birding, Tony was an <i>incredible</i> professional. He'd have his spotting scope out and set up before I even had begun to guess at where the birds in the dense forest canopy were. Now, I know I'm a middling-good birder at best and have frequently found myself awed by the birding skills of friends like expert Florida birder Adam Kent (and his wife Gina), but I have to say that Tony really, really impressed me with his birding. We'd be driving along the dirt roads through the park, and he'd signal a stop and almost immediately have a new bird in sight, no matter how thick or dense the forest above us--and he knew them all by ear and name. I'd studied my copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Birds-Thailand-Princeton-Field-Guides/dp/0691007012?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Birds of Thailand</a> before the trip to at least familiarize myself with the sorts of things I'd see, but I would have been all day flipping pages without Tony.<br />
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As all of the birds would be new to me, I didn't have a list of particulars I just had to see (though to be fair, I kind of did want to see a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greater_flameback">Flameback</a>, as the similarly-sized and appearing Pileated Woodpecker<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=johnnolley-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0691007012" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> is one of my personal favorites back home). So, pretty much from the outset of the trip, I was chalking new life birds on my list--as I explained to Tony, even the most common of birds would be exciting to me for this first time birding in southeast Asia. Indeed, I recall my first visit to California, when I saw a <a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Western_Scrub-Jay/id">Western Scrub Jay</a> for the first time and was just mesmerized by a bird which is as common there as the Blue Jay is back here in the eastern US.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUfjbBZqGI/AAAAAAAAAg0/h0XZQBn3nu4/s1600/_MG_5670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUfjbBZqGI/AAAAAAAAAg0/h0XZQBn3nu4/s400/_MG_5670.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Emerald Dove</td></tr>
</tbody></table>In most parts of the United States, we typically see only two or three dove species with any ease, and the most common, the Mourning Dove and the imported Rock Dove (aka the ubiquitous park bench pigeon) are indeed so ordinary so as to be not worth a second glance. I've indeed never been much interested in doves, outside the one time a Mourning Dove tried to nest in the tree outside our window in Vienna. Yet in Thailand, the dozens of dove species struck me as beautiful and unique.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUoBIJ0tAI/AAAAAAAAAg8/y2sWXqij9Vc/s1600/Dove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUoBIJ0tAI/AAAAAAAAAg8/y2sWXqij9Vc/s400/Dove.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mountain Imperial Pigeon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUizTFQ6BI/AAAAAAAAAg4/TWGO5N80UFQ/s1600/_MG_5745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUizTFQ6BI/AAAAAAAAAg4/TWGO5N80UFQ/s320/_MG_5745.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A White-browed Scimitar Babbler (I think!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The dense forest coupled with the grey skies of the day made photography a bit of a challenge, necessitating high ISOs (I ended up putting my Canon 50D in "auto ISO" mode, where it could range up to a noise-plagued ISO 1600 if needed) and quick reflexes. I do have to say that my Canon 300mm f4L coupled with 1.4x teleconverter--my normal "poor man's" birding setup as I've never had the spare change to pick up a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Canon-500mm-Super-Telephoto-Cameras/dp/B00009R6X4?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">500mm</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=johnnolley-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B00009R6X4" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Canon-600mm-Super-Telephoto-Cameras/dp/B00009R6X9?ie=UTF8&tag=johnnolley-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">600mm lens</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=johnnolley-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B00009R6X9" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> (any generous patrons out there?!)--wasn't quite up to the challenges of autofocusing in such conditions. If I could have spared the extra 120mm of focal length, removing the 1.4x teleconverter would have probably helped a lot, as it noticeably slows autofocus on non-1-series Canon bodies. Actually, I think digiscoping might have been the way to go, given what a great job Tony did getting the scope onto the birds. But, I got a lot of "record" shots and a few real keepers, too--I was pretty happy overall with my day of bird photography.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUqHPtq_PI/AAAAAAAAAhA/cxzvNnS6rdc/s1600/_MG_5834-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUqHPtq_PI/AAAAAAAAAhA/cxzvNnS6rdc/s400/_MG_5834-Edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Bulbul--I think it's a Flavescent Bulbul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After a great morning of birding which included spotting a pair of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Hornbill">Great Hornbills</a>--massive birds which can weigh up to 9 pounds and which are best described to the non-birder as looking a bit like a Toucan--and some impressive <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greater_Racket-tailed_Drongo">Greater Racket-tailed Drongos</a> among the many other species we saw, we stopped for lunch near a stream. Tony provided lunch and had brought along a nice selection of fresh fruit, including apples, oranges (which in Thailand are green-skinned), grapes, and some persimmons from China. We had packets of steamed rice to combine with chicken, egg, or a vegetable mix Tony warned was quite spicy when I reached for some (and it was--but I adore spicy food and had in fact had some super-spicy <i>kaeng khiao wan</i> or green curry for lunch the day before).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUq-M_jaoI/AAAAAAAAAhE/XtvAO9vEVpE/s1600/_MG_5912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUq-M_jaoI/AAAAAAAAAhE/XtvAO9vEVpE/s400/_MG_5912.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterflies at a Mineral "Lick"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Appropriate for someone coming from Chateau Papillon, nearby was a spectacular sight: dozens of butterflies gathered at the edge of the water, apparently collecting minerals from the red clay soil (that red clay was too-familiar as well for someone living on the piedmont-side of the fall line in Virginia).<br />
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We birded in the lower elevations alongside the streams and rivers throughout the afternoon, and as Tony had promised earlier in the day, we indeed did get to see some Greater Flamebacks--a group of five of them, all told! Although I didn't get a photo of these beautiful woodpeckers (they were so deep in the foliage it was a challenge making them out at all), getting to see them was in and of itself a wonderful treat. (The photos in the linked Wikipedia article above really do not do them justice.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUv6-qKLdI/AAAAAAAAAhI/8HJeXogY0UM/s1600/Bee-eater%252C-Red-bearded.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRUv6-qKLdI/AAAAAAAAAhI/8HJeXogY0UM/s400/Bee-eater%252C-Red-bearded.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-bearded Bee Eater</td></tr>
</tbody></table>One of the noisier birds of the day was the beautiful Red-bearded Bee Eater. I can't describe its <a href="http://ibc.lynxeds.com/sound/red-bearded-bee-eater-nyctyornis-amictus/song-calls-3">sounds</a>, other than to say that much like the Carolina Wren, the bird's volume is far greater than its body size would suggest.<br />
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Tony patiently pointed out the locations of several species I had a hard time spotting in the forest, using a green laser pointer to help steer me in the right direction.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRU3aCvOjWI/AAAAAAAAAhM/qYxsP0mwdLg/s1600/_MG_5647_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRU3aCvOjWI/AAAAAAAAAhM/qYxsP0mwdLg/s400/_MG_5647_1.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tony "Eagle Eye" (Thanaphat Kinglek) and his wife</td></tr>
</tbody></table>In contrast to the morning, the afternoon was fairly quiet--though as I said above, we did see several great birds in the afternoon, including another hornbill, this time an Oriental Pied Hornbill. Though my photo wasn't the best I could have taken, it was again a great spotting for a Thailand birding newbie like me.<div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRU_6Rp2ypI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/55D1KggfG-w/s1600/_MG_5954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRU_6Rp2ypI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/55D1KggfG-w/s320/_MG_5954.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oriental Pied Hornbill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>On our way back to Bangkok, we stopped along the Bight of Bangkok to look for the rare and critically endangered <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoon-billed_Sandpiper">Spoon-billed Sandpiper</a>, which winters in southeast Asia. Just as the sun was about to set, Tony found one amongst the flocks of plovers and other shorebirds and called me over excitedly to his scope. Though it was too far off for me to attempt to get even a "record" photo of, I still got to see a fantastic species; there are less than 2500 of them left in the world. The sandpiper's spoon bill is unmistakable.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRVB8p7iTsI/AAAAAAAAAhU/AaaQSI9eKug/s1600/_MG_6013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRVB8p7iTsI/AAAAAAAAAhU/AaaQSI9eKug/s320/_MG_6013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plovers along the Bight of Bangkok</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After that magnificent spotting, we climbed back into the car for the drive home, stopping for dinner at the ubiquitous 7-11, with some hot dogs and some sort of sweet-filled fried pasty for dessert. It was a long day of birding, starting at 4:00am and wrapping up around 8:00pm, but a worthwhile trip. Overall, I added several dozen new species to my "life list," including in addition to those I've pictured and mentioned: the Vernal Hanging Parrot, the Asian Fairy Bluebird, several flycatchers (Tickell's, Verditer, Ferruginous, and Hill Blue, I believe), the Sultan Tit, and the Little Spider-hunter which buzzed me while I was looking for a different bird entirely. (And many others!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRVGL89Fn8I/AAAAAAAAAhY/PGAsxCYYAac/s1600/_MG_6047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHMo6Mcsmfs/TRVGL89Fn8I/AAAAAAAAAhY/PGAsxCYYAac/s400/_MG_6047.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over the Bight of Bangkok</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It was a great birding expedition, and I cannot stress enough what a great guide Tony "Eagle-Eye" was. I do hope I can talk Beth into making the long trip to Thailand in the future, and that we can both spend a couple of days birding under Tony's expert eyes. I'd love to be able to bring our friend and fellow birder Adam Kent along, too, and share the experience with him and put Adam's birding acumen to the test.<br />
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</div>John Nolley IIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16540760057639137699noreply@blogger.com0