In the summer, the sun barely sets in Anchorage. North of the Arctic Circle -- where this photo was snapped around 11pm one summer evening (by Brandon Serna) -- it doesn't set.
However, in winter it is cold and dark. So I'm headed to Del Boca Vista for a few weeks.
Blogging will commence when I return.
Yep.
Only a few more months.
My father and my uncle standing at the foot of my great-grandfather's house in what used to be Armstrong's Corner, New Brunswick.
How cool is this new film scanner? Click the extended entry to see the detail...
Mayhill, New Mexico.
I've been scanning in old negatives lately. This one is from a trip through Vermont a few years ago.
Pronounced like size-six, rather than physics.
Today is 07-07-07...
The sun is setting on my Mojave Desert adventure. In a short while I'll be hittin' the road and headed to "El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula." I'll be back in Alaska on Tuesday.
Probably not much on the blog until then.
You'd have an amazing sunset photo.
But I didn't. Places to go, things to do. You'll have to enjoy the six o'clock version instead of the eight o'clock version.
And all these photos that I've posted in the past week will get a touch up in Photoshop when I'm back in Alaska. There's a few that could use a little tweak here and there.
This one is a little overexposed. With a digital camera, that's bad.
The road winds through the Devil's Playground Wash near Kelso, California.
I met Lester and his girl in Baker, California. He was trying to fry an egg on the ground in the parking lot of Bob's Big Boy.
Did it work?
...on Route 66.
Ludlow, California.
There are five four states that I have never visited.
Oregon.
Washington.
Nevada.
Utah.
Idaho.
I figure I'll start saving my leave when I get back, and take a big roadtrip through the last four in two years.
The temperature in Death Valley on Saturday was in the ballpark of 121°F.
That's hot.
A desert spiny lizard. I think.
It was hanging out in the old school building in Rhyolite, Nevada.
I never saw a badger before. Not the greatest photo.
I'm just bragging that I saw a badger this weekend.
Not quite happy with this one.
I'm going to have to find me another cactus.
What's left of Rhyolite, Nevada.
The dunes near Stovepipe Wells, just before sunset.
A coyote near Furnace Creek in Death Valley.
I'm in Lancaster, and I'll be visiting Death Valley.
Strangely, there's no antelopes. Probably too hot: it'll be 97°F every day this week.
UPDATE 18 NOV 2006: Check here for more on our trip to Tightwad.
So my roadtrip buddy -- Darf-man -- decides he's gonna pack up and move to middle-of-nowhere Australia. I've had friends threaten to do such a thing. With Darf, I had no doubt he'd eventually be living down-under. Note the anti-kangaroo defenses on the front of the car. Cool.
UPDATE 18 Nov 2006: Check here for more on the trip to Tightwad.
Road trips have always appealed to me. As a kid, vacations always had their genesis in the Dawson Family Truckster. From our home in New York, we traveled up and down I-95 from the Canadian border to Florida.
Traveling by air is quicker, but the only scenery is the back of the seat in front of you. A road trip allows you, quite literally, to see where you're going. Getting there is half the fun.
I also enjoy the independence of being behind the wheel, or at least riding shotgun. There are major attractions, unusual stops, educational and historical sites, and scenic wonders to be taken in. Where next? Priorities are set, and decisions are made, and a course is plotted. One hundred miles down the road something unique catches your eye, and the plans are adjusted. In a way, it's a bit like surfing from link to link across the web, except at 55 70 100 mph.
When Darf and I set out on the big 28 state road trip in 2003 we put Tightwad, Missouri on our list of destinations. The original plan was to open a checking account at the Tightwad Bank. Unfortunately, there was no longer a "Tightwad Bank." I didn't see the point in opening an account in the Tightwad Branch of UMB Financial. On top of that, the bank's office was closed. The drive-thru was open, and we were able to liberate a few souvenir key chains.
A local remarked that she found it funny when tourists stopped to take photos of the city limits sign. We were a little frustrated that Tightwad didn't have a post office, and after a quick stop at the general store we headed out towards St. Louis.
Earlier that day we witnessed a Pontiac Firebird going the wrong way on Highway 71. Considering we were in the city of Peculiar, it shouldn't have been a surprise.
My buddy Darf and I stumbled across this gem in Mount Vernon, Illinois a few years ago, about half-way through our 28 state road trip. We needed to fuel up the Darf-mobile, and pulled into a gas station right along side this beauty.
There was a tall lanky fellow walking across the parking lot decked out in an ankle-length trench coat [with ruffles], a "shirt" made of what looked like fishnet, and some heavy mascara. Inquiring about the car and its owner, he directed me to see Beefie, who was running a register inside the gas station.
I asked Beefie [or Beefy? I didn't ask about the spelling] if I could take a few snapshots of his Picaso-on-wheels. He didn't seem to understand why someone would want to photograph the vehicle. Is it possible that this poetry in motion was not so much an extension of the Beef-man's personality, but merely a means of transportation?
I asked the Beef-meister if I could snap a quick portrait of him, and his eyes lit up. "Lemme show ya my ink!"
Have you ever stumbled across a Muffler Man in your travels? Roadside America has an entire web portal dedicated to tracking the elusive giants, which can be found in almost all of the lower 48 states.
Technically, this guy in the photo to the right is considered a "lumberjack" or "Bunyan" -- a subspecies of the classic Muffler Man. You probably didn't know it, but there's a diverse fiberglass ecosystem out there along the nation's highways and byways. You've got Uniroyal Gals, Happy Halfwits, Big Chiefs, and some strange mutants.
This bad boy towers over the Anne Arundel County Fairgrounds in Crownsville, Maryland. I snapped this shot two years ago [almost to the day].
Sadly, there are no known Muffler Men here in Alaska. Probably for the best. The environmentalists would be complaining that they frightened the caribou during breeding season.
I can't say I'd blame them -- having one of these monsters look in on you would be a total mood killer.
Back in the summer of 2003, my buddy Darf and I embarked on a 28 state roadtrip. Darf was excited to put the pedal to the metal in Montana, where he believed there was no speed limit.
What he was envisioning is the period in the late 1990s when the daytime speed limit in Montana was "reasonable and prudent." After a few years, someone challenged a speeding ticket, and it went all the way to the state Supreme Court. The court struck down the "reasonable and prudent" speed limit, claiming it was too vague. It took several months for the state to come up with a numerical speed limit; for the next five months or so, there was actually no daytime speed limit in Montana [outside of urban areas]. In 1999, Montana settled on 75 miles per hour, and they've been out of the news ever since.
75 MPH is where the speed limit stood when Darf and I made our way to Big Sky Country. We cruised south from Billings towards the Wyoming border at what seemed like a reasonable and prudent speed. With the sun shining, the top down, and the radio blasting out some tunes, who would dare disagree?
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