Road Trip! Part 3: Don't Be A Playa Hata.

At 6 the next morning, the first rays of the sun hit me in the face, and looking out over the still-shadowed playa, I could see the last crescent of the waning moon hanging in the orange sky, with the brilliant dot of Jupiter nearby.

It was cold, so cold the my sleeping bag was coated lightly with frost. But at least the sky was still clear. The forecast was for a high in the mid-60s and already the sun was making an appreciable difference in the temperature.

By the time we cracked open our bags and made coffee, the day was getting much nicer, especially since the wind was fairly light. We decided to start the day with a walk up the canyon.

It had been a wet spring in the Black Rock and the desert flora 

were exceptionally lush, with wildflowers everywhere.

There was even running water in the normally dry creek bed. 

Which explained the frogs we'd heard the night before.

Frog heaven.

As we got deeper in, the walls of the canyon got steeper.

Steve took lots of great shots.

Eventually the path was blocked by a jumble of boulders and brush, 

and we had to turn back, but it was a stimulating way to start the day.

Fields of buckwheat shimmered in the increasing wind.

We packed up our camp and headed for Planet X, an art gallery 

and ceramic shop run by some people Steve knows. They were having a show 

and sale, complete with delicious barbequed snacks.

After Planet X, we headed for Black Rock playa. It's a huge area of about 1000 square miles,
so amazingly flat that it has been used for two successful attempts at the world's land speed
record, including the 1997 run by ThrustSSC, which broke the sound barrier at 766 mph.

We didn't drive quite that fast, but it is very surreal driving on this 

flat, monochrome surface with no nearby landmarks or points of reference.

It's an eerie, magnificent place.

In the late afternoon, the skies began to cloud over and though the air was definitely warmer,

 the wind was picking up again.  The ring around the sun is usually not a good sign. But the
forecast still called for 70s on Tuesday, so we had hope. We decided to return to
Smoke Creek to spend the night, since the campsites there were less exposed.

 

 We visited usually dry Smoke Creek, which was full of water and home 

to several families of ducks.

There were extensive wetlands around the edge of the playa.

 Shore birds were happily probing the muck.

 The Smoke Creek playa was alive with dust devils, and the car and all our gear was soon 

covered in dust.

We found a campsite and settled in, but the weather was not cooperating. 

The skies were gloomy and the wind was intense at times.

By sunset the clouds had broken up a little, but the colors were far more subdued. 

It was clear that we weren't gong to get a repeat of the previous night's
spectacular light show, but it was still beautiful in its own way..

Next post: A bad day at Black Rock.

For another take on this day, and some great pictures, check out Steve's blog.

P.

Road Trip! Part 2: Heads In The Clouds.

I waited for Steve in front of Bruno's Casino in Gerlach, our appointed rendezvous point. I was about 45 minutes early since I had forgotten to allow for the change from Mountain time. So I pointed the car facing the approach road and read, looking up every time a car came into town. Since this happened only about every ten or fifteen minutes, I wasn't worried about missing him.

Until an hour and a half went by and still no Steve. I called him, but there was no answer, so I figured he was still out of cell coverage. Since I got cell coverage only for a short distance around Gerlach itself, I wasn't surprised. So I waited some more.

Finally I was beginning to get concerned. Just then, I heard Steve call my name. I turned around and saw him walking out of Bruno's! How had he gotten there? Yes, there was his car. How had he gotten by me? If you've read Steve's blog, you know the answer. He had come into town via back roads instead of the main highway. He hadn't checked his phone and hadn't noticed me sitting in my car.

Since Steve is an old hand in the Black Rock, I left the choice of where we would camp to him. He had in mind a spot overlooking the Black Rock playa, but the site was very exposed and the wind was fairly intense. We decided to go south of Gerlach to the less-visited Smoke Creek playa and see if we could find a place against the hills that was at least partially sheltered from the wind.

We found this spot overlooking the Smoke Creek playa. It was still pretty windy, 

but the mass of the ridge line cut the force slightly. 

And the view was spectacular.

We bundled up and started setting up camp, using Steve's Range Rover as a windbreak.

We grilled chicken and drank rye whiskey and watched in awe as mountainous formations 

of clouds scudded lightly across the slowly-dimming sky.

As the sun dropped behind our hill, the light show began.

First in dark grays and curdled creams.

 Slowing deepening into soft pinks and oranges.

 Finally bursting into full flame.

That night the wind abated, and the clouds disappeared. The intensely clear desert sky burned with the cold brilliance of thousands of stars and the misty glow of the Milky Way. It promised a better tomorrow.

Next post: At play on the playa.

P.

Road Trip! Part 1: On the Road Again.

O and I have planned for months to go camping over the Memorial Day weekend in the Black Rock desert of Nevada with our friends, Steve and Michele Stern. At the last minute, however, Michele had to accompany her mother on a trip to Ireland. O didn't want to go if Michele wasn't going, so Steve and I decided to go it alone.

That left me with a dilemma. Since we have only one car, how was I going to get there without leaving O stranded for four days? I decided to rent a car, since part of the cost would be defrayed by getting better gas mileage than our SUV can manage. One problem solved.

Then there was the problem of the weather. As the weekend approached, it became increasingly clear that the weather was not inclined to cooperate with our plans. The forecast for most of the weekend was cold, wind, rain, and possible snow. Not ideal camping weather. So the day before we were to leave, Steve suggested that we wait until Sunday to take advantage of a four-day window of better weather. I agreed.

Sunday rolled around and the weather was still unsettled, but it was forecast to clear by the evening. Monday was supposed to be better and Tuesday and Wednesday were forecast to be in the 70s. I got up early, rented a Chevy Malibu and hit the road.

It rained off and on as I drove through the Owyhees, 

then snowed briefly as I crested Blue Mountain pass 

into northern Nevada.

 The scenery was spectacular.

 At about 2, I reached Fernley and turned north toward Gerlach, 

the gateway to the Black Rock desert. 

As I drove parallel to the gorge of the Truckee River, 

I could see huge flights of white birds flying north

toward the vast expanse of Pyramid Lake.

I thought they must be seagulls or egrets, but they turned out to be pelicans, 

thousands of them. An odd sight in the middle of the Nevada desert!

As I drove north, the skies turned darker and more threatening, and the vistas more scenic.

Soon it was raining hard, then hailing.

 Just as I was beginning to worry about the evening's weather, the rain began to taper off.

 I soon emerged into clear skies, leaving the occasional squalls behind.

 And there was Gerlach, nestled at the foot of the Granite mountains, where Steve and I 

were supposed to meet.

Next post: Where is that guy?

Be sure to check Steve's blog for his side of this stirring saga.

P.

Life in the Slow Lane.

Life here in Boise moves a bit slower than was the case in California and Hanoi. That has taken some getting used to. It's especially noticeable in the way people drive here. Not only do they obey the traffic laws (including the speed limits!) but they're almost unfailingly polite when behind the wheel.

For example, every morning I take O to work, then head for the gym. Taking O to work is against traffic, so it's a piece of cake. Getting to the gym, however, puts me in the middle of the morning rush. Said rush is laughable, really, by California standards, let alone compared to Hanoi; it actually takes about two or three minutes longer than it would any other time of the day.

But there's a section where there's a traffic light just before a short stretch of freeway. Just before the light the road widens from one lane to two. Just after the light, the freeway ramp narrows from two lanes to one before opening onto the freeway itself. I know, great traffic flow design. Anyway, there's usually a long line of cars waiting at the signal to get on the freeway. But here's the thing: it's a single line even though there are two lanes!

In California, and certainly in Vietnam, that brief second lane would be filled with people trying to get onto the freeway a few car lengths ahead of their original position in the flow. In Boise, that would be considered rude. No one tries to push their way to the head of the line. They wait their turn.

Weird, but kind of sweet. The place is growing on me.

P.

Coop deVille.

John and Michael have constructed a grand chicken condominium out back for the girls. They seem very happy with their new home.

Chicken delight.

P.

Fine Weather We're Having.

A few days ago it was raining. Then it hailed. Then we got sleet. Not what I want in late May weather, though the hills, just beginning to turn slightly green, looked lovely with a fresh coat of snow.

But today is beautiful. Mid-70s, a gentle breeze, and deep blue skies dotted with puffy white clouds.

Ah, spring!

P.

New Granddaugther Pictures!

Syona has become a tween, and by the looks of it so have these three. It seems only yesterday that they were three little peeping balls of fuzz.

It makes us feel so old.


P.

Sex With Ducks. Apparently It's What's Happening.

They make quite a compelling case.

So does Pat Robertson.

P.

The Angle of Reflection.

I love reflection shots. They are at once mathematically precise (the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection) and impressionistic (how impressionistic depends on the turbidity of the reflective surface). 

They can be part of a landscape.

 Or semi-abstract compositions on their own. 

I love how the slight agitation of the water here resembles brush stokes.

P.

The Long Spring.

It's been a long time getting to spring, and while we're in the full flower of it here in Boise, the higher elevations are still trying to break free of winter's grip. It hit 75 for the first time this year here a few days, and it was great wearing shorts and not carrying a jacket everywhere, but it quickly dropped back into the low 60s.

This weekend O. flew to southern California to see Teresa and her family, and I was feeling a just a bit stir-crazy from being holed up in our cozy, but tiny, apartment for months, so I decided to take a drive to McCall, a mountain resort about a hundred miles north of Boise.

It was a gorgeous drive. The Payette River was in full spring flood.

The forecast called for showers, but though a few drops 

splattered the windshield from time to time, the skies were 

mostly about half clear, with glorious drifts of puffy gray 

and white clouds.

Though the trees were still bare at altitude, these had 

sprouted new branches in bright orange, lending a touch of 

fall color to the greening landsacape.

In McCall itself, at 5500 feet, winter was still in effect. 

There was snow piled everywhere, and Payette Lake 

was still mostly frozen over.

The farmlands north of Weiser were a lush green dotted with 

little yellow flowers and pools of standing water.

And the hillsides were covered with bright yellow drifts of daisies.

Turns out I picked the right day to go, because today it rained most of the day in Boise and it was snowing again in the mountains. Even in May, spring's hold is tenuous. Next week, however, is forecast to be in the 70s. How happy we will be.

P.

Tiptoe Through The Tulips Down The Oregon Trail.

It turns out that our apartment house is built right on the Oregon Trail, just a miles few south and east from the original site of Ft. Boise.

 There's a historical marker in a little park about a block from us.

 As promised, April showers have brought May flowers. 

Full spring is finally here, and there are tulips everywhere

in colors that could put someone's eye out.

All the more beautiful because we've been waiting for it for so long.

P.