High Times In San Jose

Each Friday, I have to check out of my little bungalow in Carmel.  Hotels, motels, bed and breakfasts or anything more luxurious than a pup tent is usually booked months and sometimes a year in advance.  Sometimes it's events over at Luna Seca or perhaps an art or film festival but at any rate, rooms are at a premium there on the weekends.

So, with the Carmel room situation at hand, I usually leave the office Friday afternoon, zip up the road to San Jose, grab a hotel room at the Hampton Inn, exchange the rental car and generally hold up there until Sunday when I return back to the Carmel and the Monterey Bay.

Friday evening, when I went out to eat, I found an inordinate amount of police (mostly motorcycle cops) hanging around the shopping center near the hotel.  Thinking it seemed a bit weird seeing lots of Cop bikers in different uniforms, I speculated on the reason but never came up with a definitive answer.

As an added benefit, the people in the room on one side of me played salsa music well into the night and the couple on the other side had a domestic dispute accented with yelling, crying and door slamming, all of which was in Spanish rendering it completely unintelligible to me.

This morning, as I filled up the car just before going to the airport, I noticed the streets filled with bikers and even more cops.  As I turned onto Kurtner toward the freeway, I could see lots of biker types entering a funeral home and cemetery nearby.  At that point, I guessed it was some kind of biker funeral.

As it turns out, the Hells Angels president had been mortally wounded over at a casino in Sparks, Nevada last month and they were finally getting around to having his funeral.  Let me see a hand of those who do not see trouble coming here.  Yep, it sure did.  Before that thing was over there had been another shooting at the funeral resulting in another Angel getting his one way ticket punched.  Who couldn't see that coming?

I could have gone up to San Francisco or Oakland but hearing the news of Occupy Wall Street demonstrations and Bart protests, I thought it best not to go into the inner city.  I just didn't need to get arrested as an innocent bystander.  Maybe a few years ago, I'd have been compelled to check it out but not today. Besides, traffic was horrible in the area.

With that, I'm glad I had elected to visit the Pumpkin Festival at Half Moon Bay and get caught in a couple of hours worth of a traffic jam.  Tonight, I'll reflect on my better choices and try not to make a spectacle of myself as I watch the half dozen or so Hells Angels toying with their Harleys down in the Hotel parking lot.  While I see no one openly carrying fire arms, some wear knives in scabbards looking as big as a Roman Short sword.

Tomorrow, I'll be anxious to head back to Carmel where the most dangerous thing there is getting run over by someone's dog on the beach.

Rest In Peace, Jo Ann, rest in peace.

Rest in peace, Jo Ann. Rest in Peace.

November 23, 1948 - October 9, 2011

 

 

Mission San Carlos Borromeo del Rio Carmelo

Awakened by the shrill squawkings of a murder of crows intimidating a flock of seagulls,  I could see daylight coming through the open air balcony of my room.  The air was cool, crisp and without the sometimes present early morning fog.  Since the hotel room does not have air conditioning, slithering and creeping things are rare, so Darlene and I spend the nights with the sliding glass door open.

Taking advantage of the early light, I slipped my jeans and boots on, made my way down to the car and headed south through the somewhat rough, hilly and darkened streets toward the Carmel Mission.

Carmel is noted for a lack of streetlights, traffic signals and curbed residential streets.  At one time, the town had some pretty unusual laws.  One being that it is against the law to wear shoes with heals greater than two inches in height without a permit.  The streets are so uneven, the city was simply trying to avoid lawsuits from those twisting ankles.  I understand the law is rarely if ever enforced now but if you're nervous about it, permits are granted free of charge.  At one time, it was illegal to sell or eat ice cream on public streets but that and other strange regulations were overturned when Clint Eastwood and his town council took office back in the 1980s.

A few blocks south of center of town, there is a very distinctive old mission that was founded  Father Junípero Serra in 1770.  When the padre passed away in 1784, he was buried in it.  I had passed Mission San Carlos Borromeo del Rio Carmelo several times and one of my co-workers had told me a little of the history of it.  Each time I pass by, I'm fascinated by the dome and at night, with the right conditions, you can see the rising moon floating above it.

As I began taking pictures this morning, the parish faithful slowly began to arrive, so I did not approach the interior of the structure, saving that venture for a later and more appropriate time.

Carmel-by-the-sea, California

I'm finally getting around to updating my travels over the past few months.  After spending a very hot summer in Shreveport, La with temperature in the triple digits for days on end, it was nice to work in New Roads, LA.  Although it was a 60 mile drive one way each day, it was wonderful sleeping in my own bed for 3½ weeks.

Oh well, break's over.  Well it's not that bad because I've landed in Carmel-by-the-sea, California.  This very unique place is well known for attracting the rich and famous - and of course, me.  Carmel is a very dog friendly town and have been told that sometimes borders on the ridiculous side.  I noticed  a George Rodrigue (he's from Lafayette, LA) gallery with Tiffany pictures in the window.  Old time movie actress, Doris Day pretty much started all the fuss.

I even managed to eat at the next table to Clint Eastwood a couple of nights ago.  No, I didn't hound him for a handshake, autograph or a cheesy photo.  No one else seemed to make a big deal out of it so I figured I'd go along with it.  Actually, it was at his Mission Ranch Restaurant.  I heard he would show up there on occasions but it caught me completely off guard when he pulled up a chair with a group of friends next to the table with me and my two dinner companions.

Feeling that I might not be here for a while, I've invited my wife up next weekend to stay a while so it was appropriate that I scout out places I wanted to show her.  This afternoon, I drove south on Highway 1 along the sometimes foggy coast.  Occasionally, pulling over to take in the sights of wildflowers, hearing sea lions bark  and snapping a few pictures while I watched a California Condor glide the up draft and eventually perch on a ridge high above me.

Driving further south onto Big Sur, I drove under some big Redwoods and with the sunroof open, smelled the ever present Eucalyptus trees.  One of the highlights was recognizing the Bixby Creek Bridge that we have all seen in commercials and movies.  Completed in 1932, it spans over a deep gorge and is an imposing part of the landscape.

Further south, I enjoyed getting out and walking down a trail at the Julia Pheiffer Burns State Park to a very controlled stroll that overlooked the McWay Falls.  I say controlled because you must stay on the trail and going down to the beach just doesn't happen.

Figuring I should get back to my hotel in Carmel, I arrived near sundown to see the sun casting a warm glow on a gingerbread style house behind the inn.  While not all the houses in Carmel look like this, the "cottage" look is what makes the place their own.

Line In the Sand....um..grass!

...or How Petty Can I Be?

Perhaps the summer has been too long and hot or it could be that I've been working near or from home the past couple of months.......but....my new neighbor is getting next too me.

We've been in these modest digs for 6 years now which makes us some of the "old timers" of this zero lot-line neighborhood.  The guy on one side is an original too and we get along.  Sometimes when he's out on vacation, I've been known to edge and mow his yard.  He's the sort of guy that will sometimes run the weed eater around the side of his house adjacent to my property.

The home on our other side has suffered a troubled past.  It's been on the market twice and the latest resident has signed a lease-purchase agreement with the second owner.  That means it will probably be vacant within a year.

Maybe I'm being a little petty here - well yes, very petty - but our new neighbor is the kind that simply will not edge around his own home much less along side our house which is technically on his dirt.  There are two foot high weeds growing up around his deck and between the houses.  Increasingly so, he has moved his mowing space further and further away from the property line which throws the responsibility of mowing around the cluster of meter boxes and street light pole to me.  All summer long, I edged around those boxes, kept it clear for meter readers and went the extra mile treating fire ants in his front yard.


Call it what you like but I see it as him drawing a line in the sand...well...maybe the St Augustine, expecting me to continue doing what he should be doing.   So, not to be outdone, when I mowed this past time, I left a 6 inch strip between where he stopped and where I stopped.  Next time around, I will move it another foot back toward the line until I've re-established the true property line in the grass.  Oddly enough, it's not stealing anything tangible but it is stealing my time and violating unwritten patterns of responsibility for hopeful property owners.  My time, equipment and sweat is just as valuable as a man at least 20 years my junior.

Home

Even though Delta Airlines probably misses me, I really shouldn't complain.  Really.

It's only August and I've seen some amazing places already this year and who knows what is to come.  However, for the past couple of months, I've been fortunate enough to work semi-local from Hot Springs, Arkansas, New Iberia, Louisiana and for the past 4 weeks, I've been in Shreveport.  All within driving distance leaving me close enough to get home almost every weekend.


This morning, realizing that Darlene did not have her favorite coffee creamer, I dressed and took a leisurely ride into Prairieville.   I could have used the rental but, there was a Harley in the garage.  A no brainer in my book.  I was careful not to make too much noise riding through the neighborhood and irritating the honest folk of eastern Ascension Parish.

Due to the fog and humidity, visibility was maybe 500 yards at best and there was hardly any traffic riding up Bluff Road save a pick-up or two and a lone bicyclist whom I imagined felt smug and maybe a little superior knowing he was out burning calories on two wheels and I wasn't.  Crossing a tributary to Alligator Bayou and riding easily through the tunnel of overhanging Live Oak limbs draped with Spanish Moss, I disturbed a Blue Crane and an Egret who who sought only to give me a wide berth.

There was something special about the peacefulness of it all that made me glad, proud and blessed to be home, home in south Louisiana.

New Iberia

I've spent the past week in and about New Iberia, Louisiana.  It's a nice little town, passionate about itself and very protective of it's own.

Here's a few shots I've taken over the week.

Shotgun row houses in New Iberia

As I stood on the banks of a pond near Jefferson Island, I thought how lucky the birds were to have me taking their pictures with a camera.  Had I been John James Audubon, I'd have simply blown them out of the sky with a shotgun and then proceeded to record their image on canvas and paper.

Jefferson Island Roseate Spoonbill

Jefferson Island White Ibis

Jefferson Island Cattle Egret

A stern warning

Life goes on

For the past couple of weeks, I have been plagued with laptop problems.  Twice, I've taken it to some supposed geek of sorts complaining it would not turn on.  Once, I laid it up on the counter while telling my woes, then pushed the off/on button as we watched it come on immediately.  Another geek let me leave it at his place only to call me back in an hour telling me nothing was wrong with it.  He was not shy about billing me $25 for his diagnosis.  It has gotten progressively worse.

Being the suspicious anti-geek that I am, managed to back up the old laptop on an external drive before it got on another fit of non performance and turned belly up. It appears dead for sure.

Laptops (from my experience) have an age like dogs.  Some say that dogs have 1/7 the lifetime of a human so if that is correct, the average lifespan of a Dell laptop should be relatively 25 to one.  That made my machine the human equivalent to 82 years.

I realize I am not a computer guru and really don't understand the gut works of the laptop but I'm not a complete idiot either, so I went online and bought another Dell at what I thought was a bargain price.  Once I opened it I realized how many settings and programs I had accumulated and went about customizing the new one.  I was so indulged in getting the new computer up and running that even my wife made snarky remarks about my passion.

Now, it appears I need to find a fitting and proper burial place for the Dell Inspiron 1545 before the Geek Squad comes and have me charged with computer abuse.  The SPCA would have you arrested if you failed to take care of your horse and seek medical assistance if it developed a tumor.  It's not a far stretch to think there must be a violation somewhere out there in geekdom.

Honestly, I de-fragged it a couple of times and had some decent (free) virus protection.  I promise.

Summer's Here Already

Summer seems to have arrived already and it's not happy!   At least in Hot Springs, Arkansas, where I've been working for the past week and will be through June 10.

I"m naturally drawn to water and moving water in particular but the south has been in near drought conditions for the past few months and many streams that normally are flowing, now are reduced to a trickle.

This morning, I trekked up a hilly trail at Lake Catherine State Park just south of  Hot Springs where the heat had already gotten to the low nineties by 9:00 AM.  By the time I found the falls (or what's left of them) the combination of the hills, temperature and my way out of shape condition had me huffing, puffing and sweating.

Wading in the pool below the falls was a refreshment I shared with a some adults, a dozen kids and a Golden Labrador Retriever who had taken the short and not so rugged trail.

It was a good to get out, clear the cobwebs from my mind and get in some much needed exercise. 

After my Mom's family reunion, hopefully I will be able to get home a few days and exercise Old Boudreaux as well.

Still dry so far.

The east side of the Mississippi River in Louisiana is still dry at this point.  Not being at home, I'm constantly thinking about Louisiana every time I turn on the TV in the hotel room.  My wife says there are sand boils on or near the levee on River Road just south of LSU but she's confident that they will not rupture.  My heart goes out to the folks north of us and on the west side near the Atchafalaya.

Here's a link to compelling photos of the flood from up in Mississippi down into Louisiana. (click here)  

Some of my favorite photos

Click here for a small representation of my favorite photos.

http://lenseyeflash.blogspot.com/

End Of The World Kit

Combined with growing up with frugal self sufficient parents or being trained in my early teens by a really wacky scout master, I've developed a penchant for self survival.  Beginning at the age of 13 our scout master in the Boy Scouts of America, troop 16 in Farmerville, LA, would take several of us off into the Bayou D'Arbonne or Bayou De Loutre on weekend trips into the woods armed with little more than a sleeping bag, hatchet, knife and a cigar box full of survival essentials.  I suppose these lessons of life have carried over to my advanced age.

In the past 10 years, I've traveled most of the 50 states and have been part of natural disasters ranging from hurricanes/tropical storms in Florida, landing in blizzards in Minnesota and Michigan, dodging tornadoes in Alabama and Tennessee and feeling the earth beneath my feet turn to jelly during an earthquake on Maui.

Each of these events often have one thing in common; loss of power and essential services.  So with this in mind, I have collected a few items I always carry in the trunk of the car.  Of course seasons and geography usually change what I have but for the most part my core End Of The World Kit remains the same.  It includes:

• A backpack with extra socks, underwear and a pack of beef jerky.
• Small first aid kit 
• Aspirin, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, anti-diarrheal tablets and Zycam
• Toothbrush with dental floss
• Hydrocortisone, anti-bacterial ointment and chapstick
• Halizone water purification tablets
• A magnesium fire starter with steel wool to catch sparks. Also a magnifying glass to start fires and to read small print.
• Folding pocket scissors, razor blades, multi-tool, screwdrivers, pliers, electrical tape and a Swiss Army Knife
• Disposable plastic gloves, 2 space blankets for heat, head net protection from insects and a lightweight disposable hooded poncho
• Needle and thread
• A compass, several hundred dollars cash, extra identification and a road atlas
• Depending on the season or the area, there will good walking shoes, caps, gloves and jacket.
• In the winter (places like North Dakota, Minnesota, etc.) I usually make sure I have plenty of water in the car with a couple those large 24 hour candles. ( You don't leave your car in a blizzard )

Can I survive indefinitely with this supply? No, but I have a better chance of waiting it out until help arrives or have the tools to break in (hey, it's survival) to where food, shelter and creature comforts exist.



Slightly related to all this paranoia, is how I leave a few things in the room during the night.  Usually, I will drop my room key, car keys, wallet, pocket knife and shoes by the hotel room door.  My reasons are that if a fire started during the night or other emergencies happen, I won't have to fumble around in the dark to find things to make a hasty departure.  Also, if I carry my electronic room key with me, I do not carry it in the sleeve they give me if my room number is written on it.  If you are robbed or it is stolen, you don't want the thief knowing where you are staying and beating you back to your room for other booty. It is worth mentioning, I usually try to not let my gas level get below a half tank just in case of wide spread power loss rendering electric gas pumps useless.

Call it how you like but that's how it works for me.

Bin Laden

Today, President Obama said that photos and videos showing a dead Osama Bin Laden would not be released.  Many pundits on both sides of the fence cranked up the political posturing and set forth a barrage of what could be a firestorm of conspiracy theories.  I personally could care less whether the photos emerge or not.

However, I do find certain things curious about the controversy.  Many who do not want the photos released seem to fear a Muslim backlash were the very ones demanding or applauding the release of photos from Abu Ghraib prison.  Most likely to serve as an embarrassment to the Bush administration.  Let's face it, radical Muslims will hate us regardless of the released photos and are hell bent on killing us long before a photo of any kind emerged.

On another note, Many who want the photos released say it will counter the conspiracy theories that have already begun to rise.  If that is true, there are photos and videos of the lunar landing, the Kennedy assassination and 9-11 itself that have had no effect in dispelling theories.  Apparently, the administration did not have a concise plan on the stories told and there seems to be conflicts on the time of the raid, whether Bin Laden was armed or was hiding behind women in his compound.  Naturally, every time a story changes, it only fans the flames of the conspiracy theorists. We can look forward to the next few months of nasty debates on this matter.

Whatever the outcome, some things probably are better off just not shown. The cell phone video of the hanging of Saddam Hussein was released but for the sake of human decency's sake should have never surfaced but like the gruesome photos of interment camps at the end of World War II, they will be part of history and serve to rally the sentiments of generations to come.

Storming In Tennessee

Last night, I was at the Wal-Mart store in Decherd, TN buying some office supplies when the store manager came dashing around exclaiming that a tornado was near and we should all huddle near the center of the store.  Sure enough, all the lights went out and folks were all crowded around in the clothing section listening to the rain and hail hit the thin roof. I began to text family and friends, letting them know of my predicament.  My wife texted back, saying to get away from the hardware and things that could become airborne if the roof tore off.  I responded that I was hunkered down with two fat gals between rows of women's underwear and asked if that was soft enough. I received no other response.

After about 30 minutes, I began to think that staying in a thin metal building with a thin roof might not be such a hot idea so I made an executive decision to seek shelter in my hotel (20 miles north) and bolted for the car.  Being mutilated with 100 complete strangers in a Wal-Mart store just wasn't what I thought the end would be like.

Within the first 10 minutes, I began to question my logic when water overflowing from the ditches caused me to hydroplane a few times. When the hail began, I also wondered if I would be responsible for the dings on the rental car but my decision was now in play.  I had to re-track once because of downed trees but got there in about 40 minutes. Once back to the hotel, I congratulated myself on the choice but recounted the possibilities if I had met a tornado on Tennessee highway 127.

While I thought that was pretty bad, I found out later that nearly two hundred people had lost their lives just south of me down in Alabama.  A friend from Birmingham sent me a message that he was all right and that he had spent the early evening huddled in his bathroom playing cards with Miss Biscuit (his cocker spaniel) but had lost the game.

It was truly a destructive event and pray for those who were not as fortunate as myself.

Easter

As I came out of the large auditorium with several hundred people, I found myself directly behind two young women dressed in mid thigh skirts and spiked heels. The shoes made clicking sounds on the concrete floor and the thin material swayed sensuously as they made their way through the crowd toward the outer doors. At the doors the outside light made their clothing almost translucent revealing their shape and form. That was Easter morning at a very large and popular church in Baton Rouge.

Not that I'm being judgmental on the attire or being speculative of the lives of the ladies but it did give me pause and reflect how things have changed over the past 60 years.  They were by no means the only ones caught up this display of  corporeal beguilement.
I remember as a young boy, Sunday services were held in a little one room church house with eight windows without screens, two back doors and a front door without the benefit of electricity or running water.  While it wasn't exactly written in stone, women and children generally sat on the left side and men on the right on home crafted wooden pews.  I don't think you could ever describe anything as "sensual" in anyone's appearance and the "Sunday" clothes were reserved for weddings, funerals and church. Music, depending on the congregation, could have been supplied by an out of tune piano, possibly a guitar and depending on the group, singing a capella.  Yes, to an eight year old it was boredom in the purest sense and tempered only by the sometime wasps that may fly in and out of the window.

Fast forward to 2011 where you may find, in some occasions, modesty has completely been thrown out the window and dress down is rule of thumb and if a man can ignore the tight jeans, short skirts and abbreviated tops, he is a better man than I. Music is complimented with a light show that could rival an Elton John national tour and if you can't hear the words you might believe you were at the Hard Rock Cafe.  Mixing boards and controls are of the highest state.

Somehow, I find myself lost in the transition and fight daily to make sense of the distractions and figure out where I am in all of this and wonder what is to become of us as people and how will God judge us on the perversion.

The Lesson of the Moon Pie

A couple of weeks ago, I rode into town seeing gas in the $3.49 range and within a week, I was seeing $3.63-3.66 all around me. That was a wake up call to the fact that we are INDEED being hit with inflation.

When Gas prices go up, we can expect it to effect everything else from the shoes on our feet to the food at the store because it's all delivered to the final destination by a truck and that truck uses gas.

Here's another way I've seen it sneak up on me.  After having a decent meal in a little mom and pop restaurant in Decherd, Tennessee today, I was riding back to the office when the urge for something sweet hit me so I popped into a little convenience store, looked around for something to satisfy the sweet tooth and grabbed an old standby favorite, a Moon Pie.  I've been eating those things all my life but it's been a while since I have gotten one.  Walking up to the counter, I'm thinking this thing could hit me for anywhere between 59 and 79¢. The guy at the counter didn't even blink when he said, "Uh dollah an' seb'm cents, please."  Wow, my 59¢ good ole Moon Pie, with tax, is now $1.07?

The government has been denying that there  is significant inflation by choosing different reporting and calculating criteria.  But when my Moon Pie takes a 50% jump in price, now that's inflation.

I'm wondering how long a short term certificate of deposit at the bank can last below 1% now with the government (digitally) printing money at a record clip?  Hang on to your hats folks, this thing could get nasty.

Warm Spring Day In Tennessee

While yesterday was less than wonderful with temperatures ranging from the high 30s to the low 50s with gray skies, today was a gorgeous day. 

This afternoon, I explored local things near my hotel. One being something called the Old Stone Fort which is really an Indian mound but that's another story.

I walked some trails along the Duck River, managing to only fall flat of my face only once without breaking me or my camera. The tragedy could have been sliding off a 25 foot cliff into the waters.  It didn't look that deep but it was probably pretty cold and I wasn't ready for a swim.


Wild flowers were coming out along the rivers edge causing bugs to be out as well. While lying on the ground taking close-up pictures of some flowers, I had the uneasy feeling I was being watched.  I snapped off a couple of frames, slowly go up and saw a couple of Geezers (that would be someone my age or older) looking at me as if I were some kind of (please be kind in the comment section) nut.  I got up and nodded to them as if I were doing something important and headed back up the trail.  I suppose they don't see people wallowing around on the ground eye level to a dandelion very often.

It was a nice day.  I think there's even a full moon out tonight.

30 years ago, April 10

It's hard to believe how fast 30 years passes.  Little did we know how the roads would twist and turn as we started this journey which had no map or destination.

Tennessee

In case you had not noticed, I'm working in middle Tennessee and staying in Manchester.  When I arrived a week ago today, the gas station across the street from the hotel had prices of $3.49.  I have seen them raise prices twice in the last week up to $3.62 and three cents higher at the next exit.

April Fools

I wear hats much of the time

..these days and standing in the grocery store in Lenoir, North Carolina, intently reading the label on a jar, I felt a light tug on my jacket and turned to see a small older woman with tight curls in her thin blond (Clairol) hair.  She had this weird little impish grin on her face as she asked me without any introduction, "Do you know what kind of man wears the biggest hat?"

As my mind whirled trying to figure out if this was an off color joke or maybe just being a busy body attempting to make a point, I finally decided to bite and ask, "No Ma'am, I sure don't."
She gives me this Goober Pyle smile and blurts out, "The man with the biggest head!"

"OK..," I'm thinking, "What's this all about?"  I gave a nervous little laugh as my eyes darted around looking for the TV cameras.  If I had any notoriety at all, I would be looking for an Ashton Kutcher Punk'd crew hanging out but this is in hard core Mayberry RFD territory and wasn't likely.

With no film crews visible, I then began looking for an escape route down one of the aisles in case she pulled an ice pick or Beretta from her purse but just before I took flight, she perked up and said, "Made you laugh, didn't I?"

I nervously chuckled, "Yes ma'am, you did."  They say some folks laugh when they don't know what else to say or do and I was still looking for an escape route.

Still smiling, she perked up again, blinked her eyes and told me "Bye!", as she ambled off down by the pasta.

This Mayberry thing is going to take a little more "getting used to."

Spring is bursting out all over

As the buds begin to pop open and little creatures come out to play in the sun, so do the denizens of Lenoir, North Carolina.  Warm temperatures and shiny days bring the best out in everyone.  Reminiscent of times 50 years ago, the spirit of Andy, Barney and the characters of Mayberry burst forth with innocence as you hear gospel singing in restaurants and warm greetings between the street sweeper and shop keepers addressing each other by their first names.

Almost script like, the mannerisms of this small town, where hosiery companies and furniture lords once prospered, takes you back to kinder and gentler times.  With deep fried southern accents all the norm, you almost want to believe it's all a hoax and somehow you've been caught up in some corny play or a glitch in a time machine but the charm is very real and I like to think the world is a better place for communities like this.


Perhaps, I'll be working here another few weeks but it will take much more time than that to grow an affinity for livermush (look it up) and Carolina styled barbecue. 

Super Moon

While in Raleigh, North Carolina, this weekend, I slipped out to take a shot at the Super Moon.  It's trajectory brings it closer to Earth than it has in 18 years.  Fear mongers were crawling out of the woodwork, predicting more earthquakes, tidal waves, and natural disasters bigger than Al Gore's global warming head.

I admit, the moon would have looked better had there been some other objects in the frame with it but there simply wasn't anything near me that would have worked.  Plus, I really needed something in the 1000 mm range to make it really work.

On a tripod, Nikon D60, 200 mm digital (equivalent to a 300 mm in film cameras), ISO 100, Aperture 5.6, shutter speed of 1/500 second.  Cropping was necessary.

In North Carolina

A couple of weeks ago, I said adieu to Sonoma, California wine country and headed east to North Carolina.

Being in North Carolina.  Pros: the food is down home and folks here do not have that much of accent.  Who am I kidding, they think I talk like a Yankee.  Cons: the hardwood vegetation hasn't developed it's green yet and it's hard to find something that isn't gray.

This has been the first weekend I've had free to roam so I spent most of it hiking through some of the parks along the Blue Ridge Parkway such as Linville Falls. Waterfalls, yep there are a few.  I've hiked so much, my bunions are complaining but it's been very nice.

The falls on the right were only .7 miles from the parking lot but the experience gave me an intimate knowledge of North Carolina's rock, mud and tree root system.

From the Blue Ridge Parkway

Near Linville Falls

I am a fan of Timothy Allen

If I could go back and change a few turns in my life, this is how (at least on the surface) I would have done it. 

In 1993, after receiving a degree in zoology at Leeds University, Timothy Allen spent 3 years traveling Indonesia before signing onto an aid convoy to Bosnia for a report while working toward another degree in photography.  Six months later, he dropped out of school and began working with the Sunday Telegraph.  Through a series of changes, he has worked all around the globe.

If you have 7½ minutes, entertain yourself with collection of some amazing photography.

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-12618167

 If you have even more time, here's a a lot more.