Trail and Fog in Oregon

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Millport Slough in Lincoln City, Oregon

Some days ago, I mentioned passing the glassy reflective waters of the Siletz River flowing into the Millport Slough and how, an hour or two later, that pristine mirror was gone due to the lightest of winds. Well, this is the view I was talking about.

Otis Cafe in Lincoln City, Oregon

We got out early this morning for breakfast at the Otis Cafe before the crowd descended on the place, and, maybe more importantly, our upcoming hike this morning requires us to arrive at the trailhead early because the parking lot fills up quickly with its own crowd. I should point out regarding the Otis Cafe: there is no confusion about indulgence and healthy here; it is certainly the former, while the latter has never been served on these tables. It’s all good home cooking, meaning it’s slathered with everything artery-clogging, but if you can afford the pounds and enjoy your fats and sugars in large amounts, Otis has what you need.

Foxglove off Highway 101 in Otis, Oregon

We’ve just passed over the bridge that crosses the Salmon River, which we’ll be seeing again in a couple of hours, but first, more foxglove.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

We’ve arrived at the Lower Cascade Head Trail with only about four other cars in the large lot. By the end of this hike, we’d return to more than 40 vehicles, five of which were driving in circles, looking for someone else to finish their hike on this popular trail.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

There was some hemming and hawing on my part prior to driving out to Knight Park, where this trail begins, because while I’d read great reviews of the Cascade Head hike, there also were those reviews that spoke to my anxiety about rude and loud people on the path. Getting out here before 9:00 worked out perfectly, letting me relax with the fact we were skipping the Cascade Head Rainforest Trailhead back at the intersection of Three Rocks Road and Highway 101 with room for possibly three cars, though we’ve never seen anyone parked there in all the years we’ve driven by.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Part of my kvetching about the trail was because I wanted more rainforest and knew this one reached grassland nearer to the overlook, but I wasn’t sure about the trail before reaching that area. From these images, I hope you can glean how happy I was to be immersed in such luscious shades of green.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Trees with beards might be the epitome of the Oregon hipster vibe.

Deer on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

This is why Caroline and I walk quietly through the forest: these chance encounters with wildlife that wasn’t frightened away long before our arrival. Instead, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, this black-tailed deer was surprised that we’d snuck up on it, and with a mouthful of yummies, it looked up and froze as though now that it saw us, maybe we’d not be able to see her standing still. I thought I saw a fawn moving on my left, so I turned to look at it, which was the cue for Mom to begin her silent slither out of the area.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

So far, others who passed us have been incredibly polite and seriously quiet, too. Plenty of hikers passed us before we ever reached the lower overlook, as we aimed to be the slowest people on the trail today.

Salmonberries on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

While others race by, we are tasting every salmonberry, looking for other things to nibble, and inspecting and grading the quality of the plants we walk by while listening to the songs of the Swainson’s thrushes, Wilson’s warblers, Pacific wrens, Stellar’s jays, and the squirrels with their pew-pew sound of laser weapons.

Turkey Tail Fungus on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

There’s a serious dearth of mushrooms on this trail, which likely has something to do with the dryness of the climate at this time of year. These turkey tails were the only fungi we saw out here, though I’m thinking there might have been one toppled specimen from the Amanita family.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

We’ve reached the lower Cascade Head overlook. On your left is the Salmon River, running into the Pacific on your right.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Some other hikers told us of some elk on that outcropping. We searched as hard as we could with the binoculars but couldn’t find them.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

We continued a little higher but agreed that we needn’t hike to the upper overlook. God’s Thumb is the thumbs-up-like rock on the adjacent outcropping, and below it, where the ocean and the jutting rocks from the sea are, was where we were tide pooling last Saturday when Caroline had her octopus encounter.

Caroline Wise and John Wise on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

I could easily argue that there are not enough selfies of the two of us being posted here, and maybe that would be true, but one here and there suffices as the cameraman doesn’t like losing precious time to include himself. Is my forehead growing? Do I need to start using a combover?

Prairie Mallow on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

As you can see from behind us, there are a lot of wildflowers out on this mountainside. These are prairie mallows.

Ribwort Plantain on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

This intriguing example of plant life among the various grasses is called ribwort plantain.

Milk Thistle on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

I think everyone already knows the famous prickly milk thistle.

Ladybug on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Who doesn’t smile when they look upon a ladybug?

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Having returned to the woods can only mean that we are on our way back to the beginning of the trail because this is an out-and-back hike.

Salmonberries on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

We’ve been eating a lot of berries, including some dark red ones, which might be a variation of the salmonberry.

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Once in the forest, there are nearly no expansive views, but at one of the bridges on the trail that crosses a deeper canyon, you can see the sky over the canopy.

Crane Fly on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

Not as visually appealing as the cute ladybug, the crane fly appears like it could inflict some serious pain but it turns out to be completely harmless.

Foxglove on the Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

What is not harmless is this foxglove, also known as Digitalis purpurea, which contains cardiac glycoside digitoxin. The operative word there that most people should understand is cardiac, meaning of the heart; while foxglove is beautiful, it can have dire effects should it be eaten, such as death. [Digitalis is also a powerful ingredient in heart medications, so it’s not all doom and gloom – Caroline]

Lower Cascade Head Trail in Otis, Oregon

By this time, we’d had close to a dozen other groups pass us and were able to listen to more than half of the herd long before we saw them. There was so much loud chatter I was able to conduct a simple experiment whereby, counting one-second intervals after first hearing the piercing tone of an overly enthusiastic voice, I was able to calculate the decibel level by measuring the distance between the first screech and their crossing of our path. The loudest person was estimated to have a voice that projected 110 decibels of sound based on the 8-second interval I measured. By this time, the birds were gone, the laser weapons of the squirrels were put away, and there were no deer left, which also likely explains why we didn’t see the elk while we were at the overlook.

Handmade spoon from Oregon Driftware in Lincoln City, Oregon

After our hike, we celebrated with lunch back at the Otis Cafe to try their sandwiches, then visited the Lincoln City Farmers Market that takes place on Sundays until 3:00, during the summer anyway. It’s a rare day that something other than food catches my eye at a market, but the craftwork of Brooks McKee and his Oregon Driftware company, where he makes vases, boxes, bowls, and spoons from driftwood, did get my attention. I ended up leaving with this spoon, a small salt bowl, and the tiniest spoon I’ve ever held.

Lincoln City Cultural Center in Lincoln City, Oregon

The farmers market was being held next to the Lincoln City Cultural Center, which Caroline wanted to visit due to their fiber arts and weaving exhibition space. On the very left, you can see a small corner of a loom that’s not so interesting, especially compared to these giant jellyfish made by Rebecca Hooper, a.k.a. the Gypsea Weaver of recycled/retired fishing gear from the Oregon Coast.

Mural at the Lincoln City Cultural Center in Lincoln City, Oregon

There’s a lot to see at the Cultural Center, with private art spaces and rotating gallery exhibits that are part of the mix. [This Sunday was the last day of an annual artist studio event, “Art on the Edge” with a few artists exhibiting works at the center in addition to other studio and gallery spaces. – Caroline] As far as we know, this place is unique here along the shore. This mural is a good ten feet long.

Foggy afternoon on Nelscott Beach in Lincoln City, Oregon

While we were at the Cultural Center and farmers market, we were watching the fog roll in, but just how thick it was we didn’t fully appreciate until we took a walk down Nelscott Beach in Lincoln City.

Depoe Bay, Oregon

We were intrigued by how heavy the fog was, as we rarely, if ever, see afternoon fog rolling in during the fall and winter. This was right at Depoe Bay in front of the long wall where throngs of tourists line up to see the occasional whale surfacing.

Depoe Bay on a foggy, summer day in Oregon

We are about 350 feet (107 meters) from those traffic lights, that’s the extent of visibility when I took these photos.

Deer in Depoe Bay, Oregon

When we got back to the house, someone from Bass Pro Shops had delivered this perfect deer yard ornament. If only that were true, this guy would be going home with us. We’ll miss Elmer and his gal Francine when we go back to Arizona. [I thought it was Bambi and Faline… Caroline]

Fossils on the Oregon Coast

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline Wise at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

This example of a still-mobile older woman walking down the beach proves that human fossils still have a life after 50 years of age. Not only is she capable of getting outside of her routine, here at the cusp of summer on the Oregon coast where it was a brisk 48 degrees (9 Celsius) (though with the wind chill factored in, it felt like 40 degrees (4.5 Celsius)), this fine example of womanhood girded her loins and showed the male of the species how being tough is done. What she forgets is that her mate is at an advanced age of 61 and that has likely mastered the art of the whine, not so much for effect but for the sake of annoying the female, who has shown the kind of thin skin that lets her cringe every time he opens his mouth.

Fossils at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

Oops, I wasn’t supposed to start this post speaking of our own fossilized natures and humor. I was supposed to save that for describing the awesome seashells encased in rock here on Wade Creek Beach.

Bald eagle at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

In a flash, a bald eagle soared overhead, marking the first time Caroline and I had ever seen one of these majestic birds in Oregon.

Fossils at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

Initially, my own half-fossilized brain had more questions than answers when looking at these ancient artifacts from distant times, such as: will I see fish or marine mammal skeletal remains, or why have all of those fossil remnants fallen out of the cliffside that’s overhead? Excitement clouds the brain, or in keeping with the getting old jokes, the elderly mind is clouded by its aged state. Anyway, there are simple, easy answers.

Columnar jointed lava at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

And part of that answer starts right here with the fossilized dinosaur skin. Just kidding, this is what’s known as columnar jointing and can occur from cooling andesite magma. Sorry but I’m not going into a full science lesson to describe it all.

Columnar jointed lava at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

In a nutshell, as lava was flowing to the sea, there were times when ash, mud, or lava was reaching the shore and, at times, further into the ocean. While I’m no expert on such matters, these jointed columns likely used to lie under the sea or being eroded by waves due to their smooth surfaces.

Fossils at Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

The reason we’re only seeing shellfish would be that as the ash and mud were flowing into the nearby waters, they were rolling over the clams, scallops, snails, mussels, and barnacles that couldn’t move out of the way. As for the plant life that would have been covered in such a grave, I do not know why there is no visual record of their previous existence. Maybe if I looked closer and took a moment from being so enchanted by the largest, most obvious finds, I’d start to see the plant fossils.

Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

And then there’s the matter of plate tectonics and continental drift, which shoves massive parts of the earth around, such as uplifting the Pacific Coast where the obvious recipient of these herculean efforts of nature are witnessed as mountains, but even at the seashore, there’s no reason to doubt that at times, these lands are uplifted as well. So, this explains why all this stuff is now overhead instead of deep below our feet. About this blue rock, it’s actually clay that was once volcanic ash that might be deficient in iron and aluminum. (I wrote about that during a visit to Moolack Beach six years ago.) As for the separating bands of different materials responsible for the strange patterns, I’m going to guess that those were sediments that had the chance to accumulate between ash flows.

Wade Creek Beach in Newport, Oregon

And this concludes our exciting morning walk at Wade Creek Beach. My next check-in will be after 5:00, when Caroline and I take off for another grand coastal adventure here in Oregon.

This just in: family circumstances, being the fluid things they are, have created a situation where our hosts, June and Marvin, have had to cancel their trip to France. Obviously, the right thing to do was for me to offer them their home back, as they are now down in the super-hot Valley of the Sun baking themselves instead of enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants on the streets of France. While we’ve been reassured that we do not have to bail out on our work/vacation stay here in Oregon, it was a quick lesson in how attached we’d already become to this luxury at the seashore. It’s also a great reminder not to get too attached to things, as nothing is permanent. Be grateful for every moment and celebrate those times because you never know what tomorrow brings.

Fogarty Creek Beach in Depoe Bay, Oregon

The workday finally came to an end, and a quick dinner was shared before our five-minute drive north to Fogarty Creek Beach. With only minutes past high tide, we were limited on how far we could walk here, so we aimed for a turnoff a minute north across the street from the Chester Market to see if there was beach access over there.

Lincoln Beach in Depoe Bay, Oregon

Lincoln Beach, still in Depoe Bay, is a nice sandy affair, but maybe it’s too clean, according to Caroline. There will be no beachcombing at a place without rocks, shells, trash, or cliffside fossils. Nothing left to do but bring out Happy McKiteface.

Caroline Wise at Lincoln Beach in Depoe Bay, Oregon

We were surprised at how easily the kite went aloft even though the wind was a light affair. Maybe it was just a breeze, but up the kite went, as did the smile on my wife’s face.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Lincoln Beach in Depoe Bay, Oregon

There’s a serious joy had by Caroline when she’s flying a kite. I asked her about it, and she equates it to taking a dog for a walk where it tugs and pulls at its lead, which, in a way, animates both the kite and the sky above us. I probably took close to 40 photos of us trying to get one that worked. In portrait mode, I kept slicing off half of my head, and in landscape mode, the Caroline’s kite was out of the frame, or we were too dark, cut off, only heads without shoulders and a ton of sky above us, or some other mishap of lacking photographic skills that denied us a selfie with our pet kite. Remember, we are using a DSLR instead of a phone, so I cannot see the screen. However, while the camera has a screen, I find it too distracting, and end up looking at it instead of the center of the lens.

Caroline Wise at Lincoln Beach in Depoe Bay, Oregon

While there were not as many photos to share today as other days, don’t think for an instant that it was any less spectacular. Not only did we spend every minute near each other, but after we returned to the house, we finally took advantage of the hot tub bubbling away at a toasty 105 degrees (44.5 Celsius). Next time, we’ll plug in the spotlight that points at a disco ball that we only saw after we took our seats in the tub. Seriously perfect.

California to the Oregon Coast

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Susanville, California

This is one of those days dictated by driving requirements where a destination and hotel reservations are already fixed, but that doesn’t stop flights of fantasy from intruding into our thoughts to help paint new dreams. With only 45 miles between us and Lassen Volcanic National Park, we’d like to return to that park for a hike up the volcanic peak, which we didn’t have time for during our previous visit 20 years ago. Crater Lake, last visited 20 years ago, will also be nearby today, but we know that the rim drive doesn’t typically reopen until early July due to the heavy snow, so we discussed the possibility of making a trip up this way again later in the year just for Lassen, Lava Beds, and Crater Lake National Parks.

Butterfly next to California Highway 139 north of Susanville.

We thought we might have seen an eagle, which might have been appropriate considering that we were driving by Eagle Lake up California Highway 139, and then there were the pelicans weaving in and out of tufts of grasses, which were likely floating islands of tule reeds, growing in the shallows of the southern end of the lake. I shouldn’t forget to mention the ducks and other birds, but it was this fritillary butterfly that Caroline ended up capturing with her camera in between its frantic fluttering about.

Barn next to California Highway 139 north of Susanville.

I am compelled to overshare, which I think, in part, is triggered by the countless times I’ve casually listened to people stating how much they dislike driving big distances. For them, the drive is boring, there is nothing to see, their spouse/children/dog/cactus are too impatient after 26 minutes in the car, or they’d like to go but are waiting for the right time. There is no “right time” to get out on the roads of the country we live in! So much changes over the years, and time easily gets away from us.

Stream next to California Highway 139 north of Susanville.

We’d been passing marshy lands for miles…

California Highway 139

…and slicing through just as much forest.

Tule Lake National Monument Visitors Center in Newell, California

Seeing how we’ve never traveled this exact road through California before, we were surprised by this sign for Tule Lake National Monument, which prompted us to stop in the visitor center and learn why a lake had become a national monument. Well, it turns out there is a giant chunk of history, none of it good, that happened right up here in the Klamath Basin, once known as the Everglades of the West and subsequently as a concentration camp for Japanese people during World War II.

First up, the Everglades part of the story: Tule Lake had once been a very large lake, that is, until the Bureau of Reclamation decided that the wetlands and lake needed draining so farmers could use the land. Today, 95% of the wetlands are gone, as are the majority of the millions of birds that contributed to the area being called the Everglades of the West.

Old jail at the Tule Lake National Monument in Newell, California

Then there’s the matter of what once had been the largest concentration camp for Japanese prisoners. I mean American citizens of Japanese ancestry. At the largest capacity, 18,700 mostly Americans were imprisoned here, though, over the four years that the camp was in operation, more than 29,000 men, women, and children alike were kept here. Like the majority of the ten concentration camps operated in the U.S., most of the facilities were cleaned off the map while American forces in Europe helped ensure Nazi Concentration Camps remained to remind the world of the injustice endured by “Undesirable” European citizens. Only a handful of minor buildings still exist here at Tule Lake, such as this old jail that can only be visited at 9:30 in the morning, when staff is available. During the years of incarceration, these Japanese Americans lost their homes, businesses, and property, but let’s get real: everything was seized from them, just as the Germans had done with Jews, Roma, gays, people with handicaps, Slavs, and others.

Road to Petroglyph Point in the Lava Beds National Monument in Newell, California

Oh damn, I almost forgot the injustices committed against Native Americans, such as the Klamath People, the Modoc, and the Northern Paiutes, who were part of a band known as the Yahooskin. Back in 1954, federal recognition of the Klamath Tribe was terminated with the loss of all of their lands. By 1986, recognition was restored, and they were granted about 1% of their former lands, or an area the size of Central Park in New York City. Anyway, enough of the pedantic stuff; we are out here to visit Petroglyph Point in the Lava Beds National Monument.

Petroglyph Point in the Lava Beds National Monument in Newell, California

Of course, all of the petroglyphs are behind a fence due to the truly wretched amount of destruction they’ve suffered. This was not a fun place to visit.

Caroline Wise and John Wise entering Oregon from Hatfield, California

Oh, looky here. You see that “Welcome to Oregon” state sign behind us? Well, that can only mean that we are arriving at our happy place, though for anyone who knows us, everywhere is our happy place. Wait, that’s a lie! I really don’t like Walmart.

Oregon Highway 39

If I shared a photo of every moment worth remembering for Caroline and me, I’d have to record everything to video, only turning it off when we pass through cities and towns that have succumbed to franchise mania.

Oregon Highway 39

Some miles behind us we saw a great cragged peak behind the Upper Klamath Lake, and while I would have liked to share an image of it, there was nowhere to pull over to snap an image. So, I present you this nameless still-snow-covered mountain to capture the spirit of my intent.

Cherries in Chemult, Oregon

At midday, we stopped in Klamath Falls, Oregon, for lunch at Dave’s Brawny Burger, after which Caroline indulged in her second milkshake on this trip in so many days. This one was huckleberry-flavored. Passing through Chemult, Oregon, the Featherbed Inn we once stayed at has been rebranded, but that wasn’t surprising. These cherries, on the other hand, were a pleasant surprise. For a second, I needed to think about this idea and realize that in an age when nearly all fruit and vegetables are available year-round, it is at these seasonal times when things are at peak flavor that we have to take advantage of this opportunity, and support these roadside vendors.

Diamond Peak over Odell Lake in Crescent, Oregon

Diamond Peak over Odell Lake in Crescent, Oregon.

Dexter Reservoir in Lowell, Oregon

With all the driving we are doing today and yesterday, we are coming up short on our step count, so we try from time to time to get ourselves out of the car for a short walk. This stop was on the outskirts of the town of Lowell, Oregon, where we were able to walk across some railroad tracks and up onto the Lookout Point Dam, separating the namesake waters behind it and the Dexter Reservoir ahead.

Lookout Point Lake in Lowell, Oregon

These are the waters I was just mentioning: Lookout Point Lake.

Pacific Ocean Southview Overlook in Florence, Oregon

We were already familiar with the road that would bring us from Eugene, Oregon,  to Florence, Oregon, as it’s the one we drove on our last visit to the coast back in 2022. This is taken from the Pacific Ocean Southview Overlook. Over the years, I’ve taken more, a lot more, than the 240,779 photos that are on my computer today, and it is for a situation just like this that I could benefit from an AI that can scan all of my photos and group similar locations together, identify the specific locations if possible, and when requested, fix the poor resolution of those images I shot that are between one megapixel and about eight megapixels.

Heceta Head Lighthouse in Florence, Oregon

Just a little further up the road, a sketchy corner on the wrong side of the street has us crossing our fingers about oncoming traffic as we bolt out of our mountain-hugging lane to stop at the Heceta Head Lighthouse overview perched at the edge of the earth.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Carl G. Washburne Memorial State Park Beach in Florence, Oregon

It was shortly after 7:00 p.m. when we stopped at the Carl G. Washburne State Park Beach just for the facilities, only to find out they had been locked up tight at 7:00. Undeterred, we peed our pants, girded our loins, and washed our bits in the tropical waters of the Oregon Coast. These are the satisfied faces of having wet ourselves just before walking into the surf to rinse off.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

Our last stop trying to capture what will have to stand in for sunset was at the Devils Churn overlook south of Yachats, Oregon. Dinner was a simple shared bowl of steamer clams at Luna Sea Fish House in Seal Rock before finishing our drive to Lincoln City, where we’d be staying a night before taking over a house back down the road for the next few weeks. More about that tomorrow.

Incomprehensible Beauty

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Devils River off Highway 163 in West Texas

Well before dawn, we left our motel and stopped at a gas station for a coffee, as that’s what there was for coffee in Ozona, Texas. This, though, was a fortuitous moment as we found a lucky penny we would come to be certain changed our day. The idea behind our early departure was to beat the horde we were sure would trek south into the Del Rio, Brackettville, and Uvalde areas. Well, here we are on our way south, and the horde has not materialized. Maybe the poor weather forecast kiboshed the plans of some of those 42 million people who were expected to venture out for this full eclipse that is the last one visible over the U.S. for the next 26 years.

Highway 163 in West Texas

A couple of hours later, we arrived at a coffee shop in Del Rio, Texas, less than five miles from Ciudad Acuña, Mexico, and about two hours from the start of the solar eclipse. We’ve driven 887 miles (1,427km) across the deserts of Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas to be here only to arrive under a seriously overcast sky with weather reports warning of severe storms in the area later today. Obviously, the sky in the photo here is not overcast, it was taken while still driving south to Del Rio.

With nothing else to do, we took up a perch at a table, with me busy playing the roles of both cantankerous Muppets Waldorf and Statler. Per my normal mode of operation, I’m grading my fellow human beings. Exactly how well they fit into that narrow definition regarding human characteristics is up for debate. First point of observation: the women here have not mastered the art of skin-tight booty shorts/leggings: you should either rock them commando-style or wear a thong because lechers such as myself do not want to see your panty lines digging deep into the girths you are shoving into your second skin. Next point, desert-sand-tan leather boots of one sort or other appear to be de rigueur for Texans unless you are a visitor from Florida, in which case you wear sandals. Californians appear to prefer running shoes.

There is certainly a nice diversity out here in West Texas and not a single person practicing their right to open-carry a weapon. Speaking of weapons, I’d briefly considered a side trip to Uvalde for some morbid tourism, but with nearly 900 miles ahead of us as soon as the totality passes, we’ll need to hit speeds approaching 150 miles per hour (240 km/h) if we are to make it back to Phoenix this evening before 9:00. Pardon me, not being in Germany, Google is estimating that we’ll need almost 14 hours to get home, leaving no time to take in a mass shooting site.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Amistad Reservoir in Del Rio, Texas

Note the overcast sky behind us here at the Amistad National Recreation Area that was chosen as our viewing spot for the totality because it’s just a little west of Del Rio and significantly further west of Bracketville, our original destination. The weather forecast showed that there was going to be some breaking up of the storm clouds starting in the west, and as long we were still in the path of the totality, we figured it was better to be happy with a little more than two minutes of the full eclipse rather than risk seeing none of it. As for the selfie, I was supposed to share one of us during the eclipse, in the dark, but it turned out that having been rendered into blubbering crying babies by the sun in eclipse, or was it the shadow of the moon, that teary-eyed image I shot is not fit for posting here if I want to maintain my illusion of manhood.

Caroline Wise at Amistad Reservoir in Del Rio, Texas

How lucky was our misfortune of having our destination shift at the last minute? By coming to the Diablo East section of the Amistad Reservoir, the park service was on hand to inform the public and help them see the eclipse, but it was this special Eclipse Explorer Junior Ranger badge that made everything worth it. Even had we never seen the sun itself, just adding such a rare badge to the collection would have meant the world to Caroline.

Eclipse as seen from Del Rio, Texas

It was about 12:15, when we noticed the moon starting to creep over the sun for the first time. The clouds were streaming overhead, and while this might look bleak, the photos I took with my DSLR without any filtering were turning out better with some cloud cover than those with clearer skies. Because I left Arizona with the idea that taking photos of the eclipse was the thing I was least interested in, I had not brought my 70-200mm lens, ND filter, and tripod so I could better focus on the matter at hand rather than witnessing it through my camera.

Eclipse as seen from Del Rio, Texas

With more than an hour between the start of the eclipse and totality, I had plenty of time to get a shot here and there, many shots actually, though most have ended up in the digital dustbin of history, never to be seen again. By this time, the excitement from the adjoining parking area, where the majority of star chasers were positioned, was palpable, with cheers going up every few minutes as the moon crept closer to blotting out the light of the giant hot disk in the sky.

Eclipse as seen from Del Rio, Texas

Something unexpected happened on the way to falling under the full shadow of the moon, known as the totality; as the moon moved into position, the gravitational disturbance of some deep-seated primordial senses lingering in our bones punched the two of us, doubling us over in a stream of tears. Nothing bad, mind you; it wasn’t that we were seeing God and the second coming of his son ignoring our presence as if to notify us that we’d be dwelling in hell, nope, nothing like that. We were seriously overwhelmed by the incomprehensible beauty of watching the living prominence of the sun pulse and breathe in a manner never previously witnessed by either of us.

Eclipse as seen from Del Rio, Texas

Not having been prepared for the gargantuan emotional outpouring that seized us, all of a sudden, I was gripped by the wish to have the most exquisite record of this event so I might better reference the images and always remember where the universe took me today. As desperately as I desired a perfect artifact of this solar phenomenon, my senses never stopped telling me to focus on looking at the totality as I will likely never have the opportunity again to stare at the sun without filtered glasses and not damage my eyesight or go blind.

While staring at this incredible sight, one has to remember to also look around as it truly became dark all around us, so dark in fact that the lights of the parking lot had turned on. The orange glow on the horizon was also a sight to see, and while I tried taking photos of that beautiful view, the settings on my camera were set for taking pictures of the sun, and I couldn’t figure out how to change anything while enraptured in the state of weeping ecstasy I was gripped by. Take note, I wasn’t alone in this emotional outpouring; maybe we were even triggering each other to cry harder as we felt the others’ empathy and understanding of such a momentous event.

There were two moments of feeling that it couldn’t get any better: the first was at the beginning, when a seriously heavy amount of clouds moved in to block all sight of the eclipse and we thought we’d seen all of the totality we’d be afforded. Satisfied, we started looking around again at the general area until a roar went up from the large group that drew our attention back to the sun. The impenetrable cloud cover must have exploded because the sky was as clear as anyone could have dreamed of, we saw stars in the distance in the middle of the day.

Eclipse as seen from Del Rio, Texas

The next moment of ultimate wow was the fabled diamond ring which I only barely captured here with my phone. This image does zero justice to what was seen with the naked eye. At this point, there was a kind of threat of madness that should we stare any longer into the absolutely ecstatic image of what was playing out in the sky, we’d simply have to dissolve from the intensity of it all. To say we were shaken would be an understatement. Never before in all of our travels, both geographically and psychedelically influenced, have either of us been taken to such an emotionally giddy place of euphoria. A week later, while writing these words, I can still feel the sting of my eyes as I recollect the fervor of sensations coursing through my heart and mind, struggling to make sense of such a rarity of experience.

Looking north from Interstate 10 east of El Paso, Texas

For 3 minutes and 28 seconds, Caroline and I were lost under the eclipse, hardly able to think, reduced to nothing but feeling. We left the area about 10 minutes after the totality with tears still threatening to spill from eyes full of the immensity of that incomprehensible beauty, and for the next 45 minutes driving up the road, the knot in our throat remained ever-present. In hindsight, it could have only worked out this fortunately because of that lucky penny found at the start of our day. As for the rest of the day, nothing else mattered.

Coming To Your Christmas

JWise Photo of the Day

Caleb and Jessica Aldridge, Caroline Wise and John Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

If we were to celebrate this annual American ritual of Christmas, this would be the image that would have accompanied our Christmas cards. On the left are Caleb and Jessica Aldridge, our son-in-law and daughter/stepdaughter, who were returning to California from a two-week cross-country road trip that took them over to Florida. Due to circumstances related to Caleb’s naval service and being stationed abroad combined with the natural forces of life that take people here and there, we’d not seen him in about ten years, and while they were only able to spend a few hours with us, it was a great reunion, and we hope it won’t require another ten years before the four of us get together again. The funny thing is, this photo almost didn’t happen as we were all so happy to see each other and talk about their big adventure that I forgot to take a photo of the happy, possibly weird, and maybe a bit dysfunctional family. Caroline and I ran back downstairs after them to pull them from their car as they were heading out and insisted on showing the world our happiness.

Are We Gone Yet? Nope, This is Frankfurt

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Heddernheim in Frankfurt, Germany

Good morning to the dawn, and hello to the light of day. Thank you for welcoming us into another waking moment where we can consider how we might use our time to wander into the most amazing lives we’ll ever know.

Heddernheim in Frankfurt, Germany

And here comes the sun to shine on Café Dillenburg where we are fetching our daily bread and entertaining the idea that we could bring some of their Brötchen home with us, and I’m not only talking about this home away from home at Haus Engelhardt. With our morning meal bagged up, we raced back to Blauwiesenweg, where the butter and all variety of jams will join a pot of coffee for the greatest breakfast ever experienced. Unless you know the real pleasures of echtes Deutsches Brot, you cannot relate to my endorsement of this fascination and luxury to be had when munching on fresh Brötchen with homemade jams.

Frankfurt, Germany

No time to spare as we have things to do and people to see. The vacation within the vacation continues, while the vacation from vacation(s) will have to wait until Saturday night after we land and all of Sunday before Caroline steps back into work and I get busy trying to knock out a bunch of blog posts. Having only about 36 hours of recuperation sounds dire and likely difficult considering our age, but that’ll be nothing a lot of coffee can’t conquer.

Frankfurt, Germany

Who schedules these itineraries? It’s already 9:45 as we near the corner where Lebenshaus sits across from the Main River; our first date of the day is expecting us any minute.

Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise at Lebenshaus in Frankfurt, Germany

Guten Morgen, Frau Engelhardt. Hello, Mr. Wise. With the formalities out of the way and Jutta finished with her breakfast, we offer the briefest of visits as we are meeting someone at the Hauptbahnhof in less than an hour, but we’ll be back later.

Lebenshaus in Frankfurt, Germany

Yo dude, how’s God?

Römer in Frankfurt, Germany

Check the background; God is everywhere.

Römer in Frankfurt, Germany

I wonder, too, about how many times I’ve shared a photo from right here at Römer, but today, I’m trying something new; later, I’ll share another photo of Römerberg but from a different angle.

Subway station in Frankfurt, Germany

While this might look like a decoration in the floor of something or other, it’s actually a 1000-year-old rod of gold that was buried by a Valkyrie and is said to provide eternal life to all those who lick it to taste the flavor of Valhalla that it connects to. I swear.

Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

Seems I might have misread this sign in the past. A dozen years ago, Caroline and I were visiting the Montreal Basilica, and I thought this sign (displayed without the Psst message) was a signal to parents that it was okay for children to pick their noses, but seeing the sign like this changes the meaning significantly. I thought about correcting that old post, but I’ve decided to leave it as proof that for once in my 60 years, I’m owning one of my mistakes.

Claudia and Caroline Wise at the Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

It was just a year ago that this mystery woman on the left (I already know the one on the right) was this elusive figure from the Cologne, Germany, area the world had never seen. Today, I’m unmasking her: she is Claudia, the Brünnhilde of fiber arts, kumihimo, and tablet weaving, to be exact. Last year, Caroline traveled north to see her in person for the first time; today, Claudia traveled south so these two could meet again. How they have anything to discuss is beyond me as they chat on a near-daily basis, making the most of the time between Caroline going to sleep and Claudia’s waking to punctuate some rare time Claudia seems to find between performing her super-human; I think Nietzsche called it “Ubermenschian,” feats of fiber knowledge distillery that could only have emerged from mythology.

Caroline Wise's foot and her friend Claudia in Frankfurt, Germany

I think jealousy is in order here because consider this: Caroline loves me and makes me socks. Claudia has knitted a pair of socks for Caroline that she’s modeling right here, and while blurred, I think it’s obvious that Claudia is looking lovingly at this “wedding banded sock” pattern that I think the women were hoping I wouldn’t notice.

After allowing Claudia to buy us lunch because who doesn’t need a free meal after what we just spent in Scandinavia, I stormed off in a jealous huff of rage to drown my sorrows.

Frankfurt, Germany

At first, I considered throwing myself on the subway tracks, but this poster looking for leads of a corpse found in the Spandau forest back in 1988 kind of depressed me. Those haunting, hollow eyes made me realize that death wasn’t an option for me. But ice cream was.

Spaghetti Eis at Eis Christina in Nordend Frankfurt, Germany

The race against time unwinding is on with only 48 hours left before we step out of Europe to return home to the U.S. I’d opened a small window of two hours where I’d attempt to plumb some inspiration to write, but the limitation feels harrowing as my inclination is to shove the intensity of the previous month onto the page in as many words that I can wring out of my hand. I didn’t anticipate that the location I’d chosen to find my wit would be as busy as I found it, but it was a beautiful late summer day at the most popular ice cream shop in Frankfurt. I should have moved to a coffee shop, but minutes are precious when the clock cannot be paused.

Life is like this bowl of ice cream, refreshing and sweet, but it’s melting and will go away. I have a choice not to finish every drop and allow the remainder to be carried off, but who would allow a second or a drop to not be savored?

For 34 years, I’ve been returning to this corner at Wielandstrasse and Eckenheimer Landstrasse in Frankfurt’s north end. I lived nearby for six years and took everything other than my relationship with Caroline for granted as it was all just normal life of no special importance. Only in retrospect have I gained the perspective that the years of our 20s contribute greatly to our romantic notions and nostalgia for the world we were exploring as it lingers into the years. We were defining and shaping the people who would enter the next decade excited or bored, satisfied or angry, challenged or defeated.

Frankfurt, Germany

I see a couple of elderly ladies well into their 80s at an adjacent table while seemingly mirror images from their past; two young ladies about 21 years old are seated at the table on their other side. The young women have no idea yet that their future selves are already forming inside them and that what is so intensely important to them on this day will lose all importance before they know it. The rapid advancement and intrusion of technology and an ever-present media have torn the fabric between generations into irreparable shreds where the groups are nearly alien to each other. There is no regard for the elderly, who are bulldozed into giving up their bearings and made to feel incompetent, while youth have no time for studied reflection or even self-study before having to respond to the next wave of electronic stimulation.

When do we arrive at the place where we start to gather the knowledge that will best serve us? Are we collectively fooled into believing that the essentials are found in clothes, hair products, a favorite sports franchise, the band we currently love, or the subject blowing up on viral media? To be a composite of media contrivances is a cruel joke on the masses who feast upon anything other than the bitter questions of what it might mean to exist.

Frankfurt, Germany

There’s no suggestion that any particular area of study is going to deliver a hint of enlightenment or happiness. Likewise, only the idiot would fall for what’s being fed to society. For the sake of transparency, I, too, have played the idiot, and to an extent and on occasion still do. But, I also have some inkling that I must struggle in the word soup of my mind and ask myself: is this good enough? Have I been wasting my precious attention?

The line at the ice cream shop snaked around the corner as a kind of proof that we gravitate towards the sweet, and rarely do we lineup for the bitter. Bitterness introduces a grimace and the consternation that we have to contextualize our experience to find the value; it is not readily apparent. Time for me to go for a walk.

Starting from Nordend, I walked until I reached the Alte Nikolaikirche (Old St. Nicholas Church) on Römerberg. I dipped inside to take a respite from the bustle of the busiest square in the city. There are four of us in the church, which is peculiar when one considers how frequently it’s photographed. Then again, who on a sunny Thursday afternoon is interested in communing with their soul? The house of God is cold and nearly empty, and I suppose rightfully so when cake & coffee or a beer under a warming sun invites indulgence. I wonder if Jesus stands in a corner wondering where his faithful are.

Römer in Frankfurt, Germany

Turning from the Lord, whom I do not know, to my mother-in-law, whom I’m quite familiar with, I leave the church for the short walk to Lebenshaus but not before delivering that second promised photo from a different angle of Römerberg.

Jutta Engelhardt and John Wise at Lebenshaus in Frankfurt, Germany

We must try our best to capture the increasingly rare moments of the few that still exist, with those who have had impactful impressions upon who we’ve become. The math of what remains with a person of 88 years of age under their hat is one of numbers growing smaller. While my mother-in-law had nothing to do with my upbringing or early life impressions, she did have those impacts on the woman with whom I fell head over heels in love, her daughter Caroline. Not only that though, Jutta spent many a vacation with us in the United States, and in every departing, I had to contend with how I saw myself and how I interacted with Caroline’s mother. Her initial visits tended to be marred by my lack of sympathy and understanding of aging people. I struggled with the intransigence of someone habituated to a routine incompatible with my own. Reconciling my belligerence helped me grow and understand where the roots of those poisons were planted and what fed them; if I’m lucky, lessons were pressed right into my heart, and today, I’m a better person for my time shared with this lady.

Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise at Lebenshaus in Frankfurt, Germany

Shoot, earlier, I went on some made-up tirade about some tryst or something between Caroline and Claudia; yeah, well, I was joking, but I did go have a Spaghetti Eis because every time is a good time for a treat from Eis Christina. Sadly, upon our return to Phoenix, we learned that after 50 years in business, Eis Christina is calling it quits, at least at this location, as they left a hint they could open elsewhere in the future, but that remains uncertain.

What is certain is that Caroline still loves me and will still make socks for me and that she loves her mother. Rarely does a Sunday pass while we are in the States that these two don’t talk on the phone for at least a couple of hours, and while we are in Germany, we try to take every opportunity to say hi, take her out for a sweet, sit with her next to the river, have a coffee, and simply share time with her.

Main River in Frankfurt, Germany

So much beauty, potential for happiness, and great moments can be found in a day, though this seems amplified by the fact that we are traveling and only in places momentarily. Stopping to think about it, isn’t that what we have at home, too? What is it about routine that throws a pall over the day? Could it be that while engaged in habit, we forget to look up and see what our reality is? Well, I think it’s that and something else, which is the attitude of those around us. If the outlook of those around us carries an intellectual pallor that is gloomy and full of dark storms, we risk getting pulled into their maelstrom. We can walk across the bridge with someone we love and with whom we enjoy smiling and delight at the opportunity to be taking in life, but we can also fail to see any hope due to depression and gravity that pulls those exposed to negativity and despair into the void.

Main River in Frankfurt, Germany

I think of my own days walking through this city, unable to see the brilliance of the day, when everything was cast in shades of gray due to my dejection of not only feeling like an outsider in this foreign land but also because I felt like an outsider of the human race. That version of me, which wasn’t a daily thing but frequent enough that scars remain, is a person I’m happy to have left behind. Hardly a day goes by where I don’t wonder why society cultivates this type of harm against those who are vulnerable and what it is in the human character that desires to hurt those already in pain. While I’m an atheist, I still care for those who are poor, not only financially but poor of confidence and societal acceptance due to some perceived flaws that allow those of privilege to cast aspersions.

I’m not one considering an entry to the idea of heaven, but to too many of those who claim faith, how do you reconcile your blatant ignorance of the book that holds many lessons that are wholesome and good with the harm you inflict on the poor, hurt, and depressed people that are likely suffering due to your lack of concern to repair a society that rewards harm and aggression against those who cannot defend against your systems? Isn’t it your bible where the quote, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God, comes from?

Main River in Frankfurt, Germany

Please don’t take this last quote that a rich man is only the person with a lot of money; it pertains to all of us who have a rich life even if we are not financially in the greatest of places. What do we give to others? What do we take away or deny? Are we only rowing forward for our own sake? I supposed I’m okay with that reality, but then let’s put the pretense of some Christian ideology behind us. Let’s do away with the lies and admit that we are selfish, petulant little assholes enjoying the greed bag of stuff we can claw away from others. You, who give back through sharing knowledge, care, art, music, medicine, teaching, and protecting others, are the best part of Team Humanity that society cultivates on the margin.

Olaf and Sylvia with John and Caroline in Frankfurt, Germany

Today feels like a lesson in how to slice time into a hundred pieces. We started with breakfast at Haus Engelhardt, dipped in on Jutta, met up with a distant friend, ate ice cream, wrote, returned to Jutta, thought some more, and wrote, finishing the day with dinner in honor of our friends Olaf and Sylvia and their (by now young adult) children Johnny and Lucy. While this was possibly in recognition of Olaf’s upcoming birthday, I think it was more about friends getting together on one of the rare opportunities we are in proximity to each other’s orbit.

On our way, we stumbled past Dal Bianco Pizza on Darmstädter Landstrasse, which appears to be the long-lost place that I thought had the greatest garlic bread ever back when I lived in Sachsenhausen for some months around 1991, but that’s another story. I’m leaving this note here with the hopes that on a subsequent visit to Germany, we’ll remember that I left his breadcrumb. Closing out the night, Olaf introduced me to a couple of things he’s currently listening to; at the top of the list for me is the psychedelic band Wooden Shjips; he also encouraged me a listen to Little Simz, born to Nigerian parents in London, England. I find her real name, Simbiatu “Simbi” Abisola Abiola Ajikawo, far more interesting than Little Simz.