Observatories and Observations

Duncan, Arizona

When the heights of happiness are potentially infinite, the opposing depths are likely equally distant. We strive to reach the heavens as though there are riches to be found in what lies out of reach, but do we care to consider the breadth of unhappiness many struggle to get out of? How deep have the many traveled, and how few grasp at just how distant the important things are that might always be out of reach? The pious among us will claim to care for those around us and use doctrine as proof that they are commanded to act on their brother and sister’s behalf. Yet, we continue to swirl around the drain of our own ignorance, blind to the violence inflicted on the masses when poor education, fear, and dangerous mythologies guide them into our modern existence. Figuratively speaking, the paint is chipping off the old system, and it’s time to renovate and revitalize the most important part of the American experience: our collective education that helps inform how we perceive life around us.

Duncan, Arizona

Our escape from the blistering 118-degree heat (48c) of Phoenix took us 200 miles east to the town of Duncan, Arizona, elevation 3,652 feet (1,113 meters), but that wasn’t quite good enough. At 10,469 feet (3,191 meters), the temperature promised to be much cooler, about 35 degrees lower than the distant desert below, but it wasn’t only the pleasant climes we’d find on the mountaintop to which we were heading after our first night in Duncan. We’ve been sitting on reservations to visit the Mt. Graham International Observatory (MGIO) since February, and today is the day we get to take advantage of them.

Duncan, Arizona

These excursions, you should know by now, are not always about seeing as much as they are about understanding. To begin with, we are visiting the facility in the middle of the day instead of in the evening when most of the observation is taking place. Second, this is monsoon season in Eastern Arizona, and many of the researchers are away because in the heat of summer, observations are not as ideal as they are on dry winter days. So, while we’ll be gazing upon the telescopes and learning more about their function, we’ll not be gazing upon the stars or listening in on the frequencies of the symphony the universe is creating. This then lends itself to a purely intellectual exercise of understanding instead of gobbling up a bucket of eye candy that I believe many visitors will expect.

Mt Graham in the Pinaleño Mountains near Safford, Arizona

Please keep in mind that we are aware of these limitations, and yet it was still worth the 400-mile roundtrip and $75 per person cost. You should then be able to surmise that many of our travels are not purely for the visual aesthetic qualities we’ll gather but for what we can learn about ourselves or others. True, sometimes that learning is a reinforcement of our shared love while we lollygag through the woods, but often, time is spent searching to discover more about this thing called life and our relationship to it.

Mt Graham in the Pinaleño Mountains near Safford, Arizona

This is the Columbine Visitor Center here in the Pinaleño Mountains just below Mt. Graham, known to Native Americans of the area as Dził Nchaa Sí’an – Big Seated Mountain. We are taking a lunch break before making our way up the final stretch to where the observatories are located.

Mt Graham in the Pinaleño Mountains near Safford, Arizona

The potential worlds that might exist far away in the distant corners of our universe might hold more interest to many than wondering about the galaxy in which a pollinator exists. I walked over to the meadow (pictured below) to take a photo of this yellow ragwort flower, and while I have better-focused specimens, I don’t have another with a bee flying in to fetch hive supplies. That bee is a forager; its job is to collect pollen, nectar, and water. When its work is done, it will return the goods to the hive, where others will pick up the pieces and perform their respective tasks while the forager rests. The hive is in constant motion and is an essential spoke in the ecosystem of life far beyond the place it calls home. If the bees could tell us their story of mapping the world around them, fending off predators, raising baby bees, tending to the health of the hive, acting as heaters and air-conditioners, and waiting on their queen, maybe we could better empathize with their struggle for life and do our part to ensure the health of an environment that remains supportive of their colonies.

The hive can be seen as a microcosm of our own world where the queen bee is our planet. The queen lives 52 times longer than a worker bee, whose life is a brief five weeks on average. Put in human terms, as we live to be about 80 years old, our queen mothers would live for about 4,160 years comparatively. Give me a moment with this poetic license. What I mean to show is that a worker bee born today on July 15, 2023, will be dead by September 1st, 2023, but is working for the health and welfare of a queen bee that will be producing other bees, maybe 30, 40, or 50 generations into the future. Now bring this back to our human scale: a woman gives birth to a child, and now we must care for this mother as she’ll be around in the year 5,000, looking over her children and siblings we’ll never know. What might we change about our consumption and pollution if we knew that our mothers should thrive as their life extends thousands of years into the future?

Mt Graham in the Pinaleño Mountains near Safford, Arizona

From a recent note taken on the verge of sleep:

Negotiating the waters of stupidity while in casual conversation, we are often dragged into the shallow end of the gene pool and drowned in the sea of banality.

I understand that there are times when the folly of silly thought is de rigeur for bringing levity and mindlessness to a moment, allowing great comfort often found in laughter to take over some of the pressures encountered in the day, but this begs for an answer to the question, “When do we delve into the depths of consideration of ideas that are uncomfortable?”

As Bertrand Russell once said, “In all affairs, it’s a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted.”

Shall we all aspire to become dry, loquacious scepters of nerdity, converting scientific theory and philosophy into binary speak in order to dazzle those of lesser minds? That would be a mendacious accounting of what I’m seeking. My goal in the lamentation of what I perceive to be stupid is nothing more than begging others to show a modicum of curiosity beyond what is already fully familiar to their staid routines. Again, we can consider this thought from Bertrand Russell and put a question mark at the end of what we state we like and do.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Just as the various telescopes at MGIO look for clues arriving from the vast expanse of time, we, too, can look for hints about ourselves as we survey the world around us. The great thing about humans is that we require no special equipment, optics, or particular places high in the mountains to look within. We have our senses, but maybe the one great piece of sophisticated equipment that is missing is an inquisitive mind to process any of it. I cannot quantify the quality of mind secreted in my skull, but with the little, I believe I know, I can take stabs into the darkness to pull out the few observations that find their way onto the electronic paper where I share these musings.

Without too much consideration of conflict, we can openly share twaddle, such as what we thought of a movie, a video game, the weather, the local sports franchise, the nature of our pets, or how our children are doing in school, but don’t cross the line and make generalized statements about the quality of people and risk stepping on the toes of blind nationalism. Insult a people and risk having the collective boot of fascism stomp down on your neck. Good benign opinions make for great small talk; perceived criticism turns the potential traitor into fodder ready for the meat grinder of indignation. And why is this? Because, to some extent, we despise critical thinking while silently cherishing its opposite.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

All things steeped in ideas of permanence are mere bandaids waiting to be torn from the flesh in order for healing and scar tissue to make the body more resilient, and the same applies to the mind. I’ve never once shared something that is a law; I even doubt the veracity of what I might imply to be factual, and should you believe that my delivery is stout enough that you’ve confused me with a self-anointed expert, then you’ve taken the idiot and elevated him beyond where I find myself. Not to insinuate a false modesty as if I might seriously offer that I’m stupid. That much I wouldn’t profess, but knowing what I don’t know and will likely never know, I recognize that we are by-and-large but useful idiots.

This knowledge doesn’t extend to the premise that could justify stupidity as that state of being is repugnant. Stupidity, as I see it, is wilful and worn as a badge of conformity in this age of mass consumption, where it’s better to look good than to be curious. To find one’s self in the mainstream is an assignation with a jester employed by King Fool.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

There are things that readers can’t know about the intentionality of the author or precisely the landscape they are designing. No words, telescopes, or microscopes can help you see or understand what’s at work if things are not explicitly shared. Take this paragraph here: I’ve recently reached the two million word mark on my blog and am now excited to change direction by throwing my focus on something I thought I’d never try again, and that’s writing outside of this electronic medium of distribution. Not only am I looking forward to opening the dome of my mind’s eye to peer farther into the darkness of possibilities, but I’m delusional enough to believe I might have a work of philosophical fiction within this imagination.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Out of the liminal space that is the mind, we turn corners to discover the linguistic monsters of poetry, beauty, fantasy, and deep thought while near certainty travels with each step that tells us that there is nothing ahead. Yet, each new word set down arrives with one to follow that somehow flows from fingers, eyes, the mind, or some other dimension that the writer finds mysterious in its origin. The more one practices, the more exciting the intensity of discovering the depth of the river of thought until, splashing in the wash of words, we start to direct where the waters will fall. The divinity of intelligence begins forming a new universe, but the audacity to state such lofty ideas could rightfully be frowned upon as our ambition is likely far greater than the tools we bring to the task.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

And yet, every day, we sample the unseen and the unheard to give form and meaning to invisible signals we are awash in. Our lack of awareness of the density of that in which we are immersed is an astonishing ignorance that tricks our senses into paying attention to flickers of a tiny fraction of the reality that wraps us in its clutch. The light, sound, movement of air, humidity, pressure, gravity, various signals across a broad spectrum, smells, sights of other things, people, and phenomena bombard our entity, and the best we are able to mutter is something about aliens, conspiracies, boobies, or external tragedies we desire to own in order to further our ability to share inanities that offer the appearance of wakefulness to others.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Have you heard or read this all before? Of course, you might have, depending on how much of this crap on my site you’ve bothered with. So why do I continue digging in the same pit? I’m trying to discover the perfect treasure of how to express things that might find refinement through heavy repetition, like smelting and alloying a purer metal used in casting the perfect katana.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Without attention to the finer details of the tools and intellects that propel humans into their future, we’d have remained dullards hiding in caves, but then again, what exactly has the man cave become?

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

My low opinion of humanity (excluding the mass of scientists, artists, creators, educators, doctors, and those who invest in moving society forward in a hopefully healthy direction) can be exemplified by our tour of the Mount Graham International Observatory when a Swedish engineer at the Heinrich Hertz Submillimeter Telescope started answering questions from Caroline and me about the equipment and signal processing equipment. Literally, everyone else on the tour took leave of the three of us as things turned complex and technical while the enthusiasm of the engineer appeared to become amplified, as though it was passed through one of the many filter arrays used in the analysis of otherwise weak signals arriving from the cosmos.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Maybe the issue is that we observe ourselves through the microscope when a wider view is in order. To focus on a tiny aspect or two of who we are is myopic; we need to pull back and look at the bigger picture, pull up to a telescope, and look far beyond the small parts of ourselves that we believe we know.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

You can choose to see this machine as just that, or you can recognize that it represents our knowledge, that it is a tool of our brilliance. This giant sphere-like object is a bell jar that a crane moves out into the middle of this facility on the ground floor before it’s transferred to another crane that will pull it up into the telescope room above this one. Once upstairs, the mirror you see in the next photo below will be rotated 90 degrees so it can be coupled to the chamber before about 15 grams of aluminum (an aluminum can worth) is vaporized and coats the mirror, restoring its optical integrity. What else do you choose to see without seeing the bigger picture or understanding the nuance buried underneath layers of unknowns?

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Scale is difficult to determine from this relatively flat image without a banana for comparison, but that mirror you are looking at, which is but half of this binocular-type configuration, is 8.4 meters (330 inches) across. The other lens, as measured from the centers of each, is 14.4 meters away or 47 feet. Working together, the binocular telescope (as of today, the world’s largest) spied galaxy cluster 2XMM J083026+524133 back in 2008, shortly after the two lenses began operating in tandem, capturing light that’s been traveling for 7.7 billion years to reach us. Meanwhile, some guy looked at his phone screen the other day where the light took 1.7 nanoseconds to reach his eyes, and using some well-developed confirmation bias allowed a bit of nonsensical information to lend affirmation to his evolving stupidity that he was quick to share with anyone falling into his orbit. I should have learned much earlier in life that this is simply the average man.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

My constant derision of the less intellectually endowed likely reflects poorly on my own intelligence, but then I’ve never told anyone I’m any smarter than your common box of rocks. I am curious which I do find less common than those who are still sporting mullets. Obviously, I’m not a wee bit interested in explaining what most of this stuff we saw was and appear perfectly content to whine about others for I find so much disapproval, but let me level with you: that has a lot to do with the others on this tour who’ve shown me once again that a plurality of people, even when invested in gathering an experience, no longer desire what they thought they wanted. The “great idea” of doing something educational proved to involve too much heavy lifting, so let’s just meander aimlessly and talk among ourselves about stuff that has nothing to do with the environment we are currently supposed to be immersed in.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

The rarely-seen underside of a telescope. I just made that up. I have no idea how common it is to be under a telescope, but here it is. And because in the years to come, I could easily forget what some of these sights pertained to, the image above this one is the fixture where the mirrors are mounted. The giant wheels are used to position the lenses but also to turn them up a full 90 degrees so the bell jar can be moved into position to resurface them.

Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

Five photos above this one is the image that shows the externals of the telescope we are visiting at this moment. The gray structure is the housing where the binocular telescope lives. At the moment we are standing in the middle green metal part of it all. Here, four of these blue mini-locomotive-like machines are responsible for moving the entire 900 tons of gear and building into the optimal position for stargazing.

Leaving the Mt Graham International Observatory on Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona

And just like that, our day on the mountain in contemplation about the tools that enable our species to survey the heavens must come to an end, and while we learned some things here and there, we leave with the desire to know even more about how we look into the cosmos.

Cotton field in Safford, Arizona

In the background are the Pinaleño Mountains, where our tour of the Mt Graham International Observatory took place, while in the foreground, the cotton fields are blooming.

Cotton flower in Safford, Arizona

Here in the Gila Valley, where the Gila River flows, the famous Pima Cotton grows.

Rainbow near Duncan, Arizona

To the east in New Mexico, it was obviously raining, which makes sense as that’s generally the direction from where monsoons move into Arizona, while this oddly shaped rainbow appears to be a bit north over in the Clifton/Morenci area of Arizona.

Rainbow near Duncan, Arizona

A faint double rainbow stretches across the sky. The elixir found in the vibrancy of refracted light bending in water drops shouldn’t be carelessly dismissed for the effect they play on exercising face muscles pulled into smiles. It has been proven that the frequency of smiles in our lives corresponds directly to the absolute joy we’ll be able to experience at any given moment in the day. And if that smile is reflected upon the face of a person(s) you are with, the joy is exponentiated. Warning: if, upon looking at rainbows, the other person seeing it at the same time fails to smile, you are likely in the company of a sociopath: run away.

Rainbow near Duncan, Arizona

Can a blog post ever have too many rainbow photos? That’s like asking if cake can have too much yummy. Thank you, rain and sun, for offering us all this sky cake. Now, please stop, as our cheeks are starting to hurt from the incessant smiling.

Rainbows of Contemplation

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

You can be certain that we were nearly the first at breakfast as we were uncertain at which point they’d run out of food. Should you wonder why we didn’t head somewhere else for dinner or breakfast, well, “somewhere else” is Jacob Lake, about 45 miles away, which requires an easy hour to drive in each direction.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

It’s a rare day in a national park that we pull up to the best seats in a lodge to just sit back and watch the weather pass, but that’s what we are embarking on right now. From a still-dark canyon when we first peeked into this fog-filled void prior to our visit to the dining room, the rain comes and goes. Also on the move have been some whisps of clouds forming off the edges of cliffs and nearby outcroppings.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

In between, the sun pops out and brings golden light to small corners of the vast landscape sprawled before us, while at other fleeting moments, rainbows spring into their ephemeral existence and just as quickly fade away. The canopy floats by or is it hovering over the canyon? Whatever it’s doing or how it might be characterized, it’s beautiful.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

Sitting here, I think about how, previously, we’ve seen others passing their time at this picture window and thought they were wasting an opportunity when they could have been on the go and capturing so much more outside on the trails. Maybe that was a testament to how much more contemplative those people were as compared to us at the time because here we are today, just like those people, monopolizing the comfy leather couch facing the panorama window.

Rainbow at the Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

Just one of the many rainbows we watched come and go.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

There won’t be a lot of variation in these photos aside from shifting weather and light as our plan to hit the North Kaibab Trail for a few miles of hiking today has been scratched due to the rain and our general satisfaction that not only had we hiked a considerable amount yesterday (about 12 miles), but we have these great seats that seem to be encouraging us to keep them warm (and get some sock knitting done).

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

A funny aside, when people want to step in front of the window we are camping at, they often excuse themselves as though the view was all ours.

Peggy Walker and Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

Funnier yet was meeting Larry and Peggy Walker, World Travelers. Larry first tried passing his wife off on me; well, he threatened that she might sit in my lap if I objected to sharing the view. This was followed up by him moving slyly into my spot next to Caroline when I had stood up to snap a photo or two. His smiling face of “Gotcha” was certainly worth a good laugh. It turned out that these two were celebrating their 50th anniversary this week while also accompanying some friends who were renewing their vows in Vegas. Larry and Peggy are just an awesome happy couple and an inspiration to both of us. Hopefully, we, too see our 50th anniversary someday.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

We sat a bit longer and started to learn that many people want to stop and talk, so contemplative moments are not all that easy to have. With this realization, we consider that it’s time to get moving again, but just then, another weather front is coming in from the east, and I’m curious to watch the canyon disappear again. As we got up after sitting there for close to three hours, we saw that all around us, the trappings that make the lodge a comfy place had been disappearing as the crew, anxious to be finished for the season, had been busy clearing the place out.

Vermilion Cliffs seen from Marble Canyon, Arizona

This must be a record year regarding how many times we’ve passed through the Vermilion Cliffs area, and each encounter is as worthy as any of the other travels through here.

Over the Colorado River on the Navajo Bridge in Marble Canyon, Arizona

I’ve taken countless photos over the years of the Colorado River from the Navajo Bridge but I’m not sure I’ve ever taken one in this kind of light. I took this thought not as yet another iteration of this scene but as an establishing shot of what comes next. First, though, there’s a tiny detail at the top of the cliffside on the right, and while you can’t see it right now, it’ll all become clear in the next photo. Oh, and consider that the bridge we are on is 467 feet (142 meters) over the river below, which should give you some idea about the scale.

Condors at Navajo Bridge in Marble Canyon, Arizona

On the lower right sits an incredibly rare bird, rarer than its parents, above it to the left. That black spot is a fledgling condor born in the wild, one of a small handful. These are just three of the approximately 115 condors that are hopefully still alive in Arizona, and if I had to guess, I’d say that Caroline and I have seen no less than 15 of these giants of the scavenger world or more than 10% of all condors in our state; that’s simultaneously cool and tragic. Think about it: we are barely holding on to the 500 or so California Condors that still exist, although that’s from a low point of just 27 birds left in existence back in 1987. If we are having this difficulty keeping a species of bird with a 10-foot wide wingspan alive, what would make us believe we can keep ourselves going into the future? And if you believe it’s natural selection, the demise of condors was due to humans using lead ammunition for hunting and leaving animals and entrails in the wild where the birds would naturally finish them off. The resulting lead poisoning nearly brought them to extinction.

Rainbow seen over Highway 89 north of Flagstaff, Arizona

Since leaving the remarkable sight of the fledgling, we’ve been hitting intermittent rain, sometimes heavy. Just south of Flagstaff, the intensity of this rainbow demanded we stop. Sadly, the photo does it no justice.

Flagstaff, Arizona

From a distance, we thought we were looking at sun rays shining through the clouds onto the forest that sits on the flank of San Francisco Mountain below Humphry’s Peak, that’s well out of sight. Nope, it wasn’t until we pulled over that we saw the thousands of Aspen trees changing color with the change of season.

Rainbow seen over Highway 17 south of Flagstaff, Arizona

Hmmm, maybe Sedona is the magic place so many believe it is, as here we are at Highway 179, which is the exit for Sedona, and it was double-rainbows all the way.

Denver to Rocky Mountains

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Before heading out of Denver this morning, I have another request from Caroline to satisfy, and that’s for us to visit the Denver Botanical Garden. You can rest assured that these orchids are not near our motel because our typical lodging arrangement is more likely to smell of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and a hint of urine and located where, at best, weeds might be growing. Where exactly we stayed is lost, lost, lost, as are many details about this trip to Denver because, once again, this is another of those posts that arise from a forgotten past when, for reasons beyond the timeline of active memory, there was nothing ever written or noted about this visit and so in 2023 I’m here at work trying to assemble something that might reflect relatively accurately about the events of the day.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Searching for something to say about the garden, there was a moment when I thought I wanted to claim it felt like cheating to photograph gardens and flowers as everything is already organized, but just as quickly as I entertained that idea, I realized that photographing anything is in essence configured in a similar way as whatever the subject matter aside from people and animals, the scene is presented as the scene is. Still, there’s something that has me feeling like I’m adding filler with no valuable caloric content, just sugary convenience.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

I spent nearly 90 minutes writing the previous two paragraphs, which could be more time than we even spent in the garden; such is the nature of scouring a mind, looking for any hint of impressions that might have been made a decade earlier. One could be wondering what the importance is of backfilling this stuff, and my answer is that without the photos up here, they are lost in the depths of my hard drive where we rarely, if ever, look back at the photos occupying those magnetic particles. Take this post where I’m sharing 17 of what I felt were the best photos on the day we were visiting Colorado. I shot 229 photos, and the majority of them should be tossed. The tedium of going through so many photos to reacquaint ourselves with memories would be cumbersome, while here on the blog, we can do a quick scan of a day to pick up the high points, and if we are so inclined, we can read a little something or other that might offer us a chuckle.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Maybe I have a small disconnect with flower gardens in that I’m not sure where they come from. Take this dahlia; where do they grow wild? After a little search, I learned they originate in Mexico and Central America, while roses came from Central Asia. I’d wager that my relationship with flowers was negatively influenced by the fact that in my childhood, I only ever saw them in stores and that they now feel like some kind of cultivar only created for human appreciation, kind of like chihuahuas.

Squirrel at the Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

While still at Wikipedia, I thought I’d look up something interesting about the squirrel, and well, there’s little that’s really interesting about this furry creature. But then, just as I was about to turn away, I gave a second thought to its name, which in Old English was Ācweorna, that gave way in the days of Middle English to Aquerne; both words are cognates of the German word Eichhorn. Look closely at the English variants, and you should be able to see the similarity. Obviously, we are not near squirrel yet, which would be influenced by the Anglo-Norman French word esquirel, which came from the Latin sciurus (which in turn is derived from Greek skíouros, which means shadow tail). For those of you who might not know much about the English language you speak, its origins are mostly found in French and German, with nearly nothing remaining of the original forms of English in the modern tongue we use.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Going out on a limb here by claiming this might be a magenta strawflower.

On the way to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

It was now time to head up into the mountains, the Rocky Mountains National Park, to be precise. For one reason or another, we opted to travel the southern boundary and enter through the western gate. Maybe it was meant to facilitate a loop around and through the park, but without afternoon photos, I wasn’t able to decide with any certainty. What I am confident about is that we had beautiful weather for our visit.

On the way to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

I wanted to believe that this is the Colorado River but after chasing the road using Street View, I can’t figure out anything about the location.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

Entering the Rocky Mountain National Park via Trailridge Road on the west side of the park just north of Grand Lake. I’m certain about this fact, as the rock layout of the foundation of this sign matches the Street View capture. Looking back at this 10-year-old image of me, I can better recognize the amount of gray hair that was appearing and realize that it didn’t happen as quickly as I sometimes fear. As for Caroline, and I’m sure she’ll disagree, she looks exactly the same, though she’ll point out that she now has about 30 gray hairs at the center front of her hairline; big deal because I now start looking like Santa Claus.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

Thanks to the good ‘ol internet for reminding me that we are at the Continental Divide in front of Poudre Lake. By the way, you may notice here that the weather is changing. Look closely and you might catch a whisp of a rainbow that’s over the small lake right near the short here.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

We are in front of the Alpine Visitors Center

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

Hunting for sunshine and blue skies limits the direction I’m taking photos. With the change in conditions, you can bet we’ll have to plan on a return visit to capture the vistas under optimal conditions.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

While faint, there’s nothing wrong with double rainbows to brighten the heavy clouds marching in.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

We never expected that our visit would turn into a trip to the Rainbow Rockies.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

The elevation up here is no joke, with me getting dizzy every time we step out of the car. Hopefully, upon our return on a future visit, we’ll opt to stay in Estes Park in order to acclimatize to the heights of this national park.

Clarks Nutcracker bird at the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

What a perfect example of the Clarks Nutcracker that posed for minutes, striking various stances for me to capture its elegance.

Caroline Wise at the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

To the astute reader, you might recognize that this photo of Caroline earning her Junior Rangers badge was at the Kawuneeche Visitor Center, which is near where we entered the park, and that would be correct. It’s placed here at the end of the post, as I felt it was a good closing for this entry.

Following our visit to the Rocky Mountains, we likely drove back to Denver via Estes Park and then headed towards our hotel in Aurora. We dined at a Ted’s Montana Grill around the corner from the ALoft at the Airport. Afterward, we returned to our room because, at the break of dawn the next day, we were catching a flight back to Phoenix so that Caroline could go directly to work.

Ocean and Rainbows

Santa Monica, California

It’s Labor Day in America, and that means it’s also the last day of our time in Southern California, but that doesn’t imply that we’re just taking off for a quick drive back across the deserts of California and Arizona so we can get home early. Nope, we had things to do, such as head down Wilshire Blvd to the Santa Monica Pier as who doesn’t enjoy a walk out over the ocean?

Santa Monica, California

I think these plump specimens of pigeonhood have become accustomed to the feeding hands of people. The closer we got, the closer we got, meaning they didn’t scatter. Nope, they focused those evil beady red eyes on us as if questioning us, “Whatchya got in the way of snackies to offer, so we don’t need to poop on you?”

Santa Monica, California

Meanwhile, the pelican looks on from above, thinking, “I already know you, sorry skin-sacks got no fish, so I may as well poo on you, be careful where you walk.”

Santa Monica, California

In my opinion, pelicans are right behind the albatross in cool factor with regards to birds that soar over the water. Look at its form, wing tips seemingly just millimeters off the surface; head pulled back as if resting it on the body, looking for all the world as if it were in cruising mode and when pelicans are going to go in for something to eat, they rear up and divebomb with that long beak piercing the water’s surface as if to open a portal into the sea for it to grab its meal.

Santa Monica, California

In the first years, Caroline and I would travel from Phoenix to the Los Angeles area it wasn’t uncommon for headaches to creep up on us as we entered the smog vector somewhere near Palm Springs. Through the mountains, a brown cloud not made of fog wafted to the east, and we had to drive right into it. That was common for us in the mid to late 90s, but over time, it’s been improving gradually. Now, if only better mass transportation and more affordable housing for the underclass could be facilitated to remove the traffic gridlock and scale of the homeless problem, Los Angeles would only become a better and better place to live.

Santa Monica, California

Then again, with a greater quality of life, a greater density of residents competing for resources would only grow dire. If the pier here in Santa Monica were round-the-clock mayhem as it is on a Friday or Saturday night, maybe things wouldn’t be quite as enchanting as they are here on a quiet early morning while a calm sea laps at the pylons of the pier and gently rolls onshore.

Santa Monica, California

With nearly two hours ahead of us before our next “date,” all we can do is wander around enjoying the beautiful day.

Santa Monica, California

And though we love the evening vibe here on the promenade, we thoroughly enjoy the morning solitude.

Santa Monica, California

Our “date” is a documentary we are taking in this morning here on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. Side by Side, produced and narrated by Keanu Reeves, is a comparative look at the differences between film and digital workflows in the making of movies.

Rainbows over the California Desert

We had one more stop in Los Angeles before hitting the road back east and that was at Yoma Myanmar in Monterey Park, a little Burmese joint of a restaurant. By the time we are in the desert, dark clouds on the horizon portend some inclement weather in our future, that and rainbows.

Rainbows over the California Desert

Rainbows and hints of double rainbows.

Rainbows over the California Desert

Even a full rainbow that had us get off the freeway for a better photo.

Rainbows over the California Desert

How about some more double rainbow? Yep, this is how we travel: blue skies, great food, awesome experiences, and rainbows everywhere we go.

Rainbows Everywhere We Go

Goose Eggs

Attention: Some images had to be moved around, and additional information needed to be added to these 4-days as when I first blogged about this trip, it wasn’t in my head that exacting placement of details should be very precise as long as we had an idea of what was what. Well, here I am in November 2022 with COVID-19, repairing those bungles because I’ve got nothing better to do.

Last night we were gifted these two goose eggs for our breakfast; Caroline nor I had ever had goose eggs before. No, they don’t taste like chicken; they are like creamier, heavier versions of chicken eggs.

Geese at Lavender Spring Ranch in Arabela, New Mexico

Thanks, ladies, for your contribution to our breakfast.

Lavender Spring Ranch in Arabela, New Mexico

Being called Lavender Spring Ranch, it seems appropriate that lavender should be just about everywhere.

Lavender Spring Ranch in Arabela, New Mexico

Bundles of lavender dry until they are threshed to remove their flowers.

Dragonfly at Lavender Spring Ranch in Arabela, New Mexico

Dragonflies, on the other hand, do not require threshing.

Caroline Wise with Bess Crouch at Lavender Spring Ranch in Arabela, New Mexico

It was time to go, as our weekend was quickly coming to an end. Many thanks to Cliff and Bess Crouch of Lavender Spring Ranch for not only hosting us but also for their efforts of turning a decrepit old farm into a great adventure through an incredible amount of work, love, and dedication. That giant bag of lavender in Caroline’s hands was a gift from Bess.

Driving across New Mexico

On our way back to Phoenix across New Mexico on a beautiful day.

Somewhere near Springerville, Arizona

Beautiful day until we passed through Pie Town, New Mexico, because for the 43rd trillionth time, we were still unable to buy pie. Now dejected and without pie, we arrive back in Arizona to find bad weather.

A full rainbow stretching from side to side across the landscape in northern Arizona west of Springerville

A dozen miles west of Springerville, the sky opened bright and wide, the sun’s reflection on the wet road blinding us. Behind us, though, we saw the most vibrant, beautiful rainbow either of us had ever seen. I lept from the car with the rain still falling and was instantly wildly invigorated – what a great treat this was, and it was way better than pie. For the next half hour, we spoke in stunned excitement at the luck of the road chosen and being able to see the most incredible rainbow yet seen by the two of us.

I learned something this weekend about sleeping. Nine days ago, I was diagnosed with sleep apnea, and with much pleading, I was able to get my CPAP days ahead of my next doctor’s appointment. Well, seeing I had only used the thing for three nights prior to driving over to New Mexico, I figured it was too much of a hassle to bring the thing, and what the heck, I’d already “slept” for years not using one, what could the weekend be like without it? Horrible was the answer, I can’t believe how quickly I saw a change in my quality of life. This would be the last time I traveled without it.

Re-entering Arizona

Southern California Desert seen from interstate 10

Attention: These posts following our coastal Christmas-thru-New-Year’s trip are named a bit specifically, that’s because when these were originally shared, they only had one photo each due to bandwidth limitations back in the day. Since that time, I’ve updated them to include images that relate to the details of each day.

I’ve been in California since December 10th, aside from a 12-hour run to drop Caroline at home between the 12th and 13th before I came right back. Now, after our short vacation together up the coast, we’re heading back to Arizona.

Southern California Desert seen from interstate 10

While the weather isn’t perfect, the rainbows are.

Southern California Desert seen from interstate 10

The weather follows us back across the California desert, but there’s only a tiny chance it will come with us all the way to Arizona.

Entering Arizona from California on Interstate 10

I was wrong about the weather following us into Arizona. My return back to our home state will be brief. In just three days, come Wednesday, I’ll be driving back to Santa Barbara to check on Uncle Woody’s recovery. The plan right now is to only be there until the 12th so I can get back home for our 12th anniversary.