Entries about travel

I’m on a bus rolling north on Interstate 35. I’m a passenger. Why am I not a “passager”? Why is that “n” there? Now that is a perfect example of a bus thought. I’ve spent a lot of time on buses and trains this year. I’ve gone from the top of Michigan to the middle of Florida by bus or train. This has given me a lot of insight into the nature of this style of travel.

Here and Now

Parallel streaks of water slide down at a 15-degree angle from the top of the window. It distorts my view. The heavy gray ceiling hangs over drab landform of the plains below.

I’m listening to tunes on my I-pod. My songs: “Truth” by Alexander. “Some Say I’m Not” by Mason Jennings. “Skinny Love” by Bon Iver. “How to Disappear Completely“ by Radiohead. “Islero“ by Crooked Fingers. The music creates a soundtrack to the movie of my life. I picture past events and put music to those moments. I’m vain enough to think it would be a cool video.

A minute ago, we passed an abandoned farmhouse and barn along side of the road. It would have been an easy scene to establish mood in a photograph. Three “D” words come to mind: Decay. Decrepit. Dreariness. Sadness hangs over that place, even the trees don’t want to grow. I wonder about it.

The dark afternoon suits my temperment for this ride. I’m a bit hung over today. I’m also a bit tired. Last nights adventure took my nephew, his future bride, and myself into downtown Kansas City. We ate and then went to the Blue Room over in the Jazz District. Have you heard of the Blue Room? It’s a Kansas City landmark, right on the corner of the Jazz District. Many Jazz legends have played the Blue Room. The proof hangs on the wall in the form of vintage black and white band photos. The music is good, the mood is light, the conversation flows. Two events surprise us: Free cake and a saxophone player. The latter being a musician of modest fame, who happened to be in town, and was packing his horn. The former was delicious. Both surprises are delightful.

My memories, the soothing landscape and my music are the order of the day.

On Thinking Too Much

Buses offer a lot of time to think. Alan Watts reminds us that, “A person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts. So he loses touch with reality and lives in a world of illusions. I’m not saying thinking is bad. Like anything else, it is useful in moderation. A good servant, but a bad master.”

So true.

What do I think about? My future. As a Zen free spirit, I find it amusing that I suffer from mild anxiety about my short-term future more often than I want to. I haven’t convinced myself that there isn’t anything to worry about. Everything will work out, as it should. Ram Dass has mused, “Isn’t that interesting? Far out, I still get uptight about this.”

Four Repeating Thoughts

My finances are dwindling. I may have to give up being a mariner. I don’t have another job lined up yet, though I am working on it. I’m tired of trying to figure out where to go.

These thoughts aren’t all that scary. I don’t know why I’m worried about it. I offer them to give a little insight into the mind of a wanderer. My life is different from most, and sometimes its not easy living on the very edge of stability. I feel like I’m coming to crossroads of my life. I can’t see the next path, yet, but I sense it is there. Which path should I take? And there’s the rub.

This last paragraph has brought a smile to my face.

This is my 2012 Photographic Review. I originally started this project with intentions of explaining where I was and how the photographs came about. When I started going through my files, I realized there were too many photos that I wanted to share. The entry would’ve been the size of a telephone book for elephants.

I will let the photographs speak for themselves. Many of these photos I’ve used in my entries during the past year, but there are a couple in there that I have not shared, until now. If you have any questions or comments concerning any of the locations or technique involved, please let me know and I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know.

With that, I offer you 2012 in review.

January - Baja, Mexico
I was in Mexico in January. I was finishing my last month as a full time employee for the cruise ship I work on.

February - Idaho
In the beginning of February I headed west from Michigan to Idaho where I planned to become a ski bum for a couple of months. In Idaho, my life revolved around two of my favorite pastimes: skiing and long boarding. I skied when the snow as good on the mountain, and long boarded when the mountain was closed, or without fresh snow.

March - Baja Mexico
After a year and a half of living and working on a ship, I became a social creature. In Idaho, I fell into a bit of a funk. I was lonely and I missed my ship friends. Fortunately, I had an opportunity to rejoin the ship for a month down in Mexico. I got out of my funk and let those bad thoughts float away on the tides. March is one damn fine month to be in Baja.

April - Baja, Mexico, American Road Trip
My last week in Baja was about as good as you can get.

April Road Trip - 2000 miles
After Baja, I travelled across America in my van on a rambling 2000 mile trip that turned into a 4000 mile trip.

Chicago

May - To West Virginia, Birthday in Seattle, Alaska
In May, I went down to West Virginia for some rock climbing and white water rafting. I celebrated my birthday in Seattle with my birthday twin, before heading north to Alaska to explore Denali National Park.

West Virginia

Seattle

Alaska

Haines and Homer

June - Isle Royale, Colorado
In June, I hiked I trekked on Isle Royale National Park before heading south to Colorado. In Colorado, I found incredible heat, forest fires, and amazing sand dunes.

Colorado

July - Michigan
In July, I returned to Lake Superior to embrace summer.

August - Southeast Alaska

In August, I returned to work on my beloved SeaBird for another three and a half months. The wild landscapes and incredible beauty continue to draw me back.

September - Southeast Alaska, British Columbia, Columbia River
In September, I saw some of the best that Southeast Alaska has to offer.

Alaska

British Columbia

Columbia River

October - Columbia River
In October, I watched the summer turn to autumn along the famed Columbia River.

November - Falkland Islands, South Georgia Island and Antarctica
In November, I took a three week epic cruise to the Falklands, South Georgia and The Antarctic Peninsula. The two years of blood sweat and tears I shed for my ship was completely repaid with this wonderful excursion to the Antarctic.

The Falklands

South Georgia

Antarctica

December - Patagonia, Argentina
In December, I took my first steps on land in four months. I started in Ushuaia, and began travelling north into Patagonia.

When I look back at everything I have experienced, I laugh. I can't believe it. How the hell do I get so lucky? I want to thank all of you
who have given this project any time at all. It's my sincerest hope you find some joy in whatever it is you do for fun. At heart, I'm a writer, a rambler and a photographer, and I'm happiest when I'm walking through an unknown landscape with beautiful light. Thank you, Happy New Year, and I'll see you in 2013.

Argentina Travel Philosophy

I was thumbing through my brand new Argentina Travel Guide the other day. I suppose it was going all right. I was looking at various towns and locales, trying to memorize the interesting tidbits each place offered. I hoped to piece together enough interesting locations for my upcoming trip. I was “making a plan.” Something about it didn’t sit right. I wasn’t interested in reading this humongous fact book, and I felt overwhelmed by the task. That’s when I set the book down. I had reached yet another epiphany.

I don’t know much about Argentina. My attempt to memorize a travel guide isn’t going to help me understand it any better. I’d rather enter the country without a clue, making each experience that much more thrilling.

This bit of logic sent me deep into the bones of travel philosophy. The fact is, the planet has been thoroughly explored. It is mapped, photographed, and documented. Argentina is no exception. However, my ignorance is a beautiful concept. No matter where I travel to when I’m in the country, it will be new experience. And I will feel that surging high of excitement at each “new discovery.” This can be as simple as a pleasant park in Buenos Aires, or as involved as my first glimpse of Mt. Fitzroy.

While I’m at it, why plan anything at all? I’m going to bring a map. I’m going to start in Ushuaia, and somehow I’m hopeful that I will end up in Buenos Aires by January 30. What I experience in between is the great unknown. This is how I want it.

Now, this might mean I may not get a place to sleep every night, or food on a regular basis, and I might have to wait a week before I can catch a ride on a bus to my next town. That’s the way it goes. That’s all part of the fun.

I’m inclined to admire the wisdom of Lin Yutang who wrote, “A true traveler is always a vagabond, with the joys, temptations and sense of adventure of the vagabond. Either travel is ‘vagabonding’ or it is no travel at all. The essence of travel is to have no duties, no fixed hours, no mail, no inquisitive neighbors, and no destination. A good traveler is one who does not know where he is going.”

Last Ride on the Columbia

Before I leave the country, I still have some business to take care of in this one. Namely, finishing the River season, and positioning the ship down to Los Angeles, California.

The Columbia has been good to me this year, but I’m ready to move on to other adventures. In nine days, I’ll be unemployed. This thought doesn’t scare me; I’ve been unemployed before, and will be again. At heart, I’m a writer, a rambler and a photographer. I just don’t make any monetary gains with my passions. I’m ready for a change, though. If anybody has any ideas what I should do for my next occupation, I’d be interested in hearing what you have to say. I’m certain something will work out, I’m just curious to see what that will be.

Autumnal Romp

The thigh high grass was wet from the rain that had fallen the night before. The autumn wind is like smoke. It carries a tang of something soothing, sweet, and earthy decay. The sky was mostly cloudy, but large patches of pale blue sky were forming above me. It appeared the rain had passed, at least for now. I follow a mule deer trail as it rises along the steep grassy bluff to where the black basalt outcrops break through the earth. High atop the rock eyre, I pause for a moment to admire the view. The Palouse River is far below stretching wide between the steep canyon walls. This is the confluence, where the Palouse and Snake Rivers join in Southeast Washington.

I move on; walking easily among the wind swept grasses and bobbing prairie sunflowers. The only part of the flower left on the stalk is the center, which has turned a dark Dijon beige. In the distance, the bluff rises higher to more basalt outcrops. I’m happy. I love early morning autumn jaunts through beautiful landscapes. Who doesn’t?

I reach the first of the section of columns, and I know I have found what I am looking for. It’s peaceful here. It’s far away from the ship, and the view is spectacular. I put down my backpack, and start composing pictures. I take a few shots, but I’m waiting for the light to get better.

In the meanwhile, I sit on top of the highest rock column. The column has layered horizontal sections of basalt piled on top of one another. Wind and water have eroded it over the eons into a beautiful sculptured piece of stone. If this rock were to crumble, I would plummet off the face of the cliff reforming myself into a twisted pile of broken bones upon impact. I’m not worried about that just now, as the view is excellent. The wind is buffeting my back, letting me know that its there to support me. I drink some water. I eat a granola bar, and a kiwi. Life is good.

I love the landscapes of this region. If it weren’t for the fabricated infrastructure that dots the land, I’d think I was in Mongolia.

Palouse Falls

Later in the morning, I find myself perched high above Palouse Falls. I love this waterfall, and I love the park that contains it. It’s one of my favorite in all of Washington.

The wind is amazing. It whips the waterfall spray, dragging it high above the waterfall on a strong updraft. The cloud swirls in the air, forming the symbol for the number nine (my lucky number) for the briefest of moments. I smile. I love noticing quiet details.

The wind gusts pluck leaves from trees on the rim of the canyon and carry them far out into the gaping void. They never get a chance to touch the ground. They fall for twenty feet before twirling upward in the draft high overhead. They disappear in the distance, and I am envious.

I love autumn.

Photos That Didn’t Belong

In a given week, I’ll take many photos that I enjoy, but don’t fit the scheme of what I’m writing about. Since I’m nearing the end of a work period, I thought I would share with you some of my favorite misfits that didn’t find a home.

Author’s Note: The line, “The autumn wind is like smoke” is taken from Lin Yutang’s classic, The Importance of Living. I love that line, but I felt quotations would have been distracting in context. I give him his deserved credit here. Thanks.

I am at a very interesting juncture at my life right now. I’ve just quit my job, I’ve recently broken up with my girlfriend, and I’m setting off on another epic adventure with no far placed vision as to where it will lead or end. Lately, there have been moments in my day when I think about my situation, and start chuckling, or even break out in full on laughter. Life sure is interesting, and you just never know what twists the next path will hold.

In the last three days, I’ve traveled from the Pacific cooled beauty of Magdalena Bay on the west coast of the Baja peninsula across the barren deserted peninsula by van to La Paz. From La Paz, I flew down to Mexico City, to connect to Chicago, and finally found myself knee deep in a cold winter snowy wonderland that is the Keweenaw Peninsula of Michigan in late January.

I have been finishing my tenure as a deckhand on the good ship Sea Bird, and I have had no ambition to work at all, no interest in painting anything else, or improving the boat in any way. I was done, and waiting for January 28th to roll around which marks the beginning of the next path.

Since I really wasn’t working very hard, it gave me plenty of time to hang out with my friends on the boat, and I was lucky indeed to have a lot of familiar and friendly faces show up at some point during my last two months on the job. Having good friends around led me down the path of very little sleep trying to cram in as much desert exploration, and conversations that I could with my mates on the boat.

When I did sleep, it was out of necessity, and I often slipped away to unconsciousness wondering what is going to happen next.

Finally, the big day came when it was time to leave, I was up early to pack, and clean up my cabin. I went around to my friends remaining onboard the ship to wish them farewell. Then, without looking back, I began the first steps of the rest of my life, and my next adventure. My life and adventure often walk hand in hand, and, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The van ride across the desert was great. My good friend Amelia was driving, I was riding shotgun sipping cold Mexican beer, and digging the sights of new roads. It was quiet, and we enjoyed an amiable conversation as the hours passed. In the other van, was most of the crew I had been working with for the last year, and they were having a loud boisterous car ride punctuated with shots of tequila, and cheap beer. I was glad I was in Ame’s car, because I was too exhausted to put up with that rabble.

On two occasions, we stopped for a pee break. Now, Mexican roads are without rest areas. So if you have to go, you pull off on side of the road, find a cactus to your liking and let fly. There is no privacy, and the barren landscape offers little if any protection.

We all piled out, ten of us at a time, and had at it. You have never seen anything so funny in your life. There were ten half-drunk gringos, piling out of two pure white vehicles, giggling, laughing and yelling. Each of us chose a spot, some faced traffic and peed right in plain sight, and others ran off into the desert to pee on a cactus. One guy, inadvertently chose to pee on himself, a fact he was not aware of at the time (sorry folks, it wasn’t me).

Having been a lands surveyor for 8 years, I was used to peeing with little cover in public places, and I used one of the doors, and the rest of a vehicle to block the wind and passing cars.

It was great fun, and I highly recommend a Mexican pee break given the opportunity. We made it to La Paz, unscathed.

I had a quiet night in La Paz. I went out for a pizza with a friend, and since neither one of us knew much Spanish, we weren’t sure what we were going to end up with. I have to say, we did pretty well for ourselves. The pizza was delicious, and I have very high standard for my pizza. We returned to the hotel, and I passed out from exhaustion and carbohydrate overload.

I slept for about six hours. Then I jumped out of bed, threw on my clothes, grabbed my bags and went down to the lobby to catch a cab to the airport. I was tired. I was a bit uneasy. I had never flown into the U.S. before from a foreign country, and flying to Mexico City. On the ship, Mexico City International Airport is deemed “The worst airport in the world.” I was told many varied tales of torture that the crew had experienced while traveling though Mexico City.

I trusted their advice, but knew that most of these people hadn’t flown through there in a few years. For my situation, the fastest way to get home was to go through there, and so I figured to try my luck in Mexico City.

When I landed, I stepped aboard a bus that shipped us to Terminal 2. From there I was on my own, and so I started making some educated guesses to find my way to Terminal 1. I know I looked like that guy who doesn’t know what was going on, but without having any idea of the layout of the place, I found my way to the elevated train which took me to terminal 1. Once there, I followed the signs to international flights, found American Airlines kiosk, and stepped through three sets of id checks and sat down to wait for my plane.

It was no big deal. Maybe I’m just lucky.

I landed in Michigan at 11:20 at night. It was 14 degrees (F) out. I was wearing jeans and my adventure shirt, shoes and my wool watch cap. I was cold, exhausted, and happy to see my brother. I was even happier to see my checked bag arrive. How can the airlines get my bag from La Paz to Michigan without any problems, but can’t seem to get it there from Ohio?

I settled in at my brother’s house and fell into a deep sleep. The adventure begins when I wake up. I’ll be off to Duluth, Mn, St. Paul, St. Michael, and then drive across country to northern Idaho…

Onward!

This entry is somewhat special to me, as it marks one hundred small chapters I have had the pleasure of presenting to you. My blog has surprised me. I never expected it to be as fun as it is to write, or how many people I’ve been able to reach with my twisted, yet well-timed views of this universe.

When I started writing about my travels way back in November of 2009, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I didn’t know if my writing would be like so many of my other “projects” that I’ve been intensely interested in, only to let them fall by the wayside. I’ve had a variety of doomed projects such as: learning Hawaiian, Spanish, and German (I‘ve a short attention span). I‘ve also given up ice skating (for good) bottle collecting, volunteering, golf, ventriloquism, and geology among many others. However, at the time I really wanted to start writing again. I had been to some cool places, and I had plans of going to many more. I knew I was leading an interesting life and I wanted to share it with others. At the time, I didn’t quite know where I fit into the whole scheme, but in time, I knew I wanted to inspire people to go play outside and see the world for themselves. I also wanted to show off my photos, a gift that I’m quite happy in sharing with you.

I’ve always been a better photographer than a writer, so to those of you who simply enjoy or review the photos I thank you for your time. For those of you who waste perfectly good minutes of your day and actually delve into the text and struggle through my invincible wall of typographical and grammatical errors, you have my respect, both of you. I can only imagine the fun you have trying to understand my awkward metaphors. At times, I have to try hard to get what I want to say written correctly and sometimes words fail the imagery I’m trying to relate.

Here's what I find interesting. People from the US, Canada, Great Britain have visited my site the most often. People from Afghanistan, Estonia and Zimbabwe have spent the most time reading the entries. I’m quite surprised and delighted at who has read about my travels. It has truly stretched across the globe, and I’m excited that strangers from around the world can read what a rambler like me is doing with my life. The planet is smaller than ever thanks to electronics.

I’m going to look back at some of my old photos and entries to reminisce and think of my past excursions. This is a good self-analysis of my craft more than anything else. I will repost thirty of my favorite photographs from the last one hundred entries, and tell you a bit more about each one.

Above all, I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to listen to what I have to say. I have had a good run, and an author is useless without an audience. In particular, I’d like to thank the good people at Travellerspoint (www.travellerspoint.com) who’ve put together a fantastic travel website free of charge. They also have taken notice and featured my blog (five times), photos, and have answered my questions. They’ve opened some doors for my craft that otherwise probably would’ve remained closed, lost in large pile of other traveler’s stories.

For those of you who want to know more about Travellerspoint, it is a website designed by travelers for travelers. It has well over a quarter of a million members, and offers free blogging, mapping, and photography. They have a featured blogs, travel photos, a travel forum to discuss anything travel related, a travel guide written by members, and an accommodations page to help you plan your travels. It is a fantastic site, and one I’m damn glad to be a part of.

Thirty of my Favorite Places

Rain and Sun

I was leaving the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic Nat‘l Park. It was February. The campground was freezing cold, deserted and lonesome. I grew restless. I was hopped up on the high-powered coffee that I had been drinking all afternoon. As I drove out, the heavy clouds broke apart briefly in front of the setting sun lighting up the road and the intense rain shower I was driving through. I stopped the van, and took this photo out of my driver side window. Sometimes you only have a split second to decide if you are going to go for the picture or not. My advice? Shoot first. Drive later.

Self Portrait- City of Rocks
I love the City of Rocks. It was late afternoon, and I had just finished bouldering for the day. I was setting up some climbing shots when I experimented with my shadow on the rock. I stretched my lanky frame and tripped the shutter.

Diving into beautiful Lake Superior

This photo had perfect timing. I took it on the first attempt, looking at my watch and guessing when I should be airborne. At the time, I was shooting film and didn’t know if I had the shot or not, so I took half a dozen takes. Luckily, my guess was right on.

Sunrise and Ice

Excerpt from my journal:
“I started my day with a debate. ‘Should I go out and take in the sunrise, or not.’ It's not an easy discussion to have with yourself. I decided to set up a system of rewards; a.k.a hot coffee and a muffin upon my return. Outside: cold, snow crunching, slicing wind. Protected by 1970's big green jacket, I find the atmosphere awash with an intense orange quality that sparkles magnificently on the ice. Like a 10 minute wink, the eye of the sun opens briefly, then is gone. Satisfaction. I find my rewards, listen to Yo Yo Ma play some Bach (appropriate), and happily plunk myself in front of my cheery fire. Good morning.”

Bull Elk at Dawn

I’ve always wanted a good elk shot. Up until this point, I had many pictures of the ass end of an elk, which was somewhat awkward to both the elk and myself. Finally, one magical winter dawn in Yellowstone Nat’l Park I was driving east from Mammoth to go Nordic skiing when I saw two elk on side of the road. I used my van as a blind and took this photo just as the sun crept over the side of the distant mountain.

Madison Valley and Rocky Mountains

Montana is awesome. This is taken just off the highway near and is a fine example of Montana’s alluring wide-open spaces.

A Rainbow and Passing Storm

I was staying at Bruneau Dunes State Park in Idaho when a very powerful storm rolled through. The intense storm packed a punch and the rain pounded the van. It was a fast moving squall however, and sunlight soon lit up the clouds that had passed by. I jumped out to take advantage of the beautiful lighting. I was busy taking pictures of the trunk of this tree and its shadow when a rainbow appeared. I took this photo, set up for another, and my battery died.

Crab in Death

I was biking on the hard packed sand of Cape Lookout State Park in Oregon when I came upon this crab sprawled out in a good dramatic death pose. I put my lens very close to it, crouching down in the wet sand. I wanted to convey the crab as my subject, yet show the expansive beach and surf at low tide. I still like this photo.

Moss Coverage

I worked hard to get the angle just right for this photo. There were a lot of distracting sticks poking out of the water that I wanted to eliminate. After ten minutes of fussing, I finally found it.

Sitka Landscapes

I went for a bike ride out to Jablonski Island one evening in early May. I was heading out to John Brown’s Beach when the sun cracked with intensity through a small window in the cloud highlighting the fishing boats, town and Spruce in very warm color but leaving the mountains in heavy gloom.

Devil’s Club and Waterfall

I really love the intensity of the green of the Devil Club, and surrounding brush compared to the whiteness of the waterfall. If you like green, go hike through the temperate rain forests of Southeast Alaska to see the wide varieties of Earth’s most common color.

Embracing Alaska

This is still one of my favorite photos and the best example of what I am all about. I had hiked up to Beaver Lake near Sitka, Alaska with a friend of mine. We found the rowboat, bailed it out, plugged the holes as best we could and rowed out onto the lake. I spied this log sticking out of the water and inspiration struck. I had her row me over to it, so I could climb up on it and pose while I shouted to her how to compose the photo. What you don’t know is that my finger on my right hand is painfully numb and bleeding profusely as I had sandwiched it between the bow of our rowboat and the log before I climbed up.

Free Spirit in North Dakota

I found this field of rapeseed (horrible name) near my campground at Devil’s Lake, North Dakota. It made a beautiful backdrop, and it was easy to set up this self-portrait. I was thinking of how damn good it was to see the Great Plains in color for once, and how free I felt.

The Caboose

This caboose sits silently near the small town of Poplar, Wisconsin. I passed it one afternoon as I was driving by and stopped and turned around. Too often in the past, I had blown by scenes that intrigued me. I often regretted it. Not this time, I stopped, left the van running, ran over into the clover and buttercups, got low and took the photo. Everything was perfect, and I haven’t seen this caboose in such conditions since.

Playing with shadow on an untouched beach

It had been raining all day, and I had sat inside through all of it. Bored, I decided to go watch the sunset down on the beach. I was surprised when the low angled sun broke through the dark clouds and lit up the sand and forest. I set up a self-portrait and posed as to give myself a long, funky shadow.

Cloud clearing in Sitka

I was trying to sneak up on some blue herons that were feeding in the estuary, near Sitka. I was bumbling around on the boardwalk as loud as I could, and the herons had all flown away by the time I “snuck” up on them. Disgusted with myself for not being quiet, I walked around to the front of the river when this scene unfurled in front of me. The clouds briefly cleared in front of the mountain peaks and the sun showed bright through the high clouds lighting up the meadow and river beautifully. No herons this time, but I captured one of my favorite Alaskan memories instead.

A Vibrant End to Autumn

This was the only photo I took on this day. I was walking in my mom’s yard and these maple leaves struck me as being particularly vibrant. I started thinking about the last leaf of autumn, and a short story formed in my head about it.

Oak Leaf and Wave

A quiet Zen moment of early winter.

Moonset

I had been watching this full moon all night. I had just gotten off work, and I had a few minutes to grab my camera and compose this shot before the sun came up. It was a magical morning with moon on one side of us, and the sunrise on the other. I preferred this moon.

Cactus, Kayakers and the SeaBird

I often compose the desert landscapes of Baja with the surrounding sea. I had just descended a high mountain peak on Isla Danzante when I noticed two kayakers about to cross the small cove. I saw my composition, setting up a leading line of cactus, kayakers, and the Seabird in the distance. I waited for them to separate a little and snapped the shutter.

An Arc of Dolphins

I took hundreds of dolphin shots down in Baja, but none of them were as well timed as this one. For every hundred shots of the spray of where a dolphin had just been airborne, you might get one nice one. Luck was with me this day.

The Coyote

This coyote passed within 4 feet of where I was standing on the ski trail in Yellowstone Nat’l park. I will never forget it.

Standing man statue

I went for a bike ride in La Paz, Baja California Sur. As I headed back into the sun, this shadow and statue caught my eye. Luckily, I had the sidewalk to myself. I was in the right place at the right time, and took my opportunity.

White fences of Idaho

While biking along “The Trail of the Coeur d’alene” I biked by these brilliant white fences and barns of a horse ranch. Since it was winter, and the world was drab, I turned to black and white to help contrast the scene, and let the fences be my leading line.

Water colors at dawn

I love this kind of water. This is as brilliant and colorful as I’ve ever seen it. It was just before dawn in the Sea of Cortez, and the sky was fiery orange and pink with a wonderful sunrise.

The end of the earth

Cabo San Lucas is home to a tip of land made of majestically carved rock called the end of the earth. Because the entire city of Cabo is a blown up little America, and the cape is beleaguered by tour boats and chaos, I was lucky to compose this shot without anything manmade appearing in it. I like this shot, because I was able enough to eliminate all the hubbub of the place and capture a quiet and compelling moment when the cape was quiet just before dark.

Strong-armed cactus landscape

This Cardon Cactus was unique. It looked like to me, that a man was buried to his waste holding his hands straight up. I was wandering among the unique boojum trees found only in this part of Mexico when I stumbled upon this cactus.

Ame and Thom’s album cover

We had gone for a stroll down by the Santa Cruz lighthouse and there were huge concrete forms used to protect the light called riprap. I had been playing around on them while Ame made a phone call. When she was done, I had her come and join me for a photo. She perched up high, and I sat low and the shot was perfect. Part of what makes travelling special is the people you meet along the way. I've met a lot of good people, I would never had met if I had stayed home.

Ice detail

I’ll never forget this iceberg. It was the most uniquely colored berg I’ve ever seen, and I was mesmerized by blue. This berg wouldn’t look nearly so vibrant under a sunny sky, and fortunately we had a foggy drizzle to witness this masterpiece.

Islands in the mist

The mists of southeast Alaska are amazing. When they begin to break up and dissipate, it creates beautiful land and seascapes where the mists mingle with mountain, islands, sea and sky.

Brown bear fishing

I had been hoping to see a brown bear up close all year. In August, the salmon begin to run up the small streams of the islands and the bears come in for the feast. This bear was one of three who were fishing in Pavlov cove on the day we visited. I had just woken up, and the chief mate asked me if I wanted to go and look at the bears. I grabbed my camera hopped in a zodiac wearing shorts, light fleece and flip-flops. We rode up the small stream where we could see the bears. I hopped out of the zodiac and walked up the shore to the join the mob that watched these bears fish beneath the falls. I took this picture, caught my ride back to the boat and ate breakfast.

The Ohio and Erie Canal

I love how grown in and swampy this picture looks. This was once a viable shipping canal running between Cleveland and Akron. It’s good to see nature reclaim its territory after man abandons their work.

The next one hundred entries begin once again in Alaska. I’ll be back aboard the NGS Seabird sailing south on a two week photo trip through Alaska and British Columbia. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a while, and so I here I go again.

“We were curious. Our curiosity was not limited, but was as wide and horizon less as that of Darwin, Agassiz or Linneaus or Pliny. We wanted to see everything our eyes would accommodate, to think what we could, and, out of our seeing and thinking, to build some kind of structure in modeled imitation of the observed reality.” The Log From the Seas of Cortez, by Steinbeck.