tshanman

[tshanman]

A Brief Stop in Astoria…

Since Nancy and I were celebrating our 30th anniversary, we decided to take a break from the road and explore the town of Astoria from more luxurious digs.

 Astoria sits on the Oregon side of the Columbia River.  The bridge spanning the river to Astoria, the Astoria-Megler Bridge, is 4.1 miles across and is the longest truss bridge in the U.S.

 Our digs for the stay were at the Cannery Pier Hotel, a spectacular pet-friendly lodge built on the site of a former cannery.  The hotel is perched on a pier jutting into the Columbia River where boats going up and down the river pass under the bridge. 

  Every room is on the river side of the hotel, each with a private balcony and stunning views of the river traffic.

 The high point in town is the Astoria Column, sitting atop Coxcomb Hill.

Built in 1926, the Roman style column soars 125 feet over the top of Coxcomb Hill.

 The exterior of the column shows scenes of the early exploration of Oregon, including Lewis and Clark, who confirmed the existence of a northwest passage when they discovered the mouth of the Columbia River.

 The way to the top is a narrow 164-step circular stairway inside the column, with little room to pass other visitors heading the other way.

 We also explored the Columbia River Maritime Museum, well worth the visit.  

I was captivated by the Coast Guard Motor Lifeboat CG-44300, which is displayed in the front room of the museum.  Yes this is the actual boat, not a model.  It was launched in 1940 and served as a rescue boat in the region for decades.

During it’s years of service it performed many rescues, but the most remarkable event occurred when CG-44300 was docked inside it’s boathouse..  A 10,000 ton Peruvian freighter loaded with lumber lost it’s steerage and plowed into the boathouse, shoving both the boathouse and CG-44300 through the docks.  CG-44300, which ended up underneath all the wreckage and under the water, was presumed lost.  But when they cleared the wreckage, she bobbed up out of the water and righted herself.  Truly remarkable!

 The dock outside the Maritime Museum is both a Coast Guard pier...

 …as well as home to the historic Lightship Columbia.  The Columbia was the last of four lightships moored at the mouth of the Columbia River, where the shifting sandbar earned this treacherous passage the moniker, “Graveyard of the Pacific.”  The Columbia was permanently stationed there with a rotating 18-man (yes, they were all men) crew.  The boat’s position and lights helped to safely guide boats across the “Bar.”

 A lovely walking and riding path parallels the railroad tracks along the bank of the mighty Columbia River.   There are beautiful views all along the river.

 Was this ship the victim of a fraternity prank?

The best views of all were outside the windows of our comfortable Cannery Pier Hotel room, as you’ll see below.

A stunning sunset marks the end of a fun day in Astoria.

[tshanman]

Olympic Peninsula & the Washington Coast

We spent a lovely week exploring the Olympic Peninsula and the Washington Coast.  The peninsula is an isolated area filled with rain forests, wide isolated beaches, and high mountains.

Driving west from Pt. Townsend, the 17-mile drive up to Hurricane Ridge offered the best view of our surroundings.  It’s a winding road that rises from near-sea level to more than 5,200 feet.

The skies were spectacular, and we could see for miles.  This picture shows the Olympic Mountains, which fill the center of the 5,500 sq. mile Olympic Peninsula.

And the two pictures below show the highest point, Mt. Olympus, at nearly 8,000 feet.

This is the western most point of the continental United States, and directly north of the peninsula is Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

The water in the distance is the Strait of Juan de Fuca.  It’s hard to see, but that landmass beyond the strait is Vancouver Island and the city of Victoria.

If you’ve never been there, you may not realize just how impressive the Olympic Peninsula is.  A drive around the outer perimeter on Washington’s Highway 101 runs 337 miles.  It rains a lot here—around 200 inches each year.  There are 60 glaciers and 73 miles of coastline.   Here are some highlights from our time there:

Ferns line the trail in the Hoh Rain Forest.

This moss-covered tree looked pre-historic.

We spent two relaxing days hiking the trails around Lake Quinault, a 30-mile long idyllic setting on the southern edge of the Peninsula.

Boats for rent.

Lovely trails surrounded by lush forest.

One section of the trail led past the historic Lake Quinault Lodge.

The original lodge, built in 1894, burned to the ground just 30 years later.  The current lodge was built in 1926.  Designed by Robert Reamer, the architect who also designed Yellowstone’s Old Faithful Inn, it took just 53 days to complete construction. We walked through the lodge.  It has a rustic elegance.  The main room has a large fireplace and windows looking out over the lake.  Even though we weren’t guests, we sat on the front lawn enjoying the view from Adirondack chairs, a lovely break.

Lake Quinault is home to this towering Sitka Spruce, the largest Sitka Spruce in the world, according to the National Forestry Association.  It’s 191 feet tall and believed to be about 1,000 years old.

With Nancy sitting on the roots you can see just how enormous it is.  Its circumference is 55’ and more than 17 feet across.

 The lake was exquisite, especially at sunset (two pictures below).

This isn’t Nancy and me, but I think it captured something wonderful about the quiet solitude of the place.

 Grayland Beach State Park sits on Washington’s coast just south of Gray’s Harbor.  This was one of the odder RV Campgrounds we stayed in.  

Located on a wild and isolated stretch of coastline, the park itself seemed too perfectly groomed.

Every thing was perfectly neat, and organized—too perfectly neat and organized, with very few people around.  We called it the Stepford campground.

 But the beach there was something else.

Very wide, expansive and breathtaking.  The sand was mounded into mini-dunes held together with small, hardy plants.  It was unusually easy to walk here, and there was nary another soul around.

The dark clouds of a nearby passing storm made a dramatic scene.

And the wind kicked up a low altitude sand storm, with the blowing lighter-colored sand just a few inches off the ground.  

 Our final Washington stop was Cape Disappointment, where the mighty Columbia River pours into the sea.

This is a small cove on the Pacific that we passed as we hiked out to the point.

This remarkably detailed bronze commemorates the site where Meriwether Lewis first spied the Pacific Ocean, confirming the success of his and William Clark’s famous expedition.

The Cape Disappointment Lighthouse marks the north side of the shipping entrance into the Columbia River. They call this area the graveyard of the Pacific.  The river mouth is called “the Bar,” because of the huge amount of sand that builds up there in a constantly changing obstruction.  It’s so treacherous that the National Transportation & Safety Board has designated the Bar as “a specially hazardous area.”  It’s the only stretch of coastline given this designation in the United States, and specially trained “bar pilots” take command of large ships transiting the entrance.

Below the lighthouse is a Coast Guard lookout.  They watch the channel to make sure no one gets in trouble and to guide any boats heading into dangerous waters.

That’s one very serious pair of binoculars.

These two Coast Guard boats were training in one of the dangerous areas of the river mouth.

The river mouth is wide. Really wide!  The small spit of land at the left is still part of Washington. The river mouth is out beyond that. And the Oregon side of the river is four miles away.

Here’s the river mouth from the opposite side.  The small structure resting on a bluff on the far side is the Cape Disappointment lighthouse.

   The next two pictures show a large boat navigating the entrance.

Once ships have safely entered the river itself, they find calmer waters.

This view is from a hill in Astoria, OR, just across the river from Washington.  From here, the river seemed much calmer, but no less impressive.

[tshanman]

A Former Fort

Historic Fort Casey State Park is perched on a bluff looking across the Puget Sound to the Olympic Peninsula.  This strategic site looking over the entrance to the Puget Sound was first occupied in 1859 when the original Admiralty Head Lighthouse was built to aid navigation.

The current “newer” lighthouse was built in 1903, at the same time the defensive batteries at Ft Casey were under construction.

   From the water, the bluffs of Ft. Casey look attractive and benign.

    But from behind, the extensive fortifications are impressive, as you can see in the next two photos.

The fortification was made up of ten self-contained batteries, each housing guns, ammunition (shot and powder were housed separately), and all of the mechanisms to control loading, sighting, and aiming these massive guns.  Loading the guns was no easy feat given each shell weighted 670 pounds.

   The battery commander stations were tall towers with narrow lookouts built behind the guns.

   Despite their height, from the sea the commander’s stations were barely visible.

   But they had a commanding view across the sound.

In all, there were 19 guns and 16 mortars housed at Ft. Casey.  The largest were sixteen 12-inch mortars, and seven 10-inch “disappearing” guns.  The guns were ingeniously designed with counter weights.  The weights were released just before firing, raising the guns out of their concrete protective barrier.  When the guns were fired, the recoil lowered the guns back down into their hidden loading position.

The two pictures below show one gun in the lowered position, and another in the raised position ready to fire.

   It was assumed that any attack would come at night, so the fort also had five 60-inch searchlights capable of sending a beam across the wide sound.    

Since the lights could easily become targets for any enemy, soldiers controlled the movement and aiming of they lights from remote locations.

    In more innocent days, I’ve enjoyed touring historic military installations, fascinated by the ingenuity they demonstrate and the history they tell.  It sure felt different this time.  While I still found Ft. Casey fascinating, I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that this was of a more innocent time.  And now the man who commands our military might, has the maturity of a belligerent tantrum-throwing 5-year old.

For whatever it’s worth, I’m happy to report that through its decades of operation, Ft. Casey never fired a single shell against an enemy.  

[tshanman]

Clear Air, Wild Currents...

Deception Pass is a heavily wooded stretch of land where Whidbey and Fidalgo islands meet in the Puget Sound.  The area was named in 1792 when Captain George Vancouver wrote “Deception Pass” on his chart because the large land masses north and south of Pass Island, which is the small island between the two deep channels, had deceived him into thinking it was all one island.

   In this picture, Fidalgo Island is on the left, Whidbey on the right, and the small piece of land supporting the two bridges in the middle is Pass Island.

After more than a week of mostly smoky air, the fresh breezes coming off the Puget Sound were a welcome relief.  Over two days we hiked all over the north end of Whidbey Island, and across both bridges. From above, the two narrow channels underneath the bridge are quite dramatic.

    The picture above is from Deception Pass Bridge between Whidbey and Pass islands.

    And this channel is from Canoe Pass Bridge, between Fidalgo and Pass islands.

    As the changing tide flows through the narrow channels, it actually creates small rapids.

    The tidal currents are so powerful as they wrap around Deception Island (at right) toward the two channels that they create a large whirlpool of current.

    After more than a week of intense forest fire smoke, we were astonished that we could see the snow on Mt. Baker, nearly 50 miles away. 

Our hikes took us past two picturesque lakes on the southern portion of Deception Pass on Whidbey Island—Cranberry Lake and Quarry Pond.  

Cranberry Lake is the largest lake in the park.  The next four photographs were all shot along its shores.

   Quarry Pond was just a short hike away.

The stillness of the water made me think of Walden Pond, though I’ve never actually been there. The calm reflective waters felt very meditative.

The hiking trails throughout Deception Pass were easy to follow and wandered through wildly different environments in the park.  

This shaded stretch was lovely relief on a warm day.

      These tall trees followed a steep cliff that overlooked the beautiful Pacific Ocean.

    On the Park’s north side, the less-than-creatively named North Beach stretched for more than a mile.

    On the beach, this large natural sculpture of driftwood stood out against the ocean.

   This root ball from a fallen tree reminded us of either a bird or a jumping porpoise.

    Here Nancy is our trailblazer, discovering a point where the trail emerges out onto a cliff top viewpoint.

    From the cliff tops, we could see a heron, deep in the channel.

   Ferns and the thick green moss coating the top of this fallen tree serve as a reminder of just how much rain falls in this area annually—more than 25”.

The high point of our hike was Goose Rock, and from the top, we could see stunning views.  That’s where we saw Mt. Baker’s snow covered slopes.  And in another direction, we could see the main entrance to Puget Sound.

   The open ocean to the left is the entrance to Puget Sound.  The island in the center is Deception Island.

   After a long day of hiking, Nancy took this picture of Archie and me hanging out by the RV, a welcome rest after a thoroughly satisfying day of hiking for all of us.

[tshanman]

Where there’s smoke…

For months Nancy and I have been planning our second RV adventure, this time throughout the Pacific Northwest.  So Tuesday before Labor Day we packed Archie into the RV, and as planned, headed north through Nevada, Idaho and Montana to Glacier National Park.  Our plan was to spend three days exploring this magnificent national treasure.  

You may have heard about the forest fires in Glacier, and we can personally confirm the news reports were not kidding.  The closer we got to the park, the smokier the air became.

By the time we settled in at the Fish Creek Campground at the south end of Lake McDonald, the smell of burning forest filled the air.   Across the lake we could see the smoke pouring off the mountainside.  The day before we arrived, the historic back country Sperry Chalet, built in 1913, was lost.  

Here’s a picture of kayakers in the waters of Lake McDonald.   If you look closely above where the two yellow kayaks meet, you can see what looks like the edge of a mountain rising up to the left.  That’s not a mountain ridge, that’s the fire line!

After a day, the smoke and heat got the best of us, and we headed east around the south end of the park and north into Canada.  Later that day, they evacuated the park.  Our drive took us straight through the worst of the downwind smoke.  We carried on with eyes burning, and once we got to clearer air, the size of the fire plume from the east side of Glacier was impressive.

In Canada, our destination was Waterton Lakes National Park.  The park is contiguous to Glacier, but in Canada, it’s named for the large lake at the heart of the Canadian side’s park.  Cool fact:  back in 1921, the two parks—Glacier and Waterton—became the World’s first International Peace Park, a reflection of our two countries shared vision of peace and cooperation along our shared border, the longest undefended border in the world. The two parks now also share international recognition as a world heritage site.

Lake Waterton is a lovely town inside the park set on the shores of its namesake lake.

On a hill overlooking the town sits the historic Prince of Wales Hotel, a “railroad” hotel built in 1927.  The Canadian railways built many grand hotels between the turn of the last century and the second world war to attract tourists to these spectacular but remote sites.

Our digs were considerably less palatial, but nevertheless, homey.  In the background, you can see smoke from the Glacier fires more than 50 miles away, obscuring the mountaintops.

After days of eye-burning smoke, we woke on day two in Waterton to clear air, a welcoming site and fitting, since it was Nancy’s birthday.

We set off on a hike to nearby Bertha Lake, an 8-mile hike with 1500 foot elevation change.

It struck us that you probably wouldn’t see this in very many U.S. Parks—a lovely place to just sit and contemplate the natural beauty.

The trail was lovely.

And the views as we rose to the higher elevations were captivating.

When we finally reached Bertha Lake, it did not disappoint.

Unfortunately, the next day we woke to more smoky skies caused by a new fire burning just outside Waterton National Park.  After a drive west through the Canadian countryside, we reentered the U.S.  Our destination that night was Sandpoint, ID, but a helpful border-crossing official warned us that due to the many fires burning throughout the Pacific Northwest, Sandpoint officially had the worst air quality in the country. We believed her.

So we continued on to Spokane, where the next morning I took a quick walk along the downtown riverfront. The smoke-filled air colored the bright morning sunlight a sickly pale shade more reminiscent of a fading sunset.

Thankfully, following a quick but wonderful visit with an old friend in Walla Walla, we next headed for the Olympic Peninsula, where, the prevailing winds off the ocean have kept the air clean and clear.   More on this part of our trip soon.

[tshanman]

Shirakawa-Go’s Praying Hands

Not far from Takayama, Shirakawa-go is a small mountain region filled with traditional thatched roof homes built to withstand the weight of heavy winter snow.

The three villages in the valley have existed since the 11th century.  The style of construction, called Gassho-zukuri which means “constructed like hands in prayer,” is unique in all of Japan.  The three villages are a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  

All of the homes here orient in the same direction.  This allows the prevailing breezes that run the length of the valley to ventilate the homes both from summer heat and the smoke from winter warming fires.

When a roof needs to be replaced, the whole village turns out so that the old roof can be removed and the new one replaced in one day, keeping the interior protected.  

Not only have the homes been preserved, but also the agricultural way of life, and the inter-relationships  between family groups.  The large home on the far side of the main group of fields in this photo belongs to one of the village leaders.

Every home seemed to have an adjacent field for planting rice or other crops.

The thatch is stacked and dried under a large shelter.

Even in this rural setting, great attention is paid to gardens.

Our guide Tomi took us to the Kanda house, where a family has opened up their home to tourists so we could see how they lived.

The houses, which can be as much as four stories high, are heated from a central cooking and heating area. The ceilings on each floor have an area that allows the heat to rise up to higher levels, warming each floor and ventilating the smoke.

The homes are designed to house 20-30 people on the lower floors.  Traditionally the upper floors were used to raise silkworms and weave silk. But in the 70’s, the silk market was largely replaced by synthetics.  Here are the old silk worm trays they used to use.

The construction of these houses is remarkable from the inside.  This curved beam, called a chonabari, is cut from a single tree and spans the width of the home, providing structural integrity that holds the angled outer sides of the home in place.

At the very peak, you can see the beams are held together with hand-tied rope.  This is the traditional way of construction that is still maintained today.

This is the woman who proudly shared her home with us.  While neither of us spoke the other’s language, her smile said all we needed to know.

[tshanman]

Takayama’s Rustic Charm

Takayama, a city of about 60,000, lies on the side of Japan’s Central Alps in the Hida region.  It’s a town that has maintained its traditional touch with a beautifully preserved old town dating from the Edo period, which spanned the 17th & 18th centuries.

(By the way, I need to inject a brief apology here.  Halfway through our time in Japan I discovered that my primary camera lens is not working correctly, and the exposure is off on many of my pictures.)

Honjin Hiranoya Bekka, our home for three days, is a traditional ryokan next to the Miya-Gowa river that flows through town.

This was the most traditional ryokan of our entire trip. Our space consists of one room made up of 10 or 12 Tatami mats.  We sleep on futons on the floor, which, during the day are replaced with a low table where, at dinner-time, we eat our traditional kaiseke multi-course dinner.

Directly across the river from Honjin Hiranoya Bekka, old town Takayama has narrow streets and wood lattice buildings that are hundreds of years old, but perfectly maintained—homes, small shops, restaurants and saki breweries.

Even though the area is ancient by our standards, and a busy tourist destination, everything is neat, clean and cared for with loving attention.

Saki breweries are always marked with a large ball of cedar leaves above the door.

Another thing we learned is that the strips of fabric hanging in a doorway—called noren—are more than decorative…

…businesses hang their noren out as a welcome mat.  The hangings shows they are open for business.

And even in the back of the smallest shop, you’ll often discover a  lovely garden area.

There are two things noticeably absent from the streets of Takayama and many other Japanese towns and cities—litter, as well as any place to throw litter away.  Apparently they used to have a litter problem.  Their solution was literally to eliminate any place to throw trash out, and make it clear that littering was a serious infraction. I’m sure it says something about the Japanese culture that this was successful—or, more importantly, something about our own culture that we can’t imagine it working in the U.S.

One of our favorite discoveries in Takayama was the Kusakabe Heritage House, unmentioned in either of our guidebooks, and a significant oversight in our estimation.

The Kusakabe family members were merchants who thrived during the reign of the Tokugawa clan which began in 1692.  When the Tokugawa shogunate governed here, the samurai left.  So this is the home of wealthy “commoners.”  The original store and house burned down in 1875 and was rebuilt in 1879 by Jisuke Kawajiri, the most skilled architect and craftsman of his time.  Rockefeller reportedly wanted to purchase the home, but was turned down.  In 1966, the Kusakabe home was designated a “national important cultural asset.”

This “common house” of the edo period is constructed of Japanese cypress.  The beam and pillar construction is especially sturdy.  The dark brown paint is made from soot.

The open hearth in the center of the home was for both heating and cooking.

The home is built around an interior garden.

And as is common in traditional homes, rooms can be reconfigured with sliding shoji screens as larger public gathering spaces, or smaller intimate private areas—all with a view of the garden.

The Kusakabe family crest.

The Kusakabe Heritage House houses a folk art museum or Mingei Kan.  In 1966, the 11th head of the Kusakabe family supported the goals of the Mingei folk art movement of the time, which, much like the arts and crafts movement in the U.S., focused on beautiful objects created to be used by common people.

These hibachis were used to keep warm during the severe cold of Takayama’s winters.

Women would use this metal “pillow” to perfume their hair by burning incense while they slept.

The traditional methods of making pottery perfected long ago with these unique glazing techniques are still used by ten potteries still operating in Takayama today.

This is a prototype of the “butterfly stool” designed in 1954 by Sori Yanagi, a leading product designer in postwar Japan.  It has been exhibited at the Louvre and New York’s Museum of Modern Art.

This ancient palanquin seems impossibly small given it’s designed to carry a passenger from place to place.

When we arrived at Kusakabe, they had just opened, and ours were the first pairs of shoes left near the entrance.  By the time we’d left, the place was packed.

We also discovered this wonderful shop where the owner wove wall hangings using the silk from antique kimonos.

Each morning, merchants set up their kiosks at the outdoor market, which borders the river for two blocks.

This vendor offered calligraphy.

This woman was baking fresh fish-shaped gluten cakes.

This store offered various types of miso, fermenting in barrels at the front of the store.

There were lots of vegetables.

This is wild daichon--what we know as radish.

Giant stone slabs placed along the river offer a convenient place to rest and snack.

And large carp windsocks strung across the river create a festive air.

In the center of town, adjacent to our ryokan, is Takayama Jinya, a branch office of the shogunate government from the late 1600s to 1868, when the shogun returned power to the emperor.

The shogun sent his people here to collect taxes, sit as judges, act as police, and, most importantly, manage the surrounding forests, since timber in the mountains around Takayama was highly prized and formed the base of the economy.  These were the government’s administrative offices.

It was also the living quarters for the administrators, and for the shogun when he came to visit. Here, our wonderful guide Tomi shows us how to adjust the height of the cooking pot.

The buildings center around the garden.

Tax payments to the shogun were made in the form of rice—each bag of rice weighed about 130 lbs. The oldest building in the complex, seen here on the far side of the garden, is the rice storage building, which dates from 1600.  

In the late 1700s, the area peasants rioted over the increased tax burden—twice unsuccessfully. The local administrators used this room to elicit confessions.  Prisoners were forced to kneel on the wood planks in the center, while stacks of heavy flat stones were placed on their legs.

On a more civilized note, there was also a room for the traditional Japanese tea ceremony.  You can tell this is a tea ceremony room by the design of the tatami mats with the half tatami in the center.

Nearby, the main gate to Sakurayama Hachiman Shrine makes an imposing statement...

…and a somewhat less imposing, but no less impressive, inner gate welcomes visitors to the shrine.

This Shinto shrine is said to date from the 4th century, although there’s no way to know for sure since Japan’s written history only dates back to the 7th century.

This purification font is carved from a single rock.

Before praying at the shrine, worshippers drink the purifying water.

In the Japanese Shinto tradition, prayer requests are written and then neatly tied throughout the shrine complex.

Takayama was a delight and, for me, one of the highlights of our time in Japan.

[tshanman]

Spectacular Food

Our first taste of traditional Japan came in Gora, where breakfast and dinner were included with our room at Gora Tensui, a well-regarded ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) in the mountain village of Gora, Hakone.  

As we sat down to eat, the evening’s menu seemed overwhelming—far more food than we could possible finish.  We thought!

A traditional Japanese dinner is called kaiseke—a multi-course dinner where each course is a small beautifully prepared dish.

As this was our first full day in Japan, and we were also celebrating my birthday, we decided a nice bottle of saki was in order.  The saki menu was extensive, and we relied on our very helpful server for a recommendation.   I was relieved when I saw her best recommendation cost ¥7200—about $7.20.   I thought!

Some context. Having crossed 16 time zones, as well as the International Dateline to get to Japan, and this being our first full day in country, it was now tomorrow, but my math skills were left somewhere in yesterday.  The Yen to Dollar exchange rate is currently around ¥90 to the dollar, so for this trip we decided to round up to ¥100 and just ignore the last two digits of prices in Yen as a quick way to calculate the dollar rate. In my hazy math I’d left off three digits and our $7 bottle of Saki was actually $72.  Nevertheless, it was a delicious bottle of saki, and we enjoyed it over two nights.

The dishes served to accompany our saki were nothing short of stunning—both in taste and in presentation.

Here’s the udon noodle dish after I’d eaten most of the udon. The soup is an avocado and Genovese base.

The “entrée” was an assortment of delicious bites...

…a piece of deep fried crab meat wrapped in almond, three micro-tomatoes that put our best home-grown tomatoes to shame, and, in the bowl, sea urchin intestine and ascidian. (Sometimes, it’s better not to know what you’re eating.)

And on the other side of the plate, a sushi roll of thin-sliced wagyu beef and canola flower, smoked radish pickle wrapped around cheese, and simmered prawn with one perfectly steamed brussel sprout leaf.

A sashimi plate of tuna, snapper and scallop with wasabi.  The wasabi in Japan is nothing like the wasabi we’re used to.  At home, wasabi seems mainly about heat and less about flavor.  In Japan, it adds a gentler heat, but a much more robust flavor.  When I asked why, I learned that the best wasabi grows along fresh running mountain streams.  Who knew.

Next came grilled Japanese domestic beef with vegetables.  The grilled items are delivered raw.  The grill is behind the plate.

Self-grilling at the table is common in Japan, and the grill is often a simple plate over a small flame.

This grilled snapper was cooked in the kitchen.  The small green fruit next to the snapper is a young peach, and on top, that’s a piece of pickled ginger—you hold the reddish purple end and only eat the white ginger.)  Fruits and vegetables in Japan are frequently quite different from ours—often smaller and more delicate in flavor.

This wasn’t even on the menu.  We didn’t realize it until the end of the meal, but because they’d heard Nancy mention my birthday, they surprised us with whole crab.  We’ve been impressed by the extent to which the Japanese go out of their way to accommodate others.  When we first arrived and were trying to find our hotel, we asked a shop-keeper for directions.  He immediately grabbed Nancy’s suitcases and led us to within eye-sight of our destination.

We’ve been struck, not only with the beautiful presentation of the food, but also the great variety of dramatic dishes they serve on.  Here are some pictures from another meal.  Can you imagine what the serving cupboards must look like?

For our first night, dessert was fresh fruit.   We thought.

Then they surprised me with the pièce de résistance.

It’s hard for me to believe the chef whipped up this spun sugar rose on the spur of the moment, but that’s what the server said—perhaps a lost in translation moment.  But no matter, it was a great surprise…

…and a great way to cap off our first full day exploring Japan.

[tshanman]

Exploring Japan

I’ve wanted to go to Japan since James Clavell’s Shogun captivated my imagination in the mid ‘70s.  Beyond my fascination with samurai and the shogun, I’ve long been intrigued with this rich culture dating back 8,000 years—a culture with a highly refined esthetic, love of beauty, and sense of honor.

But in actuality, my knowledge of Japan is fairly shallow, which is why I convinced Nancy we should spend two weeks in Japan on our way to a long-planned snorkeling adventure in Indonesia.

First stop, Gora in the Hakone Region—a small village in the mountains near Mt. Fuji.

The last leg of the journey to Gora was by small train up a mountain with switchbacks so sharp that the engineer had to stop the train, walk to the other end, and start up in the reverse direction.  

We arrived at our “hotel”, Gora Tensui, a traditional Japanese inn, called a ryokan.  The floors were tatami mats, and the inside “walls” were sliding shoji screens.  On our balcony was a private outdoor soaking tub…

...with lovely views of the rooftops of Gora and the surrounding mountains.

We were charmed by this group of schoolgirls on an outing.

Despite Gora’s rural village feel, it boasts an extraordinary sculpture museum—the Hakone Open Air Museum—founded in 1969 by the Fuji-Sankei Group, the largest media conglomerate in Japan.  Their goal was to create an “…opportunity to encounter great sculpture in a natural setting,” and their money was well spent.

You get your first view of the grounds as you emerge from a long tunnel onto a spectacular meadow with several striking pieces.

Over 17 acres, the museum has a world-class collection of modern contemporary sculptures displayed throughout the beautifully manicured park-like grounds.

This giant sculpture by Bukichei Inoue, a Japanese architect and sculpture, is called “My Sky Hole”.   It was striking from a distance...

...and up close.

Here’s a selfie of Nancy and me.

This giant fried egg was a great place for kids of all ages to sit and play.

This piece by Swedish sculptor Carl Milles is called “The Hand of God.”

The museum is home to an extraordinary number of Henry Moore sculptures.

“Reclining Figure: Arch Leg”

“Reclining Figure”

“Large Spindle Piece”

“Atom Piece (Working Model for Nuclear Energy)”

I didn’t get this one’s name, but I’m guessing another “reclining figure.”

This piece, called “Sixteen Turning Sticks” by Takamichi Ito, rotated constantly.

The way it caught the sunlight was captivating.

This is “Both Arms” by Kenneth Armitage.

This clever path’s endpoint climbed up a wall.

And this was one of my favorites, called “Close” by Antony Gormley.

The Open Air Museum even had a hidden indoor Picasso building, although it was too nice a day to spend much time inside.

Gora and the surrounding area are in a national park, which also includes Mt. Fuji, and on our second day we took the Hakone Ropeway, a Gondola that rises up into the mountains over an active volcano and sulfur mine venting stinky sulfur gas.  

From the top we got a stunning view of Japan’s iconic Mt. Fuji.

It was so clear we could see hiking trails carving their way through the snow to the summit.

The ropeway ended at Lake Ashi, where the way back to Gora is via boat and then bus.  

Much like Lake Tahoe in California, Lake Ashi formed in the caldera of Mt. Hakone, an active volcano that last erupted some 3,000 years ago.   On board our boat, the feel was more of a Disneylandish mashup mixing Mark Twain’s Riverboat and Pirates of the Caribbean.

But the views were worth the trip.  The steep walls cradling the lake are covered with a cedar forest mixed with swathes of Japanese Maple.  The darker color of cedars against the lighter bright green of the maple was gorgeous.

We landed in Hakonemachi-Ko, a small village at the southeast edge of Lake Ashi.

Hakonemachi-Ko is site of the Hakone Sekisho, sometimes called the Hakone barrier.   The sekisho, an inspection station, was originally built in 1619, one of 53 sekishos built by Tokugawa shogun.  The shogun was the military commander-in-chief in feudal Japan and he built the sekishos as a means of maintaining power and control.

The Hakone Sekisho was rebuilt in 1999 on the original site using the original plans.  The construction techniques were replicated, down to the square nails holding interlocking pieces together.

The building boards were hand-cut to match the rock foundation to ensure the buildings did not fall during earthquakes.

The true significance of Hakone Sekisho was its location on the main road from Edo (which is now Tokyo) and Kyoto. The sekisho sits astride a narrow point between the lake and the mountains. Strategically, this allowed guards to monitor travelers who might try to avoid the inspection station.  

The guards used a tower built on the hill above the sekisho. Men caught avoiding the station were killed, women became sex slaves.

There was a jail.

Cooking facilities.

And a stable.

The shogun was based in Edo (modern day Tokyo) and he established all of the sekishos with two missions—keeping weapons out of Edo and keeping women from leaving.  Of the two missions, the more important was the women.  To protect the capital of Edo, the Shogun ordered all feudal lords to send their wives and children to live in Edo.  This, in effect, created hostages of the women, ensuring that competing lords would not foment rebellion.

This corridor (where tourists are looking in) was where any women leaving Edo were required to walk.

As they passed by, inspectors would look them over and question them.  

And next to the inspectors was the weapons room, where the mighty power of the Shogun’s officers was on display.

The entire operation was designed to impress and intimidate, which it no doubt did quite well.

We ended our last day in the Hakone region on a lighter note, with a visit to the Hakone Gora Park in Gora.   Not far from our home in Santa Cruz, the Hakone Estate & Gardens is a stunning Japanese garden hidden away in the hills above Saratoga, California.  So we couldn’t resist visiting this park with a similar name. While the park boasts a number of different areas and landscape styles, the Haku-undo Tea Garden was by far our favorite.  On a hot day, it was a cool retreat.

It was a peaceful tranquil setting and an enjoyable way to end the day.

[tshanman]

Destination Tucson

December 30, 2016

Our next destination was Tucson.  But on the way we took a quick detour through Quartzite, Arizona.  Ten months out of the year, Quartzite’s population is under 4,000, except in January and February.  During those two months, a plethora of major gem and mineral shows, and swap meets attract more than a million rockhounds and snow-birds (Midwest winter escapees).  

Thankfully, we were there in December, before the crowds descend, so we were able to browse some rock shops, and see the highlights, which for us consisted of some charming old buildings…

…and visiting the Hi Jolly Cemetery.  Hadji Ali was born in Syria, and in 1856 became one of the first camel drivers hired by the U.S. Army.  He was a camel breeder and trainer who signed on with the French army in Algiers before being hired by the U.S. Army.  

The Army hoped to use the camels to transport cargo across the southwest desert of the U.S.  Ali successfully used camels to travel to Texas and back.  

Unfortunately, the mules, horses, and burros already used by the Army were so terrified by the camels, the experiment was abandoned.  He lived much of his later life in Quartzite where he was a respected member of the community and came to be known as Hi Jolly.  He ran cargo service up and down the Colorado river, and in 1885 was re-hired by the Army to work on the campaign to capture Geronimo.  He died in 1902 at the age of 74.

Before leaving Quartzite, we lunched at a restaurant recommended by our friend Joanie as having the best pizza anywhere.  Silly Al’s can best be described as a cowboy bar, but the pizza lived up to its billing.

Then it was on to Canyon Ranch in Tucson.  The resort focuses on healthy living—the mind, the body, and the spirit.  It’s located on 150 acres in the shadow of Tucson’s Catalina Mountains.

Canyon Ranch has a well-deserved reputation as a world-class resort.  From top to bottom, the staff was uniformly warm, friendly, accommodating, and committed to making sure we got whatever we needed.   And the choices of what to do were unlimited--more about that later.  

The clubhouse is the hub of the Ranch.

Guests stay in small single-story southwestern style buildings.

If you look closely, above, you can see a pair of wild Javelina in the front yard. Javelina wander freely across the property, unafraid of humans (unless they’re protecting babies, at which time we’re told they can become aggressive)

While they look like wild pigs, they’re actually in the rodent family.  Really big rodents!

This is the view from our front porch.

The grounds at Canyon Ranch are desert-luscious, filled with fountains, flowing water, and lush Arizona landscaping.

The spa hidden in the distance is actually an 80,000 square foot facility—the length of two football fields—housing rooms set up for pilates, indoor cycling, exercise and weight training, squash and racquetball, and yoga/meditation studio. Then, of course, there’s the body treatment and massage area, along with sauna, steam and inhalation rooms, whirlpools, and private rooftop sunbathing areas.

The property is filled with interesting sculptures at every turn.

This metal sculpture of a woman made me laugh when I realized what it was. 

Sometimes when we walked past this bell, it would be ringing with nobody around—the echoing presence of someone having passed by before us.

This Grandmother Storyteller was Nancy’s favorite.

And Mesquite trees, which are ubiquitous in the desert, were everywhere.

This eucalyptus is reported to be the largest in Arizona.  I’m not sure how they know that, but it’s really big!

Going to Canyon Ranch is like going to a summer camp for adults.  The choice of activities is unlimited.  The two things I knew I wanted to do there was get some exercise, and get back to meditating.

On most days we got up early and went for a brisk 2-mile desert walk and then meditated before going to the dining room for breakfast.  All of the meals were gourmet-healthy, with an emphasis on the gourmet.  And healthy snacks were always available.

All through the day there were multiple choices of classes and activities—I took a sketching and drawing class and another class on the spiritual power of being present.  I also played wallyball—which is like playing volleyball on a racquetball court where you get to use the side walls for your shots. It’s a hoot, and I only wrenched one knee and dislocated one finger.  Call me crazy, but I can’t wait to get home and play some more.

On most days I meditated both in the morning and in the evening.  The Spiritual Wellness Center contained a peaceful meditation garden and sanctuary, which was a lovely place to contemplate, meditate, and appreciate life.

We also took a BBQ cooking class from chef Shawn Brisby—who had a terrific sense of humor and shared the recipe for his special marinade, that we can never share with anyone else upon penalty of death.

I wanted to get this picture of Nancy wearing an apron, but she cleverly disguised it by wearing black underneath a black apron.

When the class was over, we got to eat the fruits of our grilling.  And even take home some leftovers for later in our trip. Yum! 

[tshanman]

The Next Great Adventure

December 21, 2016

With our mutt, Archie, packed into the back of our station wagon, and our suitcases crammed into the rooftop storage box, Nancy and I are off on our next great adventure, a driving trip through southern Arizona and New Mexico.  And unlike past trips, much of this trip is unplanned, leaving time to explore side trips and backroad diversions.  

After a couple of rainy days in L.A. visiting friends and family, we set off for Arizona, driving a route I’d last traveled in my 20s, through Indio to Blythe.  A strong wind cleared the air ahead of us, blessing us with rare views of the snow-capped San Gabriel mountains - hopefully a good omen of things to come.

In Indio, we stopped for a healthy lunch at Dragon Sushi—a restaurant worth mentioning for two reasons.

First, the sushi, was great--inventive menu, really fresh fish, and great presentation; but more interestingly, this is the only sushi bar I’ve ever been to that offers nachos, quesadillas, tacos, hamburgers, and BLTs, all while playing Spanish language Christmas carols on the P.A. system--quite a place.  We can’t speak for the other entrées, but the sushi was great.  Who knew Indio was so eclectic.  We loved it!

Leaving Indio, we plugged Blythe into the Waze app–only to discover it wanted us to ignore Interstate 10, the direct route, and instead head off down a back road—perfect for our plan to explore, but a bit odd since Waze claimed we’d save 1 hour, 44 minutes on a drive that’s less than an hour-and-a-half.

Undaunted we headed ten miles southeast before turning onto Box Canyon Road, a 2-lane highway winding through vineyards and orchards before heading into the Mecca Hills Wilderness Area.

North and south of the wilderness area, sand dunes and flat desert define the land, but the wilderness area is filled with stunning rock formations jutting high against the blue sky. They are geological formations that have been thrust skyward by the San Andreas Fault—exposing layers and layers of rock formed from eons under the sea.

We stopped and hiked with Archie across a dry riverbed to the cliff edge as the setting sun highlighted the layers of rock.  

A few miles down the road, we came upon a lonely roadside marker commemorating Shaver’s Well.  While the well itself is hidden by a stand of Tamarisk trees.

The well was the first county-financed well dug by Riverside County. John Shaver was a member of the Riverside Board of Supervisors who hired John McGrath to dig the well in October 1897. So McGrath did the work, and Shaver got the credit.

Shortly past Shaver’s Well and more than an hour after we left Indio, we rejoined the main highway to Blythe 26 miles east of Indio only to discover construction had narrowed the highway to one lane and traffic was crawling at about five miles per hour.  Thankfully, following Waze we rejoined the highway less than a mile from the end of the construction zone and we were quickly on our way to Blythe and the Arizona border.   Another good omen, perhaps, that the road less traveled was also the faster route between two points.

[tshanman]

The Sacred Valley and Ollantaytambo

March 7, 2016

After a day exploring Chinchero, we headed for the Sacred Valley, the jumping off point for Machu Picchu and other Inca ruins.  On the way we drove even higher, through a 12,650 foot pass, where all of my fingertips started tingling—apparently a side-effect of altitude sickness medication we were taking.

On the drive throughout Peru, political slogans and signs covered many buildings and walls along the roadway—the Peruvian version of political yard signs.  

The Presidential and Congressional elections are coming up in April, so the slogans and signs were everywhere.  From what we’ve been able to follow from the Southern Hemisphere, the elections in Peru are far more civilized than the current round of U.S. primaries.   

Our guide Celio told us sometimes they ask for permission, other times, they come out in the middle of night and just put the signs up.  By law, they’re supposed to remove them after the election is over, sometimes they do.  Other times, not so much.

From the top of the pass just outside Chinchero, we descended for close to an hour where we got our first glimpse of the Sacred Valley, and Urubamba, the gateway town to the valley.

We stopped for lunch at this traditional hacienda, called Tunupa.  The grounds were lovely, and the lunch buffet had many tasty offerings.

The next day we headed toward Ollantaytambo, site of one of the last major battles between the Incas and the Spanish.  The town, and the ruins at Ollantaytambo have both been preserved.  Strict rules regulate building heights to preserve the integrity of the town and the surrounding ruins.

At one time, Ollantaytambo was a significant Inca city, and as we approached the town, we could see the original entry gates, still standing near the edge of town.

The original Inca terracing at the base of the city is still being used today to grow crops.

Ollantaytambo rests in a narrow part of the Sacred Valley—an ideal place for the Inca to establish a City with a ready supply of water from the Urubamba River flowing down one side of the valley.

For the Incas, Ollantaytambo was built on the well-protected high ground.  This stairway gives you some idea of what the Spanish would have seen as they looked up at the Incas they were pursuing.

And this is the view the Incas would have enjoyed looking down on their pursuers.

When the Incas built terracing around their cities, they were creating large retaining walls that allowed them not only to grow crops, but also to create strong level foundations on which to construct their buildings.

While the stonework is impressive from a distance, it’s when you get up close that the quality of the stonework becomes clear.  On either side of this stairway, you can see large stones that were carved to fit tightly together without any mortar material to hold it together.

The two pictures below show how skilled the Inca were in cutting these stones concisely to fit together.

While they didn’t use any mortar material, they did have a hidden way of ensuring the stones would lock into place.  They would carve small T-shaped channels into the top of two adjacent stones and then fill them with molten bronze.  When the bronze cooled and hardened, the two stones would be locked together, ready for more stones to be stacked on top, which would then hide the bronze locking system.

The Inca understood the mountains where they were building and the need to protect against erosion and earthquakes.  You can see here how they inclined their high walls back from vertical so they would be more stable.

Below is one of the most impressive structures in Ollantaytambo, the Temple of the Sun. The Temple was never finished, and since the Inca left no written records, there are only theories about why it was never finished:  a Smallpox epidemic, the Spaniards, or perhaps a rebellion among the people who were forced into labor to create these massive structures.   The rocks easily stand 20 feet high.

The tall narrow stones running vertically between the larger massive stones of the Temple show the Incas’ engineering expertise.  They relieve seismic stress from the larger stones when earthquakes occur so they stay in place.

On the face of this unfinished wall, the sacred stepped Inca Chacana symbol is still visible. The bottom step represents Uku Pacha, the Inca underworld of serpents, death and the wisdom of ancestors.  The middle step is Kay Pacha, the everyday life of Earth energy and the Puma, and the top step represents Hanan Pacha, the skies and heavens, with links to the Condor, stars, virtuous beings, and Gods.

Nobody knows why the Inca left these small protuberances on this wall. Some conjecture they were designed to help lift the huge stones into place.  Others suggest they were designed to cast shadows when the sun shone on the wall.

Just as their steep walls inclined slightly to provide stability against landslides, their doorways were trapezoidal, narrowing at the top to increase the stability of the structures.

The stones used to build Ollantaytambo were quarried at the base of a mountain on the far side of the valley.  The gray rock at the far bottom of the mountain in this picture is where the rock was quarried.  Then it was transferred some seven kilometers across the valley to the base of the mountain.

Once the stones were moved to the base of Ollantaytambo, they were then somehow pushed up this inclined road to the top where they were used for buildings.

This is our great guide Celio, at the top of the Ollantaytambo ruins.

On the hills across the valley from Ollantaytambo, you can see several large granaries for food storage.

And next to the largest granary is a large face representing an Inca God, that archaeologists say was created by carving into a massive stone on the mountainside opposite the City.

More of the site can be seen when looking down from above.

This long stairway incorporates a typical Inca building technique.  Along the right side of the steps is a drainage channel. Channels like this crisscross all of the ancient Inca cities so that water would not erode away the mountaintop dwellings.

This panorama shows how the entire area was perched between mountains, which the Inca are believed to have revered as sacred. 

Crops are still grown in the bottom terrace of the Ollantaytambo ruins.  This crop is Quinoa. 

After descending from the height of the ruins, we walked through an area where water continues to flow over fountains, created centuries ago.  This one has the sacred Chacana symbol carved into the face of the stone.

On the top of this rock they created a whirlpool in the water that removes the sediment so that clean water flows over the fountains at the edge.

After touring the ruins, we walked back into the picturesque town below.

Many of the town’s buildings are built atop old Inca foundations.

We visited one home where the family still lives in the traditional ways.

Celio told us that the three skulls in the wall belong to the great grandparents of the family who lives there, placed so they can honor their ancestors.

Guinea Pigs are a delicacy in Peru, called Cuy.  The family raises them in their home, where before becoming dinner, they are family pets that also serve as vacuum cleaners, quickly cleaning anything that falls onto the floor.  

Though it rained while we toured Ollantaytambo, it didn’t dampen our spirits.

[tshanman]

Getting High on the Way to Machu Picchu

February 25, 2016

Another adventure begins.

With an invite from friends Linda and Ellen to join them in the Galapagos, Nancy and I decided to add a trip to Machu Picchu on the front end of our journey to South America.

First up, a brief stop in Lima, Peru.  

Our flight from Miami was delayed and so we landed around 1:15 in the morning, gathered our luggage, cleared customs, walked to our hotel, and were in bed by 3am.  Two hours later, our alarms reminded us it was time to head back to the airport for our flight to Cusco.  

Did I mention our first stop was a brief stop in Lima...

In Cuzco, we were collected by our trusty guide, Celio, and driver, Cesar. Cuzco’s elevation is 11,152 feet, so for those of you thinking the title of this post portended a tale of sex, drugs and rock & roll, sorry to disappoint.  These highs are quite literal.  In Cuzco, the hotels provide oxygen to help visitors adjust to the elevation.  

But we didn’t have time to enjoy the thin air or the oxygen as we headed higher… to Chinchero, which sits at an elevation of 12,343 feet.  Before leaving California, Nancy and I started a round of Diamox pills, to help us adjust to these thin-air elevations.  But there’s another local solution that is widely available.   More about that later.

In Chinchero, the locals gather once a week on Sundays for market day in the main square.

Most of the people in Chinchero and the surrounding District, are Quechua, direct descendants of the Incas who thrived in the 1400 and 1500s, until in 1572 they were wiped out by Pizarro a Spanish Conquistador leading a small army.  The Quechua still wear traditional clothing, with some interesting modifications.  The bowler-style hats were adopted in the 1920s when British railway workers brought them to Peru.

While a few of the vendors sell quality traditional alpaca wool products, the bulk of the vendors sell local fresh produce, grains, legumes, and meat. 

The woman below is selling tarragon, mint, and a host of other herbs.  She’s also selling a flower that the Quechua used to purify their homes and rid them of evil spirits, a tradition similar to native American rituals in the Southwest.

The two women below are bartering over the price of the bag of coca leaves held on a scale by the woman who is standing.  I mentioned a local solution for the altitude.  It’s mate de coca—coca tea.  While its effectiveness as an antidote to the effects of thin air has not been studied, the locals swear by it and it’s on menus everywhere.  Our hotel even has a large thermos of piping hot mata de coca waiting for guests throughout the day.  While the coca plant is the same plant used to make cocaine and locals chew it like chewing tobacco to give themselves energy, we felt no strong effects.

The Chinchero market was great—colorful and energized with families, friends and acquaintances reconnecting in this weekly ritual.  We were struck with how easily the Quechua carry their purchases wrapped in blankets on their backs.

This woman was selling many varieties of corn, a staple of the local diet.

The Quechua call this a tree tomato.

And here two more women discuss the going cost of a bag of coca leaves.

One enterprising cheese maker pressed her marketing stamps right into the top of her cheese to ensure customers would know whose product they were consuming.

In addition to buying and selling, the market offers a place for the community to visit and drink. There were several “restaurants” in one area where a single bench next to the cook’s burner served as the “table.”

And in one corner of the market, several tarps sheltered the bar area where chichi—corn beer—was the drink of choice.  This tradition dates back to the Inca who made a ritual practice of drinking chicha. Here they served it with, or without, mashed strawberries.

Nearby, another restaurateur grilled a rack of whole trout.

And we bought a lovely blanket from Patricia as we were leaving the marketplace.

In addition to the market, we visited a weavers’ demonstration site in Chinchero.  This display shows the original tools the Inca used to plow their fields and turn the soil by hand.  Other than the metal flanges at the bottom, they’re made of wood lashed together with leather.

These two weavers were working together on a table runner using memorized designs that have been handed down over the years from generation to generation through the oral tradition.

In the traditional method, which these Quechua are keeping alive, the alpaca wool is cleaned by hand. The “detergent” is created by grating the root of the Sacha Paraquy plant.  

The results are impressive. In this demonstration, the wool on the left cleaned up after about 20 seconds.

While some Quechua communities have “modernized” and use synthetics, dyes created in the traditional way are boiled from many different plants and even some bugs.  The bright red color below is created by mashing a parasite that is found on local Yucca plants.

The oven heats three vats for three different dye colors.

Each dye is unique and the dyes are boiled for various lengths of time to create the colors you see in the Quechua fabrics.

Once the spun alpaca wool is dipped, the colors are dramatic and beautiful.

In the picture below, the alpaca wool on the right still contains pieces of plant material that was used to create this orange dye.

A table runner like this generally takes two months of weaving to complete.  It sells for about 100 Soles, less than $30!

Nancy purchased a beautiful scarf, and I bought a sweater, both made of baby alpaca wool, a fabric that is softer than merino wool.  This is Judith, the young woman who sold them to us.  She was lovely as was the entire visit to Chinchero.

[tshanman]

Grand Canyon - Our Last Stop

May 26, 2015

John Wesley Powell named the Grand Canyon during his 1868 expedition.  Before that it was referred to as “Big Canyon” and sometimes “Great Canyon;” neither did it justice.  No matter how many times you’ve been there before, on each new visit your first sight of the canyon takes your breath away.  This was ours.

On our first full day in the canyon, the weather started out wet and overcast, so we decided to explore the recently renovated Kolb Studio.  After the Federal In 1904 after the Government denied permission for the Kolb Brothers to build on public land, they negotiated the rights to build on a privately held mining claim.  From their location near the head of the Bright Angel Trail, the brothers operated a profitable photographic studio and also made the first moving picture film of the canyon, taking a boat down the Colorado River.  One of the brothers, Emery Kolb, lived in the building until his death in 1976.  The Grand Canyon Association now operates the studio as a museum and store.  You can see how it’s literally perched on the canyon edge.

After exploring the Kolb Studio, we spent the day exploring Desert View Drive—a 25-mile stretch from the East Entrance of the park to Grand Canyon Village.   As we started out, the wet weather draped the canyon in a mystical atmosphere.

At the far Eastern edge of the park, we could see across a side canyon, back onto the plateau we crossed while driving to the canyon the previous day.

The Desert View Watch Tower, a great viewing site at the east end of the park, was built by Mary Coulter in the ‘30s.  Coulter worked for the Fred Harvey Company, which operated the park concessions at the time.  The building rises four stories (70 feet) into the air.

Inside you can climb to the top for stunning canyon views.  Coulter’s architectural style for the tower was an homage to the cliff dwellings she visited throughout the Southwest.  The base is built to look as though it was formed from stones gathered in the area, just as the cliff dwellers did eight centuries ago.

But don’t be deceived by the look of the tower. It’s actually built of steel and concrete, with the stones creating an “ancient” veneer. Coulter even included a mosaic that replicates the entrance design of many cliff dwellings.

From Lipan Point, a few miles west of the Watch Tower, we could see a broad sweep of the canyon.  At the bottom, the Unkar Delta sits just inside a sharp bend in the river. It’s a large terraced plain where Ancestral Puebloans lived and raised crops in the 1100s.  It’s the site of one of the largest archaeological finds in the canyon. From the top of the canyon you can’t see the ruins, but the Delta is the lighter colored sandy area across the river near the bottom of this picture.

Just above the first bend, we could see river rafters in a small blue boat pulling off the river for a break.

Perhaps they were getting ready for the rapids, just around the big bend ahead of them.

From the same viewpoint, we could see five miles downstream to the west where Hance Rapids has carved the steep canyon walls.

To give you an idea of just how large the canyon is, from Lipan Point we can only see about five miles up and down the canyon.  The full length of the river as it runs through the canyon is 277 miles.  Hance Rapids is one of the more difficult passages for those who run the river in the canyon.   It drops thirty feet through a narrow channel in just over a half mile.

The view from Lipan Point is also a place where tourists displaying questionable judgment pose for pictures on the cliff’s edge.

During our time at the canyon I celebrated my birthday.  Sixteen years ago on my 50th, we river rafted from Phantom Ranch after hiking to the bottom of the Canyon on the Bright Angel Trail.  The hike took about seven hours; the river trip lasted eleven day and covered 192 miles.  This time we just viewed the Bright Angel Trail from the rim.  Near the top, hikers go through a tunnel.

You can see the hikers are bundled up in jackets. That won’t last long.  As the 9.5-mile trail drops into the canyon, the temperature rises quickly.  The Colorado River at the bottom of the trail is nearly a mile below the rim, and the temperature is probably over 100 degrees in May.  

After the upper switch backs, the trail wanders through an oasis called Indian Springs, where welcome shade and water provide shelter from the hot sun.  

When the trail reaches the aptly named Plateau Point, you’re in for a surprise.  You think you’re almost to the bottom, but instead the trail turns back for more than a mile through the “Devil’s Corkscrew.”  Then, finally you reach the river.  A very long hike.

Not everyone drives to the canyon.  Since 1901, the Grand Canyon Railway has been carrying passengers daily from Williams, AZ to the Village where lines of buses wait to transport the passengers.

The train, itself, has a retro 1950s look.

Nearly 5 million people visit the canyon annually.  But because it was still mid-May for our visit, we were lucky enough to enjoy the canyon without the massive crowds that summer brings.  Nevertheless, there’s always someone. 

The dynamic weather and the passing storm clouds create constantly changing patterns of light and shadow in the canyon.

Surpassing the beauty of the previous day, our second day in the canyon was even more spectacular with clean bright air highlighting the brilliant colors of the canyon.

Thanks to my iPhone, I was able to capture this panorama shot of the canyon.

I mentioned it was my birthday.  To commemorate my 66th year, Nancy took this final photo on our drive home.

[tshanman]

Sand Dunes & Monument Valley

After Canyon de Chelly, we visited with our good friends Steve and Jody in Santa Fe.  They were wonderful hosts, and it was a welcome break from the road.  Then it was on to the Great Sand Dunes National Park outside Alamosa, Colorado.

The highest point of the dunes is quite remarkable.  At 750 feet, it is the tallest sand dune in all of North America.

Scientists believe the dunes formed through a series of geological events.  When the San Juan and Sangre de Cristo mountains originally formed, the basin between them was filled with a giant lake.  As climates changed, the lake dried up, leaving a large sheet of sand covering what became the San Luis Valley between the two mountains. Then the prevailing winds blew the sand into a natural pocket formed where the Sangre de Cristo Mountains curve.

David and Joanie, also good friends who rendezvoused with us from their home in Evergreen, CO, had visited the dunes several times before but never this early in the year when the river is flowing.

Despite the cold weather and the snow-melt runoff, many people were still fording the river to get to the dunes, creating what looked like a modern day version of the exodus.

Some people come to the dunes for the thrill of sledding down the steep slopes.  Others just want to conquer the highest dune.  You can barely see some people in this picture as they reach the summit.

You can tell by the way we bundled up that it was a cold day.

So rather than crossing the river we decided to explore the lower dunes along the near side of the river.

It was a fun walk, and with the sun shining through puffy clouds onto the dunes and the nearby Sangre de Cristo Mountains, it was a stunning afternoon.

Then it was time to hit the road for the Grand Canyon, a two-day drive.  The drive took us through Wolf Creek Pass.  At nearly 11,000 feet, it was snowing.  Nancy took most of these pictures while I drove.  (Someone would have had to pry my death grip from the steering wheel for me to stop and get out.)  

On the other side of the pass, we descended into a lovely green valley.

After a night camping, back again near Mesa Verde Park, we headed southwest through Monument Valley. Along the way we were stopped at a red light, an odd traffic signal looming over the road in the middle of the isolated desert.

Further on we found this interesting striped geological formation.  I don’t know what caused it, but it looked like a giant had been doing graphic design by scraping some of the gray cover soil from this hillside.

And then Monument Valley rose from the horizon.  You can see that we really did pick the road less traveled.

As we drove through the striking formations, I couldn’t resist stopping for several pictures. I’m not sure which was more striking, the monuments, or the sky above.

Nancy has been incredibly patient with my frequent photo stops. She occasionally captures pictures of me taking photos.  After one photo, I returned the favor.

One of the formations seemed to be giving the world the finger.

Before we got to the Grand Canyon, we made one last stop at the Little Colorado River overlook.  The little Colorado has carved a dramatic deep canyon in the otherwise flat high desert plateau.

The Little Colorado was a small preview of our next and last stop on the trip, the Grand Canyon, which I’ll show you in my next, and final, post from the road.

[tshanman]

Canyon de Chelly

On our drive from Moab to Canyon de Chelly (pronounced canyon-deh-SHAY), our drive took us along two lane highways through the Navajo Nation.  We passed Four Corners, and decided to stop for this unique spot in the U.S.A. – the only place in the country where you can simultaneously be in four states at once.

I’m standing in Arizona taking this picture.  New Mexico is to my right, with Utah and Colorado in their respective corners.

It’s fun watching kids (and adults) straddle the four states while they pose for pictures.

Canyon de Chelly is on Navajo land, and we chose to stay at the Spider Rock Campground, which is inside the park and operated by a Navajo resident, Howard Smith.  It was a wonderful site surrounded by scrub piñon.

On our first night we enjoyed a spectacular Arizona sunset.

Since Canyon de Chelly is within the Navajo Nation, the only way to tour the canyon is with a Navajo guide. I arranged a tour with Speaking Rock Tours.  My guide was Benjamin Yazzie, Howard’s nephew.  One of the draws to Canyon de Chelly is the large number of petroglyphs and petrographs found throughout the canyon. This was our first stop, with the jeep we toured in.

As I learned from Benjamin, these are petrographs.  As opposed to petroGLYPHS, which are carved into the rock, petroGRAPHS are painted onto the rock.

At our next stop, we saw many carved petroglyphs running along this large cliff wall.

It’s a good thing we were traveling in a 4-wheel vehicle.  The road into the canyon runs through the rivers much of the time.

Benjamin, who grew up in the canyon, served in the military before working as an electrician.  He’d recently returned to the canyon after a lifetime of working on construction projects in cities around the southwest. When he was a kid in the canyon, these two gnarled dead trees were the only trees in this part of the canyon.

Now it’s lined with cottonwood and olive trees.  The cottonwood were planted by the Park Service early in the 30’s for erosion control. The olive trees have apparently been imported by birds and the wind.

Here’s one of the many ruins in the canyon.

One of the things that drove early inhabitants of the canyon to build here was the ready supply of water nearby.  For cliff dwellers, water supplies were often found seeping out of the cliff face. These ‘seeps’ form when water from the plateau above seeps down through the ground until it hits a layer of rock, which directs the water out to the face of the cliff.  You can find the seeps by looking for the plants that grow where the water emerges from the face of the cliff.

The finest cliff dwelling in the canyon is called White House Ruins, built into an alcove near the bottom of this massive cliff.

On the ground floor of the ruins, you can see the remains of a round kiva.

The lower level of the ruins was originally thought to be several stories high reaching near the bottom of the upper level.  A ladder from the roof of the lower level would have been placed into the slot at the center of the upper level, to allow access from below.

I was last at Canyon de Chelly when I was 14.  I vividly remember hiking miles to these ruins where we were met by a Navajo resident who led us through the ruins.  The ruins are now off-limits.  In the 70’s, the Park Service fenced them off to protect them.  The Park Service and the Navajo Nation manage the canyon jointly. The Park Service protects the ruins for future generations, while the Navajo manage access.  

After leaving White House Ruins, Benjamin took me up into a much narrower side canyon named Canyon del Muerto.

Canyon del Muerto, which means Canyon of the Dead in Spanish, got its name in 1882 when a Smithsonian Expedition discovered the remains of prehistoric Indian burials there. We didn’t see the burial ground, but we did see Antelope Ruins.

It got its name from these antelope petrographs.

One of the highlights of the day for me was learning from Benjamin about life in the canyon.  There are about 80 families who live around the canyon edge.  Actually, they live both on the edge of the canyon and in the canyon.  Adjacent to their cliff top homes, the families each have their own plots of land down on the canyon floor.  At the far left of this picture, you can see someone’s home on the canyon floor.

Except in summer, the families live on the top of the canyon where they have electricity during the colder winter months.  Then as the weather improves, they go down to their canyon-bottom homes where they farm. You can see fields on the bottom of the canyon in this picture.

So how do they get from the canyon-bottom home to the canyon-top home?

Many of them have their own trails.  On this cliff you can see where one family has carved steps into the stone, which they use to go up and down.

After the canyon-bottom tour, Nancy and I took in some of the views from the canyon rim.  This is Spider Rock, named for a spirit that brought weaving to the Navajo people, who refer to themselves as Diné .

We also saw beautiful cactus displaying bright desert flowers.

It strikes me that the Diné are much like this cactus—creating a beautiful life for themselves in a sometimes hostile place.

[tshanman]

Mesa Verde’s Ancient Civilizations

Mesa Verde National Park sits at elevations ranging from 7,000 to 8,500 feet above sea level.  And even in May, late spring storms can bring freezing weather.   As we pulled into our campground, we were greeted by falling snow—a perfect excuse to huddle inside the RV, toasty and comfortable, for an afternoon of reading. Here’s the view from our window.

The next morning, a freshly fallen snow had coated the trees surrounding the campground.

And a small herd of deer was grazing near our campsite.

As the sun warmed the day, we headed off to see what Mesa Verde had to offer.  Our campground was four miles into the park, but our destination was a good 16 miles further in.  On the way in, we passed through an area decimated by fire some 10 years ago.   They say it takes these trees 100 years to recover.

This is what the terrain looks like.

But it’s what you find when you look closer that makes Mesa Verde remarkable.

Tucked into the alcove on the distant cliff wall is Cliff House, once home to hundreds of Pueblo cliff dwellers.  It’s fascinating to think how these early inhabitants, who lived here for seven centuries, starting around 550A.D., drew together into this collective community. They grew crops on the cliff top plateaus, and were artisan basket weavers and pottery makers.

They were also great builders, creating many storied buildings.  You can see how they built rooms right on top of a massive rock that had earlier fallen from the roof of this alcove.

And they used ladders to go from one level to the next.

Cliff House is normally open for tours.  But during our visit it was closed for rehab.  So instead, we toured Balcony House, a nearby dwelling that is nowhere near the size of Cliff House, but is listed as one of the most strenuous ones to reach.  Before we started our tour, Paula gave us stern warnings about the climbing and crawling, since once you start down, there are no easy ways back up.

After hiking down 100 feet, and then horizontally along the cliff face, we found this ladder, the only way into the site.

Here’s what it looked like from above.  Not a good place if you suffer from vertigo.

When you reach the top, you duck through a dark passageway and emerge into the first rooms.

Here’s the view looking back.

These rooms show how they constructed these multi-story rooms out of mud and wood, and how they built as high as they could, molding the tops to fit the underside of the cliff.

I stuck my camera through a window opening into one of the lower rooms, and you can see the original pinkish plaster that they used to coat the walls, as well as the beam ceiling, holding up the second floor.

At the far end of this area was a window through which you could see the other half of Balcony House.

On this side we found two kivas, circular rooms found at nearly ever ruin in Mesa Verde.  Kivas were ceremonial rooms that archaeologists believe were used for “…religious, social and utilitarian purposes.”  Entry was only through a ladder in the center of the roof of each structure.  The other interesting thing of note here is the room with two small windows on either side of a doorway shaped like a key-hold.  Our guide Paula, who has a degree in anthropology, says this may indicate the Puebloan culture was starting to adopt the Kachina as a ceremonial God.

Here’s a better view of one of the kivas.

And here’s the reverse view of this second set of rooms.

The long beam stretching out some 15 feet beyond the other beams is what’s left of a room that originally filled the space where the people are standing.

We exited on hands and knees through this crawl space.  They believe this was originally the only way into the dwellings--designed this way for defensive purposes.

From the outside looking back, you can see a small window above the crawlspace where guards would have watched the entry.

The climb back to the cliff top was only a little less harrowing than the ladder climb into the dwellings.

While we were only able to tour Balcony House, we saw many other dwellings.  This is called Square Tower House.

This is New Fire House, a “split-level” community built into two separate cliff face alcoves.

Just to the right of the center room on the upper level, you can see hand and foot holds that were carved into the sandstone rock.

What views these early inhabitants had of their surroundings!