Kirby Park, PA

...Coming soon...tho prolly naught

Sedona, AZ trip

Planning spontaneity is always easier and usually more rewarding than scheduling The Plan-- a regimented ordeal bound to fail.  Our plan was to enter Oak Creek Canyon from the top and enjoy a window-down roll to the bottom and into Sedona, maybe stopping, always noting spots for later.  We're here for a week.  At least that's the mental battle cry as we bounce around the switchbacks and feel the thrill rise from our stomachs to our throats and back for another turn in our first ride down State Route 89A, an amazing thrill ride awakening wasted senses and creating new ones. 

Sedona.  Suh-doh-nuh.  Barb picked this place, she didn't know why, and that was good enough for me.  The deeper I got into researching photo ops online, the deeper I fell in love with this place as A Place.  A place that accepts worship and worships you back, a place that stimulates all the ineffable expressions our "other" side (the non-money side) is capable of making.  A place that smiles upon your soul without discrimination or judgment.  A place where Earth and earthling appreciate their role in the cosmic soup.  Ok... a lot of that I didn't actually feel while spinning through maps on Google Earth, but it didn't take the whole ride down Oak Creek Canyon to be overcome with such sentiment.  Most of Sedona's residents and many of it's visitors subliminally recognize the sensation and manifest its significance with a simple yet understanding smile. 

We were fresh visitors from the east but immediately felt right at home.  One of the advantages in traveling three hours west is that it's much easier getting up for sunrises.  One thing I didn't get from Google Earth, and it took us a couple early rises to realize, was that Sedona is more about sunsets than sunrises, so it didn't take us long to get use to sleeping in.  This was our first night, however, and we had much to learn.  We decided to get some good food and prepare for an early day.  We were up at 5, which was our 8 then.

On the road by 6ish we had it to ourselves as we drove back up the canyon to get a good sunrise at Slide Rock State Park.  It was too cold for just a t-shirt, but I decided against wearing my fleece when we discovered it smelled like Ziggy saying goodbye.  Ziggy is a cat with a fine sense of humor.  I thought of him and his primitive means of comic communication as Barb drove us toward the sunlight.  We pull in fully expecting to stuff money in an envelope, feeling quite silly reducing the value of this beauty to currency, only to find an iron gate blocking our path until the appropriate hour of 8, which is still our 11.  To waste time, if that were actually possible in such a place, we continue up canyon through those crazy switchbacks to an overlook at the very top.  I meant to stop there on our way in yesterday, but, mouth-agape, missed the turn. 

The light at the top was not particularly conducive to good photos so we left the cameras in the car and walked a bit of the rim of Oak Creek Canyon.  Birds were circling below in the crisp air as merchants set up their tables for the 8-o'clock rush.  It had snowed five inches on the previous Saturday so I shot a melting snowman before getting back in the car.  We decided to head back past Slide Rock to an information/general-store stop where we hoped to get a sweatshirt and convert our National Parks Pass to an official mirror-hanging for the Coconino National Forest turnoffs.  They were closed until 8. 

So the gallery starts with a shot from our balcony of the hot-air balloons that would rise every morning (apparently the only thing open before 8) and the snowman shot.  The rest is of Slide Rock State Park.  Here is a 16-stitch pano from a hill on the east side of the creek.  It's large so will take a bit to load.  I flipped reflections in photos 26 and 30 and mirrored 31 for it's spade-shaped look.  After such a fine morning we went back to Sedona to smile at its residents --those that were up this early. 

Palatki, Loop Road & Airport Mesa

In the afternoon we decided to visit the Palatki Heritage Site, but after maneuvering our rental through the dusty roads we arrive at the site at 2:45 only to find they close at 3 and a reservation is required.  On the way in we met a tree (see photos 2, 3 & 4) that gave an impression of just how hot it was.  A piece of bark was peeled back and hanging as if a tongue hoping for moisture.  That and a spot on the way out that was beckoning me to climb was all we got of this Palatki place this day but we hoped to return before we left.

Photos 9 thru 15 were taken from the first turnout on the right coming in the Upper Loop Road from 89A.  Here we met another tree with so much to offer.  After a tip of my cap in gratitude we continued on Loop and circled back up to Airport Mesa where I hoped to capture some of Sedona's icons bathed in golden-hour sunshine.  There were already plenty of others gathering for the magical moments.  We captured a few trees and several rocks proudly displaying plumes of place then ended with the Mason's cross at the airport. 

Not completely learning our lesson we smiled through the night and woke early to take a sunrise stroll along Soldier's Pass up to the Seven Sacred Pools. 

Our hotel was between Airport Road and Soldiers Pass so we didn't have to get up too early for our early trip to the Seven Sacred Pools on the Soldiers Pass Trail.  All that we read about it said there was a small parking lot that filled quickly so we were there a little after seven.  You guessed it.  It opened at 8!  We drove around the affluent neighborhood, waving to the same gardener 3 or 4 times, until the automatic gate opened.  We were the only car there.

As we started down the path we saw a kid come running toward us.  "Just made it up there [he pointed toward The Sphinx but I wasn't sure where he meant] and back in 45 minutes!"  I ostensibly congratulated him for the feat, but it was more for getting up so much earlier than the other residents of this wonderful place. 

The first photo is of a tree right near the beginning of the trail that must have been touched by nearly every traveler on the trail.  You almost have to hold the tree as you swing past it, and as a consequence the bark is rubbed clear off.  At least that's the way it seemed to me.  The Reader should always keep in mind that I rarely know what I'm talking about when it comes to naming things and knowing their characteristics.  I'd rather attend the actual feelings I get, and imagine the history of the rocks and trees I meet.  Strange I know, but you should know the truth.  This tree seemed like a fine greeter. 

The above-mentioned Sphinx is in the second photo, which is certainly not a very good one.  We were on the dark side of the formation so I drastically increased the exposure on the rock to show some of the detail.  I was amazed at how early the light becomes midday harsh in Sedona.  Most of this gallery is posted merely to show our morning hike.  In fact, the only shot I like, except for a couple Barb is in, is number 5. 

The Seven Sacred Pools, so named by a jeep driver trying to drum business so I've heard, seemed a poor western example of the Seven Tubs Natural Area not far from home.  I've seen many fine photos from this spot but this morning was not the best time.  Perhaps earlier would have worked.  We planned on returning here for an evening shot, but spontaneity trumped the intent.  In photos 20 & 21 you can see Barb posting a photo of me on Facebook --one she just took with her phone. 

The walk was wonderful and we met many happy people enjoying the feel of place.  Although the photos were poor, I was not in the least deterred, knowing that the evening that followed was to be spent with Larry Lindahl. 

As soon as our destination was set for Sedona, Barb went to amazon.com to start her research.  She wants to make sure her Kindle is well stocked and she gets a few books about the area to imagine and plan our trip.  She always thinks of me when hunting for the best locations and the treasure that she bought for me this time was Secret Sedona, Sacred Moments in the Landscape.  It is an amazing find written by photographer Larry Lindahl, and includes a generous number of his incredible photos of this special place. 

Ah, modern technology...  I was able to "meet" Larry online and set up a hike with him for this evening.   He was also coming out with a new book the week before we arrived.  Arizona Kicks On Route 66 is a fun read written by Roger Naylor with Larry's beautiful photos showing the way.  It instantly sparks the need for another road trip and a hankerin' for some homemade pie.

After reading Secret Sedona I wasn’t sure where he might be taking me.  I wanted to be ready for anything so we rested up most of the afternoon.  Well, that meant, walk around town and talk with the shopkeepers.  Almost all would ask, “Where ya from?”  I’d say, “Pee-yea.  You?”  Many would say “Sedona” at first, but once the conversation started rolling most would have an interesting story of how they chose this place.  Smiles were abundant and involuntary.

Since I needed another memory card (long story), I ducked into Rollie's Camera store while Barb was buying some dirt bags and tee shirts.  "Need a 16-gigabyte memory card," I said to the efficient kid behind the counter who offered me the SD card before I finished speaking.  "No.  The compact flash," I gratefully explained.  He said, "Oh, you want to go in the back to find Tom."  Boy, was he right in more ways than we knew.  Tom Kelly is another wonderful personality and I noticed some of his beautiful photos and calendars on display.   After some delightful conversation he told me he was off on Sunday and we could go for a hike later in the day.  More smiles, and more on that later.

Although we bounced around most of the afternoon having fun, on another plane Time was dragging for me.  I couldn't wait to meet Larry and enjoy his personality as we walked through some of the special scenes that is Sedona.  We arranged to meet at the Well Red Coyote Bookstore on the corner of US89A and Dry Creek Road at 4, and I told him if I'm not 10 minutes early, I'm late.  We were there by 3 but were certainly ready by 1.  Since Larry picked this place to meet I planned on buying his new book there.  Having the extra time to shop I ended up with about 15 books.  Like every other counter I talked across this day the Well Red had an interesting personality that, unfortunately, I didn't get to know as well as I liked.  Joe Neri was wearing a Fender tee and that got the conversation going where I always like to be-- jamming the blues.   Joe was heading up a blues jam that night at the 10/12 Lounge in Clarkdale.  He said they play "AARP hours" --7 to 10, and he was sure his bass player had an extra bass I could use to sit in.  Crap!!  7 to 10?  No way I'd hike with Larry for 3+ hours, eat and make the jam.  Well, maybe.  I was hopeful.  Jammin' could have been the highlight of this incredible trip, but now it's one more reason to return. 

Larry arrived on time and in sandals.  "Ok", I thought.  "Maybe he has his rattle-snake resistant boots in the car."  After a few goodbyes to Barb, and Larry promising to at least being able to tell the authorities which canyon floor I fell to, we were off.  I noticed when loading my bag and tripod in the back that he didn't have a camera --at least none visible.  That somewhat disappointed me.  Larry, of course, was being the professional.  It occurred to me then how some photogs would react to their guide/instructor taking their time to photograph.  For me it was about the thrill of being there, yielding oneself to the whims of Creativity, and maybe making some memorable moments and capturing digital reminders.  To share that with someone like Larry Lindahl would be thrilling to anyone even subliminally cognizant of what the trees and rocks are saying.  [Reader, read the book and you'll appreciate my praise and realize the ineffable nature of its giving.] 

Larry drove us north through town, eventually passing Slide Rock, and pulled into the lot for West Fork.  After walking through some interesting scenes we'll get back to, we arrive at our first destination, Oak Creek.  I certainly didn't get the best shots ever taken there, but it wouldn't have mattered if they were the worst.  The thrill was in the taking, the connection between self and subject; you always hope the creative connection returns when later making the photo, but the fusion has already occurred and cannot be undone.  Thank God.  We came face-to-face with a hill of red rock as it slid to the water.  Noticing the smiling rock with a burnt-log toupee, I setup to take them.  Although the water was low and barely moving, photos 4, 5 & 6 were attempts to use the reflection of the sweeping rock bank to imply motion.  We moved on.  When Larry saw me trying to make something out of photo 7, he politely pointed up and suggested a vertical.  Number 8 might best be displayed with a rotational tilt.

Just a bit further up canyon we came to a spot that I couldn't leave.  Photos 9 thru 24 where from that area.  All exposures were between 5:15pm and 5:32pm, but the light was changing so fast that time didn't matter.  Only timing mattered.  For an example of the drastic changes in a short time, compare photos 9 & 13 which are less than one-and-a-half minutes apart.  Never mind timing, Larry had other places to take me.  I wasted a little more time when we finally got back on the trail by stopping for a shot of the walrus rock in #25 and the odd pile of stones behind it in 26.   Larry gave me a great lesson on focus that really helped with the dof on 28, and henceforward I'm sure.  By the time we were retracing our steps we had to really focus on our next location and didn't have time to really explore the Call Of The Canyon, but more on that in the blog for April 23rd.  I will mention before leaving that Larry married Wendy through the arch on Photo 30. 

Back on the road.  This time south back through town and left on the Upper Loop Road to the Red Rock Crossing.  Larry talked of Wendy and I probably interrupted him with stories of Barb.  Then we hit on baseball, and, if we didn't have a deadline, we probably would have pulled over.  Me the coach hitting fungo to my new shortstop.  Hell, deadline didn't matter; the real problem was we didn't have a bat and ball.  No matter.  By this time we were on Chavez Ranch Road.  Sunset seemed to wait for us. 

After making good with Butch at the toll booth we pulled into the last parking spot and rushed off to The Spot, me trying to keep up with the shortstop, although earlier he mentioned I was one of the faster walkers he ever hiked with.  By now I was feeling like I could use a walker.  Did I mention that my boots and socks were mud-soaked?  We trudge on and come to a whole line of photographers setup to shoot Cathedral Rock when the light screams "NOW!"  We excuse ourselves as we pass in front of them, walking across the water (Larry on it, I recall), me carefully following my guide's expert advice like, "You have to step on this rock right on this spot and be sure of your footing."  What a sight.  Wonder what those other folks thought of the near disruption to their setup.  Eventually we come to a point along the water and Larry says, "In this way," and I do.  There it is!  That's the shot.  I immediately setup and peer through the viewfinder.  Out of habit I turn to see if I am in anyone's way.  We are far from those other guys, but there IS a guy kneeling just 50 yards or so behind us and focusing on the same scene.  I motioned for him to let me know if I get in his way.  He mumbled or waved with little attempt to communicate so I picked up and walked back to disrupt his creative connection.  Turns out this prospector's name is Pete, and, after he realized who Larry was, quickly packed up to hurry to our better location.  Now Pete has a shot not only like Photo 36 but one with an added reflection like 32.  I was thinking of Ray Listanski from our photo club back home.  Ray told me to be sure I got to Red Rock Crossing.  Thanks, Ray.  Thanks, Larry.

We returned to Palatki making sure we called for a reservation. We arrived when the light was high and harsh. For reasons I forget we were not allowed up into the ruins; we could only shoot them from a nearby hill. From there I got this 15-shot pano. We then made the short climb to the pictographs. We were told that the Honhanki ruins, just around the corner, might allow more access to their ruins. They did -kinda. 

After maneuvering the rental out of the dusty environs of historical ruins we took a pleasant drive around the Red Rock Loop and headed back to Picazzo's. Now that is a place I recommend. Bellies full, we made a quick stop on Upper Loop before heading home for our nightlife. Not a great day of photos, but most definitely a great day.

We didn't mind getting up early and getting there before it opened today because today we started at the Chapel of the Holy Cross. I just wanted some shots of what was around the structure more than what was in it. There were a few others there who either had the same idea or didn't yet know about Sedona's 8-o'clock rule. By the time we were heading back down to our car the attraction was officially open and the crowds were starting to gather.

We moved south with a quick stop at Bell Rock --not a hike to, around, on or up it, just a quick we-were-there shot and we were moving southwest again. This time to Montezuma's Castle. 

The V Bar V section of this gallery (1 thru 13) belong more to the preceding one. It was included with the late-day stuff just to get a better balance of numbers in each group. After our morning drive down Route 179 and back we played around town awhile, then laid around the hotel room. My favorite shot of the so-called boredom is number 19. Notice my shoes still drying out from my fun with Larry Lindahl. You can also see a bit of his new book on my first read through in photo 18. 

Arresting our rest was the rest of the day. On our scenic drive around the Red Rock Loop yesterday I noticed a few trees I wanted to meet. They are on a little knoll on a left turnout when approached from the Upper Loop side. I was surprised, to say the least, to find Barb and I had the hill all to ourselves on a Saturday night. My intention was to put these trees in the foreground of some sunset shots. As it turned out they were more of the subject with the sunset in the background. It's always good to allow spontaneity to trump plan. 

Our first time in Sedona was quickly coming to an end.  This was our last official day.  Tomorrow we were off to Flagstaff for the day, then flying out at 5:30am Tuesday.  But this was Sunday, Tom Kelly's day off, and my day to take advantage of his generous offer --just how generous I would soon find out.  Most of our morning was spent drying my boots, which is not an easy task considering that the Arizona air doesn't admit much moisture. 

Tom Kelly is the cheery photographer you'll find in the back space (with the expensive stuff) at Rollie's Camera on Main Street.  He is a knowledgeable craftsman animated by a very giving spirit.  Couple all of that with his love of hiking and you have the perfect photography guide.  He said he'd pick me up at our hotel at 3 and of course I was ready by 8, finally getting used to Sedona Time.

Finally 3 o'clock rolled in and so did Tom.  Our first stop was an old parking lot just up the road.  He mentioned what the building used to be and what was the plan to develop the space, but all I could see was the surrounding beauty.  Isn't it telling how we all want to give names to the rocks, water and mountains that demand our attention?  As I've mentioned many times, most often the names I use are not the official designations (usually because I don't know it), but sometimes they are too well known to accept silly pseudonyms.  Snoopy Rock is one such icon.  Tom noticed my searching eyes when he said, "There is Snoopy,"  and explained that he often has to take people by the shoulders to literally point it out.  Once I realized "Snoopy" was lying on his back, the little pooch was easier to detect.  He was captured in photos 4 & 5.  In #5 I've also named the formation standing over the dog pile of rocks; the photo is named Three Totem Kings Visit The Resting Red Baron.  This jump-started my human inclination for naming and, not knowing what that big hill of red rock in photo 1 is called, decided to name it Whiley Mountain.  See photo 2 for an explanation.  Tom recounted other popular names, some rarely spoken although rather obvious.  He pointed out The Mitten.  I've seen photos of The Mitten Ridge and wondered why it was called that, but seeing it from here was revealing.  Although we were on the wrong side of the light I brought home a poor representation in photo 13. 

Later in our walk I mentioned the dust bunnies that were finding resting places on my camera's sensor, and my fear of cleaning them off.  Tom said, "No problem.  We can stop at the store and I'll clean it for you."  What?!?  Yep, my new best friend cleared those bunnies away as quick as St. Patty chased the snakes out of Ireland.  He also taught me to do it myself.  My load will forever be lighter, my Sedona smile brighter. 

We then headed up to Sugarloaf Trail.  At one point I was disappointed I didn't drag my Gig-A-Pan through the airports --or let Barb, who offered, lug it.  Sedona has a thousand spots where it can be set it up to capture some of the amazing surroundings.   Here is a substitute 21-stitch pano taken when I got tired of the climb and didn't want to show the signs of my age to Tom, who is either 6-months older or younger --I forget which.  With the Gig-A-Pan I would have been able to include all of the houses and roads below the mountains. 

After that respite we continued up, but lost the path once when we got carried away with our conversation.  Again the sunset waited.  When we reached the summit it smiled upon the view in every direction.  At one point Tom said, "Here. Do you want to try this filter?"  His generous hand held his enhancement filter.  I was thinking, "Wow, I wonder if I could get Tom and his wonderful wife Sema to adopt me & Barb.  How cool to be  always right there with something --even when I don't know I need it. And wouldn't it be cool to have dad work at the camera store?"  I forget when I screwed the filter onto my lens and the EXIF doesn't acquire that info, but it was used on some of those shots from the top. 

In photos 20, 27 & 37 you can find The Coffee Pot.  That's the official name for it.  We could see it from our hotel balcony but Barb had a hard time recognizing it until I said, "Think of cowboy coffee." 

The light was quickly changing and the photo ops were plenty and fleeting, yet within the hurried pace there was a thrilling relaxation.  When I pushed the remote release for photo 26 I thought I saw a meteor burn up in the Sedona sky.  A quick circle around the summit to see the sunlight from all angles, and I packed up with a respectful salute tip of my cap.  I folded up the tripod legs and turned toward my camera bag when I saw another streak in the dark sky.  Clutching the tripod legs with my camera still mounted I quickly spun the wheel to reduce the speed and manually snapped the final photo for the gallery.  It's a bit shaky but I caught the final 1/8th second of that rocks solid existence.  The cowboy-boot silhouette was a fitting farewell from this place to this happy photog from PA. 

As we descended I seemed to rise on a cloud of contentment and beamed with the spirit of this remarkable piece of the planet indelibly etched into my soul.  Just before we climb back into the car my generous guide did it again.  "Ginger beer?" he rhetorically asked handing me a chilled bottle from his cooler.  Thanks, Tom.

Not much to this day.  We checked out early enough to make a last stop at West Fork on our way to Flagstaff.  Then the rest of the day was walking around the town with my Olympus PEN camera.  Our West Fork stop was short.  We retraced some of the way I'd gone with Larry Lindahl, now so long ago. 

The structures found in photos 3 thru 7 are of what is left of a production crew's digs for the 1922 Zane Grey movie Call Of The Canyon ---er, I read something about a Mayhew's Lodge.  The Reader can do the research if necessary.  In any event, I heard a woman ask the party she was strolling with, "Is this an old Indian village?"  I augmented the shrugging-shoulders replies from her group with a mention of the movie.  They thanked me and moved on.  Later I caught up with them at the Register Box.  I followed up my earlier information with the usual caveat about my ignorance in spite of my apparent knowledge.  They asked where I was from.  When I said Pennsylvania they asked, "Straub?"  Yes, I said surprised.  They must have heard of me.  "We saw your name in the book," they said pointing to the register and sticking a proper pin into my inflated ego. 

All that reminds me of an incident occurring on a small prop plane from Philly to home the next day.  Barb and I were seated in the first row and other passengers were filing by as the boarding procession carried its usual tension.  One rather loud guy standing in line just passed us said, "Marty?"  I said, "Hey, how you doin'?" as if I actually recognized him.  I was whispering to Barb that I have no idea who he was when he made his way back through the line to ask, "You have no idea who I am, do you?"  I admitted my ignorance and waited for the reminder.  Instead he said, "Haha.  I just read your name tag," and pointed to my camera bag in the overhead storage.  The whole plane cracked up.  I led the applause. 

The first leg of our return flight was at 5:30am which means we really didn't get any sleep.  We arrived at the airport before the TSA employees, had to juggle weight between luggage pieces, then settle back for the ride home.  Sure we missed home, and now we miss Sedona.