Category: Travel

White Bluff Picture of the Week

For most of the 1200 miles between Oklahoma City and Barstow, Route 66 and Interstate 40 are stuck together like a zipper. As you drive along the freeway—started in 1957 and completed in 1984—you can see a ghost of the old mother road on the roadside. Sometimes it’s a frontage road with little traffic, in different spots the pavement is gone, and it’s not a road at all.

Arizona has two exceptions to these overlying trails. The first is where Interstate 40 cuts off Peach Springs between Kingman and Seligman, and the second is between Kingman and Needles. In the first case, the freeway cuts miles off the trip by heading straight across country, while the latter deviation is further (albeit quicker) as it skirts the Black Mountain Range.

The section of the historic road that Queen Anne and I explored this month cuts through a mountain pass that Captain Lorenzo Sitgreaves mapped in 1851. Although the trail has beautiful scenery for me to photograph, it is very twisty and slow going, and that’s not ideal for interstate commerce.

Cool Springs Station - A historic gas station converted to a gift shop that now sells hot dogs from a cart.
Cool Springs Station – A historic gas station converted to a gift shop that now sells hot dogs from a cart.

After we finished photographing Thimble Mountain seen in last week’s post, we continued along the road for less than a mile, where we stopped at an old gas station called Cold Springs. The owners have converted it into a gift shop that sells nostalgic Route 66 kitsch, but there were no customers. As I snapped a few pictures, a woman’s voice came from the shadows, “Hello there. How ya doin’?” When I took off my sunglasses, I saw a young woman sitting in the shade next to a hot dog cart. We made small talk, and I asked about her business. “April is normally our best month, but this year it’s a bust.” After promising not to include her in my photos, I took another shot or two before we drove away. Looking back, we should have bought our dinner there. She could have used the money, and her food was probably better than the drive-through meal we got at the Kingman Carl’s Jr.

As we drove further, we had to stop almost immediately again, where the canyon narrowed. On the road’s north side was a pair of sandstone bluffs rising from the dry creek bed. Their cliffs glowed in the late afternoon sun, so of course, I had to capture the moment on film … er, I mean electrons. I’ve since found out that at this location, the road passes between two wilderness areas. To the north is the Mt. Nutt Wilderness, while on the road’s south side is the Warm Springs Wilderness area.

White Bluff - The vertical sandstone cliff of a bluff provide a great home to nesting swallows.
White Bluff – The vertical sandstone cliff of a bluff provides a great home to nesting swallows.

In this week’s featured image—called White Bluff—you can see Mt. Nutt in the distance. At over 5100 feet it is the tallest peak in the Black Mountain Range. To get any closer, you’ll have to hike or grab one of the local wild burros—of which there are many—and ride.

You can see a larger version of White Bluff Butte on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy it. Next week, we’ll travel over the pass and make a stop in Oatman. I hope you’ll join us then.

Until next time — jw

Thimble Mountain Picture of the Week

Don’t tell anyone, but we snuck out of the house again. We had to. It’s the only way I could bring you fresh pictures for May. I think we did okay, though, because—as we always do—we never intended to interact with people. Since I never shoot anything with a face, I don’t run into many humans on the road.

For May, I wanted a road nearby so that we could get out and be home in the afternoon. I chose the section of Old Route 66 that starts in Kingman, travels through Oatman, and winds up at the Colorado River near Topock Marsh. I’ve written about my experiences traveling The Mother Road before but never completed this section. That’s because when my parents got to Kingman, they made a complicated right detour to Las Vegas. Queen Anne and I have visited Oatman several times, so we didn’t need to stop and feed the resident burros. I was more interested in shooting the Black Mountains in Sitgreaves Pass.

There’s a Black Mountain in every Arizona county (sometimes more than one), but the Black Mountain Range that borders the Colorado River from Lake Mead to Topock is the most interesting. It’s 75 miles of jagged volcanic peaks and rhyolite formations along the west border of Mohave County. They’re so rugged that only a handful of roads cross through them—even Interstate 40 loops 60 miles south to avoid the range. Our trip skips that loop as we got off the freeway near the Mohave County Prison, headed west across Sacramento Valley, and through Sitgreaves Pass.

As you drive across the wide valley, creosote dominates the landscape. There are yucca and an occasional cactus along the roadside, but none of the big succulents we have at home. Everything is sparser, which is a typical Mohave Desert. This desert is dryer than our Sonoran home because it rains mostly during winter. The southerly winds that bring the summer monsoons bypass the Mohave.

As the old road approaches the mountains, it travels up a canyon with high peaks on either flank. On the north side is a tall monument that marks the eastern boundary of the pass. Its name is Thimble Mountain, and the granite jewel rises 1400 feet above the valley floor. It would be at home in Monument Valley if it were red sandstone.

Thimble Mountain - The landmark on the eastern side of Sitgreaves Pass
Thimble Mountain – The landmark on the eastern side of Sitgreaves Pass

It’s the subject of this week’s featured image, and I naturally named the photo Thimble Mountain. I’m pleased with the pyramid composition and how the afternoon light shows each plant growing on the slopes. I also like the way the drainage curls around the top. I only wish that the wispy cloud that echoes the peak’s left side was more defined, but I’m no Ansel Adams, so I’ll take what I can.

You can see a larger version of Thimble Mountain on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy it. Next week, we’ll make another stop in Sitgreaves Pass and show you what we found. I hope you’ll join us.

Until next time — jw

Cholla and Brittlebush Picture of the Week

Cholla and Brittlebush

It’s the end of April, and last week we went from, “let’s open up the windows and let some warmth in,” to “Oh my Gawd—turn on the air conditioner.” I don’t recall a year when the temperature gained thirty degrees in a week. I’m not ready for summer; I haven’t even put my sweaters away.

Spring began with an excellent opening act here in southern Yavapai County. In case you didn’t get out, a colorful ribbon of wildflowers lined the roads for weeks. They’re now drying in the heat and will soon turn to the thick golden straw that catches fire if you look at it cross-eyed. As happens every year, the public service announcements are already predicting 2020 to be the worst fire season ever.

Even with the temperatures over 100, spring isn’t over. The second act is about to begin. That’s when the palo verde trees take center stage and sprout bright yellow blossoms. Beneath their canopy, creosote bushes put out dark green leaves punctuated with tiny dots of yellow flowers. While they’re full, they look like a proper shrubbery that any gardener would be proud to have in their garden. But don’t go planting one in your back yard. I’m sarcastic; they’re a weed.

I’m glad that we snuck out for an afternoon and got some desert colors for you—like this week’s featured photo. On the hike that I described in last week’s post, I dawdled along the way back to the truck and shot some flowers near the path. The best of the bunch was this one that I call Cholla and Brittlebush. I find that both of these subjects are hard to capture. Mature cholla is pretty when the light is behind the needles, but as they grow, the stalks are bare and unattractive. Brittlebush flowers grow like a dome covering the plant, but the yellow washes out in bright sunlight.

Cholla and Brittlebush - A young cholla and brittlebush growing under a palo verde tree near Wickenburg, Arizona.
Cholla and Brittlebush – A young cholla and brittlebush growing under a palo verde tree near Wickenburg, Arizona.

None of that happens in this week’s image. I found them growing under a palo verde tree. The cholla is a young plant, so it hasn’t had time to drop its lower branches. The backlight shows off the sharp needles, and the cactus shades the flowers. The flowers at the bottom are more rooted in color, while the sunlight washes out those at the top. There’s even a gap where the olive-colored brittlebush leaves show. The photo may not be a still life worthy of Irving Penn, but I think it explains why April is the best time to experience the Sonoran Desert.

You can see a larger version of Cholla and Brittlebush on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy it. Next week, I’ll begin a new chapter on our back road travel adventures. I’m keeping our destination a secret so the authorities won’t stop us when we sneak out under cover of darkness. Come back next week to see what we found—if we successfully evade the quarantine police.

Until next time — jw

Hidden Springs Ranch Picture of the Week

The cottonwood trees I showcased in this month have told a story of winter in the uplands of Arizona—a part of our state we Zonies keep secret from outsiders. The photos show as much about the chilly morning, crystal clear air, and open spaces as the trees do. After all, there’s nothing special about cottonwood trees—they’re everywhere. Their Latin name is Populas, which means “People’s Tree.” (Wow, did you catch the irony? I have a series of People’s Tree photographs that I shot in Peeples Valley. Yeah, I meant to do that all along).

Although you can find cottonwoods throughout the United States—in one form or another—they’re not widely used in landscaping. In Arizona at least, some homeowners associations explicitly forbid them in their association rules. Although they are fast-growing and provide shade, they’re messy, attack water lines, and are prone to disease, so as they age—just like me—parts fall off. One of their significant irritants is in their name. The mature trees spread seeds to the wind on white cotton-like tufts. When seeds are in the air, it can look like its snowing, and quite a few folks are allergic to them.

If you’re a rancher and you want a fast-growing tree to say, line your driveway, there is an alternative—the Arizona Ash. These trees grow tall quickly, but are less messy, live longer, respond to pruning, and they are more pest resistant. They also have more fall-color than cottonwood, but only slightly. The ash doesn’t get that gnarly old look that interests me.

Hidden Springs Ranch - Well manicured Arizona Ass trees line the drive of the Hidden Springs Ranch in Peeples Valley.
Hidden Springs Ranch – Well manicured Arizona Ash trees line the drive of the Hidden Springs Ranch in Peeples Valley.

When I was shooting my Peeples Valley trees, I first thought that the Hidden Springs Rancher lined his driveway with our friend, the mighty cottonwood. That’s why I photographed the entrance. On second glance, I did a face-slap and thought, “Of course!” Unless you wanted to drive over broken branches all of the time, you would pick a different kind of tree. But, it was winter, and from afar, a bare tree is a bare tree.

I included this week’s photo—called Hidden Springs Ranch—in this series because … well, I needed five pictures instead of the usual four, and my first impressions were wrong. My intentions were good. In case you’re wondering, Hidden Springs is the other ranch in Peeples Valley—they raise horses instead of cattle.

You can see a larger version of Hidden Springs Ranch on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Come back next week when we begin a new series from another Arizona back road.

Until next time — jw

Peeples Valley Cottonwood Picture of the Week

Four years ago, when Queen Anne and I moved to Congress, one of the decisions we made was to cut-the-cable. Well, it wasn’t a hard decision to make because Cox doesn’t cover this area, and we were tired of paying Dish Network more than a hundred bucks a month. Fortunately, we’re in line-of-sight with the South Mountain antennas, so we get the major local channels sharper than a cable signal. To supplement our viewing choices, we bought a TIVO box and signed up for the fastest Internet available in our neck of the woods, and we get the gist of current shows via YouTube.

One of the channels we repeatedly watch is The Daily Show with Trevor Noah. It’s a comedy-news show that we’ve enjoyed since Jon Stewart was the host, and Trevor has carried on well. Last week, or maybe it was the week before, he had a segment titled Is This the Way We Die? – Coronavirus. For Anne and I, that question struck close to home.

I usually shy away from writing about current events—I don’t know why, because I can’t count the number of times that people have called me an opinionated jerk—but, this week, I feel like talking about the elephant in the corner. I know that most of us will catch this bug and shrug it off in a couple of weeks. However, there’s that small percentage of elderly with underlying health issues that are at risk. With my diabetes and Anne’s recent surgery, we are that group. So it got my full attention. I’ve been preoccupied lately with my mortality, and asking myself, “Is this how it all ends?” I’ve concluded that I haven’t run out of film yet, and we’re going to carry on. I always knew that there was an upside in being an anti-social curmudgeon, and my time has finally come. I’ve practiced Social-Distancing for years, so I pretty much have it down pat. Now, if I could get one of you to throw a pack of toilet paper up on the porch now and again, we’ll be fine.

To maintain your sanity, the doctors recommend that you get out of the house and exercise. Walk around your block, ride a bicycle, or just spend some time outside, but stay away from crowds. I’m glad they urged that because it means I can still go out and shoot photographs. With my kind of subjects, I don’t interact with other people so that I won’t harm them or myself, and that brings me to this week’s featured image.

Peeples Valley Cottonwood - An old cottonwood tree growing along a rancher's irrigation line.
Peeples Valley Cottonwood – An old cottonwood tree growing along a rancher’s irrigation line.

This picture is my fourth image in the series of Peeples Valley Cottonwood trees, and this one is called Peeples Valley Cottonwood. It’s an old cottonwood tree growing along a rancher’s irrigation trench. In case you didn’t recognize it, it’s the same tree that is the subject of the first in this series—Broken Cottonwood. The angle is slightly different, and I used a polarizing filter to darken the sky. I think it gives the tree a three-dimensional look.

You can see a larger version of Peeples Valley Cottonwood on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for the final portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw

p.s. I know that these are not going to be the easiest of times, but we’ll get through this. Be kind to one another and find something you enjoy doing. Listen to what the doctors say and stop obsessing on the news.

Meadow Cottonwood Picture of the Week

The part of Yavapai County where Queen Anne and I live is littered with the names of pioneers that came to Arizona looking for gold after the gold rush in California panned out. These places include the towns of Wickenburg, Yarnell, and Stanton—the Weaver Mountains—and Peeples Valley. I didn’t misspell the valley name. It’s not a great commune up there in the mountains, but a rather a lovely flat valley named after a prospector named A. H. Peeples.

I’ve mentioned him before in previous posts. With a set of initials like that, I was relieved (although disappointed) to find that his full name was Abraham Harlow Peeples. He was on an Army expedition lead by Captain Joseph Walker and guided by Pauline Weaver—who, despite the name, was a man. While camping along a creek, some horses (or mules, depending on which story you read) wandered off during the night. Walker sent a couple of wranglers to fetch the animals. When they returned to camp, they talked about gold on top of the hill and showed pockets full of nuggets. Peeples and the rest of the party went to see for themselves. Arizona Place Names said that Abraham picked up $7,000 in gold before breakfast—and that’s in 1863 money. Anyway, he used his new wealth to build a ranch in the valley that bears his name.

Before Anne and I settled in Congress, we looked at several homes up there. It has advantages. With a higher altitude, it has milder summers but doesn’t get snowed in during winter. The valley has beautiful mountain views with the Bradshaw’s to the east the Weaver Range on the south. The little town has a bar and convenience store. What more could you want? However, the closest grocery store is the Safeway in Wickenburg, and that’s where we buy groceries now—fifteen miles in the other direction.

The Maughan Ranch owns most of the land in the valley, and they keep adding to their property. Along Az. 89, there are painted white fences, with black cattle grazing behind them. Our real estate agent joked that the painters are full-time staff because they’ll never finish.

Meadow Cottonwood - a single tree grows in a meadow ravine ensuring a good water supply.
Meadow Cottonwood – a single tree grows in a meadow ravine, ensuring a plentiful water supply.

Lucky for me, the fences don’t block the view of the trees featured in this month’s set of photographs. For this week’s featured image—called Meadow Cottonwood—I leaned against the fence to brace myself when I snapped the photo. This dormant cottonwood is a middle-aged tree that found a meadow ravine to grow in. Backlit by the sun, I’m happy how the delicate branches contrast against the white sky.

You can see a larger version of Meadow Cottonwood on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for another cottonwood portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw

Cottonwood Grove Picture of the Week

I want to begin this week’s post by thanking Deb Poteet for her advice about wearing fish-net stockings. If you missed what she said, it was a helpful comment to last week’s post. She said that she got her information straight from the Candy Store dancers—the gentlemen’s club on Cave Creek Road near Costco. It made both Queen Anne and me wonder what she was doing hanging around old strip clubs. Deb really does surprise us sometimes.

On another subject, Her Majesty is improving with each day. She goes to physical therapy three times a week and limps around the house without her walker or a cane. When I remind her that she doesn’t need to do that, she drops the Chester impersonation. It’s interesting to see how fast a woman can recover when you walk up to her death bed with a bottle of Dawn dish detergent and ask, “How much of this do I put in the dryer?”

Cottonwood Grove - A small grove of cottonwood grow along a dry brook in Peeples Valley, Arizona.
Cottonwood Grove – A small grove of cottonwood grows along a dry brook in Peeples Valley, Arizona.

Meanwhile, back up the mountain in Peeples Valley, and the second in my series of cottonwood tree images. This week’s featured image that I call Cottonwood Grove was another image taken on the Maughan Ranch north of town. Like other members of the Poplar family, these large fast-growing trees only grow where there’s a good water supply. In this image, there’s about a half dozen growing along the banks of a dry brook, which eventually feeds Kirkland Creek. Scenes like this one are familiar throughout the west.

In an Arizona Geography class that I took at Arizona State University, the professor told us how the trees filled the length of the Salt River bed. A family of beavers dammed the river under the Mill Avenue Bridge while the river still flowed. When the Corps of Engineers built the dams east of town, the Salt River stopped flowing, and the trees died, rotted, and eventually, a summer monsoon storm blew them over. That would have been a swell topic for a photo essay, but I wasn’t here then.

You can see a larger version of Cottonwood Grove on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for another cottonwood portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw