Between Heaven and Hell

Beginnings and Endings

I  declare this backpack trip a success, two days that demanded a hotel stay with room service by way of recovery.  There was no water on the 16 mile route and we had to pass a hell hound to enter the trail.  My wife Pam, fell once while hiking alone and fended off a mountain with her trekking pole. On the other hand, every step offered a new 360 degree breathtaking view, we had just enough water to make it back.  On the trip up, night fell before we reached the Juniper Basin camp.  We found the route by searching with our headlamps, cairn to cairn, because the path, crossing solid rock, was seldom visible even in daylight.  An angel literally guided us the final way.

A relative success, also, in comparison with my return from taking “Sunset on Rincon Peak.”

Sunset on Rincon Peak — from an early visit to Tanque Verde Peak, November 2006

This aspect (above)  is 30 / 20 minutes from the parking lot.  30 minutes walking up the steep Tanque Verde trail and 20 for the downhill return.  “Sunset on Rincon Peak” required I wait, fully setup, until the last minutes before darkness, and darkness is complete is sudden in the desert.  Taking on of the steps too fast, I stumbled face first into a huge prickly pear cactus.  A month later I was still pulling out spines from my chest and arms.  Nothing like this happened to either of us on this trip.

You can judge the trips success from these photographs from the trail.

The Edge of Tanque Verde Basin, Looking East

Tanque Verde Basin, East by Southeast

Catalinas and Blasted Tree

Tanque Verde
Ridge, North by NorthEast

Tanque Verde Ridge, North by NorthWest

Tanque Verde Ridge, NorthEast

A Corner of Paradise — Enfield Gorge, Part 3

Sycamore Grove

These are exploratory photographs of the Enfield Gorge near Ithaca, New York and in the Finger Lakes region of central New York State.  I am capturing the feel of the place to understand what works visually.

Part 1 started from a lookout point over the upper gorge.

In Part 2 We Explore a Forest in the Gorge and Discover a Waterfall.

From the forest at the foot of Lucifer Falls Pam and I retraced out path up the Cliff Stair.  Lingering at the Lucifer Falls overlook we noticed a child on the trail across the gorge.  Here was a barricade placed to prevent entry to the upper gorge.  Many parts of the gorge, including above the falls, close from late Fall to mid-spring due to the danger of rock falls and slipping on the slick rocks to fall into the spring swollen creek.  Pam and I commented on the wisdom of letting hikers come that far, since the cliff above is at least a hundred feet of overhanging, crumbling rock.

We stayed safe on the trail running along southern gorge cliffs.  The forested terrain is exceptional and the trail traverses several interesting gorge overlooks.  Access  to the upper park is down a long slope that ends near the parking lot.  This is the site of a Mill, now a museum.

A Hidden Wonder

This clearing is our favorite picnic spot, tucked away on the other side of Enfield Creek from the upper gorge entry.  On this bright cold spring day we had it almost to ourselves, though we were shooting instead of picnicking.  In these shots I explore the photographic possibilities of the location.

The Lost Hamlet of Enfield Falls

It was here the hamlet of Enfield Falls took hold in the 19th century. These last few years, Professor Baugher of the archeology program at Cornell, and her students, are digging the remains on a rise above this picnic area.

The people of this lost hamlet must have enjoyed this broad clearing graced by a grove of American Sycamore.  Sycamores have the broadest trunk of a native tree, growing to over ten (10) feet in diameter.  Along creeks and rivers, such as this Enfield Falls picnic ground, you might find hollow trunks of old trees providing animal dens.  Sycamores grow quickly and live for hundreds of years.  The leaves are large and stiff, close to maples in shape.

On Enfield Creek, looking upstream from the Upper Gorge Gallery

This view is from a spot many gorge visitors walk by.  Few cross one of the three bridges across Enfield Creek, walk a short way to the unsigned picnic area.  Here where it is the stately white trunks of the Sycamore grove are seen from afar, standing out brightly in the winter and early spring landscape.

Waiting for Spring

These seed balls each hang on a single stalk, an identifier for this Sycamore species.  Named Platanus occidentalis from the Greek “platy,” for broad, and “occidere,” Latin for “to set, as in the sun,” meaning of the west.

Button, Button: Who’s Go The Button?

Hanging on all winter, these balls will fall apart soon, in the spring, to disperse thousands of small seeds. Where the seeds attach remains a hard, button-like core.  Another name for American Sycamore, is “Buttonwood.”

The American Sycamore is native to the eastern and central United States, occurring in all states, except Minnesota, east of the great plains. You can also experience them in the mountains of northeastern Mexico.

Visit two of my blogs that feature a different Sycamore species native to the southwest: the Arizona Sycamore.

Arizona Sycamores at Reavis Ranch, the Superstition Wilderness

Learn about Sycamore survival strategies….

A Corner of Paradise — Enfield Gorge, Part 2

A Forest in the Gorge

These are exploratory photographs of the Enfield Gorge near Ithaca, New York and in the Finger Lakes region of central New York State.  I am capturing the feel of the place to understand what works visually.

Part I started from a lookout point over the upper gorge.

The Cliff Stair descends 160 feet in 0.05 of a mile.  That is 3,200 feet of elevation change per mile.  On a March day such as this, the inner gorge is dangerous and still closed for the winter.  This means a visit to the gorge floor below Lucifer falls requires you to descend and ascend the stairs, unless you hike out to the lower park.

What Lives By the Stair

Here we descend the lower courses of the stair while I linger on the plants of the cliff wall.  If you visit this spot I recommend a flash attachment set to “fill”.  Many of these shots were impossible without it.

Lichen Abstract

Waiting for Spring

These ferns grow from a column of rock at the top of the bottom course of stairs.

A moss tapistry

The Gorge Forest

The Enfield Gorge flattens out at the foot of the Cliff Stair and there is space for a marvelous forest.  It is an ancient space, carpeted with myrtle and moss.

Fallen trees are left to return to the soil.

Forest Waterfall

Enfield Creek flowing from the waterfall pool.

The gorge trail runs along the bottom of that crumbling cliff, a good reason for closing this footpath until well into spring.

My personal favorite view of this forest waterfall.

My next Enfield Gorge blog will feature this stand of sycamores.

A Corner of Paradise — Enfield Gorge, Part I

The Cliff Stair

These are exploratory photographs of the Enfield Gorge near Ithaca, New York and in the Finger Lakes region of central New York State.  I am capturing the feel of the place to understand what works visually.

Part I starts from a lookout point over the upper gorge.

Approach to Lucifer Falls from Overlook

Pam Negotiating the Cliff Stair

Down the Cliff Stairs

The Plaque Nook on the Stairs

Robert and Laura Treman donated Enfield Gorge to New York State, for conservation and respectful use.

The plaque nook has a comfortable seat and a great view out into the gorge and the valley beyond. This was a bright March day. The leaves come out in April.

The Plaque Nook is a welcome destination on the climb up the Cliff Stairs.

Ferns!!

The walls of the Cliff Stair face generally northeast, favoring shade-loving species such as ferns and moss.

For the rest of this chapter we linger on this photogenic early spring growth.

In Part II we reach the bottom of the Cliff Stairs, explore the gorge floor and a waterfall.

This is a small corner of Enfield Gorge,  thank you for enjoying it with me.

Saint Patricks Day New York City 2002

Irish Eyes are Smiling.

On the morning of Saturday, March 16, 2002 my son, Sean, and I traveled walked from my childhood home to the Albertson Long Island Railroad station where we caught a west bound train for Penn Station. Our destination was the Metropolitian Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue to attend the first Saint Patricks Day parade post September 11, 2011.

I used a Sony Mavica 2.5 MP digital camera. It featured a handy “zoom” feature and ran from 3.5″ disks. Each disk held about 4 photos and I had a pocket full of them.

Here are my photographs, as flawed as they are, as a record of that time.

The parade offered silence for the victims of September 11, 2001..still fresh in everyone's minds.

All participants turned toward “Ground Zero” the former site of the World Trade Center.

There was a complete silence for a minute...

...in memory of and respect for the victims.

The trees were budding.

The parade resumed.

Allentown is in New Jersey, a bit south and west of New York City. These close-up of marchers were difficult because the zoom was on full and I needed to hold the camera very steady while panning (following the marchers) because there was a delay between pressing the shutter and capturing the image.

A piper from Allentown.

from WikiPedia “Kevin Barry’s death at the hands of the English is considered a watershed moment in the Irish conflict. His execution outraged public opinion in Ireland and throughout the world, because of his youth. The timing of his death was also crucial, in that his hanging came only days after the death on hunger strike of Terence MacSwiney – the republican Lord Mayor of Cork – and brought public opinion to fever-pitch. His treatment and death attracted great international attention and attempts were made by U.S., British, and Vatican officials to secure a reprieve. His execution and MacSwiney’s death precipitated a dramatic escalation in violence as the Irish War of Independence entered its most bloody phase.”

In Memory of Kevin Barry.

Throughout the length of the parade these delegations, representing exiles from Irish counties in Ireland, march and often carry a banner in the vanguard.  The County Carlow delegation displayed this Kevin Barry banner.

These are associations of people representing Irish exiles from the named county.

County Donegal.

Parade spectators are discouraged from tagging along with these delegations.

The County Donegal banner.

Drum Major and Pipers.

The Emerald Society of the New York Police Department.

Emerald Society Marchers.

343 New York City Firemen perished in the line of duty on September 11, 2011

Firemen.

The New York City Fire Department went all out for this parade.

The massed American Flags brought a huge crowd response.

Rightfully Proud Firemen.

Father and daughter making memories.

Mayor Guliani drew a huge response. Here's his back end...he was moving too fast for me....

from Wikipedia: The Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH) is an Irish Catholic. Members must be Catholic and either Irish born or of Irish descent. Its largest membership is now in the United States, where it was founded in New York City in 1836. Its name was adopted by groups of Irish immigrants in the United States, its purpose to act as guards to protect Catholic churches from anti-Catholic forces in the mid 19th century, and to assist Irish Catholic immigrants, especially those who faced discrimination or harsh coal mining working conditions.

Ancient Order of Hibernians from Staten Island (Richmond County, part of New York City)

Here is the rest of my work from that day, without further comment….

An Elm

I lived at a place called Malloryville on the east bank of Fall Creek from March 1986 through November 2011 when my wife, Pam, and I moved to Ithaca and my son, Sean, took over our Malloryville Home

The Cemetery Elm

During those twenty-five seasons, on the road to Ithaca I noticed a large graceful tree with a full spheroid crown and limbs like waving arms.

Cemetery Elm in Winter

It grows from a modest prominence on the west bank of Fall Creek where the stream meandered across a plain.  Nearby is a split rail fence around a scattering of headstones and pines named the R.D. Simons Farm Cemetery.  You can stand on the spot and hear the flow of Fall Creek.

Cemetary Elm

As winter changed to spring I noticed the first greening of the limbs and, each November, the eerie form of the limbs revealed.  I call the tree an “elm” though I am not certain.  There are other lone survivor elms nearby, the leaves are right for an elm.  Some elm species/specimens have the same shape.

I spent some pleasant hours on the first day of 2006 and on a bright afternoon in early October.

Henry Berton, son of Acres (Acus Burton?) and Samantha, age 10 years, 1 month, 3 days

His grieving parents recorded the death of young Henry Berton, 170 years ago this Saint Patrick’s Day, on a sandstone slab.  Henry Berton was born on Valentine’s Day, 1832.

Henry Berton 10 Years 1 Month 3 Days

You can see this headstone in my “cemetery Tree” by the light it catches and the large spruce nearby.  It is to the left of the elm, between the first and second split rail post and  closer to the second.

A stylized sunflower, symbolic of a devotion to God, is lovingly rendered in the upper quadrant, carved in the sandstone.

Sunflower in Sandstone

The inscription at the foot reads,

“Hark from the lambs a doleful sound / mine ear attend the cry / Ye living men come view the ground / Where you must shortly ly.”

I question the spelling of the father’s name because I came across a web posting with the biography of a Civil War solider named Orrin Burton whose father Acus Burton came to the area from Madison County, New York, in 1830 and lived there to eighty-eight years of age.  Google: “Orrin Burton Tompkins.”

Neither Acres (Acus?) or Samantha Berton (Burton?) have headstones near the Cemetery Elm.

AfterGlow

“AfterGlow” is the last photograph from my November day described in “Ocotillo Sunset, from Saguaro National Park, a diary.”

This image captures the moment when the sun’s light is a memory, just seconds before darkness.

This slice of the western sky was interesting. I switched over to the 200mm telephoto lens (Canon L-series EF 200mm USM) used for the first “diary” images, and snapped off a shot at f22.  Those are the Tucson Mountains in the distance.

Click the pic for a link to “Ocotillo Sunset”.

AfterGlow

Afterglow is sunlight reflect from high atmospheric dust.  Edvard Munch may have included an afterglow sky in his “The Scream” and recent headlines cant “Facebook afterglow lights up IPO markets “.