The Photography of Dr. Jeffrey P. Harper

A Journey In Four Parts. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part One:  Fort Cochin.

After a complex overnight flight from Bangkok to Mumbai where we waited over eight hours for our connection to Cochin (go here for map and description of Fort Kochi), we were happy to arrive at the Rossetta Wood Castle Hotel.

 

The Rossetta Hotel was built in 1705. It was cheap and very comfortable.  It was located a stones throw from the sea and the old Dutch promenade.

 

The room was air-conditioned, simple, and had a wonderful old tropical musty smell which reminded me of Africa for some reason.

 

After a brief nap, I headed out to take a stroll along the old promenade.  It was a Sunday, so there were lots of people ambling along the path.  I was able to indulge my obsession with peddler's carts.

 

As the sun began to set, the temperature drop, the crowds showed up . . . and so did the ice cream vendors with their bright and shiny carts.

 

The snack vendors also gathered in threes and fours . . . happy to pose.  Snackage was everywhere to be had! The mercury vapor street lights cast a strange yellow pallor over everything . . . marvelously contrasted with the deep blues of the sunset sky.

 

My first sunset in India in 20 years was shaping up to be a good one.  Many people were gathering on a jetty to take it in.  It really was a beautiful evening.

 

I love these street peddlers and their ice cream carts at sunset.  There is something both exciting about them (a child's gauging their prospects of getting an ice cream) and forlorn . . .

 

The local people referred to these contraptions as "Chinese nets."

 

There were many of these Lazza Ice Cream carts.  Apparently the Lazza Salesman of the Year had been in town with a line of credit and a truck full of carts!  I never saw anybody actually purchase an ice cream from these guys.

 

Night snackage.

 

Nicely arrayed Indian night snackage.

 

Sticking your head under the roof of one of these night snackage mobile sales units was like peeking through a portal that opened up onto an alternate universe.  No kidding.

 

In some places several peddlars had circled their carts, like a barrier against the immensity of the night.

 

Cochin has had a large Jewish population since the 2nd century.  There are many lovely old Jewish merchants homes around Cochin.  Some, like this one, have been made into restaurants.  My friends Bud and Allan joined me for a sumptuous meal here.

 

We walked around the old town and marvelled at Cochin's rich history.  Ah!  It seems the Lazza salesman had a unit that fits nicely in the back of a Tuk-tuk truck.

 

I woke up very early the next morning to take a stroll around and take some photos before the houseboat company came to pick us up.  The sky was overcast . . . not ideal for photography, but it didn't matter. Cochin's 14th-18th century high point of development was evident everywhere.

 

Cochin saw Middle eastern Jewish and Islamic settlement, followed by Portugese and Dutch colonial settlements, and eventually the British Raj.  The Dutch-built St. Francis Church, 1882, is one of the newer churches here.

 

The Dutch left behind some nice architecture . . . .

 

. . . and that's not all the Dutch left behind!  I LOVED this sign: How far is "O Km"?  Yes, well, I guess a cemetery would be "God's own country" if you believed in that kind of thing.  Actually, "God's Own Country" was a phrase coined by the Kerala Tourist Authority . . .  oh well.  I went to God's Own Country, er, I mean, the old Dutch cemetary, but it was locked.  It was founded in 1724.

 

A four-hundred year old wall has a history.

 

I was in street peddler's cart HEAVEN!  This one definitely ranks in my all time second decile!

 

Cochin is a side trip on the global tourist map.  It has been discovered.  As such, there have been a number of the old colonial mansions restored and converted into up-scale "boutique" hotels.

 

This boutique hotel was a bit over the top: shades of Bali . . . too much of a shade of Bali.  I preferred the simple honesty of the Rossetta.

 

Kerala is a "communist" state within India.  I use quotations because it is a very home-grown communism without any foreign affiliations.  The government here is concerned with "social uplift" as many here told me.

 

My morning walkabout led me through the wondrous damp streets of early morning Fort Cochin, India.

 

Fort Cochin has many old forts, vestiges of the various colonial interlopers.  My love of dilapidation, corrugation, and old walls was met here in spades!

 

Of course the biggest and nicest house in the city is the Bishops House.  One can imagine tea with the Viceroy and Bishop on the veranda not long after its 1557 founding.  Those pesky Christians have been at it for a long time.

 

There are blocks and blocks of old Dutch homes in Fort Cochin.

 

There are many churches in Kerala, but the Santa Cruz Cathedral was particularly magnificent.  I caught convent dwellers skipping off to school.

 

Rural folk stepping into the interior of the Santa Cruz Cathedral for the first time must have been mighty impressed.

 

Those early church architects sure knew how to use natural light.  Yummie.

 

"Forgive Them For They Know Not What They Do" -- a 16th Century European Christian world view.

 

The Ambassador was manufactured in India for oer 50 years virtually unchanged.  Lovely car.

 

It seemed like every corner I walked around that morning presented a fantastic wall in the process of allowing time and Nature make it into Art.

 

I was stopped in my tracks . .  in stunned silence at the sight of this building . . . telling its history in light and color.  I had to investigate . . . and to study it photographically.  Graffiti upon graffiti, moss upon moss, paint upon paint, water stains upon water stains.

 

The colors of time and nature violated by a grey cement window repair.

 

The same building: wall and window.

 

Window only. Not just a window.

 

How to frame this window?  What was this building used for?

 

I walked around the corner and discovered that I had been photographing the old wing of the Cochin Secondary School, abandoned in 1901 when this new structure was built.

 

It was getting near 9:00am, so I rushed back to the hotel, only stopping when a wall called to me.  ("Doctor, the walls are talking to me!")

 

Was this a stain, or a Rorschach of the city's history? 

 

I think of these old Cochin walls as half way between their erection, and being discovered as ancient finds by some future archeologist.

 

I snapped this last wall, which seemed to have gladly given itself over to worlds upon it, before arriving at the hotel just in time for a quick breakfast and then on to the next adventure on the houseboat. 

 

FORT COCHIN REVISITED

Actually, we stayed in Fort Cochin twice: once when we arrived, and once when we returned from the three-day houseboat cruise in the Appleby backwaters.  On our way back from the houseboat tour, our driver stopped off at some of the local tourist hot spots . . . . where we weren't the only tourists.  With 1,000,000,000 people living in India, and 300,000,000 of them living at or above a middle class life style, there are a lot of Indian tourists.  And good for them.  That is the 16th Century Synagogue in the background.

 

Fort Cochin has had a large Jewish presence since the 2nd Century (!).

 

The Paradesi Synagogue.  Imagine the wonderful minds that have crossed through this doorway for the past 500 years.  The Synagogue was closed due to mourning for a recently departed member of this close knit community.

 

The ancient Fort Kochi synagogue.  The street signs in the area declared, "Jewtown."

 

My infatuation with street peddler's carts was satisfied at another tourist stop (an old Prince's palace): The Digital Cart!  Notice the sign touting the availability of "Memory Cards, Digital Camera Cards, Batteries . . . ."! The times they are a'changin' INDEED!

 

After we returned to our hotel, I went walkabout and discovered this restored-for-tourists 1880s jail.

 

The former occupants of this jail cell may, or may not have appreciated the marvelous play of light and shadow.

 

I came across these shade-dwelling Tuk-Tuk driers who consented to a photograph . . .

 

. . . and since I was hot and tired, and Fort Cochin is kind of spread out, I engaged Mohammed for an afternoon's city tour.

 

It was great idea to have hired a personal Tuk-Tuk.  Mohammed would stop whenever I saw an old window . . .

 

. . . or a photogenic old street stall.

 

Even in its dilapidation, there is Old World Charm about Fort Cochin.

 

Mohammed decided I needed to see that there were all kinds of religions practiced in Fort Cochin, and they all got along "without trouble." He brought me first to a Jain temple.  Jainism teaches non-violence to all living things and non-attachment and non aversion to the world.

 

Pigeons are not fools!  They figured out the safest place in the city was in the yard of the non-violent Jain Temple.

 

The grounds of the Jain Temple were extremely peaceful . . . perhaps a little too peaceful for this sleeping Jian devotee.

 

Our next stop was to be one of the Hindu Temples, but first we had to stop at a fruit market area . . .

 

. . . where it happened Mohammed had a cousin in the actual fruit business.  What a coincidence.  I bought a bag of very delicious LOCAL oranges.

 

There were many, many small shops like this one . . . . where the owners seemed only to earn enough for a subsistence life style.  No greed, no hurrying about.

 

Along our route to the Hindu Temple, these local beauties asked me to take their photo.

 

I suspected this old woodcutter was snot receiving enough to pay for the calories he needed for the hard  work he did every day.

 

A well fed Fort Cochin construction worker.

 

One of the old Fort Cochin Hindu temples . . . fantastic.

 

These young temple dwellers saw that I had a camera and demanded a photograph.  I obliged. These children seemed very creepy to me . . . like they were a special kind of BEING one might  see in a science fiction movie: I suspected they were perhaps 400-500 years old by the way they acted and looked at me.

 

Some of the doors in the interior of this temple appeared very old.  I took a lot of Old Door photos . . . maybe I should do a book titled, The Old Doors of Fort Cochin, India.

 

This would make a nice cover photo for my book on Cochin Doors. My Tuk-Tuk, driver, Mohammed, got into my obsession with doors too . . . he liked the old doors too and took me to several amazing examples.

 

Yes, Mohammed had been hoping to meet a tourist like me to share his love of old doors.  What luck!

 

From the simple to the elaborate, I was them all . . . and was very happy about it too.

 

I would love one day to take a very large format camera to photograph these doors . . . and then print them life size . . . . to stand in front of these entryways, with its history so visible, is a real joy.

 

Mohammed was not shy about posing in front of these old doors either.  It was good to have a model handy.  Maybe he has done this before?

 

We went to an old Portuguese-era warehouse and ran into this door: No photography inside.  Good thing I do not read Hindi (actually I do) . . . .

 

A forbidden photograph:  inside the old Portuguese-era (16th century) warehouse courtyard, now used as a dried ginger gleaning and sorting facility . . .

 

I can see why they might not want photographs in here . . . it was down right Medieval.

 

A [surprised] Fort Cochin ginger gleaner.

 

I asked this aging ginger gleaner if I could photograph her and she struck this pose for me.

 

The results of all that ginger gleaning.

 

The ginger facility also housed an Everything Imaginable Made From Ginger To Be Sold To Tourists shop. Yes, it was right through that green door Mohammed is leaning next to.  What color!  We went in, but I did not buy anything . . . it was getting cloudy, and I wanted to see more of Old Fort Cochin.

 

I loved the ambience of this town!

 

Well, not all of Fort Cochin was pleasing.  I am often a little angered when I see Christian churches outside Europe, and I felt the same way in The Congo.  Why spread this nutball idea around the world like it was the privelaged discourse to end all discourse?

 

As Christianity, Islam, and Judaism are sects of the same religion, I guess I was kind of glad when Mohammed said I could not enter his own Mosque.

 

An amazing structure.  I was struck by how a lack of general building maintenance could produce such beauty.  It is important to be reminded of the impermanence of our human existence, and these decaying structures, like the non-linearity of Bangkok (my home), are excellent reminders that humankind is not on some kind of preordained teleological journey towards perfection.

 

The television posted bill is just priceless.  It looks like an enlargement of some old fashioned computer clip-art.  Nice.

 

If you have snooped around my blog you know that corrugation and dilapidation are among my favorite themes . . . . so I couldn't resist when I saw this masterpiece of Corrugated Art.

 

I am sometimes concerned that I only show the interesting or amazing sights of places I visit, overlooking the reality of the mundane day-to-day life of a place.  I hope I don't: my intent is to elevate the simple and overlooked into a state of the supramundane in an attempt to blast false, discursively constructed meta-narratives and false hierarchies away. A street in the Islamic quarter of Fort Cochin, Kerala, India.

 

My love of old windows and doors is only exceeded by sealed-up old windows and doors.  Why?  Maybe I would benefit from some Gestalt psychotherapy . . . . I went back to the hotel after this, figuring I would never get a better photo on the entire trip.

 

My racing buddies, Bud and Allan, and I spent our last evening in Fort Cochin strolling the seaside promenade.

 

The cooks at our hotel recommended we go an purchase some fresh fish that they would cook any way we liked.  Instead we asked if they could pick one out for us.  They did, and cooked one of the most delicious meals I have ever had!  After dinner we found the source of the delicious fish.

 

As it turned out, the night fish stalls serviced all the hotels and guest houses of Fort Cochin, all of whom asked their guests if they wanted to purchase fresh fish that they would then cook however you would want it.

 

 We had to wake early the next morning to catch a flight to New Delhi, so this was the last photo I took in Fort Cochin, Kerala, India.  What a  wonderful place to visit.

 

OK, this was the last photo in Cochin.  This inibriated, but friendly, fellow wished to befriend us by engaging in a conversation that none of us could understand, including him, I believe.

 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part Two: Kerala Backwater Houseboat Cruise (Three Days & Two Nights)

Let the lazy cruise begin!  As far as we could figure out, this was an exact sister ship to our own houseboat (photo taken from ours).

 

We boarded our houseboat in a narrow channel that had many other houseboats of varying configurations.

 

We were happy to set off at a leisurely pace out into the Kerala Backwaters.

 

This boat, and background, reminded me of my river boat trip up the Congo River 30 years ago.  It's the same idea the world over: a river bus.

 

Other than the other houseboats in the backwaters, there wasn't much human activity to be observed out here.  It felt very vast and remote out there.

 

Although miles from anywhere, and accessible only by boat, the missionaries had been out here converting souls. 

 

Our boatman pulled over a  couple of times, mostly to see if we wanted to purchase [very expensive] shrimp or fish.  We were very satisfied with the food they were serving and declined. This is our houseboat.  Yes, it had a satellite dish, but we never turned on the T.V.

 

This abandoned building must have been a government tariff office as it was located at the junction of two very large canals.

 

We all got off the houseboat here and had fun photographing each other posing in and outside of the old photogenic building.

 

Bud is a science teacher and pointed out the interesting green expansion streaks on the trunk of this rapidly growing palm.

 

Yep, even way the hell out in the backwaters I managed to find an dilapidated old shuttered window to shoot.  Lucky me!

 

The land around the canals were in various stages of land reclamation: this area was completely reclaimed from the brackish waters as rice fields.

 

As can be seen in the background, other land areas had had their salt water pumped out and were soaking in rainwater, which was also pumped out, in an effort to desalinate the soil.

 

Late October is suppose to be one of the best times for the backwater houseboat trips, but we had thunderstorms with heavy rain every afternoon.  The white egrets seemed to be getting ready for the deluge.

 

All kinds of people use the backwater bus as the only way to get around . . . including  some tourists, I see.

 

When the storm hit in the late afternoon, the many houseboats headed for the smaller canals to avoid any wave action.  You can count 20 houseboats in this photo!  We were never out of sight of at least three other boats.  It didn't matter.

 

Some of the other houseboats pulled over in the heaviest of the rain . . . . .

 

. . . but not our pilot!  He pushed on, as a reduced speed, throughout the storm.

 

I would imagine those involved with reclaiming this land were happy to see such a big downpour.

 

The storm finally broke leaving this amazing afternoon light.  I knew we were going to be in for a beautiful sunset.

 

From our upper floor crows nest we could see thunder storms all around.

 

Day gradually turned to night . . . .

 

. . . the sky turned from a leaden grey to the yellow warmth of golden light.

 

With the sun setting, our pilot pulled up behind another houseboat to tie up for the night.

 

The sunset was shaping up to be incredible.  I put some Indian flute music on the Jambox MusicBar and we all sat back and fell into a mellow stupor, lulled by the beauty of the music and sunset.

 

Stunning.

 

Every minute the sunset presented different colors and shades . . .

 

. . . I became completely indiscriminate in my photo taking . . . running around saying, "WOW!  Look at it now!" . . . and clicking a few more shots.

 

This was directly across the canal from where we had tied up for the night.

 

After about 50 of these shots I got the idea to create a sequence that would play as a sideshow on this site . . . .

 

Each of these would make a great poster.  The darker it got, the more lightning we could see in the distant clouds.  The night sky was not over.

 

After many, many attempts, I finally captured a little snippet of lightning flashing in the distance.  It was a magic night.

                                 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was woken early the next day by the sound of soft splashing outside the houseboat and went out to investigate.  Our crew was out trying to net some fish.

 

Did I mention that every meal was a gourmet meal?  They were not only delicious, but always beautifully presented, like this breakfast feast.

 

The construction detail of our houseboat was very intricate . . . and beautiful in the morning light.

 

At around 9:00am our crew cast off and we rejoined our journey on the backwaters of Kerala.

 

It was a beautiful cool morning, so there qere many more people out on the backwaters in all forms of watercraft.

 

This local fellow looked like he has seen his share of tourists in houseboats invading the serenity of his home.

 

I have no idea what these canalside residents thought of us as we passed . . .

 

. . . I hope they saw us as travellers who were there to appreciate the beauty of the natural and manmade world they inhabit.

 

A Kerala Huck Finn . . . with a full life ahead of him . . .

 

. . . and the knowledge that the government of Kerala is looking after his basic needs.

 

Life along the banks never quit being fascinating to me.

 

Having to catch a fish to survive would be very stressful for me.

 

It rained on and off during the day . . . but the fishermen kept on fishing.

 

Almost everyone we saw out in the backwaters were men . . . with these two exceptions.

 

Part of our marvelous, and tasty, lunch.

 

The scenes here were timeless . . . like something out of a bygone era . . .

 

Yes, 2012, not 1912 . . .

 

Some scenes seem to lend themselves to black and white/sepia.

 

Kerala backwater canal maintenance workmen, circa 2012.

 

A nice old launch.

 

What a wonderful world.

 

As evening drew near on the second day, the backwaters opened out into an immense shallows . . .

 

. . . . and many fishermen sprinkled themselves about tending their nets.

 

Our houseboat crew at work in the late afternoon.

 

I the rainy evening we steered into a small canal and tied up in a small village, like many other houseboats.

 

After the sun set a number of "party boats" cruised up and down the canal, reminding us of how close we must be to a large population center.

 

We spent a very serene night moored in the backwater canal of Kerala.

 

I woke early the next morning to stroll around the small canalside village.

 

There was a small Hindu temple in the village and it seemed people had dressed in their finery to attend some kind of special event there.

 

The colors in the clothing was devine.

 

After breakfast we motored back out into the open water where I saw this giant houseboat with five bedrooms . . .what a fun party that could be!

 

Breakfast.

 

In the last morning we went back up the canal to where we started our journey.  This is our crew and the manager of the houseboat company (on left).  We had a great three days puttering out and about the inland backwaters.

 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part Three: Delhi

We made it to Delhi after the sun had set and took along ride in an old Ambassador taxi to our hotel on this street.  Oh My, What Have We Done?!!!  You can see our hotel in the background, The Hotel le Roi.

 

This beautiful scene was just down the street from our hotel, the Hotel LeRoi, in Delhi.

 

I was fascinated by the street right out in front of our hotel.  The Delhi Night Street.

 

The street life, the street characters, bathed in the yellowish mercury vapor lights, created a dream world filled with all the stations and predicaments of life . .  like a living Ramanaya.

 

The Delhi street is dusty, noisy, and smelly . . . with the ubiquitous tuktuk responsible for most of it!

 

The cold lassi looked inviting . . . but . . .

 

. . . I decided on a couple of local Indian oranges from the fruit stand on the left instead.

 

I walked up and down this street a dozen times in the four days I was in Delhi and never tired of looking and seeing.

 

The mercury vapor street lights varied quite a it in their color tone; some were very bright and yellow, and some were more reddish, like in this scene of a samlor driver night eatery.

 

The Hotel le Roi was just down the street to a warehouse that employed porters late in the night to carry sacks of flour out to waiting trucks.  There were always many men sitting on the curb hoping to get some hourly income.

 

This Delhi night workman gestured to me to take his photo.

 

I wasn't sure if this was a ladder shop or if there was going to be some high construction nearby.

 

All dressed up . . .

 

This samlor driver sat in this pose for a very long time, lost in time.

 

When it got very late, many people pulled out their stashed bed rolls and went to sleep on the sidewalks . . . mainly under the brightest lights they could fin.

 

Bud and I woke up early, had a pretty good breakfast buffet at the Hotel le Roi, and headed out to see if we could find famous The Red Fort . . . on foot.  Armed with a pretty good hotel provided map, we set off for a long walk in the Old Delhi streets.  Oh, the things we would see!

 

My, my, my . . . . what streets they were!  With so many millions living in Delhi, the need for delivery transportation is great.  To see ox carts in the middle of a city is something fantastic.

 

Some loads you are unlucky as a cycle drayman . . . you need a little help from a freind . . . .

 

. . . and some loads you get lucky and have to only haul pillow stuffing.

 

But mostly the loads were heavy.  This looks like a hard life . . . one where you would aks a lot of questions about the nature of existence . . . .

 

I don't know why a tri-shaw mattress delivery person on the side streets of Old Delhi strikes me as humorous.  Pure Novelty?

 

. . . . which is the work of these good fellows, the Sadhus.

 

I asked with a gesture to my camera if I could make a portrait of these Sadhus and they all nodded their acquiescence.

 

These Sadhu portraits were taken in a temple not far from our hotel.

 

What's on his mind, I do not know . . . he may have transcended it.

 

There is the question of volition: "What to do?"  I have a pair of shoes just like his.

 

Magnificent affect . . . or, perhaps, affective magnificence.

 

There were holy men sitting around everywhere in this temple . . . I wondered how, and why, they decide on wearing what they are wearing.

 

These two holy men were studying.

 

This holy man appeared very self-satisfied, that is, if he had a self.

 

I liked this guy . . . and thought of sitting down for a conversion about, you know, everything.

 

We left the temple and headed up and over a train viaduct where we found this man using the bridge railings to dry white string.  It seems every single space had been exploited for some human activity.

 

I could not tell if this guy was a holy man or not.  He sat in the shade with a pan out in front of him filled with snacks.  He was a snackage merchandiser . . . maybe recently a Sadhu . . . who knows.   There is a question of volition.

 

Bud and I walked many huours n the small  back streets of Old Delhi looking for the Red Fort.  After a while it did not really matter if we ever found it . . .

 

. . . there were so many interesting things to see and contemplate.

 

Every single square meter has been figured out long ago in Delhi.  The small space between the doorway and the mobile phone shop has been filled with a small altar . . . complete with two women attendants.

 

The shoe repairman's buddy stopped in for a chat.  I had a warm feeling about the Indians living life out in the civic space.

 

This vegetable hawker was sorting potatoes while clutching his iPhone against his shoulder . . . Deli folk were far from disconnected.

 

I stopped to take a photo of the wonderful blue door . . . just as a dray cart full of cement passed in front.

 

The doors in this part of Delhi were superb: old, unkempt, and with their histories still intact.

 

The narrow alleyways were full of these touching architectural scenes.

 

Holy men would occasionally pass us by in the small streets.

 

Along one narrow street, no wider than two meters, a man had converted his home into a temple to Sai Baba, RIP.

 

The Sai Baba temple keeper asked that I take his photograph.

 

The Sai Baba temple effigy.

 

The alleys of Old Delhi are winding and lined with doors and passageways.  Doors seem to me to tell a mysterious story about the interiors behind them, like a human face.

 

This door, these stairs, where do they lead?

 

A small shop in the depths of Old Delhi . . . where a child grows up beneath colorful balls.

 

A vender of everything deep fried to a golden brown.

 

Another Old Delhi alley shop sold these, uh . . . . . you tell me!

 

An endless number of doors.  Somewhere I have a book titled The Doors of Florence, Italy.  A book of Old Delhi doors would be equally fascinating, and just as beautiful.

 

Old Delhi windows are not too shabby either . . . I mean they are shabby . . . and wonderful.

 

A history of volition writ in wood.

 

The look of the place:  a Delhi intersection.

 

The look of the place.

 

Bud and I walked up this street.

 

Old Delhi felt to me like a city that had been abandoned for centuries and then reinhabited, rather that a place that is undergoing current decay.

 

Perhaps a remnant of a lost civilization, dug up, cleaned off, and new paint applied?

 

I began to notice that in behind all the carts and merchant's tables was an ancient city, full of fabulous architectural detail.

 

This Grand Entry, hidden in plain view, drew my attention.  I stopped in for a chat . . .

 

. . . and met the great-grandson of this remarkable building's builder, whose visage was left in stone at the entry. 

 

Delhi maters.

 

Mother and son shopping.

 

With so many religions and sects in Delhi, we figured that there had  to be some kid of holy day almost every day . . . we hoped that would explain these painted goats . . .

 

. . . and these boys riding backwards on a spotted camel.  We ran into these knuckleheads a couple of times in the Red Fort neighborhood . . . hooting it up!

 

The shops immediately around the Red Fort were primarily auto and truck parts related.  This red-bearded vendor specialized in springs . . . and springs . . .

 

. . . and springs.

 

Whiling the hot afternoon hours away in the Red Fort guardhouse.

 

One side of The Red Fort was lined with used auto parts shops.

 

A well-dressed tasseled string vendor perched on a Vespa seat talking on his mobile phone.

 

This fellow was either preaching something the folks around there had heard already, or he was a ranter.  Nobody paid him any attention  . . . except me.

 

We eventually found the Red Fort . . .

 

. . . but The Red Fort was closed to non-Muslims for two hours.  We contemplated coming back.

 

The Red Fort is a magnificent structure.  It was a shame we could not get inside.

 

Women were also not let in The Red Fort and instead sat on the steps.

 

The view from the Red Fort looking into the chaos of Old Delhi.

 

After grumbling about the closed Red Fort, we decided to walk a 360 around the structure and come back . . . so we headed back out into The Delhi Street.

 

There was an Muslim market along one side of The Red Fort and Bud and I walked in for a look.

 

Meeting your textile needs since 1953.

 

Islamic people are very generous.  We saw the local merchants give this street schizophrenic food.

 

City goats have a different diet than country goats.

 

Aerating the hot lasse.

 

A brassware merchant, no doubt taking the early shift for his father.

 

Of course I found some fantastic windows . . . .

 

. . . . and aged doors.

 

I thought this was a photogenic alley . . . then took a second look and realized the warehouse on the right had wonderful architectural decor in the form of panels . . . that would make great "wall portraits"!

 

Each of the loading doors on the Old Delhi warehouse were different . . .

 

. . . different sizes, patterns, and styles . . .

 

. . . and all of them were interesting and beautiful.

 

A perfect old door and dray cart portrait.

 

A nice place to set up your shoe shine business.  All of these photos were taken within 30 meters of each other. 

 

Bud and I decided not to go back to The Red Fort but instead dove back in to the narrow alley/streets of Old Delhi.

 

These alleys are no more than one meter wide, but filled with mystery anad wonder.  Where do these doors lead?

 

I as soooo tempted to go in and take a look around . . . .

 

Wonderful surfaces. beautiful lines, perfect light . . . .

 

If you are ever in Old Delhi do not miss these small back alleys . . . the architectural features are stunning.

 

We took this shortcut back to the hotel . . . and did NOT get lost.

 

Our shortcut lead us here, just in time for me to shoot one of my favorite subjects; The Drayman and his cart.

 

Just before we reached the fabulous Le Roi Hotel, I spotted this baby on the street, her mother nearby selling flowers.  What a place to be born into . . . along with the other billion Indians across the sub-continent. Human Life.

 

I stopped in here and bught one of thsee hanging lamps.  Nice.

 

A street henna artist plying his trade.

 

I debated about buying some of these spices to bring back to Bangkok, but decided not to, even though the merchant said he had once lived in Thailand.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part Four:  The Indian Grand Prix F1 Race

 

We arrived at the Buddh International Curcuit after a one hour adventure on a train and in a taxi.  We had to go to a really strange industrial park about ten kilometers from the track to redeem our electronic ticket vouchers.  There were many Europeans there as well.  All good fun and head shaking.

 

The usual prohibitions in our modern world, but with friendly reminder . . . they have no storage for any of the prohibited item.  How helpful.

 

Although we had been in the remoter parts of India, and deep in the small streets of Old Delhi, we were reminded that this event was at the center of a huge global market.

 

Of course, with so much of the world's attention on the race, and all the glamour that surrounds, it brought out the race girls!

 

We took our seats in the very plush, and well maintained, Turn 10/11 "Big Bend" -- a pretty good place to watch Qualifying on Saturday.

 

A Formula One race is actually several races . . . we got there just in time to see a Formula Renault race, incidentally, won by the lone American in the field.  Will there be an American F1 driver in the future?

 

These preliminary races are actually the "development league" for future F1 drivers . . . so these young guys have a lot to prove.  They are trying to "win a seat" in a bigger tam in a faster formula that, they hope, will bring them to F1 one day.  The racing was tight and the drivers aggressive.

 

After the preliminary classrace ended the Safety Car, a roaring big V8 Mercedes, made a few laps to see if it was safe for the F1 carrs to begin Q1. We were in for a treat!

 

Sebastian Vettel Q1.

 

The very popular Force India during Q2.

 

We had very good seats -- at the big swooping bend (turns 11 & 12).  Here is Kimi in the kitty litter during Q3.

 

We had a good view of the cars coming and going for quite a distance.  Here Alonso is chasing Schumi during qualifying on Saturday (Kimi's spin debris is seen on the track in the foreground).

 

Vettel coming up the hill to the big bend.

 

Vettel turns in to turn 10.

 

Vettel was by far the smoothest driver through these turns.  He was the only driver able to keep his foot in the throttle through turn 12.

 

The big bend of turns 11 and 12 was very tricky for many drivers.  Team Marussia on the run-out.

 

Mark Webber entering turn 10 at speed.

 

This is, no doubt, the last I will see of the great Michael Schumacher.

 

Massa negotiating turn 11.

 

Lewis Hamilton coming . . . .

 

. . . and going on a qualifying run.

 

Massa was looking very strong in India.

 

Schumi's racer was set up so low, the front wing was dragging and throwing sparks.

 

I only brought my Canon 5D Mark II camera on Saturday for Qualifying, and it was a good thing:  the air quality was so bad at the track you could barely see the race cars more than a half kilometer away. I did have a little movie camera that takes stills, so I got this photo at the track of the last Indian sundown.  We would take a bus 20 kilometers to a train station, and then 30 minutes in a very crowed rail car with happy, and talkative race fans.  We ate a delicious dinner, showered, and took a taxi to the airport, and said good-bye to a great week in India.

I was sitting inside watching golf on the television when it dawned on me, "Why am I sitting inside watching golf on the television?" I have been noticing a wasp's hole near where I park every day and have been saying to myself, "Self, you should mount that excellent Sigma 70mm macro lens on your camera and see if you can't capture that dangerous rascal one of these days."  I have been saying that for weeks . . . so . . . no time like the present.

 

Taking a photo of wasps is not a very smart thing to do, really.  You are so scared of getting stung that most of your shots are blurred because of the shaking camera.  In addition, wasps are shy creatures:  I waited way too long in scorching heat and melting humidity and all I got was this this little guy peeping out of his wasp hole at me for 15 minutes.  Oh well . . . . there's plenty more in the garden to look at this beautiful morning.

 

There had been a heavy rain last night (like EVERY night for the past two weeks), and there was still a lot of moisture on everything . . .

 

It's fun walking around in the garden with a macro lens!  My Sigma DG 70mm f2.8 Macro lens is about as good as it gets for this kind of close-up work.

 

A very tiny world magnified inside this single drop!

 

The light was clear and very low . . . and passed through these red fronds.  The dew drops were on the back side of these!  Amazing!

 

Deep in the undergrowth . . . little gems.

 

There was so much to see this morning!  I lost my breath when I saw this.

 

Deep down at the bottom of the garden little magnifying lenses point out additional detail.  Wonderful.

 

A single dew drop crowns this magnificent red bud-with-a-flowing-bud.

 

It didn't take long for the sun to dry off the dew from these red flowers.  It was 90+ degrees and humidity 90%+ as well.

 

The rains blew a lot of leaves off the trees . . . at first I thought it looked messy . . . but then I looked closer!

 

I love the sparkle of this pink leaf.

 

A sensuous palm frond, vaguely human.

 

With all the rain we have been having over the past several months, everything is growing like crazy.

 

Not only is everything growing like crazy, it is growing everywhere!  The variety of plant life growing on this garden path stone is incredible.

 

An old dead tree stump had new lichens growing on it.  WOW! What planet did this come from?

 

Another strange lichen.  I wish I had some extension tubes for my macro set-up . . . guess I'll go to the camera shop this afternoon!

 

This is about the maximum magnification I can get without an extension tube on my macro lens.  This is at 100%, no crop.

 

Our star fruit (Carambola) tree is starting to drop fruit.  Pretty tasty, but a strange texture . . . .

 

Snail Love . . . . mating at the bottom of the garden!

 

Oh!  So that's where the Chinese stone garden lantern went!

 

I noticed this flowing  thorn bush before I went into the house . . . and noticed that I hadn't noticed how beautiful the stalks were!

Back at my favorite blues club, Saxophone, at Victory Monument Circle, Bangkok. I had a good time with my old students (from 15 years ago!), Mark and Eddie.

JULY 20, 2012 - EASTERN WASHINGTON STATE

We arrived in Spokane, Washington very late in the afternoon, checked into our just OK hotel, and walked about the downtown area.  I didn't bring my camera . . . I was tired.  We awoke the next morning early for the long drive across Eastern Washington and a rendezvous with Levenworth, Washington, and a good night's sleep.

 

We avoided the Interstate highway and took State Highway 2 west out of Spokane through the magnificent rolling farm land.

 

The scenery and colors were fantastic.  An early dew left the wheat feilds a bright yellow!

 

Washington Highway 2 was straight as an arrow, but up and down over the rolling landscape.

 

We stopped often to take in the spaciousness.

 

I love this photo . . . and so did a lot of other people on the 500px photo sharing site.  I won a "Popular" award there!

 

The further East we drove on Highway 2, the dryer the countryside became.

 

We arrived in the rain shadow of the great Cascade Mountains which split Washington into two distinct climactic regions: wet in the West and dry in the East.

 

We turned off of Highway 2 and onto Highway 17 toward Grand Coulee Dam.  After a few miles we started to get glimpses of Franklin Delano Roosevelt Lake.

 

Looking down into a small inlet on FDR Lake.  I wonder how that fisherman is doing?

 

When we finally got a view of the Grand Coulee Dam we had no idea what was in store for us.

 

These giant skimmers kept errant fishermen from going over the spillways of Grand Coulee Dam. We stopped in the little town of Grand Coulee to have an excellent Mexican lunch before rounding the bend to see the actual dam itself.

 

Grand Coulee Dam!  The largest electricity producing facility in the United States.  Built in 1933, it is still one of the largest concrete structures in the world.  What a sight.

 

The power of the water pouring over the dam was immense!  Imagine the power going through the turbines!

 

A third power station was added to the dam in 1974.  These huge power transmission lines were just humming with energy.

 

Standing in the roar of the Grand Coulee Dam, you become transfixed by the powerful movement of the water over the immense structure. There are great photo opportunities here.  I must have taken a hundred photos . . . of the same thing!

 

The power of water.

 

I hated to leave the Grand Coulee Dam.  I enjoyed the tranfixation!

 

We came across what must have been the remains of some old "creative weather vane" contest on the outskirts of the town of Grand Coulee.

 

There were about 50 different weather vanes . . . they just put a tall fence around the collection . . . . I guess just to see what time and weather would do to them . . . or this is a Federally Funded Durability Test?

 

Eastern Washington geology is very rich and diverse.

 

Beautiful layers from successive volcanic eruptions are everywhere.

 

Banks Lake is an interesting curiosity:  it is a manmade lake created from the ancient, and abandoned, river bed of the Columbia River.

 

The ancient Columbia River cut this deep canyon, then shifted itself in another direction.  The construction of the Grand Coulee Dam meant this old section of the river could be dammed as well, and then filled.

 

Lovely geological layers chronicling the passing of the eons.

 

Here and there in the Eastern Washington scabland we found wetlands full of migrating birds . .  but no time to linger  . . . .  This is beautiful country.

 

The roadside flora was varied, colorful, and generally dry at this time of year.

 

Damp, aromatic sage.

 

The dry ancient Columbia River valley.

 

We made our way back to Highway 2 and headed west toward the foothills of the Cascades.  The topography was changing again: a little less dry, and the appearance of wheat fields.

 

An old abandoned school house on the Washington prairie. 

 

There were very few towns along Highway two.  Douglas, Washington was the exception.  Too bad it's General Store was closed.

 

Douglass had everything a small town could want, although this roadside scene seemed to have been arranged for the benefit of passing photographers like me.

 

This old homestead had long since been abandoned . . . . it stopped me in my tracks.  I spent about 20 minutes exploring it's surfaces and shadows.  Remarkable.

 

The flat light was a blessing for shooting such fantastically textured surfaces.

 

Archetypal dilapidation . . . my favorite subject.

 

The detail was captivating on these old catawampus farm structures.

 

They were a wonderful ensemble of shapes against a wide flat horizon.  Wow.

 

The old farmer did not waste anything before he gave up: this hinge replacement attests to that!

 

I may print and frame some of these . . . .

 

Back out on the road in Douglas County, Washington heading toward Winatchee and the promise of fresh fruit.

 

We discovered this old garage in Waterville, a wide spot on Highway 2, that served as the County Seat of Douglas County.  The patina of age had not been lost to this place.

 

We dropped back down into the Columbia River Valley just east of the Cascades and the fruit producing region of Wenatchee, Washington (the largest sweet cherry exporting region in the world!).  This was such a sweet sign.

 

We stopped for the port-a-potty and discovered cherries and apricots.

 

Why must there always an outhouse poet?

 

Early green apples and late apricots.

 

Winatchee nectarines.

Winatchee apricots.

World famous Winatchee sweet cherries.  We bought a few pounds of these.

 

Lots of photogenic fruit to be had.

 

The fruit crates were all neatly stacked ready to be filled with freshly picked fruit.

 

These fruit crates were extremely sought after when I was younger: they were perfect for holding your vinyl LP record collection.

 

A highlight of any road trip are them many stops at the various fruit stands.  Good car food, for sure.

 

Our stopped for the night in the faux German tourist town of Leavensworth, Washington.  "A little bit of old Bavaria in the Washington Cascades."  Very little.

 

There are a number of these false European towns in the USA: Solvang and Idyllwild in California come to mind.  In fact, Leavensworth is based on Solvang as a "town saving project" after the lumber mills closed.

 

As we all know, every German village has a Danish bakery.

 

I do have to admit that the local mini-golf made good use of green gardening practices in it's course maintenance.

 

We checked into our German-themed motel and asked the iPhone 4S Siri where a good restaurant might be found hereabouts..  She prioritized the local eateries and we went to the number one recommendation . . . which turned out to be a Bavarian-themed sausage stand with a wide array of mustard options.

 

I enjoyed another fine example of the American National Dish, the hot dog, with gusto.

 

As the sun set over the Traditional German Village Totem Pole (TGVTP), we headed back to our room . . . we had a long drive the next day.

 

Driving over the Washington Cascades did not disappoint: it was rainy and dreary . . .  just as I remembered it!

 

Eventually we encountered a huge thunder storm on this road, just at the twistiest part . . . .

 

This is the one thing I miss about America: the Pacific Northwest mountains.  Bangkok is just too flat!

 

WHIDBEY ISLAND: July 21-22, 2012

After stopping off to spend the afternoon at a suburban Seattle outlet mall, we made it to the Race Track Road ferry terminal for Whidbey Island.  There  was a very long line, so I had  time to walk around and take some nice nautical photographs around the ferry docks.

 

The old lighthouse, with the approaching ferry, was very picturesque.

 

Although the day was ending, there was some very interesting light available from a fascinating sunset.

 

We eventually boarded the ferry, where I had another good vantage point to photograph the docks area.  The sunsets and dusk hours last a very long time this far north.

 

The old lighthouse as seen from the Whidbey Island Ferry.

 

Looking East from the ferry, the sky became darker and darker as we set off from the pier.

 

Once departed, I roamed the car deck for some shots.

 

I hadn't realized it, but there were two ferries that make the trip to and from Whidbey Island.  The two ferries crossed in the middle of the sound.  Fantastic to see my sister ferry across the water . . . .

 

The Pacific Northwest is famous for it's gloomy weather, but, my-oh-my, what a beautiful mood this late evening had!

 

Approaching the Whidbey Island shore.

 

We arrived at our friend's house just in time to see a colorful sunset develop.

 

The last of an amazing sunset over Puget Sound.

 

We awoke the next morning to the same view in daylight . . . equally beautiful.

 

Our friends from Bangkok have retired in this beautiful place.

 

There is a distinct Pacific Northwest style that I miss very much.

 

Their cedar shake siding made me VERY homesick.  I am an Oregonian, and love the wet weather and the ferns of this part of the planet.

 

Our friends were very welcoming, hospitable, and generous.

 

It was a beautiful morning to go out and take photographs of the garden.

 

These red poppies provided an interesting subject for a study in composition . . .

 

. . . moving in and out on the flower and buds . . . .

 

. . . . made for different, but equally interesting shots.

 

A spider between the poppy pods.

 

In the late morning we took a "Sunday Drive" on Whidbey Island.  We stopped off at their Saturday Market.  I was able to indulge my global obsession with peddlar's street carts.

 

Saturday "Farmer" Markets are popular in the Pacific Northwest.  This one was like a little country fair with lots of music, food, and flowers.  The kids loved it.

 

Playiing beautiful Rennaisance sonatas, theis young band was very good. The next Allison Krauss?

 

The flower vendors had some wonderful surprises . . . like these purple puffs . . .

 

. . . and orange Poppies . . .

 

. . . lots of orange poppies!

 

There were many vendors at the Saturday Market.  This guy made and sold very unique travel trailers . . . all cedar inside too.  Cute.

 

After the Saturday market we went to one of the small villages on the island for lunch and to walk around and soak up the atmosphere.  Very pleasant.

 

It was a [rare] sunny day on Puget Sound and lots of people were out on the water.

 

Pacific Northwsterners are very outdoorsey.

 

The village was very sweet, with many blooming flowers everywhere.

 

I have no idea what kind of flower this is, but it was growing in deep shade.

 

Now THIS is the way to see Whidbey Island!!!

 

Maretime views are always changing.

 

View from the cliffs.

 

In the late afternoon we took the steep steps down to the shore.

 

The Pacific Northwest is covered by dense forests.  When big storms come in the winter, the old logs, snags, are washed out to sea and then deposited on the beaches.

 

Silver driftwood under a Northwest summer sun.

 

Is this the lost log from the TV series, Twin Peaks, washed ashore?

 

I made several Driftwood Portraits (#1) while on the beach.  I really appreciate these weathered shapes.  The silvery surfaces tinged with the orange light of sunset . . . too beautiful.

 

Driftwood Portrait #2.

 

Driftwood Portrait #3.  The burl on this piece of driftwood was magical in form and texture.

 

On the walk back up the stairs to the top of the bluff, I spotted this lovely new leaf.

 

We settled in around the B-B-Q and watched the many cruise ships departing Seattle for the inside passage along the British Columbia coast to Alaska . . . and waited for the sunset over the Olympic Mountains.

 

There was a fantastic orange sunset, actually, a double sunset . . . . but not over the Olympic Mountains . . . for that I had to look south.  Enjoy the progression of this amazing scene across Puget Sound!

 

Last light on Puget Sound.  What a sunset!

 

We woke early and drove down to the ferry landing . . . there were only a few cars waiting on this cool and cloudy July morning.

 

A few gulls were squawking here and there under the pier . . . .

 

. . . and up on the power lines.

 

The ferry arrived and we drove on.  Time for a swanky hotel in downtown Seattle to prepare for our long journey back to Thailand.

 

We had a very nice stay on Whidbey island and were sorry to see it fade into the distance.

 

SEATTLE 09/22/2012

We stayed right downtown in Seattle.  It's a very nice city to walk around in.

 

Just around the corner from our hotel was a flower shop with this Thai Buddha in the window . . . it made me soooooo homesick for Thailand!  I was ready to go home.

 

Seattle is a very multicultural city . . . that is one of the reasons it is such a special city . . . and a great place to live.

 

I do not know what unemployment is like in Seattle, but ther were a lot of people working on restoring old buildings downtown.  Seattle never looked better.

 

Seattle is a port city, so all east-west streets lead down to Puget Sound.

 

There was some kind of celebration going on down by the waterfront.

 

I walked the few blocks from the hotel to famous Pike Place Market.

 

The very famous Pike Place Market sign.

 

The area around the Pike Place Market is very pleasant; lots of nice eateries, shops, and the original Starbucks #1.

 

It was a beautiful summer day in Seattle (a somewhat rare occurance here) and people were sitting outside on the cafe balconies.

 

But it is the Pike Place Market interior that is so fascinating to visitors.

 

It was a Sunday the the isles were very crowded . .. but people are nice in Seattle.

 

I love the old fashioned neon signage.  Very picturesque.

 

There are several floors of shops and market stalls . . .

 

. . . these open air fruit markets are ubiquitous in Asia where I live, but they are a novelty in America.  There should be more of these in The States.

 

I took a shortcut through the famous Post Alley, where the famous Seattle hipsters purchase their uber cool clothing, to rendezvous with my wife for lunch at out favorite restaurant.

 

Seattle is a famous restaurant town . . . for good reason.

 

I rounded a corner and looked down the hill to the Sound and saw this fire boar in full water plumage!  I asked some bystanders what was up and they said it was to honor President Obama who was just then at the Pike Place Market!  I missed him by ten minutes. 

 

We had our "Good Bye America" lunch at our favorite Seattle restaurent (Greek):  Lola, on the corner of 4th and Virginia.

 

All good things must come to an end:  we boarded our very long EVA flight back home to Bangkok, Thailand via . . .

 

The very nice Taipei, Taiwan airport.  Our 14 hour flight from Seattle is always the first flight to arrive in Taipei . . . 5:00am . . . even before the duty free shops are open.  It is very strange to walk around in an empty, and quiet, airport.

MONTANA HIGHWAYS (07/18/12)

Yellowstone National Park is in Wyoming, but it abuts Montana, specifically, the town of West Yellowstone.  The Yellowstone t-shirts and Yellowstone bumper stickers are about 60% less expensive here.

 

INTERNET!  Oh No!  It's closed!  We had a nice organic sandwich at a nice hippie establishment before we headed out of town and up the road . . . gotta make Butte by nightfall.

 

The countryside outside the National Park is every bit as beautiful.

 

Such beautiful scenery is unforgettable.

 

I want a cabin right here!

 

The drive from Yellowstone to Butte, Montana is a couple of hundred miles, but it is never boring.  The topography is constantly changing.

 

Stunning views of open range land and big, wide open spaces . . . and that sky!

 

. . . that huge, dramatic sky!

 

I couldn't help myself . . . these ARE Ansel Adams skies.

 

We saw the "Strawberry Pie" sign in the window of the Ennis Cafe and immediately pulled over.  That thunder storm finally caught us.

 

Although seemingly not a perfect day for photography . . . there was a certain mood about the landscape . . . still and dark . . . with a gigantic thunderhead looming . . .

 

Double thunder storms (binary system?).  Those clouds above were roiling.

 

Clouds are gigantic structures in our world that we do not pay enough attention to . . .  these heavily water saturated clouds seemed suited to a black & white study.

 

Montana sky and prairie.

 

Old farm houses were sparsely distributed around the landscape.  I love these old weathered surfaces . . . anywhere in the world I find them.

 

As the old saying goes, "It's not in the middle of nowhere, but you can see it from there" certainly fit this magical spot on our home planet.

 

Saw these big rolls of hay and had to stop. 

 

Nice textures, shapes, and shadows.

 

Montana is a big, beautiful place.

 

Moving on down the ever-changing Montana highways.

 

BUTTE, MONTANA: A GHOST TOWN IN THE MAKING

Butte, Montana, once the "Richest City In The World" in the 1880s, but not any more.  It was the largest city west of the Mississippi river, but not any more.

 

The wealth of the mine, shich sits right next to the city (and underneath it!) financed wonderful archecture and city planning.

 

The Golden Era of Butte was between the 1880s and 1917, when copper production began to decline.  There is an excellent documentary, Butte, America, worth seeing.

 

I wish I had made more time for Butte on this vacation.  I could have spent days in this amazingly photogenic old city.

 

The Silver Dollar Saloon, Butte, Montana, USA.  I do not know what the slogan on the sign refers to . . . .

 

. . . but the saloon had a wonerderful old sign.

 

There remains many references to the large Chinese population the American West once held.  The Chinese were brought to America to build the railroads and dig the mines.  The saga of the Chinese workers in Butte, Montana is a very sad story of exploitation, exclusion, and discrimination.

 

Butte noodle parlors . . . over 100 years old.

 

There must have been a very large Chinese population here at one time.  These old noodle merchant buildings now house a fine museum dedicated to the history of Asians in the Western USA.

 

I had to accept the light before me . . . if I were to spend some time here I would know where to be with my camera at the "right" time of day . . . still . . .

 

. . . even with the harsh light, there was much to appreciate.  "Old Space" is my favorite subject matter: something made, a space defined (positive or negative space) and never touched, or repaired, or maintained for long periods of time.

 

Somewhere, in Butte, Montana, an artist moves in the shadows.

 

Sometimes, Time itself is a maker of Art.  High altitude, deep blue sky, clear air that does not refract light, and a polarizing filter can create some interesting effects, like this black sky.

 

I do not know if I will ever return to Butte . . . . but I will remember it's strangely beautiful ambiance.

 

As we drove out of Butte, I stopped to take this photo of an old mine "Head Rig," a symbol of it's past glory, and it's present predicament.

 

We stopped for gas and lottery tickets an hour west of Butte.

 

A summer Montana alfalfa field.  One can only wonder how deep the snow is here in the winter!

 

I knew I should have employed the porcelain convenience at that Conoco station!  Oh well, an unscheduled stop brought the discovery of an old road bridge.

 

These one-way bridges bring back more childhood memories from my many moves across the country. Sometimes there would be a flagman, sometimes lights, and sometimes you had to just play chicken!

 

The water looked refreshing, but we had to move further on up the road.

 

Looking west, as millions have done before me.

 

Stopped for B-B-Q and noticed this sweet home.

 

The air was so clean and the light so perfect . . .

 

. . . I had to take these photos.  It's a shame these are not full frame, full-resolution photos.  I can literally count every single pine needle!

 

The world's largest dandelion puff . . . it was as large as my hand!

 

The National Fish Hatchery Museum is located at the site of America's first fish hatchery, established in 1889.  It was so clear and bright when I pulled the car over, but the ONLY cloud in the sky decided to make me wait 20 minutes before I could take this shot.  It was the last stop in Montana.

 

IDAHO: CUTTING ACROSS THE PANHANDLE (07/19/12)

Idaho.  We cut across the narrowest part of the state.

 

We dropped out of the Montana high country towards the big valley that starts with Coeur d'Alene and ends with the Washington Cascades.

 

We stopped only once in Idaho, in the old silver mining town of Wallace.

 

In 1890 Wallace was the most populated town in Idaho (population 2000), in 1910 it burned to the ground.

 

Today Wallace is a beautifully restored tourist town with a population of 784 (2010 census).

 

There was a lot of civic pride evident in Wallace . . .

 

. . . we arrived in the middle of the Wallace Chamber of Commerce's Annual Flintstone Days.  You do not see this kind of thing every day!

 

You needed a substantial bank building to hold all of that silver.

 

There is a total of about four square blocks in Wallace now, but we enjoyed walking around and sticking our heads in the quaint shops and fountains.

 

An old hardware store was converted into an antiques shop, but they kept the origional 100 year old hardware store fittings and furnishings as they were.  Nice.

 

The Wallace hardware/antique shop has a sumptuously welcoming interior.

 

I am very happy to report that no matter where in the world I go, no matter how large or small the town, there is always an artist. Wallace, Idaho painted cabinet.

 

I thought, as I always do, what it would be like to live in this sweet little town . . . .  but decided against it . . . . what would I DO?

 

Wallace had a fountain/old games parlor.  These old juke boxes were amazing, as were the old pin-ball machines.  The owner said they were were all in A-1  working order.  There was no way I was going to ship one of these gems to Bangkok!

 

The soda fountain in the front of the shop was a marvel, untouched from the 1920s.

 

I had a world class piece of home made apple pie and an excellent cafe latte. I have a feeling that they didn't serve cafe latte in the 1920s in Wallace, Idaho!

 

A business opportunity can be had in this recently refurbished historical building.  I LOVE the period art deco erectile signage!

 

Interstate 90 was calling, so we said good-bye to Idaho and a few hours later pulled into  .  .  . Spokane, Washington State.