Camera Antiqua

SEE THE PERMANENT “ALL MY CAMERAS” PAGE FOR A CONTINUOUSLY UPDATED RECORD OF MY CAMERAS OVER THE YEARS

December 12, 2009

While I’ve used cameras for years, only since my second trip to the Pacific Northwest in 2005 have I paid much attention to taking quality landscape photographs.  I’ve already documented the computers I’ve used over the years, and now will look back at the still-photograph cameras of my past.

My Dad’s Instamatic

I grew up with photographs, although they were always small snapshots.  My earliest experience with a snapshot camera was my parents’ Kodak Instamatic X-15 with its “126” film cartridges and rotating flash cube.  It shot a 26.5 mm square on-film image.  About 10 million cameras used that film format, but it is now extinct.

The camera was extremely simple to operate – you just looked through the viewfinder and pushed a lever.  If you thought you might need flash, you popped in a flash cube and it would explode one of its four bulbs, rotating for the next shot.  After taking a shot you had to shove a spring-loaded lever on its back a couple of times to advance the film.  Sometimes you forgot, and that created interesting double-exposed images.  Of course, you might not know that for weeks or months, depending on when you finally sent in the film to be developed – and we didn’t have one-hour photo processing back then.

My awful Polaroid camera

My own first camera was a bulky used Polaroid unit we had inherited.  It took dreadful pictures which literally stank – from the chemicals used for its instant pictures.  It was definitely not a case of instant gratification, however, as most of its output was sickly green shots with brown smears, and none were worth keeping or even looking at.  Some of my relatives loved taking Polaroids, but I never cared for them.

My first functional camera was a Kodak 110

I took a one-semester photography class in junior high, and for that occasion received my own Kodak Ektralite unit.  It took poor point-and-shoot pictures on “110” film cartridges, but at least it had a built-in flash instead of the rotating flashcubes.  Its pitiful 13 x 17 mm on-film images did not hold a candle to the fancy 35 mm single lens reflex camera they had at school.  But even when I used the school camera, my photography was utterly uninspired.

Our photography classroom had chalkboards on three walls, and the coach who taught the class often already had them filled with notes when we walked in.  I remember writing down the notes from one set of boards, rotating my seat to face another wall and copy down more notes, and then rotating again to copy down the third wall of notes.  The only real fun was when we’d get our turn to work in the dark room with the chemical baths and enlarger.  So at least we got to develop contact sheets and some black-and-white prints.  Our end-of-year project was an 8×10 print, and my choice to shoot a garbage can in the school corridor was a mixture of rebellion and apathy.

I took the 110 with me on a trip to Washington, DC in 1984, and afterward noticed how awful its prints looked.  So I bought a cheap 35 mm point-and-shoot to replace it.  The new camera did much better on vacations, and I did manage to take one great photograph with it, of wildflowers in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge near Lawton.  But now I can’t even recall what brand of camera it was.  I used it sparingly for about a decade of vacation snapshots.

My last film camera, the Canon Elph APS

The late 1990s brought my last, and by far my favorite, film camera.  My original Canon Elph was an APS point-and-shoot camera with a 24-48 mm zoom lens.  APS stood for Advanced Photo System and meant you had a convenient 35 mm cartridge.  The APS let you rewind a roll mid-way through using it if you liked, and you could glance at a roll’s indicator to see if it was fresh, partially shot, or expended.  You could shoot in three different aspect ratios up to a 30.2 × 16.7 mm on-film image, and your prints came with contact sheets and an intact cartridge which made storage easy and allowed for convenient reprocessing for enlargements and duplications.

All of that in a camera the size of a package of cigarettes was pretty amazing at the time, and the Elph was in its day the world’s smallest autofocus zoom camera.  But APS never caught on and it was rapidly made obsolete by the digital revolution.  The most significant use of this camera was my first trip to the Pacific Northwest back in 1998, and the panoramic prints from that trip still look great today, although I haven’t bothered to scan any onto Flickr.

My first digital camera was the Nikon Coolpix 990

In 2000 I made the transition to digital photography with my most expensive camera ever, the $1,000 Nikon CoolPix 990.  Huge by today’s standards, it is split down the middle with a swivel lens.  The 3.1-megapixel camera takes 2048 x 1536 images and has a 3x optical zoom.  It also shoots 320 x 240 movies, although I hardly ever used that mode.  The camera used 64 MB Compact Flash cards for storage, which at the time cost $250 each!

I took far more pictures on the Nikon than on any other camera, ever, because I used it to create the now-retired Building on Excellence website that fully documented a series of construction projects at my workplace.  The camera still works, but I haven’t had occasion to use it in years.

My wonderful little Canon Elph SD300

It was superseded in 2005 by the tiny Canon Powershot Elph SD300, a $350 4-megapixel unit that takes 2272 x 1704 images and has a 3x optical zoom.  It also shoots quite acceptable 640 x 480 videos.  This camera was my delightful little companion on four summer trips to the Pacific Northwest and a slew of day hikes this autumn.

Thinking I might shoot some longer videos, last year I bought a cheap Flip video camcorder, but was singularly unimpressed by its output.  I’ve only used it a couple of times, and consider its abilities to be almost as poor as the camera in my iPhone 3G.  That fixed-focus camera has grainy, off-color, and blurry output.  It’s just a nasty little thing, which none of the many camera and photo applications I’ve downloaded can really help much.  But it does allow you to instantly upload a photo to the cloud, which is fun.

My latest camera is the DMC-ZS3

Last month I replaced the tiny Elph SD300 with my new Panasonic Lumix DMC-ZS3, a $280 10.1-megapixel unit that takes 3648 x 2736 images and has an amazing 12x optical zoom.  It can also shoot 1280 x 720 video, and has image stabilization, panorama assist, and other neat features.  I’m amazed by how much more powerful, yet far smaller and cheaper, this camera is when compared to the Coolpix 990.

My next digital camera will be whatever is built into my next iPhone, which I will likely purchase in the summer of 2010.  I’m sure it will be far better than the one in my iPhone 3G, but it certainly won’t compete with my Lumix superzoom.

Posted in photos, technology | 3 Comments

Spy Rock

My Autumn 2009 Day Hikes

Having recovered from a bout of sinusitis, two weeks of computer upgrades, and shopping on Black Friday, it was high time to head out for yet another day hike.  I’ve gone nuts this fall, taking one day hike after another across the region:

September 5: Beavers Bend
September 6: Cedar Lake and Robbers Cave
September 19: Oxley Nature Center
September 26: Lake Oologah, Foyil, Claremore, & Turkey Mountain
October 3: Roaring River
October 10: Turkey Mountain
October 17: Stinchcomb Wildlife Refuge
October 18: Walnut Creek & Skiatook Lake
October 24: White Rock Mountain
October 31: Oxley Nature Center & Red Bud Valley
November 1: Osage Hills
November 7: Big Sugar Creek & Tanyard Creek
November 28: Spy Rock

Spy Rock (click image for slideshow)

And that’s neglecting several walks of three to six miles along Bartlesville’s own Pathfinder Parkway. As you can see, the latest outing was to Spy Rock, a return to the Ozark National Forest in northwest Arkansas.  Spy Rock is roughly 12 miles due east of White Rock Mountain, where I hiked about a month ago.  This hike, the Redding Loop Trail with a side trip to Spy Rock, is not featured in my Hiking Arkansas book – I’d found it on Ouchitamaps.com instead.

I got up at 6 am and drove to the QuikTrip for a sausage-and-egg sandwich and to pick up a sandwich for lunch, since I knew today’s hike would take over four hours and I wouldn’t want to be hiking in the late afternoon, since the sun now sets well before 6 pm.  Then I launched back down US 75, the Muskogee Turnpike, and I-40 to the Ozarks.  No dirt roads this time – it was pavement all the way to the Redding Campground, parking next to the Mulberry River and starting my hike at 10:30 am.

After a pleasant stroll through the pine trees, the east side of the loop trail quickly ascended into a denuded deciduous forest to offer views of Bowden Hollow down below and the Spy Rock formation across the way.  Peering across the hollow at the projecting rocky spine, I knew that would be the perfect place for lunch.

On a forest road I passed by a hunter and once again thought how I might want to put an orange band around my Tilley hat for this kind of day hike.  Wildlife Management Areas attract hunters, of course, and I sometimes wonder if they think I’ll taste like chicken.  It was only late in the hike that I myself spotted any game – two white-tailed deer who bobbed away down near the campground.  I have no idea if they’re in season or not, but I did not try to shoot them with my Lumix camera.  During my entire hike, I would only encounter one other fellow besides the hunter: another solitary hiker whom I presume was coming down from Spy Rock.  I say that since he lacked the backpack one would associate with the nearby Ozark Highlands Trail, which wanders about 180 miles across northwest Arkansas.  I’ve never felt tempted to go on a true backpacking trip, although I did enjoy Bill Bryson’s hilarious A Walk in the Woods about the famous, and far longer, Appalachian Trail.  I’d much rather limit a hike to the daylight hours and follow it up with a nice restaurant meal and a cozy bed!

It was 3.8 miles from the campground out to the edge of Spy Rock, which afforded a nice panoramic view of the Bowden and Spy Rock hollows (shouldn’t it really be hollers?) down below.  I was delighted by how my new camera made it easy to properly line up a sequence of shots to stitch together later.  I was more than ready to sit down on the edge and enjoy my sandwich.  I passed a somewhat unhappy looking dead tree on my way back to the Loop Trail, and began to wonder if there would be anything interesting to see on my return trip to the campground.  There were some small rewards on the return: two tiny trickling waterfalls.  The trail ran right across the top of one, taking you across the thin lip of rock over which the water tumbled.

My sinusitis had kept me from aerobics for over a week, and I could feel the effects today from too little exercise.  From mile seven onward my feet truly ached in my boots and I was getting more clumsy, stumbling over the rocks hidden down amongst the leaves along the rocky trail.  So I was truly grateful when the pine trees returned, covering the trail in soft needles.  Back at the campground around 3 pm, I plopped down by the Mulberry River, briefly considering soaking my feet.  But I quickly decided that the water’s cold sting was not what I needed.  Instead, I zipped back to Tulsa for a delicious dinner at the Spaghetti Warehouse.

The weather will turn much colder soon, and this will be my last long trip this year for a day hike.  The greenery has retreated before winter’s approach, and after over thirty trails spread out over 14 days of hiking, I’m tired of long drives and will stay closer to home.  But I’m sure I’ll still find some time for the Pathfinder and Osage Hills – a good long walk is something I won’t pass up for too long.

Photo slideshow of today’s day hike

Posted in day hike, travel | Leave a comment

Windows 7 on my ASUS Netbook

paddewin7

PADDe Running Windows 7

Back in October 2008 I purchased an ASUS Eee PC 1000H netbook as my new portable computer.  I dubbed it PADDe, and have been delighted with this little marvel, taking it with me on my Oregon summer vacation and using it around the house and at some of my meetings.  I bought PADDe with a hard drive configured for Windows XP and later upgraded its RAM to its maximum of 2 gigabytes.  I love how light and portable it is and have been satisified with its battery life of over three hours on a charge.

The only drawbacks have been its 1024×600 screen, which I wish were the more standard 1024×768, and its reliance on a touchpad.  The diminished vertical resolution forces me to scroll web pages more than I’d like, and I prefer Pointing Sticks to touchpads.  I often resort to scrolling pages with the arrow keys since that works more reliably for me.

Some months back I bought Presto, a commercial version of the Xandros Linux package, for PADDe.  It provides a Linux boot alternative to Windows XP, allowing me to quickly boot up and access the web.  But I almost never use Presto since it is so simple to have the netbook “Hibernate” in Windows XP rather than shut down.  Hibernation, unlike Stand By mode, doesn’t use any battery power.  And it only takes seconds for the machine to wake up from its deep slumber.

Windows Vista could never run on the little netbook, since it only has a 1.6 GHz Intel Atom CPU (with a “Super” mode that overclocks it to 1.7 GHz).  But I’d read that Windows 7 ran just fine.  So I decided I would use one of the three licenses on my Windows 7 Home Premium Upgrade Family Pack to put the latest operating system on PADDe.

See below if you want all of the details of this hours-long effort, but the end result is that PADDe is now happily running Windows 7.  I love this new operating system and am delighted to now have it on both my desktop and my netbook.  Both machines are now in the same “Homegroup”, which is a simplified Windows 7 network.

ASUS Helps Out, to a Point

ASUS very kindly posted some instructions and the needed drivers for upgrading their 1000H netbooks to Windows 7 on its support site.  I painstakingly downloaded each driver (I wish they had just ZIPped them all up into one archive, but no such luck) and printed out the terse instructions.  They just said what to download and gave a brief sequence of driver installations I should trigger with those downloaded files.  But they did not say how you get Windows 7 onto a netbook that lacks a DVD drive.

Microsoft Helps Out, to a Point

I’ve successfully installed Microsoft Office and the Corel WordPerfect Suite onto PADDe by popping their installation DVDs into the drive on my desktop computer and then accessing them on PADDe through the wireless network.  But surely that wouldn’t work for installing an operating system – the network connection would be lost during the install.  But I’m a regular listener of Paul Thurrott and Leo Laporte’s Windows Weekly podcast, so I knew Paul Thurrott already had the answer.  You need to put an image of the Windows 7 installation DVD (called an ISO) on a bootable USB thumbdrive.  Microsoft offers Windows 7 online as an “ISO” download, and for awhile included a little utility for copying that image file onto a bootable USB thumb drive.  But they goofed on their little utility, creating a licensing problem that led them to yank it off their website, at least for now.  Reportedly they will release the source code for the utility to resolve the licensing issues and then I presume they’ll put it back up.  But I didn’t want to wait for that nebulous opportunity.  Thankfully CNET’s good old download.com still had a copy of the utility.

But I lacked an ISO image for the thumbdrive.  I already bought the Family Pack of Windows 7 on DVD, and I certainly didn’t want to buy yet another copy online to get the needed ISO image.  So, per Paul’s instructions, I downloaded the free utility ImgBurn and used it on my desktop computer to make an ISO image of the 32-bit version of the Windows 7 installation DVD.  Then I wiped out one of my eight-gigabyte thumbdrives, using Microsoft’s utility to turn it into a bootable Windows 7 installation device.

Using Two Thumbs

On a second eight-gigabyte thumbdrive, the amazing Verbatim Tuff ‘n’ Tiny drive, I copied all of the drivers I had downloaded from ASUS.  I then stuck both thumbdrives into PADDe while it was running Windows XP and navigated to the \support\migwiz folder on the one with the Windows 7 image.  There I ran Windows Easy Transfer, saving PADDe’s existing files and settings to the other “normal” thumbdrive.  I don’t have very much loaded onto PADDe, so it fit okay, but if that hadn’t worked I could have sent those items over the wireless network to the desktop for storage.  Now it was time for the big plunge – wiping out PADDe’s installation of Windows XP and moving up to 7.

My BIOS Mistake

ASUS said to use the built-in ASUS Update utility to install the latest BIOS on PADDe.  That’s a delicate operation – if you lose power during a BIOS installation you can “brick” your computer so that it won’t boot up, period.  So I yanked out the thumbdrives, made sure PADDe had plenty of battery life, and also plugged him into the AC outlet.  Then I ran the BIOS upgrade utility and thought I upgraded to the latest BIOS.  Later problems would reveal that I had not actually installed the latest version of the BIOS intended for Windows 7 compatibility.  But I didn’t realize that at the time.

Why Won’t You Boot?

After the new BIOS was installed and PADDe was booted back up into Windows XP, I reinserted the Windows 7 image thumbdrive and rebooted.  But PADDe refused to boot off the USB drive – instead only displaying the usual screen to select either Presto or Windows XP.  I uninstalled Presto and tried again.  Nope – now it just booted into XP.  Rebooting again but hitting the F2 key to bring up the BIOS, I realized that a year ago I had disabled the power-on tests and other boot delays to speed things up.  So I set those back to normal and tried again.  It still wouldn’t boot off the thumbdrive.  Another visit to the BIOS revealed that, even though I had it set to boot first off removable media and then try booting off the hard drive, for whatever reason PADDe was reading that USB thumbdrive much like a hard drive.  It showed up over in the hard drive settings as the secondary hard drive.  So I set it to be the primary hard drive, shifting the real hard drive to the secondary position, and tried again.  This time it worked.  PADDe slowly booted up off the thumbdrive and finally the Windows 7 installation was underway.

Generic Windows 7

The installation itself went like a breeze, although it took long enough that I wandered away, coming back to find PADDe was rebooting and restarting the installation process.  I wondered if there had been an error and the installation had aborted or if instead I’d missed instructions to remove the thumbdrive before the computer rebooted.  Gambling that the installation had gone fine and a normal reboot had accidentally retriggered the thumbdrive’s installation sequence, I cancelled the installation, yanked out the thumbdrive, and rebooted.  I was in luck – Windows 7 booted right up and started updating itself.  But while it was clearly running okay, I had none of PADDe’s special netbook features.  There was no option to switch from normal speed to overclocking to powersaving and the like.  The little buttons that adjust the screen settings, switch the power mode, and start applications with one click were not working.  So it was time to start installing the updated drivers I had downloaded from ASUS.

Reboot…reboot…reboot…

I inserted the thumbdrive with the ASUS drivers and went down their list, triggering one driver update after another.  Most of them wanted to reboot the computer after installing.  I decided to be patient and play it safe, rebooting when prompted.  That meant almost a dozen installs and reboots, which got old fast.  One driver didn’t work – the SATA AHCI driver referenced a controller that didn’t show up in PADDe’s Device Manager – but I’ve seen no ill effect.  The Hotkey Service upgrade, however, triggered a recurrent ACPI error box that reappeared whenever I dismissed it.  Hoping a later driver installation might fix this problem, I plowed on down the list.  But the final upgrades for the overclocking and BIOS upgrade utilities also generated errors, saying I did not have the right BIOS installed.

Fixing the Snafus

Scrounging around on the web, I found an upgrade to the ACPI that resolved that annoying error.  But I knew something was still amiss with the BIOS.  The quandary was that I could not load the ASUS Update utility, which is what you normally use to upgrade the BIOS.  Online I found a DOS mode utility for installing the BIOS, but it wouldn’t work under the Windows 7 DOS shell.  Other instructions spoke of making a bootable floppy disc with the BIOS update, the way we used to do things back in the dark ages, but that wasn’t an option – my only floppy disc drive is in the old desktop computer.  Finally I found instructions to download the latest BIOS version onto the computer and then copy the resulting .ROM file onto a USB drive, then rebooting while striking Shift-F2.  That almost worked – PADDe looked for the BIOS upgrade on the USB key, but then complained it couldn’t find ‘1000H.ROM’.  Okay – so it insists you give that name to the .ROM file?  I renamed the downloaded file on the USB key and that finally worked.  The BIOS was now compatible with Windows 7 and I could finally get the ASUS Update utility to install and so forth.

One More Thing…or Several

But even after all that, I still could not program the special buttons on PADDe.  The defaults are okay, except that one just wants to run Skype and I instead use it to start Firefox.  Yet another visit to the support forums yielded a copy of the missing utility and I finally had a fully functional netbook running Windows 7.  To top things off, I ran the Windows Easy Transfer and it downloaded files and settings off the thumbdrive back onto PADDe.  All that was left was to install some missing applications.  I stuck an Office 2007 DVD into my desktop computer and installed that onto PADDe over the wireless network.  Next will come Corel WordPerfect and a few other programs, and I’m all set.

Was It Worth It?

You betcha.  Windows 7 is a whopperload better than reliable old XP, and it was worth the struggle to get it working on my little netbook.  I haven’t noticed any speed issues and look forward to limiting my time on Windows XP to the machines at work.  Knowing how long it takes our district to upgrade our computers, I’ll still be an XP user for years to come, but not at home.

Posted in technology | Leave a comment

Cyclones and Bella Vistas

Creek

Leafy Streams (click image for a slideshow)

Have you ever had a 2000-acre state park all to yourself?  I did on a warm Saturday afternoon in early November, visiting a place where some of my ancestors had bitter experiences in the Civil War.

Earlier in the week I was perusing my new Hiking Missouri book, looking for something not too far from Bartlesville.  I came across the Ozark Chinquapin Trail at Big Sugar Creek State Park in McDonald County, just west of Barry County where I’ve spent countless vacations since childhood.  I’d never heard of this park, so I looked it up in Google Maps and was shocked to see that it’s adjacent to Cyclone, Missouri.  That place brings forth tales of death and hardship in my family, but not from the tornado that gave the place its name in the late 1800s.

My Ancestors at Big Sugar Creek

Cyclone is nothing more than a low-water crossing and a couple of houses these days, and did not even exist when my great-great-grandfather bought an 80-acre farm just northeast of there in 1851 on a bend of Big Sugar Creek.  He and his wife and children built a milldam and grist mill, using the open range to graze their cattle.  My great-grandfather was born there in 1856, and his mother died in childbirth the following year.  She and her infant are buried there on the farm, which today is the eastern part of the largely undeveloped Big Sugar Creek State Park.  My father located their graves, marked only by fieldstones, in the years before the land was acquired for the park.

After losing his wife, my great-great-grandfather remarried and had another daughter.  But the Civil War would bring a tragic end to their life on Big Sugar Creek.  My great-grandfather recalled how Confederate troops who were stationed in the county in the winter of 1860 through the spring of 1861 drove up in their provision wagons, shot the family’s cattle, hogs, and sheep, loaded them up, and drove away.  Limestone bluffs across the creek from the family farm allowed soldiers to establish a picket line and hold prisoners in that bend of the creek, so it became known as Penitentiary Bottom.

My great-great-grandfather and his two eldest sons joined the Union army in 1862, but someone stole his overcoat and he died of pneumonia in Cassville in late May after only two months of service.  His second wife left for Kansas with their young daughter and the two eldest sons were still in the Union army, so that left six orphans alone at the farm on Big Sugar Creek.  They ranged in age from a 17-year-old daughter to my great-grandfather, who was the youngest at age six.

The six orphans had only two scrubby work steers left, so they made a box bed to mount on the front axle of a wagon, loaded what few belongings they had left, and traveled fifty miles to Lawrence County, where they lived in a cabin that had formerly been used for farm slaves.  My great-grandfather remembered how they had little more than corn bread to eat and he would cry from hunger after going to bed.  There was a small lake nearby where soldiers would come to wash their clothes, and the only shoes my great-grandfather and his siblings had were old shoes the soldiers had thrown away at that lake.

With all of that family history swirling through my head, it was clear that my next day hike would be at Big Sugar Creek.  So Saturday morning I dashed back out along US 60 and I-44 to Joplin.  I could have turned off at Afton for lunch at Neosho, but my last lunch there was unimpressive and I had a hankering for the wood-fire pizza Yelp recommended in Joplin.  I’ve never explored that ugly town very much, so it was interesting to head downtown to old highway 66, where I would turn east for the pizza paradise.  I’d left Bartlesville at 9 am since it was supposedly two hours to Joplin.  But I got to town early, which was just as well, since I got stuck in traffic downtown for 20 minutes waiting for the Joplin Veterans Day’s Parade to pass by.

When I finally reached my goal, I found a tiny restaurant with no cars in a blighted area.  No thanks, Yelp!  So I reluctantly drove back east to pizza choice number two, knowing it was situated, like so many other restaurants, along Joplin’s hideous Range Line Road.  I had the buffet, which helps explain why my lunch consisted of salad, pizza, and, er, a cinnamon roll.  Pizza parlor desserts tend to be a bit strange, don’t they?

Then I rocketed down the new US 71, which has been rebuilt to interstate standards.  At 70 mph it wasn’t long until I reached Pineville, where I turned off onto the narrow asphalt of Big Sugar Creek Road and meandered twelve miles east to lonely Cyclone.  The water was up over the low-water bridge, so I asked a couple at the nearby house what my other options might be.  They assured me I could drive across safely.  “Drive ‘er slow and down the middle, and you’ll make it just fine.”

So I reluctantly drove across it eastward, with water gurgling beneath the floorboards.  The road on the other side was gravel and it was a short drive uphill to the north to reach the entrance to the old Meador farm.  The state bought this area in the 1990s but has not developed much in the park.  There is just the hiking trail over in the western portion, and this eastern portion has an abandoned 1950s homestead.  As was the case years ago when my parents last visited Cyclone, the gate was padlocked.  This time it had a notice that this is a closed portion of the state park.  I considered jumping the fence, but decided it was best to follow the rules and forgo finding the grave of my great-great-grandmother.  This park is administered over at Roaring River, so maybe I’ll ask there sometime for permission.

Returning to the low water crossing, I saw the walls and gears from the old grist and sawmill that was built there in the late 1800s.  Gurgling my way back across, I drove to the Ozark Chinquapin Trail.  A couple finishing their hike were just leaving as I arrived at the trailhead, which has two vault toilets.  Nearby is an old stone outbuilding for the former Shady Grove School.  I had the trail, and thus the entire park, to myself for the rest of my stay.

The three-mile loop trail’s eastern leg meanders north back and forth along a limestone streambed with one section of lumpy limestone bedrock reminiscent of Roaring River’s Dry Hollow.  Much of this portion was dry on this 77-degree November day, but there was one little active stream with pleasant rippling water.  Some of the ridges along there were so eroded they resembled giant gravel piles.  (Reminds one of Joplin’s sinkholes and tailings from years of lead and zinc mining.)  My scuffling along the leafy trail spooked a white-tail deer away from the stream and up the slope.  As the trail looped around on the north, it ran along the side of a wooded hill.  There I saw an interesting hollow tree and meandered off trail to reach a truly strange tree.

Then it was back down the streambed of the western leg.  Here the water had carved out a small natural amphitheater and flooded it, with lovely ripples and shadows and floating autumn leaves.  This stream had carved deeper through the limestone layers.  With no one about, I set up my Gorillapod for a self-portrait.  Near the end of the hike, I spied something odd in the streambed.  It looked like a piece of sidewalk embedded in a tree.  A closer look showed that a chunk of limestone had crashed downstream or out of the side of the streambed in a flood, embedding in a tree that valiantly grew around it.

Arriving back at the trailhead, I stripped off my shirt and washed up.  I never expected to be this warm in November!  Freshened up, I drove back to US 71 and rocketed down to Bella Vista, Arkansas.  This golfers’ paradise has now incorporated, although one’s impression is still a series of golf courses surrounded by retirement homes and interspersed with box stores and strip malls.  But it beats Joplin’s Range Line!

I drove into the heart of “town”, which looks like a dendritic forest on the map.  There behind the dam at Lake Windsor is the Tanyard Creek Nature Trail.  Volunteers constructed this trail, which wraps around the namesake creek with nice bluffs and drip walls, a small cave with an ugly tin cover over its entrance (that part was simply too ugly for a snapshot), and some impressive rocks.  The trails are dotted with innumerable signposts identifying trees and natural formations.  True to form, I ignored almost all of them.  Walking by so many such posts reminds one of driving by mile markers on the Turner Turnpike.  But the creek below the Lake Windsor spillway is quite pretty, although malodorous.

I would have liked to photograph the small waterfall there as well, but a family was hogging the cramped viewing area, blithely ignoring the rules about walking past the fence so they could take snapshots by the falls with their cell phones.  What a contrast to my own refusal to break the rules and enter a closed section of an absolutely empty state park to go see my ancestor’s grave.  It takes all types!

Trudging back to the car, I took one last snapshot of the rushing water as dusk closed in.  After the Yelp failure at lunch, I wondered how dinner would go.  But Urbanspoon’s recommendation of Las Fajitas was accurate.  The place was packed, the food was tasty, and I liked their brightly painted tabletops and booth backs.  It was a quick roll back to Bartlesville.  In fact, I spent far more time downloading photos from a friend’s borrowed camera, editing and posting them, and writing this post than I did driving back to Bartlesville from another successful day hike.

Click for a photo slideshow from this day trip

Posted in day hike, photos, travel | 1 Comment

The Pale Blue Dot That Always Makes Me Cry

pbdThe other day I had to choke back the tears in class again, for I always break down when I mention Carl Sagan and the Pale Blue Dot.

Carl was a great popularizer of science and astronomy, perhaps best known for his inimitable way of saying “billions” where he always emphasized the b.  His PBS television series Cosmos influenced me greatly with its spectacular scope and vision.  [At this writing, you can view Cosmos on hulu.com!]

I loved his books, especially Broca’s Brain: Reflections on the Romance of Science, The Dragons of Eden: Speculations on the Evolution of Human Intelligence, and the “baloney detection kit” from his The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark.  He was a great agnostic skeptic of tremendous eloquence and sincerity.  I love how he convinced NASA to put messages on the Pioneer and Voyager probes that would be leaving our solar system.  Messages that could, in some distant future, possibly be found by aliens and be a remembrance of our civilization.

But the Pale Blue Dot always makes me cry.  Sagan convinced NASA to have Voyager 1, as it exited the solar system in 1990, turn its view back toward the sun and snap one last photo of our planet.  Earth showed up as a pale blue dot – a single pixel in the grainy image.  Sagan capitalized on the power of that symbol in a commencement address he gave in 1996 a few months before his death:

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

Thanks, Carl, for the Pale Blue Dot, even though it always make me cry.

Posted in physics | 2 Comments