Dreamland, Greenland

Paul Klenck March 22, 2019

The flight from London to Chicago started very cloudy with little to see but occasional waves. As the flight screen showed us approaching Greenland however, the sky cleared and an amazing expanse of ice appeared.

Ice in the sea near east coast of Greenland

Mountains spread across the southern tip of the world’s largest island. For some reason, my head was playing Joni Mitchell’s song of a flight but substituting “Greenland, Greenland.”

With dreamland coming on
Dreamland, dreamland
Dreamland, dreamland

In a plane flying back to winter

The middle of the island was a big sheet of glacier and snow. Slovenian National Geographic photographer Ciril Jazbec has a remarkable project of the Inuits of Greenland and the devastation climate change has on their life: On Thin Ice.

Watching the flight path and mileage counter on the seat back showed an incredible coincidence. At the precise halfway point between London and Chicago we were flying over a seahorse-shaped island on the west coast of Greenland.

Because of the distinctive shape of the island and this last one on the east coast, it was easy to find on Google Maps. Remarkably, there is a small village just southwest of here named Arsuk. Can you believe there is a Google Maps street view! Very soon the flight was completely cloud covered.

Scottish views

Paul Klenck March 15, 2019

Views from Stirling castle. First, the William Wallace memorial from across the valley.

Stacking Up

Paul Klenck March 8, 2019

Sea stacks are an iconic scene of the U.S. Pacific coast. On the north coast or Oregon is the long, sandy Cannon Beach. The largest feature is called Haystack. Over 200 miles south is Bandon Beach. Here are two images in the “golden hour,” the hour or so near sunrise or sunset.

Well before sunrise, or here after sunset, is the blue hour.

A Thousand Mornings - Mary Oliver

Paul Klenck March 1, 2019

How did I not know of Mary Oliver until I read her obituary last month? She was one of the best selling American poets with thirty books, and won a Pulitzer in 1984. She wrote crystalline images of nature that led to her observations of mortality and living a full life. I have been absorbed in her wonderful works. Some excerpts with my images follow. These small portions of her poems only hint at her profound insights.

Evidence

. . .

Memory: a golden bowl, or a basement without light.

For which reason the nightmare comes with its

painful story and says: you need to know this.

Some memories I would give anything to forget.

Others I would not give up upon the point of

death, they are the bright hawks of my life.

. . .

Evidence, 2009

Osprey a/k/a Fishhawk, Goodwin Waterfowl Management Area, Brevard County, FL

White Heron Rises Over Blackwater

. . .

or the white heron

rising

over the swamp

and the darkness,

his yellow eyes

and broad wings wearing

the light of the world

in the light of the world—

ah yes, I see him.

He is exactly

the poem

I wanted to write.

New and Selected Poems: Volume Two, 2005

Great Heron preening, St. Augustine Alligator Farm

Catbird

. . .

He is neither the rare plover or the brilliant bunting,

but as common as grass.

His black cap gives him a jaunty look, for which

we humans have learned to tilt our caps, in envy.

. . .

Owls and Other Fantasies, 2003

Do Stones Feel?

. . .

Is the tree as it rises delighted with its many

branches,

each one like a poem?

Are the clouds glad to unburden their bundles of rain?

Most of the world says no, no, it’s not possible.

I refuse to think to such a conclusion.

Too terrible it would be, to be wrong.

Blue Horses, 2014

Oak, Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park, Florida

What is the color of your day?

Paul Klenck February 22, 2019

Some images from dawn to dusk in Florida. We start with light rising over the Atlantic.

A bit north and inland, some birds look for places to roost as the sun goes down.

Sandhill Cranes silhouette, Viera Wetlands

A few people were around watching the sunset on the Matanzas River south of St. Augustine. Most had left when the best light show arrived in the dusk after the sun was down.

At the far right of this image, you can see the silhouette of Fort Matanzas. Built in 1740, it guarded the southern, inland water route to St. Augustine where the Spanish city was vulnerable to attack. That’s where I wanted to photograph the sunset, but the ranger locked the gates as I got there! This was a decent location, though!

Dusk on the estuary, Fort Matanzas National Monument, Florida

First sight, old friends & new acquaintences

Paul Klenck February 15, 2019

A few birds have left marks on me. Seeing them for the first time was so compelling, I can never forget the sight. My dad had a bird feeder near our back door. It was usually populated with Blue Jays, Mockingbirds, Sparrows, Grackles and an assortment of other daily visitors. One day a rainbow arrived.

Some years later, I was riding my bike past a pond (which today is fenced in and sits between a six lane road and a warehouse). A large, white bird was on the edge of the water, which is a common sight in Florida. Then I got a good look and it stopped me. A huge, dark gray, featherless head. This was before it was speculated that birds were descendants of dinosaurs, but I thought a dinosaur had just appeared. I investigated and figured out I’d encountered a Wood Stork, which was then on the endangered species list. Fortunately, these storks are making a good recovery, and are off the endangered list and hopefully soon off the threatened species list.

Wood Stork, Wakodahatchee Wetlands, Florida

I went to the Everglades for the first time in high school. My parents and I camped in Flamingo which is at the southern tip of mainland Florida. At sunset, flocks of Roseate Spoonbills flew overhead ablaze in the evening light to their rookeries in the mangrove islands. Seeing their pink wings is still a thrill.

Roseate Spoonbill, Orlando Wetlands, Florida

And then there are new acquaintances to make. As I was trying to photograph this quick fellow, a nearby birder identified it as a Blue-headed Vireo, a new bird on my life list.

Blue-headed Vireo, Green Cay Wetlands, Florida

And there are old, familiar friends. This Mockingbird was singing to announce the new morning as the wind ruffled its feathers.

Mockingbird, Anhinga Trail, Everglades National Park

When I was five, a couple newly hatched mockingbirds fell out of their nest, and we fed and raised them. I named them Tweety and Limpy, because one had a gimpy leg. I taught them to fly by perching them on my finger and lowering it so they’d flap their wings. Though they eventually took off on their own, they would come by to visit. We’d leave our backdoor open, and while other birds were content to stay at the feeder, Tweety would fly in the house to get the raisins or nuts we’d leave on the counter for him.

I'm Heron You

Paul Klenck February 8, 2019

Sorry for the late post. I’ve been out shooting some birds rather than sitting at the computer. Here are a few herons from earlier this week. Most are from the water reclamation areas I posted on Tuesday. The first is a Little Green Heron cooperatively perching on a nice branch before taking off. This little fellow has a very loud, unforgettable croocking call. Shot at Wakodohatchee Wetlands.

Black Crowned Night Herons are found on every continent except Australia and Antarctica. You can find them nesting in city parks in Chicago. The first fellow showing off his white plum resides in Big Cypress National Preserve—a part of the Everglades. The young fellow is from Viera Wetlands.

A warning before the next image.

If you like to eat, but don’t like to see other animals eating, don’t look. This Great Blue Heron at Wacodahatchee Wetlands is looking eye-to-eye with his next meal.

Reflecting

Paul Klenck February 1, 2019

While much of the country was in a deep freeze, these guys were reflecting on finding food in the water. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy this bit of warmth. All images from Grissom Memorial Wetlands, also called Viera Wetlands, or more prosaically, the South Central Brevard Wastewater Treatment facility. The birds come whatever the name of the place. The first image is a tiny fellow just popping out of swimming underwater—the Pied-billed Grebe.

Nearby was a solitary figure, the Little Blue Heron looking to capture a snack, or possibly just admiring its gorgeous plumage.

Across the water was little blue’s big cousin a Great Blue Heron finding a nice frame to look statuesque.

Great Blue Heron framed by Pickerel Weed

The last bit of sun caught this trio of a White Ibis, Glossy Ibis, and an American Coot.

Winter in Yellowstone

Paul Klenck January 25, 2019

At dinner last night a friend talked about planning her first family trip to Yellowstone National Park this June. How wonderful for an eleven year old to be introduced to this magical place. While it will be quite different in June, here’s some images from two years ago. (And talking with the friends we went with about returning next winter!) All the images are from North Geyser Basin near Old Faithful.

Under the tree

Paul Klenck January 18, 2019

On the shoulders of the Sierra Nevada Mountains grow sequoia trees, the largest living things. On the coast grow their cousins, the redwood. So while not the correct species, I think Van Morrison’s song works.

Boy and his dog
Went out looking for the rainbow
You know what did they learn
Since that very day

Walking by the river
And running like a blue streak
Through the fields of streams and meadows
Laughing all the way

The Congress Trail, Sequoia National Park

Oh redwood tree
Please let us under
When we were young we used to go
Under the redwood tree

And it smells like rain
Maybe even thunder
Won't you keep us from all harm
Wonderful redwood tree

And a boy and his father
Went out, went out looking for the lost dog
You know what oh haven't they learned
Since they did that together
They did not bring him back
He already had departed
But look at everything they have learned
Since that, since that very day

Van Morrison, Redwood Tree, 1972

The Florida Mountains

Paul Klenck January 11, 2019

I’ve mentioned before that one of my mentors growing up in Florida was Erna Nixon. I don’t remember the context, if she was commenting on a picture I showed or we were just outside looking and talking, but she remarked that in Florida, clouds are our mountains. Hope you like the mountain views.

Wood Stork, Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge

Moccasin Island Tract, River Lakes Conservation Area, Florida

Seeing 10 million years

Paul Klenck January 4, 2019

You may have noticed a new watermark on my images. My son Dan and his fiancee Melina gifted me with this graphic designed by a friend of theirs, Hannah Bess Ross. Many Native American cultures have totems or tonalii which are spiritual links to an animal. My link is to this tall, ancient bird.

Sandhill Crane, Virgil Grissom Wetlands, Florida

This fellow, nearly five feet tall, let me sit in the grass and watch him dig for insects while getting his portrait with a wide angle lens. Sandhills in Florida become accustom to humans and have even eaten out of my hand. While some Sandhills live year round in Florida, most migrate to the northern U.S. and Canada. An eastern migration route spends several weeks south of Lake Michigan in Jasper Pulsaki Wildlife Refuge in northern Indiana feeding on leftovers in the surrounding farm fields.

Fossils of birds nearly identical to the Sandhill are over 10 million years old. The Sandhills’ call is loud, ancient, and unforgettable. Click here for their flight call Our home is on the migration path, and I’ve heard their call in my house and gone outside to see hundreds of cranes far up in the sky on the move.

The birds mate for life, and you can find pairs doing elaborate dances jumping in the air, spreading their wings, and calling to their mate.

The western migration route funnels the cranes along the Platte River in Nebraska, and many winter along the Rio Grande in New Mexico or head further south into Mexico. The cranes usually spend the night in water to keep away from predators. At Bosque, near dawn, thousands of cranes and geese explode in flight from the pools and fly to nearby fields. Last week’s post had an image of snow geese on a dawn take off.

Cranepool, Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, New Mexico

The fellow in the first image let me collect some close up shots along with the wide angle.

Silent Night

Paul Klenck December 27, 2018

All is calm, all is bright

Glories stream from heaven afar

Love'‘s pure light

With the dawn of redeeming grace.

Kodachrome

Paul Klenck December 21, 2018

Utah is filled with spectacular national parks and monuments, and it has some state park gems. With appropriate marketing, one is named Kodachrome Basin State Park.

Sunset, Kodachrome Basin State Park, Utah

How about a quiz? What does this image have to do with the next one?

Morning Glory Spring, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

While geologists aren’t sure how the 67 sedimentary pipes in the park were formed, the primary theory is that they are remnants of ancient springs, like Morning Glory above, that were then filled with sediment and the softer sandstone eroded away. The monoliths are intriguing features throughout the park.

Moon and Venus, Kodachrome Basin State Park

Grand Sunset

Paul Klenck December 14, 2018

As I was photographing in southern Utah, I had worked my way east and crossed into northern Arizona. I was getting ready to retrace my path back to the hotel, when I noticed clouds gathering in the south. I took a chance that a return route via the north rim of the Grand Canyon might yield a nice sunset. I checked to make sure the road was open and headed out. As I drove, smoke gathered, and I was soon driving through the darkness of a prescribed forest burn. Photography wasn’t looking too good. I got through the burn and the clouds were still up, but a mist was gathering. I took a chance there would still be a colorful sunset and drove to the canyon.

There are fewer visitors to the north rim, and I discovered very few on the cold, mid-November evening. I was joined by a few photographers and viewers, but a mist was obscuring the view, and the sky was slate gray.

Bright Angel Point, Grand Canyon National Park

Two guys were scouting the run they would make the next day. To the South Rim and back!! Fourteen miles and nearly 6,000 feet down, then over twelve miles and 5,000 feet up, and then come back. Unbelievable.

I was content to stay on the rim and take some images. The conditions were improving.

View from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon

The winter sun hit the southwest rim. Most everyone had left the cold night except for one other photographer and his French Bulldog who had a great deal of interest in my shoes—and likely my friend’s bulldog I had visited a few days before!

Then, a sight I’d never seen before. The sun seemed to melt, dissolve and whirl away.

By now, I was alone on the rim. But the light show often doesn’t end after the sun sets. After the drama, a simple coda. And then perhaps, some stars.

Southwest Night Sky

Paul Klenck December 7, 2018

One of the great attributes of the Southwest U.S. away from the cities is the dark skies. A benefit of traveling at the end of the year is that it is darker longer. Our first night in Death Valley National Park had clear, desert sky, an early setting moon, and a Night Sky ranger talk. After the talk, another couple sat outside their car enjoying the Milky Way.

Milky Way, Death Valley National Park, California

As the week went on, the moon got fuller and stayed up later making it more difficult to get the darkest sky images. However, the moonlight helped light up the red rocks of Zion National Park. The first image below is looking west with the Milky Way starting to appear. The next image is turned east with the moon and Venus showing through the remaining light from the setting sun.

Mt. Carmel Highway, Zion National Park, Utah

A future blog post will have some images from one of the most amazing sunsets I’ve ever seen. Afterward, some stars started coming out. You can see the constellation Cassiopeia over the tree on the left. You want clouds for a fiery sunset, but not for star images.

North Rim night, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The moonlight helps light the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon.

Just outside Bryce National Park is Red Canyon in Dixie National Forest. Your eyes’ night vision don’t pick up color very well, but the camera sensor captures the red rock in the moonlight.

Into the valley of death

Paul Klenck November 30, 2018

Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America, lies 282 feet below sea level. A spring-fed pool sits in the salt of the basin, reflecting the Black Mountain range to the east.

Badwater Basin spring, Death Valley National Park

A walk from the spring into the salt flats challenges perspective. A small landmark looks not far away, until you’ve walked a half mile to get there.

Salt flats and Panamint Range, Death Valley, California

Death Valley is also the driest location in the U.S. Less than 2 inches of rain fall in an average year, though the evaporation is so great, a 12 foot deep lake would evaporate in that year. The evaporation over eons has left a great salt pan across the valley. The salt forms great fractal patterns across the Basin.

Badwater Basin salt fractals and Black Mountains

At Dante’s View in the Black Mountains, you can look nearly a mile down into the Basin and across the Valley. On a very clear day Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the contiguous States at over 14,000 feet, is visible.

In the picture below, you can see Badwater Basin road. The spring in the first image, is blocked from view by the ridge. The second image was shot on the portion of the trail showing just above the ridge that is darkened by footsteps and was in the shadow of the Black Mountains when taken. The third image was taken in the bright salt flats where the trail ends. If you look very carefully, you might be able to see a few hikers there, a mile out from the spring.

Toadstools on the Staircase

Paul Klenck November 21, 2018

Established in 1996, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument spreads across southern Utah. President Trump has attempted to reduce protected land by nearly half, and open 700,00 acres to mineral extraction. Neighboring Bears Ears National Monument, established primarily to protect Native American antiquities, was reduced even more. The executive actions are still pending court review.

A short hike leads to a collection of “toadstools,” pillars supporting a harder boulder. The column is sheltered by the boulder and erodes more slowly than the surrounding rock.

Toadstool Formation, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah

In the upper center of this image you can see the younger, harder Dakota Formation boulders above the softer, older Entrada Sandstone. One Dakota boulder rests on a forming toadstool in the center.

Sometimes it’s helpful to have some human scale to better appreciate the formations.

Paul Klenck and Toadstools-8748a web.jpg

Jets and contrails criss-cross the sky. Hopefully, these toadstools will withstand encroachment from the ground.

Pink Sands

Paul Klenck November 16, 2018

I’m out collecting some images in southern Utah. Yesterday morning I couldn’t resist the name of Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park right on the Arizona border.

The park is used extensively by ATVs and other vehicles in the dunes, so finding areas without tracks can be a challenge.

Below your feet are lots of little animal tracks among the vehicle track and footprints, and many unusual plants grow. I think I brought a good portion of the sand back in my shoes.