Loving2Hate

Sometimes I simply love to hate. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve caught myself saying this regarding various subjects in my life. The latest resurrection of the phrase likely came about because I traveled to Las Vegas with a couple of friends for the SEMA car show, and Vegas is certainly a place that I love to hate. In fact, I love hating it so much, I couldn’t wait to get there.

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There’s much to hate about Vegas if one just thinks about it—especially from my rural setting of Wyoming. So, I always look forward to the newest Las Vegas particulars to hate that I never expected or considered. So, beyond the usual overcrowded and loud casinos, overpriced tickets for washed-up entertainment icons, and the ubiquitous, supersized LED displays, I was pleasantly surprised to add a couple of new things to what I love to hate about Las Vegas—all on the last full day of my stay there.

SEMA Fest
On the second day of SEMA Fest not long after the gates opened, I was turned back at the entrance by security personnel because I had a “professional grade” camera with me—a modest Yashica Electro 35 (mm) film camera. At first, I thought they were just having me on because I had a camera that was built in the early 1970s. But, when I realized the security staffer was not joking, I reached around in my back pocket and pulled out my iPhone X and said, “You should be more worried about this camera.” The staffer didn’t budge only to tell me that the iPhone was permitted, while assuring me that I could not enter with my threatening 50-some-year-old 35mm, f1.7 fixed 45mm lens rangefinder camera.

I was sure there was some mistake, but once I realized they weren’t going to relent, I gave up and walked back to a friend’s car to squirrel away my humble Yashica. During that long walk back to the car, all I could think about was how ignorant the organizers of SEMA Fest must be when it comes to cameras and photography. I felt like I had been transported back to the entrance gates of Northeast Ohio’s Blossom Music Center in the 1970s. And so, it was during that walk back to the car and once more to the SEMA Fest entrance that my love to hate Vegas came screaming back like a Tom Brady, game-winning offensive drive in the final seconds.

With my film camera receiving a red-card by the SEMA Fest photography police, I realized that whatever photography I would attempt that day would be limited to my iPhone. Now I had a new mission thanks to SEMA Fest’s draconian photography policy—I would shoot to my heart’s content with my iPhone and eventually submit images from the day to whatever paying, professional publications I could find while making sure that the SEMA Fest photo nazis get notified of my supplemental income from that day—with my iPhone!

I’m never very confident when it comes to my own photography, but spite can be a powerful thing, changing a person’s outlook in any given situation. 

Circus Circus
It’s not a stretch to predict that the next major casino to be razed on the Las Vegas Strip will be Circus Circus. It was a dump 20 years ago. Today, it is nothing more than an ugly and smelly eyesore on the life support of desperate, low-stake gamblers.

Because SEMA Fest was in the shadows of the crumbling 35-story Circus Circus, we walked over to the 50-some-year-old rundown infestation in search of a modest lunch. What a mistake that was as I was reminded of shopping at a crowded Walmart on Black Friday—not to mention the healthy menagerie of trashy and gloomy patrons filling up its corridors, restaurants, and gambling locations.

Further, while walking around in Circus Circus, I was certain that its dystopian interior and unhealthy-looking patrons was surely the place I would contract a bad case of COVID-19.

Lastly, like most of the other casinos in Vegas, Circus Circus is no different in its tolerance and accommodating environment for smokers. Say what you want about the casino high-tech ventilation systems, when I returned to my room that evening, I felt as if I had been walking through the smoke-filled 1970s all over again. It’s been a long time since my clothes smelled like a crowded bar full of smokers.

Not Too Far

^{An eight-man football game in Joliet on a Friday night.}

Now that school is back in session, traveling to wherever my heart desires is a bit out of the question even if I am curious to see what the drive to Alaska would be like in say, November.

This past weekend, I decided to make a trip to the home football game in Joliet, Montana—a little over an hour drive from my home in Powell, Wyoming. Although I’ve been to several games at Joliet in past years, I’d never captured an aerial view of the venue and the Friday night weather forecast was looking exceptional for Joliet and some aerial photography.

Once the darkness took over, I decided to exit the game and meet up with an old friend at the Cooney Reservoir campground just south of Joliet. It probably only took 20 minutes to get to the campground which was tolerable given my distaste for night driving.

Once I arrived, each of us set up our vehicles for a restful night of sleep and in the morning just after sunrise, I flew the drone over the reservoir for a few landscape shots.

^{Cooney Reservoir is 20 minutes south of Joliet, Montana.}

A Lake with No Name

There’s a lake, not too far from here, Maybe about a mile as the crow (or drone) flies. Every map I’ve studied and the few people I know around here tell me this lake has no name. It’s a beautiful lake, but to be fair, there are many lakes in Alaska. In fact, Alaska could easily be The Land of 10,000 Lakes as well even if that moniker is already taken.

So, this little unnamed lake has been my muse for the two months that I’m staying here. I’ve thought of giving it a name for my own use, but nothing inspirational has hit me yet. Feel free to makes some suggestions in the comment section below.

Postscript: I recently learned that some of the local mushers refer to this lake as “First Lake” because it is the first lake along that particular trail.

Confession from Alaska

^{An outbound A-10 Warthog from Eielson AFB.}

There are several attractions when it comes to spending the good part of a summer housesitting and taking care of seven sled dogs in Alaska—most can probably come up with their own list of interests. For me it is the extra hours of daylight, and compared to the lower 48, the relief of mild temperatures at a latitude of sixty-four degrees north.

There is another attraction that I wasn’t counting on, and I’m somewhat reluctant to admit to it. I feel as if a priest should be present for what follows: It takes place every weekday morning at about 9:00 sharp—when fighter aircraft from Eielson Air Force Base fly over. As it turns out, they seem to fly straight over the property from their home base just south of Fairbanks. Sometimes they fly over in the afternoons too, but the morning exercises seem to be pretty consistent.

I grew up watching all kinds of aircraft fly over our house everyday as our home was under the final approach of the Akron Municipal Airport—this included the Goodyear Blimp too. Back then, fighter aircraft were rare, so when they did fly over, everyone stopped what they were doing to watch them overhead.

This morning between 9:00 and 10:00, I counted 28 fighter and attack aircraft fly overhead. I’m assuming they were all different ones. For the most part they fly out in waves of four—single file. I’m unsure what fighter aircraft they are. Even through my telephoto lens on my camera, it’s hard to really determine if they are F-15 Eagles, F-16 Falcons, F-18 Hornets, or one of the newer fighters like the F-35 Lightnings, but when I drove past the base on my way into town last week, I noted the Falcons and some other twin-tailed fighters sitting near the runway.

The other aircraft included in this daily aviation parade are the slower and quieter A-10 Warthogs. They are easy to identify in their straight wing profile and the twin engines near the tail and mounted on the side of their fuselage. The Warthogs typically travel in pairs—somewhat side-by-side, but with one trailing the other.

All of these aircraft are pretty high in the air by the time they get overhead and with the recent smokey skies from fires in Western Alaska, the view of each aircraft is mostly a profile. I’m looking forward to some clearer days when I can get a better look.

A formation of F-35A Lightning IIs and F-16 Fighting Falcons assigned to the 354th Fighter Wing assemble during a routine readiness exercise at Eielson Air Force Base, Alaska, May 20, 2022. The formation demonstrated the 354th FW’s ability to rapidly mobilize and launch aircraft from its strategic arctic location. (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Elizabeth Schoubroek)

One day, some were returning to the base and traveling much slower and lower, so perhaps I’ll get some better images when (and if) that happens again. Lately, they have been returning to base just west of the property, but out of sight thanks to the tall trees all around—I hear them, but can’t see them.

As they fly over each morning, I find myself wondering about where they are going or how far they are going. And, even though it seems routine as they fly over everyday, I wonder how routine these flights truly are.

I was told the other day that since the war between Ukraine and Russia has started, the activity of these flyovers has increased.

On a related note, I heard on the radio this morning that since its release three weeks ago, the new Top Gun movie has grossed something like $700 million in tickets. I wasn’t really counting on viewing that flick anytime soon because it sounds like they used the same corny, formula as the first film—even another beach volleyball scene. That said, I might sneak into some theatre to sheepishly watch while blaming it on my new-found summer attraction during my stay in Alaska. I’ll never admit it if I do.

Over the Big Horns

…Big Horn Mountains, that is.

Big Horn Mountains

I guess it was a good weekend.

A new vacation rental property in Sheridan, Wyoming was assigned to me on Saturday, so I decided to make the best of it. A spring storm had just passed over the day before, so I knew there would be plenty of snow up high in my travel over the Big Horn Mountains. The only thing I wasn’t totally sure about were the conditions of the roads; in particular U.S. Highway 14 above 5,000 feet in elevation. But, thanks to the warmer weather moving in right after, and the efficiency of the snowplows on the mountain, there were only a few spots where I needed to slow down a bit.

Also, thanks to the longer days associated with this time of year, I knew there was no reason to be hurried on my way home after the assignment.

The little gallery above are a few of the images that I captured with my drone. I did shoot some black and white film along the way too, but as we all know, images from that aren’t quite as “immediate.”

Flirting with the Northern Lights

Galina with Orion, Taurus, Sirius, Betelguise, and other countless friends.

It was a  rare moment in terms of the calendar year. Typically I don’t visit the quiet and secluded Polecat Bench until the school year is over in mid-May, but the prospect of the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) making an appearance this far south was too much to resist. Further, night forecast was shaping up to be mostly clear skies with few clouds.

Sure, I’ve taken a few images of the night sky from the darkness of The Bench, but never with the Northern Lights on the stage.

So, I told my former student, Galina, about it (who doesn’t have a car, and therefore doesn’t get to travel beyond our small town very often), and she was all in.

We loaded up our camera equipment around sundown and made our way to the Bench and arrived as the darkness was taking over, but with plenty of light on the horizon. I parked the truck facing north and we waited.

We lingered outside of the truck at first, and watched the overhead satellites go by along with the growing number of stars as the darkness enveloped our world. Then we retreated to the truck when the cold started to overcome us. Inside the truck, I fired up the engine to heat up the interior and then turn it off.

This little cycle happened at least two times before Galina spotted a glow that seemed a little out of place on the north-by-northwest horizon. We stepped out of the truck and set up our equipment.

It wasn’t long before we had recorded our first long exposure that revealed the barely noticeable Northern Lights—but certainly more revealing on the camera’s sensor.

Nonetheless, as fast as the anomaly made its appearance it was gone—gone for the the next 90 minutes or so as we waited for another showing before calling it a night and departing for town.

The next day I read about how last night’s Lights would be the last day of their appearance, and how the experts had predicted they would peak sometime after midnight—well past our outing.

Maybe I’ll be prepared to stay longer the next time they come around.

Years in the Making

Long before I started flying drones, I’ve always noticed this one area of railroad track on the way to Billings on any given trip. Instead of climbing an incline west of Warren, Montana, the tracks cut through the grade creating a deep gash through the sloping terrain. I’d always considered walking from the highway to the gash with a camera and capture a train passing through.

The only problem, not knowing when a train is coming through that area; which is the reason why I haven’t any images from this location… up until this past Saturday.

Driving home from Billings and coming up on the town of Fromberg, a long freight train was traveling in the same direction and right away I realized that the train would be passing through the gash some 30 miles ahead. I reckoned that my average speed would get me there in time to walk over to the landmark and get my camera equipment ready before the train’s arrival due to its slower average speed.

As it turned out, I had plenty of time. I estimated the train was about 15 minutes behind, but it turned out to be almost a half hour. I’d almost given up, thinking it must have stopped at Bridger or some other location along the way, thus delaying its progress. But, finally I spotted it’s bright headlamps on the horizon and prepared my drone for the video in this post.

A Burlington Northern / Santa Fe freight train makes its way through “the gash.”