Tarantulas in New Mexico are an
athletic bunch. Leading an active
life which includes eating right and
exercise, this fuzzy 'little' fella is
looking for someone with whom to
play tennis. Unfortunately, its last
perspective partner ran away
screaming in terror.
athletic bunch. Leading an active
life which includes eating right and
exercise, this fuzzy 'little' fella is
looking for someone with whom to
play tennis. Unfortunately, its last
perspective partner ran away
screaming in terror.
At Three Rivers Petroglyph Natural
Recreation Site, my son and I look east
and contemplate the mountains guarding
the western bound of the Mescalero
Apache Indian Reservation. While
visiting the space center at Alamogordo
and White Sands Missile Range, it's an
easy day trip up highway 54 to Three
Rivers. Below are a mere few of the
hundreds of enigmatic etchings.
Recreation Site, my son and I look east
and contemplate the mountains guarding
the western bound of the Mescalero
Apache Indian Reservation. While
visiting the space center at Alamogordo
and White Sands Missile Range, it's an
easy day trip up highway 54 to Three
Rivers. Below are a mere few of the
hundreds of enigmatic etchings.
View from the Grand Canyon's
South Rim. Driving through
the Four Corners region of the
Desert Southwest is a
humbling experience. Consider
that as you drive through the
immense and ancient beauty of
Monument Valley or past
Shiprock, one may find
themselves so isolated that no
radio station is attainable.
While running out of gas is
never fun, if one is planning on
doing so, choose your spot
wisely.
South Rim. Driving through
the Four Corners region of the
Desert Southwest is a
humbling experience. Consider
that as you drive through the
immense and ancient beauty of
Monument Valley or past
Shiprock, one may find
themselves so isolated that no
radio station is attainable.
While running out of gas is
never fun, if one is planning on
doing so, choose your spot
wisely.
Shiprock in
New Mexico.
New Mexico.
It is lonely, but beautiful drive north
from Gallup on Hwy. 666. I was told
that in a state with more than its share
of alcohol related motor deaths, more
people die on 666 than any other road
in The Land of Enchantment. Yet most
of these deaths aren't of drivers, but
intoxicated stragglers walking along
the road.
So the challenge is to make it safely
up from Gallup without running over
an inebriated hitchhiker, or being
accosted by a skinwalker. Long before
you get to Bureau of Indian Affairs
Road 13, Shiprock will be visible to
the north - northwest. Towering above
the desert plains of the Navajo Indian
Reservation, Shiprock is sacred to the
people of this land.
from Gallup on Hwy. 666. I was told
that in a state with more than its share
of alcohol related motor deaths, more
people die on 666 than any other road
in The Land of Enchantment. Yet most
of these deaths aren't of drivers, but
intoxicated stragglers walking along
the road.
So the challenge is to make it safely
up from Gallup without running over
an inebriated hitchhiker, or being
accosted by a skinwalker. Long before
you get to Bureau of Indian Affairs
Road 13, Shiprock will be visible to
the north - northwest. Towering above
the desert plains of the Navajo Indian
Reservation, Shiprock is sacred to the
people of this land.
I stood and stared at the silent giant
which is Shiprock. My son was a few
steps away, while my wife was
hundreds of yards from us, nearer to the
mountain's base. In the distance, a herd
of horses galloped beside a long spine
of rock which radiates outward from
Shiprock. For reasons of their own, the
horses turned and began to come
towards my son and I. Though the
horses were mere specks, the dust
stirred up by their trampling hooves was
easy enough to see.
My heart began to pick up pace as the
beat of those hooves reached my ears.
The horses were on a path which ran
straight towards my son and I. My wife
watched in horror, unable to do
anything. I pulled my son behind me,
figuring if we were to be trampled, I
should go first. Guarding my son with
one hand, I kept hold of my camera with
the other and snapped the above shot as
the six horses turned and continued on a
path only they knew. Luckily, on that
day, their path did not include me and
my little boy.
which is Shiprock. My son was a few
steps away, while my wife was
hundreds of yards from us, nearer to the
mountain's base. In the distance, a herd
of horses galloped beside a long spine
of rock which radiates outward from
Shiprock. For reasons of their own, the
horses turned and began to come
towards my son and I. Though the
horses were mere specks, the dust
stirred up by their trampling hooves was
easy enough to see.
My heart began to pick up pace as the
beat of those hooves reached my ears.
The horses were on a path which ran
straight towards my son and I. My wife
watched in horror, unable to do
anything. I pulled my son behind me,
figuring if we were to be trampled, I
should go first. Guarding my son with
one hand, I kept hold of my camera with
the other and snapped the above shot as
the six horses turned and continued on a
path only they knew. Luckily, on that
day, their path did not include me and
my little boy.
More Pictures...
Southwestern
Exposure
Exposure
And a little Southwestern
music ...
music ...