Costantino Proietto - Twentieth Century Italian Modern Impressionist - 2011

 

 

Costantino Proietto - Twentieth Century Italian Modern Impressionist 

At Casa Carrie, we own a midcentury original oil painting of Italy's Amalfi Coast hanging in my office. Southeast of Napoli and due west of Sorrento, the Amalfi Coast is famous for the play of light between its Mediterranean sun and sea. In the afternoon, the interplay of direct and reflected sunlight makes the Amalfi Coast perfect for a juxtaposition of seascape and landscape.
 

As I looked around our home, I realized that we have three separate pictures of the Amalfi Coast. The one mentioned above is the masterpiece, with its muted gilt frame, deep textures and sublime light. Adjacent to it is a framed print of a similar scene, painted from a different vantage point. The third is a small, sunny oil painting with lots of color and sailboats heeling in an afternoon breeze.
 

With thousands of Amalfi Coast photographs available through Google Images, It was easy to determine that all three of our images are true to their location, including the headlands and coves that make up the Amalfi Coast. From different locations on the same hill, each artist captured a coastal settlement, clinging to a steep hillside in the middle ground. In each, far mountains come down to the sea, ending in a cliff or in a gentler slope, depending on the artist’s perspective.
 

Although each scene is one that I would gladly place myself within, the C Proietto masterpiece is my favorite. At almost thirty-two inches wide by twenty-three inches high, its foreground includes the terrace of a classical villa. On the right is a long bench, with alcoves receding into its mortared structure. Above the stone bench is the azure blue water of the Mediterranean Sea. Dominating the center of the picture, and receding to the left are three great columns, two of which feature slender grapevines. The vines ascend to an arbor, culminating in a leafy crown. Showing a slight nicotinic haze from many years of exposure to cigarette smoke, our masterpiece still shows us gentle gradations of color, from the ocean to the sky. I now turn my head and view a wonderful depiction of both home and coast.
 

For years, neither Carrie nor I could decipher the signature on our masterpiece. Painted across and into the rough texture of the painting, the artist's name looked more like machine characters at the bottom of a bank check. It seemed that the artist did not care if we could read his splotches of black paint. Or, because of his anticipated fame, he expected us to know who he was. Each night, late in his life, Pablo Picasso would sit at the same table in his favorite cantina. When tourists, who knew he might be there stopped in and asked for an autograph, he agreed to do so, but demanded $10,000 in cash for signatures often scrawled on the back of a menu or on his own bill for dinner. Soon tourist seeking an autograph from Picasso, brought sufficient cash with them to obtain their own original Picasso. Something tells me that most of those buyers were not disappointed with their bargain. Pocketing ten or twenty thousand in cash each night satisfied Papa, as well. Perhaps, CProietto expected to be known by his signature alone.
 

One recent morning, Carrie deciphered the signature on our painting. As I awoke that morning, she said to me, "It's, CProietto”, as if I knew what she was talking about. She had been up early, Googling his name and quickly reaching a dead-end at the pay-for-play art database websites. Apparently, they have not yet discovered that data wants to be free. Perhaps they should check with Google for a new business model. With our artist's name now known, I set out to discover (for free) more about this "Man of Amalfi", Signore C. Proietto.
 

According to Google, there are two matches for the Google search, "artist+CProietto". Carlo Giuseppe Proietto is a contemporary Italian pyrographer of note. The other Costantino Proietto was born in Italy in 1900. According to a terse biography accompanying a German eBay listing for one of his paintings, "He was born in Catania, Sicily, studied at the Florence Academy under Professor Fernando Cappuccio. and lived in Italy". He is listed in the auction data bank ‘ADEC artprice’ under ‘Proietto’.” There are no visual images of the artist that are available on the internet, nor do we know his date or place of death. Despite an well documented body of work, CProietto, is not, as of this writing, included in the Wikipedia ‘List of Italian Painters’. Although most fine art catalog websites are available by subscription only, FineArtInfo.com publicly lists three CProietto paintings sold at auction since 2005, plus one that was unsold as of their posting date. Their prices ranged from $100 to $487.
 

While researching images of the Amalfi Coast, I came across a commercially available poster showing the same terrace as our C Proietto original. The biography accompanying that framed print was as follows: “Danish artist Carl Frederik Aagaard (1833 – 1895) was one of the most influential landscape oil painters of Copenhagen’s Golden Age. Aagaard’s work was so revered, that he was asked to paint King Christian IV’s chapel. Initially a student of drawing at the Danish Royal Academy, he was taught by many of the country’s renowned artists, and was strongly influenced by landscape oil painter Peter Kristian Skoovgaard.”
 

Aagaard’s painting includes the same terrace as our masterpiece, but emphasizes a field of view to the left of C Proietto’s. Costantino Proietto was born in 1900, five years after Aagaard’s death, so their paintings of the Amalfi Coast might differ in age by up to one hundred years. When we merge the edge of Aagaard’s image with that of C Proietto, they blend harmoniously. With the addition of Aagaard's view to the pergola, on the left, two separate images morph together in one continuous scene. To support provenance of both his art and the place, Aagaard later painted a perspective back to the terrace, from the far end of the pergola. For the first time we see, from that perspective, the precipice that we only feel in C Proietto's seascape. According to Aagaard's depiction, access to the terrace and pergola requires a walk up a long and arduous path, all the way from sea level to the summit of this "Angel's Landing" location. When I saw Aagaard's precipice for the first time, I felt a touch of vertigo; as if I had just been there.  The well-defined edge of the terrace and the vastness of the Mediterranean Sea heighten the difference in elevation between the terrace and the sea. C Proietto's sublime terrace scene features a landscape view, while Aagaard features landscape view towards his vanishing point.
 

When a master of the nineteenth century and a master of the twentieth century paint the same scene, from the same terrace, it raises as many questions as it answers. Together they answer the question, “Is this place real?” Aagaard's depiction of the place hints, but does not show that the classical villa exists. Left unanswered are questions about C Proietto’s knowledge of Frederik Aagaard and his earlier painting of the same scene. Since each painter includes the columns supporting an arbor above, we know that it is a central feature of the terrace. If one were to review Carl Frederik Aagaard's many variations on the one depicted here, C Proietto's scene varies in ways one would expect over a century of use. C Proietto includes a low fence between the columns. Did someone get too close and step off into the abyss, thus precipitation additional safety measures?. Since the terrace existed for parts of the past two centuries, might it still stand on that rocky precipice today? Before Aagaard or after Proietto, how many others have hiked that switchback path to sublime light and classical delight?
 

The internet image of Aagaard’s Amalfi Coast painting is too small for us to discern more than its overall artistry. On the far left of Aagaard's Amalfi Coast painting, his doorway to infinity tells us that he understood the concept of a vanishing point. Leaving these side mysteries for another day, I did not conduct further research into Aagaard’s other works or the prices that they fetch at auction. Costantino Proietto, on the other hand, we know as a twentieth century artist who combined both modern and impressionistic elements in his Italian seascapes and other water-related scenes.
 

Costantino Proietto created lasting art that graces our home and perhaps many others around the world. The low auction prices that C Proietto oil paintings now command reflect his relatively unknown status, rather than the quality of his work. In my opinion, if he were better known, his paintings would be more highly prized than the $100 - $500 indicated by recent auction prices . Although we do not yet know his date of death, nor do we have a picture of him, we hope that this article will stimulate interest in both the artist and his works. Someone may read this article, walk into his or her study as I did, only to discover that their seascape is a C Proietto original, or maybe a Carl Frederik Aagaard original.
 

In order for the world to appreciate Costantino Proietto as a great Modern Impressionist, we need more information about his art and his life. If any reader has additional images or biographical information to share, we would be happy to post it here. If you have knowledge that will help solve an ongoing twentieth century art mystery, please leave a comment at the bottom of this article or send your images via email. All information posted will include proper attribution, in accordance with the provider’s wishes.
 

Ciao

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By James McGillis at 01:01 AM | Fine Art | Comments (6) | Link

The I-405 Mulholland Drive Bridge Comes Down in Pieces - 2011

The I-405 Mulholland Drive Bridge Comes Down in Pieces

In 1962, my father and I drove thirty-miles from Burbank to Santa Monica, California. New that year and new to us was a 4.1-mile stretch of Interstate I-405. In true California fashion, the new freeway went straight up and over Sepulveda Pass. Its predecessor, Old Sepulveda Blvd. wound its way up and over a longer, more arduous route.

 

The new freeway featured four lanes in each direction, so traffic flowed with ease. A chain-link safety fence separated the northbound and southbound lanes. My father’s car was a 1962 Impala SS, with a 327 V-8 engine and a four-barrel carburetor. Gasoline was less than fifty cents per gallon and the speed limit was sixty-five miles per hour, which we easily reached.

 

At the top of the pass, the roadway curved gently to the right and then traveled under a marvel of a concrete bridge, spanning the freeway without any center support. Unlike any previous span in the Los Angeles area, the new Mulholland Drive Bridge was tall, graceful and elegant in its proportions. Despite its size and novel construction methods, the price tag for the bridge was only $1.8 million.

 

By 1964, my friends and I used “the i405” as our quick conduit to the beach in Santa Monica. On a good day, we could travel the thirty miles in less than an hour. Even though the freeway was less than three years old, parts of the concrete roadbed had started to shift and sag. This made the downhill run from the top of Sepulveda Pass to Sunset Blvd. a white-knuckle ride in my friend Bill’s 1957 Chevy Belair. As the road heaved and turned, we passengers held our breath at the approach to each turn. Although the classic Chevy looked cool, handling on a rough and curvy road was not its forte. As Bill clutched the wheel, The Rolling Stones', “Satisfaction” blared out of the car radio.

 

In 1962, California's population was seventeen million. According to the 2010 census, the population of California is more than twice that, now standing above thirty-seven million. Repaved and widened several times, the I-405 through Sepulveda Pass simply cannot handle twice as many cars as its designers intended. What is the latest solution? Widen it again, of course.

 

In order to squeeze a carpool lane into the northbound direction, the elegant and timeless Mulholland Drive Bridge will come down in halves, beginning mid-July 2011. If all goes as planned, our former “bridge to the future” will disappear by half over a three-day weekend. During the planned 53-hour closure, the southern half will come down in a cloud of construction dust and debris. Despite adequate warning to stay away from the planned freeway closure, you can bet that many in Los Angeles will not get the message. Oblivious or curious, they will head for the beach or the Valley that weekend. After all, freeway traffic jams, called sig-alerts in LA, are a time-honored tradition.

 

On that day in 1962, my father looked up at the bridge as we approached and asked, “Do you know how they built that?” In my awe of the whole scene, I said, “I have no idea. How did they do it?” “I read about it in California Highways," he said. "It's a free magazine, telling us all about our new freeways and how they build them. According to the magazine", he said, “they dug six holes almost one hundred feet deep into the mountain. Then they built the six support columns in those deep holes. Next, they built the bridge deck, which hovered just above old ground level. Although the support columns are solid, reinforced concrete, much of the horizontal structure is hollow. Rather than spanning that wide gulf with steel girders, the bridge relies on prestressed, reinforced concrete tubes to carry the load. After every aspect of the bridge was completed, workers with heavy equipment dug out all the earth beneath the bridge, slowly revealing its final height. It is towering above right now", he said as we passed beneath the shadow of the bridge.

 

Last winter I shot a few pictures of the Mulholland Drive Bridge, while traveling northbound in the afternoon rain. This week, I traveled in each direction over Sepulveda Pass and shot a few more images for posterity. After mid-July 2011, one half of this iconic bridge will be missing from the Los Angeles skyline. Until its two-phase bridge replacement reappears in several years, the I-405 through Sepulveda Pass will remain a work in progress, much as it has for the past fifty years.

 

In 1966, loss of a Rose Bowl berth to USC precipitated the "UCLA Rampage", which led to the first closing of the San Diego Freeway (I-405 Northbound).

 

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By James McGillis at 06:46 PM | Personal Articles | Comments (0) | Link 

Moab UMTRA Plays Russian Roulette With Nuclear Waste - 2011

 

 

Moab UMTRA Plays Russian Roulette With Nuclear Waste 

Late May 2011 found me in Moab, Utah once again. While there, one of my projects was to monitor potential flooding along the Colorado River. Previous research and scientific findings indicate that a Colorado River flood at Moab is more likely now than in any recent time.

 

As temperatures swing, drought prevails and dust storms roam the Four Corners, a heavy spring snowpack, and a quick thaw could create catastrophic flooding at Moab. To be sure, most of the town lies on higher ground, well above the paleo-floodplain. Other than a few commercial buildings and several campgrounds, the greatest risk is flooding at the Moab Pile.

 

During the Cold War years, uranium mines near Moab fed radioactive ore to the Atlas Uranium Mill. Using large quantities of highly corrosive acid, the mill concentrated the ore and then shipped it to the federal government, which had a monopoly on all things radioactive. Since all Americans hypothetically benefited from the nuclear deterrent known as “assured mutual destruction”, so too should we all pay to cleanup the mess abandoned by the nuclear industry.

 

Remnants of the Atlas Uranium Mill and a colossal mountain of radioactive tailings together make up the Moab Pile. Since 2009, excavators have filled and sealed steel containers with vast amounts of the pile’s radioactive earth. From Moab to Crescent Junction, the material takes a free ride via the Union Pacific Railroad's "Train of Pain". Actually, the ride is not free. Through our federal tax dollars, all U.S. Persons pay for its removal.

 

By late May 2011, the Colorado River approached flood-stage in Grand Junction, Colorado. As the flood surged downstream, I wanted to see if the Moab Pile was as vulnerable as paleo-flood surveys indicated. Over a two-day period, I visited several sites on each side of the river and also stood above the flow on the bicycle bridge. Viewed from any angle, water reached higher on the riverbanks than I had ever seen. According to some reports, flow rates have not been this high since 1983, when Lake Powell filled to capacity and forced operators to open the Glen Canyon Dam spill gates for the first time.

 

From the bicycle bridge, looking downstream, the U.S. 191 Highway Bridge appeared to skim low over the water. With its gracefully arched concrete supports, there was still some headroom for the water to flow. Just south of the highway bridge, the Canyonlands by Night buildings looked vulnerable to me. The riverbanks there were high enough to allay imminent fears, but their lack of reinforcement made for inadequate protection in the event of a larger flow. In any event, I would not want to own their flood insurance company.

 

I stopped at Canyonlands by Night to see if they needed a live webcam. A representative said, “No, we already have one”. To myself, I thought, “Maybe you do, but it is not easy to find on the internet”. There was an excursion boat tethered to the floating dock, but otherwise the grounds appeared deserted. Standing close to the river, I could picture two alternate scenarios. In the local version, the flood subsided and life in Moab went on as usual. In the Hollywood version, the snowpack in the high country melted in days, not months. The silent power of the Colorado River flood then enveloped the Canyonlands by Night property and swept it away.

 

Continuing my river tour, I turned off U.S. 191 at Utah State Route 279, better known as the Potash Road. After skirting the now diminished Moab Pile, I headed downstream. Despite nearly a decade of attempted extermination using the Tamarisk Beetle, large, half-dead tamarisk shielded every river view. Soon, I turned around and drove back to where I could see the Moab Pile, the Colorado River and the Scott Matheson Wetlands, all in one panorama. From a distance of about one half mile, the churning brown, river appeared to lap at the base of the Moab Pile. The following day, I drove downriver on the opposite bank, along the Kane Creek Road. With the Matheson Wetlands then to my right, the Moab Pile stood out on the horizon, along the far riverbank. Although the river was turgid and brown, its wide channel in that area kept the river in check.

 

Writing now from California in late June 2011, I must rely on news reports and internet searches to keep up with the story. While Googling variations of, “Colorado River Flood Moab 2011”, I found a number of articles that touched upon the subject. None, however, told what I considered to be a complete story. As I have pieced it together, here is what transpired since I left Moab in early June. 

 

Both the Green River and the Colorado River continued to rise until at least mid-June. Grand Junction, Colorado experienced significant flooding and bank-erosion, although the river made a long, slow peak there. Downstream, near Moab, the Red Cliffs Lodge experienced bank erosion and flooding of temporary structures in what they call their “gravel area”. According to on-scene reports, the river never approached the hotel or its guest rooms. The Colorado River bicycle and highway bridges at Moab stood firmly above the river. Canyonlands by Night remained dry, if not high above the river crest. The Moab Pile still sits sedately in its old place, although water backed-up into adjacent drainage channels.

 

In the spring of 2011, what saved the Moab Pile? The answer may lie in the Matheson Wetlands, which were a softer target than the Moab Pile. Wildfires swept hundreds of acres near the river in 2009, with another sixty acres burned in June 2011. By late June, the river flooded the Matheson Wetlands, submerging much of the recent burn area. Root structures weakened in the 2009 fire now let go altogether. Without further human intervention, the latest fire became the lucky break that we needed. If two separate fires caused by human carelessness had not weakened the plant structures along the river, the wetlands might have held their banks. As it was, they absorbed the flood over a wide flood plain. If they had not accepted the flood as they did, a rampaging Colorado River might have projected its hydraulic power toward the reeking hulk of the Moab Pile.

 

In order to protect the Moab Pile, UMTRA crews have removed some material from its leading edge. UMTRA has constructed several small protective berms, as well. However, the paleo-history of floods along the Colorado River at Moab indicates that the Moab Pile remains vulnerable to the "three hundred year flood", if it should happen during the next decade. During that decade of tailings removal, there is a one-in-thirty chance that a flood of up to ten times the current 32,000 cfs flow rate will hit Moab. Picture a wall of water forty or fifty feet higher than the new highway bridge as it sweeps out of the Colorado Riverway Canyon, and then on towards the Moab Pile.

 

Had the Upper Colorado Basin snowpack been deeper last winter or had it melted faster, the 2011 story might have ended quite differently. We who live downstream and depend on the Colorado River for our water supply were lucky this time. Just as easily, it could have gone the other way. In a Fukushima-like, scenario, some or all of the Moab Pile could now lie as radioactive mud on the bottom of Lake Powell. If a mega flood were to fill Lake Powell, operators at Glen Canyon Dam would open the flood gates and sweep that cloud of radioactive mud on towards Lake Meade. Such an event would likely rank as the number one human caused disaster in all of recorded history. For lack of uncontaminated water, the Desert Southwest would face a human out-migration fifteen to thirty times greater than what occurred during the disappearance of the Anasazi.

 

Recent news reports stated that by 2019, the Moab Pile could be moved. The engineers and workers at the Moab UMTRA project are so efficient that they haul more radioactive-waste more quickly than ever before. among other things, they have learned to fill huge rectangular containers almost to the brim. Even though an initial infusion of federal stimulus money is now gone, the original twenty-year plan could culminate in less than fifteen years. Despite the lucrative contracts to remove it, no one wants to hang around a pile of radioactive waste any longer than necessary.

 

The “speed is of the essence” mentality at Moab UMTRA increases our collective risk. The highest priority should be to protect the pile from flood damage and dispersal. Recent flood mitigation at the site proved sufficient for this year's 30-year flood. Once sufficient flood mitigation is in place to protect against the 300-year flood, removal could again become the top priority. Otherwise, the unprotected status of the Moab Pile will require that we, in the Southwestern United States dodge the “nuclear bullet” each spring until at least 2019.

 

Check back here in 2020 to see if disaster struck. If we are writing our articles from upstream of the current Moab Pile, you will know that current plans did not go well. If we are then writing from downstream in sunny Southern California, you will know that we all won the game of “Nuclear Waste Roulette” now playing out along the Colorado River at Moab.

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By James McGillis at 06:48 PM | | Comments (0) | Link

Is it the Cozy Cone Motel or the Wigwam Motel? To Find Out, Watch the Movie Cars - 2011

 

Is it the Cozy Cone Motel or the Wigwam Motel? To Find Out, Watch the Movie Cars

Anyone who has seen the Pixar movie, “Cars” will recall the Cozy Cone Motel. As with much of that animated movie, a real motel looks surprisingly like the place that McQueen the race car spent the night. At the Cozy Cone Motel, the individual rooms resembled giant orange traffic cones. At Wigwam Village, also known as the Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, Arizona, the individual rooms resemble giant Indian teepees.

 

With a 2009 population of just over 5,000, the City of Holbrook grew by over three percent in the past decade. Among its claims to fame are the only regulation golf course along Interstate I-40 between Flagstaff, Arizona and Gallup, New Mexico. A stretch of Old Route 66 makes up its business district, while I-40 skirts the town to the north.

 

I found Holbrook a pleasant place to spend a Saturday afternoon. After shopping for groceries and talking to locals at the Safeway, I drove across the street to check out the Wigwam Motel. Not wanting to intrude on their business, I approached the old main office, only to find that it was deserted. While researching the place, I discovered that most days, the motel opens for business around 4:00 PM.

 

Even when unoccupied by physical human beings, the place feels like the spirits of ancient travelers still inhabit the grounds. In front of each whitewashed teepee is a 1950’s vintage automobile. Did someone really arrive the previous night in that ’55 Buick Century? Are they inside their teepee, planning to spend another night? As the afternoon wore on, no one entered or exited their teepee to tell me their story, so I made up my own.

 

Years ago, I found a traffic cone in Henderson Nevada. Originally stenciled with the words “SW Gas”, it stood abandoned in a strip mall parking lot. Thinking that I might later need a traffic cone to protect my travel trailer, I named him “Coney” and he has traveled with me ever since.

 

Those who have studied the Pre-Puebloan Indians of the Four Corners region know about the mythical flute player we call Kokopelli. The Ancients chipped images of Kokopelli on to stone canyon walls throughout the region. Some hypothesize that Kokopelli represented the real flute-playing minstrels who wandered from one ancient camp to another. The playing of his flute upon approach to an unknown encampment signaled that he was peaceful and perhaps bore news from elsewhere along the trail.

 

Soon after Coney joined me in my travels, I received a stuffed Kokopelli doll as a gift. Now, whenever I travel in the High Southwest, a smaller version of Coney and my stuffed Kokopelli travel with me in the cab of my truck. When traveling alone for days on end, it is tempting to start up conversations with myself, but I prefer to talk with Coney and Kokopelli. Although they rarely answer my questions, when they do, their advice varies from sage to hilarious.

 

As we approached the Wigwam Motel, they both wanted to get out of the truck and stretch their legs. Well, actually, only Kokopelli has legs, but Coney stood up for himself and demanded time in the fresh air, as well. As we toured the ersatz Indian Village, they wanted to pose with all of the rolling stock that lay around the yard.

 

“Hey, that tow truck looks like Mater from the movie, Cars”, Coney said. Indeed, I could see the resemblance. Soon, Kokopelli was leaning back against Coney and pretending to drive an old orange Ford V8 dump truck. After posing with several of the vehicles, Coney and Kokopelli were ready to move on. Just then, however, a Santa Fe Railroad locomotive sped along the tracks behind the motel.

 

The sun was low in the afternoon sky as we contemplated the loop road at Petrified Forest National Park. After that, we would stop for fuel in Gallup New Mexico. Our final destination that night was Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. “Come on, guys. Let’s go”, I said as we all jumped into the truck. Off we went down West Hopi Drive, also known in the legends of travel as Old-66.

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By James McGillis at 05:38 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

Kathy Hemenway - World Citizen & Resident of Snowflake, Arizona - 2011

 

Kathy Hemenway - World Citizen & Resident of Snowflake, Arizona

After leaving Needles, California, my next stop was at Homolovi State Park, near Winslow, Arizona. While staying there, I visited my friend and fellow environmentalist, Kathy Hemenway at her home in nearby Snowflake, Arizona. Some might think that the Holbrook Basin and Snowflake in particular is a remote location for a former software engineer from Menlo Park, Californian to live, and they are right. When she built there in 1998, remoteness from sources of electromagnetic radiation and other sources of environmental sensitivity were her main goal.

 

Although sensitive to volatile organic compounds all of her life, Kathy became severely ill after unexpected exposure to pesticide pollution. When an exterminator accidentally sprayed her yard in Menlo Park, it precipitated a debilitating illness. From that time on, Kathy was hypersensitive to both chemical pollution and electromagnetic radiation. Exposure to cleaning solutions or electronic equipment was more than she could take on most days.

 

Although she admits that the design of her home might be “overkill” for the problems she then faced, she designed a state-of-the-art “safe house” for herself. From its concrete-block construction, steel roof and steel panels inside all interior walls, to ceramic tile floors and walls, she attempted to eliminate all sources of chemical and electromagnetic pollution. If there was a logical theory on how to ameliorate any of those issues, she employed it in the construction of her home.

 

In 2009, Kathy Hemenway’s pioneering work in “safe house” design and construction caught the interest of the Los Angeles Times. The result of that association was a landmark article on “environmental illness” and ways to avoid its most deleterious effects.

 

Although she does not consider herself a radical environmentalist, Kathy does monitor potential threats to her sanctuary. Over the years, she has helped keep giant wind turbines away from residential areas in Snowflake. From a atop her tiny travel trailer,she allowed the Arizona Department of Environmental Quality (ADEQ) to facilitate air quality monitoring on her property. When the subject of emissions from nearby Arizona Public Service (APS) coal-fired power plants in the area comes up, Kathy attends every meeting. When she and I met, it was to discuss the possible impact of in-situ potash mining planned near Holbrook, Arizona. As of this writing, she was in Tucson, Arizona for a meeting of the Arizona Legislative Mining Caucus. She hoped to meet the potash fellows, as well as the state geologist, state oil and gas administrator, and others.

 

Over a decade after her departure from the rigors of software engineering in Silicon Valley, I am pleased to report that Kathy Hemenway is well, safe and happy in Snowflake Arizona. If you contact her, please be aware that she lives in two worlds. One of her worlds connects to all via telephone, the internet and visits with friends and neighbors. Yet, the address of her house does not appear on Google Maps, MapQuest, Yahoo or Bing. If you follow any of their directions, you will end up on a dirt road to nowhere. All of that is acceptable to Kathy Hemenway. Visits to her unique world are by invitation only.

 

Obituary: Dr. Kathleen Hemenway passed away at home in Snowflake, Arizona June 9, 2016. She was 61 years old.

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By James McGillis at 05:47 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

Desert View Mobil - A Real Service Station - In Needles, California - 2011

 

Desert View Mobil - A Real Service Station - In Needles, California

After three weeks traveling through Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah, I am safely home again at Casa Carrie in Simi Valley, California. Over the years, I have learned that any visit to the Four Corners States will be an adventure. This extended visit to the High Southwest was no exception.

 

After one night at the Mojave National Preserve, I drove into Needles, California for some service on my trailer. To many travelers, a stop for repairs in Needles is a recipe for disaster. For me, it is always a pleasure. Although my first visit to the Desert View Mobil Station in Needles was of necessity, not choice, over the ensuing years I have stopped there often. After my first visit, I realized that it was not just a gas station in the desert. Instead, I found that their prices for tires and repairs were fair and that their service was exemplary. Since then, I always try to stop there for trailer tires, fuel or repairs.

 

In 2008, when I purchased four tires and replaced the suspension links on my Pioneer trailer, Desert View Mobil offered me a lifetime warranty on their work. In February 2009, when I last required brake service on my travel trailer, regular gasoline was $2.89 per gallon. In May 2011, when I pulled in, regular gasoline was $4.89 per gallon. With failing brakes on my coach, I hoped that their warranty was still in effect. As I pulled in, Ricky the mechanic came out to the service island and surveyed my rig. Although we both looked a couple of years older, we recognized each other immediately. After describing my problem, he invited me to pull around the station for a ‘look see’.

 

Two hours later, I was on the road again, confident that my rig was up to the task of a two thousand mile trip. During my brief stay, Ricky diagnosed and fixed my brake system, while others in the crew balanced my wheels and replaced one valve stem. Then, Ricky lubricated all of the fittings on the suspension links he had installed three years prior. Upon completion, I expected to pay for the wheel balancing, the valve stem and the lubrication. After completing his work, Ricky washed up, came out front and surprised me by saying, “No Charge”. And that is why Desert View Mobil, in Needles, California continues to earn my business.

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By James McGillis at 02:48 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

A Mojave Desert Transit - 2011

 

A Mojave Desert Transit

The day started with four hours of packing for my 4-Corners trip. By 1:15 PM, I pulled away from Casa Carrie, with my Pioneer travel trailer in tow. As floodwater rose in the Atchafalaya Basin, I headed out of LA through the high desert, via the Pearblossom Highway. On the north slope of the San Gabriel Mountains, clouds of snow obscured several peaks. In late May, avalanche chutes were thick with fresh snow. It was 56 degrees on the highway, so 32 degrees at higher elevation was not a stretch.

 

On high desert cruise control, I was doing 60 mph on approach to Victorville. Deflecting the blur of Burger Kings and McDonalds from my eyes, I blew through town and headed north on Interstate I-15. My next stop was Love’s truck stop in Barstow, for fuel and a leftover chicken leg from last night’s dinner.

 

Taking Interstate I-40 East, towards Needles, CA, I picked up a tailwind, pushing me forward at 40 mph. Other Magellan GPS users might be familiar with the dreaded “Ludlow Dead Zone”. Perhaps it correlates with the big Ludlow earthquake in 2008. Since that time, I cannot transit in either direction between Ludlow and Needles without a major malfunction on my Magellan Crossover GPS. Not only does the screen freeze, but also a big red “X” appears over the usual green of the satellite indicator bars. Twenty minutes and twenty miles later, I resuscitated the device and got it working again. Am I the only Magellan GPS owner in the country who repeatedly hits the Ludlow Dead Zone? I do not want to attribute this strange phenomenon to paranormal activity, so I hope someone will step forward and comment on all of this.

 

Shortly after getting my GPS back on beam, I exited I-40 East at Essex Road, about 30 miles short of Needles. After another 20 miles on somewhat rough roads, I achieved my destiny, which was to arrive safely at Hole in the Wall Campground in the Mojave National Preserve. Thank you, Senator Diane Feinstein for championing the cause of 3.5 million acres of fragile and beautiful landscape. To stay here for but one night is to know both the wind and the beauty of our Desert Southwest.

 

According to my indoor/outdoor thermometer, after sunset the temperature here dropped one degree every ten minutes for the hour that I paid attention. In the low 60’s at sunset, it is 46 degrees now at 1:00 AM. The wind, which fell at dusk, plays now among the roof ornaments on my coach.

 

My only media tonight consisted of an AT&T 3G-voice connection and my Verizon 3G “MiFi 2200” wireless data card. No TV… thank goodness. When was the last time any of us spent 24-hours or more disconnected from all interactive media? My last foray off the grid was for two days, over two years ago, at Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. In three days, I shall be in Chaco Canyon again, studying the ruins and reveling in my disconnectedness.

 

During my previous visits there, I wrote several articles about the place on my blog. Having recently learned the term, “pre-Puebloan” from the author, Craig Childs, I used it in my 2008 article about the Kin Klizhin ruin near Chaco Canyon. Less than three years later, if you Google “Kin Klizhin”, that article appears on page three of the web results. If you then click on “images”, my pictures of Kin Klizhin are interspersed throughout the first five pages. Alternatively, if you Google “pre-Puebloan”, my 2008 article on Kin Klizhin is second only to the Wikipedia article which defines the term. Switching to image-results, two of the first five pictures are my own.

 

I write about these search results not to feed my own ego, but to tell “dear reader” that he or she can stake a claim on their favorite word or phrase and then see the results of their labor (or passion) in almost no time. The secret is to write with originality, publish your own pictures and then… go back and do it all again (and again).

 

For the next several weeks, that is exactly what I plan to do – travel throughout the Four Corners and write about what I see, hear and feel. Please join me as I explore the last American frontier and the deserts of our mind.

Email James McGillis

 

By James McGillis at 01:28 AM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link