A 1965 Visit to Edward Abbey's old Glen Canyon and Rainbow Bridge National Monument - 2012

 

A 1965 Visit to Edward Abbey's old Glen Canyon and Rainbow Bridge National Monument

In 1965, when I was seventeen years old, my father and I embarked on a Four Corners States Grand Circle Tour. After our visit to Moab, Utah, including old Arches National Monument, the Book Cliffs and Dead Horse Point, we traveled south. I shall save our stops at the Goosenecks of the San Juan River and Monument Valley for later. First, I shall discuss our visit to Lake Powell and Rainbow Bridge National Monument.

Although Edward Abbey’s seminal book, Desert Solitaire did not appear in print until 1968, I shall quote from that book regarding Glen Canyon and Rainbow Bridge. Construction of the Glen Canyon Dam topped out in late 1963. When we visited in 1965, the lake appeared to be about half full. Years earlier, Edward Abbey and his friend, Ralph Newcomb, had rafted down the yet untamed Colorado River through Glen Canyon. Leaving Newcomb at the river, Abbey had hiked to Rainbow Bridge. Abbey’s visit there was an early 1960’s whitewater, wilderness experience. Ours visit was a mid-1960’s powerboat cruise on a placid lake.

Glen Canyon – Like no other occurrence in Edward Abbey’s life, the inundation of Glen Canyon created a psychic scar in the man. He knew that Glen Canyon Dam was the first of three new dams then planned for the Lower Colorado Basin. His determination not to let another Colorado River dam arise became the meta-theme of his book, The Monkey Wrench Gang. Using various characters in that book as a thinly veiled foil, Abbey expressed his own latent desire to eradicate Glen Canyon Dam.

Years before, in Desert Solitaire, Abbey wrote eloquently about a wilderness now submerged, hundreds of feet below the Lake Powell we know today. Following are his words.

Page 122, “We were exploring a deep dungeonlike defile off Glen Canyon one time (before the dam). The defile turned and twisted like a snake under overhangs and interlocking walls so high, so close, that for most of the way I could not see the sky.”

Page 152, “I know, because I was one of the lucky few (there could have been thousands more) who saw Glen Canyon before it was drowned, In fact I saw only a part of it but enough to realize that here was an Eden, a portion of the earth’s original paradise.”

Page 156, “That must be where Trachyte Creek comes in,” I explain; “if we had life jackets with us it might be a good idea to put them on now.” Actually our ignorance and carelessness are more deliberate than accidental; we are entering Glen Canyon…”

Page 157, “If this is the worst Glen Canyon has to offer, we agree, give us more of the same. In a few minutes the river obliges; a second group of rapids appears, wild as the first. Forewarned and overcautious this time, despite ourselves, we paddle too far…”

Page 185, “Farther still into the visionary world of Glen Canyon, talking somewhat less than before - for what is there to say? I think we have said it all – we communicate less in words and more in direct denotations, the glance, the pointing hand, the subtle nuances of pipe smoke, the tilt of a wilted hat brim.”

Page 188, “The sun, close to the horizon, shines through the clear air beneath the cloud layers, illuminating the soft variations of rose, vermilion, umber, slate blue, the complex features and details, defined sharply by shadow, of the Glen Canyon Landscape.”

Rainbow Bridge – By definition, a “natural arch” spans an area of dry land. In contrast, a “natural bridge” spans a watercourse. At remote Rainbow Bridge National Monument, a stone torus known as Rainbow Bridge is the most celebrated landform. Before Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell, the only way to see Rainbow Bridge was on a river raft expedition. A visit there involved a long wet trip up or down the Colorado River, followed by a tedious, uphill hike at the end. Located almost fifty water-miles upstream from Glen Canyon Dam, Rainbow Bridge now resides in a short side canyon, off Lake Powell.

After our long boat ride from Wahweap Marina, near Page, Arizona, our skipper tied up at a floating dock. When the lake was full, the story went; lake water would rise almost to the base of Rainbow Bridge. In 1965, however, we had over two miles of hiking before cresting a ridge and seeing the immutable stone arch called Rainbow Bridge.

Other than a flood in the summer of 1983, Lake Powell has never been full. There are few 1983 photos showing lake water lapping near the base of Rainbow Bridge. Today, perennially lower lake levels call into question the dam’s main reason for being, which is to generate electricity. In late 2012, the U.S. Department of the Interior admitted what longtime observers of the Glen Canyon Dam have known for decades – that drought, climate change and over-subscription of available water will result in permanently lower water levels in Lake Powell and throughout the Colorado River Basin.

In 1965, when I asked our skipper if he preferred the ease of lake travel to a rafting trip, he tactfully said that each method of conveyance had its advantages. He went on to say, he would have preferred that Glen Canyon stay as it had been before the dam. As it was, on our visit, we hiked to Rainbow Bridge over hot, dry land, just as Edward Abbey had done years before. Following are passages from Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire, describing his raft trip down the Colorado River to Rainbow Bridge.

Page 186, “We pass the mouth of a large river entering the Colorado River from the east – the San Juan River. Somewhere not far beyond this confluence, if I recall my Powell rightly, is the opening to what he named Music Temple. “When ‘Old Shady’ sings us a song at night,” wrote Powell in 1869, “we are pleased to find that this hollow in the rock is filled with sweet sounds”.”

Page 188, “The river carries us past more side canyons, each of which I inspect for signs of a trail, a clue to Rainbow Bridge. But I find nothing, so far, though we know we are getting close.

Page 192, “Rainbow Bridge seems neither less nor greater than what I had foreseen. My second sensation is the feeling of guilt. Newcomb. Why had I not insisted on his coming? Why did I not grab him by the long strands of his savage beard and haul him up the trail, bearing him when necessary like Christopher would across the stream, stumbling from stone to stone, and dump him finally under the bridge, leaving him…

Page 193, “But I am diverted by a faint pathway which looks as if it might lead up out of the canyon, above Rainbow Bridge. Late afternoon, the canyon filling with shadows – I should not try it. I take it anyway, climbing a talus slope.

Page 193, “From up here Rainbow Bridge, a thousand feet below, is only a curving ridge of sandstone of no undue importance, a tiny object lost in the vastness and intricacy of the canyon systems which radiate from the base of Navajo Mountain.

Page 239, “Through twilight and moonlight I climb down to the rope, down to the ledge, down to the canyon floor below Rainbow Bridge. Bats flicker through the air. Fireflies sparkle by the water-seeps and miniature toads with enormous voices clank and grunt and chant at me as I tramp past their ponds down the long trail back to the river, back to the campfire and companionship and a midnight supper.

From Wahweap Marina, near Glen Canyon Dam, to Rainbow Bridge is about sixteen miles, as the crow flies. On the lake, our circuitous canyon route was nearly three times as long. As we drank Cokes from steel cans along the way, the cognoscenti told us that we should punch a hole in the bottom of each can before throwing it in the lake. That way, the cans could sink, rather than bobbing half-full on the surface for years to come. Although a nationwide ethic of recycling was still decades away, I pictured snags of drowned trees far below, each festooned with Coke and beer can ornaments.

From 1965, it would be over a decade before Abbey’s motley cast of fictional characters wreaked havoc with infrastructure and land development throughout San Juan County, Utah. To read about those queasily exciting adventures in incipient eco-activism (some say eco-terrorism), please watch for my upcoming treatise on Edward Abbey's book, The Monkey Wrench Gang. When posted, you will find it HERE.

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By James McGillis at 05:27 PM | Colorado River | Comments (0) | Link

A 1965 Visit With My Father to Old Arches National Monument, Moab, Utah - 2012

 

A 1965 Visit With My Father to

Old Arches National Monument, Moab, Utah

“Wilderness – we scarcely know what we mean by the term, though the sound of it draws all whose nerves and emotions have not yet been irreparably stunned, deadened, numbed by the caterwauling of commerce, the sweating scramble for profit and domination. Why such allure in the very word?” – Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

During two seasons in the late 1950s, Edward Abbey took up residence in a trailer at the old Arches National Monument. Over fifty-five years later, exactly where Edward Abbey's trailer stood is a subject of controversy. As the least likely government employee ever, Abbey was the park ranger who kept things clean and neat out at the end of the road. There, near Devil’s Garden, Abbey observed the timelessness landforms and a rapidly changing political landscape. The only hint of his future status as a proto-anarcho-communist environmentalist came in this passage from his 1968 book, Desert Solitaire.

Page 59, “For about five miles I followed the course of their survey back toward headquarters, and as I went I pulled up each little wooden stake and threw it away, and cut all the bright ribbons from the bushes and hid them under a rock. A futile effort, in the long run, but it made me feel good.”

In 1965, my father, Dr. Loron N. (Duke) McGillis and I visited many of the places that Abbey was to make famous in Desert Solitaire or in his most famous fiction work, The Monkey Wrench Gang. In Desert Solitaire, Abbey wrote with wry humor about tourists abusing even the sacred walls of a national monument. The somewhat sickening, yet heart-pounding acts of eco-sabotage came later, in The Monkey Wrench Gang and its various sequels. This article, largely in Abbey’s own words focuses on the kinder, gentler author we first met on the pages of Desert Solitaire.

Landscape Arch – In 1965, my father and I hiked the unimproved trail to Landscape Arch. Although far more delicate than the arch named Delicate Arch, we found no fence or other barriers to climbing up the hill and under that gracefully suspended stone slab. Stopping short of the arch itself, our instincts were good. One afternoon, twenty-six years later, picnickers sitting beneath the arch barely scrambled away from a mighty rock fall there.

Near that spot, my father positioned his Nikon camera to show both Landscape Arch and the smaller Partition Arch above and to its right, near the rim. As I reviewed old Kodak Ektachrome slides of our time there, I was not sure if the second arch was real, or just a flaw in the 35-MM film. After pouring over fifteen pages of Google images, I found only two photographs that included Partition Arch in the same shot. I wonder where that photo spot is. It would be nice if Arches National Park could provide a protected path to the spot where those rare photos originated.

Page 37, “I reach the end of the road and walk the deserted trail to Landscape Arch and Double-O Arch, picking up a few candy wrappers left from the weekend, straightening a trail sign which somebody had tried to remove, noting another girdled and bleeding pinion pine, obliterating from a sandstone wall the pathetic scratchings of some imbeciles who had attempted to write their names across the face of the Mesozoic.”

Page 267, “In the government truck I make a final tour of the park, into the Devil’s Garden where I walk for the last time this year out the trail past Tunnel Arch, Pine Tree Arch and Landscape Arch, all the way out to Double-O Arch at the end of the path.”

Book Cliffs – Thirty-five miles north of Moab, Utah stand the majestic Book Cliffs. From Green River to the west, past Crescent Junction in the middle and on to Thompson Springs to the east, they parallel both the Union Pacific Railroad mainline and Interstate I-70. Stark in their appearance, the Book Cliffs angle of repose is too steep and the terrain too dry to support more than sparse vegetation. In broad daylight, as our 1965 image shows, the Cretaceous sandstone capping the cliffs stand tall and unbroken, like the skyline of a major city. In Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey often mentions the Book Cliffs.

Page 4, “On the north and northwest I see the Roan Cliffs and the Book Cliffs, the two-level face of the Uintah Plateau.”
 
Page 23, “I refer to the garden which lies all around me, extending from here to the mountains, from here to the Book Cliffs, from here to Robbers’ Roost and Land’s End, an area about the size of the Negev.”

Page 118, “Mornings begin clear and dazzling bright, the sky as blue as the Virgin’s cloak, unflawed by a trace of cloud in all of that emptiness bounded on the North by the Book Cliffs.”

Page 269, “For a few minutes the whole region from the canyon of the Colorado to the Book Cliffs – crag, mesa, turret, dome, canyon wall, plain swale and dune – glows with a vivid amber light against the darkness on the east.”

Dead Horse Point – If you have seen the Movie Cars, you know Dead Horse Point. After visiting Moab while on vacation, Pixar director John Lasseter copied whole scenes from that place and etched them into the minds of millions. What those movie viewers may not realize is that Lasseter got it right. The view from Dead Horse Point to the Shafer Trail and beyond to the Colorado River looks impossible in its depth, yet you can recognize it in the movie.

In 1965, the landscape did look different than it does today. Below, in a place called Potash, the Texas Gulf Sulphur Company was only two years into conventional mining of Potash salts. With its processing facility hidden upstream, the Paradox Basin anticline still looked pristine. Readers will also note that my father had a penchant for tempting fate, standing within only a few feet of the precipice. A few times on our trip, he convinced me to do the same. Today, I would chalk that up to youthful exuberance.

Not until 1970, five years after our visit, did the now famous blue settling ponds appear on bench land above the Colorado River. From then on, solution mining, or hydraulic fracking of the anticline salt beds continued in earnest. In Desert Solitaire, Abbey focuses on several aspects of Dead Horse Mesa, but not the potash mine or its future risk to the environment.

Page 11, “…of Dead Horse Mesa, a flat-topped uninhabited island in the sky which extends for thirty miles north and south between the convergent canyons of the Green and Colorado rivers. Public domain. Above the mesa the sun hangs behind streaks and streamers of wind-whipped clouds.”

Page 66, “Finally he was discovered ten days after the search began near an abandoned miner’s shack below Dead Horse Point. They found him sitting on the ground hammering feebly at an ancient can of beans, trying to open the can with a stone.”

Page 209, “…for the diversion, I throw canteens and rucksack into the government pickup and take off. I go west to the highway, south for three miles, and turn off on another dirt road leading southwest across Dead Horse Mesa toward the rendezvous.

Page 219, “Getting late; the sun is down beyond Back-of-the-Rocks, beyond the escarpment of Dead Horse Point. A soft pink mist of light, the alpenglow, lies on the (La Sal) mountains above timberline. I hurry on, south of Moab, off the highway on the gravel…”

Page 223, “There is no trail and many dead and fallen trees make progress difficult… Dead Horse Point and Grandview Point, and farther away, farthest of all, wonderfully remote, the Orange Cliffs, Lands’ End and the Maze, an exhilarating vastness…”

Page 265, “Enough of Land’s End, Dead Horse Point, Tukuhnikivats, and the other high resolves; I want to see somebody jump out of a window or off a roof. I grow weary of nobody’s company but my own – let me hear the wit and wisdom of the subway…”

While on our 1965 Grand Tour of the Four Corners states, my father and I had many adventures. As a teenager from California, I did not expect ever to see such exotic desert and mountain landscapes again. Not until 2006, over thirty years later did I again visit Moab, Arches, Canyonlands and Dead Horse Point. Although the political and demographic landscape had changed, the timeless beauty of Edward Abbey’s realm had not.

In Part 2 of my 1965 saga, my father, Duke McGillis and I visit Lake Powell and Rainbow Bridge. To read that next chapter, please click HERE.

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By James McGillis at 01:25 PM | | Comments (0) | Link

Not For Us, But For Our Children and Grandchildren... - 2012

 

Not For Us, But For Our Children and Grandchildren...

Message from a friend - “The shooter in Conn. killed at least 27, 20 were children. Unbelievable! Makes me want to go and hug all the grand-kids.

I am hopeful this type of action will start changing minds, as there has to be an answer to these terrible crimes. It certainly leaves people vulnerable to crimes, even when they do their best to stay away from crime.”

AAMikael’s Response - “How many parents in America were against gun control until this morning?

It is time for a change in this country. Yet, so many are hidebound against resale-control, bullet & magazine control, not to mention assault weapon control… let alone ‘gun control’ itself, whatever that is.

It is the ‘gun tragedy of the day’. Sadly, only such shocking violence, conducted against children has a prayer-of-a-chance of changing enough minds to make a difference.

As Neil Young wrote and sang so many years ago, ‘What if you knew her and found her dead on the ground? How can you run when you know?’

On this day, twenty-seven angels departed Earth. As it is above, so it is below. After the tears, all will be well.

In love, Light and life,

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By James McGillis at 02:01 PM | Personal Articles | Comments (0) | Link

A Costantino Proietto Masterpiece Passes to a New Generation - 2012

 

A Costantino Proietto Masterpiece Passes to a New Generation

In November 2012, Mrs. Shelly Jenkins of Orlando, Florida wrote to me about a Costantino Proietto painting that she had recently inherited. Her great, great aunt, Ms. Marian J. Fortune of Brevard, North Carolina had died in May 2012 at age seventy-nine. In her will and bequeathed to Shelly Jenkins was one of only two known Costantino Proietto original oil paintings of Bad Kreuznach, Germany. The other features the medieval and marvelous bridge houses, built over the Nahe River.

For eight years during the 1950’s and 1960’s, Ms. Fortune was a Physical Education Teacher for the U.S. Department of Defense School for American Dependents, in Bad Kreuznach. After World War II, the artist exhibited his paintings at Allied bases and later at NATO base post exchanges. On the back of this painting reads, a “DM 360.” pencil marking might represent a price of 360 Deutschmark.

According to cousin, Nunzio LoCastro, as early as 1951, a Costantino Proietto’s painting could command a price of 200 Deutschmark. If Marian Fortune was in Bad Kreuznach in 1964, the “Pro 11364” pencil marking on the back might represent a purchase date of November 3, 1964. With inflation and ongoing recognition of the artist’s work, DM 360 would be a reasonable price for a 40” X 20” C.Proietto original oil painting at that time.

If such was the case, it is likely that Costantino Proietto himself sold this painting to Ms. Fortune. After all, Bad Kreuznach and the artist’s studio in Stuttgart were little more than two hours away from each other. The tag and wax seal affixed to the back of the painting are consistent with his other 1960’s works. The 40” X 20” (a 4:2 aspect ratio) is similar to other Tino Proietto 1960’s “CinemaScope” style paintings. Most of his earlier works had a 4:3 aspect ratio, which is similar 35-mm film. The flattened horizontal lines within the artist’s signature are consistent with his later works, when his signature became more stylized.

Although many C.Proietto landscapes display a romantic or timeless quality, to my knowledge the artist painted only real places. Although I am not aware of its exact location, the painting probably depicts a river scene in Bad Kreuznach. Since the artist worked from both photographs and sketches, this painting may have originated from either or both of those sources.

Even when darkened with dust or soot, Tino Proietto’s paintings age with grace. Although there is some darkening in the sky and several small chips or spills on the canvas, a good technician could remove those without damaging the overall piece. Older canvases may be dry and brittle, so avoiding impacts to their surfaces is especially important. By mixing cigarette ashes into his pigments, Costantino Proietto often “pre-aged” his paintings. For that reason, I would not suggest a full-scale restoration of the painting. Doing so may destroy more value than it creates.

Looking at the back, frame construction appears to be of particleboard, which was inexpensive at the time. In order to bring out the full beauty of the painting, I suggest a professional re-framing. The framer should use extreme caution while separating the canvas from the frame. Upon separation from the frame, some long-dried paint may lift from the canvas.

This painting of Bad Kreuznach exhibits Proietto’s penchant for foreground (water grasses), middle ground (various buildings) and then a fade into the background (mountains/sky). The two red-tiled buildings in the upper-right and the blue-roofed building on the left received a heavier dose of impasto (palate knife) technique. Note the red flowers on the balconies and walls. Almost every C.Proietto landscape features red flowers somewhere in the canvas. Also, note the realistic appearance of the buildings in the center of the painting. Close inspection shows that the artist used very few strokes to create the effect. To see a C.Proietto painting in all of its glory, I suggest good natural light and a viewing distance of about ten feet.

As with each C.Proietto I have ever seen, this is a timeless and beautiful painting. As a collector of the artist’s work, I pictured it hanging on my wall. After I made an offer to purchase the Jenkins Family C.Proietto, Shelly Jenkins wrote back, saying, “We were so thrilled when we heard that Marian Fortune willed the painting to us. We did not get much opportunity to visit with her during her lifetime and her thought was memorable”. Although Shelly Jenkins would not sell her C.Proietto mid-century masterpiece, I thank her for offering to share her painting with the world.

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By James McGillis at 06:34 PM | Fine Art | Comments (0) | Link

Superstorm Sandy Dictates a New Approach to Atlantic Coastal Development - 2012

 

Superstorm Sandy Dictates a New Approach to Atlantic Coastal Development

In March 2011, I wrote a four-part article on the implications of Atlantis on our current culture. Using my vortexual theory of history, I compared the concept of Atlantean-elite thinking to our treatment of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Without repeating all that I said about New Orleans being the new Atlantis, I can now update those concepts with new information. When Superstorm Sandy barreled up the East Coast of the United States, she trailed a banner reading, “Here I come. Are you ready for the New Atlantis?”

The myth of Atlantis is a cautionary tale. It is about a proud, arrogant elite dominating a culture and denying the changes to its own climate and its own mortality. As the Atlantean culture sank beneath the ocean waves, the elites denied their problem until it was too late. Like Atlantis, the lessons of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans remain obscure. Now, with Superstorm Sandy fresh on our minds, we have another chance to learn from disaster. If we learn our lessons, we may chart a better course for the future of the Mid-Atlantic region.

For now, I will leave it to others to judge whether the initial search, recovery and disaster relief efforts were well planned and executed. Here in the West, the impact of Superstorm Sandy has been minimal. Media reports only hint at the deprivation and discomfort that many still feel. While writing this article, I stopped to send the text message “Redcross” to 90999. With that action, I donated $10 to relief efforts in the wake of Superstorm Sandy.

In the aftermath of Katrina, disorganization, waste, fraud, graft and corruption drained away assets and energy from legitimate hurricane relief. Although it was obvious to many that New Orleans would never return to its pre-Katrina size, shape and population, our collective consciousness demanded otherwise. In the ensuing years, we saw formaldehyde-laced trailers brought in for displaced families. Actor Brad Pitt's architecturalcompetition attempted to create homes that could withstand Katrina type flooding. Like monuments to old energy thinking, a few Brad Pitt Houses now stand, waiting for their test in the next big hurricane.

When Hurricane Katrina led to collapse of levees around New Orleans, the flooding was quick and deep. Residents caught in the flood either found their way to attics and roofs, or drowned in their own homes. Wind did not cause most of the damage, but rather it was the onslaught of deep water. Now, over seven years later, we hear of people trapped in their homes on Staten Island and other low-lying places near the shore. This time, wind-driven storm surge multiplied the effects of an astronomical high tide. Unlike New Orleans under Katrina, huge waves pummeled the mid-Atlantic shoreline.

After Katrina, roofs of intact houses poked above the floodwater. Along the beaches of New Jersey, wave action and tidal surge ripped homes off their foundations. Water and wind sent them inland, battering against their defenseless neighbors. After Sandy, near the shoreline, many houses no longer exist. Soon enough, the focus will turn to “rebuilding” homes and neighborhoods. To that, I ask the question, “Rebuilding what, where and how?”

Many yearn for the nostalgia of the old coastline, with its cottages, piers and amusement parks. Sentimental people will want to rebuild the old communities exactly as they were. Politicians will pander to those desires. With sufficient political pressure, Congress will authorize billions of dollars to rebuild shoreline housing. Climate Change deniers will deem Superstorm Sandy an anomaly, unrelated to human-caused degradation of the Earth’s atmosphere. With reconstruction funds available, the profit motive will once again try to dominate legitimate environmental concerns.

In my 2011 Atlantis articles, I advocated for an apolitical, environment-first approach to disaster recovery. By then, it was too late to bring rational thinking to the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Soon after Superstorm Sandy is the best time to discuss our long-term response and recovery plans. Stakeholders include homeowners, local, state and federal governments, plus all U.S. citizens. After all, we the taxpayers will ultimately pay most of the bill for both cleanup and rebuilding. Here I propose a new solution for rebuilding residential properties most vulnerable to mid-Atlantic storm surge.

First, we need a complete review of the federal flood insurance program for the affected area. No one in the new floodplain should rebuild under existing flood insurance programs. The flood maps were inadequate and the potential for future destruction in those areas is high. If anyone rebuilds in a Sandy-flooded area, it should be at his or her own expense and risk, not at the risk of all.

Second, new flood maps must include more than the area flooded by Superstorm Sandy. In 2012, most of what remained of the Greenland ice cap melted away. In the next few years, both polar ice caps may be gone. New flood maps for the mid-Atlantic region should include the consequent sea level rise. With a realistic flood map, we can begin the redevelopment of residential properties not deemed in imminent peril.

Third, we need to demand new structures that make sense to build and insure. As the beaches of New Jersey now show us, rebuilding with wood-frame houses is out of the question. Built on piles, a Brad Pitt House is still vulnerable to high winds. The best way to rebuild would be with rapidly relocatable or mobile housing. Although new standards for durability, insulation and storm worthiness would be necessary, the following is what I propose.

As in Paris under Napoleon, authorities would need to cut new access roads wide enough for manufactured homes to travel inland. Similar to those in an RV A residential lot would feature a concrete pad to support the home and utility service connections. The utilities would need to withstand wind, rain and salt-water immersion. To avoid the threat of fire, both natural gas and electrical services should have smart meters that feature remote shut-off capabilities. The actual housing could be of several different types.

For the most vulnerable lots, housing should be highly mobile. In most cases, a Class-A motorhome would suffice. Likewise, a fifth-wheel motorhome would work on vulnerable lots, but a pickup truck capable of towing the fifth wheel would have to be on scene. Monthly road tests should be required. If a storm appeared, the owner could disconnect from the water, gas and electric in less than an hour. Within two hours, the mobile summer cottage could be well inland and out of harm’s way.

For those who want a more substantial dwelling, an axle and wheel-mounted manufactured home would suffice. The recreational vehicle (RV) industry designates many such dwellings as “park models”. Since these dwellings would move only in the event of an emergency, attention to hitch-type and wheel/tire durability would be essential. If planned properly, any over-the-road tractor could tow these manufactured homes to safety. For these larger units, turning radius, ground clearance and inland storage locations would be important. In case of emergency, regional plans for towing these larger units to safety would need to be in place.

The alternative to creating mobile seaside villages would be to rebuild with vulnerable permanent structures or forgo rebuilding entirely. During the recent presidential campaign, both sides talked about bringing manufacturing jobs back to America. The best way to do so is by upgrading the factory-built home and RV industries. In the U.S., RV's and manufactured homes have no foreign competition. To redevelop mid-Atlantic shoreline housing with anything but relocatable dwellings and weather-resistant infrastructure would be sheer folly.

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By James McGillis at 10:12 AM | Environment | Comments (1) | Link

A Rare 1954 Beech B-45 (AKA T-34A) Arrives at Moab, Utah in 2012

 

A Rare 1954 Beech B-45 (AKA T-34A) Arrives at Moab, Utah

On October 2, 2012, I was at Canyonlands Field, Moab, Utah fixing the webcam at Redtail Aviation. For unknown reasons, the MoabAirlines.com webcam had gone dark just a few weeks before. Although it would take several more trips to fix the webcam, I decided to stop work when an unusual airplane arrived on the tarmac. Over the roar of an engine, one of the mechanics said, “It’s a T-34A”.

By the time I had walked to the transient tie-down area, the engine had stopped and the pilot was on the ground, retrieving his tie-down equipment. “That was fast”, I said as he and his companion continued their work. I told him that I was always looking for another unusual aircraft to photograph and that this was a good candidate. Without stopping his work for more than a moment, he consented to my request.

With flawless gray paint, the number “021” and the words “U.S. Air Force” on the airplane’s narrow fuselage, I felt like I had stepped back into the early 1950’s. The Air Force banded-star logo and a diagonal checkerboard pattern on the tail looked authentic to me. Only the discreetly painted “N-134FA” painted on low, near the tail indicated that this was a private, not a military aircraft.

With no motorized tug available, the pilot hooked a handle to the nose wheel and pushed. With a slight uphill grade before him, I was surprised how quickly he got the heavy airplane moving. When he came almost to a halt, he asked his companion for some help. Soon, the couple had the plane positioned in its place on the tarmac. As I mentioned the unpredictable and erratic winds that sometimes visit Canyonlands Field, the pilot quickly chained each wing to a metal loop, cast into a concrete pad below.

As they worked, I noticed more details on the airplane. There was a robust, retractable tricycle landing gear. On each wingtip, there was a small, aerodynamic tank, which added to on-board fuel reserves. Built for strength more than speed, most of the rivets on the fuselage featured round heads, which protruded from the metal skin. In various places, especially on the wings, more aerodynamic flush-rivets had replaced the old round-headed ones. Earlier, it appeared, this plane had received an overhaul of its airframe. The three-point prop and its shiny spinner bespoke of a recent engine overhaul or replacement.

Soon, the canopy cover was on, special cushions sealed the engine air intakes and the crew of two was ready to depart. As if on cue, a van pulled up and an adventure outfitter chauffeured them to their next destination. In about twenty minutes, this couple had landed, tied down their airplane and departed. As if the airplane flight was not enough for this adventurous couple, they had an afternoon hike planned in the Canyonlands near Moab.

If you see an airplane and wonder, “Who owns that?” copy down the “N-Number”, which is found on or near the tail. Access the internet and go to the Federal Aviation Agency (FAA) Search Page. Type in the N-Number and then click “Submit”. In a moment or two, you will receive a summary of the airplane in question, including its type, age and ownership. Although I had given a business card to the pilot, Moab can be a distracting place, so perhaps he lost my card or forgot to write.

When I conducted a FAA search on “N-134FA”, I found many interesting details about the supposed T-34A aircraft. Although similar to the Air Force designated Beech Model T-34A Mentor that its markings indicated, this aircraft was actually a Beech Model B-45, manufactured in 1954. As a Beech B-45 of that particular vintage, it was a U. S. manufactured military trainer intended for sale to the export market. Current registration for the airplane is by Fast Aircraft, Inc. in Scottsdale, Arizona. Beyond that, I will have to wait for the pilot or his crew to see this posting and provide new or better information.

After publication of this article, we heard from owner and pilot Todd McCutchan. Following are his comments:

Hi Jim,

So it is a 1954 Beech T-34A (B-45). The B-45 was the export version of the T-34A which was built for the USAF. My particular aircraft went down to Chile where it was used to train fighter pilots and was outfitted with gun pods / bomb racks to gunnery / bombing training and perhaps some light ground attack.

It was returned to the USA in as a group of 20+ other T-34’s that were negotiated to be purchased by a private USA company in 1990. Since then it has been heavily modified and restored. The original 225 hp engine has been replaced with a 285 hp engine and all of the avionics, wiring, electrical system have been updated and most other systems have been overhauled or replaced.

I am the 2nd owner since its return to the USA and purchased the aircraft in 2009. My wife and I fly it around the USA where we participate in airshows and fly-ins as well as give rides to young people hoping for a career in the air and returning veterans to the air.

I have a written a few articles about the T-34 and its history which you will find here and here.

Kind regards,
Todd McCutchan
Fast Aircraft
T-34A - N134FA

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Loron N. McGillis Visits Bill Smith at His Howell Mountain Vineyard - 2012

 

Loron N. McGillis Visits Bill Smith at His Howell Mountain Vineyard

In September 2012, I watched as two old friends greeted each other in the warm California sun. While touring the Napa Valley with my father, Duke McGillis * and Carrie McCoy, we decided to visit the W.H. Smith Winery in the hills of Howell Mountain, east of the hamlet of Angwin. As he shook hands with W.H. (Bill) Smith **, my father reminisced, “Bill, I first met you and your wife, Joan in 1978”.

In those days Bill & Joan Smith lived in a century-old farmhouse at La Jota Vineyards, a few miles down the hill from where we stood. Subdivided from the original Spanish land grant of the same name, La Jota featured an 1898 gravity-fed, fieldstone winery. Despite the remaining early infrastructure, Howell Mountain had seen little wine produced or bottled since the Great Depression. Although the history of viticulture in around Howell Mountain was rich, the place was little-known to most wine critics, consumers and historians.

On July 4, 1978, I had the pleasure of attending the first La Jota Vineyards holiday barbecue. This annual event later achieved near cult status among the Smith’s friends and neighbors. Arriving a day early, we slept overnight in sleeping bags out in a small pasture. The next morning, Bill Smith used his new Kubota tractor to dig a pit for slow-roasting crabs or lobsters over the coals.

Several years later, during another celebration at the old farmhouse, Bill’s fine new Howell Mountain Estate - La Jota Cabernet Sauvignon flowed freely. Dinner that night was to be poached salmon. My father’s wife, the late Joyce McGillis had what must have been a twenty-pound salmon poaching atop the stove. When we finally wrestled the huge fish onto a cutting board, the first slice told us that the fish was still raw. Somehow, we got that huge fish back into the boiling water. The second time we tried it, the entire fish was poached to perfection. Since fish, wine and miracles go well together, we all broke bread, toasted to our chef and enjoyed the meal.

In his early days of wine making, Bill Smith was an admitted amateur at the craft. If something was not going well in the old stone winery, he studied it, and then fixed the problem. If the problem was beyond his own expertise, he sought qualified help. Bill's strategy of continuous improvement worked well. Critics and consumers alike enjoyed each new vintage of La Jota Cabernet Sauvignon. Those on the vineyard’s mailing list enjoyed limited releases of exotic varietals such as Viognier and Nebbiolo. While Cabernet Sauvignon remained the basis of La Jota’s fame, respect for the label grew. In 2001, the prestigious Markham Vineyards purchased Bill and Joan Smith’s La Jota Vineyard Company.

Not only critics and consumers loved the flavor concentration and firm structure of a Howell Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon. Historians, as well looked at the viticultural history of Howell Mountain. On its eroded and forested plateau, Howell Mountain had more vines planted in 1900 than it does today. Based on research by wine historian Charles Sullivan, Howell Mountain became the first sub-appellation to the Napa Valley. In 1983, Howell Mountain received recognition as an American Viticultural Area (AVA). Bill and Joan Smith’s leadership in reviving Howell Mountain as a premium wine making area helped make that prestigious designation possible.

In 2003, my father and I traveled again to Howell Mountain. This time it was to see the Smith’s new home, winery and vineyards. Their new place was only a mile or so up the road from their old La Jota Vineyards. Their beautiful new house featured a permanent barbeque pit large enough for a whole roast pig. On the next July 4, there would no need to dig a hole with a tractor. With its long view to the Napa Valley below, the Smith’s new Piedra Hill Vineyard looked like a sure winner. Later, when the Smiths purchased a Pinot Noir Vineyard in Sonoma County, the Piedra Hill label gave way to the new and current, “W.H. Smith Wines” label.

During our 2003 visit, Bill Smith had just begun his most ambitious construction project. Although Napa Valley vintners could build large-scale production facilities on the flatlands, no commercial building on Howell Mountain could protrude above the ridgeline. In order to create the perfect temperatures for finishing and storage of wine, Bill opted to go underground. With help from the experts, Bill Smith drilled three parallel tunnels into a Howell Mountain hillside. Today, the artificial caves house operations, barrel storage and finished inventory for the winery.

During our September 2012 visit, Joan Smith was in Kauai, conducting business for the winery. After a quick visit to their Spanish style home, we drove a short distance to the caves. After visiting with the office manager, we prepared to leave. Then, in a flash of light, Bill Smith drove up in a new black Chevrolet pickup truck. After greetings all around, Bill admitted in his own humble way, “It is a great vehicle, but I still cannot figure out how all the gadgets work”. Just as he did at La Jota Vineyards thirty-five years ago, I am sure that Bill Smith will figure out how to take full advantage of what his new vehicle has to offer.

* (Author's Note) On February 9, 2013, Dr. Loron N. (Duke) McGillis passed away peacefully, in his sleep, at his home in Berkeley, California.

** (Author's Note) William Howard (Bill) Smith passed away on June 13, 2017 at his home in St Helena, California.

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By James McGillis at 04:26 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link