A Snapshot and the Scoop: "Action!"

This may look like an ancient ruin, but it was actually part of a movie set built in 1965 for "The Professionals." Recognized for it's incredibly geologic formations, many movies and commercials are filmed within the Valley of Fire State Park boundaries, which has caused park rangers to have to carefully manage who gets permits to film so that no lasting environmental impacts are made. I won't lie here, I rarely watch movies and have not seen any of the ones filmed in the park, but just the physical reminder that things like this exist is pretty neat!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Reminders of the Past

Built by the CCC during the Great Depression, three cabins sit against a stone cliff overlooking the part of Valley of Fire State Park. The cabins are made from the same sandstone that's found in the rest of the park, and at first glance it's easy to miss them, which is sort of the point. Used by campers and travelers for years, the cabins now stand as empty reminders of what the CCC accomplished throughout the park, the state of Nevada, and the rest of the country as citizens struggled during the depression.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Shooting Wildife

I had so much fun spotting and following this herd of Desert Bighorn Sheep during my visit to Valley of Fire State Park. Myself and another pair of guys followed the herd by car at first, then when they got closer we pulled over and pulled out our cameras, planting ourselves on the side of the road and watching them graze, wander, and head-butt for a good twenty or so minutes. Although it was bright and sunny out, the wind was blustery and by the time the herd moved off down the valley I was shivering, teeth chattering as I bid the other photographers goodbye. It's always fun to get good shots of animals doing what they naturally do - from the safety of a proper distance and a zoom lens.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Mouse's Tank

In the desert, little shaded pockets of sandstone, usually located in the bottom of canyons, that are filled with perennial water are called "tanks". These tanks are life-saving resources for desert animals and humans alike, such as the Southern Paiute Indian this particular tank located in Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada is named after. "Little Mouse" was a fugitive accused of killing two prospectors, and used this water source while hiding from the law in the late 1800s. Though he was eventually caught and killed, Little Mouse survived for far longer than anyone would have thought in this dry desert, all because he found this tank of water. Today, desert-dwelling animals such as lizards, snakes, mice, and big horn sheep use this water source and others like it to survive where there are no rivers or lakes, and where rain is scarce.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: The Three Corners

Reachable only via (really awesome) four-wheel drive roads, the corners of Arizona, Nevada, and Utah converge out in the middle of the Mojave Desert, not far from the tiny town of Littlefield, Arizona. While not as famous as it's Four Corners counterpart (Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah), the three corners is still a bustling place during good-weather days. It was also the most remote aid station at this year's Grandmasters Ultra race, and I spent a day here with Torrey, Tyler, and Chris while we served runners completing their race. I would probably never have visited this little concrete and metal monument if not for the race, so props to the race directors for giving me a chance to see something new!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Shooting the Moon

As I get more comfortable with my camera I spend more time taking pictures of things I'm less practiced with. Astrophotography, for example. I have very little idea what I'm doing when it comes to taking pictures of the moon and stars, but hey, no time like the present to figure it out. I spent some time during both nights in the desert while volunteering at an aid station for the Grandmaster Ultras in February, trying my hand at shooting the crescent moon. The skies were far too bright, from Saint George, from Mesquite, from Las Vegas, to shoot anything other than the moon, but that was fine with me. The moon itself wasn't bright enough to cast shadows, and paled in comparison to the light pollution in multiple directions, but that didn't stop me from hooking my camera onto my tripod and attempting a few photos. All said and done I'm happy with my attempts, though I know I need a better camera and a better lens to get the clear, close photos of Earth's lunar companion. Someday I'll get there.

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you've ever attempted photographing the moon. How'd it go?

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Different Type of Wave

I'm one of those people who notice, and often point out, oddly shaped clouds. My husband metaphorically rolls his eyes at me and says yes, dear and most of my friends look at me like I sprouted a second head. So what? I like to look up, and if I notice something interesting I like to share. This February while volunteering at an aid station at the Grandmaster Ultras race in Littlefield, Arizona I was the only one up and moving around just before sunrise on the second day of the race, bundled in multiple layers against the cold. I was already planning on photographing the sunrise, which was disappointingly underwhelming. I spun a slow circle not far from camp, trying to see if anything interesting was happening across the small piece of desert we were calling home, when I noticed the clouds above a distant mountain range. These clouds, called Kelvin-Helmoltz clouds, are formed by two different wind speeds in the atmosphere. Also known as billows, they are essentially the same as ocean waves breaking on a beach, where the top travels faster than the bottom, causing them to curl over themselves and crash downwards. I've seen pictures of them before, most people have, but have never seen the phenomenon in person. I was delighted, and not at all ashamed of how long I stood out there taking pictures until the clouds melded back together into a single band.

Leave me a comment and tell me if you've seen clouds like these before! Where did you see them?

Grandmaster Ultra: Day Two and Tear-Down

Impressed. Day two at the aid station began with voices. I was more than a little disoriented waking up to find the RV ceiling a few inches from my nose, bunked as I was in the little bed above the driver's seat. Johnny, our ham radio friend, was chatting with Torrey and Carrie, something about the runners and their locations, or something. I'm still not quite sure. It took me a good while to wake up enough to realize I'd slept well past the two-hour time limit I'd set for myself, and dawn's first light was leaking across the horizon. Even that realization wasn't enough to get me out of the cocoon of blankets wrapped around Hoodoo and I, but when Torrey started making pancakes I dragged myself to the table. With dawn brought other runners who had slowed down overnight but were eager to make up distance with first light. We kept up a stream of warmed food, and Johnny provided a thermos of (real, not instant) coffee. Let me tell you how those zombie-walking runners perked up when they heard we had real coffee!

It wasn't too long after I woke that we had a bit of an emergency pop up. A call from another aid station came over the radio for medical assistance, possibly an ambulance or even a life-flight. Over the radio chatter we gathered a male runner was lying on the ground, though it was unclear if he was non-responsive. It was clear that he was not able to be transported in a bumpy side-by-side ATV, though. Through Johnny and Base, they got an ambulance on the way to the area from wherever the closest hospital was, and I flagged down a race volunteer who happened to be driving by on an ATV on some mission of his own. He agreed to return to base and guide the ambulance to the aid station with the runner, and it was with nerves on edge that we kept an ear to the radio, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't too long after that the volunteer returned with an EMT buckled into the passenger seat of his vehicle, flying down the road past us to get to the runner. Maybe five minutes later a car drove towards base, driven by one of the aid station's volunteers (who happened to be another aunt of Torrey's, and a nurse), with the runner and EMT in the back seat. The last I'd heard (though I didn't ask after we left the race) was that he was still in the hospital recovering from hypothermia and a few related issues. I sure hope he's okay now!

The second day of the race saw a few other injuries, including a broken arm, a few busted faces, and a myriad of other bumps, scrapes, and bruises. The course was not kind, featuring rough, ankle-twisting rocks that seemed intent on tripping tired runners. It was no surprise we had a some runners go down, a few on more than one occasion. Fortunately, only the one gentleman was hospitalized that we heard about, so we'll take that as a win. In addition to the exhausted runners from the first day, a new set of runners began the morning of the second day, consisting of those running shorter distances. Our aid station was busy for a time as those fresh runners passed through, but a lot of them breezed by without stopping, intent on the finish line only four miles away. Unfortunately, the new day also brought new weather, and we had to contend with a few flurries of snow showers that were sure to make the runners miserable. It cleared up as the day went on, and as the runners began to wind down we had a few linger in the warmth of our RV, not quite ready to face the chill again.

We met some truly inspiring people. Women who I want to be when I grow up, including a 48 hour racer (read: run as far as possible within the 48 hour time limit) sporting bright pink hair and fantastic tattoos with her own book out in bookstores, a 50 K racer with a bright personality who insisted she'd get lost on course and begged us to help keep her straight and who came back once she'd finished to hug each of us and thank us for being out there (she only got turned around once, and it was on the other side of the course from us), and a woman who was running (and finished!!) her first 100 miler. Can we talk about persistence for a second? Because holy cow, I want to have even half of the will power of these women. Then there were those who stayed long enough to have conversations with, where we met a man who had lost his wife, found ultra running, and carries her picture pinned onto his backpack every race he does. I'm not normally emotional, and I made it through most of his story about losing his wife to cancer and all that entailed with interest, but as soon as he pulled his jacket aside to show us her picture and explain that he never remarried, even after nearly 20 years, because he was still in love, I lost it. I took one look at that picture, at the love I could see in his eyes and hear in his voice, and let the tears flow. It took a little while to get myself back under control after that one. We definitely felt the gratitude of most of the runners that day as they wrapped up their races. Nearly every one of them thanked us personally, taking the time to ask our names and praise us for volunteering to help out, thanking us for being out there and providing what we could for them. Those who came in to our RV, to warm up or to rest or to use the restroom, all gave Hoodoo a little love if he was out and about. The cat even curled up with the people who came in to nap for a few minutes!

As the sun set and the desert cooled even more we lit up the RV and laid our trail of glow sticks, beckoning runners to light and food and warmth. Johnny and I spent a while communicating with the other aid stations and base, trying to get a list of those who were still on the course and those who had dropped out or finished. In the end, with extensive cross-checking, we got a list of a few names to watch out for as night settled in around us. Johnny was invaluable in this, as we were able to keep track of who had passed what station, and could judge about when they should reach each point on the course. I realized I was worried about those men and women, cared about their safety and well-being, most of whom were entering their second nights of running/walking, most of whom had been awake for that long, and most of whom were exhausted. We took a great deal of care in marking what time each person arrived at our station and what time they left, radioing in to base to let them know when each was on their way to the finish line.

After pulling a 20-hour day, I finally passed out after trading Torrey and Carrie our watch chairs for the bed. I felt like I'd barely laid down when I woke up to the sound of vehicles driving the road, noting that dawn had come and gone and the sun was well above the horizon. Torrey and Carrie were asleep on the other bed, which told me our last runner had finished the race. With quite words we got up and packed the supplies, most of which Torrey and Carrie had done while I'd slept. We drove back to base, where tear-down was a subdued affair, exhaustion a physical presence among the group of race directors and volunteers. We cleaned the RV then helped clear the supplies and waited for runners to come pick up their drop bags. I hung around and chatted with Carrie, Torrey, and her family, as we traded stories from the aid stations and talked about the race overall. Every one of those runners amazed me, and I have nothing but respect for them and their ability to even attempt to do something so grueling. I told everyone this just before I left to continue my desert adventures for a few more days, and I'll say it again now: I had a wonderful time volunteering with this race, and it's inspired me to look into volunteering at other races closer to home. I think I've found yet another annual trip to add to my growing list, and now I can't wait until next year!

Miss Part One? Read it here!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Joshua Trees

Please bear with me as I let my inner plant-nerd see the sun for a minute: There are Joshua Trees in Arizona!!!! I had NO idea!! Granted, I know very little about these plants outside what I know about Joshua Tree National Park in California (and the fact that assholes cut some down during the government shutdown because they're pieces of shit who don't deserve to walk this earth, but that's besides the point) so when I first saw them at our Aid Station while volunteering at the Grandmaster Ultra I was convinced they were something else. When I finally got back to reliable cell reception I looked them up, and sure enough, Joshua Trees can grow in certain places within Nevada and Arizona! So I spent a handful of days camping and hanging out in a Joshua Tree forest, right in the little desert corner of Arizona, Nevada, and Utah, and that knowledge just tickles me pink! And to think, I let Hoodoo climb around on these trees, and may or may not have spent a good amount of time taking pictures of them and him. Seriously y'all, it's the little things!

Leave me a comment below and let me know if you've ever seen a Joshua Tree. Aren't they neat!?

Grandmaster Ultra: Set-Up and Day One

Interested. I've never volunteered at a marathon before. Actually, my experience with races extends to a couple of 5k's I've run throughout the last few years and the Pikes Peak Marathon every August where I cheer Torrey and her dad on from the comfort of a pile of boulders on the mountain top. When Torrey's aunt and uncle mentioned they were directing an Ultra, back when I saw them in Manitou Springs over the summer, I was excited to volunteer my help. I had no idea what exactly my help would involve, but I was happy and willing to do anything they needed. Also, ya know, hanging out in the desert for a few days during February was kind of a draw.

Now, for those of you who don't know an Ultra is exactly what it sounds like: a super extra race, either requiring extensive effort on the part of a runner but at a normal distance (a marathon or half marathon, for example) or requiring extensive effort on the part of a runner but at a decidedly not normal distance - say, 50-100 miles. Or more. After hiking Pikes Peak's Barr Trail last summer I have mad respect for those who run that race under a time limit, and can totally see how it would be considered an Ultra. For this particular race, the Grandmasters Ultra, there were a number of different distances a runner could enter, the longest of which is a 100 mile course to be completed within 48 hours. Perhaps the most interesting part of this race was the qualifications to be met by entrants: they must be 50 years or older to participate. So to recap, I volunteered to help a 100 mile, 48 hour race ran by a bunch of adults over the age of 50. And you know what? I loved every minute of it.

Oh, and I was allowed to bring my cat. Hoodoo and I arrived in Mesquite, NV late in the evening after a 20 hour drive plus a broken-down car (more on that in a different post). I met Torrey and her friend, Carrie, at their hotel and after getting settled and introducing myself and the cat to Carrie, promptly passed out. The next day was spent helping Torrey's aunt, uncle, and dad get whatever they needed done before the start of the race the following day. It was a long day and a late night of sorting supplies, running the packet pick-up table with Torrey and Carrie, and otherwise getting ready for the inaugural race, and it was far too early the next morning when our alarm went off, prompting us to get to the starting line then out to the Aid Station we would be manning for the next 48 hours. As long as there was a runner on the course, we would be there to help them.

Our aid station, number 4, was situated at the corner of two desert dirt roads doubling as part of the ultra's course, four miles from the finish line. We drove out in a rented RV with our supplies and runners' drop bags, eager to set up and welcome the first runners a few hours after their start at 8am. We weren't alone out there; in addition to the RV where Torrey, Carrie, Hoodoo, and I were to offer food, water, and heat to runners who wanted them we were joined by a ham radio operator named Johnny Rauzi, call sign k7zzq with the Virgin Valley Amature Radio Club - Mesquite. Johnny was to be our communication with the start/finish line (base) and the other three aid stations along the course. He helped us set up the RV, taught us how to work the thing (I've had limited experience with "luxury" camping, as I usually prefer a tent, but did used to travel with my family in our camper for summer vacations), and generally helped us keep track of the runners on course.

That first day flew by. I made sure to take some time to wander along the dusty road and meander through the scrub brush and Joshua Tree desert, taking Hoodoo with me and snapping pictures as I went. We were in a wide valley, with a ridge to the west and north and mountain ranges to the east and south. It was a beautiful place, far enough removed from the hustle of the interstate four miles distant but close enough that we had a fairly constant stream of visitors in vehicles and side-by-sides. We never really got hit by a lot of runners all at once; mostly they came individually or in pairs, only occasionally overlapping. We provided foods you'd expect while exerting a large amount of energy, including fruits, chips, potatoes, candy, and meats, as well as water and electrolyte drinks. As evening fell and the temperature dropped we powered up the lights and heat, preparing noodles, grilled cheeses, and quesadillas for those who would come throughout the night. Most of the runners wouldn't sleep until they completed the course, and if they were up then so were we. Torrey, Carrie, and I took it in turns to nap when we could, but never left our aid station without someone to greet the runners.

Overnight is when things became entrancing. We lit up our station with a small fire and the RV lights, and at the request of a rather, um, interesting, runner Torrey ran out along the trail to mark the way with glow sticks. I have to be honest here, at this point my memory is a little foggy regarding the rest of the night. Exhaustion, excitement, and awareness combined to make things bleed together. I mostly remember the frigid desert night and thinking that if I was cold, when I could get into the RV and warm up, then I was miserably sympathetic for the runners out on the course walking by themselves through the desert night. All I know is that when Carrie woke up and it was my turn to sleep I crawled into the bunk, snuggled down next to Hoodoo (who'd already claimed the bed as his) and passed out within seconds.

Check back next week for the second day of the Grandmaster Ultra!