This past weekend, Mike and I took the camper down to Tucson, parked it at Gilbert Ray Campground (highly recommended) on the west side of the city, and joined the members of Arizona West Shutterbugs for a photo outing at the San Xavier del Bac Mission just off I-19 south of Tucson.

I’ll likely blog about the rest of the trip another time; for now I wanted to share some information about the photo shoot, as well as a few photos.

We were scheduled to meet the group at 7:30 AM at the mission. We’d spent the night nearby, so we were less than a half hour away when we started down there. We arrived at about 7:10; less than 15 minutes before sunrise.

The place was almost deserted. A few members of our group had arrived and were parked off to one side. We parked in the back of the parking lot so as not to block anyone else’s long shot of the mission.

It’s not my purpose to tell you about the mission. You can learn about it on the San Xavier del Bac Mission Web site or Wikipedia. So please don’t criticize me for being short on facts here. I’m typing this in a camper and have to literally dial-up (via my cell phone and Bluetooth) to go online and check facts.

It was cloudy to the east when we arrived, so sunrise was pretty much a non-event. Although I did take some photos of the front of the building in first sun (or what we had of it), I detoured to a small shrine-like building on the west side of the main church building. My friend, photographer Ann Torrence, had suggested this. I took a number of photos of the multitude of statues in candlelight before light started creeping in through the door behind me. The one here was shot with one of the 10mm lenses we rented from BorrowLenses.com.

Only a few minutes later, a pickup truck backed up to the front of the church gates. There was a blue coffin in the back. A man set up a coffin dolly and several others carried the coffin over to it. People started assembling in front of the church. Any photographer present stopped taking photos in respect for the family and friends of the deceased. A priest in traditional Catholic priest garb came out. He spoke with the family, then stood in the doorway of the church and began the service. The sound of his voice echoed in the building behind him and for a while, I thought it was a trick of the acoustics. I later discovered that he was wearing a wireless microphone. So much for construction design miracles.

The service lasted about an hour. During that time, the rest of the photographers arrived and we swarmed all around the outside of the church, snapping photos just about everywhere. There were about a dozen of us. Most of us had tripods and digital SLRs, but there were a few folks shooting without tripods or with less sophisticated camera equipment. I’d come fully prepared with a tripod, my Nikon D80, and four lenses: 10.5mm fisheye, 10-24mm, 16-85mm, and 70-300mm. I mostly used the 10-24mm rented lens and my usual 16-85mm lens.

When the funeral ended, we paused as the blue coffin was loaded into the back of a Cadillac Escalade hearse — which I didn’t even know existed. As the mourners departed, the photographers swarmed into the church.

The mission is beautiful in a weird old Spanish/Native American way. It’s amazingly colorful and ornate, with dozens of statues of saints and angels. Spotlights are strategically placed to bring certain statues to life. Don’t get me wrong: you’ll need a tripod (recommended) or flash (not recommended) to get good photos in there — it’s mostly pretty dark. But with the right exposure, you can get some stunning images.

The main altar area, which is shown here, is a crazy ornate masterpiece of southwestern art. Having grown up Catholic, I can’t imagine sitting through a mass amid such decorations. Yet the church is active and has mass daily. (No photography allowed during church services.)

There are also candles all over the place. The sale of candles is probably the church’s biggest fund-raiser. They’re not expensive — only $3 each — and they’re quite beautiful when lined up in racks near statues. I bought one in memory of my grandmother. I’m not religious, but she was. She would have liked the place, so I bought a candle and put in in front of Saint Anthony (or “S. Antonio,” as the label at the bottom of the statue said). My grandmother used to have a Saint Anthony statue in the guest room — my mother has it now — so Saint Anthony statues remind me of her.

By the time we were finished inside, the sun was out and the sky was nearly clear. I shot this photo of the front of the mission, after waiting about 10 minutes for various tourists to meander in and out of my composition. This was shot at f/16 with a polarizer to enhance the color of the sky. There’s definitely some distortion in this shot, but I rather like it. It’ll probably end up in my photo blog.

I also got a little creative, working with various elements inside and outside the main building. These two photos are examples. The first is of the backs of the church pews. They’re simple carved wood with this unusual scalloped edge. It was sad to see that more than a few people had carved words into the backs of them.

This shot is a closeup of a scroll design in the stucco finish of a wall outside. I like textures and try to experiment with them in my photography. Although not very interesting, this is a good example.

These are only a few of the 100 or so photos (not including bracketed exposures) I shot at the mission. I’d like to go back and try for a sunrise shoot again.

If you plan to go, here’s some advice:

• Bring a tripod. You’ll need one if you plan to shoot indoors.
• Leave your flash at home. All it will do is make ugly shadows behind the statues.
• Don’t plan on photographing any kind of church service inside the mission. It felt good when the priest came into the church a half hour after the funeral was over and thanked us for respecting the privacy of the mourners and waiting until they were gone before shooting. And there are signs outside that warn against any kind of photography during mass.
• Go early. The earlier you go, the fewer people will be there to wander through your shots. And with a good sunrise, the front of the mission building would likely glow in that early morning light.
• Go everywhere you can. There are lots of public areas. Explore them.
• Leave behind a donation — or buy a candle in memory of a loved one. Entrance to the mission is free, but it’s certainly worth your support.

This past week, I traveled with my sister as part of a convoy of vehicles moving her from New Jersey to Florida. The other vehicles included my dad in a Budget rental truck (see photo) containing the contents of my sister’s recently sold condo and my dad’s wife in an SUV. We buzzed down I-95 at highway speed, stopping only for food, fuel, and bladder demands.

If you’ve ever driven I-95 — or most freeways, for that matter — you know how mind-numbingly boring the trip can be. You’re moving at 55 to 75 miles per hour down a corridor that’s often straighter than an arrow shaft. Although there are occasional scenic vistas, they’re usually ruined by the tractor-trailer trucks you’re passing (or passing you). The main points of interest are the billboards and the variety of fast food joints and hotel chains at exits. The only excitement comes when some jackass cuts you off or something falls off the trailer in front of you.

The benefit of the interstate highway system is speed, of course. If there’s no construction or accidents or rush-hour traffic in a major metropolitan area, you can zip right along to your destination. We travelled almost exactly 1,000 miles over a day and a half. My dad routinely makes this drive to/from farther south without an overnight stop. It’s a lot of driving, though. And it just isn’t fun.

Each year, I drive from the Phoenix area to Central Washington State and back towing a travel trailer. It’s about 1,200 miles each way. Although Google Maps tries to put me on freeways for the entire trip, I don’t go that way. Instead, I take the back roads that criss-cross the western states. Last year, I was mainly on Route 93. This year, I was mainly on Route 95. These are long two-lane, so-called “blue highways” that pass through small western towns and cities. Along the way, you can get a feel for the landscape and the way folks live. There’s seldom any traffic and the speed limit is often as high as 65 mph so you can move from place to place at a reasonable pace. You can stop just about anywhere along the way and although your choices for meals and fuel and hotels might be limited, they’re not just the same chain establishments you’ll see along the freeway. It’s a whole different way to travel, a whole different experience.

What I like about the blue highways is the opportunities to stop at interesting spots along the way. Instead of pulling into a McDonald’s for lunch, I might stop in a parking area with a scenic view and have a picnic lunch there. Instead of staying overnight at a Super 8 motel adjacent to a truck stop or parking my camper in a Walmart parking lot, I might roll into a state park and camp alongside a creek. If there’s a historic site or roadside attraction, I can easily pull over to take some time there and enjoy it. I can change my route at any intersection. Best of all, I set the pace.

Back in 2005, I conducted what I like to call my “midlife crisis road trip.” I hopped into my little red Honda S2000 with some luggage and credit cards and hit the road for 16 days. I traveled almost every day, getting as far away from Arizona as Mt. St. Helens in Washington, western Montana, and Yellowstone National Park. I had a general idea of where I wanted to go, but no reservations and no need to be anywhere on any day. I slept in motels, hotels, rustic cabins, and even a yurt. I ate all kinds of meals, from crappy fast food and terrible coffee at drive-thru joints to fine dining at the foot of Mt. Shasta. I made side trips daily, visited parks, and talked to lots of strangers. I put more than 5,000 miles on my car, got two oil changes on the road, and even replaced the rear tires after wearing them out. (Z-rated tires just don’t last very long.) I had a great time — better than most vacations — and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

While I realize that this week’s trip wasn’t for pleasure — the goal was to get my sister, her car, and her belongings from New Jersey to Florida in the minimum amount of time — it certainly did highlight the differences between my usual kind of road trip and motoring down the interstate between points A and B.

And it reminded me why I prefer the blue highways when enjoying the trip is more important than getting to the destination.

Just a quick whine — and a warning for people booking flights with services such as Expedia.

I booked a round trip flight more than 10 days ago. One leg was a non-stop on Continental. The other was a flight with a plane change on American.

Although Expedia allowed me to see the available seats on my Continental flight, it would not allow me to choose one. Each time I tried, it ignored my selection and said I had to get my seat when I checked in.

This evening, I checked in. Still no seat assignment.

I called the airline. Although there had been at least 10 window seats available when I booked the flight and as recently as four days ago, I was offered a choice between two middle seats. And that’s what I’m stuck with: a middle seat.

Crap.

Airline travel already sucks. Who the hell wants to be stuck on a plane for 4-1/2 hours in a middle seat? Not me.

Lesson learned: Don’t book on Expedia. Don’t buy a ticket unless you can get your seat assignment when booking.

I flew from Grand Canyon Airport to Page Municipal Airport (at Lake Powell) again yesterday.

Each time I make this trip, I follow pretty much the same route, hugging the southeast corner of the Grand Canyon Special Flight Rules Area (SFRA) until I get to the Little Colorado River Gorge and then heading pretty much due north. I wind up just outside the SFRA near Marble Canyon so I can show off Navajo Bridge and Lees Ferry before a quick flight past Horseshoe Bend, the Glen Canyon Dam, and Wahweap Marina. If the wind is in my favor, I can touch down at Page within an hour of departure from Grand Canyon. The same distance by car would take about 2-1/2 to 3 hours.

The terrain for most of this flight — from the Little Colorado River Gorge north, in fact — is high desert — technically the famous “Painted Desert” — and relatively barren. There are, however, some interesting features if you look hard for them. Since I’m always trying to point out interesting things for my passengers to see, I look very hard.

Ruins are relatively common. Round rock foundations are the remains of ancient hogans. (This area is on the Navajo reservation.) There are also the remains of animal enclosures, usually build with the same rock. There are complete hogans, some of which may still be occupied for at least part of the year, and ranches with hogans, sheds, outhouses, animal enclosures, and other buildings. All of these things are scattered across an immense landscape that takes more than 30 minutes to cross at 120 miles per hour.

There are also animals.

One of the questions I’m asked quite often by passengers is whether I see wildlife from the helicopter. I do, but not so often as to make it a common occurrence. It depends on where I’m flying, what time of day it is, and how hard I’m looking for wildlife.

Take antelope, for example. There are a few “prairies” north of I-40 and west of Mt. Kendricks in northern Arizona where, if I look hard enough, I can usually spot a herd of antelope. I know where to look and I remember to look. They’re hard to spot because their color matches the terrain so well. It usually takes movement to spot them. When I see them and point them out, my passengers never see them at first. I have to slow down, turn around, and drop a few hundred feet as we approach the herd. That gets them running a bit so my passengers can see them. As soon as they’re spotted — and photographed, if the passengers remember to whip out a camera — I move away. It’s not my goal to terrify the antelope population of northern arizona by buzzing them with a helicopter.

(When I flew at the Grand Canyon, I always saw at least one elk a day in the forest on one of my first or last flights for the day. My passengers never saw them and, since swooping around to show them wasn’t possible, I simply stopped pointing them out. It would be my own private treat.)

There are wild horses in numerous places throughout Arizona. I wrote a bit about them here. They’re also on the route I take from the Grand Canyon to Page. Today, my passengers and I spotted at least four herds of them — the most ever. They’re a lot easier to spot than antelope because of their size and color. But they’re also a lot easier to confuse with cattle. I look for long legs and long, thick tails.

There are domesticated sheep in various places throughout northern Arizona. We flew over a good-sized herd tended by four dogs today. They were a lot farther south than I expected — I usually see them farther north. This could be a different herd, of course. There were about 50 animals in that herd and the dogs did a pretty good job of keeping them together, even when my helicopter spooked them. (Yes, I had to do a circle for my passengers to see them; they were pretty small.)

In the past, I’ve also seen javelinas (pronounced have-a-leenas) from the air. They’re usually in herds of a dozen or more animals and I’ve only spotted them when I was alone, flying a lot lower than I do with passengers on board.

Of course, I don’t have photos of any of this. I’m flying and my hands are usually busy. My passengers never seem to remember to send me their shots. But one of these days, I’ll have some photos to share.

The public entrance to Kolb Studio, which clings to the rim of the Grand Canyon.

If there’s any such thing as “luck” I think it has to do with being at the right place at the right time. People who are truly lucky can recognize such an alignment and take advantage of it.

Like I did yesterday.

I was in the Kolb Studio at Grand Canyon Village. The Kolb Brothers were the original photographers of the Grand Canyon. They shot more images of tourism at the South Rim — there are 60,000 negatives in the archives — than anyone else. They also made a movie of their boat trip down the Colorado River through the Canyon and it played daily at their studio for over 45 years, making it the longest running movie in the world. That’s what the Ranger told us, anyway.

Today, the Kolb Studio is known primarily as a bookstore and art gallery. The old movie screening room which is on the second level down, has been converted into a gallery. Last time I was at the Canyon, the gallery was closed for some reason. This time, when I stood at the top of the steps to look down into it, I saw that they were packing up artwork to ship it back to the artists.

But as I stood on that upper landing, a young, thin, female ranger walked by, followed, like a mother duck, by a long string of tourists. There must have been about 15 of them. They were walking purposely down the stairs, past the barrier that had been erected to keep people out. I asked one of the last people, “Is this a tour?”

“Yes. Go to the desk to see if you can join us.”

I knew that if I went to the desk, even if they said yes, I’d be too late. So I just followed them.

Mind you, I had no idea what the tour was about. I had time to kill and it was clear that these people were going someplace I’d never been before. I wanted to go with them.

The sitting room in the living quarters at Kolb Studio. Beyond this is a “sunroom” with windows looking over the canyon.

I’d hit the jackpot. It turned out to be a tour of the Kolb Studios living quarters — the home of the Kolb Brothers.

Emory and Elsworth Kolb were given a piece of land at the edge of the canyon by Ralph Cameron who owned Bright Angel Trail and a bunch of other land on the rim. This was back in the early 1900s and Bright Angel Trail was a toll road. The Kolbs were given the land with the stipulation that they were to collect the tolls when Cameron wasn’t around. The Kolb brothers built their studio — first a tent, then a wooden frame building — on the edge of the cliff. A window on the building looked out over the start of the trail. The Kolbs would snap photos of the groups of mule riders going down. Then one of them would run all the way down to Indian Gardens, which is 4-1/2 trail miles and 3,000 feet down, where there was water. He’d develop the glass plates, make prints, and run all the way back up to the studio. When the riders returned, the photos were ready for purchase.

Inside the actual photo studio. The window on right right is the one they took photos of mule riders through.

There’s a lot more history to the Kolb brothers, but I’m not about to retell it here. Check out the PBS documentary about them or look them up in Wikipedia to learn more.

The more interesting thing is the house. It was built with its top floor level with the canyon rim. Subsequent floors were added below that. So the house literally clings to the side of the cliff. And it looks as if it were built over time by people who cared more about functionality than architecture.

The dining room at the Kolb Studio living quarters. Those windows look right out over the Grand Canyon.

But inside — wow. A perfect example of early 1900 homebuilding. The house I grew up in was built in 1901, so I know the style. Plaster walls, wood floors, molding. And all the windows looked right into the Grand Canyon.

The ranger led us though about a dozen rooms, including the sun porch, sitting room, kitchen, bedrooms, dining room, and, of course, studio and darkroom. (The darkroom was added after water became available at the Rim.) We were invited to take photos — even through the window the Kolb Brothers had used all those years ago. It was fascinating and a real treat for me.

The kitchen at Kolb Studio.

Let’s face it: I come to the Grand Canyon at least two dozen times a year. I’ve seen all the usual things. I’ve taken photos from the rim trail and every single rest stop or parking area on the rim. I’ve visited all the shops and eaten in all the restaurants and stayed in all of the hotels. I’m at the point where I’m almost bored when I come here. Almost.

When I finished the tour, the first thing I did was call Mike to tell him. I think he was jealous. Heck, I’d be if he’d gone without me!

Yesterday afternoon, I hiked up Doe Mountain, a mesa west of Sedona, AZ. The mesa has sheer rock walls on all sides except the northwest — that’s where you’ll find a 8/10 mile trail that climbs nearly 400 feet to the mesa top. The top is almost completely flat with stubby trees, bushes, yucca, and various types of cactus and desert grasses. It’s an amazing place at any time of day; simply walk to the side of the mesa with the view you want, sit down on a rock, and suck it all in.

I went up there around 3:30 PM; sunset was around 5:30 PM. It took nearly an hour for me to do the hike. I can hike on flat terrain or downhill all day long, but make me climb and you’ll be waiting for me. I was by myself, so I didn’t hold anyone back. When I got to the top, I was hot and thirsty.

I wandered around as the light continued to soften and redden. I found an excellent spot for photos on the north side of the mesa and shot the two you see here. These are unedited.

I’ve been experimenting quite a bit with foreground/background combinations. This shot of grasses, rocks, and trees with the red rocks in the distance behind them really called out to me. The foreground elements are on the mesa top. About 10 feet beyond them is a sheer cliff with a drop of 300-400 feet. The green trees you see beyond that are full-sized pinon and juniper pines. The red rock cliffs are several miles away. This one’s a “keeper” that I’ll likely put in my Photo Gallery. (That’s also why it’s so small here; I don’t share larger images unless their watermarked.) The only reason it’s not there now is that I haven’t had time to examine it closely and remove any optical imperfections due to dirt on the sensors. (It’s a never-ending battle against dust here in Arizona.)

This second shot is a self-portrait. I broke my third wired shutter release and there’s no way I could have used the self-time for this. So I used the camera remote. Of course, the sensor for the remote is on the camera’s right side (when looking at the front) and I was sitting at the left. Hence the stretched out arm and rather cranky look on my face. It’s a dopey picture and I look like an idiot. I guess that’s why I like it.

Oh, and I was about 5 feet from the edge of the cliff in this shot.

More from this trip in future posts. I’ll have better WiFi in Page.

On Sunday, I begin the fourth and final 6-day Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure I’m conducting for calendar year 2009. The trip is the culmination of months of preparation, most of which happens in the weeks and then days leading up to the trip itself. I thought it might be interesting to some reader to see what goes into it.

A Year in Advance

I make hotel reservations for the weeks of the planned excursions a year or more in advance. I have to do this to ensure that I get rooms for my guests (and myself, in many cases) at some destinations.

The most troublesome destinations are Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon, and Lake Powell, in that order.

Zero-Mike-Lima at Monument Valley.

In Monument Valley, we stay at Goulding’s Lodge, which overlooks the valley from the west. It’s not a big place and it has lots of historic significance. It’s also very popular with bus tours. That means it fills up quickly and early. I normally reserve a room with a king bed and a room with two queen beds. If the trip is sold, my guests get first choice based on preferences selected when the excursion is booked. Sometimes, however, I have to get two identical rooms. The other room is for me; there’s no where else within walking distance — I won’t have any ground transportation there — to stay.

At the Grand Canyon, I usually try to book rooms at Bright Angel Lodge (rim cabins with or without views), Thunderbird Lodge (standard rooms with or without views) or Kachina Lodge (standard rooms with or without rooms). I try in that order because, in my opinion, those are the best value rooms. Lots of people want to stay at El Tovar. I think it’s overrated. Sure, its historic — so is Bright Angel — but the rooms are small and cramped, just as you might expect in a 104-year-old hotel. They’re also very expensive — the more spacious rooms cost far more than the budget I’ve set aside for overnight accommodations. And although the hotel is right on the rim — so are the other three I listed — very few of the rooms have any kind of view of the canyon. Bright Angel offers a more rustic, historic experience steps away from the rim. Thunderbird and Kachina are more modern and motel-like but are also more comfortable. And let’s face it: when the sun goes down at the Grand Canyon, there isn’t much to do. A comfortable room is important.

As for me, I go with what I consider the best value on the rim: a half-bath room at Bright Angel. Sure, the shower is down the hall and there’s no television, but you can’t beat the location or price.

At Lake Powell, my guests stay at the Lake Powell Resort. It’s a huge resort complex right on the lake, with views, private patios, pools, a hot tub, restaurants, etc. I get lakeview rooms for my guests. They’ll spend nearly 24 hours at the resort and I want them to be comfortable. I don’t stay there, though. It’s too expensive and too far from the helicopter for me. Lately, I’ve been staying at the Days Inn across from WalMart. Less expensive, clean, and it has wifi.

Of these three hotels, I have to pay for the rooms at the Grand Canyon and Lake Powell up front. That means thousands of dollars in prepaid hotel expenses. I think of it as an investment. And when the excursions sell, I’m ready.

The remaining two nights — one in Sedona and one in Flagstaff — are usually relatively easy to book with at least a month’s notice. I don’t book them until an excursion is booked.

One last thing I do after booking: I modify the Southwest Circle Availability page on the Flying M Air Web site to clearly indicate what dates are available.

On Booking

One of my favorite subjects is Lookout Studio in the early light. (You can click it to see a larger version in my Photo Gallery.)

When an excursion is booked, I start by sending a package of materials out to my guests. The package includes a bunch of brochures, as well as a preferences questionnaire. They fill in the questionnaire with their preferences for rooms (for example, 1 king or 2 queen beds?), tours (for example, Antelope Canyon or Navajo Tapestry boat tour at Lake Powell?), and other options.

When I get the questionnaire, I start working the phones. I confirm and, if necessary, attempt to change existing hotel reservations. Sometimes I might have booked a non-view room at the Grand Canyon, for example, because that’s the only thing that was available at booking; I may be able to change it to a better room. I make new reservations for Sedona and Flagstaff. I also make reservations for tours. I book rental cars and rooms for me.

As I do all this, I’m entering dates and times and details into iCal, which I use for scheduling. This builds an itinerary for my guests. I’ll send them a PDF version of the itinerary for their approval. They may have some changes — perhaps they want to do their helicopter tour over the Grand Canyon a little later in the day to enjoy more time in Sedona that morning — and I’ll make them, if I can, when they tell me.

A Month Before

In the middle of each month, I look at the excursions scheduled but not booked for the following month. Then I work the phones again to cancel the hotel reservations I made for those dates.

Although I can cancel with as short a notice as two or three days, I’ve realized that it’s not a good idea to wait until the last minute. Not only can forget to do it, but I’d prefer to have the prepaid expenses refunded back to my credit card as soon as possible. Besides, with a month or less advance notice, I’m not likely to be able to get the rest of the excursion — other rooms and tours — booked satisfactorily. It’s best to just throw in the towel for those dates. I update the Web site to remove those dates so folks don’t try to book them.

Canceling all those dates takes the better part of a morning. There are a lot of dates in the systems and the reservation clerks don’t understand why. I have to explain it to them. I also have to make sure they only cancel the dates that need to be cancelled.

Accounting for the refunds is a nightmare. I have to match them in my accounting records by date. Although the hotels don’t usually make mistakes, sometimes they do. And it’s a real pain in the butt to fix them.

A month before a booked excursion is also when I take the 50% deposit from guests. I confirm with my guests that we’re still moving forward — this deposit is not refundable. I’ve never had anyone back out at this stage of the game.

Once I have the deposit, I send out the luggage, hats, and other goodies I’ve promised my guests. I provide the luggage so I know it’ll fit in the aircraft. They’re Totes wheelie bags. Admittedly, they’re not the best quality, but they’re lightweight and they will last for the entire 6-days of the trip, as well as through any baggage handling the airlines subject them to on the way to or from Arizona.

If my guests have requested dinner at El Tovar during their stay, this is also when I make reservations. You can make them as far in advance as a month; if you want until the last minute, you’re likely to be eating at 5 PM or 9 PM. I try to book for either a specific requested time or right after sunset.

A Week Before

I reconfirm all reservations about a week before a booked excursion. This takes about a half day.

I also fine-tune the itinerary and do a final check to make sure it’s correct and resolve any problems I might have found.

If my guests are flying in and I haven’t gotten their flight information, I call or e-mail them to get it. I also send them instructions for finding the Terminal Three helispot at Sky Harbor Airport if I’ll be picking them up there. I can’t leave the helicopter unattended there, so they’re responsible for finding me.

I also begin my daily weather checks, just to keep an eye on storm systems, temperatures, and wind forecasts. I’ll be checking the weather along the route every single day for the next two weeks.

Three Days Before

I take the final 50% deposit three days before the excursion. This is also when I do all the paperwork that goes into the guest package:

• Receipt for payment.
• Welcome letter.
• Printed itinerary.
• Sedona and Flagstaff street maps.
• Grand Canyon walking tour, shopping, and dining brochures.

I create the flight manifests and weight and balance calculations for each leg of the helicopter flight. This is required by the FAA to be on board the helicopter during the flight.

The Day Before

The day before the trip, I go through the helicopter and pull any item that I won’t need to have on board for the flight. I reorganize the under-seat storage bins so it’s easy to find what I need. The seat behind me will be for luggage — mine underneath and theirs secured on top. I make sure the bungee I’ll need to secure the luggage is on board.

I’ll also add the items I need for a long cross country flight. I usually bring along 4 quarts of the W100+ oil I use — I can definitely expect to add at least one quart during the trip, but I sometimes need more. The oil is hard to find, so it’s better to have enough with me than to have to hunt for it. And for our flight over Lake Powell, I need life jackets, so I bring those along, too. And I stow the manifests I’ve created. I don’t need to consult them in flight, but they must be on board, so I put them in my Hobbs book under my seat.

I also make sure the helicopter and its windows are clean, that my spray bottle for cleaning the windows is full, and that my rags are clean. I do a thorough pre-flight, which I’ll mostly repeat the next day before the flight.

The Trip

On the first day of the trip, I meet my passengers at the predetermined airport. After introductions and hand-shaking, I give them a complete and thorough passenger safety briefing, pointing out things like the fire extinguisher and the location of first aid and survival equipment (under my seat). I load up their luggage — mine is already under that back seat — and secure it. Then I help them aboard, make sure they know how to operate the seat belt and doors, and close their doors securely for them.

Then we’re off. I won’t go into the trip details; you can read about a typical itinerary here.

As we fly, I tell them what I know about the terrain we fly over. I know the routes by heart — I’ve flown over them enough — but I still have occasional surprises: wild horses, a herd of antelope, mild turbulence where I don’t expect it, etc. I share just about everything I see with my passengers — they’re probably sick of listening to me by the end of their trip.

In Page, my guests visit Upper Antelope Canyon. If I have time, I scramble into Lower Antelope Canyon with my camera and tripod. (You can click it to see a larger version in my Photo Gallery.)

At each destination, I have two goals: get my guests to their tour or other activity on time and handle the luggage. Every day’s activity is different and may have free time around it. I need to get people where they need to be and make sure they know how to get around — especially back to the hotel — for the day. Once I set them loose, I won’t see them until the next morning when we meet for departure.

I’m in charge of their luggage. At most destinations, our rooms are not ready for us when we arrive. That means I Have to either check or carry around the bags but be back for check-in time. When I check in my guests, I get a key to their room and bring their luggage in. I leave the key and, on the first day, I leave the welcome package.

I do this every day. The goal is for my passengers to enjoy a scenic helicopter flight to their destination, worry-free transportation to the central area, and time on their own for tours and other unscheduled activities. Anytime after check-in time, they can go to the hotel’s front desk, give the clerk their name, and get their key. Their bags are already waiting for them.

Heck, why can’t I find a vacation like this?

I also handle any arrangements for parking the helicopter, such as getting fuel, putting on the blade tie-downs, preflighting for the next day, and cleaning the windows.

The next day, I meet my passengers at the predetermined time. Although they usually bring their luggage with them, I can fetch it if they want me to. Then we head on out for the day. Some days, there’s an activity in the morning; other days, we just go to the airport and fly out to our next destination.

We do this for six days with five overnight stops.

I made this photo in Sedona during one of my excursions. (You can click it to see a larger version in my Photo Gallery.)

To be fair, I usually have most evenings and early mornings to myself. Once the bags are stowed in guest rooms — always by 4 PM — as long as the helicopter has been tended to, I’m free. I hike at Sedona and the Grand Canyon, do photo flights for other folks at Lake Powell, relax and blog at Monument Valley, and stroll around town and enjoy Thai food in Flagstaff. I take a lot of photos. I blog. This coming trip, I hope to work on a novel.

I have a huge amount of responsibility — these folks have paid thousands of dollars for a dream vacation. It’s my job to make sure it doesn’t turn into a nightmare. I take that responsibility very seriously. What I’ve found is that by doing everything I can in advance, the trip goes much more smoothly. And the more trips I do, the more smoothly each one goes — although I admit that the first one back in 2006 was the smoothest one of all.

When It’s All Over

On the last day of the trip, I return my passengers to the starting airport and see them off. If they liked the trip — and they always do — I get a nice tip. Then I bring the helicopter back to base, clean it out the best I can, and put it away.

The trip is expensive, but so is flying the helicopter. I’ve recently introduced what I call “a la carte pricing,” to reduce some of the sticker shock. Instead of paying for the whole package up front, guests can simply pay for flight time and my overnight costs. Then they’ll be responsible for taking care of all the other arrangements — hotels, tours, ground transportation, etc. — for themselves. That would certainly take a huge weight off my shoulders. But unless the guests want to skip overnight stops and tours, it won’t save them any money. My margins are tight; I don’t make much on each trip. I seriously doubt whether they could do it for less without sacrifices.

To my knowledge, I’m the only helicopter operator in the country offering these trips. After reading what it takes to conduct one, can you get an idea why? If that’s not enough to explain it, consider this: each time I take the helicopter away for six days, that’s six days that I can’t do any other for-hire flying — other than the occasional photo flight at Lake Powell. So my revenue stream is basically turned off for those six days. Not many helicopter operators would be willing to take a helicopter offline for six days at a time.

If you’re wondering why I don’t just fly back to base each night, consider this: it costs more to fly the helicopter for an hour than it costs to stay overnight at any of the destinations. And since we’re always at least an hour — and as much as three hours — away from base, it simply doesn’t make sense to go home every night.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining. I love doing the trips. I love sharing my knowledge of Arizona with my guests — especially folks from out of state.

And who could complain about an all-expenses-paid trip to five of Arizona’s most popular destinations — by helicopter?

On my most recent trip to the Grand Canyon, I did a little bit of climbing around below the rim. Some of the lookout points have places where it’s relatively safe to climb in for different views.

At one of these places, I looked back at all the people behind me, at the lookout and slightly below it. Most of them had cameras pointed into the canyon. I snapped this shot as a sort of humorous reminder of what the Grand Canyon sees when it looks out at us.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might be aware that I’ve been fooling around with panoramas. Last night, I created a panorama from 11 vertical images shot at Monument Valley:

The ability of Panorama Maker 5 to stitch these together so perfectly sold me on the product. I bought it as soon as the stitched image appeared on my laptop screen so I could save my latest creation at full-size. The resulting image is a whopping 16,724 × 3,485 pixels in size and weighs in at 37MB — as a JPEG file.

On close examination of the photo, however, I realized that there was one thing that marred it: a silver pickup truck dead center of the image (see red box above and blowup right). It wouldn’t be so bad, but the darn truck is shiny and really does stand out when you look at the image in full resolution.

So the question is: Do I Photoshop it out?

I experimented with this and did a reasonably good job with the cloning tool. But then I got to thinking about it. To me, a photograph represents reality. The reality of this image is that a silver pickup truck driven by what looks like a Navajo man was there when the image was shot. Removing the truck removes part of the reality of the image.

Or am I over analyzing this? Putting ethics where they don’t belong?

Are you a photographer? If so, how do you feel about modifying images to remove unsightly elements? If you’re not a photographer and just like to look at photos, how do you feel about a photographer’s honesty when creating and sharing photographic images?

I was at Monument Valley again today. I come here several times a year by helicopter with passengers on my Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure. I was here last month and will be back again next month. I’m always here on a Wednesday.

I land on one of the helipads at the landing strip at Goulding’s Lodge. Before my blades have stopped spinning, a shuttle van from the lodge drives up to meet us. The driver loads up my passengers and our luggage while I tie down the blades and lock up. Then he drives us all up to the lodge — a distance of about 1/2 mile — we check in, and we go to our rooms.

The next day, my passengers take a 3-1/2 hour ground tour of Monument Valley. I unwind, blog, and relax. Then I bring the luggage down to the helicopter (by van), preflight, and get ready to go. When they return from their tour at 1 PM, we head out to our next stop: Flagstaff.

The point of all this is that I don’t usually get to go into Monument Valley. Instead, I spend the entire 20 hours of our stay at the lodge or helicopter.

Now, I’ve been in Monument Valley many times. I’ve driven in twice and taken the tour at least three times. I highly recommend it. It’s the only way to really experience Monument Valley — and to take some really great photos. I just don’t have time to do a tour during our excursion. And since I don’t have a vehicle here — other than the parked helicopter — I can’t drive myself in for a brief trip.

Today, however, I asked one of the folks at the lodge desk to drive me in. All I wanted was a few shots from the overlook — which happens to be the best place in the park to shoot The Mittens with the late afternoon sun on them. She dropped me off with my camera and tripod. I then proceeded to spend the next hour shooting 85 images, many of which were destined to be part of panoramas. When she picked me up 90 minutes later, I was happier than a pig in you-know-what. I knew I’d gotten some really great photos.

And here’s the first panorama:

You’re looking at 12 vertical images, stitched together with Panorama Maker 5 — which, by the way, I’m now pretty much sold on and will be buying when I get home and can play on a beefier machine. It handled this stitch job very well, probably because I shut down all other applications while it worked.

I had my 16mm to 85mm lens set to 50mm for these shots and they were taken 15° apart. You’re looking at a 180° view here.

The image had some exposure issues that I patched up sloppily in Photoshop. I’ll do a better job when I get serious about making these panoramas.

But I wanted to share this here. Although it’s not perfect, I think it’s a good step in the right direction. And I’m so proud of it that I put my name on it.

I also got some great shots of The Mittens by themselves. I’ll likely put those in my Photo Gallery one day soon.

One of the things I like about the Grand Canyon is the interesting little places that the tourists generally don’t know about. Visiting these places can get you out of the glut of tourists and fool you into thinking that the Grand Canyon is your own backyard.

Grand View FIre Tower

Grand View Fire Tower is one of these places — especially when the main tourist season is over. This rickety old fire tower stands tall just outside the park boundary on Coconino National Forest Land. You can get to it from within the park by following signs for the Arizona Trail. You can get to it from outside the park by following a series of numbered forest roads.

The tower area has been spruced up considerably since I last visited it back in 2004. I was flying helicopter tours for one of the Canyon’s operators back then and I’d gone straight from work to the tower, hoping to watch the thunderstorms move around the area. It was fire season back then and the tower was “manned” by a female observer. I visited with her atop the tower. Afterwards, I drove into the park and got completely soaked to the skin — in my pilot uniform — while visiting Grand View Point.

The entire area was deserted when I arrived. I immediately noticed the big Arizona Trail sign that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there when I last visited. The Arizona Trail cuts north/south through the center of Arizona. I don’t know if it’s complete. But at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, it’s clearly marked and evidently available for hiking, horseback riding, and, in the winter, cross-country skiing. I’ve never hiked any part of it.

I also noticed a guy wire stretching from near the tower’s top to the cabin set aside for the observer’s use. I don’t recall that from my previous visit, either

There’s a sign at the bottom of the tower warning visitors that the tower is maintained solely for the use of fire observers. Although others can climb the tower, the park service takes absolutely no responsibility for any injuries. The sign also limits the number of people on the tower at any one time to four. That number had been written over another number that was likely higher.

I climbed. It was a windy day and the higher I climbed, the windier it got. I was about halfway up when I could feel the tower swaying. Unnerving when you consider that the tower had probably been built back in the 1930s as part of the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) program.

The sound of a helicopter caught my attention. I caught sight of one of Maverick’s EC130s making its way from the west toward the tower. The Green 1 tour route passes within a mile of the tower to the south. As I finished my climb, four helicopters flew by. They would be the last four on that route for the day. It was about 4:15 PM and this time of year, all helicopters have to be out of the canyon by 5 PM.

The view was better than I remember it. The tower stands tall around a forest of mostly ponderosa pines with some oak trees starting to show autumn color. Most of what you see from up there is trees. You can see other peaks in the area, of course — the San Francisco Peaks, Mt. Kendricks, etc to the southeast near Flagstaff stand out. I looked for and easily found Red Butte, where the next closest fire tower is. If smoke is spotted, the two observers will communicate by radio to triangulate the exact location of the fire.

To the northeast, where the Grand View Ridge drops off, I could see the rim of the Grand Canyon and some of the buttes inside it. I took a series of three photos for a panorama that actually came out quite good. As you can see, it was a cloudy day and the light was a lot softer than I like it.

I climbed down from the tower a short while later. It was almost spooky being there all by myself. I’d just left Grand View point where I’d been stuck in traffic in the parking lot. Here, less than five miles away, there was no one.

I spent some time taking weird photos of the tower’s structure with my 16-70mm and 10.5mm fisheye lens. Fun stuff. Then I climbed back into my truck and headed back into the park to join the rest of the tourists.

I spent part of Sunday afternoon in Sedona, AZ, on top of a red rock with about 270° views of the red rock cliffs around me. I was playing with panoramic photography.

Manfrotto 488RC2

I’d just bought a new tripod head for my camera. I wanted a ball head set up with a swivel base for panoramas. That means compass points marked off for precision panning. I wound up with another Manfrotto, which makes sense because the tripod is Manfrotto, too. It cost about twice what I wanted to spend, but I figured that between it and the tripod head it was “replacing” I’d have all the tripod heads I’d ever need.

Anyway, I was experimenting with panoramas shot with the camera held vertically, in portrait view. Most folks don’t think of doing panoramas that way, but if you want great big finished photos, you need to maximize your pixels. Do the math. My 10 megapixel Nikon D80 shoots photos that are 2592 x 3872. Shoot that vertically, and your panorama becomes nearly 13 inches tall at 300 dpi. That’s 5 inches taller than if the photos are shot in landscape.

Of course, the drawback is that you need to stitch more photos together to get the final image. Like this one, which is 8 images:

In case you’re curious, the images in this panorama were shot with a 50mm focal length (that’s a 75mm equivalent for standard 35mm film cameras, if that matters anymore). All the shots had the same exposure: f6.3 at 1/160th second. The tripod head was rotated at 15° increments. If you’re looking for a seam, you won’t find one — not even in the full sized image.

This represents my first stitching attempt with Panorama Maker 5, a Mac OS application by ArcSoft. Panorama Maker takes a lot of the guesswork out of creating panoramas by automatically identifying shots taken around the same time (and likely to be part of a panorama) and handling the stitching for you. Just click a photo in its browser and it selects the shots that go with it. Tell it what kind of panorama you want, and let it get to work.

I ran into frustrations with the software immediately. For this particular panorama, even though the software’s browser recognized the images as vertical shots, the stitching component wanted to turn them all sideways before stitching. This would basically attempt to stitch the top of one shot to the bottom of the next. I couldn’t find a way around this — at least at first. But then I just told it to create a vertical panorama. I saved the resulting image and opened it in Photoshop, where I rotated it 90°.

Later I realized that if I used the software to rotate the images 90° and then rotated them back, it properly recognized them for a stitch. Personally, I don’t think that step should be required. I think the software should stitch photos in the same orientation they appear in the browser. Period.

I also tried a 360° panorama. The images were great (if I do say so myself) — 24 shots taken at equal intervals using a tripod with manual exposure settings. The software had a lot of trouble with it. It failed on several attempts and when it finally succeeded, one of the images was shifted way higher than it should have been. I had to manually edit the match points on one shot. That fixed things, but it really did take forever (or almost) on my old 15-inch MacBook Pro, which is what’s with me on this trip. At one point, the fan was screaming. And the resulting QuickTime movie looked like the first effort that it was. (You can click here to download it; didn’t think it worth embedding in this post.)

Panorama Maker is try-before-you-buy software and the folks that make it don’t time-limit it. Instead, they display the usual annoying reminder and limit save size to 1/16 of full size. Perfectly fine for testing purposes. It costs $70 to buy and I’m not 100% sold on it because of the problems discussed here. When I get time — if I ever get time again — I’ll try it on my iMac back at home. I suspect it’ll be a bit quicker and not have to wheeze to get the job done.

If I see any improvements, I’m sure I’ll have more panoramas to show off here.

In the meantime, I’d love to get comments from readers about solutions they’ve found that work on Mac OS.

I know I’ve written about this before in this blog, but it’s worth repeating: I like taking photos at night. I like the way the light illuminates the things we don’t notice during the day. I like the weird colors of the light sources. I like the deep shadows and the way some things seem to come out of darkness.

Grand Canyon Village, with its rustic, historic buildings, is one of my favorite places to photograph at night. And since I was so lazy yesterday afternoon, I thought I’d make up for it by taking my camera and tripod for a walk from Bright Angel Lodge, where I’m staying, to the El Tovar Hotel, which just happens to have a nice bar.

These are some of the shots I took along the way.

Outdoor Passageway

The historic Bright Angel Lodge is a series of stone and wood buildings along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The main lodge building houses the lobby, a museum, restaurants, and various service desks. The other lodge buildings are cross-shaped and house small, simple guest rooms like the one I usually stay in. And then there are cabins with two or four guest rooms per building.

Covered, wooden plank walkways run between many of the buildings. They’re illuminated at night and glow rusty red from the red-painted walls.

Cabin Door

The cabins at Bright Angel Lodge are scattered along the rim. They’re all unique. Some have partial views into the canyon. Others are hidden away among the trees alongside the gravel parking lot.

At night, the doors to some of the cabins glow with a friendly, almost beckoning light. This one, facing into the canyon, seems to await the return of its occupants, who left chairs out front to watch the sunset from their room.

Lookout Studio

Lookout Studio is another of Mary Colter’s designs. This historic building now houses a gift shop. But if you come to the canyon, walk in and through the building. You’ll emerge on the other side, on the top level of a terraced overlook. Climb down for a good spot to watch sunsets or condors or tourists.

The building is lighted mostly from within at night. The wooden trim around its windows is painted a bright teal green.

Light Posts

Subdued lighting lines the path between the main building of Bright Angel Lodge and El Tovar Hotel. The lights are just bright enough to ensure that you don’t trip or bump into a grazing deer or elk along the path at night — but no brighter.

Although they line the path in even intervals, the curve of the path gives them the appearance of random blobs of light ahead.

Hopi House

Mary Colter also designed Hopi House, which is currently set up as a gift shop and gallery. She based her design on the architecture of Pueblo indian tribes such as the Hopi. In the old days — the early 1900s — Native American peoples actually lived in upper floors and on the roof of the building.

The building’s stone walls are a textural delight for anyone who admires such things. Set roughly, the stones cast deep shadows on the walls at almost any time of day. At night, things are a bit more subdued.

El Tovar Entrance

El Tovar, which was completed around 1905, is the grand hotel of the Canyon. When finished, it was hailed as the finest hotel in the west.

Made of dark wood with large porches and pitched roofs, El Tovar seems more in place in a densely forested mountain setting than at the rim of a desert canyon. Last night, its sign seemed to glow and its wide open doors welcomed visitors into the lobby.

El Tovar Lobby

The lobby of El Tovar is an impressive collection of mounted wildlife heads, southwestern decor carpets, plus leather sofas in seating areas, and gift shop displays. Last night, a young woman sat in a corner with her laptop, probably surfing the Web — the lobby is one of the few places where WiFi might be available.

I captured this shot with my fisheye lens, which is why it appears distorted around the edges. I like the symmetry of this shot.

Jewelry Case

One of the highlights of El Tovar is this round jewelry case in the middle of the lobby. FIlled with the finest quality, handmade Native American jewelry sparkling under bright lights, it’s like looking into a museum display.

I used my fisheye lens for this shot, too. Although intended mostly as an experiment, I thought it was good enough to share here.

The Best Irish Coffee I Ever Had

By the time I reached this point, it was 9 PM — too late for the martini I had on my mind when I left my room. But I stepped into the bar anyway. It was nearly deserted. I sat at the bar and ordered an Irish Coffee. The bartender made me the best one I’d ever had, complete with a single sugar cube, fresh whipped cream, and a bit of creme d’menthe for color and minty flavor.

When I finished, I set my tripod on my shoulder and walked back to my room. I nearly bumped into a mule deer doe and her fawn along the way.

And yes, I was the only photographer out last night.

I’m at the Grand Canyon. Again.

I come here 20 to 30 times a year, often on helicopter charters. This time, I’m taking a couple from Montana on a Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure. That’s a 6-day/5-night excursion. The second day (and night) is spent at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

A fisheye view of my room at the Bright Angel Lodge. Simple and relatively cheap.

As usual, I have one of the tiny rooms in the Bright Angel Lodge. The historic lodge and cabin buildings were designed by Mary Colter and built in the early 1900s. My room lacks the features most guests take for granted: television, air conditioning, and shower. I don’t need the first two and the third is down the hall.

I lucked out this trip and wound up with a corner room that has windows on two sides. There’s even a window in the bathroom. But best of all, it’s literally 100 feet from the rim of the canyon. In fact, if I look out one of my windows, I can see the wall of the North Rim 10 or 15 miles away.

Not bad for $80 a night.

My passengers are staying at the Thunderbird Lodge, with a partial view of the canyon. Their room is modern and has all amenities. It also cost $180 per night.

A shot taken in passing on my way to lunch today. The clouds were great; they really added depth to the scene.

This trip, for some reason, is different than the others. I didn’t feel at all motivated to walk along the rim and shoot pictures. I think I’m tired of photographing the Grand Canyon. Is that possible?

I have hundreds of photos of this place. But none of them can really capture its magnificence. Every time I try, I’m disappointed. I feel that it’s time to stop trying.

So I spent most of the afternoon in my hotel room, pulling movies off SD cards to clear them for more movies, catching up on Twitter and e-mail, and putting a few videos online. By 5 PM, I realized that I was avoiding my photographic duties. And that made me wonder why I considered taking photos a “duty.” Almost as if it were a chore. Was it?

I sat down to write this post. I entered the title in my offline editor. And then I stopped and scolded myself.

No, I was not going to miss a beautiful Grand Canyon sunset. I was going to get my ass outside and walk along the rim. I didn’t have to take photos, but I could if I wanted to. It was more important to be outside, in the fresh air, on a beautiful late summer afternoon with one of the world’s Natural Wonders in front of me.

So I went outside with my camera. Less than a minute later, I was on the Rim near the Lookout Studio, admiring the way the late afternoon sunlight played on the buttes and canyon walls right in front of my face.

There were lots of other people out there. Most were moving about, snapping photos along the way. Many spoke in languages other than English. They were all ages, although I can’t say I noticed any school-age kids.

El Tovar, in the late afternoon light.

I noticed an artist sitting on a rock with an easel in front of him. This week is the Grand Canyon Celebration of Art: Plein Air Event & Modern Masters Show. The artist, Sedona-based Williamson Tapia, was using oils to paint his interpretation of the cliff on which El Tovar Hotel sits and the magnificent clouds above it. His piece was mostly clouds.

We chatted for a while about art and the Canyon as I watched the light change. The red light and deep shadows behind the buttes were calling me. I excused myself, ducked through Lookout Studio to the cliffside overlooks below it, and snapped a few photos.

A look into the Grand Canyon in the light of the setting sun. The dark and hazy canyon is Bright Angel Canyon.

I shot RAW + JPEG Fine. I don’t usually shoot RAW. I’m hoping that I can learn more about it and use it to make better photos. I figure that I can’t learn more about RAW unless I have some photos to work with. So today was the day to start collecting them. The JPEG Fine will give me some thing easy to play with until I’m ready to work with the RAW format images.

When I was finished, I went back. Will claimed I’d given him good luck; that he’d found his style for the painting. We chatted some more as he worked. I watched him paint the green bushes and trees on the cliff below the hotel and then touch up the clouds with bright white tops and lavender gray bottoms. The light got softer and redder, but it didn’t affect his work; he was painting something completely different, something he saw. Onlookers came and went, admiring his work. None lingered. We continued to talk, agreeing (among other things) that one day a week, there should be no television broadcasts.

Finally, the light faded to the point that he couldn’t continue his work. He stepped aside and I got a good look at it. He told me he’d put it in the fridge back where he was staying so the oil would stay pliable. If those clouds were back the next day, he’d continue working on it to finish it.

We exchanged cards, shook hands, and went our different ways. I came right back to my room to finish the blog post I’d started with a title two hours before.

Now, as I listen to the crickets outside my window, I wish I’d spent the day outdoors, exploring some new part of the Rim.

As some of you may know, I just finished up a lengthy trip to the Pacific Northwest, ending it with a 2-1/2 week road trip back to Arizona by way of four national parks with my husband, dog, and parrot. I took over 1600 photos over the past three months, with about 800 of them snapped over the past three weeks.

That’s a lot of photos.

I shared some of them earlier in the summer, but soon got behind in reviewing and processing the shots from my Nikon. I also shared a bunch of cell phone photos taken with my BlackBerry, on Twitter via TwitPic and ÜberTwitter. I hope to share a few more of the interesting ones over the next few months here.

That said, here are some from the start of our road trip. My husband and dog arrived on an Alaska Air flight in Seattle on August 13. I drove from Wenatchee, where I was staying, to Seattle to pick them up. Since we had some time to kill, we visited the Museum of Flight at Boeing Field.

If you’re at all interested in aviation and have a chance to visit Seattle, don’t miss the Museum of Flight. I can’t imagine any museum with Aviation exhibits to be more exhaustive than this one — except possibly the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington.

And now, the photos. Sorry about the obnoxious copyright notice, but I don’t want my work circulated all over the ‘Net without permission or credit. If you want to share any of these shots to friends, link to this page.

The Main Gallery

I made this photo with my fisheye lens from the balcony of the main gallery. Those are real, full-sized airplanes on display — some hanging from the ceiling! It’s a great sight to behold.

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/80
Focal Length: 10.5mm

SR-71 Blackbird

This is the second time I’ve been able to get up close and personal with an SR-71 Blackbird. (The first was at the Pima Air Museum in Tucson, where one is parked outdoors under a shade.) If you want to learn more about this incredible plane, read its Wikipedia entry.

This particular plane has an unusual feature that it shared with only one other SR-71. Can you spot it?

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/4.2
Shutter Speed: 1/50
Focal Length: 26mm

Jet Engine Detail

This is a closeup shot of some of the tubing on one side of the SR-71 engine on display. You can see the display in the above photo, on the right side of the plane, just inside the white barricades.

I don’t know much about this, but I like the way the tubes look.

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30
Focal Length: 85mm

Concorde Cockpit

One of the highlights of the museum was the outdoor displays, which included a British Airways Concorde jet. Our walk through was the closest either one of us will get to supersonic fight — and the plane was permanently parked.

A plexiglas panel separated the tourists from the cockpit instuments. But if you put the lens right up against the Plexiglass and hold the camera very still, you might get a shot like this one:

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30
Focal Length: 85mm

Air Force One Cockpit

The plane that served as Air Force One from the Eisenhower through Nixon administrations was also on display outdoors. Again, the cockpit was on display, protected by a piece of Plexiglas.

There’s nothing like a fisheye lens to get the details in tight spaces.

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/50
Focal Length: 10.5mm

That’s all for this part of the trip. I hope to have some more interesting shots online soon.