It feels right to move from the inherent grandeur of Alaska to the little moments peppering the world around us. They flit by and give us pause, but fade quickly from memory. It’s good to catch some for safe keeping, and also to let some pass while appreciating them for what they are.
It’s hard to make good pictures of beautiful places, and even harder when you’re traveling on a boat with two-thousand other people. Our cruise started in Seward, Alaska, just before sundown.
The next day we pulled into Disenchantment Bay (great name) to take a peek at the Hubbard Glacier, which despite all odds is apparently growing. That turquoise color in the water is from glacial melt.
Then on to Hoonah, on Chicagof Island for a different kind of otherworldly beauty.
I would have been happy spending the entire week in Juneau if we had the chance. It felt like a place we could call home, if it wasn’t for the isolation from the rest of the world, and the cold dark winters.
Supposedly the skull of an infamous swindler from Skagway’s Goldrush days is the model for this cliff-side visage. It isn’t easy to tell how tall the tales are sometimes.
I’m still a little sore we sailed down most of Vancouver Island at night.
We drove down to Lathrop, MO last year to try and catch the total solar eclipse. The weather was not great, but I felt we had to try anyway. Of course when we found our way downtown and parked, it was sprinkling.
We mostly sat around and waited for the cloud cover to break.
The clouds started thinning as we got closer to totality. Maybe 100 or so people gathered on Oak Street downtown, which was closed off for the event.
The light felt weird. It was hard to capture with the camera, and it makes sense when you think about it, but even when we got direct sunlight, it just felt weak.
The cafe closed before totality so it’s employees could enjoy the show. They watched from the roof, silhouetted in front of a fantastic sky.
No luck with the clouds, but the nearly imperceptible rush of the onset of totality was still incredibly jarring. Crickets sang and street lights flickered on.
We watched the clouds in the distance darken as the moon’s shadow moved east.
The total solar eclipse lasted 2 minutes and 38.7 seconds in downtown Lathrop, all of it obscured. There weren’t crowds of people downtown, but there were enough people in the area to make the 4.5 mile drive back to I-35 take over an hour in the weird post-eclipse-not-quite-half-light
Northwestern Missouri was the place to be for upper mid-westerners to catch the eclipse. The drive home took over six hours.
Wollaston, MA was settled by and named after colonists who couldn’t stand the Puritans in Plymouth. I called this two square mile Quincy neighborhood home for four years, along with my wife and about 19,000 others. It’s old, dense, and a little weird. I miss it
Ganesh on the sea wall
Beach and Billings, afternoon sun
Detached garage, Calumet Street
Tobin Towers, Quincy Housing Authority, with new construction
Wollaston Ave, praying
Dusk over Beale Street
Here are a few sketches of our new life in Iowa. I’ve lost pretty much all my reference points, and that’s disorienting. Just have to work on a new set.
Ruthless sun at the National Balloon Classic
Waiting for construction to begin
Clive La Quinta, adjacent to my office
Visiting friends on the Front Range
Aspiring Christmas tree at the top of Sherman Hill
The view from Sherman Hill
Wells Fargo West Des Moines campus giving off NSA vibes
The clouds are my weakness. I’m not sure if they’re better out here, But the sky really is bigger.