whalesWhalesWHALES

off Baja Sur, Sunday, March 29th Sailing north from Puerto San Carlos, Baja Mexico, we prepared to see gray whales in and near Laguna de San Ignacio. It was late March and many of the grays had left for Alaska. Some of the mother calf pairs still remained. Soon they would be gone. In the ship lounge, we had finished a discussion of marine mammals. There could be as many as 8 types seen over the next two weeks. Gray, minke, blue, fin, and humpback baleen whales are probable. Perhaps we will see toothed sperm whales. We will certainly see dolphins and sea lions. A camera session followed. What kind of settings would optimize your chances for good images? Some of these mammals are fast and all are unpredictable. Speed of exposure is key. It will need to be at least 1/1000 second. A depth of field of f8 or11 is desirable. What kind of ISO will that require? Image stabilization if you have it. Tripods are useless; too much movement. The swells on the Pacific had begun to take their toll of people’s stomachs. The queseys had set in. Some people left the dark enclosed lounge for more open spaces. “Blows on the horizon. Half a mile.” The Captain moved towards them. “Minke.” Blows are distinctive. These whales are fast. It was feeding on fish, gulping and moving quickly. Too fast for me to photograph. I got a lot of blue water waves. “There! One o’clock!” On the horizon more than one blow. More than one whale. “Blue?” Set the camera on action or burst shooting. Be sure of the exposure and speed. Soon we were there. More than one blue whale was near the ship. Our ship was 153 feet long. Blues range from 70 to 85 feet. For almost an hour they were about “performing” but not posing. Finally with the light failing and 160 miles to go to anchor, the Captain set off to the north. The dinner tables were less than full. The queseys did not want to feel the swells, and see and smell food at the same time. We sailed north into the swells. It was a bumpy ride that night.

West Los Angeles, March 27th

The city life. In my dreaming fog, I heard voices outside on the sidewalk. Then the sound of a dentist drill revving up. I’m having a tooth drilled??? It doesn’t hurt. Then I realized that these drills and voices were trimming the trees that were very close to the condo windows. 6:40 AM!! They continued to work until 9 AM on the trees around the neighborhood. Now the chipper grinds and spits wood chips and cut leaves into the truck. It did let more light into through windows. We are in West Los Angeles with Elsie and Peter, former neighbors from Andover. After retiring, they moved to this other coast. Two of their three children had located in LA. With two young grandchildren, Peter and Elsie have much to do. Yesterday we took the two young grandchildren, 1 and 3 years old, to the Los Angeles zoo. Strollers, cameras, lunch, and all the assorted kids gear. Arriving at the parking lot there were 3 dozens yellow school buses lining the curb and in the lot. There must have been a thousand grade school kids with their chaperones continually counting heads. Each group in their bright colored and clean school T-shirts. Tight herds on the move, looking for the next view. Inside the zoo everyone was well behaved. Even the adults maintained their self control. Animals in the zoo must be used to the swarm of viewers on their front porch. Young children get all excited when an animal or bird looks them in the eye. An orangutan looks sad and withdrawn,

A bored male lion with a piece of wood shaving hanging over his right eye.

A giraffe, chewing on a twig, looks me straight in the eye without expression.

A merket standing guard looks directly at all the viewers.

It turns and looks at the spectators on other side of the enclosure. None of its friends show their faces.

Field trips and young children run their trips on tight schedules. The school buses must be back in time to transport other school kids. So the buses leave before 2 PM. Little kids need the stroller, then fall asleep or begin to cry. This gives us old folks an excuse to exit. We would never admit that we were also tired and wanted to take our naps. The early drilling took away an hour of zzzs. Time to recoup.

Sweet Potato Sizzler and Poutine

“I really could use something to eat.” I said. It was sure past my suppertime! My wife and I had just left the museum talk. Down the street we walked. On the corner ahead was a place that a few people had gone into. We read the menu posted in the window. It looked interesting; an English style pub. “OK let’s go in.” She said. I was ready. In we went. On the back wall over the bar, I could see there was a board with a couple dozen draft beer and ale. The wood paneled room was deep and the light subdued. Tables along the walls lined the way to the bar in the back of the room. Two empty tables were near the bar. Most of the others were occupied. Several guys stood at the bar, drinking and talking quietly. “A table for two?” The young hostess took us past the bar and into the main room. There was a long wooden rail separating the long room lengthwise. “OK?” as she took us to a tall table in the middle of the room. The room was almost full. “This is fine.” I said. We hung our jackets over the chair backs and climbed onto high chairs. On the other side of the rail sat three young women at a regular table. It was odd looking down on them from our perch. Another couple came in and was escorted to the last empty tall table. “Looks like a full house.” “Hi. My name is Laurie. I’ll be your server tonight. Have you been here before?” “No.” “Well then, you are in for a treat. A favorite is our Sweet Sizzler appetizer.” She motioned to the plate on the table on the other side of the rail. “Sweet potato fries with cheese. We also have 23 drafts available.” She handed us the menus. We read and planned. “Looks like an appetizer and dessert night.” I said as I saw the bread pudding in the dessert list and the size of a delivered Sweet Sizzler to the adjoining table. This room was nearly full. Mixed groups or women were at the tables. They were mostly in their late 20s or 30s. A few tables had an older couples like us. Background music was there but it was not in the way of conversation. Comfortable and relaxed. “Are you ready to order?” Laurie asked. “I think so. We’ll share a Sweet Sizzler. I’ll have a draft Bass Ale and my wife will have Wachusetts Ale.” I said. The cold mugs arrived almost immediately. Soon I could see a pyramid of fries on a plate coming our way. Laurie put it between us and gave a winking nod. The golden mound was topped with sour cream and a green scallion garnish. The melted orange cheddar formed the base for the mound of sweet potato fries. It looked like Poutine. I recalled the first time. It was in a ferry terminal restaurant on the Labrador Straits. There was an hour to wait before boarding the ferry to Newfoundland. “Poutine” was on the menu board beside the other fast foods. We had never had it before. OK it had to be tried. Looking out over the dark blue water, we savored an order with a plate of fried cod and two beers. Now on every trip to the North, we search for it. Poutine, invented in the 50’s, is comfort food in Quebec. French fried potato with cheese curds and a sauce. The sauce is made from veal/chicken broth. The cheese curds, shaped like long thick fries, do not melt. The peppery sauce is absorbed into the cooling potato and coats the curds. With their high moisture content, the curds squeak on your teeth. In the 70’s, a version traveled south to New Jersey. This had cheddar cheese and gravy. Different than the Quebecoise version because the cheddar melts and then solidifies around the fries. American versions now use different cheeses and sauce/gravy; local color and inventiveness. This is not diet food. “This is upscale Poutine.” I said. Sweet potato and melted cheddar now consolidated formed the base of the pyramid. Oh, and a few pieces of bacon imbedded in the cheese. Sour cream coated the potato peaks. Green vegetables on top. The sweetness of the fried potato, a bite in the cheese, hhmmnn bacon pieces. The food pyramid. “I don’t think I’ll have room for the bread pudding.”

New Snow

The new snow was deep and fluffy. My skis broke new trail as I moved through the open woods. The path was an old rail bed abandoned decades ago. It lead straight north through the woods. On the left, a low ridge and away to the east, the frozen pond. Cloud shadows were moving across the pond. In the forest, shadows from the trees were shaded blue on the fresh surface. Push the ski up and over the snow. Sink ankle deep as my weight moves over the ski and gives me a short glide. The ski tip breaks a narrow line in the smooth snow. Bring the back ski up and over the new snow…sink into the snow and glide a little. Watch the new line from the ski tip. Behind me, Meg has a newly broken trail to ski. She doesn’t sink to her ankles. She packs the trail and has a longer glide. Her skis smooth the little hills in the track left by the weighting and unweighting of my skis. My ski poles have the wide baskets for soft snow. Still they go deep into the snow. They snow slides through the basket’s openings and layers up. It falls off in a pile as I lift the pole and move it forward. The end of a broken pine trunk is layered to look like a snow goose. Photographing on skis is contorting. If you remove your skis, you sink deep into the powder. You need to ski close but not show tracks or skis in the frame. Crouch low for an angle, frame the image, and don’t slide down the slope. Get it? Reshoot from another angle? Animal tracks in the snow. A single track leads off the ridge and down the gully toward the pond. They cross my intended path. The deep snow leaves a track that is hard for me to see what kind of animal it is. Soft snow falls back into the mark, covering the print. The distance between front and back legs suggests a body about a yard long. Occasionally, a foot would drag a thin line in the snow as it moved for the next foot fall. “What kind of animal is it, Jack?” She asked. “I can’t see a foot print…Oh here is one. It looks like a dog or a perhaps coyote.” I remembered the story in the newspaper from last autumn. A woman and her dog had been walking the path in the woods. Suddenly, a coyote appeared in front of them. It blocked their path. She said that the coyote “stared coldly” at them with its head low and forward. She hollered and whistled. Finally, the coyote broke the stare and moved off up the hill into the forest. She did not know if it was her or her dog that the coyote was threatening. We ski on. I can see black water along the pond edge where a small stream flows in. Twenty yards ahead there is another animal track crossing the path. These look like a deer. The track leads down to the open water of the stream. Snow falls from high branches. It glitters in the sunlight as it drifts with the light breeze. We ski on alone through the quiet woods.

Four Sisters Owl Diner

It was a “five-layer day” as I stepped cross Appleton St on my way to the Owl. I could feel the cold air sticking my nostrils together. My shoes squeaked as I quickly crossed the street. “Must be about 1˚F.” I thought. All the parking lot spaces were filled in front of the1940s Worcester Semi-Streamliner diner. The Owl Diner sign no longer does the neon thing; just painted now. An old owl looking down the street. “Good morning, Jean-Paul.” I say as he walks between the cars from the side street. We entered the under-construction entrance. “Been a while for this work. It should keep the cold wind from the booths.” Just inside the inner door, warmth and the smell of grill fried potatoes came to us. The counter stools were nearly all occupied but the booths beside the door were not. I remembered how I used to spin on the seats when I was a kid. “Morning!”, as we walk between the counter stools and booths. Mostly retired, a handful or more of us get together for our weekly Wednesday AM breakfast. We are a group of photographers from the Lowell Camera Club. Talk of photography, light politics, economy, and whatever. Jean-Paul and I sat down with Ray at a table in the back of the attached dining room. “Coffee? Any more people coming?” asked the waitress. She poured it black and hot, and left a cup filled with coffee cream containers. “Yes and Yes. Karl is still in Florida. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks. But Tom will be here in a few minutes.”

Tom arrived with Paul and Joe; no wives today. No menus needed. Old dogs and old tricks. “What will it be guys?” asked Laura order pad in hand. She really didn’t need it. “Ham and eggs with toast.” “Two over easy, wheat toast, and home fries. Jack you can have the potatoes.” “Oatmeal and strawberries”, said Paul. “Me too” chimed in Joe. “Oatmeal.” Jianpaul scrunched up his face at the prospect of oatmeal again. “Do you have the real maple syrup today? No strawberries.“ Watching his face made me change my mind. “Honey buns. No oatmeal today.” The talk turned to oatmeal with a vengeance. “My mother…”, “It was like a clump of frozen...”, “The doctor said…” Laura soon brought the oatmeal, milk, and brown sugar for the three guys; other stuff takes a bit longer. No maple syrup today…just the brown sugar. We gave the extra milk to Paul who liked his real soupy…”porridge?”. Then Keri brought the honey buns. Cut in half and quick grilled to toast it and melt the sweet glazing. Live wild and eat a toasted honey bun. “When we were on the road, we mixed yogurt and uncooked oatmeal together. It didn’t need refrigeration over night because of the acid in the yogurt. Next morning, we would thin the mix with some liquid and add more ingredients for breakfast. Apple juice or orange juice or milk worked well with interesting tastes. Combinations of nuts, raisins, shredded coconut, and wheat germ gave contrasting textures.” The oatmeal softens and absorbs the liquid yogurt. The result is a compact paste. More liquid was needed to loosen it and add flavor. Nuts and raisins added varied textures to the soft creamy; nut crunch and raisin soft. I remembered sitting in campground near the Rio Grande in Big Bend, Texas. A cold wind down out of the peaks to the north. Hot coffee, and the mix with almonds and apricots loosened with warm milk. “Sounds too healthy to me!” One bill and the guys each paid their portion. “See you later, guys. See you next week, Laura.” I walked from the dining room past the table with the firemen, and the one with men’s the track team from the college.

I zipped up my layers, put on my knit toque, and gloves. Walked to the door and out into the winter air. “Travel light and wear a smile”, Jack Holmes