This morning, after the sun rose in Palo Duro Canyon, 2 hours north of Capstone Canyon, it was 10 degrees Celsius (50 F.). Mists of dew evaporated off the canyon floor.

About 180 compass degrees in the other direction, westward, it looked like an entirely different place. How would it be possible to reconcile these two images taken from one point of view in a painting?

Can I trust my viewer to accept that I haven't simply tossed two pictures together? Have I been able to earn such trust without resorting to written and spoken language?

I don't think so.


The six mile round trip trail, first blazed by the Civilian Conservation Corp in 1936, leads to a formation called The Lighthouse.

The only car in the parking lot, when I left, probably belonged to this young man. The Lighthouse is on the upper left, about a half mile distant. He was very excited about it. Judging by the way he had secured his pack it would be a scramble.

Mouse over.


It was beginning to get hot about 3/4 the way up the ascent.

Mouse over.


The summit of The Lighthouse is almost at the level of the surrounding prairie.



"Break your shutter!" The old soldier said as he jogged by.

I didn't know what to make of it. Did he intend to break my camera? Maybe a double meaning?

He jogged by...

"Lookin' good!" I shouted after him... mouse over.

The temperature was 30 Celsius (86 F.) A 20 degree (36 F.) range between night time low and day time high is radical.


I have taken 190 photographs today. It is the equivalent of around 6 rolls of 35 mm film. I wouldn't have known how the exposures turned out for a month. Developing and printing them myself would have been an expensive nightmare of grueling effort in a darkroom. What the commercial printers did with their mechanized developing machines was shameful. Slides were a bit better but time was not kind to plastic positives.

Last night the elderly woman with the cute pup who was warning everyone of the high winds today said:

"You should take down your awning."

"It's okay. If it does blow down, the poles will fall and the canopy will flap against the camper. It's old tech."

She had an RV with an expensive electric roller reefing awning.

"Old technology is best." She replied.

"Not often."

The wind went over the canyon today. Only a gentle breeze evaporated the sweat and cooled me. Up on the prairie the wind whipped the dry grasses.

In Canyon city they don't sell beer.

"It's a dry county." Said an old cowboy mechanic in the grocery store. "You'll have ta go ta Amarillo ta get beer."

"Do you know where I can get a propane refill?"

"Yah can't get no propane here. It's Sundee."


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