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This is not about that Lynyrd Skynyrd song. No, it's about what we often say shortly after we step outside the plane or the airport in a new place. When we landed in Arusha, Tanzania, we were barely out of the aircraft door when my nose started crinkling. Wood smoke. Pretty strong too. That seems odd, I thought. Don't know what I expected to smell when I arrived in Africa, but it wasn't the smell of Southern California during a rash of Santa Ana wind fires. Turns out everyone cooks on wood and charcoal. Real charcoal, not briquets, but partially burned wood that someone within walking distance made in their back yard.

This was much different then getting off a plane in Costa Rica. The door opened and we strolled out into the tropical air lush with the aromas of vegetation and wet things. Not sure what kind of things but they were wet.

And it is not just third-world countries. There was the smell of walking through the airport/train station at Schipol in Amsterdam. Perfume. Bright, flowery, expensive scents not wafting from the duty free shops but from expensively dressed people - mostly speaking French. This was a 180-degree turn from past experiences with French speakers in the national parks of the western US.

Then Amsterdam itself. You can probably guess the aroma. Dope - in sudden, strong, overpowering gusts of nasal stimulation. And so randomly too. Sometimes in front of a "coffee shop", sometimes just walking down the street along the canals. Who knew Amsterdam would smell similar to Puerto Vallerta? We got off a cruise ship one evening in Puerto Vallarta to take a few pictures near sunset. We walked one block and suddenly  - yep, the smell of burning cannabis. Great (and yes that is a sarcastic great). I hate that particular smell.

Sometimes we smell things that are intimately related to our photography and we wish we could add them to the picture. The sweet fragrance of a grove of oranges in full bloom for instance. Or maybe the smell of sage after a summer thunderstorm in the Great Basin. Or recently in Africa, the metallic tang of fresh blood at the site of a hyena kill. All of them link back to pictures in our heads. At least for me, when I get lucky and make a really memorable image I find it often has a memory of a particular smell that goes with it. And sometimes the smell affects the photo too. So, do you smell that smell?

Boyd

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Yes there are  a LOT of Africa photos. But then a trip to Africa generates a lot of opportunities for photos and videos. We worked and winnowed and edited and discussed and somehow got down to the roughly 80 pictures you can see on the website as I post this. There were a lot of good photos that we haven't included for a variety of reasons: too graphic, too much like another photo, too much this or that.

When we got close to having our selects, we also decided to overhaul this website and give it a fresh feel. We like the new layout and hope you do too. We aren't sure how long it will stay this way. But soon the urge to go make new images will become overwhelming and we will have to create something new to put up here.

But for now, enjoy the galleries from our Africa adventure. Also expect some stories to be added here about our trip and what we learned. Additionally, we will be making a video of our Africa trip, but before that, a nap....

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Boyd, the platform and getting ready for the shot

Hurry up and wait. I used to be a professional at it. I never did like it. I still don't like it. But sometimes you have to wait for an opportunity to take a photograph. I didn't have to wait for this lady, but off-camera 3 bus loads of tourists from a country not known for their large interpersonal bubbles are unloading and descending to the platform like wildebeests after the last scrap of grass at the end of the drought. See the metal posts holding up the platform? They are about to start vibrating like a tuning fork. The solid platform is about to become a bowl of Jello. No problem if you want a quick snap of someone standing in front of a waterfall. But I wanted smooth flowing water and crispy rock. That means a long exposure and a very still camera. Just as I get everything set, the first of the horde descends and pretty soon as I look thru my camera the view is jiggling. That platform is about as steady as a crab boat in the Bering Sea. But being trained at hurry up and wait I implement my training. The good news about where we are: the buses have to move on to get to some where else. That means the horde probably has only 15 minutes here. I can wait them out. I am a former professional at waiting. And after about 20 minutes the instagram shots were done, the vibrations were slowly going away and I sidled back to my spot. This other image is the result. Pretty sure no one on the 3 buses got this shot. Guess it pays to have been a professional at hurry up and wait.   Boyd

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Can a landscape photo be abstract? Dictionary.com has this definition of abstract: "thought of apart from concrete realities, specific objects, or actual instances: an abstract idea." Is a photograph of something that exists then abstract? Look at these photographs and see what you think:

Without getting too deep here, we like the way a camera and lens can isolate elements of a larger scene. Sometimes it is just about lines or shapes or colors or textures. Or maybe just sleep deprivation.

Our trip was full of variety - from quiet bird watching hikes in isolated forests, to raucous partygoers in Times Square and everything in-between.  We even heard the President speak in person.  We saw 211 different bird species, took 4,000+ photos, traveled 10,760 miles while visiting: cities, statues, forts, archaeological sites, state parks, national parks, cemeteries, national wildlife refuges, lighthouses, national forests, and the emotionally powerful new 911 Museum in NY.

The weather was blessedly cooperative; the “Hat Creek bubble” (renowned in local fire folklore - see 7/28/13 post below) protecting us from four severe thunderstorms.  Our truck electrical issue, which plagued us for several thousand miles, was relatively minor and we have now accepted the fact that vehicle repairs are a requisite on such long trips.

But our fondest memories are ones of family and friends…visiting relatives in Houston, attending graduation with family at West Point, and playing tourist in DC and New York with our kids.  Thanks to all of you for keeping track of us, giving sightseeing suggestions, and checking on us to make sure we had not strayed too far off of our non-defined course.

Half the fun of traveling is stumbling onto unexpected surprises.  While seeing iconic places, such as Niagara Falls, Statue of Liberty, etc. are enjoyable; it felt as if we had already “experienced” them through years of exposure to their photographs.

It was the unanticipated happenings that were most enjoyable.  Moments such as the hundreds of fireflies blinking at us from the swamps in Louisiana; a huge thunderstorm billowing over us with its winds causing the tall green grasses of the rolling hills at Little Big Horn to dance; the appearance of 2 yearling moose at our campground who unpredictably encountered a black bear wandering onto the scene from the opposite direction, with them trying to decide who was most intimidating (surprisingly it was NOT us watching humans); the dank, dangerous, and claustrophobic feeling of an underground copper mine when the lights went out; driving by the 390.4 inch (that’s over 30 feet) record snow depth sign in Keweenaw County, Michigan; having a spectacular sunset suddenly explode out of an overcast sky in Utah; amusement at the realtors signs in New Orleans which specified if the property for sale was “haunted” or “not haunted” (seriously!), sitting in a prairie dog town watching the inhabitants amusing antics.

Even though we were gone for almost 60 days, we still felt like we rushed through some areas. I guess that just means there are more surprises waiting for us.

I was a little nervous about traveling in big cities – what if we got lost and found ourselves in the “wrong part of town”?  Turns out my concerns were unfounded, even when we did, inevitably, find ourselves lost in the wrong part of town.

Locals and other tourists alike were friendly, helping out when we were “misplaced”, looking for an address, or having other minor problems.  We could “feel” the friendliness of the SE, with their warm smiles, friendly “hi-y’all”, (pronounced as one, two syllable word), and asking if we needed help before we even inquired.  We were even surprised by New Yorker’s relatively frequent eye contact, often accompanied by a greeting, with their strong accent divulging their local residency.  DC however - not so much.  We nominate it as the unfriendliest town we visited.

As we travel we are continually impressed with the cultural diversity, which makes up the people of this country.  We visited a copper mine where miners spoke over 30 different languages.  We walked in big east-coast cities and can’t even begin to name the languages we heard.  We learned that Cajun’s spoke French in public schools until a 1921 revision in Louisiana’s State Constitution required speaking English.  We visited many battlefields where people of varied backgrounds and ethnicities fought on both sides and against each other.  All of them Americans.  

Travelling through 23 states we got a pretty good sample of people across the country. Certainly there were a few bad grapes but mostly the bunch was pretty good. It made us optimistic for the future, although some states really need better driver’s education.

“Itasca State Park in Minnesota contains the head of the Mississippi River.” That sounds interesting I told Kathy. So we went there. While we are standing waiting for a chance to take some pictures of the sign and the lake outlet where the Mississippi begins we notice a guy with a touring bicycle loaded with gear. He’s trying to take selfies and obviously getting a little agitated. So as we often do, we offer to take a picture for him. He is grateful and a conversation ensues. Turns out the guy is named Steve and is starting the following day to ride his bicycle the length of the Mississippi River. Steve is not a young man. As we talk it also becomes clear that Steve is not a life-time cyclist. He is on a mission. He is raising funds for a group that supports people with bone-marrow disease. And he is amped-up. His energy is infectious and he is obviously emotional about being at the start of a 2-month adventure. Imagine being of retirement age and riding your bicycle by yourself from Minnesota to the end of the road at Venice, Louisiana. In the summer. If you want to see more of Steve’s adventure including a blog, photos (we took the photos at the headwaters), and a live tracker visit Steve’s website: www.marrowquest.org

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When a new wildland firefighter started whining (and eventually they all start whining), one of the more experienced hands would ask them: “Didn’t you join up for the sunrises and sunsets?”

And yes the sunrises and sunsets were often spectacular and over places few people got to see. During this trip we have had some sunrises and sunsets too. Here our some our favorite examples – so far.

Start with a day at Kitty Hawk, where the Wright Brothers proved man could fly. Move on to the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery on Memorial Day. Stand beside the Space Shuttle Discovery and examine her battle scars from space. Travel to the US Military Academy at West Point and watch 1,000 young men and women receive their college degrees from the Commander in Chief, then immediately take a vow to protect our country as officers in a time of war. Take the train down the Hudson River to New York City. Stand in the museum and see the twisted steel from the twin towers. Look up at the new Freedom tower, 1,776 feet above the twin pits of the 9/11 Memorial. Float over to Ellis Island where tens of thousands came to our shores for the first time. And stand beside Lady Liberty, who challenges us, and the rest of the world, to live up to our promise and birthright of freedom. That is an American week.