Alum Creek by Day

Ethel and I found ourselves in Reno over Christmas weekend, and we decided to spend the morning of Christmas Eve hiking up a canyon that we frequently run through.  This canyon is usually snowbound through the winter as it sees no sun, but the lack of any snow combined with cold temperatures changed the landscape quite a bit.  Alum Creek managed to freeze in place, a rolling, bubbling white ribbon snaking its way through the canyon.


Stairsteps


Suspended


Tumbleweed Island


Roots and frothy ice


Alien landscape


Ice room


Profile

The section of the canyon we like to run is steep, but it's only a couple miles long and we're usually through it in 20 minutes.  Walking sure slows the pace!  By the time we made it to the waterfall at the top and then back down, 3 hours had gone by.  The best part is that the waterfall absolutely warranted a return trip under the cover of darkness; those photos are up next.

Here's to hoping everyone has a brilliant New Years holiday.

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The Gray Area

Some time ago, I got invited to take a peek into a facility that represents a huge cultural taboo as well as a source of endless debate on States' rights, legality, and morality.  I'll go ahead and stop you now if you're looking to pick a fight on any of those preceding points, and also add that this post is about drugs, so there's your fair warning.  My obvious disclaimer is that the crop in question is one that I neither use nor possess, and that I have no ties whatsoever to the facility in question or any others like it, so don't be getting your panties in a wad.

So, on a weekend morning in the not-too-distant past, I was driven to a building in California that housed a legal marijuana grow operation.  This nondescript structure stood out in no way from the surrounding buildings, and until I was led past some sparse furnishings and into a warm, humid, and tight space that housed some number of flourishing pot plants, it could have been any old flat.



There were patient prescriptions posted prominently on the wall, not unlike a restaurant's business license, except that these allow the operator to cultivate six plants for each scrip.  The walls were otherwise littered with watering and lighting schedules, with tabulated details lining out the specific methods designed to maximize the yield from each plant.  The crop from these plants was wholly processed on-site, then transported and sold to the cannabis clubs in the Bay Area.



In the eyes of California, this entire process was legal, but the current federal legislation directly contradicts California, creating a rather sticky gray area that is simply the reality for any of the thousands of growers in the state.  They play by California's rules, all the while hoping that their specific operation isn't large enough to garner any attention from the Feds, who make a point of swooping in on big grow operations just often enough to keep the war on drugs alive in the media.



The money is great; revenue per square foot eclipses what most shopkeepers or factory owners could only dream about.  And without doubt, the successful growers ain't your average hippies.  Fanatical about the particular strains they cultivate, they provide each and every plant with rabid attention and care.  It's all about yield, and every detail in the growing space is tended to with maximizing yield in mind, from thermal efficiency and light color and coverage, to fertilization and tricking the plants into as many grow cycles as possible.  Finished product is shipped to labs for analysis and documentation, the results of which are provided to the end users in the clubs.  The nuances between each strain are prized features, branding if you will, and cultivation of sought-after strains is a matter of pride.



So that's all well and good, but why the hell was I there?  Because, up close and personal, it's a fascinating and beautiful plant.  I had jumped at the opportunity to photograph the operation, and it turned out to be more of a glamor session for the grower's babies.  He pointed out the differences between the several varieties he had, and I got absolutely as macro-nasty as I could in the limited time I had.



After ducking my head and camera and flash between as many of the plants as I could, my time was up and I was driven back to my car.  It's a mighty curious standoff between the State and the Feds, but until it's resolved, growers will do what they can to reap the rewards without drawing too much attention.

We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming now.

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Plan B

Mirroring life, sometimes we leave the house with a particular goal in mind, only to return with different and unexpected bounty.  Such was the case last Saturday, when Murphy and I saddled up hours before dawn with every intention of photographing an eclipsed full moon setting over the Lake Tahoe basin.

Instead, we observed two forces working against us: first, the fact that a totally eclipsed moon ain't that bright; second, that a bank of low clouds at the horizon rendered the highly-preconceived, lack-of-sleep generating, shivered-for Money Shot an utter impossibility.  Of course, confident 'til the end that fortuitous conditions would prevail, I didn't do a whole lot with the other interesting phases of the eclipse.  Here's the best:


Hiding behind Earth

Then, the sun rose, and I was tempted to stamp my feet back to the car furious that I didn't have a photo of the setting eclipsed moon.  With a bald eagle making a silhouette across it.  In the shape of Jesus.

Instead, I looked around a bit and saw some other cool stuff.  This next little animation I'm a fan of, and I think it'll turn into a neat series of prints, as there were a couple other similar shots nearby that worked out equally well.


Granite, revealed

Finished with the first stage of salvaging the super-early morning, we retreated to the Old Post Office in Carnelian Bay for a fantastic breakfast before the customary hordes arrived.  Salvage complete!

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Discard Pile

I'll do my best to keep graphic macro photos of decommissioned body parts to a minimum, but this was just too good to pass up.


Little icebergs

Ah, wisdom teeth, we hardly knew ye.  Fare thee well!

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Luna

Every so often, I feel like seeing if I can improve upon previous results I've gotten with that big thing dangling in the sky.


12/3/2011

Most of the time, it's a frustrating and fruitless pursuit, but once in a while, it works out!

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