We’ve all been there before: Friday night, you have some place to be, but all you see in front of you is a sea of red taillights, and no end in sight. For those of us who have to drive around a busy city on a daily basis, traffic is just an unfortunate regularity.
But right off of highway 395, as it passes through Carson City, there’s some traffic that’s a just a little different…tractors!
I saw these guys all lined up on the dirt outline of what will eventually become part of the highway, partly adorable and partly bizarre. Not every day you see that many tractors all so neatly lined up!
Getting good, close-up photos of wildlife takes a combination of patience, expensive lens, and luck. But mostly luck.
Now, I won’t lie, I can be a bit short on patience, and my collection of lenses is…a bit wanting, to say the least, but every once in a while I would have a bit of luck and manage to capture an image of an animal or insect that wasn’t just a grainy dot in the distance. I’ll be adding to this collection periodically throughout my detours, but just to get you started here’s one of my favorites, a rare desert horned lizard!
One of my favorite things about the Northern California/Northern Nevada area, and the Lake Tahoe area in particular, are the beautiful sunsets. The clear air, coupled with towering, majestic sunsets make for some truly incredible vistas, particularly at sundown.
Unfortunately, I tend to work a lot of night shifts and so its not often that I get a chance to photograph any of these sunsets. But tonight was one of the those rare free Friday nights, so I grabbed my camera and headed downtown, where I was treated to a wonderful display of color over Carson City. Its nights like these that I feel truly fortunate to live in this area, and to be alive in general.
Do any of you remember or still use Photobucket? Because I completely forgot that site even existed, and more importantly, a cache of photos from several years ago that I had stored there. It was like putting on a pair of pants, reaching your pocket and finding a $20 dollar bill, super exciting and totally unexpected.
Anyway, I thought I’d take some time and share some older photos of mine. First up, that one wedding I got to shoot a couple years back! I’ve always enjoyed portraiture and covering events, and back in high school I was fortunate enough to tag along with my friend (who knew one of the families involved in the wedding) and help take some photos for the bride and groom! Totally forgot I had these photos, and it was such a joy to find them again! Hope you all enjoy as well. 🙂
Well, seeing as today is officially the first day of Fall, I decided to head out and see if there were any trees starting to turn color! So far only the first glimpses of color are showing, but it looks like once the colors come in full, we here in Carson will be in for a treat!
But for now, just wonderful to see the first signs of fall!
Okay, so I’ve definitely complained a lot about the fact that San Angelo, where I spent two years of my life, was severely lacking in anything resembling scenery.
But, that’s not strictly true. There’s always beauty to be found if you’re willing to look, which really could be said of any place in the world. Anyway, one of those places was the San Angelo Lily Gardens. I didn’t get a chance to visit until blooming season was just about over, but fortunately for me, a few of the flowers were still in bloom, giving me a chance to glimpse what that gardens would be like during full bloom. Here’s a couple of shots I got while I was there, hope you enjoy!
Anyone who’s taken a high school history class can tell you that these days, history textbooks are huge. Encyclopedia Britannica huge. And expensive, sometimes costing over $100. But for all those thin pages covered in thick, dense, small-scripted words, there are a lot of things history books tend to leave out. Things like the Japanese internment camps, CIA experiments on unsuspecting citizens, and of course the United States involvement with Native Americans. Much of their history or culture is never taught in modern public schools, except for things like the infamous trail tears. The legacy of American’s original inhabitants, however, is a very important and very interesting part of history, and that’s why this week I headed out to the Steward Indian School located in Carson City, Nevada.
Boys in the harness shopFirst graduating class in 1901Stewart Indian School sewing class
The school, named for Nevada’s first senator William M. Stewart, opened on December 17th, 1890, with 37 students, three teachers, and a capacity for 100 students. The focus of the school during its early years was to assimilate the Native American children into American culture, with vocational classes such as farming, ranching, and mechanics, for boys, and for girls, classes such as nursing, baking, cooking, sewing, and laundry. In fact, the students with their newfound skills became responsible for many of the school’s basic needs. Unfortunately, many students during Stewart’s nascent years suffered as a result of the policies of assimilation; students were not allowed to speak their native language or practice their native culture.
The school grew quickly in size, as Native American children from all over the west were forced to attend the state’s only off-reservation boarding school (and the only federal school created by state legislation). By 1919, the Stewart Indian School had grown from 37 to over 400 students comprised of dozens of different tribes, including the Nevada-based Washoe and Paiute, as well as Hopi, Apache, Pima, Mohave, Walapai, Ute, and Pipago.
1919 also saw the appointment of Frederick Snyder as the school’s superintendent, who would become one of the most important and influential of the Indian School’s leaders. Between 1922 and the beginning of WWII, Snyder oversaw the construction of a majority of Stewart’s facilities, making use of natural colored stone quarried from along the Carson River. Much of the masonry and construction of the school’s buildings was completed by apprentice students using Hopi techniques, giving the school a historic and uniquely authentic look. Snyder’s efforts and direction saw the school transform into a densely wooded and finely crafted installation, rivaling in beauty and architectural prowess many American schools. The Stewart Indian School would eventually grow to contain 83 buildings on109 acres of land and a 10,000 gallon water tower.
The 1960’s saw yet another transformation with shift away from assimilation and toward academics. By this time, however, the school was entering its final years, and would finally close after almost 100 years in 1980, due to budget cuts and earthquake safety concerns about the many of the schools structures.
Today, the Stewart Indian School is owned by the state of Nevada, and is part of an Indian community established on the school’s former grounds by the Washoe Indian tribe. Most of the original structures remain standing and in fact are currently in use by the state for various offices and training facilities. Looking at the historic buildings, the attention and skill of the masons is clear, and many of the buildings contain bricks stamped with dates going as far back as the early 1920’s, marking their completion.
Some photographs of the school as it looks today:
The Stewart Indian School is a beautiful, historically significant gem hidden in plain view, and definitely worth a visit. Unfortunately, access to the school is limited due to its continued use by law enforcement and State of Nevada. After spending a little over an hour photographing some of school’s buildings, I was asked to leave by a facility official who stated that official permission was needed to be on school grounds.
Still was a great adventure, and I’m glad I was able to visit, if only for a little while, this historic area. Stay tuned for next week’s Oh-Venture!
Most wild animals, when you get anywhere near them, immediately dart away in terror, flapping their wings or legs or other appendage in panic and squawking/squeaking like mad. Getting anywhere an undomesticated animal is either impossible, or requires spending several interminable hours covered in leaves with an exceptionally expensive long lens.
My hairy, four-footed friends, however, were quite different.
I had just gotten off work, and I decided to go work a walk with my trusty sony a99. The lighting was absolutely beautiful, yesterday’s winds having blown back all the smoke, and big, puffy grey clouds hung in the sky, lit up by the golden afternoon sun.
I was walking down one of the roads near my parent’s house, snapping some pics here and there, enjoying the weather and the scenery, when I came upon a large wire fence. I walked a bit closer and I realized that the fence housed about a dozen goats! Something I, at least, definitely didn’t see every day. I think the last time I had actually seen goats up close was at a zoo on a middle school field trip, let alone twelve of them. There were all sorts of them, bigger ones with curved horns, smaller females with little ears that flicked this way and that, and then little toddler goats with spindly legs and large eyes.
As I approached the fence every single one of the dozen goat’s heads suddenly snapped up. I froze. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at me for a breath of a second. Then, as one, the entire herd of goats trotted over to the fence where I was standing and stared at me, with their unblinking rectangular pupils.
(Interesting sidenote: I actually didn’t realize until now that goats had rectangular pupils. I’m sure a lot of you knew this, but I grew up in a relatively urban area and there weren’t really a whole lot of goats or other animals around – besides cats and purse-sized dogs. Anyway, for those of you don’t know, the reason they have rectangular pupils is to allow them to collect more light and to give them a wider field of vision, in order to help them avoid predators. Evolution’s such neat thing isn’t it?)
After a while, the goats drifted back into the pen, munching contentedly on sticks and other bits of stuff on the ground. They eat pretty much anything, apparently.
They really were some funny creatures. The seemed so innocently curious, and the way they all moved together and looked at me with an almost child-like wonder and fascination was adorable. I ended up spending quite a bit of time sitting beside that fence, watching them munch on sticks to their hearts content.
Everyone once in a while one of them would saunter over to me, glance at me quizzically, then go back to munching on a stick.
Unfortunately, due to my detour, I ended up losing most of my light before I could make it to my actual destination (which is also the location for my first official Ohventure of the Week – stayed tuned for more information!) but it was a fun, totally spontaneous experience, and definitely a fun detour.
Thanks for reading and remember to keep your camera close! You never know when you might have an adventure of your own. See you tomorrow for another Daily Detour!
One last friendly goat to see wish you a happy Thursday!
For one thing, they still really like being around each other, even after two decades spent entirely in each other’s company. Everything they do, they do together. There are no “guy’s nights” or “girls’ nights”, our house has no “man cave” or secret beer closet, and my mom’s garden is a co-operated miniature farm supplying each night’s salad with fresh condiments.
And…they both love photography.
For as long as I can remember, it’s been one of their favorite things to do. Growing up, I never understood it. I’d watch as my parents, for hours and hours at a time, would stump around some ugly old building with a lump of plastic glued to their face. Sometimes we’d be driving down the highway, and then suddenly we’d pull over and my parents would jump out of the car, grab those square hunks of metal and glass, and go point them at something on the ground. They’d ooh and aww and point and stare and say things like “how neat!” or “would you look at that!”
I just didn’t get it. What was so special about that building, or that bush on the side of the road? Why did we need to spend three hours taking pictures of them? Who cared? I just wanted to go home and play with my friends.
But one day, as we were getting ready for another trip out to the desert, my dad came up to me and thrust a small black case into my hands.
“This, is camera,” he said. “Why don’t you try taking some pictures today?”
“Okay,” I mumbled. I took the camera and stared at it resentfully. It was bad enough that I couldn’t hang out with my friends that weekend, and now my dad wanted me to do work, too? Gimme a break.
Needless to say, the camera rarely left its case that weekend. I took it out a couple times, for politeness’ sake, and then stuffed it right back in. My parents, sensing my lack of enthusiasm, let the matter rest.
It wasn’t long, however, before they were back at it, pressing that familiar leather case back into my hands. “Try it,” they said. “You might like it!”
“Okay,” I mumbled.
I still didn’t really believe them. But, somehow, as we drew close to the remains of an old desert mine, I found myself drawing out the camera from its darkened lair. I trudged carefully behind my parents, dirt and debris crunching underneath my boots, silver camera clutched in my hand. In the distance a lattice of wooden beams sat decaying on a ridge, and just below it sat several large mounds of quartz and stone marking the entrance to mineshaft stretching away into the mountain. Hmmm, I thought. That mine shaft looks kinda cool…
I raised the camera, and took a picture.
Several days later, as I was sitting in my room, my parents called me into their office. They wanted me to see some of the pictures I had taken.
“You took some great shots!” said my Mom, smiling.
My Dad nodded. “Yeah, you might have an eye for this kind of thing.”
I looked up at them, eyes wide with surprise. “You really think so?”
“Sure,” my Dad replied. “Maybe you should take pictures more often.”
