Photos, travels, good food, cooking, meandering, birds, and oh yeah, a bike.
Shawn Kielty Photography. All images and content are Copyright © 1982-2015, Shawn Kielty with all rights reserved, unless noted otherwise.
Friday, December 2, 2005
Zebra Problem -- No one has the Zebra
The Einstien Riddle is actually a variant (presumably) of the Zebra Problem published by Readers Digest circa 1962, see this (Scroll down) nice page by Rick Archer. Several others have attributed this to Lewis Carroll which seems plausible. The amount of chatter about it seems to be recent, however, giving the most plausibility to the readers digest theory (personal testimony does have it's merits).
Statements
1 5 different colored houses on a street, with five men of different nationalities living in them. Each man has a different profession. Each man likes a different drink. Each man has a different pet animal.
2 The Englishman lives in the red house.
3 The Spaniard has a dog.
4 The Japanese is a painter.
5 The Italian drinks tea.
6 The Norwegian lives in the first house on the left.
7 The owner of the green house drinks coffee.
8 The green house is on the right of the white house.
9 The sculptor breeds snails.
10 The diplomat lives in the yellow house.
11 They drink milk in the middle house.
12 The Norwegian lives next door to the blue house.
13 The violinist drinks fruit juice.
14 The fox is in the house next to the doctor's.
15 The horse is in the house next to the diplomat's.
The question? Who has the zebra and who drinks water ?
I believe the solution will be the same as the Einstein Riddle (see this).
Since zebra and the water are in the question only and not in the rules -- it is possible that the 5th animal is cranes -- and the fifth beverage is soda - and therefore no one has any fish, nor drinks any water. This doesn't constitute the answer, but determines that the answer is a set of possible solutions that includes no water drinker and no zebra owner, and no water drinker or no zebra owner.
Statements
1 5 different colored houses on a street, with five men of different nationalities living in them. Each man has a different profession. Each man likes a different drink. Each man has a different pet animal.
2 The Englishman lives in the red house.
3 The Spaniard has a dog.
4 The Japanese is a painter.
5 The Italian drinks tea.
6 The Norwegian lives in the first house on the left.
7 The owner of the green house drinks coffee.
8 The green house is on the right of the white house.
9 The sculptor breeds snails.
10 The diplomat lives in the yellow house.
11 They drink milk in the middle house.
12 The Norwegian lives next door to the blue house.
13 The violinist drinks fruit juice.
14 The fox is in the house next to the doctor's.
15 The horse is in the house next to the diplomat's.
The question? Who has the zebra and who drinks water ?
I believe the solution will be the same as the Einstein Riddle (see this).
Since zebra and the water are in the question only and not in the rules -- it is possible that the 5th animal is cranes -- and the fifth beverage is soda - and therefore no one has any fish, nor drinks any water. This doesn't constitute the answer, but determines that the answer is a set of possible solutions that includes no water drinker and no zebra owner, and no water drinker or no zebra owner.
Thursday, December 1, 2005
Oh Gosh -- Pop -- Have a look.
I bet it would be hard to solve these with a slide rule. I always read the blogs of note -- and today's was nice. Most Some people should enjoy this. She is pretty smart I guess. This prompted me to think of a good question.
Einstein's Riddle.
1. On a street there are five houses, painted five different colors.
2. In each house lives a person of a different nationality.
3. These five homeowners each drink a different kind of beverage, smoke a
different brand of cigar and have a different pet.
The question? Who owns the fish?
The Clues
1. The Brit lives in a red house.
2. The Swede keeps dogs as pets.
3. The Dane drinks tea.
4. The Green house is on the left of the White house.
5. The owner of the Green house drinks coffee.
6. The person who smokes Pall Mall rears birds.
7. The owner of the Yellow house smokes Dunhill.
8. The man living in the centre house drinks milk.
9. The Norwegian lives in the first house.
10. The man who smokes Blends lives next to the one who keeps cats.
11. The man who keeps horses lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill.
12. The man who smokes Blue Master drinks beer.
13. The German smokes Prince.
14. The Norwegian lives next to the blue house.
15. The man who smokes Blends has a neighbor who drinks water.
Please don't tell me the answer -- OK? Yeah right. The real beauty of this is the simple truth of it. If I tell you that I know who is the owner of the fish and who it is, it doesn't really spoil it for you -- because you won't believe me. First -- it requires verification against a complex set of rules, and second -- knowing that won't even come close to helping find the solution. Finding the solution allows for some assumptions, so there are several different matrices that arrive at the conclusion which -- once discovered will just mean you write in the word fish.
What is a more interesting question to me is how to solve it. Any sort of brute force algorithm seems out of the question. Trail and error combined with intuition and and logic was very fruitful. I expected this to be harder to solve. Stochastic hillclimbing could be an interesting way to solve this. I wonder if I can figure out what that means exactly.
Einstein's Riddle.
1. On a street there are five houses, painted five different colors.
2. In each house lives a person of a different nationality.
3. These five homeowners each drink a different kind of beverage, smoke a
different brand of cigar and have a different pet.
The question? Who owns the fish?
The Clues
1. The Brit lives in a red house.
2. The Swede keeps dogs as pets.
3. The Dane drinks tea.
4. The Green house is on the left of the White house.
5. The owner of the Green house drinks coffee.
6. The person who smokes Pall Mall rears birds.
7. The owner of the Yellow house smokes Dunhill.
8. The man living in the centre house drinks milk.
9. The Norwegian lives in the first house.
10. The man who smokes Blends lives next to the one who keeps cats.
11. The man who keeps horses lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill.
12. The man who smokes Blue Master drinks beer.
13. The German smokes Prince.
14. The Norwegian lives next to the blue house.
15. The man who smokes Blends has a neighbor who drinks water.
Please don't tell me the answer -- OK? Yeah right. The real beauty of this is the simple truth of it. If I tell you that I know who is the owner of the fish and who it is, it doesn't really spoil it for you -- because you won't believe me. First -- it requires verification against a complex set of rules, and second -- knowing that won't even come close to helping find the solution. Finding the solution allows for some assumptions, so there are several different matrices that arrive at the conclusion which -- once discovered will just mean you write in the word fish.
What is a more interesting question to me is how to solve it. Any sort of brute force algorithm seems out of the question. Trail and error combined with intuition and and logic was very fruitful. I expected this to be harder to solve. Stochastic hillclimbing could be an interesting way to solve this. I wonder if I can figure out what that means exactly.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Camera Toss
Just grab any expensive hunk of gear and throw it around a bit. Despite the apparent crazyness of this -- the images are cute. Have a look. I may try it with my Graflex.
Despite the apparent randomness of the images, author Ryan Gallagher (clickykbd on flickr) clearly proves in these instructions that it is possible to control elements in the image. Go figure -- now it's looking like an art form.
Despite the apparent randomness of the images, author Ryan Gallagher (clickykbd on flickr) clearly proves in these instructions that it is possible to control elements in the image. Go figure -- now it's looking like an art form.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Sheephole Valley
Sunday, November 20, 2005
"Do You Want Room?"
"A room? No, just the coffee." In the vernacular of the beautiful people, "Room" is leaving space for cream. It's a good thing we have active minds, otherwise grande and venti would be Italian words and ventiTM would mean nothing rather than being the beginning of an 800 calorie drink order. We really should not go there. It's better to order the tall coffee black with two extra shots (more of that unitelligible lexicon) with room.
All of this is going on in the cafe -- as I reel from the strange dreams I had last night. I was the star of some obscure screen chase scene which involved a sophisticated James Bond style hit, complete with special flying rideable objects, and a chance to meet an tremendously asshole version of Tom Cruise, all backed up with a cowboy junkies soundtrack, all of which I wrote in my sleep. It seems to have taken place in a post Rita New Orleans -- with the final scenes taking place in a newly rebuilt floating city -- perhaps on lake Ponchantrain. Our star screams "I'm free," as he falls over backwards into the abyss.
So I am thinking ... as I grab my coffee, that I want to photograph the Cowboy Junkies when they are here in Phoenix -- and that I want to negotiate their album deal with the beautiful people.
"MURDER, TONIGHT, IN THE TRAILER PARK
(Michael Timmins)
Murder tonight in the trailer park
Mrs. Annabelle Evans found
with her throat cut after dark
Her pockets turned inside out
her dresser drawers turned upside down
Anna's neighbour, Peg, identifies the body
lets out a hollow kind of sound
Homicide is tying yellow ribbons
around her silver Airstream
Red cherries slashing up the night
cutting through that cordoned crime scene
There's been a murder
in the trailer park tonight
Murder tonight in the trailer park
Pack your things Ann Marie,
we're heading west
we're going to make a fresh start
I've been saving pennies,
been looking forward to this day
No time for questions are you coming
or are you going to stay?"
The Cowboy Junkies.
OK, maybe not then.
There is some evidence that the word ventiTM is indeed a registered trade mark of Starbucks.
All of this is going on in the cafe -- as I reel from the strange dreams I had last night. I was the star of some obscure screen chase scene which involved a sophisticated James Bond style hit, complete with special flying rideable objects, and a chance to meet an tremendously asshole version of Tom Cruise, all backed up with a cowboy junkies soundtrack, all of which I wrote in my sleep. It seems to have taken place in a post Rita New Orleans -- with the final scenes taking place in a newly rebuilt floating city -- perhaps on lake Ponchantrain. Our star screams "I'm free," as he falls over backwards into the abyss.
So I am thinking ... as I grab my coffee, that I want to photograph the Cowboy Junkies when they are here in Phoenix -- and that I want to negotiate their album deal with the beautiful people.
"MURDER, TONIGHT, IN THE TRAILER PARK
(Michael Timmins)
Murder tonight in the trailer park
Mrs. Annabelle Evans found
with her throat cut after dark
Her pockets turned inside out
her dresser drawers turned upside down
Anna's neighbour, Peg, identifies the body
lets out a hollow kind of sound
Homicide is tying yellow ribbons
around her silver Airstream
Red cherries slashing up the night
cutting through that cordoned crime scene
There's been a murder
in the trailer park tonight
Murder tonight in the trailer park
Pack your things Ann Marie,
we're heading west
we're going to make a fresh start
I've been saving pennies,
been looking forward to this day
No time for questions are you coming
or are you going to stay?"
The Cowboy Junkies.
OK, maybe not then.
There is some evidence that the word ventiTM is indeed a registered trade mark of Starbucks.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Cool shots of a hot deal
By my aquaintance Rob Cromar. This is the best of the best, fortunately Rob's home was spared. This was a brush fire in LA county.
It Sleeps 'til Noon
A bloody stain opens the sky with the wilderness pressed against it, tearing the day into being, It's the hour of the Pearl, the first of the day. The predative feast is ending, the first bird arrives at the feeder. Its a new day; yes, we made it through another night. Lights from the neighbor's truck breech the dawn, ok "everybody up." Grumble. It's chilly this morning and the coffee is good. I went out for coffee this morning, in the before dawn time. Down at the local cafe -- the cafe of the beautiful people -- the sports cars were out. Early morning Thunderbirds and Corvettes lining up to feast on the prey around or of the coffee -- then add me in my beat up truck. Hand me the paper sir. "Thank you." I guess not all of the predators are resting now.
A song about Tuesday morning creaks out of the radio -- "I admit there are times when I miss you, especially right now when I need someone to hold me, ... but there are some things that can never be forgiven." The rabbit and the doves feasting in the predawn light -- just a few feet from me -- I believe the rabbit is in the same pecking order as the doves. They seem to get along pretty well.
I daydream about sleeping till noon. It's hard to sleep till noon in the desert -- the workday is over by then. What I long for I can't describe -- it's not really sleeping till noon -- but rather the lazy morning shared. Alas. there was a girl at the Cafe yesterday -- I didn't actually meet her -- but there was something, a familiarity was there. That thing that promises to deliver emergency late night sex later. Or that lazy morning shared. I think I will make some coffee, and see just what shows up at the feeder.
A song about Tuesday morning creaks out of the radio -- "I admit there are times when I miss you, especially right now when I need someone to hold me, ... but there are some things that can never be forgiven." The rabbit and the doves feasting in the predawn light -- just a few feet from me -- I believe the rabbit is in the same pecking order as the doves. They seem to get along pretty well.
I daydream about sleeping till noon. It's hard to sleep till noon in the desert -- the workday is over by then. What I long for I can't describe -- it's not really sleeping till noon -- but rather the lazy morning shared. Alas. there was a girl at the Cafe yesterday -- I didn't actually meet her -- but there was something, a familiarity was there. That thing that promises to deliver emergency late night sex later. Or that lazy morning shared. I think I will make some coffee, and see just what shows up at the feeder.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Free From Impunity
Impunity ...
im·pu·ni·ty ( P ) Pronunciation Key (m-pyn-t)n. pl. im·pu·ni·ties
Exemption from punishment, penalty, or harm.
[Latin impnits, from impne, without punishment : in-, not; see in-1 + poena, penalty (from Greek poin. See kwei-1 in Indo-European Roots).]
from the American Heritage Dictionary -- thanks to http://www.dictionary.com
I have none actually. I want to talk about the people around me today. This morning. I can't actually. I can't mention the woman with tattoos who appears to no longer work here (we could call her "tattoo girl" if we were so inclined). Nor even mention the woman here that I would love to flirt with. I can't mention these people. Other people I work with and know will see this, and there will be consequences. They will know I am talking about them on my blog and I will be punished repeatedly.
The person sitting across from me is Ron Burgundy, Anchorman (you know -- he was also in that movie). I can talk about him, because he's not a real person, he's a Dilbertism. He's a wholly ficticious character (in this context) created by one of my co-workers through the simple act of adding a nameplate to an empty cube. His cube has gotten cleaned up -- his trash gets emptied (more frequently than mine, it seems) -- and an assortment of appropriate desktop items has shown up, including an "easy" button, calculator, glasses, etc. People are starting to ask for him. Apperently he already has some responsibilities.
Yesterday he actually showed up, laptop in hand, and sat down and did some work. We were all pretty surprised.
im·pu·ni·ty ( P ) Pronunciation Key (m-pyn-t)n. pl. im·pu·ni·ties
Exemption from punishment, penalty, or harm.
[Latin impnits, from impne, without punishment : in-, not; see in-1 + poena, penalty (from Greek poin. See kwei-1 in Indo-European Roots).]
from the American Heritage Dictionary -- thanks to http://www.dictionary.com
I have none actually. I want to talk about the people around me today. This morning. I can't actually. I can't mention the woman with tattoos who appears to no longer work here (we could call her "tattoo girl" if we were so inclined). Nor even mention the woman here that I would love to flirt with. I can't mention these people. Other people I work with and know will see this, and there will be consequences. They will know I am talking about them on my blog and I will be punished repeatedly.
The person sitting across from me is Ron Burgundy, Anchorman (you know -- he was also in that movie). I can talk about him, because he's not a real person, he's a Dilbertism. He's a wholly ficticious character (in this context) created by one of my co-workers through the simple act of adding a nameplate to an empty cube. His cube has gotten cleaned up -- his trash gets emptied (more frequently than mine, it seems) -- and an assortment of appropriate desktop items has shown up, including an "easy" button, calculator, glasses, etc. People are starting to ask for him. Apperently he already has some responsibilities.
Yesterday he actually showed up, laptop in hand, and sat down and did some work. We were all pretty surprised.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Superstition Ridgeline
Sunday, November 6, 2005
My Life's a Book
I took the book quiz over at Blue Pyramid. To wit:
Co-opted from here
You're Lolita!
by Vladimir Nabokov
Considered by most to be depraved and immoral, you are obsessed with
sex. What really tantalizes you is that which deviates from societal standards in every
way, though you admit that this probably isn't the best and you're not sure what causes
this desire. Nonetheless, you've done some pretty nefarious things in your life, and
probably gotten caught for them. The names have been changed, but the problems are real.
Please stay away from children.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Co-opted from here
Saturday, November 5, 2005
It's Wednesday Morning, August 10
In San Francisco -- They never call it "Frisco" -- you must know; it's the local code. Technically it's Saturday morning and I am reading the San Francisco Chronicle, drinking heavy swill from a sandblasted grand canyon discovery coffee cup. This is something I have done most Saturdays for most of my life. Except for the last year and a half. Today though, I am longing for the familiar faces that have fed me for most of my adult life.
The internet changes the way get the world, and I find that I am more in control. I have always enjoyed Adair Lara, so I set out to find what she has written lately. On an earlier day I would have went out and bought a copy of the chronicle and sat in my favorite local cafe, and leafed through it. Since she is not in it on Saturday, I would have been stuck with Jon Carroll, which would have been ok, but not what I wanted.
In looking up Adair Lara I found out that she is 51 and find myself daydreaming about dating her, since I now know what she looks like, and that she is basically my age, and probably helps to explain why her candid prose has resonated with me. Never mind that though, I am sure she is busy. In my search the most recent article I found was August 10, and it's a story about birdnesters (I never knew), and about a guy who got a restraining order for sneaking into his house to make his kids pancakes on a Saturday morning (I should try that). Birdnesters are folks that both move out and leave the kids in the house when they split. Nice idea.
I miss the pink section too. This leads me to take on Kenneth Baker's latest scribbling, which reminds that art is mostly a reference to other art these days. What could we possibly be as artists if not for Jasper Johns and Franz Kline giving us something to talk about. I'd like to hear Robert Hughes take on that, the thought of which leaves me thinking something like this (to quote Orwell): "You have to be an intellectual to believe such nonsense."
Living here in the desert has it's moments -- and Saturday morning is indeed one of them. The rabbits are nourising themselves on the flowers outside and the quail are eating rocks in their morning spot. Maybe I should make some art that isn't about Georgia O'Keefe. I think I will warm up my coffee first.
The internet changes the way get the world, and I find that I am more in control. I have always enjoyed Adair Lara, so I set out to find what she has written lately. On an earlier day I would have went out and bought a copy of the chronicle and sat in my favorite local cafe, and leafed through it. Since she is not in it on Saturday, I would have been stuck with Jon Carroll, which would have been ok, but not what I wanted.
In looking up Adair Lara I found out that she is 51 and find myself daydreaming about dating her, since I now know what she looks like, and that she is basically my age, and probably helps to explain why her candid prose has resonated with me. Never mind that though, I am sure she is busy. In my search the most recent article I found was August 10, and it's a story about birdnesters (I never knew), and about a guy who got a restraining order for sneaking into his house to make his kids pancakes on a Saturday morning (I should try that). Birdnesters are folks that both move out and leave the kids in the house when they split. Nice idea.
I miss the pink section too. This leads me to take on Kenneth Baker's latest scribbling, which reminds that art is mostly a reference to other art these days. What could we possibly be as artists if not for Jasper Johns and Franz Kline giving us something to talk about. I'd like to hear Robert Hughes take on that, the thought of which leaves me thinking something like this (to quote Orwell): "You have to be an intellectual to believe such nonsense."
Living here in the desert has it's moments -- and Saturday morning is indeed one of them. The rabbits are nourising themselves on the flowers outside and the quail are eating rocks in their morning spot. Maybe I should make some art that isn't about Georgia O'Keefe. I think I will warm up my coffee first.
Friday, November 4, 2005
Tortured Conceptual Postmodernist?
You are a Tortured Conceptual Artist. Your fellow
postmodernists call you an anachronism, but
you've never cared much about the opinions of
others. After all, most of them are far too
simple-minded to appreciate the nuances of your
work. They talk, while you are part of a lived
tradition.
What kind of postmodernist are you!?
brought to you by Quizilla
Stolen from Not Exactly Rocket Science. I did, however, take the quiz to come to this result.
Your Junk
Follow these instructions to send your junk off to snail mail spammers. Freshly stolen from CalTechGirls post on GutRumbles
Thursday, November 3, 2005
I QUIT
I quit. July 17 2005. Mesa, AZ. I quit smoking. I have quit before. But this -- is different. I am inspired. And motivated. I quit to live. I quit because my daughter was coming to have a vacation with me. I quit because she hates it -- and she doesn't want to breathe it. I quit because she is right -- and because I care about her, and I care enough to want to live longer to enjoy her. The unprotected truth is that smoking kills people. It's killing my mother. And lung cancer alone will kill 140,000 smokers in America this year, and 3000,00 more from other smoking related illnesses (http://abcnews.go.com/WNT/QuitToLive/). I don't have any statistics for throat cancer, nouth cancers, or emphysema. I look at the side of the package -- and it says "smoking *may* cause birth defects" and it signed by the surgeon general of the United States.
I thought the surgeon general was probably a fairly bright person, Guess what -- probably not. Ok -- so you can use nicotine to kll bugs -- aphids for example. Make a solution out of water and a few cigarettes -- spray it on your roses - poooffft -- aphids die. Leave this out for your toddlers to drink -- they could die too. Why? Nicotine is a poison.
Let's go back to the Surgeon General. The cigarette package should say -- "This is a poison, do not drink swallow or eat these, or ingest the contents in any way, including smoking. If ingested seek immediate medical attention. Call 911." Anyone in their right mind knows today that smoking kills people, the people who smoke, and some people who don't. So -- what is the Surgeon General thinking?
I thought the surgeon general was probably a fairly bright person, Guess what -- probably not. Ok -- so you can use nicotine to kll bugs -- aphids for example. Make a solution out of water and a few cigarettes -- spray it on your roses - poooffft -- aphids die. Leave this out for your toddlers to drink -- they could die too. Why? Nicotine is a poison.
Let's go back to the Surgeon General. The cigarette package should say -- "This is a poison, do not drink swallow or eat these, or ingest the contents in any way, including smoking. If ingested seek immediate medical attention. Call 911." Anyone in their right mind knows today that smoking kills people, the people who smoke, and some people who don't. So -- what is the Surgeon General thinking?
Shawn's garlic and hot pepper pasta
Jar of Classico pasta sauce
3 cheese tortellini
6 cloves Garlic
2 hot italian sausage
Bell pepper
1 small jalapeno chopped
parmesan cheese
Salt
Pepper
Cook the crumbled sausage to brown while starting the water for the pasta. Start the sauce in a seperate sauce pan. Crush and chop the Garlic and chop the peppers and onion and add to the sausage after the sausage is brown. When the onions turn translucent turn the whole mess into the sauce. Add about 2 T of grated Parmesan to the sauce and pepper to taste. Add the pasta to the water after it boils and keep it at a rolling boil until it is al dente.
Combine the pasta and the sauce ont the plate and top with parmesan cheese. Enjoy with french bread.
3 cheese tortellini
6 cloves Garlic
2 hot italian sausage
Bell pepper
1 small jalapeno chopped
parmesan cheese
Salt
Pepper
Cook the crumbled sausage to brown while starting the water for the pasta. Start the sauce in a seperate sauce pan. Crush and chop the Garlic and chop the peppers and onion and add to the sausage after the sausage is brown. When the onions turn translucent turn the whole mess into the sauce. Add about 2 T of grated Parmesan to the sauce and pepper to taste. Add the pasta to the water after it boils and keep it at a rolling boil until it is al dente.
Combine the pasta and the sauce ont the plate and top with parmesan cheese. Enjoy with french bread.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Unqualified
East of Mesa AZ -- So I hear -- I live too far from the phone company, now that I have finally managaged to escape from suburbia. the price of this escape may be high. I get well water now instead of the colorado river. I am "Unqualified" for the DSL service. The down side is -- My web site will be down for a bit longer. There is no sign of the pearly cat's sister bamboozle -- I fear the worst.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
The Cat Owl.
© 2005, Shawn Kielty. All rights reserved.
PearltheCat is mighty upset right now and a bit bemused at the apparent loss of her sister Bamboo -- and her subsequent grounding (No more late nights out for that girl) -- what is a cat if not free? According to this article the horned owl can and will kill domestic cats. It seems that the site is ambiguous about the benefit and value of the domestic cat to humans, but really clear about the value of the wild birds the domestic cats kill. Despite the appearance of a large amount of credibility -- i.e. "The Raptor Center", the quality of the writing seems to defy that. To wit:
"Economic Importance for Humans
Positive
The great horned owl controls harmful rat and mice populations throughout the United States. They kill domestic cats which in turn would have killed wild birds that humans value.
Negative
The great horned owl is capable of destroying game birds and animals. Poultry is also a favorite of the owls because they are easily captured. The occasional domestic cat can also fall victim to the great horned owl."
Get out the
He (the cat eating owl) is right in the yard -- every night except tonight. Maybe the rock band next door is interfering with his ability to hunt cats . Maybe the cat he ate the other night is keeping him so full he can share with the vultures and doesn't have to hunt. Perhaps he has died from indigestion.
Pearl the Cat was reading over my shoulder and suggested I post her picture on this man's map. I think that she thought that might make me feel better. I think maybe she is bored because I won't let her go out and play tease the coyotes.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Out of touch for a bit
I will -- for the most part -- be off line till Friday -- due to the move. If I ever find my cats -- I will be happy. Email will be sparsely responded to, but for the most part not read and thrown away. See you later in the week.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Coyotes
© Shawn Kielty 2005. All rights reserved.
... my cats are getting nervous. They don't know that they are in danger -- they are just nervous because the normal stuff in their home is leaving. They don't know that they are about to displace a family of coyotes. They don't realize that thier outdoor world is going to include real predators -- like great horned owls, racoons and coyotes. But they are nervous. I fear for them. I know that when they lived in the junkyard in Hayward, CA that they were in danger. Their psycho mother -- the black attack cat bitch -- protected them.
... my cats are getting nervous. They don't know that they are in danger -- they are just nervous because the normal stuff in their home is leaving. They don't know that they are about to displace a family of coyotes. They don't realize that thier outdoor world is going to include real predators -- like great horned owls, racoons and coyotes. But they are nervous. I fear for them. I know that when they lived in the junkyard in Hayward, CA that they were in danger. Their psycho mother -- the black attack cat bitch -- protected them.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Re-entry
It is hard to summarize a trip like this, twelve days on a raft, the Colorado River, infinite detail. I have returned. Re-entry is a bit confusing and the various parts of my body hurt. It was good. I saw a condor. Everything is dirty and there is sand in every place possible. There are some 700 images and laundry to do ... There will be more later.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Trip Day
© Shawn Kielty, 2005, all rights reserved.
Remember, "Super GlueTM is good for cracked skin."
Enter the wilderness. Some things, you gotta do alone. Be healthy, keep your wits, be smart, carry a flashlight and use your sense of smell. Protect yourself at all costs. Pay attention, because the pre-game show is over. As I pack the final items, I worry because this is the first guided tour I have ever taken of the wilderness, I might bring the wrong drinks, or the wrong kind of soap. It's a mediated experience of the wilderness, not my first. But my first like this. I usually go into the wilderness alone or with a disciple. It's easier that way. If I screw up, I suffer the consequences (my poor disciple). I hope I'll know what to look at, when to take a picture. I have the perfect luggage and a purple shirt -- so I think I'll be ok.
As my father always said in every case when things were uncomfortable, "It's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick." Hopefully, the river gods will be benevolent. Maybe, later I'll have a good story to tell.
I'll see you on the other side.
Monday, September 5, 2005
My Favorite Mile
Photo Chris Raye, © 2005, all rights reserved.
Oh man -- yesterday I made my first ascent of Camelback, via Echo Canyon, 1200 ft verticle over 1.2 miles. A young woman passed me on the way up. She smelled sweet like sweat while I was dying behind her, feeling old. Yep, I hiked that mile. I only had to break a few times. She reminded me of what I once lived for. What I once was.
My favorite mile now isn't that one. It's less seductive. Camelback is filled with gorgeous people. Beautiful people. It has fences and handrails, and GucciTM sunglasses, and expansive views -- and is a very serious mile. There is glamour in it. I hear it is the toughest of the seven Phoenix peaks.
The first mile and back of the hike to the wind cave on pass mountain has no glamour; this is my mile or two. What I want is this - a moderate to strenous hike -- on a good trail . I want to go there everyday, before breakfast. Later in my life I can run it.
This hike gets tougher as you go -- 1.6 miles to the wind cave on pass mountain. It is about 10 minutes from my house, and about an hour round trip.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Monday, July 18, 2005
Thursday, June 30, 2005
An Ode to My Boots
I have this old pair of boots that I bought when I was a grad student in Pullman, Washington in 1994. I was cold and tired of slipping around on the ice and having wet feet from the snow. They were rated to –40 degrees and waterproof, and had what looked to be leather uppers. I moaned at the price and my shopping friend disagreed laughing, but I bought and put them on immediately. It took months to break them in – but they were warm and comfy all through the process. They had Vibram soles and blue laces. I stopped slipping and was rarely cold after that.
It’s been a few years since then, and now when I look at those boots I can see right through the soles to where a sock would live, having finally given them up for dead when I started wearing holes in my socks. 10 years have passed. During those ten years, we (my boots and I) have been in four countries, on two continents – and in fourty four states, and a myriad of national parks, national monuments, and wildlife refuges. We have bagged peaks in the Adirondacks, the Rockies, and throughout the Northwest and California. We have waded together in some of the coldest rivers around, and some of the nastiest, remembering now that I once forsook my trusty boots for barefoot small mouth trout (I mean bass) fishing in the Huron River, only to be rewarded with a nasty cut. I put the boots on and continued. I have worn them to cast bronze, weld and grind things, used them to hold hot metal, and as a hammer. I have literally mistakenly beaten them with a hammer. Together we have been on glaciers, in the snow, the streets of major world cities – and through at least a thousand miles of desert in the summer, and made a few hundred sculptures.
I don’t remember them saying they would be good to 120 degrees, but once they were worn, they were fine. Once I even won a prize at a basketball game because I had blue shoelaces (the person sitting next to me had a picture of a fish in her wallet – and also won a prize). The death knell for these old friends finally came when I was moving out of my warehouse loft. After a week of 16 hour days – literally standing and walking on those poor soles, I caught the hole in the sole on a nail in the floor and ripped the boot open. I had a funeral in the yard.
I want another pair, I tell myself. And the only thing I know about them is that they are Merrell’s, size 8 and 1/2, I think. I go to the store. There’s nothing that even looks like these boots. I look at the old boots. There’s a marking on the tongue, “WTC” it says. A search of the web reveals “ultra watertight construction” is the predominant feature. I can’t find them anywhere. I even looked on Ebay. I go to the web site for Merrell. Lot’s of sandles … but I am not finding my boots. I can’t believe it. I am thinking that these were the best boots ever made. Why on earth would anyone stop manufacturing them.
I am now throwing away the fourth pair of boots I have owned since 1994, this time it’s a pair of Vasque Zephyrs, which crush my toes and cause serious pain in the ball of one foot -- and blister my toes. They are barely broken in. I can remember walking 12 miles as though it were nothing in those WTC boots. If I were in a pinch I could easily have walked 20.
Since I firmly believed that Merrell made the best boots ever, when I was unable to find the replacement boots, I chose a Merrell boot, a light weight “Ventilator,” whose predominant feature was slipping on any wet surface. They are unrivaled in being the worst shoes I have ever owned. They are shit. I have almost died now about 50 times. They provide almost no support anywhere – and are useless with a pack. They actually cause the ball of my foot to feel crushed. Additionally, I bought a pair of low top ventilators, which almost threw me into the Rogue river at the narrows from a height of about 200 ft, due to the very same slipping characteristic. I threw those away that day because I was afraid to take them to the goodwill, out of fear they might kill someone there. If you happen to be a shoe manufacturer or designer, you should pay attention to this part: I swear, I will never put another boot on my feet unless it has a yellow vibram label and squarish lugs. If you want me to buy anything else – you must provide a compelling argument that if I step onto a moss covered rock during a creek crossing with 50 pounds on my back, that they will find a way to stick, or at least help me not to fall. That really means you better start putting some wet moss covered rocks into the store with the boots.
After trying that (the ventilators) I went down to the local independent shoe store (we’ll leave RedWing out of this, because they make pretty good shoes), and bought the Vasques. I have had the boots for about a year, and they stick to everything except my wet patio (they have vibram soles, go figure), and provide great ankle support. I went for a 2 mile hike four days ago in the Superstition Wilderness, and three days later my feet feel like they have been beaten with a hammer. What I really don’t understand is why I can’t seem to find a pair of boots that I can put through hell, and will grab the ground, keep me warm, and protect my feet from damage, whether I am stepping into the icy Couer D’Alene or the deserts of Death Valley, a parking lot in Phoenix, or a scrabble covered trail. I want a pair of boots that loves me and trusts me enough to let me decide where it’s safe to put my feet. Granted they all look cool and high tech, but they don’t work. I want a pair of boots that stands up to what I dish out and performs, not a pair that asks me to put up with them.
I think I am going to have to go out into the yard and dig up those old decent boots, my old friends, and put some new soles on them.
Copyright 2005, Shawn Kielty, all rights reserved.
It’s been a few years since then, and now when I look at those boots I can see right through the soles to where a sock would live, having finally given them up for dead when I started wearing holes in my socks. 10 years have passed. During those ten years, we (my boots and I) have been in four countries, on two continents – and in fourty four states, and a myriad of national parks, national monuments, and wildlife refuges. We have bagged peaks in the Adirondacks, the Rockies, and throughout the Northwest and California. We have waded together in some of the coldest rivers around, and some of the nastiest, remembering now that I once forsook my trusty boots for barefoot small mouth trout (I mean bass) fishing in the Huron River, only to be rewarded with a nasty cut. I put the boots on and continued. I have worn them to cast bronze, weld and grind things, used them to hold hot metal, and as a hammer. I have literally mistakenly beaten them with a hammer. Together we have been on glaciers, in the snow, the streets of major world cities – and through at least a thousand miles of desert in the summer, and made a few hundred sculptures.
I don’t remember them saying they would be good to 120 degrees, but once they were worn, they were fine. Once I even won a prize at a basketball game because I had blue shoelaces (the person sitting next to me had a picture of a fish in her wallet – and also won a prize). The death knell for these old friends finally came when I was moving out of my warehouse loft. After a week of 16 hour days – literally standing and walking on those poor soles, I caught the hole in the sole on a nail in the floor and ripped the boot open. I had a funeral in the yard.
I want another pair, I tell myself. And the only thing I know about them is that they are Merrell’s, size 8 and 1/2, I think. I go to the store. There’s nothing that even looks like these boots. I look at the old boots. There’s a marking on the tongue, “WTC” it says. A search of the web reveals “ultra watertight construction” is the predominant feature. I can’t find them anywhere. I even looked on Ebay. I go to the web site for Merrell. Lot’s of sandles … but I am not finding my boots. I can’t believe it. I am thinking that these were the best boots ever made. Why on earth would anyone stop manufacturing them.
I am now throwing away the fourth pair of boots I have owned since 1994, this time it’s a pair of Vasque Zephyrs, which crush my toes and cause serious pain in the ball of one foot -- and blister my toes. They are barely broken in. I can remember walking 12 miles as though it were nothing in those WTC boots. If I were in a pinch I could easily have walked 20.
Since I firmly believed that Merrell made the best boots ever, when I was unable to find the replacement boots, I chose a Merrell boot, a light weight “Ventilator,” whose predominant feature was slipping on any wet surface. They are unrivaled in being the worst shoes I have ever owned. They are shit. I have almost died now about 50 times. They provide almost no support anywhere – and are useless with a pack. They actually cause the ball of my foot to feel crushed. Additionally, I bought a pair of low top ventilators, which almost threw me into the Rogue river at the narrows from a height of about 200 ft, due to the very same slipping characteristic. I threw those away that day because I was afraid to take them to the goodwill, out of fear they might kill someone there. If you happen to be a shoe manufacturer or designer, you should pay attention to this part: I swear, I will never put another boot on my feet unless it has a yellow vibram label and squarish lugs. If you want me to buy anything else – you must provide a compelling argument that if I step onto a moss covered rock during a creek crossing with 50 pounds on my back, that they will find a way to stick, or at least help me not to fall. That really means you better start putting some wet moss covered rocks into the store with the boots.
After trying that (the ventilators) I went down to the local independent shoe store (we’ll leave RedWing out of this, because they make pretty good shoes), and bought the Vasques. I have had the boots for about a year, and they stick to everything except my wet patio (they have vibram soles, go figure), and provide great ankle support. I went for a 2 mile hike four days ago in the Superstition Wilderness, and three days later my feet feel like they have been beaten with a hammer. What I really don’t understand is why I can’t seem to find a pair of boots that I can put through hell, and will grab the ground, keep me warm, and protect my feet from damage, whether I am stepping into the icy Couer D’Alene or the deserts of Death Valley, a parking lot in Phoenix, or a scrabble covered trail. I want a pair of boots that loves me and trusts me enough to let me decide where it’s safe to put my feet. Granted they all look cool and high tech, but they don’t work. I want a pair of boots that stands up to what I dish out and performs, not a pair that asks me to put up with them.
I think I am going to have to go out into the yard and dig up those old decent boots, my old friends, and put some new soles on them.
Copyright 2005, Shawn Kielty, all rights reserved.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Umbrella Crowd
Sunday, May 22, 2005
A Year in Pictures
For what it's worth, I just put together about a year worth of shots into a portfolio. So here's what A Year in Pictures looks like, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Enjoy.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Zion Canyon Falls
March 23, 2005, Late afternoon. I worked hard in trying to capture this image. Zion has a wild quiet charm in the spring, as the trees bud out and the wet flow is heavy in and across the red earth. As it was seemingly always cloudy during this trip, again I find myself trying to get closer to the image, to the very rock and water itself. Zion Canyon is a long story of water and rock, and ever present power. The falls and presence of the stone humble me, make me feel threatened, and sweetly -- I delight in the knowledge that I am safe from it. As I compose, and shoot, I am thinking that there must be a way for me to capture the presence I feel in this canyon. I wonder.
"If man's imagination were not so weak, so easily tired, if his capacity for wonder not so limited, he would abandon forever... fantasies of fhe supernal. He would learn to perceive in water, leaves, and silence more than sufficient of the absolute and marvelous, more than enough to console him for the loss of the ancient dreams."
Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, All rights reserved.
"If man's imagination were not so weak, so easily tired, if his capacity for wonder not so limited, he would abandon forever... fantasies of fhe supernal. He would learn to perceive in water, leaves, and silence more than sufficient of the absolute and marvelous, more than enough to console him for the loss of the ancient dreams."
Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, All rights reserved.
Zion Canyon Bottomland
March 23, 2005, Afternoon. There was alot of rain while I was in Zion, and clouds were seemingly always present. It was difficult to find interesting shots of the cliffs around the canyon, so I spent a bit of time looking down to the earth. The canyon was alive there and this pond full of fallout from the recent storms and years past, gave me something to look at.
Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, All rights reserved.
Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, All rights reserved.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Lower Kolob Plateau Morning
March 23, 2005, 7:00 AM. As is my style when I am on the road, I was up well before dawn. It was a crisp morning with temps below freezing. The neighborhood here was still sleeping and the snow from the night before was untouched on the road before me. Signs of life were beginning to rise from the houses. I was thinking it must be nice to live in a spot like this. Clouds gathered and parted to threaten both snow and sun.
Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, All rights reserved.
Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, All rights reserved.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Trip Report March 2005
This was a one week excursion with destinations including Zion Canyon NP, the ghost town at Grafton, UT, Death Valley and the CoralPink Sand Dunes State Park. A much larger collection of images is available at my site. It rained and snowed -- was wet and snotty, and was gorgeous at times. It was a good trip overall -- and I found myself again the first vehicle on untrekked snow laden roads. It could have been better -- but I can't imagine how.
Photograph Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, all rights reserved.
Photograph Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, all rights reserved.
Peregrinefund.org Field Report
OK -- it's 1:00 am mostly -- Having taken a nap this afternoon, I am up late doing research on the idea that I would like to try to photograph California Condors in the area of the Grand Canyon or Zion National Park. Basically this seems simple -- find out where they are -- go there with the right equipment -- and take the pictures.
While I was out looking around I found this sad post on the Peregrinefund.org site.
While I was out looking around I found this sad post on the Peregrinefund.org site.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Is Digital Ready for the Outdoors?
Now my Canon 20D camera is back at the factory, being cleaned. After ten days in the outdoors in some wet weather, out on the Coral Pink Sand Dunes, and then more activity at Death Valley, and at various points along the road, the camera is producing nice pictures -- but with spots from some miscreant on the sensor. Despite following the suggested cleaning method -- blowing it off with a sucky ball -- the spots remain in all my images to varying degrees. It has been gone for roughly ten days now and really -- I am ready to have it back.
This really begs the question "Is digital photography really ready to do things like backpacking, and still be counted on to produce professional results?" I think today the answer is a resounding no. When I called Canon Customer support they asked me if I had changed lenses in the field -- to this I responded yes, about 10-20 times a day. They asked if I had been in any unclean environments -- and I was wondering is snow or sand or rain or pollen dirty? I said -- just in the field.
I have only had this camera for three months -- I have used it a lot. I have several thousand images. But the truth is -- 10-15 days is a long time to go without a camera -- especially if you are using it, and to anticipate this after 5 days of a ten day trip -- or even once every three months, is entirely too frequent to call it reliable.
As it turns out -- I have other cameras -- that use film. Never mind the nuisance of processing, waiting for the results, and having to manage all the film. The film is always clean when it comes off the roll. The process of waiting for the results to return from the lab is nothing compared to manually cleaning little spots off several hundred otherwise worthy images
So if my 20D isn't back by the time I leave for my next event, I am sure I will pull my F1n out of the mothballs and load it -- *it* is a reliable camera.
This really begs the question "Is digital photography really ready to do things like backpacking, and still be counted on to produce professional results?" I think today the answer is a resounding no. When I called Canon Customer support they asked me if I had changed lenses in the field -- to this I responded yes, about 10-20 times a day. They asked if I had been in any unclean environments -- and I was wondering is snow or sand or rain or pollen dirty? I said -- just in the field.
I have only had this camera for three months -- I have used it a lot. I have several thousand images. But the truth is -- 10-15 days is a long time to go without a camera -- especially if you are using it, and to anticipate this after 5 days of a ten day trip -- or even once every three months, is entirely too frequent to call it reliable.
As it turns out -- I have other cameras -- that use film. Never mind the nuisance of processing, waiting for the results, and having to manage all the film. The film is always clean when it comes off the roll. The process of waiting for the results to return from the lab is nothing compared to manually cleaning little spots off several hundred otherwise worthy images
So if my 20D isn't back by the time I leave for my next event, I am sure I will pull my F1n out of the mothballs and load it -- *it* is a reliable camera.
Hello and Greetings
Today was spent preparing for a trip to Bishop CA, securing hotel, looking for sites to shoot and re-connecting with contacts in the area. I am eagerly awaiting the return of my Canon from the shop, as it seems the sensor is dirty from the last trip. This week has been a mixture of taxes and cleanup from my recent trip to Zion Canyon and Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park in Southern Utah. After 5 or 6 days of snow, rain and mixed snow and rain, I bailed out at the suggesting of the park gatekeeper to head for Death Valley to see the wildflowers.
Photograph Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, all rights reserved.
Canon 20D with EFS 17-85mm Zoom. It was wet under these falls and messy but the camera performed admirably. Notice the drops of water falling everywhere in front of the camera.
Photograph Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, all rights reserved.
Canon 20D with EFS 17-85 Zoom.
Photograph Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, all rights reserved.
Canon 20D with EFS 17-85mm Zoom. It was wet under these falls and messy but the camera performed admirably. Notice the drops of water falling everywhere in front of the camera.
Photograph Copyright Shawn Kielty 2005, all rights reserved.
Canon 20D with EFS 17-85 Zoom.
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