Spring City Plein Air 2020

 

11" x 14" Oil on Panel

Spent the last week painting and getting ready for the annual Spring City Plein Air show. Got a late start because I thought the event had been canceled like all the other plein air events this year. Found out two days into the event that it was still on, so I hurried down to Spring City to get my painting panels stamped and start painting!

11" x 14" Oil on Panel

Went to a place south of town for the first painting. The next day I went up onto the Skyline Drive and did an alpine painting of a group of trees overlooking the valley. I think it's the first time I've ever painted above 10,000 feet elevation. While painting the second day I kept myself hydrated by drinking water from a plastic water bottle I had brought with me. The bottle hissed when I first opened it at altitude. Later, upon returning to the valley, I found that the water bottle had partially collapsed from the change in air pressure. When I loosened the cap, the bottle reinflated itself.

12" x 9" Oil on Panel

The last painting was made at some red rock formations in Diamond Fork Canyon. It's not exactly Southern Utah, but between the red rock formations, the red sand, and some little lizards running around, I felt like I was stepping out of a southern Utah bubble when I was finished and left to go home.

The show will be mainly displayed online for the next couple weeks. For those wishing to purchase a painting from the show, you can click here, or go to springcityarts.com, click on "Plein Air Paintings", and follow directions from there. Last I looked, my paintings are displayed on page 10 of their "Plein Air Paintings" site.

Early May Hike - Dry Hills

This Post returns to the theme of hiking in the West Desert. 

Looking Back Down the Trail, Towards Mt. Nebo.

Early in May I traveled to the south end of Goshen Canyon to visit an area I'd seen before but never hiked. This place might seem unimpressive in comparison with much more spectacular mountains not far away (such as shown in the first two images of this post), but it has qualities all it's own. The West Desert is an important part of the diversity of landscape that exists here in the Intermountain West. I had explored the eastern ridge above the canyon a couple weeks before. The plan this trip was to climb and walk the higher, more extensive western ridge.

Closer View of Mt. Nebo.

The western ridge provides spectacular views in every direction. Hiking up the trail towards the ridge, I frequently paused to look back across Juab Valley at Mt. Nebo, which rises to nearly 12,000 feet above sea level. The ridge I would be hiking this day is not nearly so high, rugged, cold and daunting as those snow capped peaks. Compared to climbing Nebo, my hike that day was rather easy. Maybe another day, Nebo!

Higher Up the Ridge.

Upon reaching the ridge line, I left the trail and headed higher. By this time I was reminded that gnat season was in full swing as no-see-ums mounted a close assault on me. Mosquitoes joined the attack. I dug through my daypack and found a small spray bottle of insect repellent. Applying the repellent pretty much ended the no-see-um's onslaught. The mosquitoes, however, were not impressed and continued to press their attacks.

A creek flows through the canyon, but the hills and ridges around the canyon are dry. That dryness shows in the pale, greyed colors of trees, grass and rocks. This time of year, though, the drab colors of the hills and ridges are punctuated here and there with bright red blossoms of cactus. The surprisingly intense red of the cactus flowers contrasts dramatically with the subdued hues of the surrounding landscape.

Blooming Cactus

More Cactus

Yet More Cactus

There's not a lot of other wild flowers on these hillsides. Those that are in bloom are small, and could easily be overlooked by unobservant passers by. No other flora here even approaches the brilliance of the cactus flowers, but as far as I'm concerned, all of it deserves a hiker's notice.

Once away from the immediate area of the creek, it seems the only species of tree on these hills is juniper. One of the reasons, and probably the main one, for how sparse the trees are on these hills is because of wildfires that occasionally sweep the area.

Fire Killed Tree

 The ridge I walked was a series of peaks and saddles that gradually rose higher the farther north I traveled. The geology of the ridge where I hiked up seem to reveal some granite and basalt. As I headed north along the ridge, the rock formations became limestone and sandstone. 

All along the ridge I could hear the clear, brilliant songs of meadowlarks. At one ridgeline pass I was surprised by a flock of seagulls flying from Goshen Valley and apparently headed toward Mona Lake in Juab Valley. The seagulls cleared the pass by just a few yards directly in front of me, dipping and whirling and banking as they flew.

The Top?

On one of the highest peaks along this stretch of the ridge was an important looking marker. The pile of rocks and flag seem to suggest that this peak has some significance. I have no idea what that significance might be, or even if the peak has a name, but I did feel welcomed when I walked around to the other side of the flag.

"Welcome!"

The next picture shows the view looking north from the peak. The snow capped mountains in the far distance are, from left to right: Lone Peak, Mt. Timpanogos, Cascade Mountain, and Provo Peak. The closer peak at the left in the picture was my goal for the hike.

Looking North

Here's a view from the same spot of the southern end of Goshen Valley.

A View into Goshen Valley

Looking directly south, I could see much of the ridge I had just walked, and a lot more ridges I haven't walked - yet.

Looking Back the Way I Had Come.

Leaving that peak, the ridge took me across another saddle and over a peak that had widely scattered juniper trees growing on it. It's one of the very few places directly on the ridge that had any trees at all. Down a wash on the western side of the ridge I could hear a batch of chukar partridges chatting among themselves.

The Next-to-the-Last peak on the Ridge.

Hiking beyond that, I finally made it to the end of the ridge. The last peak was marked with a scraggly-looking pole that was slowly loosing what I think were it's guy wires. The pole may have had a flag on it at one time, but looked like it would make a better lightning rod than flagpole.

End of the Ridge, But Not the Hike...

Walking around to the other side of the marker I looked down the end of the ridge. Two golden eagles were in a dead tree on the other side, just below the peak. Startled by my sudden appearance right above them, they took flight. The eagles soared back and forth a hundred or so yards from me. I tried to take a couple pictures of them, but the pics didn't turn out.

I really wanted to stay and watch the eagles but mosquitoes were becoming intolerable. I was killing mosquitoes on my arms, sometimes three or four per swat. Also, the sun was just above the mountains to the west, and it would be dark soon. I headed down the mountainside to find a way back to my car. Farther down the slope I crossed a small ridge and traveled into a little valley where I saw a herd of mule deer. It was fully night by the time I crossed another small ridge on my way out of that valley. I hiked in the dark looking for a dirt road I believed was in the area. If I found it, it should lead me back to where the car was parked. As I walked farther down the mountainside I heard a coyote begin to yap and howl in the hills just across the canyon. Finally I found the road. From there I walked in the dark along the dusty road playing a game I call, "Where The Heck Did I Park The Car?!" I can't say it's always a fun game. I don't know how far I walked - by this time it seemed a lot longer than it probably was - but I eventually arrived at my car. From there it was down the dirt trail to pavement, and then, back home.

Two Hikes

This post compresses two hikes into one post. The first was on West Mountain a few days before the first day of Spring, the second hike was in the East Tintic Mountains a couple days after the Vernal Equinox. Weather for both hikes was partly to mostly cloudy, with a chance for precipitation.

Click on the photos to see larger versions.

The first photo shows the approach to the stone gateway into the mysterious mountain!

Then through the gateway!

My hike followed a broad wash in a canyon which zig-zaged up the mountain. Here it passes a wall of vertical rock strata.

Looking back at a section of the rock wall.

I wonder what might live in that jagged cave?

Looking back down canyon. The rocky, treeless nature of this landscape reminds me of pictures I've seen of Siani, where the ancient Twelve Tribes of Israel wandered for forty years on the way to the Promised Land. Perhaps it even reminds me of remote parts of the Holy Land.

Looking down canyon again, a while later, with a view across the lake and towards the Traverse Mountains.

Getting higher up canyon where the snow is.

The wash begins to narrow.

Eventually, the wash narrowed into a gully. I wanted to climb higher, and did walk a little ways past where the next photo was taken, but storm clouds were gathering overhead, and soon some rain began to fall. Gullies are not good places to be in rainstorms, so I donned my rain gear and turned back down the canyon. Most of the return hike was after nightfall.

The rain ended and the cloud cover became broken as I reached the bottom of the canyon. Upon exiting the canyon I saw to the west and south, huge anvil-shaped clouds silhouetted against an orangish afterglow along the horizon. Above me the constellation Orion and the Pleiades shone down through scattered clouds.

Some might find such a barren landscape unappealing, but I enjoyed it! It doesn't matter to me so much whether a place is forested, grassy, rocky, mountainous, hilly, marshy, sandy, or what-have-you. What matters to me is that it is wild. I found mule deer and chukar partridges, among other wildlife, in the canyon. Some of the limestone outcrops and boulders appear to have fossilized crinoids or brachiopods in them. Someday I'll take that canyon again, when I have enough time, and try to follow it all the way to the top.

Me in the canyon:

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The next hike was around a week later, this time in the East Tintic Mountains. The first photo is well into the hike, as I had already climbed over a barbed wire fence, crossed a large chained area, hiked through some brush and over a small ridge. Here a rancher's road ended at a gate in another fence. One day I'll pass through that gate and explore farther up that way, but on this day I chose to go another direction.

One of the reasons I had picked this place to hike was because the Wasatch Mountains were socked in by winter weather that seemed unwilling to relent to Spring. I imagine a hike in one of my usual Wasatch canyons would have likely been a hike in a blizzard. Here, the weather was a little cool, but pleasant, with the sun shining most of the day. This photo shows sunshine where I was, and the distant Wasatch Range rising into storm clouds.

I hiked over small ridges and in and out of washes all afternoon, not following any particular route. The next photo shows the typical pinyon pine and juniper covered hills I hiked in that day:

In failing daylight, I photographed this rock outcrop at the edge of a wash:

Some of the hiking gear I typically take with me:

Once again, my hike back was after dark. I arrived at the car after 9:00 PM. Stars shone down through a hazy sky, with the planet Venus in the western sky upstaging every other star with it's dazzling brilliance. This time of year, it's still winter constellations that show in the late evening sky; Orion, Canis Major, Gemini, Auriga, Taurus, and the Pleiades, to name a few. Mid summer will bring a different parade of constellations to the night sky; Cygnus, Aquila, and Lyra - their brightest stars forming an asterism called the Summer Triangle. Also, low in the southern sky Scorpius will have finally climbed above the horizon. I certainly look forward to summer, but won't pass up the wonderful opportunities Springtime hikes provide!

A selfie from the East Tintic Mountain hike:

Desert Tower

9" x 12" Oil on Panel

Early this month I was back in the desert, near the Book Cliffs. There's so much to explore and paint there! Other parts of Utah get much more attention, and that makes this area all the better for exploring and painting. No noisy crowds. No national park bureaucratic regulations. Just desert canyons and cliffs, pinyon and juniper forests, and wide open views. 

This painting was made on a beautiful day early in November. The weather was one of those late autumn dichotomies where chilly air and warm sun contrast sharply with each other. After painting, I took a little time to hike a trail that led through a couple canyons and through stands of pinyon pine and juniper trees to a pleasant surprise; a waterfall in the desert! This time of year there was a lot of ice built up on the waterfall, and along the creek that tumbled over those falls.

There was much more trail to hike, but the sun was getting low and the time short, so I thought it best to return. And although I physically returned, it's as if part of my mind remained, wondering what else there was farther along the trail. Bits of my mind always seem to get stuck in wild places! I'll be back, for sure, both to paint and to hike more of this wonderful and intriguing landscape!

Helper Plein Air 2019

11" x 14" Oil on Panel

On the first of October I traveled to Helper, Utah, to spend a few days participating in a plein air event there. I've been hoping for a plein air event in Helper for a long time. The landscape surrounding the town is rich in subject matter for paintings, with miles of towering cliffs and wide open high desert views. Many of the buildings in downtown helper have the feel of an early twentieth century boom town. I've painted in the area before, and have spent a few days there in the past, but it's been a few years since I've been back.

11" x 14" Oil on Panel

Helper is a small town tucked up against the Book Cliffs, and located on a major route between northern and southeastern Utah; a route used by people generally on their way to and from other places. Because of Helper's location, it's a major railroad town, supplying extra locomotives to help long trains up steep canyon grades. (Hence the town's name.) The railroad, and coal mining, provided the bulk of the local economy. Those industries, however, have been on the wane recently, and the town has suffered economically.

During my most recent visit I was surprised to find that a number of the previously empty buildings in downtown Helper now house art galleries and artists' studios. During the monthly "First Friday Art Walk," main street is closed to traffic. Street vendors and performers set up their booths street side downtown, and crowds of people show up to tour galleries and enjoy the festivities. Helper is not yet a big art center, but there is a sense of optimism, and the town seems to be on it's way to becoming one.

My abode for a few days.

While in Helper for the plein air event, I stayed at a local campground. The first morning there, as I happened to be looking toward the Book Cliffs a few miles away, There suddenly appeared what I at first thought was smoke from a big wildfire that had just started on the other side of town. But the smoke was billowing downward, not up, like smoke is supposed to. I realized it wasn't smoke. It was dust and debris from a huge rockfall, tumbling hundreds of feet down a towering cliff near town! The rockfall then kicked up a giant dust cloud that rose hundreds of feet into the air, and slowly drifted off to the southeast.

A few minutes later, I drove to a nearby corner market. Pointing to the still lingering dust cloud where the rockfall had happened, I asked the man at the checkout counter,

"Are there any homes located over there?"

He replied that no, that area of town is where the cemetery is and there aren't any homes there.

I asked, "Does this sort of thing happen here very often?"

He answered, "More often than you would think." Then after a short pause added, "That was a big one, though."

The big rockfall had been visible from all over town. It was frequently brought up in conversation later when the plein air painters got together after being out painting all day.

The big rockfall happened on the cliff  visible
just to the right of the top of the tent.

That day and the next I did the two paintings shown at the top of this post. After framing my paintings and turning them in at the gallery, I headed out to explore more of the surrounding area. Pointing the 4Runner down various unfamiliar dirt roads, I would drive until the road ended, or I thought it might never end. Then I'd turn around and go find another road to explore. The diverse roads I followed led me into deep canyons or up onto high mesas.

An example of the brightly colored wild asters that
were growing many places along the road.

There was little time available between dropping off paintings and returning to the gallery later that evening for the reception, so instead of painting I simply scouted the area, stopping from time to time to take photographs.

More Asters

Pinyon pines and juniper trees grow in scattered batches on the tablelands below the book cliffs. Most of the area, however, is open grassland and sagebrush. In the higher elevations a wider variety of trees can be found, including aspens and maples.

An Abundance of Juniper Berries

Perhaps more showy than the asters were the large batches of yellow chamisa, or rabbitbrush commonly growing along the edges of dirt roads.

Chamisa, or Rabbitbrush

More Roadside Rabbitbrush

To see my paintings in person, along with freshly made paintings by more than forty other plein air artists, come visit Adams Fine Arts in Helper, Utah. The gallery is located downtown at 115 South Main Street. The show will be up through the rest of October, and the first of November. All paintings are for sale. For more information, visit https://www.helperpleinair.com

An Example of the Kind of Landscape I Was Exploring

Mesa Top Juniper

9" x 12" Oil on Panel

This was painted during a recent trip to the the four corners region of southeast Utah. I was driving around the high desert looking for something to paint when I spotted this tree on a mesa top. After deciding to make a painting of it, I parked in a safe spot off the road, grabbed a 9 x 12 pochade box, and headed up through the sagebrush toward the tree.

The Four Corners Region is full of bits and pieces of ancient civilizations. One can pretty much hike into any canyon and find stone ruins high up on cliff faces. Lithic flakes and pottery shards are also common finds. Lots to look at and wonder about, but don't take!

As I approached the tree, I found two little pieces of ancient broken pottery. Farther on I found more shards. Every few steps revealed more and more pottery fragments, including this spot where it seems someone had gathered different kinds of pot shards into one place:

Likely this much ancient detritus wasn't dropped by someone just passing by. I thought there must have been people living here on this mesa top long ago. Looking around for any signs of past settlement, I found an incongruous pile of rocks and dirt. I think this was once a pueblo, now collapsed and overgrown with sagebrush:

What a great view the ancient residents of this pueblo would have had! From the Abajo Mountains to the north to the spires, buttes and mesas to the south, their view of the landscape would have been wide open!

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As for my own dwelling during this trip, I brought one with me. It's a new tent that's roomy and big enough to stand up in:

And I brought a kitchen, too. Made of pine and baltic birch plywood, it was painted with oil primer that was colored with thalo oil colors I no longer wanted in my paintbox:

My Chuck Box.

I bought this Coleman stove in 1982. It was once my backpacking stove but is now a permanent part of my chuck box gear, as I now have lighter options for backpacking stoves. After 36 years it still works great!

Cooking breakfast on my 36 year old Coleman stove.