"Cedar Breaks Star Circle, Utah" & "West of Ely, Nevada" (c) 2006, 2007

“Cedar Breaks Star Circle, Utah”

& “West of Ely, Nevada”

© October 2006, January 2007

Stu Jenks

    Been dying for just your basic Cheddar Cheese Omelet for days. The coffee’s weak and thin but I don’t care. I know eggs and home fries are on their way, and I’m guessing they’ll be great. This is Utah after all.
    The two waitresses working tonight look like high-school-girl versions of Laurel and Hardy. One’s six-foot tall, skinny as a rail, bright blond hair with a light in her eye. The other’s a foot shorter, roughly the same weight, brunette, not fat but just a solid country girl, like someone who does real live chores before she goes to school. I bet neither of them are happy with their bodies. Both are very cute girls.
    Slow night here at this family restaurant in downtown Cedar City, Utah. An elderly couple are over in a booth by the window, both looking out at the passing traffic, neither talking nor looking at each other. The manager is counting receipts over by the hot light window where the food comes out from the kitchen. A young mother, baby in her arms, is sitting at a four top near the restroom, talking quietly on her cell phone. Laurel and Hardy look bored. I’ll make sure I tip Laurel well.
    What day is it? Thursday? Yea, Thursday. This whirlwind shooting/driving/hiking trip is bending Time in my head a little. Won’t forget for a while though, my desperate attempt, this afternoon, to find a carton of Camel Filters in North Las Vegas. Would have had better luck scoring a few rocks of Crack, than finding a carton of smokes in that part of town. Had to buy them at a truck stop, thirty miles north of the city instead. Stopped at an Indian Reservation a little after that and got some fireworks, then got back on the Interstate. A few miles later, I waved at the last casino in Nevada at Mesquite, drove in Arizona for about a half hour and bingo bango, I’m back into Utah again.
    The land of People Who Eat Too Much Sugar. God, I love them. I really do. Much kinder and friendly than most of the folk I came into contact with in Vegas. Happy as hell to put Nevada in my rearview mirror.
    Now, Utah started out on a very high note for me days ago at Great Basin National Park hiking among the ancient Bristlecone Pines. The town of Ely, the next day, was a trip, a living Deadwood with modern-day Swearengens and Bullocks eating breakfast next to me at the old Hotel Nevada, each complaining at The Gov’ment. The drive west out of Ely was simply amazing with huge flat wide open spaces punctuated by mountain ranges every 30 minutes or so. The night in Beatty, Nevada pretty much sucked with bad food and rude blackjack dealers who made fun of my poor skills as a gambler. Dawn the next day at Death Valley and the hike up to Zabriskie Point was like something out of a movie, and my first meal in Las Vegas, of Steak and Shrimp for $7.77 at the Hard Rock Hotel was fabulous. But then Vegas became Vegas for me, with a worn out room at The Excalibur, a cashier at The Bellagio selling me a $100 standby ticket to “O” after the show had already stated. Some good fortune minutes later of having them refund my non-refundable ticket and selling me another for a later show. The late show was good but not worth the 100 bucks. But I salved my wounds the next morning, this morning, with hot newborn doughnuts at the Krispy Kreme in my hotel. The Borg Experience was OK and shopping at The Hard Rock was fun too, but by the time my 24 hours of Las Vegas were coming to a close, with me driving in circles in North Las Vegas, trying to find some smokes and confusing the crack dealers, I was ready to get the hell out of Dodge. Vegas, that is.
    Laurel is walking toward me with a plate of eggs, cheese, hash browns and sourdough toast in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other. I’d kiss her if I didn’t think it would freak her out.
    “Here you go, sir,” she says. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks with a smile on her face.
    “No, this looks great. Thank you very much.” I return the smile.
    “Ok. Enjoy.” She turns and walks back toward the kitchen.
    I put my fork into the steaming hot four-egg cheddar cheese omelette, carve out a piece and put it in my mouth.
    “Oh Sweet Jesus Christ,” I say quietly to myself.
           “Just what I needed,” I mumble with food in my mouth.
           This will help fortify me tonight for I have something I need to do before I go to sleep. Been thinking about it most of the day. Still pretty early. I look at the clock on the diner’s wall. 8:20 p.m. Ain’t no hurry and where I need to be is only about 30 miles to the east, and the moon doesn’t rise until around 4 a.m.
           I sip some more coffee and take a bite now of the hash browns. Not as good as the omelette, but they’ll do. I bought a paper as I was coming into the restaurant and I see that hunting season is starting in a few days. I’ll be long gone by the time they starting shooting at Bambi.
           I cut another piece of egg and cheddar and put it in my mouth.
           “Hmmmm…”
    Died and gone to heaven.

    I take a left onto Utah 148 North. I think I saw three cars since I left Cedar City. Been rising in altitude since I left town. Cedar City’s a little below 6000 feet. I’m heading to above 10,000 feet.
    Been a long time since I’ve been to Cedar Breaks National Monument. Most folk come during the day to see the large pink sandstone amphitheater that is Cedar Breaks’ trademark. Not me. Not that it isn’t beautiful. It is. But I’ve come for the trees, the Douglas Firs, and the other pines that grow at this altitude. And the stars that shine above them.
    No snow but cold. Even with the Pathfinder’s heat on high, it’s still cold in the truck as I climb higher and higher up this well paved winding road.
    There. I’m in the park. Just past the sign. Haven’t seen a car since I left Utah State Route 14. Now, I just need a road to the right that takes me into the Dixie National Forest. I pass the Visitors Center on my left. Looks like they are doing renovations. Parking lot’s closed. No matter. Large patches of snow are here and there. Nothing unusual about that. Last time I was here, it was the month of May and there was still a ton of snow on the ground. I think I read somewhere that Cedar Breaks gets more snow accumulation than any other place in Utah. Makes sense to me.
    That road looks good. I turn onto a well-maintained dirt road going east. I look hard for the silhouettes of tall Firs. I drive for about a mile, when I see a good stand of trees a few hundred yards off to my left. The road gets wider and then I notice the snowplow and the small group of Park Service trucks off to one side. Bet this is where the Park Service stores the vehicles they don’t need very much. I see the tall trees just to the North. I make a slow looping turn so as to be pointing the truck back toward the Park. I find a good level spot in the gravel where there is no snow, stop the Pathfinder and put on the emergency brake. I keep the truck running to keep the cab warm at least for a while.
    I hop out. The running engine makes it so I can’t feel the area. Funny how that works. Man, is it cold. I walk to the back of the truck and change coats, out of my thin Eddie Bauer polar fleece and into my large toasty North Face jacket. I grab my tripod, place it on the roof, then close the hatch and go back in the front seat.
    “Oooooooohh,” I say shivering a bit.
    “It is cold, cold, cold,” I say to the truck.
    I put on my Boo Boo hat and reach for my gloves in the back seat. Grab the Rollei, my black mini Maglite, and pull down my hat low on my head. I turn off the truck. I put on my gloves, get out of the truck and zip up the North Face. Quiet now. Now I can feel the land. I grab my tripod and head toward the small grove of Firs just a ways north of me.
    I walk on some patches of snow and they are hard from the freezing cold, like humps of poorly poured concrete. But even in the starlight, the snow mounds sparkle with innumerable ice crystals. I kick up a bit of snow with my boots and the snow become stardust. Wow. I look up toward the very bright Milky Way and mouth the word ‘Wow’ again. Stars above and Stars below.
    I keep walking and then I find that the single grove of Doug Firs I saw from the road is actually two smaller patches of forest with a break in the middle. This will do just fine. I walk in the break and look for the trees I want. Yea, these will do. Then I look for the North Star. The Big Dipper is below the horizon, but I betcha I can find the Little Dipper pretty easy. Sure nuff, there it is.
    I wander around for a couple minutes, looking for that right combination of trees and stars. I decide against a symmetric composition pretty quick. Been there, done that. Tonight, I want a bigger sweep of stars. More sky, a little less tree, a big arch of Time.
    I set up the tripod. Clamp in the Rollei. Take off the lens cap. Pier down into the ground glass. Takes a minute or so for my eyes to adjust, now that I’ve turned off my flashlight. I look up at the North Star and then back down into the viewfinder. Up and down a few times, subtly adjusting the composition. I can picture some of the arch of the stars but I won’t know for sure  until I develop the negatives when I get home. Part of the mystery that I like about photography. But I do have an idea and I like that the North Star is low and a bit to the right in the picture. My biggest concern is I need to wake up before the Moon rises, before the moonlight erases the star trails.
    I lock in the Rollei, take a short exposure just in case I didn’t advance the film from the last time I shot, advance the film for a fresh exposure, make sure the f  stop is 5.6, double check the composition and then open the shutter. I slowly step away from the camera so as not to bump it and turn and begin to walk back to the truck.
    I stop after a few feet and turn to look at the camera. Easy to see the tripod in the snow and the starlight. I smile. Don’t want to not be able to find my camera in a few hours. I’ll be coming back with my flashlight turned off, don’t you know.
    I turn and walk toward the Pathfinder.
    “Man. It’s cold,” I say to the sky.

    My eyes open and I notice something I don’t want to see.
    Moonlight.
    “Oh, man!”
    I fell asleep within seconds of hitting my head to the pillow. Still got my clothes on. Still got my Boo boo hat on too. Nice and comfy in my sleeping bag that’s spread across the front seat of the truck. I sit up, still in the bag and look at the dash clock. 4:14. I look at the waning half Moon. Mostly shrouded in high clouds, so it’s not so bright. Probably fine but better get out there and close that shutter.
    I don’t even bother to put on socks. Just lace my boots, put on my jacket, put on my glasses, grab my camera bag and open the door. It’s nippy in the truck. It’s downright frigid outside.
    “Cold, cold,… cold, cold, cold,” I say as I do a quick-short-step-sorta-run across the dirt road to the little Doug Fir forest. My teeth start to chatter. In no time, I’m at my camera. I quiet myself and close the shutter, listening to it click closed. I advance the film, put the lens cap back one, and pack the camera and tripod up lickitty split. A minute later, I’m back in the truck, still shivering. I start the truck, put the heater on high and get back in my sleeping bag.
    “Cold, cold,…cold, cold, cold.”

    January, 2007

    Took over a hundred hours in Photoshop 7, to clean up the dust from the scan but it was well worth it. It is one big ass digital file. Hopefully some day I’ll have an extra $500 to print and frame “Cedar Break Star Circle” but right now I’m content, laying on my massage table in my studio, looking at the mosaic of 13 x 19 inch Giclees, that are pinned to my studio wall, that create the 40 x 40 inch image of four hour time exposure of stars circling around the North Star and the silhouette of tall Douglas Fir trees.
    Sting’s new lute album, “Songs from the Labyrinth” plays on my studio system, the medieval instrument clear and crisp coming through the studio monitors. A few hundred Christmas lights, of varying shapes and sizes, burn overhead, giving BR-549 a pinkish glow. My portable heater takes the edge off the cold. A stiff wind flutters the louvers of a vent twenty feet above my head.
    I smile and stare at the Star Circle.
    “Good,” I say.
    And then suddenly I fall into the center of the stars.

http://stujenks.typepad.com/photos/the_biscuit_papers_part_o/cedarbreaksstarcircle_1.html

http://stujenks.typepad.com/photos/the_biscuit_papers_part_o/westofelynevada3pop.html