Open Mouths

Posted by dkrashb on January 5, 2013

Continuing our visit to the Tennessee Aquarium, I discovered a topic I never expected to write a blog post about. Let’s talk about mouths for a moment, shall we?

Some mouths are terrifying. Think Jaws. Think Tyrannosaurus Rex. Now, think Alligator. Not so very different, in my book, than thinking about being bitten by a dinosaur. After all, the American Alligator actually did live with the dinosaurs.

Even sleeping the alligator looks menacing

The relatively small Alligator that lives in a rather cushy environment in the Tennessee Aquarium by Alligator standards (I should think), chose a rather interesting spot to hang out for an afternoon nap. The only thing that would have made his choice of places to sleep better would have been if the glass would have been antiglare. Since I can’t imagine the aquarium staff has been training the alligator to nap where it can be viewed up close, I’m guessing this little nook was designed to be exactly what an alligator looks for when it comes to nap nooks to increase the odds that visitors would get to admire this guy’s teeth up close. They sure are white. There is something disturbing about an animal whose teeth are so prominent they don’t fit inside its mouth when it’s closed.

I think this might be as close to cuddling as alligators get

Catfish are another creature that has a scary mouth. They also co-habitated with T-Rex. Perhaps I have stumbled upon a pattern? While the teeth of a catfish may not be so prominent or sharp as the alligator’s, there is just something downright menacing about the way their mouth looks to me. It comes as no surprise that there are several types of catfish who have been rumored to kill people (although not substantiated). This catfish was enormous. While not even close to the top of the scale for big catfish, he seemed big enough to swallow a small child whole. I don’t think this catfish actually has any interest in eating small children, fortunately. His markings make me think of my dog, making him a whole lot cuter than most catfish.

This guy doesn’t look so scary with his back turned

The next in our series of mouths is a crazy turtle. An alligator snapping turtle, to be exact. Unfortunately, his lure doesn’t show in the shot (through thick glass), but this guy hangs out with his mouth open and wiggles a lure that is part of his tongue to attract fish. An underwater fisherman. I’m just guessing, but I suspect this guy may be even older than the alligator–he looks like a rock.

So frozen people stop to ask if he’s dead, this guy waits for imaginary fish to swim by

I don’t recall the name of the next open-mouth participant in today’s post. I assume he is gathering something edible by filtering the water, but he kept swimming around with checks billowing like sails. I missed a shot of the inside of his mouth reflecting light and shimmering like a silver bowl. He just glided by with his billowing mouth below his paddle of a nose looking some sort of bizarre submarine.

If this doesn’t speak to the diversity of the planet, I don’t know what does

This guy’s cheeks puff out as he takes in water while swimming with a wide open mouth

In the end, I was the one who left open-mouthed.

Otters and Smiles

Posted by dkrashb on January 4, 2013

This playful otter had quite a routine established–he used every inch of his tank that simulated a rushing river

There are certain things in life that make it impossible not to smile. A toddler laughing. A dog wagging like mad. An amazing sunset. And otters.

Who can possibly watch otters at play without smiling?

The Tennessee Aquarium has otters in their River Journey display. I have been to the aquarium at least a dozen times in the past year and a half. The otters have always been sleeping. Otters sleeping are cute, but not quite so provocative of a smile as when they’re playing. Discovering they were wide awake and having a ball on our recent visit with friends was quite a joy for me.

One might think the otter needed a rest, but he really was looking for a diving board

The Otter takes a spinning leap as he makes a dramatic dive back into the water

This might have been a great time to switch over to the video mode on my camera. But, alas, I keep forgetting it will shoot video. So, I have created a video from a series of rapid fire stills instead. I didn’t actually shoot with the intention of making a video, so there are gaps. The biggest gap is that I missed when they were swimming upside down. How is it that otters can swim upside down as easily as right side up? According to the National Geographic website, they can close their ears and noses. I imagine that would be a big advantage during graceful rolls and swirls through the water.

The first time I thought I saw a river otter in the wild was in Colorado. As it turned out, it was a beaver. When it smacked its flat tail against the water at us, I realized my mistake. In retrospect, a sea otter would be closer to the size of a beaver than a river otter, so I really should have known it was a beaver. Seeing a beaver was pretty exciting, but I’ve always wanted to see wild otters at play. So far, the closest I’ve come is when we saw river otters in a mountain lake near Mt. Hood in Oregon last fall. They were fun to watch, but we were a bit far away to get to see much besides their heads when they would pop back to the surface after diving for fish.

The only pair of wild river otters I’ve ever seen taking a break from fishing in Oregon

River Otters are one of the many creatures I envy. They are perfectly equipped for their lifestyle. They have all the special features they need to not just survive through cold winters and hot summers, but to thrive in them. They embrace their lifestyle with verve and frolic through life.

Of course, there are downsides. For one, they are apparently very vulnerable to environmental pollutants. For another, that warm, waterproof coat is something humans want to have. They had disappeared from much of the country as a result. Fortunately, through reintroduction and habitat management, they’ve made quite the comeback and are even considered a nuisance in some localized areas. However, there are still many parts of the country that have very few river otters. These must be the parts of the country I usually go hiking in. I keep hoping, though.

Sharing Wonder

Posted by dkrashb on January 3, 2013

I think it was a Tulip Snail–whatever it was called, it was beautiful reflected against the glass

Why is it that going to the same old places seems like a special treat when sharing it with someone for the first time? While our friends were visiting after Christmas, we took them on a whirlwind tour of the Tennessee Aquarium.

These little guys are so fascinating to watch, I can’t imagine what soulless person could harvest them

The ever-changing colors of the seahorses as they move through the tank makes for great camouflage

I haven’t been to the aquarium for a few months now, but I really thought I’d seen everything there was to see there. Yet, seeing it with someone new always makes me look more closely. I go into the experience with nervous anticipation–I want my friends to be wowed. I want to feel the pride of a “native” about the really cool things my chosen town has to offer. I don’t know if this is because, in part, I feel guilty about having moved away and I want my friends to understand what is so attractive about this place. But, honestly, I felt the same way taking visitors to interesting places in Columbus. I don’t know what it is about a town that makes a person identify with it. Is it just the desire to show someone a good time? Or is there really some underlying insecurity that makes me feel like if they think the aquarium is lame, I’m also lame because I love it? I think about going out to eat with people who recommend a restaurant and choking down barely edible food with a smile because I like these people and I feel like it would somehow be a personal insult to them if I admitted that I hated food they loved. What I don’t quite get is why we care (excuse me for presuming I’m not the only one who does). Some people prefer chocolate ice cream while others prefer vanilla. It’s not a comment on someone’s value as a human being. Yet, it’s so much more fun to share something with someone when they really enjoy it than when they just fake it.

I don’t remember if these are pipe fish or not, but they were easy to walk by without noticing

I’m happy to report Georgia and George genuinely enjoyed the aquarium–they made it more fun for us, too. Their fascination with the floating jelly fishes made me appreciate the jellies all over again. Their enthusiasm about the river and ocean tanks made me see it like it was the first time. Georgia’s willingness to touch a sturgeon had me dipping my arm into the tank right along side her. They don’t have scales like other fish–they feel very smooth.

We also caught part of a Ranger Rick show that featured a bird I’ve never seen before–a Trumpeter Hornbill. For those of you who do not remember Ranger Rick, he was a cartoon raccoon and the name of a children’s magazine about nature. The aquarium has Ranger Rick shows for children, but I didn’t see many kids in the audience. The most amazing thing the Hornbill did was catch a grape in mid-air that was tossed just a few feet in front of it. They need better lighting for photos, but it was still pretty cool.

The Trumpeter Hornbill catches a grape in a mid-air maneuver that seems impossible

The Trumpeter Hornbill returns to its handler after flying across the room

Welcoming 2013

Posted by dkrashb on January 2, 2013

Interesting clouds over Chattanooga

Having embarrassed myself yet again by writing my blog post way too late at night, I thought I would try writing at a decent hour tonight.

In honor of the new year, it seems only appropriate to think about what I’d like 2013 to be like. As some of you may recall from last year, I am a bit of a resolution-phobe. But, it is always good to reflect on a year past and thinking about what things should come forward and which things I’d like to leave behind.

Unreleasable Prairie Falcon in Oregon

First, I have enjoyed exploring the world through a camera regularly over the past year and a half. I don’t think I’ve gone more than 2 weeks without shooting in 2012. This has provided me with a new way of looking at the world that I can only describe as a sense of careful observation combined with vast appreciation. I notice things I have not noticed in the past. I wait for things to unfold with a patience I have trouble finding without a camera. I work at getting better with both acceptance that I am imperfect and faith that I can improve. All in all, photography gives me joy and hope. This is something I want to keep in 2013.

Parking lot in Portland, OR

Second, during some parts of 2012, I managed to strike a balance between the things I love to do and the things I have to do. I lost that balance and now I want it back. Taking time out to bike, row, hike, do yoga, and bird/teach keeps me feeling happy and makes me better at everything else I do. I don’t have to do any of them really well, I just have to set aside all the things worrying me and go enjoy some time on my bike, on the river, on the mountain, on the mat, or with the birds. It’s a simple formula that requires making room in my schedule. This is something I want to regain in 2013 and I don’t want to wait for the weather to get warmer.

Assisting at a Wings to Awareness educational program for 3rd graders

Third, I really enjoy the time we spend with family and friends. Living remotely from many of the folks in those categories makes that tough. For 2013, I’d like to have more contact with more people I feel close to whether it’s over the phone, in person, or via FaceTime, these are the people who keep me grounded.

Sharing Point Park with family last summer

Finally, I have occasionally written about finding peace and, through finding it internally, creating it externally. That’s really what the previous 3 things are about–creating a sense of internal peace that help contribute to more happiness in the world. It seems like a small contribution, but as the Dali Lama said: “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.” Besides, a small contribution towards happiness is better than a small contribution towards anguish. A compassionate, peaceful life. That’s what I look forward to in 2013.

Enjoying a well-earned view after a 5-mile hike on Lookout Mountain

Getting onto the water not quite gracefully

Happy 2013!

Posted by dkrashb on January 1, 2013

I have just finished ringing in the new year. For some folks, the new year comes as a surprise. They were expecting the world to end on the 21st or there-abouts. We were all supposed to be done before we had the chance to ring in the new year of 2013.

It’s my sincere hope that all those who thought the world was truly coming to an end will feel welcomed and included in the new “off-the-grid” year. After all, I don’t care if you thought the world would end of not. I only care if we can peacefully co-exist together. You were wrong this time, but, who knows, you might be right next time. I don’t wish to point the finger at you and ask if your mother was ugly.

On the flip side, I don’t want to miss out on toasting the new year, either.

I’m happy that the ball dropped and the new year came in just as it has for many decades now. While the end of the planet might have been more dramatic, rolling over to a new year with a new lease on life seems a whole lot more promising to me.

Now, if only I could stay awake late enough to write something really meaningful about us . . .

Since that doesn’t seem to be an option, here are some really cool fireworks shots that might help fill the gap when it comes to ringing in the new year:

Winter at Point Park

Posted by dkrashb on December 31, 2012

We had the wonderful experience of having dear friends come down for a post-Christmas visit (a little more post than planned due to a blizzard hitting the midwest the day they were planning to leave).

We picked a couple of highlights to share since they only had a day and a half after the storm cleared out enough for them to come on down. Of course, we took them to Point Park.

It’s one of those places that meets many criteria for many different people. For those who want an outdoor adventure, there are dozens of hiking trails through the woods to spectacular overlooks. For those who want a nice easy stroll, there’s a ¼ mile paved loop around the top of the point that doesn’t even require climbing a step. And it still offers spectacular views. The list of increasingly challenging things to see goes on–basically, any level of physical activity or lack there of can be achieved and all levels are rewarded with amazing views of Chattanooga, Moccasin Bend, and even down into Georgia.

Pat and George pose for me in front of the overlook above Moccasin Bend

For the history buff, there are lots of Civil War memorials and information about some of the events of the Civil War related to this location. I’ve come to have a new respect for the Civil War living down here–I find myself growing more and more interested in the battles in the area.

Georgia, Paris, and Bonnie pause briefly in front of the memorial at Point Park

Our visiting friends included my bestie, Georgia, her equally wonderful husband George, (yes, George and Georgia) and two of their fur-kids, Paris and Bonnie. We were also sitting for Twiggy, and, we, of course, had Tisen. Having 4 dogs created a few logistical challenges, but it actually worked out quite well.

Twiggy and Tisen spent a day at doggy daycare together (which Tisen enjoys much more with his buddy Twiggy to play with) while Paris and Bonnie went exploring with us. Having 4 dogs and 4 humans in one mini-van just seemed like a bit much.

Remainders from the war, these canons still stand guard over Moccasin Bend

The last time we walked the loop at Point Park it was about 110 degrees. This time, it was in the 30’s, the sky was spitting at us, the wind was whipping us around, and the sun was no where to be seeing. I liked this weather better than the 110 degree day. But, with no umbrellas and the sky looking increasingly threatening, we walked quickly and skipped the jaunt out to the point. It was still beautiful–I never know if I like this park so much because of the views of because of the special people I’ve had the pleasure of taking there?

Returning to the car, we all had the same thought on our minds–we were uncomfortable in our high-tech winter coats with fleece and down and our warm, waterproof boots. We tried to imagine living through the war in wool coats and boots full of holes (if you had either).

I just like this image–the boys having fun together

We went home feeling more than a little spoiled.

Ascending Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 30, 2012

Having descended as far as we were willing to climb and absorbed the scenery, we decided to start back up to the top of Stone Door. We started our way back up the steep ascent.

Scrambling back up the fallen outcropping proved easier in terms of keeping our footing, but more difficult when it came to heart rate and breathing. I was quickly reminded that I haven’t been spending much time on my bike of late.

Truthfully, there is not much that seems to prepare my body for steep climbs other than, well, steep climbs. Every time I take the steps, I am reminded that riding a bike, rowing a sculling boat, doing yoga, and walking are not really comparable exercises.

This day, I was reminded that only stair climbing is good preparation for ascending steep slopes. I am not fond of stair climbing. I’d much rather climb a steep hill out of breath than spend hours going up indoor stairs in preparation.

When we reached the first plateau, we stopped. I pretended to want to take more shots of the cliffside above us. I really just wanted to catch my breath. But, the cliffside was fascinating. The volume of rock that had fallen next to the volume of rock still standing made my knees feel a little weak contemplating what it would be like to be standing on top of the overlook when it suddenly caved away. I hope no one was there the day the rocks fell.

A chunk of the cliff fell in what must have been the same position it was in at the top

This chunk of cliff must have fallen long ago to have been reshaped into a smooth mound

The natural overlook at the top of Stone Door framed between the trees

We continued slowly up the rest of the ascent. I’ve learned that racing up steps doesn’t pay. Racing leads to having to stop for long recovery times. A slow steady pace allows the heart and lungs to keep up so the turtle passes the hare. I learned this when hiking in the Rockies. In my twenties, my friends and I sped past a woman who was probably the age I am now only to be passed by her when we were all sucking wind later. We repeated our folly, passing her and being passed again 3x before reaching the end of our hike. She finished well ahead of us. That’s when the lesson sunk in.

We made it back up the wooden stairs and slowly made our way up the slippery, dripping stone steps through the stone door. I paused at the top to take a shot of the pitcher-handle tree at the entrance.

This crazy tree marks the entrance to the Stone Door

Having worked up a sweat, we decided it was a good time to find a flat rock to sit on and have our picnic lunch. We stayed much further back from the edge of the overlook this time–the image of that overhang was still fresh in my mind. While we feasted on our wild-caught smoked salmon, carrot sticks, and apples, the dogs chewed happily on pigs ears. Tisen had to be convinced it was edible. But once he got a good grip on it, he was sold. Good thing–he’s allergic to salmon.

Tisen enjoys a tasty treat at the top of Stone Door

Descent Below Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 29, 2012

Once we reached the bottom of the Stone Door, we continued downward beyond both sets of manmade stairs. If we’d been feeling more in shape, we might have gone all the way to the bottom of the valley. However, it was Christmas Day and we weren’t prepared to make the return climb back up, so we limited our descent to a distance we could comfortably climb back up.

The path went through fallen outcroppings of rocks. Rough natural steps were formed (or maybe occasionally placed) from the fallen limestone. But the steps were uneven with cracks and slippery spots. I nearly fell on more than one occasion while working my way down one of the larger rocks. All I could think was “protect the camera.”

When we reached the point we decided would be the end of our descent, we stopped and looked back. The outcropping we’d been standing on earlier looked a little more frightening in the context of the enormous chunk of fallen rock we’d just scrambled down–particularly when we saw just how much that overlook juts out from the cliffside.

An example of a rock shelf that looks like it will slide off down the hill at any time

Looking back at the overlook we’d been standing on, we realize how much of an overhang their is

So much of the stone looked like it was precariously perched, just waiting for the wind to pick up enough speed or water to pour down hard enough or lightening to strike or a few too many hikers to jump up and down on the overlook to break free and find its way down to the valley below.

Tisen and Twiggy were unimpressed by the scene. They were busy searching through the leaves for interesting new scents. Did they find evidence of a bear? Perhaps just a deer. Whatever smells they found, they buried their noses in them and wagged their tails feverishly.

Thankfully, Pat had them back on leashes and was able to keep them from running off on down the valley tracking whatever scent they’d picked up. To be honest, Twiggy probably knew exactly what scent she’d found–she’s a true hunter. Tisen was more likely to just be imitating Twiggy, going through the motions, trusting that Twiggy had found something really good.

We stood gazing at the fallen rocks with trees growing out of them and tried to guess how long those rocks have been lying there. I have no idea how to guess how old the trees decorating them are–they could be 20 years or 100 years old. The rock no longer looks like a disaster scene but rather like it’s settled into the earth it met with some time ago. The sharp edges have softened and fissures have opened in the rock, allowing for more trees to grow.

I like this metaphor. A big crash that seems like total destruction creates a place for new life to flourish. Lichens cover the rocks. Leaves decompose on and around the stone, creating rich new soil. The rock collects and redirects water into the fissures, watering the seeds the have fallen in the cracks. Life reclaims the fallen and uses them anew.

Through the Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 28, 2012

When we went to Stone Door for our Christmas hike, we decided to go a bit further than the last time we visited. On our previous trip, we had a second hike scheduled and didn’t have a lot of time to spend at Stone Door.

This time, having no other destination and not having worked up an appetite for lunch yet, we decided to take the steps down through Stone Door to see what it was like from below.

The steps, I’m sure, have been improved since ancient civilizations used them long ago. The rocks look to have been cut and placed for easier access. This does not, however, make them an easy descent. Especially not with two dogs on leashes. Fortunately for me, Pat took the dogs ahead and carefully made his way down the steps while I took some shots from above.

Twiggy takes the lead down the Stone Door steps

Pat holds on to the Stone Door frame while working his way down with the dogs

The way down was made more treacherous by the water dripping on the rocks. Slippery in places, steep, and uneven, I had trouble making it safely while protecting my camera from dripping water. Good thing Pat had the dogs.

At the bottom of the stone steps, I paused to take a shot back up the crevice. The “pitcher handle” at the top of the steps is a misshapen tree that looks like it might have been one of the forces that originally pried apart the rocks (not really, but its shape is pretty mysterious).

A tree forms a pitcher handle at the top of the Stone Door steps

The stone steps only took us down about 50 feet or so. The river at the bottom of the valley was still well below and out of sight. We continued down a bit further, curious to see if we would have a view of the river.

Once through the Stone Door, a big chunk the rock face has slid down the mountain, leaving a flat spot. The park added wooden stairs for the next section of the descent.

At the bottom of the Stone Door, wooden steps make for easier access

We had a bit of a dog logistics issue at this point. About half way down the stone steps, Pat had let the dogs off their leashes, feeling it was safer for all. They decided to go around the wooden stairs and headed off on a rock that came to a dead end over a big drop. I got a little frantic that they were getting close to the edge and in calling them, caused Tisen to panic and, instead of meeting us at the bottom of the stairs, which would have been easiest, he decided to leap up the 4-foot retaining wall to get back to my side as quickly as possible. He did a belly flop into the wall on the first attempt. He made it the second time and showed no signs of injury, so we allowed ourselves to snicker a little.

Tisen flopped into the retaining wall trying to jump back up to get to the top of the steps

We all made it to the bottom of the stairs together safely. We stood for a few minutes looking back at the rock face we had just come through. I imagine the stories if it could talk!

Straight, even, and not slippery, the second section of the descent went much more smoothly

Stone Door Christmas

Posted by dkrashb on December 27, 2012

What does one do for Christmas when one is far from family? Well, we decided to go hiking. This is not so far removed from what we normally do on Christmas. Although we were without my brother, sister-in-law, and nephews, we normally at least go for a walk on Christmas if not an out-and-out hike.

This year, we decided to undertake a slightly more strenuous outing. Not a lot more strenuous, mind you. We opted for a relatively easy and short hike given we’re a bit out of shape these days. Plus, with Twiggy staying with us over the holiday, we weren’t sure what she would be like on the trail.

Wanting a low-stress outing, we decided to revisit Stone Door in the South Cumberland State Park. The walk from the parking lot to the main overlook is only about a mile and the first portion of the trail is paved and wheelchair accessible.

We layered up although it was in the low 50’s here on Christmas day–the wind was strong enough to make it feel cooler. We’d actually planned ahead for once and had provisions for a special Christmas picnic with wild caught smoked salmon, deli rolls, and cream cheese.

Twiggy’s mom had also provided a care package for the dogs for Christmas, so we packed pigs ears and lamb sausages for them to snack on. The care package also included two new toys–a white fluffy ball for Twiggy and a squeaky green reindeer for Tisen.

Tisen claimed the white fluffy ball instead and wouldn’t let Twiggy near it. Notice the ball next to Tisen’s head while riding in the car.

Tisen uses Twiggy’s new toy as a pillow while Twiggy snuggles with Tisen’s Big Dog

Stone Door is one of the more surprising places near us–at least to us. The drive from Chattanooga to Stone Door is beautiful in and of itself. The highway winds its way through the tree-covered mountains and through Nick-a-Jack lake, making the hour plus drive enjoyable in and of itself. Then, the first overlook on the Stone Door trail is a breath-taking experience, even though you don’t have to leave asphalt to get to it. It’s the kind of scenery that I grew up thinking you had to travel a long way to see.

An easy-access spectacular view

From the easy-access overlook, you can see the rock outcropping where the Stone Door overlook starts

Further down the trail, the top of the Stone Door (which is really a crevice that has provided a path down to the valley below for thousands of years) affords even more breath-taking views.

Cliff-side trees always impress me–good thing they’re not afraid of heights

This tree seems to have given up the ghost, but it still clings cliffside

I sometimes get a little closer to the edge than I’m really comfortable with–unlike the trees, I am afraid of heights

Between the rocks, a huge hole provides a window to the valley below

This is the kind of rock that makes me suspect the ledge I’m standing on is really jutting out over the cliff–makes my knees weak

The “gulf” seems to go on forever

The mostly limestone geography creates spectacular outcroppings

What I love the most about the Stone Door overlook is the sound. We sat on the stones at the top of the cliff and just listened for a while. The only sounds we could hear were the wind blowing through the needles of many evergreens and the river tumbling down the valley far below, out of sight. It’s a magical experience to close your eyes and feel like you are air and water and know that life is good. Seems pretty appropriate for Christmas.

Even Tisen and Twiggy seem impressed by the view

Looking back at the mountain from the overlook provides this view

Tisen freezes for me for just a moment

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