Piedras Marcadas

Albuquerque had a fine sunny Wednesday, so I decided to take a hike through the Piedras Marcadas section of the Petroglyph National Monument.  Access to much of the site is limited by rope barriers, so photography is best undertaken with the help of a telephoto lens.  With my camera of the day, a No.1-A Folding Pocket Kodak Special, I had to limit most of my photo making to panels close to the trail.

The film was Fomapan 100, processed in HC-110b.  In the camera, FPP 120 to 116 spool adapters were used to hold the roll film firmly in place.  Eight rotations of the winder takes the film to the first frame.  Two-and-one-half rotations separates succeeding frames.

I also made quite a few shots of the rock art with my little digital Canon A1000 IS and I'll post some of those on my other blog.

Hunting for Rock Art

 I went with a friend to visit the south end of the Petroglyph National Monument west of Albuquerque.  We were disappointed to find that the entire length of the east-facing slope is now blocked with a strand of steel cable and signs saying the area is closed to allow restoration of the vegetation.  That will likely reduce some foot traffic in the area, but does not offer any protection from vandalism as one can simply step over the wire.

Nevertheless, we honored the signs and stayed on the right side of the fence for the mile or two past the rock art panels.  I didn't want to return on the same path, so suggested we climb the slope past the end of the barrier and walk back along the canyon rim.  I was pleased to actually accomplish that given my rather poor mobility, and even more pleased to find a fine example of rock art along the rim consisting of the common concentric circles design accompanied by a turtle.  That made what had tuned into a five mile hike seem worthwhile.

We descended from the mesa down the gentler west slope to get back to my truck.  About half way down we came across this interesting rippled volcanic pavement that was laid down about 150,000 years ago by oozing eruptions along the Rio Grande Rift.

I felt unfatigued the next day and, suspecting I had not gotten any good quality images due in part to the excessive brightness of the noonday sun, I loaded the dog in the truck early in the morning and drove back to the mesa.  I returned to the mesa top along the easy west slope and was looking out atop the rimrock toward the mountains in about half an hour.

Turning north to follow the rim to the site of the petroglyph panel,  I stepped on a rock about knee height and suddenly felt the achilles tendon in my left leg stretch to the breaking point.  I ended up about ten feet downslope on my back.  My pinhole camera and the tripod were back where I had fallen. The Nikon F was still on its strap around my neck; I did not discover until later that the camera's rewind lever had snapped off.

Lying on my back and looking up at the blue New Mexico sky my first thought, of course, was to wonder if I would be crawling the mile back to the truck.  I was unable to flex my left foot, but I did manage to get myself into a standing position.  I found that I could walk -- very slowly -- by keeping the left foot flat.  I did have to scoot on my butt down one rocky slope to the sandy arroyo that parallels the west face of the mesa. Soon after we reached the arroyo a coyote started barking at me and the dog; it sounded a lot like laughter.

I think we reached the truck in about an hour.  Working the clutch was quite a challenge, but we made it home safely.  I ordered a replacement rewind lever from ebay for the Nikon F.  The leg will likely need some expert attention before I can get back to reshoot that rock art.

Miles gone by

 I revisited the southernmost section of the Petroglyph National Monument.  It has been quite a while -- five years? ten? -- I'm not sure.  Memories of the place were sparked by a recent discovery of the photographic work of David Grant Noble who spent about forty years documenting ancient ruins and rock art of the Southwest. I'm not sure how I missed seeing Noble's excellent pictures sooner; I only became aware of them because the Maxwell Museum has scheduled an exhibit and artist talk in May. I was pleased to find a couple copies of Noble's book, In the Places of the Spirits, in the Albuquerque Library.

I was also delighted to find that Craig Childs has published several books since I read House of Rain twelve years ago. I decided to start catching up with Childs by reading Tracing Time; Seasons of Rock Art on the Colorado Plateau. Childs' approach to thinking about the ancient cultures of the Southwest is informed by familiarity with the academic research, but it is fundamentally the product of a unique personal immersion in the region's arid environment.

One of the topics Childs deals with in Tracing Time is the destruction of the ancient petroglyphs and pictographs.  In previous books he made the case for leaving any traces of past cultures completely undisturbed.  In this later work he suggests that those who deface and destroy ancient rock art are motivated by assertions of power and ownership which likely were behind similar destruction in ancient times.  It is not uncommon to find rock art panels with many layers of pecked or painted designs laid down over centuries.  The difference, of course, is that the destructive process has been greatly speeded up by exponential population growth along with greatly more efficient tools of destruction including firearms, spray paint and off-road vehicles.

Over the years I have maintained this blog I have at regular intervals acknowledged the idea that my photographic efforts would be enhanced by a more focused and deliberate approach, as opposed to just walking for miles and recording interesting sights I came across.  My journey back to Mesa Prieta yesterday was a concrete expression of that strategic option, brought about now by necessity.  I just can no longer wander for miles at a time to indulge an urge to record serendipitous discoveries.  I'll likely get back to National Petroglyph Monument again soon, and also hope to visit some of the many other rock art sites within a day's drive from Albuquerque.

I am also thinking I will try to narrow my choice of cameras to a few which are likely to produce reliable results to match my current photographic ambitions.  I exposed my recent roll of slightly expired Tri-X in my Mamiya C330, first on a walk beside the river, and then during my visit to the rock art site.  What I found in the process was that it would have been wise to quickly review the camera's manual before setting out as I encountered some problems with lens swapping which I was not prepared for. The C330 is the most versatile tlr available, but the controls are decidedly unintuitive.

Kentmere 400 in XTOL 1:0

 My results with Kentmere 400 in undiluted Xtol were similar to what I got with HP5.  Both films liked morning light, particularly when there was some sky in the frame.  Bright mid-day sun and haze tended to flatten the mid-tones and emphasize grain in the skies.

So, I think the outcomes with these two fast films in xtol are pretty respectable, though it seems to me that they are not quite up the what I have gotten from PMK Pyro processing.  On the other hand, there are a lot of variables that complicate my assessment including my choices of camera, lens, exposure, time of day, photoshop adjustments, and scanner settings.  I'm also uncertain at this point about how well xtol ages compared to some of my other developers.  

Time Travel

When I want to get away from city streets I most often head east to the nearby foothills of the Sandia Mountains.  Several times a year I go a few miles in the opposite direction to Albuquerque's West Mesa.  My preferred objective in that area is the southern end of the long basalt escarpment which marks the boundary of the lava flows that emanated from a north-south fissure a couple miles to the west.  Only about a thousand feet separate the escarpment rim from the nearest housing developments, but the grid of streets and rooftops seems  distant and superficial because of the elevation and the intervening desert terrain.
    The distance between the basalt cliffs and the housing developments is perhaps better expressed in the dimension of time.  The suburbs only go back decades, while the lava cap of the mesa was laid down around 150,000 years ago.  Though that age predates human encroachment by well over 100,000 years it is still relatively young by geologic standards. The area between the small volcanic peaks and the escarpment's cliff face probably looks much as it did shortly after the lava cap was formed.

The slope below the rim is littered with great blocks of basalt which erosion has broken away from the face of the escarpment.  Spaces between the boulders are packed with dried tumbleweeds and other vegetation which often conceals deep clefts.  During the day one sees a few rabbits among the rock rubble while hawks glide noiselessly from one favored perch to another.  A pair of ravens will usually swoop in to voice their displeasure at any intruders.  Large rattlers are seen among the rocks frequently during the warm months, but in cold weather you can put your feet anywhere they will fit with only the risk of broken bones as a deterrent.

Although the litter and noise of the city is not far distant, little of that seems to reach the top of the cliffs.  The prevailing silence and the dramatic jumble of sharp edged boulders instill a sense of an unbroken continuum of Time.  Looking east you see the present and very recent past, while turning your gaze north, south or west shows you the world much as it was many millennia in the past.

Ancient rock art can be found all along the escarpment.  The images were laboriously pecked through the patina of the hard basalt to provide a contrasting design on the dark surface.  Most of the images date from the last few hundred years of occupation of the valley by Pueblo people, but a few go back thousands of years to the area's first inhabitants.  Later arrivals during the last couple centuries have added religious iconography, graffiti and bullet scars.

Winter Walking

Most of New Mexico has experienced an unusually mild winter this year.  I took a walk yesterday through the Botanical Gardens.  The Mediterranean Conservatory is always a nice refuge on winter days, but the temperature difference on cold days can fog glasses and camera lenses.  No fog problem this time for the Pentax ME.

Most of the shrubbery has been pruned back to prepare for the coming Sping.  There are a few daffodils and crocus starting to pop up through the leaf litter, and leaf buds are already showing up on tree branches.

This morning I walked the trail through the Rinconada rock art site on the west side of the Rio Grande.  Only a handful of the thousands of petroglyphs are currently accessible as fencing has been put in place to allow recovery of the terrain and vegetation on the rocky slopes.

When we came to Albuquerque ten years ago there were no restrictions on movement at the site and I was able to thoroughly explore the place from top to bottom.  I doubt that kind of access will be available again.

Lost and Found

This kachina cult figure, possibly representing a bear shaman, is located in the Piedras Marcadas section of the Petroglyph National Monument on Albuquerque's west side..  Its creation likely dates back about three hundred years.

About six months ago, the bear shaman was lost, not to the world, but to me personally.  I had visited the the image several times since we first moved to Albuquerque in 2008 and photographed it with a couple of my old cameras.  Then, when I decided to revisit the rock art image and photograph  again about six months ago, I was unable to locate it.  I went back a half dozen times, but no luck; the image and its thousand-pound boulder seemed to have evaporated.  Something similar happened to me a couple times in the past twenty years that I have pursued an interest in ancient Southwest rock art.  I'm not sure exactly what goes on in my brain on these occasions; I'm usually pretty good at finding my way, even in unfamiliar or difficult terrain.  I knew the approximate location to within about a half-mile square around the site, but I just could not pin down the precise location.  How I finally relocated the rock art image seems as unlikely now as the image's strange disappearance.

The development of my interest in rock art more or less coincided with the beginning of collecting, restoring and using old film cameras.  One important resource in helping to get my old cameras working was a web site maintained by Rick Oleson who is extraordinarily talented at fixing old film cameras, as well as in illustrating his restorations with photos and drawings.  In addition to consulting Rick's site as needed, I also followed his photographic work on the Flickr photo sharing site.  One day recently, I noted that Rick's photo stream included some familiar looking rock art images.  It turned out that he had made a cross-country trip from his home in Kentucky that included a stop in Albuquerque and a visit to the Petroglyph National Monument.  And there among his images was a picture of the lost bear shaman.  It seemed an extraordinary coincidence.

Photo by Rick Oleson

Fortunately for me Rick's photograph included some important details of the terrain surrounding the rock art figure.  I made a sketch of his image paying particular attention to the profile of the escarpment behind the shaman figure, as well as some other rock art images which could just barely be made out among the jumble of rocks.  I returned to the Piedras Marcadas site with the sketch in my pocket and pretty confident of success, but it actually took me about an hour walking in and out of the several small canyons there to finally locate the shaman.  Perhaps I would have found the figure eventually on my own, but I certainly would never have imagined that I would locate it with the help of Rick Oleson.

Rock Art Morning

I enjoyed a morning outing to the Piedras Marcadas rock art site on the west side of Albuquerque thanks to being able to participate in a free photo workshop there conducted by Mark Bohrer.  I reaffirmed the fact that I am constitutionally unable to walk around taking pictures with a group of other photographers.  I did, however, appreciate Mark's fine introduction to the subject.  I was also inspired to look at the familiar site in a somewhat different way than I have in the past, and I explored some new ideas using color and filters that I hadn't got around to trying before.  Splendid weather and a fine experience.

A couple more pinholes

I took the pinhole for a walk through the Piedras Marcadas rock art site on the west side of Albuquerque.  I was pleased with the pictures, though I don't know that I'll find a use for them in my current book project.

I had a great walk.  The sun was warm enough to make me regret wearing a winter coat.  Half way to the bear shaman glyph I was greeted by a coyote chorus.  Also saw lots of birds: road runners, doves and rock wrens.

I like the pinhole camera for the way its pictures reflect my feelings as I stand in front of the work of the ancient image makers.  I always have the sensation in such places that the great expanse of time since the images were made is really part of an unbroken continuum in which those original artists and I somehow exist simultaneously.

Piedras Marcadas

Warmer weather in Albuquerque prompted me to ride over to the Piedras Marcadas section of the Petroglyph National Monument.

The rock art along the volcanic ridge west of town is mostly in the Rio Grande style from the Pueblo IV period, spanning the 14th to the 17th Centuries.  At that time the Puebloan people were abandoning the big ceremonial centers like Chaco Canyon in the Four Corners region.  They concentrated along the Rio Grande valley in large agricultural settlements and the rock art reflected the flourishing of the Kachina cults.  Images of horses show that the period overlapped the Spanish invasion.

time traveling

The Petroglyph National Monument stretches seventeen miles along a series of basalt ridges created by an ancient lava flow west of Albuquerque.  I went recently to a section of the monument that is infrequently visited and found some nice panels mid-way up the longest ravine.  This kachina warrior probably dates from somewhere between the 13th and 17th Centuries.  There are a few like this at each of the major sites within the monument boundaries.

The star face figures such as this one below are also found frequently.  I did not see this one until I walked by it on my second visit when it was illuminated by the setting sun.

Most of the star face figures are depicted as simple four-prong stars, some with rudimentary appendages.  The one below is the first I've noticed that is attached to a well-proportioned body.  As with the kachina figure nearby, this one holds a war club in the right hand.  The left grasps a bow.

Many of the rock art figures have gotten very dim from weathering the centuries.  It often takes many visits to the same site to find just the right light to bring out design features for the camera.  Now that our monsoon season is starting up, I hope to get back to the place again soon to see how things look under an overcast sky.

This set of pictures was made with my Pentax Spotmatic and a 24mm SMC Takumar lens.  The wide-angle is helpful in framing shots when one is forced to shoot from cramped and precarious positions among the surrounding boulders.  On my next visit I'll probably take the Kodak Reflex II, a tlr with a lens that is very helpful in sorting out the nuances of tone and texture of the petroglyphs.

Mesa Prieta

On a recent Friday morning
I walked about a mile along the escarpment at the southern end of the Petroglyph National Monument which is known as Mesa Prieta. In addition to the many fine petroglyphs, I saw a covey of scaled quail.