Molten Lava Sky

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Absolutely minimal processing. One tweak of exposure. A tiny bit of noise reduction because it was shot with the G7 at ISO 400, at least. Maybe 800. No Kidding.

We were on our way back from Los Angeles, Thursday, and The Husband decided on a whim to take the all-freeway route back home. We had both just commented on what a beautiful day it had been with the air still clean and fresh from the rain earlier in the week. We were crossing the Mojave Desert when the sun began to dip to the horizon and we could see we were headed for a lovely sunset. We couldn't have known we were in for this treat. The Husband pulled off the freeway in the Mojave Desert and we stood, for some time, gaping at this giant cloud looking more like molten lava than any cloud I have seen. I wish I had been carrying a wide angle lens and a camera to do this justice, but just watching this marvel was reward enough. Any record at all was a bonus for me.

A Lively Ghost Town

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Randsburg, a small town on the western edge of the Mojave Desert, hangs on the side of a mountain and is sometimes described as a living ghost town. Like Jerome, Arizona, it retains most of its old west, mining town character while holding on to life. There are shops open on weekends and the General Store, along with a bar called The Joint, stay open on weekdays.

Randsburg is one of a trio of towns that were part of the mining district in the Rand Mountains of Kern County. Gold was first discovered in the area in 1896 and, just as the gold was becoming more scarce, miners discovered silver and tungsten. The mining continues to this day with several mines still producing.

A small amount of tourism contributes to the economy of Randsburg. (I have yet to visit on a weekend when the antique stores and the museum are open.) Many residents still prospect; others work in mining operations nearby. The Rand Mining Company, as well as the Twenty Mule Team Borax Mine in Boron, employ their share of Randsburg residents, while some folks commute to the nearby salt flats, for example.

There is enough to see in town to motivate several trips. However, it is not looking good for my return until after summer is done. June is another surgery month for me, then by July and August no one in their right mind will want to be that close to the Mojave Desert. At least not in my humble opinion.

Light Shows

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Yesterday, Paul Lester shared an experience that triggered a memory. A few months ago, we had one of those long days driving to Los Angeles and back. One of the errands was picking up the last vehicle that had been left at a repair shop in LA. That meant that, during the drive home, rather than being in the passenger seat free to indulge in my drive-by photography, I would be behind the wheel and forced to keep my attention on traffic and the road. By the time we got on the road, the sun was low, and it was obvious that we would see a spectacular sunset. Sure enough, a phenomenal light show ensued. This was one of those that wasn’t just a striking sunset. It was a 360 degree light extravaganza. It just kept getting better with every passing minute. I was in serious emotional distress. I desperately wanted to be outside my car with my camera.

The Husband was driving the ‘76 Scout that we had picked up from the shop, late that afternoon, and, in both our minds, there lingered questions about that vehicle’s total reliability. (Indeed, it was ultimately headed for another pit stop with a mechanic closer to Bear Valley Springs who specializes in Scouts.) We both wanted to end the drive and be safely home with the all the questions behind us. As we sailed along the crowded freeway, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to call The Husband on his cell requesting a detour for photographing the gorgeous colors and breathtaking light. He is amazingly indulgent and supportive of my obsession; still, he occasionally puts common sense ahead of photo ops. Go figure.

That put me in an odd position. On one hand, I was fervently hoping nothing would go wrong, the Scout would prove sound, and we would soon have a somewhat nerve-frazzling trip behind us. On the other hand, I desperately wanted to stop and get at least one shot. I toyed with the notion of concocting the need for a bathroom stop at the first service station out there in the desert. That wouldn’t have worked—he would have had one look at the camera in my hand and easily seen through my ruse. While I tried to come up with a convincing reason to stop, The Husband called me.

One of the reasons for our uncertainty over the Scout was the recent discovery that the old gas gauge was less than reliable and the call was an announcement that we would be exiting the freeway for a fuel stop. Yippee! Never mind that it was bitter cold by that time and the wind was howling, I was elated. We pulled off the freeway making our way to the service station, and I began scouting for my best vantage point. (This display was still good for about 180 degrees.) The moment my wheels rolled to a stop at the station, I jumped out of my car and hot-footed it to a spot across the exit road we had just turned off on and beyond the distractions near the station. I had a few seconds to shoot some of the final moments of the light that I had been enjoying for the past hour. Fortunately, the remainder of the drive was uneventful—except that, while the darkenss closed in, my mind’s eye was still full of all that glorious light and color that I had had witnessed.