Fermilab, from the inside out

Last weekend, KLK and I enjoyed a most wonderful "backstage tour" on the second bi-annual Photowalk at Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory, or Fermilab. The first fifty photographers to sign up (the tour filled up within a day or two of being announced) were divided into groups of 10, each group bussed in rotation to five different facilities and invited to photograph the equipment and talk with waiting scientists to their heart's content. My previous post on Fermilab focused on the great natural grounds of this international scientific resource in Batavia, Illinois, about 40 minutes west of Chicago. Fermilab is one of about 20 national laboratories and technology centers around the country funded by U.S. Department of Energy contracts as well as the grants from agencies such as the National Science Foundation supporting teams of individual investigators. Fermilab made the news a couple of years ago when the DoE announced it would not renew funding for its largest high-energy particle accelerator, the Tevatron, as its utility has been eclipsed by the opening of the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) near Geneva. However, Fermilab continues to thrive as a center of particle physics experimentation (as of this writing, pending continuation of support in the FY 2013 federal budget, of course) and remains an important locus of international collaboration. For example, researcher groups at the LHC pipe their data to Fermilab's Grid Computing Center to be crunched:

Here's a peep at what goes on at the back of just one of the many large banks of computers within the Grid Computing Center, the combined activity of which is impressively loud and emits sufficient heat that it is not all that comfortable for humans in there:

All of this is connected by miles of spaghetti-like green cable in an open overhead conduit:

One accelerator beneath the Fermilab grounds creates anti-particles by smashing protons together at inconceivable speeds and detecting what new matter bounces out of the subatomic cataclysms:

 

A truly massive collision detector, where the existence of the target particles is sensed and recorded, is required even for such infinitesimally small subatomic matter:

 

There is not much at Fermilab that is simple: visible manifestations of the math, physics, programming, and engineering are staggering. I love the big red light at the top of this apparatus in case something goes wrong - like maybe the machines suddenly decide to rise up and stage a revolt?

 

Of course, you can't just go to Wal-Mart to get parts. The fabrication shop is enormous, and provides glimpses into the inner workings of machinery, the purpose of which is well beyond my imagining. It is endlessly sculptural:

Some elements have personality to spare. This guy, a component in the New Muon Lab (still under development) with his bright green eyes and long brass nose, might be a futuristic relation to Thomas the Tank Engine.

But sometimes, what goes on is laughably simple. Here we see documentation that science is nothing more than duct tape. What it's holding together isn't clear, but together it and its fellow pieces certainly have an arty look:

 

Or, maybe all it takes to do science is aluminum foil:

Or the ever-useful Saran Wrap, albeit it the biggest piece of plastic wrap you've ever seen:

And, completely familiar and mundane components, which I would bet are nonetheless extremely carefully milled to exacting requirements:

In the absence of an adequate understanding or vocabulary to properly describe all we saw, but in the knowledge that it is important and profound, let me also say that what goes on inside and outside of the halls (and tunnels) of Fermilab is visually delicious and intellectually thrilling. Here are the excited Photowalk participants assembled on the steps of the architecturally-distinguished Wilson Hall,ready to be awed by what was to come (Reidar Hahn photo):

Turn on your sound, watch and hear the grid computers at work and imagine the heat:

Parkitecture: Mary E.J. Colter and the American Southwest

It's only recently in my many years of visits to America's and Canada's national parks that I've turned my attention from the natural environment to the man-built. My growing interest in these structures - lodging, visitor centers, commemorative markers, and preserved historic, and even prehistoric buildings - became very focused this April on a brief visit to the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Most of the stand-out buildings there were designed and decorated by one extraordinary architect, Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter. She was extraordinary for many reasons, but above all, she was a strikingly talented and inspired woman in a profession and a world overwhelmingly dominated by men. She was tremendously successful in creating structures that not only fit perfectly into their landscapes, but that actually seemed to enhance the them. Born in 1869, trained at the at the California School of Design in San Francisco, and serving as a teacher in the Mechanic Arts High School in St. Paul during era of the Arts and Crafts movement, Colter honed her trade as a designer. Although it's lost to history how it came to be, in 1902, she was hired by the Fred Harvey Company. The Fred Harvey company (which name is still prominent in the American tourism business today) in partnership with the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway, had an incomparable role in developing the tourist trade in New Mexico and Arizona, among other states along therails from Chicago to Los Angeles during the period from 1873 into the 1930s. Fred Harvey ran high quality restaurants first in railroad depots, and then branching out to the lodging business in key destinations. The Harvey Company also notably developed the quality souvenir trade, showcasing the talents of Native American silversmiths, potters, carvers and weavers along the tracks. They provided ground transport as well, guiding tourists to the scenic and cultural sites of the Pueblo, Hopi, and Navajo nations, and the Grand Canyon, Painted Desert, and other natural splendors. 

Colter's work at the Grand Canyon was begun just two years after she joined the Harvey enterprises with the design of a magnificent rim-side building known as Hopi House. In it she revealed her deep understanding of native regional architecture as well as the romance it represented. Here it is today, serving, as it did originally, as a first class gift shop:

Just about 100 miles south, there is a wall at Honanki Ruins, built by ancestral Hopi peoples, that could have been inspiration for the stone work detail with adobe mortar at Hopi House:

Even the inside of Hopi House is still faithful to the architecture that inspired it, and it still serves as a purveyor of high quality Indian arts.

Colter's next Grand Canyon project was another gift shop, Hermit's Rest (1914), at the far west limit of the developed area of the national park. Although Hermit's Rest is not as substantial as the multistory, large-footprint Hopi House, it also reflects terrific creativity and imagination. Hermit's Rest is not based on Native American design, but rather suggests the spontaneous ingenuity of a free-spirited mountain man in its use of stone found in situ. Here is a view of the Seussian chimney, with a hint at the grand sights beyond:

So why does a gift shop need a chimney? Because the most prominent feature of the interior is a massively outsized fireplace niche:

Note the proportionately large and stylish lantern centered above. Colter not only designed exteriors, but she was meticulous in the choice and placement of interior features as well. Like Hopi House, Hermit's Rest is still used as a gift shop today.
Also in 1914, the Lookout Studio was erected on the very verge of the Grand Canyon:

 

The Lookout Studio reveals her fine Arts and Crafts sensibility blended with references to regional native stone-masonry.

Every rock was chosen and placed at her direction, every window was detailed according to her design. Originally a photography studio selling images of the Grand Canyon, Lookout Studio is today yet another gift concession.
In 1932, the Watchtower at Desert View, at the far eastern extent of the developed south rim, was opened. The Watchtower serves the primary purpose of affording magnificent views up and down the Canyon while itself resonating both with the color and character of the stone strata on which it perches, and the work of Native builders in the distant surrounds. I consider the Watchtower to the pinnacle of Colter's productivity at the Grand Canyon. 

In its circular shape, the tower re-imagined rare archaeological gems such as the Round Tower at Mesa Verde National Park, but multi-story structures were not uncommon among the dwellings of the pre-Columbian peoples of the southwest. This is the Wukoki Pueblo archaeological site, roughly 65 miles east of Colter's Desert View Watchtower.

Colter collaborated with Hopi painter Fred Kabootie to realize her interior designs, references to graphic arts of several southwestern cultures, including the Hopi, the Navajo, and the people who came before them.

Painted petroglyphs on the mezzanine of the Watchtower echo those to be seen at Petroglyph National Monument some 400 miles to the east:

No detail was left unexploited; when not apt to recall Native American style, Colter turned to Arts and Crafts, which in turn was suggestive the ironwork of the Spanish explorers, as here in the door at the base of the tower:

The Watchtower at Desert View, the Grand Canyon below and Navajoland beyond.

Colter designed and decorated other structures at the Grand Canyon, including Bright Angel Lodge and Cabins at the rim, and Phantom Ranch,lodging for intrepid travelers to the bottom of the Canyon. She also designed and decorated numerous other distinguished buildings, including the renowned La Posada Hotel in Winslow, Arizona (1930).La Posada was ideally sandwiched between Route 66 in the front, and the Santa Fe Railroad, which still runs immediately behind the hotel, positioned to serve both the growing automobile trade as well as passengers arriving by rail. A romantic stay at La Posada included hospitality, fine meals, and tours into Indian country, the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest and beyond, all provided by the Fred Harvey Company. In spite of the pall the failing economy put on tourism, the hotel survived until 1957. The Santa Fe Railroad converted the hotel into offices, eventually essentially abandoning it as it fell into disrepair. In the mid-1990's, developer Allan Affeldt and partners invested millions into restoring Mary Colter's magnum opus to its former purpose and glory.

I visited in 2011 and again in 2012. The results of their work and dedication is nothing short of magical. Although the Indian, Mexican, and Spanish treasures amassed by Mary Colter were auctioned off when the hotel closed in the 1950s, Affeldt's group has respected her sensibility in its highly successful restoration efforts. Today the hotel is full of new life, with commodious, charming, and utterly memorable private and public spaces without and within:

Colter's hand touched many other still-extant structures in the region, including the interior of the Painted Desert Inn of Painted Desert National Park near the Arizona-New Mexico border:

 

 And that of the famous La Fonda hotel in Santa Fe, also on old Route 66:

Hard though it is to believe, given her extraordinarily productive originality and creativity, in her lifetime, Colter was virtually unrecognized outside the confines of the Santa Fe Railroad-Fred Harvey Company collaboration and the praise of a few industry critics. Today, Mary E.J. Colter is an icon of her era. 

 Mary Colter, 1890

For further reading, I recommend the beautifully written and produced Mary Colter: Architect of the Southwest, by Arnold Berke, Princeton Architectural Press, 2000. Although Berke's treatment is nearly comprehensive, one subject never broached is that of cost. If anything is clear from the Mary Colter story, it is that execution of her work had to require exceptional investment, and it appears no budgetary restrictions were imposed on her creativity. This is a historically relevant facet that I wish Berke had documented.

Silliest Junk Email of the Year - So Far

Did the year you're referring to start August 1? If so, I feel better already!

The view from my window

Yesterday at about 4:30 PM Chicago time:

Today, at about 6:30 PM Chicago time:

 

No harm done, as it turns out.

The Great Gray Hunter

Although we weren't lucky with bear close-ups this year, we did relish other  opportunities to watch and photograph wildlife, in particular one fine June morning in Grand Teton National Park. While "cruisin' for bear" early in the day we made a short foray along the wildlife-rich Moose-Wilson Road at the far south end of the park, and quickly came upon a small gaggle of what I call Big Glass - folks behind high-magnification spotting scopes and cameras with extraordinarily long focal-length lenses on tripods - set up in the brush on a steep rise above the road. By this time I had hurt my toe (more about that later) so I hobbled up the rise to ask the standard question, "whatchalookinat?"  It turned out to be a flicker nest in a tree hole some 20 yards away; mom and dad were making frequent chow-shuttles, resulting, to be sure, in wonderful photographic moments with the chicks rising open-mouthed to receive the goods. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case turned out to be, the small-scale action was too far for my 300 mm lens, which had been damaged in conjunction with my toe, and would not focus beyond 220 mm. So, having found nothing by way of bears or other "charismatic megafauna" within zoom range, we started slowly making our way back north; as we approached a seasonal pond often patronized by moose (Alces alces), we could just see around a curve that there was more big glass assembled in a pullout. We guessed it might be Mr. Moose again, a most handsome fellow working on his velvety 2012 antlers, that we photographed the day before:

 

But to our great delight, it was something far less often seen than a moose: a great gray owl (Strix nebulosa):

 

It was amazing to see such a large bird (according to the Peregrine Fund site: "The Great Gray Owl has a body length of about 24-33 inches, a wingspan of 4.5-5 feet, and weighs only 1.5-3 pounds, despite its large size.") securely balanced at the tip-top of a pointed snag:

Great grays are "crepuscular" hunters, meaning that they hunt at dawn, making them among the easier of their kind to watch. But this roost was much too high for this ground-hunting owl, so within a few minutes, it relocated, miraculously, closer to its small, respectful audience at the roadside.

It stood there quietly rotating and tipping its head to better sense any movement in the grass below. It showed no sign of being disturbed, or even aware, of the silent watchers not far away. 
Then, to muffled gasps, the owl again moved closer, this time to a perch only a yard or a yard-and-a-half or so above the long, lush grass. 

It listened intently

And then it heard what it had been waiting for

As there was no struggle, we feared it had failed, but we misjudged its precision-accuracy as a hunter. This was the only time it looked directly at the assembled watchers.

The vole struggled hopelessly for its life, but the owl's grip was firm. It dispatched its prey mercifully.

At this angle you can just see the array of fine feathers surrounding its face; these feathers serve as sensors to help it detect the movement of prey such as small rodents hidden on the ground below.

 

It is unlikely even an experienced great gray owl-watcher would have been able to tell whether the bird was a male or female due to the species' lack of dimorphism in external sex characteristics, but the fact that it did not eat the vole, but instead at last took flight with it, landing deeper and much higher into the trees behind the slough, suggests that it too had a waiting hungry brood.

I do not know how long before our arrival it had been hunting, but the fact that we watched the drama unfold over almost half an hour provides some sense of what enormous investments Nature demands of its parents in their job of continuing the species. That we were privileged to see its unfolding was yet another extraordinary gift of the park.

Note: Please accept my apologies for the need for Do Not Use notices on certain photographs, and for my complete inability to gain the cooperation of Blogger.com in adjusting font sizes in spite of trying everything I can think of.

Cranky Bear Updates, 2012

KLK and I made our annual journey to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons in mid-June this summer, and as we have come to learn from our many, many (but never enough!) visits to the area, no two visits are alike. Each brings at least one, and usually multiple, unique experiences, sights, sensations, and adventures. You can read about our 2011 experiences that were special to that year, for example. 

Among other things, 2012 stood out, alas, as Not the Year of Bears. Bears are high on the list of favorite wildlife-watching subjects, and I have been lucky many times to get in some fantastic observation with photographic documentation; I blogged about the thrills of being in bear country about a year ago. In 2012, there was plenty of bear activity, it's just that, due to the luck of the draw, all of our sightings this year were of what we call "bear dots" - distant, or fleeting, or both. 

But one far-away sighting revealed bear behaviors that we had never before witnessed.  Last year, in Yellowstone's magnificent Hayden Valley, we enjoyed watching grizzly sow known as "Cranky Bear." I understand she got that moniker when she huffed at some photographers that were crowding her. Those photographers were lucky she didn't do anything more than that, as one of the other grizzly sows in the same vicinity killed one and ate part of another person before being captured and euthanized last year. 

Here's a photo of Cranky Bear and her two nice looking Cubs-of-the-Year (COYs) from June of 2011 (click to enlarge and see what magnificent animals they are:

One day on this trip, as we entered Hayden Valley from the south, we could see that a pullout-parking area on a high overlook was full of people with spotting scopes and binoculars aimed at the slopes across the Yellowstone River. Hayden is one of the world's richest areas for watching grizzly bears, bison, and wolves, among many other interesting animals, pawed, clawed or hoofed, furred or feathered. So we too stopped to scan the far high treeline, maybe a half mile distant, where there was a herd of elk cows, doubtless with their new spring calves bedded down invisibly in the sage. Many of the elk had their heads up, ears and eyes on alert, while, as usual, others calmly grazed. I said to KLK, "oh, it's just a bunch of elk, doesn't look like much else is going on" thinking we should get back in the car and move along in case we were missing something big happening elsewhere. 

But then, very suddenly, a big sow grizzly bear, with two kids in a line behind her charged out of the trees and into the midst of the elk, scattering the poor animals in all directions. We were gasping in anticipation (and my heart was pounding) that she would within seconds nail a helpless elk calf right before our (binocular-ed) eyes. As it turned out, she wasn't serious as she didn't bother to pursue the easy prey.  Apparently satisfied with her lesson to her cubs on how to terrify elk, she led her big babies gradually down the hill, nibbling at vegetation and grubbing for insects and small rodents as they made their way down to the river edge while the distraught elk retreated into the safety of the thick trees at the top of the ridge.
When the bears reached bottom, I could see that Mama Bear wanted to come across the river in our direction. She disappeared into low ground for a few minutes, only to reappear in the middle of the river, her big head floating above water, turned backwards to keep an eye on the cubs about 50 feet behind her, two basketball-like brown heads bobbing northwards in the current. Mama picked a safe spot to get out of the water on our side; I couldn't quite see them get out of the river, I would have loved to watch them shake off, like enormous dogs. But they soon re-appeared in the sage, making their way southward. If you click to enlarge the images you will recognize Cranky Bear and her now 2-year old cubs, back in the same territory they reigned over a year ago.

They continued moving steadily to our right, while also gradually coming closer to the assembled audience. 

As they neared, it all at once dawned on the people standing out on the edge of the rise that it would take the bears only a few seconds to get up that ridge should they decide to do so. Everyone started en masse back to the relative safety of the paved overlook, except for the couple of people who apparently thought discretion was the better part of valor and ran for their cars. As all this unfolded, with the bears paying absolutely no attention what-so-ever, a pale-coated coyote wandered along. KLK, whose angle of view was different from mine, said that the coyote's attention was instantly drawn to the runners. It stopped and stared, as if considering whether a tourist might be fun to chase, or perhaps even be worth a serious attempt at hunting down.

Coyotes are a wise dogs though, and it quickly determined it would be better to return to whatever its original agenda was and move on. The fleeing bear-watchers never noticed the coyote.

Returning our attention to bear-watching, we guessed the grizzlies, now out of our sight, would come out closer to a nearby geothermal area known as Mud Volcano (rather than coming up the ridge at the crowd), so we hopped in the car and headed that way. Bingo! 

These closer bear dot photos were taken from the car under terrible photography conditions, as by the time we got into a position to shoot there were massive numbers of cars stopped all over the road, doors flung and left hanging open, pedestrians all over the place with cameras glued to their eyes in an attempt to snap the photo of a lifetime. Fortunately, Cranky Bear was a model of a calm, fully focused on bulking up on the nice grass (though grizzlies are omnivores and need plenty of animal protein and fat from elk calves, for example, their most easily acquired calories are from plant matter), with her kids following suit. It was one of those terribly dangerous, classic Yellowstone situations where neither drivers nor pedestrians were paying any attention to anything other than the mother and baby bears by the road. 

Here is a bit of a blurry crop of one of Cranky Bear's beautiful children. I hope next year I can post more and better bear photos, especially if next year's photos can also illustrate  exciting wildlife behaviors!

The Log Cabin Café, Silver Gate Montana

I have been absent from Amusing Musings for the best of reasons: a 10-day mid-June sojourn with KLK through Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. This trip is a yearly must-do for us, as every trip is new and rewardingly different from the one before, but always nonetheless old and wonderfully familiar at the same time. I have just finished sorting through and processing my 1,000 + photos (ah! digital photography, ain't it great?) and now am ready to post them as they represent this year's experiences great and small.

The first I'd like to celebrate is the Log Cabin Café (always with the accent acute on the "e"!) in the map-dot town of Silver Gate, Montana. Silver Gate is immediately adjacent to Yellowstone National Park's northeast entrance, so it's the first non-Park area one comes to when exiting in that direction. Silver Gate also resides in the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness at the foot of the Beartooth and Chief Joseph scenic by-ways. 

One of Yellowstone richest wildlife-watching and scenic areas is the corridor along the northeast entrance road (U.S. 212) which means that most often when I've gone to Silver Gate, it's before (if I'm staying outside of the park in or beyond Silver Gate in it's "twin" town of Cooke City down the road about 3 miles) or after (if I'm staying in the park) hours of hiking or wildlife-watching in that corridor. In either case, it means I'm hungry! My very first stop is always the Log Cabin Café, where I know the atmosphere is inviting and the good is very good. 

Somehow, in that remote location (it's a very long drive from, say, the nearest airport or railroad freight depot) they always manage to have fresh ingredients and fresh ideas of how to prepare them. This year KLK and I stopped one day for a yummy lunch and learned that they are celebrating 75 continuous years of operation. We picked up a flyer which tells us: "The Log Cabin has had only four owners since it was built. It is now owned by life-long, year-round Silver Gate residents Jay Schifferdecker and Laurie Hinck. Along with [their] parents, Larry and Vranna Sue, [they] bought the beloved Log Cabin from Kay and Cecil King who ran it for 30 years."

Here are some interior shots - aside from the wonderful classy and reasonably priced food, don't you want to go in and sit down to take it all in?

May the Log Cabin Café continue and bring prosperity to its owners for another 75 years! Congratulations!

I might  add, that area is the best in the Yellowstone region to look for moose. This guy, just sprouting his spring antlers, was right behind the church (2009 visit):

And this is the setting (Amphitheater Peak) under which The Log Cabin and the moose reside: