Blogmo

This is me today: mellow with a touch of melancholy.

Sunset at Russell, Bay of Islands

Io Crossing Jupiter

Volcanic Io hangs in front of its parent planet, Jupiter. This innermost of the Galilean moons is roughly the same size as our Moon, meaning that fours Earths would easily fit in frame.

– Fiordland National Park, New Zealand

Do I love New Zealand too much? Every time I ask myself this, I recall my visit to NZ’s great treasure, Fiordland National Park in 2005, and the thought runs howling right out the door.

My fervor was born of a two-year stint on NZ’s North Island. A vacation 10 years later spanning both North and South Islands cemented the deal. Why? It is simple: sheer, mind-blowing grandeur. The beauty of NZ is simply undeniable, and nothing exemplifies it better than Fiordland’s world-renowned Milford Track. You need to go there.

Often described as “the finest walk in the world”, the 54 km (33 mile) Milford Track wends its way through a remote U-shaped valley carved eons before by a hungry glacier, up over a steep mountain saddle, before descending into another glacial valley until terminating at the equally famous Milford Sound*. The route is stuffed to the brim with rainforest, rivers, lakes, waterfalls, podocarp and beech forests, and even alpine meadows. And rain. Buckets of it. This region of NZ averages 7 meters of rain annually. That’s 23 feet every year. Pack a poncho!

In 2005, I took a cruise on Milford Sound, yet I missed out on the Track, much to my chagrin. The advance booking and extensive preparation required to reserve a spot deterred me. Not next time. I have seen firsthand what this magical place has to offer.

So visit Milford Track. NZ is the place to go when you need to just be, and the Track is the best of NZ. I will go before there I die. You should too.

*Amazing its own right, Rudyard Kipling labeled Milford Sound the eighth wonder of the world. He wasn’t kidding.

Labor Day in Utah means one thing for me: heading up splendid canyons to high mountain lakes graced with scattered stands of pine, Mother Nature gently reconnecting me to all that is green and good. That, and thowing elbows to stake my spot among the several thousand city dwellers who had the same idea. I consider them lemmings, every last one of them.

Still, Silver Lake and its Brighton environs atop Big Cottonwood Canyon rejuvenated my soul, despite the sweaty masses all about me. The air was clear and scented of pine trees. Tall granite peaks soared above in every direction. One man congratulated me and my lady companion on being “the first skinny people” he had seen on the trail thus far, not “fat like all the other Mormons.” I reflected that persecution of the Latter-day Saints is indeed far from over.

Orion Nebula in Infrared

The Spitzer Telescope gives us a new take on an old celestial favorite.

Yesterday, a freak thunderstorm barrelled through the Wasatch Front, smashing up south Provo in Utah County and East Millcreek in Salt Lake. The damage was horrific: trees toppled through homes and cars, airplanes at the Provo airport were tossed about like toys, and flashes of lightning made my work computer turn off all by itself.

What amazes about this storm was how its path of destruction travelled in narrowly confined areas. One street would look like a war zone, while the next block over would look as tranquil as a Norman Rockwell painting, minus Cub Scouts and those hip 1940′s fashions. (Now, don’t email me about the predictible nature of microbursts. Localized damage is their gig, I know. A fellow can still awe over Mother Nature’s tantrums, can he not?)

Saturn and Titan

The Cassini spacecraft captured this spectacular image of our solar system’s second largest satellite through the rings of Saturn.