new mexico

Thanks for the grounded reality, Tom. I always enjoy, appreciate and, respect your (usual) well-reasoned perspective. Even though I have absolutely no horses in this race, I too, thought, that - The guy was just a bit squeaky? (Both, in his initial post. And, his response.)

Apropos?:

How The Wolf Survived: 40 Years Of Los Lobos by Felix Contreras NPR.ORG Updated June 17, 2013 Drew Reynolds PHOTO Quote: "Chicano hippies playing mariachi music. That was my first impression of Los Lobos when I first saw the band back in the mid-1970s, before it had any albums out. By that time, Los Lobos had already been a garage-rock band, so it was in the midst of falling back on our parents' music - having discovered just how complex it was. These guys dug deep into rancheras, son jarochos and guapangos to find the sources of the music for themselves — and, by extension, other Baby Boomer Mexican-Americans who were calling themselves Chicanos. For their first independently released album in 1978, they played that folk music and called themselves Los Lobos del Este de Los Angeles. (See playlist, farther down.) The band was a staple at parties when I was in college. Then, in 1983, Los Lobos' first EP (...And a Time to Dance) fired a warning shot to rock music, suggesting impending change. Released a year later, Los Lobos' breakthrough album — How Will the Wolf Survive? — made it clear to everyone who heard it - That, loving The Rolling Stones, as much as Flaco Jimenez, was as natural as loving the, Stones and, say, Woody Guthrie. It felt as if they were writing music from my life: Los Lobos' Grammy-winning "Anselma" - reminds me of my aunts spinning me around the dance floor as a kid at family parties; I can smell my mom's coffee in the background of songs like "Saints Behind the Glass"; they bridged the gap between themselves and another passion of mine when they covered The Grateful Dead's "Bertha" - complete with Cajun accordion fills; and they made me proud when they made a hit out of "La Bamba" - an old Mexican folk song that my dad played to my brothers and me when we were kids (not to mention the countless times I played it as a teenager in a Mexican wedding band). It's mind-boggling to think that the group is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year. (2012) In our chat during this Guest DJ discussion, band members Louie Perez and Steve Berlin explain that the exact date is lost to history - but say they can trace their roots back to the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We take time to dig deep into the DNA of Los Lobos by asking Perez and Berlin to bring in their own favorite tracks — mariachi, R&B, soul, blues. If we'd had more time, we'd have heard bluegrass, blues and folk music from both sides of the U.S./Mexico border. In other words, it's just another day of listening to the sound of Chicano life in America. We have Los Lobos to thank for bringing it all together in vital, enriching music. Here's to the next 40 years. " from this: http://www.npr.org/2012/11/29/166170472/how-the-wolf-survived-40-years-of-los-lobos from this: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_Will_the_Wolf_Survive Quote: In 1983, the band released an extended play entitled ...And a Time to Dance, which was well received by critics - but only sold about 50,000 copies. However, the sales of the EP earned the group enough money to purchase a Dodge van - enabling the band to tour throughout the United States for the first time. The group began composing How Will the Wolf Survive? at the home of Pérez's brother-in-law - a time in which several songs, including "A Matter of Time", were written. Pérez explained, "We'd sit down with a guitar, a tape recorder and a jar of Taster's Choice - and we were coffee achievers all afternoon." The album's title and the title song were inspired by a National Geographic article - entitled "Where Can the Wolf Survive" - which the band members related to their own struggle to gain success in the United States - while maintaining their Mexican roots. Drummer Louie Pérez recalled, "It was like our group, our story: What is this beast, this animal that the record companies can't figure out? Will we be given the opportunity to make it or not?" Playlist index ↓ Los Lobos - Full Concert - 03/26/87 - Ritz (OFFICIAL) - Duration: 57:59 (cued set-list on YT page) Los Lobos on 'Thicke of the Night' - 2 song playlist on YT - - - - - - - - "(The harpist is) Angel Abundez." (quote from David Hidalgo) The 2, above - are from this: Shout Factory "KIKO" 16 song playlist on You Tube - - - - - - - - Playlist index ↓ - - - - - - - (Humble, humble, humble...) The 2 above, from this 13 song YT Playlist: Popular Videos - eTown & Los Lobos And, for those who might not be familiar? ... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richie_Furay: American singer, songwriter, and Rock & Roll Hall of Fame member who is best known for forming the band 'Buffalo Springfield' - with Stephen Stills, Neil Young, Bruce Palmer, and Dewey Martin. #BuffaloSpringfield - YouTube Channel And, 'Poco' with Jim Messina, Rusty Young, George Grantham and Randy Meisner. #Poco - You Tube Channel - - - - - - - - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_Lobos_del_Este_de_Los_Angeles Playlist index ↓ Playlist index ↓ - - - - - - - - "The Ride is the 11th album by Los Lobos. It features numerous guest musicians. The album contains new material and also new versions of earlier Los Lobos songs. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ride_Los_Lobos_album Playlist index ↓ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Uploaded on Aug 27, 2008 Aired on PBS in 1984. Playlist index ↓ - - - - - - - - The following text from: http://nightflight.com/exclusive-book-excerpt-the-missing-man-who-co-founded-los-lobos/ "Exclusive Book Excerpt: The Missing Man who Founded Los Lobos" By Chris Morris on September 4, 2015 My new book Los Lobos: Dream in Blue will be published by the University of Texas Press on Sept. 8, 2015. It’s the first full-length critical history of the East Los Angeles band. Three-time Grammy Award winners and Latin Grammys Lifetime Achievement Award honorees - the group will receive another Lifetime Achievement acknowledgement - at the Americana Music Awards in Nashville on Sept. 16, 2015. This exclusive Night Flight excerpt from the book takes a look at the founding of the band - in their original early-‘70s incarnation as the acoustic folk unit Los Lobos del Este de Los Angeles. Fans will recognize most of the players – Cesar Rosas, Louie Pérez, Conrad Lozano, and David Hidalgo. But only longtime Lobos associates will be able to identify the fifth player - who takes most of the lead vocals and serves as the MC at the 28-minute-long show - (See You Tube, at end of article.) recorded at East Los Angeles College in 1975 for the public TV series “La Cultura.” In those days, he was known as Frank Gonzáles - and he co-founded Los Lobos and served as the group’s original musical director. His crucial role in the formation of the band has been largely ignored. This passage from my book looks at the beginnings of Los Lobos in an East L.A. living room. One bright summer afternoon in 1973, fate strolled by Cesar Rosas’ front door. “I was hanging out in my garage,” Rosas says - “and all of a sudden midday one day I saw this guy walking right in front of my house on the sidewalk. He was walking around playing the mandolin. He was going to the store. He was passing by. He looked inside the garage. We looked and kind of waved… I said, ‘What are you up to?’ He said, ‘Well, I’m going to Pomona College.’ I said, ‘I see you play mandolin and all that.’ He was getting into Mexican music, playing traditional music.” The rotund, mandolin-strumming 20-year-old with a drooping bandito mustache was named Frank González - and he lived two doors down the street from Rosas. Like the rest of his soon-to-be band mates, González was raised in East L.A. His father had emigrated from Mexico at the age of 4, returned to his home country at the age of 15 - and came back to Los Angeles with a young bride. The last of seven children and known as Frank from boyhood, he grew up in a musical household. “My father had been a professional singer, a trained singer,” González recalls. “I have posters him doing some zarzuela [Spanish opera] at theaters in downtown L.A. during the ‘40s. He was a tenor.” His brothers both played guitar, and his four sisters sang. He began playing autoharp and harmonica in the first grade, and started formal training on trombone in third grade. After developing an allergy to the metal in his mouthpiece, he took up the upright bass, which he played throughout junior high. At Garfield High School, he met another budding bassist, Conrad Lozano. Gonzáles formed his first band, Boojum Snark – its name drawn from a backwoods spirit mentioned in a blood-brother oath on ‘The Andy Griffith Show’ – with another Garfield student, his longtime friend David Hidalgo. The guitarist notes that even as a youth, years before Rosas saw him playing on the street, Gonzáles favored performing alfresco. “We had met in elementary school,” Hidalgo recalls. “He lived about five or six blocks away from where I lived. Around fifth or sixth grade, [I saw him] walking down the street with his guitar or something… I went over to his pad one day, and he was sitting in his Boy Scout uniform, playing Bob Dylan songs.” Like Hidalgo’s other early bands, Boojum Snark never emerged from the garage. González graduated from Garfield in 1971 and enrolled in Pomona College in Claremont - then something of a hotbed for the Chicano arts, to study music and musicology. Always eclectic in his tastes, he played country music (he had become facile on the Dobro) - performed classical works, and worked as a bassist with such avant garde jazz lions as saxophonist David Murray. But, he says, “Everything that I was doing, it was always everybody else’s [music].” His musical revelation arrived via his classmate and roommate Gustavo Gil, a Colombia-born pianist - whose father had an extensive collection of Colombian and Mexican folk music. He became entranced by a folk dance style popular in the country’s northern provinces. “The first time I started getting into a huapango and actually playing it,” González says, “it was like in The Wizard of Oz - when it goes from black-and-white to color. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I was in a whole different world, and it just blew me away. Especially when I realized that I could sing it and I could play it.” González’s enthusiasm for Mexican folk styles burgeoned rapidly. He began acquiring information on the music’s instrumentation from Charles Chase at the Claremont Folk Music Center. In 1972, González and Gil journeyed to Mexico City and Veracruz. “That was the first time I saw jarocho music [the regional style of Veracruz] played live. It really blew me away,” he says. “It was like Mexican bebop, and I loved bebop.” In mid-1973, González says without elaboration, “it was a very, very dark time for me,” - so he took a medical leave from Pomona College. It was at just that point that he encountered Cesar Rosas. The two young musicians quickly discovered they both had an affinity for Mexican folk music - and González was surprised by the somewhat younger musician’s knowledge of the repertoire. “I invited him over to the house, and we got to know each other,” Rosas says. “He was playing the mandolin, and he played me a riff from a song. He said, ‘Do you know this song?’ - I said, ‘Yeah, I know that song.’ I was a rural Mexican guy — I knew all about all the folk songs. I said, ‘Yeah, I grew up with that. I know what that song is.’ I sang it to him a little bit. He was slightly impressed. I said, ‘That’s what I listen to every morning when I get up to go to school, on the radio.’ So we were talking the same language. “It didn’t take too long for us to start talking about music and sharing music. He was on vacation and I was on vacation. The next day he invited me over for a beer, and I took over my Spanish guitar. We started jamming together on traditional songs. We were just learning the songs. Of course I grew up with them, but I really didn’t know how to play them. Playing that type of music requires a certain type of strum. It’s the huapango rhythm – it’s the way you strum the guitar for a lot of those old songs. He kind of knew how to play the rhythm, and he showed me how to play it. Before you know it, he and I were playing two or three songs together. There we were, singing and harmonizing and playing guitar, and he was playing the mandolin parts. We’d make it to the middle of the song, and then it’d fall apart. Then we’d start it again.” Rosas and González began getting together regularly - in an attempt to teach themselves the fundamentals of the Mexican folk styles. There was a great seriousness of intent on González’s part. “I was very active in the Chicano movement,” he says. “One of the things that struck me as kinda weird was, everybody was [saying] ‘Chicano power’ - but then they’d go listen to Santana or Tito Puente, and that was being Chicano. We were surrounded by Mexican music, but we didn’t want to identify with that. That was [for] the wetbacks, that was not us, right?…There was only two ways we were allowed to identify. You could play white rock ‘n’ roll, or oldies, stuff like that, East L.A.-type music - or if you wanted to be [singing in] Spanish, you had to be dressed up in your monkey suit and be a mariachi. The young kids were being told what to do by a coterie of mainly white guys, telling them how to play Mexican music. Mariachi music was acceptable, because that was middle class. But the norteño stuff, that wasn’t cool. The tejano stuff, that was not cool.” González and Rosas quickly recruited their mutual friend David Hidalgo and his close buddy Louie Pérez to join them. With bassist Richard Escalante, the newly christened Los Lobos del Este de Los Angeles (“The Wolves of East L.A.”) - made their debut in late 1973 at a VFW hall in Watts. In early 1974, Conrad Lozano – then bassist in the popular East Side band Tierra – replaced his pal Escalante in the lineup. By 1975, Los Lobos del Este de Los Angeles had attained local renown in their home community - playing traditional Mexican folk music at parties, college shows, and weddings. But tensions developed between the hard-drinking taskmaster González and the other members of the group. After a blowout argument at the band’s rehearsal space in late 1976, he abruptly exited the group - which decided to continue on as a quartet. They issued their self-released folk debut LP Just Another Band From East L.A. in early 1978. González – who professionally adopted his given name, Francisco — has led a busy musical career in the intervening years. For a time he was musical director for El Teatro Campesino - the theater company led by director Luis Valdez (whose 1987 film La Bamba would rocket Los Lobos to international stardom). A master of the Veracruz harp, González released a beautiful album of solo performances, The Gift (El Regalo), in 2009. The collection was produced by bassist Harvey Brooks - noted for his work on Bob Dylan’s ‘60s releases and as a founding member of Mike Bloomfield’s “American music band,” the Electric Flag. Based in Tucson today, González is a frequent collaborator with Michael Ronstadt, brother of Linda Ronstadt - who fronts the traditional music band Ronstadt Generations. He is also collaborating on the autobiography of Mexican jarocho harpist Mario Barradas Murcia. Editor’s note: Gates of Gold, the first Los Lobos studio album in five years, will be released Sept. 25, 2015 by 429 Records. About Chris Morris Quote: "Chris Morris' critical biography Los Lobos: Dream in Blue was just published by University of Texas Press. He also recently contributed a chapter to X bassist-vocalist John Doe’s book about L.A. punk, Under the Big Black Sun - which is scheduled for publication on April 26, 2016" - - - - - - - - Chris Morris quote: "This little-viewed YouTube clip is the earliest known footage of the group from that era." (Heads up: Only 28 minutes long. Ends @ credit roll.) "Los Lobos - Dream in Blue" - GOOGLE BOOK - online, readable preview (some pages are omitted) : https://books.google.com/books?id=mDQKCgAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false Amazon The song, from which they get the title of the book: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_Lobos #Los Lobos Channel - You Tube (This channel was generated automatically by YouTube's video discovery system.) Los Lobos Channel - You Tube (Official Band Channel.) (FWIW - 2012 live (video) version of "Tears of God" on home page.) Popular Videos - 'Cesar Rosas' - You Tube Playlist Popular Videos - David Hidalgo - You Tube Playlist - - - - - - - - - From Amazon: "Los Lobos - Live At The Fillmore" Quote: It took a mere 30 years for Los Lobos to produce their first DVD, and the legendary East Los Angeles band has done it right with Live at the Fillmore. Of course, "legendary" is sometimes synonymous with "really good, but not so well known" - as guitarist Cesar Rosas wryly observes in the brief documentary accompanying this generous show - (21 songs, drawn from their entire recording career, in a little less than two hours) - many acts who once opened for Los Lobos, like Dwight Yoakam, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and Melissa Etheridge - went on to eclipse them in sales and popularity. But that takes nothing away from the considerable power of this performance, which finds the now-seven-piece band rocking with a vengeance. Longtime drummer Louie Perez plays guitar for the most part, joining Rosas and David Hidalgo in a three-guitar front line, and songs like "The Big Ranch," "I Walk Alone," and the crunching "Charmed" - find Los Lobos coming on like a combination of Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Brothers - and many of the artists who once played at San Francisco's Fillmore Auditorium - from Cream and Jimi Hendrix to the Grateful Dead and Santana. Of course, they can play pretty much any other style as well, including Cuban jazz ("Maricela") - Mexican-cum-zydeco ("How Much Can I Do?") and even mariachi-tinged reggae ("Maria Christina") - and that's to say nothing of unclassifiable fare like "Kiko and the Lavender Moon," - still one of the best of Los Lobos's many superb original songs. Recorded in July 2004, Los Lobos: Live at the Fillmore is a fine representation of one of America's best bands. As Rosas observes backstage, "We love you, man. Don't ever shave." --Sam Graham A CD of the concert is also available. http://www.amazon.com/Los-Lobos-Live-The-Fillmore/dp/B0006693YC

Uploaded by #inspirasjonstryn facebook.com/inspirasjonstryn February 19, 2016 Quote: "Benedicte Alstveit Årsland was one of 4 artists that were invited to Stryn in Norway. The inspiration they found here led to unique art projects!" The film was shot using the RED Epic Dragon camera and Canon EF lenses. The film is shot in 6k resolution and mastered in 4k. Lenses used(sort in chronological order, by which ones were most used): Canon EF 24-105mm f/4L IS Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS Canon EF 35mm f/1.4L For the tracking-shots we used the DJI Ronin Gimbal and as for the drone shots we used the DJI Phantom 2. The film is edited in FCP X and it is graded in DaVinci Resolve using the KinoLUT from Cineplus. The microphones used in this recording are all Schoeps – MK22 Open Cardioid for close miking and MK21 Wide Cardioid for ambience miking. Sound: Bjarne Dankel https://m.facebook.com/bjarnedankel

Any former projectionists here? Uploaded by Andrew Walker Thursday, January 14, 2016 Quote: I was lucky enough to be one of the projectionists to work on the 70mm roadshow for "The Hateful Eight" - and this is what I captured during the 59 showings the film over the course of 15 days. The whole thing was quite an experience and it made me appreciate film all over again. Shot with a Nikon D810 using the Kessler TLS system and a Second Shooter. Music Artist: Ennio Morricone Track: L'estasi dell'oro (The Ecstasy of Gold) Album: The Good The Bad and The Ugly

- - - - - Uploaded by #inspirasjonstryn February 14, 2016 Quote: "By creating mesmerizing designs in the snow just by walking in a pair of snowshoes - the British artist Simon Beck takes hiking in the mountains to a whole other level. Simon Beck was one of 4 artists that were invited to Stryn in Norway. The inspiration they found here led to unique art projects! #inspirasjonstryn facebook.com/inspirasjonstryn from: http://snowart.gallery/ Google Images: Simon Beck Snow Artist (more examples)

Vimeo: Uploaded by Tony Zhou Tuesday, February 23, 2016 Quote: "How do you film a conversation? Most likely, you’re going to block the actors, set up the camera, and do shot/reverse shot. But where do you put the camera? What lens do you use? And how do you cut back and forth? Today, I consider the Coen brothers - Joel & Ethan - and see how these choices lend a particular feel to their version of shot/reverse shot."

'Atlas' has left the building ? Published on Feb 23, 2016 A new version of Atlas, designed to operate outdoors and inside buildings. It is specialized for mobile manipulation. It is electrically powered and hydraulically actuated. It uses sensors in its body and legs to balance and LIDAR and stereo sensors in its head to avoid obstacles - assess the terrain, help with navigation and manipulate objects. This version of Atlas is about 5' 9" tall (about a head shorter than the DRC Atlas) and weighs 180 lbs. https://www.youtube.com/user/BostonDynamics/videos

Americana is contemporary music that incorporates elements of various American roots-music styles - including country, roots-rock, folk, bluegrass, R&B and blues - Resulting in a distinctive roots-oriented sound that lives in a world apart from the pure forms of the genres - upon which it may draw. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Americana_music Although, I'm sure, most of you are already familiar with her? ... What follows is a profile of one such 'Americana' musician - Rhiannon Giddens. Some of her performances; her influences; her roots: (Please note: While I can appreciate the fact, that - She might be pitchy @ times?- Which to some is non-negotiable? I was impressed by the sum of the whole - Which, to me, far out-weighed just the few of the negatives. YMMV) PERFORMANCES: (Including a brief intro.) (Note: Selection #3, features Rhiannon's sister, Lalenja, on backing vocals.) Playlist index ↓ FWIW ... Showtime Concert: "Another Day, Another Time" - You Tube - Preview only. Google Search Results https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhiannon_Giddens INFLUENCES: (Brief commentaries, each followed by the exemplar.) Playlist index (Useful tool to quickly cue to next selection?) (Note: #2 features Elizabeth Cotten's 12 year old Granddaughter, singing.) ↓ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Cotten https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patsy_Cline https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethel_Waters https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Ritchie https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolly_Parton https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geeshie_Wiley https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sister_Rosetta_Tharpe https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florence_Quivar Continuing . . . "INFLUENCES" Rhiannon Giddens' commentary on her own version of the traditional song: "Black is the Color" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Is_the_Colour_Of_My_True_Love's_Hair The following quote is from Rhiannon Giddens' Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RhiannonGiddensMusic/posts/10152995651337860 (re: "Black is the Color") "This traditional ballad has been covered by many, including Joan Baez and Nina Simone - but I have always loved best Sheila Kay Adams' version. She is a ballad singer from western North Carolina and is a consummate interpreter of songs. I always thought her way was different and more soulful - I took that as a jumping off point, and pushed it further - and Jon Batiste gives it wings with his righteous melodica playing. I also never really understood what was going on in the original ballad, but loved the passion it hinted at. So I rewrote all but the last verse (using an old phrase here and there) and it turned into a song about my husband; he's a ginger but other than that it's pretty accurate." -- RG Sheila Kay Adams: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheila_Kay_Adams Listen to Sheila Kay Adams' version - "Black is the Color" (source: Audio Cassette.) Quote: Sheila Kay Adams sings to a ballad singing class at Warren Wilson College. Sheila learned these ballads from her relatives, primarily from her great-aunt, Dellie Chandler Norton. This song she learned from Evelyn Ramsey. Sheila is from Madison County, North Carolina. 'Digital Library of Appalachia' - Warren Wilson College http://dla.acaweb.org/cdm/singleitem/collection/Warren/id/1664/rec/1 (Apologies for being obvious, but ...) Nina Simone and, Joan Baez's, renditions of, 'Black is the Color:' Playlist index ↓ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nina_Simone https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_Baez A true rabbit hole... There are over 25 pages of You Tubes search results (of various, different, offerings of) - "Black is the Color" ! https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=black+is+the+color&page=26 Carolina Chocolate Drops https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carolina_Chocolate_Drops . . . has received international acclaim for their new interpretations of traditional folk music - and for drawing attention to the contributions of African Americans to folk and popular music. (The following is meant only as, a select representation, of their larger body of work.) Playlist index (Note: Although the songs here are, apparently, repeated? They are, IMO, just varied enough? - in each presentation.) ↓ ROOTS Playlist index ↓ The following is cued, for specific, 'historical' information (i.e. the 'Roots' context,) within the performance: Continuing . . . "Roots:" (as an example) Forever identified with the famed Harlem Globetrotters as the recording they played during pre-game warm-up - and featuring "Brother Bones" Freeman Davis playing his percussive 'knuckle bones' : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bones_instrument The bones are a musical instrument (more specifically, a folk instrument) which, at the simplest - consists of a pair of animal bones - or pieces of wood or a similar material. Sections of large rib bones and lower leg bones are the most commonly used true bones - although wooden sticks shaped like the earlier true bones are now more often used. If metal spoons are used instead, as is common in the United States, this is called "playing the spoons". The technique probably arrived in the U.S. via Irish and other European immigrants - and has a history stretching back to ancient China, Egypt, Greece, and Rome. The Bone Player by William Sidney Mount, 1856: Fragment of a Kylix, Greek, 510-500 BCE, Terracotta, red-figure technique A former founding member of 'CCDs' - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carolina_Chocolate_Drops#Members Continuing . . . "Roots:" Playlist index (Note: Selection #9, features Rhiannon's sister - Lalenja Giddens Harrington - A capella.) ↓ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genuine_Negro_Jig https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odetta Joe Thompson - NYTimes Obituary The New Basement Tapes (Rhiannon Giddens - select) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lost_on_the_River:_The_New_Basement_Tapes Playlist index ↓ Re: 'The New Basement Tapes Project'… A Rhiannon Giddens quote - (Celebrate Brooklyn - Brooklyn NY - July 18 2015) "When I was surrounded by amps, electric guitars, electric basses - And, you know, all the wonderful views on that project - And, I was standing there with my banjos, my fiddles, and my ovaries - And I went "Ya Know what? . . . It's time for a hoedown' - So, it's gonna be a hoedown now. Thank you so much - It's been an absolute pleasure…" from this badge-holders footage - - only worth watching the You Tube, to hear her actual quote, at the head: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cgc9EDmU3as #Rhiannon Giddens Channel - You Tube Page #Carolina Chocolate Drops Channel - You Tube Page #The New Basement Tapes Channel - You Tube Page And, finally? . . . Rhiannon Giddens' Tour Dates - Facebook page .

Published on Nov 19, 2015 Journey through the trailblazing era when the music of ordinary Americans was recorded for the very first time. Published on Apr 7, 2015 American Epic, three-part historical documentary and The American Epic Sessions - a feature-length recording studio film celebrating the birth of electrical sound recording in the mid 1920's - will air in early 2016 on PBS and BBC Arena. Official Site: http://www.americanepic.com Like American Epic on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/americanepic Follow @AmericanEpic on Twitter: https://twitter.com/americanepic Follow @AmericanEpic on Instagram: http://instagram.com/americanepic Executive produced by T Bone Burnett, Robert Redford and Jack White. Directed by Bernard MacMahon Created and produced by Allison McGourty, Duke Erikson and Bernard MacMahon Published on Oct 13, 2015 Quote: " Director Bernard MacMahon and producer Allison McGourty discuss their film about the Western Electric amplifier - a machine that pioneered sound recording. They are joined by singer-songwriter Bettye Lavette, one of a host of stellar performers invited to record a track for the film using the restored machine. This film is a haunting collision of past and present, presided over by the high priests of the great tradition of American music - Jack White and T Bone Burnett, who also executive produced with Robert Redford. Long before digital file sharing, MP3, compact discs, tape and vinyl, a machine was forged from ingenuity. The Western Electric amplifier and Scully recording lathe, a marvel of analogue engineering operated by a weight and pulleys - pioneered the recording of American music. In an old Hollywood studio, one has been lovingly reassembled. In it, White gathers an extraordinary convocation of musical superstars - all keen to cut a record in the unforgiving three minutes the recording system provides. Featuring live performances from Elton John, Nas, Willie Nelson, Alabama Shakes, Steve Martin, Ana Gabriel - Merle Haggard, Taj Mahal and many more. "

Thanks for sharing, Christian! - I thoroughly enjoyed the whimsy of "The Belves." Looks like they had a lot of fun doing it! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I just caught this remarkable program, tonight: (As of this posting, AFAIK - There is only a preview available, online - Which, I have embedded, below...) http://www.pbs.org/program/johnny-cashs-bitter-tears/ About the Program: Based on Antonino D'Ambrosio's book "A Heartbeat and a Guitar: Johnny Cash and the Making of Bitter Tears," this film tells the story behind Cash's lost Native American-themed concept album and his unique collaboration with folk artist Peter Lafarge. With the still largely unknown recording, Cash placed himself in the middle of the fervent social upheavals gripping the nation in the mid-1960s. Facing censorship and an angry backlash from radio stations, DJs and fans for speaking out on behalf of Native people, Cash decided to fight back. The film also chronicles the reimagining of Cash's highly controversial 1964 record on its 50th anniversary, as recorded at Nashville's historic Sound Emporium Studios by such artists as Kris Kristofferson, Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Norman Blake, Nancy Blake, Rhiannon Giddens, Gillian Welch, Dave Rawlings and The Milk Carton Kids, working with album producer Joe Henry and legendary studio musicians Dennis Crouch, Patrick Warren and Jay Bellerose. Here are the recordings: (All are in a playlist index format.) Menu icon in upper left corner. Some more background on this first selection: Rolling Stone Mag - Aug 2014 Americana Artists Dry Johnny Cash's 'Bitter Tears': Hear Gillian Welch's Poignant Cover Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/americana-artists-pay-tribute-to-johnny-cashs-bitter-tears-hear-gillian-welchs-poignant-track-20140819#ixzz40jihlYYD LA Times: Aug 2014: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/music/la-et-ms-bitter-tears-johnny-cash-20140820-story.html https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gillian_Welch On iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/look-again-to-wind-johnny/id893667709 On Amazon (Opens in the 'review' section) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bitter_Tears:_Ballads_of_the_American_Indian #JohnnyCash Peter La Farge was a New York-based folksinger and songwriter of the 1950s and 1960s. He is known best for his affiliations with Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_La_Farge #Peter LaFarge - You Tube Channel - Courtesy of Smithsonian Folkways Recordings (Auto-generated by the You Tube video discovery system - More info: https://support.google.com/youtube/answer/2579942) Here are some excerpts from the 2016 film, presented as pre-broadcast teasers: (Again, playlist index. FYI - #2 - The Bill Miller video, does play.) And, finally - "Ira Hayes" . . . Ira Hamilton Hayes was a Pima Native American - And a United States Marine - Who was one of the six flag raisers - Immortalized in the iconic photograph - Of the flag raising on Iwo Jima during World War II. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ira_Hayes Hayes is pictured to the far left

full album: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdM--on9N1CqCBQ6nSsjjMlwDFNqG2VSB https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brothers_and_Sisters_%28album%29

This photo, taken by Chester Sheard, was used as the album cover Full album: https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=PLWCJOLJ9si2knEgvTTPusOTu8IIrXT0DE&v=TsI1KLEkJ0c https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Live_in_Cook_County_Jail #BBKING

continuing from above posts: Published on Feb 12, 2016 "Is what we have just realized yesterday about the gravitational waves similar to, for example, discovering the structure of DNA? Is it that big?" Theoretical physicist Brian Greene, astrophysicist Janna Levin, New York Times reporter Dennis Overbye, and Walter Isaacson, author of "Einstein: His Life and Universe," explain the significance of the discovery of gravitational waves. - - - - "A great day for humanity" Brian Greene on gravitational waves (Feb. 12, 2016)

Continuing from the article above:

I found this to be a fascinating read ... (From the 'New Yorker Magazine,' online.) Gravitational Waves Exist: The Inside Story of How Scientists Finally Found Them February 11, 2016 By Nicola Twilley http://www.newyorker.com/tech/elements/gravitational-waves-exist-heres-how-scientists-finally-found-them And, from the New York Times:

Wall writings on Apollo 11 command module revealed 11 February 2016 By Jane O'Brien BBC News, Washington The crew of Apollo 11 Image copyright Getty Images Marking time has been a human obsession ever since the beginning of time itself. From the first rudimentary cave markings to wall planners, desk diaries and computerized charts - calendars have always been with us. Now scientists at the Smithsonian Institution have rediscovered what may be the first calendar created in space. An ambitious project is underway to map a 3D model of the Apollo 11 Command Module Columbia - the only surviving part of the first manned mission to land on the Moon. Few people have seen inside the capsule - since NASA transferred it to the National Air and Space Museum, Washington, in 1970. But following extensive digital scans and high resolution photography, a number of markings have come to light - including a calendar drawn onto the walls. "It's a bit of a puzzle," says curator Allan Needell. The calendar consists of a rectangle divided into boxes identified by the first letters of the days of the week. It begins on 16 July - the launch date of the 1969 mission - and ends on 24 July - when the crew returned to Earth and landed in the Pacific Ocean. It could only have been drawn by one of the three astronauts - Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin or Michael Collins. All the boxes, except for 24 July, are crossed out, says Needell, as if somebody was literally counting the days. "When you think about it, they didn't have a sunset or sunlight. They had a clock which showed what's called Mission Elapsed Time. But once it gets past the first 24 hours it doesn't translate very well." A calendar discovered during the 3-d scan of the Apollo 11 module He believes the calendar was probably created by Michael Collins - who stayed in the Command Module while the other two landed on the Moon. "He would have been the loneliest man in the universe - because whenever he passed behind the Moon he couldn't talk to anyone else." "There was no radio contact or anything." "One of the things he may have done in that time was written the calendar on the wall." "It's protected with plastic sheeting and taped over with duct tape." "My imagination tells me that when Mission Elapsed Time showed another day had gone by - he pulled up the corner of the duct tape, crossed off another day and pulled it back down." Neil Armstrong died in 2012, but Needell contacted Aldrin and Collins to ask them about the calendar. He says neither had any firm recollection of it, but Aldrin said it was most likely drawn by Collins. Other wall markings include a warning, "smelly waste," written under a closed locker - and there are various sets of numbers. Locker B2 was initially reserved for personal items - but this message indicates that the contents changed during the flight Image copyright Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum "As they were going around the Moon they would have to have specific instructions - for when to fire the rockets, for how long and what thrust." "All those instructions were being transmitted to them and it was essential they got them right." "They wrote some of those numbers on the walls and the control panels." The astronauts' movements would have been restricted by cumbersome suits and weightlessness - and although they had notepads, Needell says it was probably easier to simply scribble instructions on the walls. He is now examining voice recordings and NASA logs - to piece together the exact time the markings would have been made. The Columbia Command Module was the astronauts' living quarters but never actually landed on the moon. The Service Module contained the propulsion system and the Lunar Module, nicknamed Eagle - was the craft used by Armstrong and Aldrin to reach the moon's surface. Following splashdown, astronaut Michael Collins crawled back into the command module to write this short note Image copyright Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum "These markings bring to life this static object that in some ways is just symbolic of going to the moon. It reveals physical details that enrich the written details, video and audio recordings we have. It adds another layer to the story," says Needell. He hopes that the new images and digital information will spark public interest - and generate additional information about Apollo 11 - One of the most important milestones in space exploration. http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-35508221

"A short film about of recalling the knowledge of long dead craftsmen. Over the course of three days, Danish kayak builder Anders Thygesen builds an Aleutian iqyax - by the shore of his local lake." ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleutian_kayak ) "He reflects on the process of learning these skills from masters whom he has never met. Shot and edited by Silje Ensby. Music by Pernille Meidell En kortdokumentar om å studere under læremestere som for lengst er borte. Med kroppen som måleredskap bygger Anders Thygesen en tradisjonell iqyax ved Eikeren i Buskerud, mens han reflekterer rundt prosessen ved å studere under læremestere han aldri har møtt." Listening to this on headphones made it more enjoyable, for me ... Nice atmos. Anders' narration is subdued. Music only at the very end.

Published on Feb 11, 2016 Gravitational waves -- ripples in the fabric of spacetime -- aren’t just an Einstein theory any more. A team of international scientists announced Thursday that they confirmed the waves’ existence - after recording feedback from a black hole collision a billion light-years from Earth. Hari Sreenivasan learns more from Dave Reitze of the California Institute of Technology. And, straight from the horses mouth - (The Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory) News release 11 February, 2016: Re: "We did it!" https://www.ligo.caltech.edu/news/ligo20160211

http://www.cnet.com/news/this-is-what-happens-when-you-swing-an-iphone-around-your-head-while-skiing/ A video of a man skiing down a mountain and apparently swinging an iPhone 6 around on a string mesmerizes YouTube. February 7, 2016 by Chris Matyszczyk When it comes to YouTube videos that fascinate many, it's rarely worth asking why. No, not why they fascinate, but why they were made in the first place. In the case of the latest video that's already moved almost a million people in 24 hours, what we have is a man skiing down a mountain. Certainly, his right arm seems to be constantly raised, as if he's lassoing a troubled member of the cattle community. There's also a piece of cable that he clutches at the beginning of the video. The effect of this so-called Centriphone is mesmerizing. I asked Vuignier if all he's doing is waving an iPhone on a cable around his head. He replied: "Yes, that's it." He explained that he used a custom-made 3-D printed rig. He had an Olloclip wide-angled lens and a 64GB iPhone 6 (space gray, if you're wondering). He used the Apple camera app at 240 fps and slowed it down by 10 percent. He admitted he'd tried a GoPro first, but the 120 fps wasn't enough to create the right effect. "The biggest challenge was to make the phone stable when skiing at reasonable speed," he said. "The turbulent wind caused by the forward motion of the skier made the phone spin uncontrollably." You might be thinking that Vuignier is a decent skier. On his Web site, it's revealed that he's "one of the most respected and iconic rider [sic] of his generation." It says he has a "calm nature" as well as a certain "virtuosity." But he's also a self-taught graphic designer and video editor. How might those editing skills have helped here? Naturally, one or two people will worry that he might have wrecked his iPhone 6 in the making of this oeuvre. Worry not, he reassures on YouTube. "No iPhones were harmed during the making of this video (I still use it everyday)." GoPro has been experiencing a touch of difficulty lately -- though a new licensing deal with Microsoft has boosted it a little. Perhaps, then, Vuignier's invention will be the next exciting means by which extremists will be able to film their activities. Just think of all those swinging iPhones at your local ski resort. What could possibly go wrong?

Published on Feb 5, 2016 100% shot with the iPhone 6 After almost two years of tinkering and tweaking I finally achieved the result I was looking for No iPhones were harmed during the making of this video (I still use it everyday)

Speaking of trekking the Outback... This caught the world's imagination, back then: May 1978: (You Tube: Published on Dec 15, 2014) In 1977, 27-year-old Robyn Davidson, along with her dog and four camels, embarked on a daring expedition - Across the barren, unforgiving terrain of the Australian Outback. Photographer Rick Smolan captured stunning images of the untouched landscape - And, the young woman's personal adventure. While Rick includes, what is, a compelling teaser for the feature-film (2013 - 'Harvey Weinstien, and Co.' ...) FWIW ... It was just an 'okay' movie. We were disappointed because, we thought it was going to be a great movie. IOHO's ... While Mandy Walker's cinematography was certainly illustrative - The direction, at times, was 'off' - Maybe, because of the jacked screenplay? And, even though, Mia W. did a commendable job - We thought the actor (playing Rob Smolan's character) was miscast. (Certainly, 'mis-directed'?) And, again, the screenplay seemed to play with the facts? (Sorry to spoil it for anyone?) Here's the book: If you can't find it at your local library? AMAZON (Opens w/ a Kindle preview) Here's the large-format picture book by Rick Smolan: AMAZON I'll also include the following ... Only, if you want to know a little more about, Robyn Davidson, herself? It starts off slow, and tentative - But, the (interesting) details surely come. The following is an easy-to-read extract of Robyn Davidson's original account - from this 2014 'UK Telegraph' article: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/starsandstories/10773102/Tracks-The-true-story-behind-the-film.html Tracks: The true story behind the film By Robyn Davidson 11:00AM BST 19 Apr 2014 Some string somewhere inside me is starting to unravel. It is an important string, the one that holds down panic. In the solitude of the desert night I feel the patter of rain on my sleeping bag – too light to lay the dust, too heavy for normal sleep. Sometime before midnight I come fully awake, and I do not know where, or who, I am. Inside me I hear three different voices. The first says, ‘So this is it, you’ve finally lost it.’ The second voice urges, ‘Hold on, don’t let go. Be calm, lie down and fall asleep.’ The third voice is screaming. At dawn my dog, Diggity, licks me awake. The sky is cold and pitiless. My four camels stand hobbled nearby – welcome, familiar shapes. Instinctively I start the morning routine – boil the tea, pack the gear, saddle the camels – and head south once more. It is my 71st day of travel across Australia’s western desert. Slowly, as we get under way, the strings inside me knit together and I know who I am again. During the following four months on the trail the voices never returned, and in time I came to enjoy the silence and solitude of the desert. Australia’s arid western region, from the town of Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean coast, is a beautiful, haunting, but largely empty land. Dominated by the harsh, almost uninhabited Great Sandy and Gibson deserts, the region is known only to Australian Aborigines, a handful of white settlers, and the few travellers who motor across it. Why cross it by camel? I have no ready answer. On the other hand, why not? Australia is a vast country, and most of us who live there see only a small fraction of it. Beyond the roads, in the area known as the outback, camels are the perfect form of transport. One sees little by car, and horses would never survive the hardships of desert crossings. At the age of 25, I gave up my study of Japanese language and culture at university in Brisbane and moved to the town of Alice Springs. I planned an expedition alone from Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean, a distance of some 1,700 miles. Davidson was photographed by her occasional visitor Rick Smolan. For nearly a century, from the 1860s until recent times, camels were commonly used in the outback. The animals, imported from Afghanistan and India, proved highly successful until cars and trucks began to replace them in the 1920s. Many camels were then simply turned loose to roam the outback, where I was to find they can present problems for travellers. Camels are still trained in Alice Springs for tourist jaunts and for occasional sale to Australia’s zoos. Sallay Mahomet, an Australian-born Afghan and a veteran handler, agreed to teach me something about the art of camel training. I worked with Sallay nearly three months, for camels are not the easiest of beasts to train. To begin with, they can kill or injure you with a well-placed kick, and their bite is as painful as a horse’s. Patiently Sallay taught me to understand camel behaviour – how to feed, saddle, doctor and control the animals, the last by kindness, discipline and use of a noseline attached to a wooden peg inserted through the animal’s nostril. Camels are similar to dogs; a well-trained one answers best to its accustomed handler. For an expedition such as mine, it was essential that I did most of the training. Through part-time jobs, loans from friends, and finally with support from the National Geographic Society, I acquired the necessary equipment and four good camels: a mature, gelded male whom I named Dookie; a younger gelding, Bub; a female, Zeleika; and her calf, Goliath. Training and preparations took more than a year, but finally in early April 1977 I was ready to leave. On April 8 Sallay and my father – who had come from Brisbane to see me off – trucked me, the camels, and Diggity to Glen Helen Tourist Camp, 80 miles west of Alice Springs. From there I journeyed to nearby Redbank Gorge, pausing long enough to say goodbye to my friends and helpers from Alice, who had all gathered there. Then I was off for the west coast, alone except for the intermittent company of the photographer Rick Smolan. The route that Davidson took from Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean. She covered 1700 miles in nine months. DAY ONE That first full day on the trail was both exhilarating and terrifying. My initial stop was to be the Aborigine settlement of Areyonga, via an old abandoned track that wandered through dry, stony creek beds and gullies and often simply disappeared. A dozen times during the day I was struck by the chilling thought, ‘Am I lost?’ It was to become an all too familiar question in the months ahead. The emotional bond between Davidson and her camels was strengthened on the trip - although they were not above trying to steal her dinner. PHOTO: Rick Smolan At sundown I camped beside the track and estimated my progress: 20 miles. Not bad for the first day – only some 1,680 left to go. After hobbling the camels to graze, I built a brushwood fire and cooked a dinner of tinned stew. The blaze was welcome, for night-time temperatures in the desert can drop to below freezing during Australia’s autumn and winter seasons. Finally I slid into my sleeping bag under an extra blanket or two and spent most of the night alternately dozing and wondering if I would ever see my camels again. But the occasional sound of their bells was reassuring, and at last I drifted off. The next morning settled one worry; the camels seemed more scared than I was. I awoke to find them huddled as close as possible around the swag and Diggity snoring happily beneath the blankets. DAY FOUR In the afternoon we reached Areyonga, all slightly the worse for wear. My feet were blistered and my muscles were cramped. Diggity, too, was footsore and had to ride for a spell on Dookie’s back. Zeleika was a complete mess. Her hindquarters were weak, her nose was infected, and she had a huge lump in a vein leading to her udder. Bub was still uncertain about the whole thing. During those first days he had shied in terror not only at rabbits but even at rocks and leaves. Dookie was the only one without grumbles, he was having a great time. I suspect he had always wanted to travel. Davidson with her camels and Diggity the dog trekking towards the Olgas - 225 miles south-west of Alice Springs. PHOTO: Rick Smolan After four days of total solitude Areyonga came as a shock, though a pleasant one. A mile outside the settlement we were greeted by a welcoming throng of Aborigine children, shouting, giggling and begging for rides. Seemingly hundreds of small hands reached out to pat Diggity when she was allowed down from exile atop Dookie’s back, and there was endless tickling of camel legs. For three days I rested at Areyonga, worrying about Zeleika, Bub and Goliath. I wondered what the next 30-mile stretch to the homestead at Tempe Downs would do to us all. DAY EIGHT A few Aborigines accompanied us out of Areyonga for the first 10 miles towards Tempe Downs. Bidding me goodbye, my companions warned that the route over the mountains was an old one, unused for many years. My friends didn’t exaggerate. After 15 miles the mountain track occasionally began to peter out, and I spent hours sweating over maps and compass. I took a couple of wrong turns into a dead-end canyon and had to backtrack out. To complicate matters, Bub chose the mountains to throw an unforgettable fit. Shortly after a midday pause he decided to buck the entire 500lb of assorted swag, tucker and water drums off his back. As each article crashed to the ground, the more terrified Bub became and the harder he bucked. Finally he stood petrified, the dislodged saddle hanging under his belly and the items from the pack scattered for miles. Despite the setbacks, we made it to Tempe Downs in three days and marked our 100th mile from the starting point at Glen Helen. After a radio call to my friends at Areyonga, I filled my drinking-water bag with rainwater and set off for Ayers Rock, 150 miles to the south-west. We were entering sandhill country, an expanse of great motionless waves of reddish sand stretching mile after square mile ahead of us. Flies by the zillions engulfed us in dense clouds, covering every exposed square centimetre of human, dog or camel flesh. Although they didn’t bite, they crawled under eyelids, into ears and nostrils, and when they finally gave up at night, clouds of mosquitoes took over. The country itself was exquisite. Huge stands of desert oak lined the valleys among the hills and there were varieties of flowers, plants bearing strange seedpods, or adorned with what looked like feathers. Two bizarre residents of the sandhills intrigued me. One is a type of ant known as the inch ant, a monstrous thing nearly an inch long, with a very aggressive nature, eyes that stare into your own, and fangs that look like spanners. The other creature, whose name I do not know, is the most endearing little beetle I have ever met. He’s an unprepossessing chap to look at, and when he sees something coming towards him (I imagine that four camels, one human and a dog would be somewhat frightening), he buries his head in the sand, sticks his bottom in the air, and waits till you have either crushed him or missed. I always tried to miss, but Diggity and the camels… DAY 21 After 250 miles of travel from Glen Helen we reached Ayers Rock. Among the mass of tourists who fly or drive in to see the great natural wonder, I found Jenny Green, my friend from Alice Springs, who had come to meet me. We talked – or rather I talked – for four straight days. Having travelled for most of three weeks without company, I babbled on to Jenny like a madwoman, and, as is often the case, one makes oneself better by making others sick. Dear Jen. She flew home feeling depressed, and I rode out of Ayers Rock feeling on top of the world. The next 140 miles to the settlement of Docker River at the eastern edge of the Gibson desert went smoothly until the weather dealt us an almost fatal blow. So far I had not encountered rain and had wondered how the camels would take to the bright orange plastic raincoats I had designed and made to cover their packs. Just past the area known as Lasseter’s Country, heavy clouds began to bustle over the horizon. Down it came. Within an hour the track was a running river and we were all drenched, though the camels soon grew accustomed to the flapping of their raincoats. The camels soon grew accustomed to the raincoats Davidson made for them. PHOTO: Rick Smolan Camels have feet like bald tyres. They simply cannot cope with mud, and leading them over precariously slippery patches is painful and exhausting to both driver and animal. In the midst of the storm Dookie, who was last in line, suddenly sat down with a thud and snapped his noseline. I went back to him and tried to get him up. He refused. I shouted at him and had to kick the poor beast until he groaned to his feet. To my horror I saw that he was limping. It looked as if the trip was over. We made it to Docker River in painful stages. Each night in camp along the way I cut shrubbery for Dookie and brought it to him. I massaged his shoulder. I cuddled him, kissed him, shed tears and begged him to get better. To no avail. The thought of perhaps having to shoot my best camel gnawed away at me. Slowly, painfully, miserably, we limped into Docker River. Docker River is an Aborigine settlement, and the people were wonderfully hospitable. My few phrases of Pitjantjatjara were put to good use when I joined them in hunting, dancing, and gathering insects and wild plants for food. In the end it took Dookie a month to recover from what probably was a torn muscle in his shoulder. Dookie fell during one downpour and injured his shoulder, which took a month to recover. PHOTO: Rick Smolan DAY 69 At last Dookie had improved enough to travel, and that morning we set off westwards into the Gibson desert. Before we had covered many miles some wild camels suddenly appeared. I had been warned about these creatures by Sallay. ‘Make no mistake,’ Sallay had said, ‘wild bull camels can kill you when they’re in rut. They will try to take a female, and if you are in the way, you’ll be attacked. The only thing that will stop them is a rifle bullet. If the time should come, don’t hesitate.’ And now the time had come. Two hundred yards ahead stood three large wild bulls, obviously in season and aware of Zeleika. Faced with sudden danger, I found myself outside the situation, observing and talking to myself. Remember what Sallay said; take it a step at a time. One, tie up Bub, who will surely bolt, and sit him down. Two, carefully take the rifle from its scabbard. Three, load and cock. Four, aim, steady and fire. By now the bulls were only 30 yards away. One spurted a small cylinder of blood where his heart should be. All three came forward again. Zzzt. This time just at the back of the wounded one’s head. Zzzt. This time in the heart. I was sure of it. Zzzt. At last, in the head, and it was over. The other two bulls trundled off. Darkness came too quickly. I hobbled the camels and tried to keep them close. All night I heard the rumble of the two bulls circling the camp. At dawn one of them, a young and beautiful bull, stood 50 yards away in the scrub. I resolved not to shoot him unless he directly threatened me or my camels. I rounded up Dookie, Zeleika and Goliath, and turned for Bub, good old unreliable Bub. In a flash he was off with the new young bull, galloping despite his hobbles. For an hour I tried to catch him and couldn’t; the wild bull stayed too close to him. It was Bub or the bull. End of resolve. This time, even through tears, my aim was straight. DAY 71 It was on this night that I heard the voices and thought I was going mad – perhaps from a combination of worry over my water supply, the terrible monotony of sandhill country, and the effect of having had to shoot the wild bull camels. But the feeling of madness passed with sunrise and we journeyed on. My worry over water was real, for we were down to 10 gallons – less than one fifth of capacity. Somewhere ahead, according to my map, lay an artesian well with an abandoned windmill and storage tank. Supposing I missed the well, or the water tank was dry? The strain began to tell, and I sobbed as I walked, ‘God, please, the windmill must be over the next hill.’ Diggity licked my hand, whining, but I couldn’t stop. I raved at the hills. Then we crested the last one, and the land flattened out. A patch of green shone in the distance. Panic melted and I began to laugh, patting Diggity. No need to find the well and tank that night; they were there by the patch of green. The camels drank. Diggity drank. And I drank. Then I had a freezing, early-morning bath. It was good to be alive. Davidson and Diggity enjoying a rare swim. PHOTO: Rick Smolan DAY 75 This was a memorable day, for it brought the gift of Mr Eddie. He is a Pitjantjatjara man, and he arrived at my camp that evening with several carloads of Aborigines from the settlements of Wingelinna and Pipalyatjara. I served them all billies of tea, and we chatted. My guests spent the night, and next morning they decided that one of them should accompany me to Pipalyatjara, two days’ walk ahead. I kept a polite silence and simply started off – to be joined by Mr Eddie. I turned then, and we looked at each other. There was such humour, depth, life and knowledge in those eyes that somehow we started laughing. All that day and the next we communicated in pantomime and in broken Pitjantjatjara or English, falling into helpless laughter at each other’s antics. And so we came to Pipalyatjara – it is one of those rarities in the outback, an Aborigine settlement where the whites do a really splendid job of helping the Aborigines cope with prejudice, neglect and government bureaucracy. Glendle Schrader, a friend from Alice Springs, is Pipalyatjara’s community adviser, and we spent three days exchanging news. As I began packing for Warburton, 180 miles due west in the Gibson desert, Mr Eddie announced that he was coming too. DAY 80 That morning we set off together, and after a mile or two Mr Eddie insisted on a detour. He wanted to gather pauri, a native narcotic tobacco plant that Aborigines chew, and we turned into a valley beside the trail. We searched in silence for several hours and, in my ‘white-fella-preoccupation with time’, I began to wonder if we would ever reach Warburton. But Mr Eddie seemed to flow with time rather than measure it, and eventually I relaxed and began to enjoy my surroundings. It was not the least of the lessons he was to teach me. The following day was either a disaster or a delight, depending on one’s viewpoint. By afternoon we had trekked 15 miles and were tired, hot, dusty and fly-ridden. A column of red dust gradually rose on the horizon. Cars on the trail, though rare, frequently meant tourists, and I was in no mood to be gawked at today. These were worse than usual. The car drew up beside us, and several men in silly hats spilt out, festooned with cameras. ‘Hey, Bruce,’ one yelled, ‘come look at this gal.’ ‘Will you look at those crazy sandals? And she’s got a boong with her!’ Now ‘boong’ is the white’s racist term for an Aborigine, and temper sizzling, I pushed past the men, and attention shifted to Mr Eddie. ‘You stand by camel, there’s a good boy.’ Behind me I caught the multiple clicks of shutters: then all of a sudden Mr Eddie seemed to go berserk. Brandishing his walking stick he drove the tourists back towards their car, alternately raving in Pitjantjatjara and demanding payment for the photographs in broken English. The startled men beat a hasty retreat, emptying their pockets of bills as they went. Mr Eddie tucked the money away then he walked serenely over to me, and we cracked up. With tears streaming down my face I thought of the Aborigines, how they had been poisoned, slaughtered, herded into settlements, prodded, photographed, and left to rot with their shattered pride and their cheap liquor. And here was this superb old gentleman, who had lived through it all, who could turn himself into an outrageous parody of the Aborigine, then do an about-face and laugh with the abandon of a child. Reflecting on my own lesser problems and hardships, I thought: if you can do it, old man, me too. DAY 94 We parted in Warburton, Mr Eddie and I. I called on a friend by Australian Flying Doctor Service radio to take him home. I still think of our three weeks together on the trail as the heart of my entire journey. I had already arranged at Pipalyatjara to have a gun similar to mine waiting for Mr Eddie at Warburton. He had fallen in love with my rifle, and it seemed the perfect gift. The most dangerous part of the journey now lay ahead of me, the Gunbarrel Highway. We would travel 350 miles of the Gunbarrel’s total 900-mile length, taking us across the forbidding Gibson desert. The camels could not carry enough water to make it all the way, so my friend Glendle Schrader from Pipalyatjara would drive a truck with additional water from Warburton to the western part of the Gunbarrel. From Pipalyatjara the round trip comes to 800 hazardous miles, whether on foot or by motor. Such is the quality of friends. On July 15 I set out with Diggity and the camels. The country was harsh, though lovely in its way. Sand hills stretched over some of the route, interspersed here and there with great stands of impenetrable mulga bush. Golden tufts of spinifex grass turned portions of the trail into a giant pincushion that continually jabbed at our feet. The camels strained under loads consisting largely of water, and noselines frequently snapped. Progress was achingly slow. Yet there were some moments along the Gunbarrel that I will never forget. One morning before sunrise – grey silk sky, Venus aloft – I saw a single crow, carving up wind currents above the hills. One evening I opened a tin of cherries, the ultimate luxury, ate half, and put the other half beside the swag for breakfast. Woke up the next morning. Bub’s great ugly head, asleep on my legs, suspicious crimson stains on his lips. Mia Wasikowska on set filming Tracks. PHOTO: Contour by Getty DAY 112 Two weeks and 220 miles into the Gunbarrel I had a wham-bammer of a day. Rain, I thought as the first light slithered under my eyelids and into the folds of the blankets. But the clouds vanished, and then I realised something was missing: the sound of familiar camel bells. Zeleika and Bub were gone, and Dookie, it developed, was only around because he had a great hole in his foot and couldn’t walk. Where were Zeleika and Bub? How far had they gone? What about Dookie? Then I recalled what a very wise friend in Alice once said to me: ‘When things go wrong on the track, rather than panic, boil the billy, sit down and think clearly.’ So I boiled the billy, sat down with Diggity, and went over the salient points: You are a hundred miles from anything; you have lost two camels; one of the other camels has a hole in his foot so big you could sleep in it; you have only enough water to last for six days; your hip is sore from walking; this is a god-awful place to spend the rest of your life. So having tidied all that up, I panicked. Fortunately, it didn’t last, and after four hours I finally managed to get Zeleika and Bub back, doctored Dookie’s foot as best I could, and set off once more. The water situation was saved shortly afterwards by the arrival of Glendle and his truck. When he caught up with us, he was so exhausted from the trip he could barely speak. We unloaded two of three 40-gallon water drums from the truck, then filled my own drums from them with gallons to spare. ‘You’ll be wanting the other drum down the trail a bit,’ Glendle said. Wearily we drove some 50 miles to the west, dropped off the drum, and returned to camp. Minutes later Glendle was dead asleep in his blanket. Next morning he headed back towards Pipalyatjara. When he had become only a dust cloud on the horizon behind us, the silence and solitude closed in again. I was not in the best shape. My left hip, sore from endless slogging over sand hills, was barely usable. My skin was dry as dog biscuits, my lips were cracked, I’d run out of toilet paper, and a sun blister was trying to take over my nose. Had it all been worth it? I still thought so. DAY 118 At the cattle station called Carnegie, at the end of the Gunbarrel, I received another blow. The station was little used because of severe drought, and I could not resupply with food as I had planned. There was nothing to do but trek north-west 75 miles to the station at Glenayle and hope for the best. Food ran so low that I once shared Diggity’s dog biscuits – not exactly a banquet, but if they could keep her going, they could do the same for me. By luck I met two men travelling by car to Carnegie, and they gave me some tucker. One of them kindly made a leather boot for Dookie’s sore foot. It didn’t last long, so I made another that lasted even less time. Davidson's dinner at times included witchetty grubs. PHOTO: Rick Smolan All I could think of was Glenayle and escape from the drought. We straggled in at last, a miserable sight. I hadn’t washed for a month, my face and clothes were covered with red dust, I was exhausted, and I looked like a scarecrow. As I entered the Glenayle homestead, the first thing I saw was a lovely, middle-aged lady watering her flower garden. As I approached her, she smiled and without a lift of the eyebrows said, ‘How nice to see you, dear. Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?’ And so I met the Ward family – Eileen, her husband, Henry, and their sons, Rex and Lou. What warm, generous and utterly charming people, and how little I can ever repay their kindness. That week gave me a memorable look at Western Australia’s disastrous years-long drought. Though situated on the edge of the desert, the Wards’ cattle station survives on occasional rain and on groundwater from wells. But as we toured the property, I saw what devastation the drought had worked. The horses were skin and bones and the cattle were even worse. Yet never once did I hear a complaint or a harsh word from the Wards. Their entire future was at stake, with no relief in sight. Still, they hung on with courage and hope. While the horses and cows suffered, my camels – who could browse on trees as well as on ground cover – fared better, and after a week were slightly improved. One morning as I stood talking with Henry and patting Bub, big, jealous Dookie came up behind me. By way of attracting my attention, he opened his great jaws, took my entire head between them, and squeezed gently. Then he opened his mouth and galloped off, immensely pleased with himself. I don’t allow bad manners among my camels, but this once I could only laugh at Dookie’s form of wit. Soon afterwards we began packing up to leave Glenayle. The camels seemed pleased to get into their travelling kit again, so I didn’t tell them what lay ahead of us: the Canning Stock Route. The Canning is an Australian legend. It runs nearly 1,000 miles, linking the small towns of Halls Creek and Wiluna and, far north of our route, crossing the Great Sandy Desert, one of Australia’s worst. The route got its name from the days when cattle were driven along it from well to remote well, though I don’t see how they survived. Fortunately, I had to cover only 170 miles, from a point near Glenayle to Cunyu. The Gibson desert would be far behind us, and the remaining 450 miles to the Indian Ocean would be much easier. DAY 129 We left Glenayle after a week and headed for the Canning at Well Number 9. This was dingo country, and I was terrified that Diggity would pick up one of the poisoned baits set out to exterminate the wild dogs. I put a muzzle on her, but she whined and scratched at it and was so disconsolate that I finally took it off. The area was rougher than anything we had crossed before, and at Well Number 6 I called a halt. The setting was lovely, an infinitely extended bowl of pastel blue haze carpeting the desert, and in the far distance five violet, magical mountains soared above the desert. I longed to journey to those mountains. I had found the heart of the world. Well Number 6 hardly deserved the name. The surface of the water lay nine feet below ground level and could only be reached with a bucket, a rope and enough effort to cause a hernia. The water tasted foul, but none of us cared, and I camouflaged mine with huge doses of coffee. The night was incredibly lovely. I made camp and built a mattress of fallen leaves. The camels had more forage than they could possibly eat. In the evening they rolled and played in the white dust, raising puffs of cloud that the fat red sun turned to bronze. For three days it was perfection, and I wanted never to leave. On the third night Diggity took a dingo bait. I had to shoot her. Before dawn I left that place I had thought so beautiful. DAY 137 My only thought now was to push on to the end of my route. The country passed unnoticed beneath my feet, and I recall little of that time. I think I reached Cunyu on August 27. There at last the press caught up with me, and I first learnt of interest in ‘the camel lady’. To avoid pestering questions, I left the camels at Cunyu and sneaked away to Wiluna, 40 miles to the south. The people of Wiluna asked no questions: they simply took me in and cared for me. Within a week I was setting out for the Indian Ocean coast. Behind me lay nearly 1,300 miles – five months of travel. Ahead lay only 450 more miles. We made them slowly, for beyond Cunyu Zeleika fell seriously ill. She had nursed Goliath, her calf, throughout the entire six months, and now she suddenly began bleeding internally. I dosed her with everything in my medicine kit, but I was afraid she wouldn’t make it. I was wrong. DAY 180 A month after leaving Cunyu we arrived at Dalgety Downs cattle station, only 156 miles from the sea. David and Margot Steadman, homesteaders at Dalgety, took us in and proceeded to spoil all five of us. The camels were fed barley, oats, and lollies, an undreamt-of diet. They were praised, patted, stroked and talked to. With such care even Zeleika began to improve. For a time I considered leaving Zeleika behind with Dave and Margot and pushing on to the sea with the other three camels. But she continued to improve, and I decided that a dip in the Indian Ocean might do the old girl a power of good. On that final stretch of 156 miles we rode in style for about 30 of them. At Woodleigh, 36 miles from the coast, two kindly homesteaders, David and Jan Thomson, offered to transport the camels and me on their flat-bed truck to a point only a couple of hours’ walk from the beach. I accepted, but the camels had reservations. After the long journey, however, their trust in me was complete, and they finally climbed aboard. We trussed them up like plucked chickens and off we headed. DAY 195 Six miles short of our goal we unloaded and set out on the final leg. Oh, how my spirits soared. Two hours later I saw it, glinting on the far side of the dunes – the Indian Ocean, end of trail. An anticlimax? Never. We rode down to the beach towards the sunset and stood thunderstruck at the beauty of the sea. At the end of the journey, the camels were wide-eyed with wonder at the sight of the Indian Ocean. PHOTO: Rick Smolan The camels simply couldn’t comprehend so much water. They would stare at it, walk a few paces, then turn and stare again. Dookie pretended he wasn’t scared, but his eyes were popping out and his ears were so erect they pulled his eyelashes back. I was riding Bub, and when the surf sent globs of foam tumbling over his feet, he danced and bucked and shied and nearly sent me flying. Zeleika would have nothing to do with that freakish ocean, but the others were entranced. They refused to believe it wasn’t drinkable. Each time they took a mouthful, their expressions broke me up. We stayed one glorious week, then it was time to go. I had decided to leave all four camels in the care of David and Jan Thomson, who would give them a perfect home at Woodleigh after I returned to my own home on Australia’s east coast, where I could not keep them. On October 27 David and Jan showed up in the truck, and we turned from the beach for the last time. Many times since the trek I have been asked why I made it, and I answer that the trip speaks for itself. But for those who persist I would add these few thoughts. I love the desert and its incomparable sense of space. I enjoy being with Aborigines and learning from them. I like the freedom inherent in being on my own, and I like the growth and learning processes that develop from taking chances. And obviously, camels are the best means of getting across deserts. Obvious. Self-explanatory. Simple. What’s all the fuss about? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robyn_Davidson .