It's colder than the tipple on a niche's wit!

Hawksbill Crag
Tim Ernst

As readers know, I like to visit Tim Ernst's website regularly for recent images of home, though when I heard about the extreme cold, I had to wonder if he'd ventured out . . . but he had, and had pictures to prove it, too! Like the one above, taken on January 7th, some time after dark, when the mercury had already dipped nearly to zero fahrenheit, which is a scientific way of saying "purty damn cold!"

That image may look like daytime, but just note the stars. Those, a half moon, and some snow make for the brightness of day (with long exposure time, of course), but the hour is late, and Mr. Ernst observes in his journal that the windchill must be the equivalent of 15 to 20 below zero. Even the Arkansas Ozarks can get mighty cold!

Makes me glad to be in Seoul, where the temperature is tropical, just a bit below zero celsius . . .

Tim Ernst: Slot Canyon Falls

Slot Canyon Falls

Tim Ernst

Since I can't actually live in the Ozarks, I do so vicariously, partly through emails from Uncle Cran about his farm and Cousin Bill about his gardening and partly through visiting Tim Ernst's website for his fine photographs of Ozark wonders in the wilderness, like this waterfall and pool situated in a hard-to-reach hollow, about which he himself has some words to say:

It took me three tries to reach this waterfall, and I've only been to it once. The route up through the narrow, SLICK, slot canyon is tricky, dangerous, and not recommened. After fighting the swift current, and making my way up the canyon without the use of any handholds (the canyon walls are very smooth and there is nothing to grab), the passage was blocked with a giant boulder. I had to climb up on top of the boulder and found this scene, which is one of my most favorite waterfall images of all time. Enjoy!

Mr. Ernst has even more to say in his entry for April 1, 2013:

I was out yesterday exploring a new area in the wilderness and found a waterfall . . . . It was a neat waterfall -- probably 25-30 feet tall -- but I could see there was something else above it -- the large sheer bluffface was broken into at least two different levels, and I wanted to get up onto that second level to see what was going on.

I worked my way along the base of the bluff a couple hundred yards to where I found a spot where an old log had fallen from above and provided a conduit for me to climb up onto the next level . . . One up on the ledge I started to make my away along the base of the new bluff back towards the waterfall . . . . and I just had to stop and shake my head and smile a little bit in wonder. There was an overhang at the bottom of the bluff about three feet tall, and it went back in a couple of feet. I love to follow along the bases of blufflines like this one - there is frequently interesting stuff right there along the ledge . . . . Another hundred yards later I came around a bend in the bluff and there it was -- the second layer of the waterfall, and this one was more beautiful than the first, spilling into an emerald pool, and surrounded by painted sandstone bluffs. That was the end of the ledge, and there was not way to climb up farther -- which I really needed to do because it looked like there might be a THIRD waterfall up there!

So I retraced my steps . . . and continued exploring along the base of the bluff until I found a spot where I could make my way all the way up to the top of the big bluff. Once on top I sat down on a moss-covered boulder and got an incredible view out across the landscape that was spread out before me. The sun was shining and it was just one of THOSE moments out there in the middle of the wilderness -- it was so serene and beautiful.

A little while later I made my way along the top of the big bluffline until I came to the waterfall drainage, and sure enough, there was indeed a third waterfall -- but it was actually down below me, and I never could find a way to get down onto the hanging bench that it poured onto.

Mr. Ernst's quest this time thus ended in failure, sadly -- but he still got a beautiful picture for his trouble, though whether of the second or third pool, I can't securely determine, but I think it's the second, insofar as I can judge from his description.

I sorely wish I could hike such paths as his off-the-path walks . . .

Ozark Photographer Tim Ernst on the Loss of a Very Special Dog . . .

Aspen Flying

Tim Ernst

Cloudland Journal

As every dog-lover knows, dogs are special, so emotionally attentive to people and intelligent enough to understand what people want of them -- so much like human beings . . . except their lives are far too short. Famed Ozark photographer Tim Ernst reports from his Cloudland Cabin on the recent loss of his dog Aspen after thirteen years together in the Boston Mountains of the Ozarks:

January 21, 2013: [In Memory of a Dog called "Aspen"]

There is an eerie calm, a stark quietness . . . at the cabin this morning . . . . [My wife and I] have taken a deep breath at the emptiness, and cannot let go. This amazing dog has been a constant fixture at Cloudland for more than 13 years, and it may take that long to not look in the room each time we enter to see if he is there. Of course, his spirit will always be here . . . . We were told . . . a couple of years ago that Aspen would soon be eat[en] up with cancer, but like everything else in his life he simply continued right on . . . living and hardly slowed down at all . . . .

Then the nerves to his hips started to erode . . . . He eventually lost the ability to use his hips to get up off the ground . . . . On Christmas night a winter storm rolled through, leaving 3-5 inches of snow on the ground. When I got up around 4 a.m., I discovered that Aspen was not in his bed and a chill ran down my spine . . . . I knew something was wrong, and I ran out the front door. I found him hiking around in the snow with a smile on his face, and I breathed a huge sign of relief. Until I saw the ground around him and realized what had happened. He had gone outside in the middle of the night to pee, and with the steps snow-covered, he was unable to climb up them -- in fact it appeared that he tried many times and slipped and fell down each time. It was FRIGID out, with the wind blowing and the temps way below freezing. To keep warm he simply started to walk around, and walk, and walk, and walk. I found three places where the snow had melted all the way to the bare earth -- he had fallen and it took him so much time to get himself back up that the snow melted underneath. He literally made HUNDREDS of trips back and forth, as every square inch of the front yard was covered with his tracks -- I bet he walked several miles in the snow, pacing back and forth. It was a scene that brought horror to my heart.

From that night forward, Aspen was never been able to get back into the cabin on his own again . . . . The funny thing, up until literally the very last day -- was that once up on his feet, Aspen could hike for miles, and often did. He . . . would hike out to the mailbox and back (three miles) several times a week . . . . [a]nd often . . . hike the "loop" around our end of the mountain, about a mile through the forest and meadows. But recently, he was unable to hike completely around the loop . . . and would turn around and head back to the cabin -- that was not a good sign . . . .

I know . . . the difficult decision of when to pull the plug . . . and . . . our decision was compounded by the fact that Aspen seemed to be totally thrilled to be out in the woods hiking . . . and even though he had reached the point where he could no longer take care of himself, we just couldn't do it . . . . [F]or the past several months I've considered every single hike we went on as his last . . . just . . . that you never know when the end is going to come. And nearly each time at some point I was down on my knees in the leaves with him and the tears would flow. And yet there was tremendous happiness on both sides . . .

We all took our last hike on Friday [the 18th of January], and Aspen was happy and eager to make the complete loop around the mountain, through the forest, and across the meadows he had called home for more than 13 years. Towards the end of this hike we all sat down on a sunny slope in the woods -- and everyone knew it would be the last hike -- it's just one of those things.

On the way to town Saturday morning we stopped and Aspen got to dip . . . [his] toes into the Buffalo River, another one of his playgrounds all these years. I never knew a dog that could spend so much time in the water swimming, and swimming, and swimming. And then once in town I took him out into the woods near where I grew up -- in fact the very same woods where I took my first steps. And we hiked a little bit along the first trail that I ever hiked on. And I gave him a cheeseburger -- he LOVED cheeseburgers!

At the doctor's office I stroked his ears (that always gave him intense pleasure), and he laid his head down . . . . The doctor looked up and said "He is chasing bears in heaven now." I have no doubt about it . . .

A beautiful memory of the sort of loving friendship possible to have with a dog . . . and even more beautiful in its entirety, so go there to Tim's Cloudland Cabin and read the complete story . . .

Stunning Ozark Photographs by Tim Ernst

Remember this image from an Ozark winter? I borrowed it last November 26th from the website of famed Ozark photographer Tim Ernst:

It might not look so large, you may be surprised to learn -- courtesy of my Cousin Bill -- that this falls has a twenty-five-foot drop, roughly eight meters! In the photograph below, only recently snapped, you see where the water enters:

That hole is five feet across, over four and a half meters, and the weather is obviously far milder, as befits March in the Ozarks. By clicking over to Mr. Ernst's March 2012 Journal B and scrolling down from beginning to end, you can find a lot of text if you want the context to this image, along with twenty other photographs, many of startling beauty, such as this one of a lone pine:

In case anyone is interested in geographical knowledge, most of the twenty-one photos, if not all of them, were taken in the Boston Mountain region of the Ozarks, the most rugged part of the greatly eroded plateau, through which runs the Buffalo River amidst high bluffs. Visit the area from where you now sit by clicking on the link provided above.

Mr. Ernst's work is available for purchase, as well, so you can even bring the Ozarks into your own home . . .

Ozark Spring House: Mild, Rainy Winter Day

Ozark Spring House

Cloudland Journal of Tim Ernst

January 27, 2012

Whenever I need my Ozark fix -- which is every morning -- I click over to the website maintained by Ozark photographer Tim Ernst and spend some time contemplating his latest photographs. This morning in Seoul is January 28th, but since Arkansas lies on the back side of the International Dateline, Mr. Ernst must have posted this update of January 27th only some hours ago, though the picture was taken a couple of days earlier. The Ozarks had gotten a bit of rain, apparently, so the Buffalo River Valley had hundreds of waterfalls pouring off its bluffs. Mr. Ernst had gone out to take pictures and also took one of this small spring house directly beside a tiny waterfall:

It rained all day Wednesday, but I was able to sneak out for a couple hours in the afternoon with camera and tripod to visit a couple of nearby waterfalls. I have been unable to get enough [photographs] of the [small waterfall alongside this] little spring house in Boxley, and it only runs well during flooded times for a few hours, so I stopped there first and spent some time with this old friend. There were a few raindrops coming down but nothing too bad. I just love the look and texture of the smooth stones they used for this little building, also the lush moss-covered little bluffline right next to it, and of course the splashing waterfall in between.

Boxley is a small Arkansas village on the upper Buffalo River, and I'm guessing that this is an old spring house from which the locals used to get their water, back in former days. The spring itself -- seen emerging from the pipe in the lower part of the above photo -- surely runs year round. Only the miniature waterfall requires rainy weather to run. Below is a close-up of the falls.

I find these two images so peaceful to gaze at, especially the upper one, with the full stone structure in view. In my younger days, I believed that I'd make my way back to the Ozarks after my worldly adventures, but in my case, Thomas Wolfe seems to have been right, for I likely won't be going home again, not to live, anyway. I guess Seoul is my home now, and I'm getting to know this great city of Asia, but I do need my Ozarks, if only in snapshots, so I'm glad that a man like Tim Ernst is around, daily taking photographs in the Ozark Mountains of Northern Arkansas.

I encourage others to visit his website and look around . . .

Frozen Ozark Waterfall

November 2011

Photo by Tim Ernst
Available at Tim Ernst Poster Prints

Ozark weather must be turning cold, at least in pockets of higher altitude in the Boston Mountain region if this image above photographed and posted by Tim Ernst can be believed, and I believe it can since he doesn't do photoshopping. Note the blue glow at the top of the frozen falls. This indicates light from above refracting down through the ice. My use of "waterfall" and "falls" is perhaps not quite correct since this can't be much of a drop, not more than a few feet, I estimate. Your judgment may differ (and should differ, as I now learn from Cousin Bill, for this falls has a twenty-five-foot drop, roughly eight meters!). Anyway, I post it this cold morning in Seoul because I'm feeling a bit homesick . . . as the video to these lyrics will reveal if you click on the title:

Ozark Mountain Jubilee
Recorded by the Oak Ridge Boys
Written by Scott Anders and Roger Murrah

I hear the rooster crowing
It's a frosty morning
I can almost see the sign
Going so fast I can't stop
I'm just a stone's throw from Little Rock
Heading for the Missouri line

Don't need a map to get there
You can get there from anywhere
When you're going in your head
I can see the arms outreaching
Just like the day I was leaving
It's been oh so many years

Let me get on the Frisco Silver Dollar Line
Take my time
And see all I can see
Fiddler rosin up your bow
We'll have our own
Ozark Mountain Jubilee

If I can't be a favorite son
I'll be the prodigal one
Cause I been gone too long
Oh how the years have flown by
Oh how I realize
How much of me is gone

Let me get on the Frisco Silver Dollar Line
Take my time
And see all I can see
Fiddler rosin up your bow
We'll have our own
Ozark Mountain Jubilee

Ozark Mountain Jubilee . . .

Nostalgia, I suppose, is the label to apply to these feelings, but I try not to be self-indulgent. I just want to remind myself of where I come from . . .