May's Lake

Coal magnate Francis Stuyvesant Peabody purchased 850 acres in DuPage County early in the 20th century, and named the estate after his wife May who recently died. He eventually built a Tudor style country house on the property in 1921, and died on a fox hunt on Mayslake the next year.

Peabody mansion

The family sold the estate to the Franciscan order, who repurposed the property to a friary and retreat center. The Peabody family donated a chapel in memory of Francis modeled after the church near Assisi where St. Francis began his ministry.

Portiuncula Chapel

The Franciscans periodically sold off portions of the estate to developers, and in 1991 placed the remaining 87 acres for sale. The residents of DuPage County passed a referendum to purchase the land and convert it to a forest preserve. Some arts groups use the old mansion which is slowly being restored. First Folio theater company began outdoor productions on the grounds in 1996, and creatively use the mansion for indoor performances.

All’s Well

My favorite part of the grounds is the restored prairie. Here’s a view over the small creek that runs through the property.

Mayslake prairie

The prairie is now in high summer bloom — Blazing Stars, Yellow Coneflowers, and Rattlesnake Master fill the scene.

Many butterflies are enjoying the flowers. This might be a Painted Lady on the Blazing Star.

Blazing Painted Lady

Now a whole new part of the preserve has opened up to us. Two months ago, we took a chance on rescuing a 3 1/2 year old Border Collie mix. He’d had some challenges with his prior family and developed many health issues, but a foster family helped him get back in shape. This bit of Scottish legacy has dove deep into our hearts. Mayslake has a big off-leash dog area, and Chance loves it!

Happy Chance

Fortunately, Chance loves going on long walks, and narrow trails through tall grass suits him just fine. One of things he’s learning is to sit still for my camera.

Last week, I brought Chance to the dog park, and figured I’d leave my camera behind for this trip. Of course, we get there and some new flowers had suddenly come in bloom. We watched as a hawk landed near them. It seemed I was back in Florida with Hibiscus in full sun. We came back with the camera, and the hawk was gone but the Rose Mallow blooms were brilliant. In the prairie vista above, you can’t see down into the creek bed. But there the Rose Mallow (hibiscus cousins) and Maryland Senna enjoy the wet ground in the far north part of their range.

Rose Mallow and Maryland Senna wave

Peabody built two lakes on the property. The Franciscans placed crosses throughout the property likely as a meditation trail. And this historic legacy remains in the restored prairie.

Calvary

Vacancy

An appointment last week brought me to my first trip downtown since early March. This was my longest absence from the Loop in at least 40 years, so I left early and brought my camera. I parked in the Millennium Park garage, but instead of the park being open 24 hours, it was gated. A path through Maggie Daley Park was open with a view across Frank Gehry’s bridge to Millennium Park.

BP bridge

With the park closed I walked up Michigan Avenue with a view of big ducks and small seagulls.

Last Dance Duck

Even though it was still somewhat early, very few people were on the streets or using the Divvy bikes.

After my appointment, the gate into Millennium Park was open, and the sumacs were showing off.

No one was on the lawn by the Pritzker Pavilion.

Pritzker Pavilion

One path through Lurie Gardens was open, and storm clouds were moving in. The garden, as much of the park, is actually the world’s largest green roof spanning train tracks and parking garage.

Lurie Garden 1

Lurie Garden 2

Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate, aka The Bean, is usually surrounded by people enjoying the reflections and taking portraits, but it’s now fenced off to discourage gatherings, so it’s easier to photograph without lots of folks’ reflections.

Cloud Gate

How do you notice things that might not be there?

Oftentimes you don’t notice things that aren’t there but should be. Or perhaps the image is one you prefer not to see, and therefore don’t. I wish to share with you an amazing podcast titled The Flag and the Fury. The Mississippi state flag was the last to include the Confederate battle flag. The story weaves personal fights by someone who surprised himself by becoming the first African-American cheerleader at Ole Miss, the granddaughter of rampant racist senator John Stennis, and the “final straw” role of the NCAA. It is simply an exceptional podcast of history and current events. I figured I’d illustrate the post with a picture of the old state flag. Certainly, I had pictures of county courthouses, and those would have flags flying, right?

In December, my post about Port Gibson, Mississippi started with an image of the Claiborne County courthouse, and its CSA soldier statue displayed in front. But no flags at all? I have pictures of the current and historic Warren County courthouses, but an empty flagpole by the “new” courthouse. Checked images from April 2019 of battlefields, historic sites, ruins, towns, parkways I shot in the state, and the U.S. flag is in several, but no state flag. But there!. The image of the Adams County Courthouse in Natchez had a flag flying!

Adams County Courthouse, Mississippi

Hmm, do I have one with a breeze and flags unfurled? Yep. U.S. flag, Adams County flag, and perhaps a POW flag in between. State flag? Nope.

A quick google search, and in April 2016, the Adams County Board of Supervisors voted 4-1 to take down the Mississippi State flag at all county buildings.

So why no images of the old state flag? Did I just not notice the absence of it? Did I avoid taking pictures of the battle flag? Was it just not flying? Did I travel in parts of the state where it wasn’t being flown? I did learn on the trip that the state is not as universally “red” as I had thought, and especially in the western part of the state along the River. Natchez had a significant anti-slave movement or at least “tolerance” before the Civil War. Even the 2016 election results show more blue counties in Mississippi than in Illinois.

2016 Presidential election results, copyright 2016 Politico.com

The podcast notes the most popular selling flag in the state for the past several years has been one designed by Laurin Stennis. Shortly before the vote to remove the old flag, the Jackson Free Press urged that her design be adopted as the state flag. Despite her decades of anti-racist work, Laurin Stennis recognized that her grandfather’s supremacist legacy could not be untangled from what was being called the Stennis flag, and she stepped away from the effort to adopt her design as the new state flag.

Stennis Flag

For now, Mississippi remains the answer to the trivia question: What state does not have a flag? The complex narrative of racial history was further illustrated to me in a visit in Natchez to the William Johnson house. Johnson was born enslaved in 1809, the same year as Abraham Lincoln. His home is on the National Registry of Historic Places, of which less than 8% relate primarily to African Americans. Unfortunately, due to parking on the street, and the power lines, I was not able to get a good image, but here is the building now run by the National Park Service, and Johnson’s old home is on the right.

William Johnson home, Natchez, MS

Johnson’s master and father freed William Johnson’s mother from slavery in 1814. Johnson, Sr. had to travel to Louisiana to file the paperwork where laws were easier to free enslaved people; however, the law only applied to adults not minors! Eventually, Johnson, Sr. got the governor to sign an order freeing 11 year old William in 1820 after Mississippi became a state. Williams’ older sister married a free black man who was a barber and taught Johnson the profession, who in turn opened his own barbershop in 1830. Johnson would eventually run three barbershops, a bathhouse, and a farm. (Below is a phone snap from a mirror from one barbershop.) And he owned and used slaves in all those businesses, and he would inherit more slaves from his freed mother when she died.

In 1851 Johnson was shot by Baylor Winn, a mix-raced neighbor with whom he had a property dispute. In court, Winn argued he was not black but of American Indian and white descent, and the court agreed despite contrary evidence. Since Winn was declared to be non-black, no black person could testify against him under Mississippi law, and since all the witnesses were black, Winn was released.

However, what created a niche in history for William Johnson was not discovered until 75 years after his death in the attic of his house. From 1835 until his murder, he kept a diary. The diary, like his businesses, home and slaves, was a symbol of a cultured and educated life. It is the only account by a free black man of life in a small, southern, antebellum town. He never wrote of his thoughts of slavery and rarely even mentions owning other humans. Was it because owning slaves was just such a part of daily life that is was not worth mentioning, and not even “seen” by a former slave? Was it a too challenging part of his history to confront? We are just left with the questions.

Angels' share

When Joe and I planned our stops around the Highlands, we maximized time for whisky distilleries, including selecting a B&B within walking distance of a couple. The first restrictions of the coronavirus instead greeted us, and closed the first two reserved tours. Fortunately, we were able to find some alternatives to keep us busy. Among the prettiest, was also the smallest—Edradour. As it approaches its bicentennial, the Victorian buildings run along the burn.

Edradaur distillery

Since it is so small, its whiskies are hard to find, but good news for you in the Chicago area. The Binny’s buyer loves Edradour and visits several times a year to choose a selection to return to the Chicago stores. Another small distillery near Pitlochry is Blair Athol also beautifully situated on the burn that runs right through.

Allt Daur burn

Blair Athol has been legally distilling whisky since the 18th century, and the buildings help you feel transported back there, though a couple drams may provide the same feeling.

With only two stills, you won’t find any single malt bottles in the states (though you’re welcome to stop by for a dram if you’d like a taste!) However, most to the production goes into Bell’s blended whiskey, so you can get a taste that way.

Wash still No. 1 and Spirit still No. 1

When one of the mash tuns was replaced a couple years ago, the old one was converted into a tasting bar. So you can sit next to the tun where your scotch started its conversion many years ago as you sip it.

Mash tun bar

The water source Allt Dour is Gaelic for “the burn of the otter,” so an otter graces Blair Athol’s signs.

Not only did the virus interfere with our tours and samples, so did the weather. Dalwhinnie is the highest distillery in Scotland, and a snowstorm hit as we crossed over the Cairngorms and closed the distillery since folks couldn’t get to work.

Dalwhinnie

These distilleries have all been inland, but a couple sit right on the coastline. The Dalmore on the Cromarty Firth is know for its multiple barrel aging. After first aging in American oak barrels, the whisky is further aged in sherry casks, and sometimes port casks as well. You can see a selection of barrels, butts and casks below.

The Dalmore Distillery

Just up the coast is Glenmorangie boasting the tallest stills in Scotland. You can find some great Glenmorangie selections at good prices at Costco! And you can listen to the great sound of the Glenmorangie’s chief distiller, Dr. Bill Lumsden, the Willy Wonka of whisky, in a great 2018 documentary Scotch: A Golden Dream on Amazon Prime.

Glenmorangie storage and aging buildings

In the image above you see the buildings where the whisky is aged in oak barrels. Below is a picture inside Blair Athol’s aging house. If you stand outside the building, near one of the vents, you get the wonderful smell of the aging whisky inside and the portion that filter outside the barrel staves. This is called the “angel’s share” that goes to the heavens.

Reawakening

When COVID restrictions began, Morton Arboretum stayed open as a place for people to visit, relax, exercise, and enjoy nature. Unfortunately, failure to social distance led to its closure. Last week it reopened to members on a reservation basis to see if visitors would respect the place and each other.

The trails were respectfully used by runners, bikers, hikers and strollers. I missed seeing all the daffodils and other spring blooming, but grassland flowers are now showing.

Water features are great for reflection.

Someone left a message along the trail.

We found a wonderful spruce grove we’d never been in before.

Trees retain their history. Ancient ones have within them centuries of wisdom. Here’s a poem read today by the U.S. poet laureate written by Rachel Eliza Griffiths, Whipping Tree from Laurel Grove Cemetery South, Savannah, Georgia, 2018.

#BlackOutTuesday

I’m conflicted whether to post today or just listen. I decided to post a couple images of reflection.

#BlackOutTuesday

We watched a couple robins build a nest outside our window. Only one egg hatched, and the chick did not survive. The nest and three eggs were abandoned. Such lost potential.

Abandoned

Some light in the storm.

South Dakota

Im-printing memories

Using confinement to print some images of Scottish castles to hang on the wall. Here’s one of some sheep outside Huntingtower. This was first two castles built next to each other by two brothers around 1480 and joined together more than a century later. Mary Queen of Scots stayed here on her honeymoon with her fateful marriage to Lord Darnley.

Huntingtower castle

Venture downstairs at Edzell castle, which still has a wonderful Renaissance garden outside.

Edzell castle staircase

Look out the window at Doune castle where Monty Python and the Holy Grail was filmed as well as scenes in Outlander.

Ready to sit down for dinner?

Back outside to watch some snow on Sterling castle.

Sterling castle

Been there, dune that

My first photo excursion out was to Indiana Dunes National Park which has remained open during quarantine except for one beach that became too heavily used. So on a cool, windy afternoon, we headed over to the easternmost beach which had just a few visitors keeping good distance. A hike up the backside of the dune opens up to a view of Lake Michigan.

It’s still hard to believe there’s now a national park about an hour from home, but a view of Chicago skyline reminds you.

The force of the wind off the lake lets you know how the dunes developed. But the winds would also knock down some sand above and little avalanches would flow down.

Wonderful patterns in the sand could allow you to imagine you were in the desert Southwest.

A few trees manage a roothold in the shifting sands. This dune is now closed for hiking after a boy was rescued after being sucked down into the sand a couple years ago. Geologists determined an ancient tree had decayed and created a cavity that opened up, and that several more are under the dune.

Time to go as the sun got low, and you could imagine you were leaving the Namibian desert.

A bridge forth

It’s a pretty easy metaphor to say we’re all on a bridge confined to a certain course until we get to the other side. So with that we’ll venture forth to a place with some engineering marvels. The Firth of Forth is an inlet from the North Sea upon which the Scottish capitol of Edinburgh sits. The Edinburgh castle sits high on a volcanic crag overlooking the city, and the oldest building in the castle grounds is St. Margaret chapel built in the 11th century.

St. Margaret Chapel, Edinburgh castle

Margaret, wife of King Malcolm, would regularly cross the firth by ferry to get to the pilgrimage site in St. Andrews in Fife. This narrowest crossing of the Firth of Forth is still known as Queensferry. Jumping forward eight centuries to the Industrial Revolution, train travel expanded across the United Kingdom, and steel production helped expand building possibilities. In 1882, construction began on a rail bridge across the Firth of Forth, and the first major steel bridge was built. The bridge is still the second longest cantilever bridge in the world and continues to ferry trains across the forth. In 2015, it received UNESCO’s designation as a site of universal historical and architectural value. The image below shows the village of Queensferry and the bridge.

Forth Rail Bridge above Queensferry

Jumping forward to the 20th century, a ferry was still used for passengers and road vehicles, so construction on a suspension bridge began. In 1964 Queen Elizabeth opened the longest suspension bridge outside the United States. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any images of the suspension cables. But I did have the great pleasure of seeing these structures with my son Joe a bridge engineer! He was quite impressed with the steel under the bridge deck as well, so I did get an image of that. In the background is the final bridge I’ll write about.

Below the Forth Road Bridge

And opened just 2 1/2 years ago is the Queensferry Crossing Bridge. At 1.7 miles, it is the world’s longest three tower, cable stay bridge. Our hotel was next to this elegant bridge and we had a great view of three century’s of engineering marvels.

Queensferry Crossing

Spring?

Walks to the parks by home present some scenes worth a shot or two. It seems as if we’ve had more snow in October and April than the rest of the season. So as leaves and flowers are coming out, the snow’s falling.

Snowy Elms

Red, Maple

Budding

Closer to the ground, there’s more color.

Magnolia

Daffodils

That was Friday morning. Most of the snow was gone that afternoon, and by Sunday ducks were swimming in the melted snow.

Mrs. Mallard

And enjoy running in the park.

Trooper

Isolated

How about ensconcing yourself in a lighthouse? Even better, how about the extreme northeast part of Britain past the wonderfully named village of John O’Groats? There’s Duncansby Head lighthouse.

Duncansby Head

For a century and a half, Robert Stevenson and his descendants built nearly every lighthouse in Scotland. Visits with his father to remote lighthouses inspired Robert Louis Stevenson to write books like Kidnapped and Treasure Island.

This light was built in 1924 by David Stevenson. On the eve of the Norway invasion, a German bomber machine gunned this lighthouse. It looks more peaceful today.

Duncansby Lighthouse

Don't Travel Tuesday: Clouds

As we stay close to home, there is plenty to see. We are fortunate in Illinois to be watching the unveiling of spring. Maybe fortunate—though the number of people out sharing the path in today’s great weather makes social distancing a challenge. I’ve lived in the country’s two flattest states. Erna Nixon, one of my mentors, said clouds were our mountains in Florida. Like all Florida state parks, Paynes Prairie Preserve in the north central part of the state is now closed to enforce social distancing. But scenes like this are still available. Interstate 75 runs through the park, and I had to pull over last year to capture this scene.

Paynes Prairie Preserve, Florida

Taking the highway further north, Interstate 55 runs near the town of Lexington, Illinois. When summer storm clouds like this gather, I knew a cemetery just off the interstate exit might provide some interesting foreground for the storm.

Lexington, Illinois cemetery

Sometimes when the storm clouds gather, it’s worth getting on the rural roads to find a scene like this early morning in Livingston County when the storm was moving east.

Livingston County, Illinois

For something a bit brighter, how about a mangrove on the causeway across the Indian River Lagoon.

More trees

As we are confined close to our homes, the trees continue to both watch over and accompany us. Another companion for me is Mary Oliver and her poems. So how about a bit of Mary and trees?

When I am among the trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

. . . .

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

From Thirst 2006

by the Kyle of Sutherland

Black Oaks

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance

and comfort.

. . . .

But to tell the truth after a while I’m pale with longing

for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can’t keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

. . . .

For here I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

. . . .

From West Wind 1997

Along the River Moriston

In The Tempset, when Prospero is shipwrecked on the island, he hears the screams and howls of Ariel. The witch Sycorax ordered Ariel to help with her “abhorr’d commands.” But Ariel refused because “he wast a spirit too delicate.” So as Prospero monthly reminds Ariel that Sycorax “did confine thee . . . in her most unmitigable rage, into a cloven pine; within which rift imprison’d thou didst painfully remain a dozen years.” “When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape the pine, and let thee out.” But Prospero freed Ariel, only to make him his own slave, and in turn threatened him: “If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak, and peg thee in his knotty entrails, till thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.” The Tempset, Act I, scene II.

And there, in the trees along the River Moriston, was Ariel.

Ariel

Don't Travel Tuesday: Trees

Is it disheartening to post about travel when we are prohibited? Or might it be an escape? I’m not sure, but it somehow doesn’t feel right just now. I think I’ll continue with a subject from Friday: trees. And this will be about my close friends. Not that these are especially dear to me, just nearby—quite literally at the end of the block. And survivors of disease.

Ulmus Americana

Around a century ago in Europe, a fungus from Asia arrived, likely by beetles on a ship. A scientist in the Netherlands identified the disease in 1921, and so it is now called Dutch Elm Disease. The tree’s effort to block the spread of the fungus is to fatally plug it’s own system of delivering water and nutrients.

The disease soon arrived by ship in New York City. Quarantine and sanitation practices limited it’s spread until World War II when other demands relaxed the containment efforts, and the disease spread throughout the country.

I live in town named after the Elm tree. My street was canopied with elms when we moved in. The numbers have dwindled, but I can still look out the kitchen window as I type this and see the playful branches of one across the street silhouetted against the gray sky. This one can look down the block across the tops of all the newer trees who have replaced the lost relatives, to the two my neighbor Mike cares for in his yard. He watchfully cares for them, and inoculates them in the spring giving them a chance to survive. One is pictured above, and the other will be below.

From 1919 until 1928, Carl Sandburg lived in town. He published Abraham Lincoln, The Prairie Years, several children’s books, and volumes of poetry while living here. He commuted to his job at the Chicago Daily News. The Chicago, Aurora, and Elgin Electric line that then had two stops in town, was later abandoned. In the 1960s it became one of the first unused rail lines to be converted to a public path. A freight line, a couple hundred feet north had also been abandoned, and in that narrow corridor between the lines, a treasure had been left. Although nicknamed The Prairie State, nearly all of Illinois’ original prairie was plowed over for farming or development. Between the tracks was an original bit of prairie, and the trail is named The Prairie Path.

Prairie Path

Yesterday morning, a spring snow covered the trees and the grasses. A few like us escaped their isolation for bit to enjoy this beauty along the path. On our return home, we were greeted by Mike and Mary’s elms which will soon be showing their buds. I believe those two elms’s branches and roots reach out to each other, and share a very long conversation. Perhaps, Carl Sandburg’s memory held scenes of riding down the rail line or walking the streets of town some March when he wrote Elm Buds.

Elm buds are out.

Yesterday morning, last night,
they crept out.
They are the mice of early
spring air.

To the north is the gray sky.
Winter hung it gray for the gray
elm to stand dark against.
Now the branches all end with the
yellow and gold mice of early
spring air.
They are moving mice creeping out
with leaf and leaf.

-Carl Sandburg

(Source: Honey and Salt, Harcourt Brace & Company, 1963)

Gray for gray

WWII Museum

As the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II approaches, an immersive way to understand the immense scope to the conflict is the National WWII Museum in New Orleans. Why New Orleans? I remember reading Steven Ambrose’s book D-Day after it was published in 1994, and a significant part of the book reflects on the contribution of Andrew Higgins’ amphibious land-craft to winning the war. The boats were built in New Orleans where Ambrose lived, and he helped inspire the creation of a D-Day museum in the city. In 2003, Congress rededicated the institution as the National WWII Museum.

National WWII Museum campus, New Orleans

One building on the downtown campus focuses on the European theater. The videos and oral histories are embedded in life-size dioramas that immerse you in the conflict.

Another building focuses on the Pacific theater. I was surprised by the scope of the conflict in China which began in 1937, and in which an estimated 20 million Chinese were killed before the war ended.

I was surprised there was not a larger exhibit about the Higgins landing crafts and their manufacture in New Orleans. However, one was on display in the massive Boeing Center where we attended a dinner in the evening under the aircraft display.

We had a delightful encounter in the home front exhibit where you start by “riding” on a train named “North Platte.” A friend Barb Warner Deane has written several WWII historical fiction books, and one, The Whistle Stop Canteen, is about the incredible women volunteers in Nebraska who greeted and supported troops who passed through North Platte as they were transported across the country.

To make the experience even more immersive, you can stay across the street in the new Higgins Hotel across the street from the museum that has beautiful war era themes from the lobby to the rooms.

Fat Tuesday

While compiling some pictures this week for a family reunion in July, I came across some slides of a stop in New Orleans from about 1961 or 62 of my mom and I at Cafe DuMonde. Mom first looked amused, then annoyed at my antics. I never made it back to New Orleans until last year. (And man, that Kodachrome is still great film.)

Cafe DuMonde about 1962

Cafe DuMonde, New Orleans French Quarter 2019

The city is a wonder to photograph even with a short visit. And stepping out from the Cafe and overlooking Jackson Square to St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest Catholic cathedral in the states.

Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral

Continuing on into the French Quarter presents unending images.

And sometimes it pays to be lucky. I liked how the moon was lining up with a cathedral cross when a falcon decided to join the scene.

And the magic light continues even as the sun goes down.

Narrowing

The Zion Canyon road ends at a spot appropriately called The Narrows. The Virgin River (not the new Netflix series) has carved the valley through the red Navajo Sandstone. Downstream, the River has cut through all that sandstone to the softer Kayenta shale which then undercuts the harder sandstone which collapses into the valley as it widens. In the Narrows, it hasn’t yet reached the shale, so the widening hasn’t begun. After the road ends, an easy trail continues along the river for a mile. At that point the canyon narrows even more and you need to walk in the water to continue up the valley. The image below looks back upstream to the wider valley with Angels Landing in the far distance.

Zion Canyon, Zion National Park, Utah

The trail continues upstream.

Narrows Trail

The colors of the water contrast nicely with red rocks that it carves.

The Mississippi River drops about an inch every mile. The Virgin is much shorter at 160 miles long but drops 7,800 feet in that distance, or about 71 feet every mile in the park. It is a pretty steady drop, but there is one nice small waterfall along the Narrows trail.

Swimmin' in the Shedd

For many years after it opened 90 years ago, Chicago’s Shedd Aquarium was the world’s largest indoor collection. Many new facilities have passed it in scope, but it’s still a place to see wonders, especially during an icy Chicago winter. And a bonus is the aquarium is free for Illinois residents most days in January and February.

One of the big expansions, now several decades ago, was adding a 90,000 gallon Caribbean Reef where a diver will often provide an audio tour while feeding the fish.

The original building’s classical and Art Deco design carries throughout the upper floor of the building.

But exhibits in the lower levels incorporate new design.

But the stars remain, the glorious and often bizarre creatures in the collections.

Longhorn cowfish

Moray Eel

U-505

On June 4, 1944, a Navy Task group with a mission to sink German submarines that had devastated Atlantic sea traffic, captured U-boat 505 off the west coast of Africa. It was the first enemy ship captured by the U.S. Navy since 1817. Chicagoan Navy Captain Daniel Gallery, who led the task force, convinced the Navy to donate the captured sub to the City of Chicago in 1954. It has been on display at the Museum of Science and Industry since then. Last year, an excellent new exhibit details the effects the submarine warfare had in the Atlantic and the story of the capture of U-505. Capt. Gallery had dreamed of capturing a ship, but nearly faced court-martialling for not sinking it. He was later promoted to Admiral.

Capt. Gallery on the deck of the USS Guadalcanal

When I was a small boy, a visit to U-505 was a mandatory stop when going to my favorite museum, along with visiting the walk-in human heart, coal mine tour, and hatching baby chicks. At that time, the sub was painted green and sat outside behind the museum. After decades of weathering, an underground home was built to display the submarine. The sub had been painted green after capture to disguise it as an American ship and to maintain the secret of the capture. Last year the exterior and interior were repainted to its appearance during the war.

U-505 on display at the Museum of Science and Industry

The exhibit tells the fascinating history of the capture and aftermath. Lt. David led the boarding party, and was the only Atlantic Fleet sailor to receive the Medal of Honor. A picture of the eight sailors who boarded the sub and prevented it from being scuttled is on display. When the picture was taken, Lt. David had been called away, and another sailor was photographed in the group by mistake. When the Navy published the image after the war, the other sailor was edited out of the image, and the museum added Lt. David into the image for its display.

U-505 landing party

The U-505 and its contents was the largest single intelligence capture in the Atlantic, and remained a secret until the war was over. The allies were on the verge of the Normandy landing, and did not want the Germans to know of the capture so that they might change their coded communication that the allies had cracked. Two Enigma machines were in the sub along with several code books were immediately sent to the British code breakers in Blenchly Park. The torpedoes were analyzed so defenses against them could be improved. The German submariners were isolated in a prisoner of war camp in Louisiana, violating Geneva Conventions by keeping their capture secret, denying visits by the Red Cross, and prohibiting the prisoners from communicating with family who had been informed they were dead. The sub was towed to Bermuda, rather than a base in nearby Casablanca because of the German spies who were in the African city.

Enigima ciphers

There is a multi-sensory tour of the interior with lights and sound-effects. It doesn’t have the smell of 49 sailors confined in a small space for three months, but amazingly, the engine room still smells strongly of diesel fuel from 75 years ago. The museum has entrance free days for Illinois residents for most weekdays in January and February.

U-505 interior

To explore strange new (Toadstool) worlds

The Escalante River area in southern Utah was the last area of the United States to be mapped. Geologic wonders are found throughout the area. You might remember a post I did in 2018 about the Toadstool area of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. I revisited earlier this month. As we were driving from Kanab, Utah under the blue morning sky, we noticed clouds ahead and wondered whether it was fog. Not long before the Toadstool hike, we were enveloped in the cloud, not to see the sun again until we drove away. Since the temperature was just below freezing, hoarfrost covered the landscape.

Toadstool Trio

You can see the frost lightly covering the red sandstone. When I wrote about this area in 2018, President Trump had just reduced the protections President Obama had placed on the area creating Bears Ears National Monument. This Toadstool area was one that lost protection. QT Luong is a great photographer of U.S National Parks. You might’ve seen him featured in Ken Burns’ documentary on National Parks. His photography guide to the Parks is priceless, well very pricey, but worth it. He just wrote about some of the magnificent areas in Grand Staircase-Escalente that are at risk including Toadstools.

Toadstools, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

The real wonder were the plants covered in the hoarfrost in the washes down below the toadstool area.

Just below the area pictured above, I was stopped in my tracks by the beauty of an exotic, frost-covered plant.

Desert Trumpet

Eriogonum inflatum

I searched to identify the plant, and found that it’s named Desert Trumpet because of the bulbous areas in the stem. An article said scientists first believed the swollen areas were caused by insect larva, but later realized the insects were just taking advantage of the natural bulbous area. It’s caused by CO2 regulation, so its caused by gas. Perhaps we can petition to rename it the Desert Trump.

As I was thinking about writing this post, I immediately thought of Star Trek. Hiking here was likely walking on one of the strange planets the Enterprise explored. So imagine my amazement when I finally discovered the identity of the Desert Trumpet, and then the article had a reference to it in Star Trek: Voyage, Season 3, episode 1. Unfortunately, I can’t figure out how to get a screenshot of the scene it is shown in, probably because of copyright protections. Oh well, you can watch the episode on Amazon for the split second view of the Trumpet at 3:47.