Pyro mania - Part II

One of the fireworks I love the very most is what's called a comet (above - there are seven of them).  A comet starts laying down its big fat sparky tail as soon as it's fired out of the tube, tracing a wide graceful arch of glowing particles through the night sky.  Just after it reaches its apogee, the head turns down (forming the shape of a comet, hence the name) and the entire tail begins to disintegrate in a rain of a million sparkling stars falling earthward.  I've long been curious about the way they're made and what they look like in shootable form, so I was very excited to see that a fellow named Jim Widman would be giving a demonstration this year (Jim also made and launched a rare and spectacular 24" shell that filled the sky Saturday night).  Jim walked us through the process from stirring together the ingredients to turning out a grapefruit sized black powder hockey puck formed with a hydraulic ram.  The hole in the middle (below right) gives the comet special properties other than being fabulously beautiful.  Jim is the fellow to the left with the blue shirt on.

While I was busy learning about comets, I also had the pleasure of meeting Bob Winkour (at right in above photo), chemist extraordinare and pyro authority, especially on the topic of glitter (the fiery kind, that is).  He beckoned me over to show me two beautiful mineral samples he had brought to use at his seminar on Sunday, one iridescent lemon yellow and the other deep ruby red.  He was kind enough to give me two small samples after I ooed and ahhed over the colors.  Turns out what I got are samples of exotic arsenic - arsenic trisulfide (also called by the wonderful name orpiment) and an arsenic sulfide that goes by the name realgar.  Better alert your personal taster.

I happened on Bob later in the afternoon while he was busy showing a group of rapt males the effect of igniting the powdered orpiment.  Outdoors, that is, since one of the vile products is mercury vapor.  It was mind boggling to witness firsthand, and happily I remembered to switch the camera to video (which I usually forget).  Lucky you can witness this amazing sight from the safety of your desk:

As the light began to slant late Sunday afternoon, a good many of us gathered to watch the Jackalopes finish attaching the outrageous amount of pyro they had prepared to their 30 foot Ferris wheel which now stood in center field.  It was a good time to mill around and touch base one last time with some of the great folks I'd so enjoyed spending time with.  One person in particular that I'd been delighted to run into was my wonderful friend Bob Mackey who I hadn't seen in some time.  He'd been at the very first one of these conferences I'd attended back in 2005 and I hadn't been able to spend much time with him since.  I had the bonus pleasure of meeting two of his coworkers that he'd brought along, Kurth and Dave, who were both a genuine joy to spend time with.  I had so much fun geeking out with those three.  That's Kurth at left below near the Ferris wheel and at right below taking pictures of the remains of the million firecracker wall. 

 Ken Smith, who is another fellow I adore, shot an anvil or two just for the hell of it while we all dallied about.

I went back out to the rocket line for a couple of hours, shot off a couple of dinky commercial comets I'd gotten at the vendor tent and then went and found a good seat for the last display show of the weekend.  The Ferris wheel was spectacular.  It was a profusion of pyrotechnics, but the pinwheels we made in class on Thursday lit up distinctly toward the end and made gorgeous perfect spirals of silver and gold.

I had another hour or so of driving to do before I reached my overnight destination, so I peeled out right after the show feeling a pang of separation anxiety from all my sooty friends as I drove in the dark toward Kingman.

Here are a (be warned) bunch of shots I took Saturday and Sunday nights:

Pyro mania - Part I

I'm sitting in my motel room in Kingman, Arizona, looking through the set of pictures I've taken during the last few days and it occurs to me that it's going to be very difficult to select the right set of images to tell the story and not get too long winded.  I had so. much. fun.

So let's get down to it.

Remember the egregiously large box of chocolates I bought for me, my wonderful valentine?  Well I decided to hang on to the box on a hunch and the hunch worked out splendidly.  I offered the giant heart shaped box to a wonderful pyro group called The Jackalopes (inventors of the Bunny Blasto roman candle shooting range) so they could use it as a target for their shooting gallery.  All the targets on the roman candle shooting range get filled with pyro so that when the lucky roman candler hits a gunpowder sprinkled target, the target lights the pyro and the target  begins to spin or send up a shower of sparks, etc.

The gracious Jackalopes not only jumped on the idea, but encouraged ME to be the one to rig it with pyro!  How cool is that?  I filled the heart with a series of fountains (the ones you put on the ground and when you light them a shower of sparks goes up) and applied both glue and tape to secure the pyro to the box.  Later that evening it was put on a spindle and blasted.  I wasn't out on the range to see it go, but was told it looked pretty badass completely engulfed in flame.

As you might imagine, the shooting range is wildly popular.  To the left is a picture of the range after only the first night of shooting.  A bunch of grinning, giddy adults made that mound.  The Jackalopes also spent a good portion of their weekend working on a giant 30 foot ferris wheel covered with pyrotechnic effects that was lit during the last show of the weekend.  They're great about rounding up volunteers to help them (which everyone is eager to do) and I was able to participate in the ferris wheel project in two different ways over the weekend.

One way was participating in a seminar where the class built 8 large pin wheels - a spinning gizmo with four rocket-like drivers on it.  These would be attached the ferris wheel and provide a lot of silver and gold glittering sparking action.  My favorite pyro instructor Kurt Medlin (right) taught the class where we rammed black powder into tubes and fused them.

A few pictures from Friday night's show:

   

Another thing to mention is my ongoing love affair with the rocket line.  I spend the majority of my time out there and enjoy every minute of it.  The rocket line is the area where anything on a stick gets launched.  Out there you'll see everything from world class (I'm not kidding) rockets like the 60 pound beauties on the right to little handmade student jobbers.  The amazing rockets on the right are made by a fellow named Bruce (with red/white/blue hard hat) who is reverently worshiped by pyros one and all.  I don't know many of the specs on these rockets, but they soar incredibly high and blast off with a force that will literally knock your socks off.  Bruce is a master pyrotechnician as well, so when the rockets reach their apogee and burst there is generally a long slow waterfall of changing effects and colors that has to be seen to be believed.  We're really lucky to have Bruce attend our get together and bring such marvelous toys.

One of the other big reasons I love working the rocket line is the company I get to  keep out there.  There are a multitude of fascinating mad scientists and entertaining engineers.  But watching over all of us is the inimitable Bill Ryan who is not only is the lead for the manufacturing part of the event, but is also out on the rocket line every minute it's open to make sure we're operating in as safe a fashion as possible.  I love working with Bill and think he's a peach of a guy.  And he is not the least bit afraid to tell it like it is which is an important quality in a safety lead, if you ask me.

 Okay, this is crazy, but I'm completely out of time to do any more writing.  It's imperative that I leave in the next fifteen minutes to head out to Havasupai Canyon for what I am sure is going to be an amazing adventure.  I'll have to continue this post later - and in fact much later.  I'm about to walk 10 miles into the wilderness of the Grand Canyon area for three days and won't have a bit of connectivity until Wednesday.  I do intend to allow my laptop to take precious space in my backpack so I can work on my blog while I'm at the lodge.

See you fine people three days and 20 miles from now!

Got to dash!

Alright, I absolutely do not have time to write - I've got to dash off and help the Jackalopes make pinwheels for the giant ferris wheel display at the Sunday show!  The first day of the convention was a hoot, start to finish, and I just barely laid my head on the pillow by 1:00 a.m. last night.  I don't want to get too far behind on my blog though, so I have to tell you about just one thing until I can write again.

THERMAL LANCE!  I was really really excited to see a thermal lance demonstration listed on the schedule and it was a thrill to get to see it in person.  Here's the simple explanation: burning metal bores through anything.  Here's the more long-winded version: a pipe is loaded with metal rods (steel, aluminum or magnesium can be used), the tip is heated to glowing red with an oxy acetylene rig and pressurized oxygen is blown through the tube from the handle end to the business end.  Out of the business end comes molten metal and pressure sufficient to cut through, oh say, ROCK.

To be continued ...

Look at me, I'm a rocket scientist!

I didn't take a single picture today since I was busy registering and doing the administrativia for the first day of the Western Pyrotechnics Association conference I'm attending this week.  Well, conference is probably too fussy a word for a bunch of child-like adults who gett together to shoot off fireworks for four days straight.

I volunteered this evening to work a stint (as I will every night) assisting with safety on the rocket line.  The rocket line is hands down my favorite venue.  The rocket line is where attendees come to shoot large rockets they've made during the event (think bottle rocket but way bigger, like Wylie Coyote size).  The rocket line has a mad scientist identity that it rightfully deserves because there are a lot of experiments that get launched from a rocket rack.

Traffic on the range tonight was pretty light since it was the first night of the event and the wind was blowing an absolute gale.  We did have several surprises to keep the evening interesting, though.  After one fellow had lit his two rockets and begun to walk away, the fierce wind seized the rack the two rockets were in and dashed it to the ground.  There wasn't a thing to do but sit and watch as one of the rockets shot like an arrow only a few feet above the ground, skimming the surface of the road and then heading deep into the distant brush.  Which made ALL of us laugh, shake our heads and say, "That is exactly why we close the road!"  The other rocket got loose and started looping madly like a Water Wiggle until the thrust gave out.

The very last rocket of the night was the one I'm always on the lookout for.  It was the perfect finale!  It lifted about 3 feet out of the shooting tube and burst.  I could literally hear chunks of it fly past my hard hat/safety glasses/denim coat/close-toed shoes.  It looks like you're standing in the middle of a 30 foot tall sparkler.

Yahhhooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

I've Got the Sweetest Hangover

It was so nice to wake up in the Fifi.  I had roused sometime during the night and been reassured by seeing the three glowing turquoise heads hovering above me, but when the coral colored morning light started to stream in the eastern windows, it made the whole trailer shimmer with lavender and pink.  I'd slept on feather pillows under a silk comforter in a bower of golden glitter.  If I knew how to purr, I would have been making a sound like a thresher.

I spent a leisurely morning tucked cozily in my trailer writing and preparing myself for departure.  It was stone silent except for the sound of the wind, which had picked up considerably overnight.  I was so happy in my littler trailer!

I reluctantly packed the last items in the car and headed out just before lunch time.  Next stop, Lake Havasu City, where I'll attend a Western Pyrotechnics conference.  It was a relatively short drive compared to the journeys I'd made the four previous days which allowed me to slow down and enjoy the scenery, especially since there were all sorts of charming clouds lurking about, throwing dramatic shadows over the landscape.

I stopped several times to investigate something or other I found interesting, and one time when I was poking around the roadside desert, I spied this lovely item:

Looks like a piece of paper in the sand to you, doesn't it?  But the trained eye (thank you Nate) knows this space age portico to be the doorway to a pack rat palace!  The cup became submerged in the sand, so this sophisticated rodent added a Jetson's style cover to mark the entrance of the abode.  Frank Gehry of field mice, this one.

Just before reaching the tiny town of Rice, California, I happened upon a shoe fence that I remembered having seen on a previous trip.  I was very happy to see it had grown significantly since my last visit.  There definitely seems to be some sort of  passion at work helping the thing to thrive!

There were quite a few decorated shoes, but there was also a huge diversity of other items that people felt compelled to leave - a washrag with a Sharpie message, for example.  I became sort of attached to the monument below.  It stood a little apart from the fence and seemed to be dedicated to a particular individual, one Omar Toache.  It felt very much like one of the wonderful statues in the Desert Art Museum of Noah Purifoy.  I like to think he might have even inspired it.

I was through the beautiful rocky hills of the Parker area in no time, crossing the dam so I could finish making my way to Lake Havasu City.  I feel like tomorrow is the first day of school and I can hardly wait!

Valentines Salvation on the Way to Hicksville

What an incredible day!  I took it on today to celebrate being my own valentine since I'd be out on the road by myself, and what an amazing result.

After breakfasting and provisioning in Yuma, I set out on a path that would take me north past the decrepit Salton Sea area on my way to my ultimate destination: Hicksville Trailer Palace in the Twentynine Palms area.  That would allow me to drop by and visit Salvation Mountain outside of Niland, California and it was urgent that I do so because the fellow that built it, Leonard Knight, was recently moved to a managed care facility, which is unfortunately an all too common death knell for a folk art environment.

Leonard has spent the last 30 years literally painting a big pile of mud.  He's added elaborate chambers and rooms to the mountain using trees, straw and other salvaged materials like windshields.  But every square inch of it is coated in bright shades of what was left over from painting your daughter's bedroom.  Leonard's legion of fans lug their leftovers to him so he can continue his work, tirelessly.  Just look at the donations that had accumulated when I was there:

The sheer scale of the place is hard to capture.  If you look at the picture of the mountain above, you can just see a tiny couple sitting at the top under the cross.  Suddenly, that becomes a lot of paint and a lot of painting when you think about it.

But what I see most when I look at this place is the thousands and thousands of beautiful abstracts that lurk in every single nook and cranny.

What a perfect place to take me, Valentine!  Salvation Mountain is about love in a way few other things manage to be.

After I left, I stopped and spent a good hour picking through a trash dump not a mile west of Salvation Mountain.  The glittering bits of glass had caught my eye as I had driven by earlier, so I took a sack and spent some time filling it with little bits of treasure for my own version of Salvation Mountain.  What a swell day, Valentine!

I drove north past the odd, sad, Salton Sea including a town which is straightforwardly named Mortmar (dead sea so far as I can tell).  The Salton Sea is a man made body of water that has a long sad history of environmental disaster.  There are still people living in little outposts here and there, but it's largely abandoned as a place to live.

I did stop at a date farm along the way to sample some dates and try one of their famous date shakes.  My review: tasted just like a milkshake.  Meh.

I continued driving north to a favorite passage of I-10 where it intersects with Highway 62 - dramatic desert scenery with a forest of immense wind turbines, turning as fast as their arms will go.  It's the turn off to a wonderful stretch of this great country of ours, The Twentynine Palms highway.  There are so many choice destinations along this road from the Integratron toNoah Purifoy's Desert Art Museum (to name just two), but I was headed to the Hicksville Trailer Palace for a Valentine's day celebration in the gloriously purple Fifi trailer.  B'anna Federico had kindly tipped me off to this place several months ago and it was just in time to include it as a stop on my itinerary.  I had a big Valentine's evening planned: a giant box of chocolates, a bottle of good champagne and some tasty morsels to eat.

When I arrived, everything began tumbling into place at light speed.  The trailer was perfect.  The setting was perfect.  The other GUESTS were perfect!  I spent the rest of the evening playing in my trailer and getting to know my fellow trailer trash - I had an absolute ball!   What a great group of folks.  Obi and Ali brought their archery gear, so we spent some time getting to know one another while plunking arrows into the targets on the BB gun/Archery range.  Bernadette and Dave regaled us with stories of Disneyland and ordered us a delicious pizza. Todd, Ethan and Jesika worked in the recording studio and joined us between bouts of recording for delicious bourbon and lively conversation.  There was a fire under the stars.  AND a fire in a tepee!  I think I could write a book about how much fun I had last night.  One of the last things I remember was sitting outside gazing up at an incredible canopy of stars and planets, the desert whisper quiet with a steady breeze blowing, all while the strains of Mr. Blue Sky by E.L.O. played from the jukebox in this terrain so frequently visited by extraterrestrials.  Perfect.

I came to Hicksville for a cool hotel room and I got a whole event is all I know to say.  Awesome.