Rose Fosha, Archaeologist
Old Chinatown Site
Deadwood, SD

HBO's Deadwood has caused quite a stir in the real Deadwood. Traffic to the city's website is up six-fold, and the tourism board is expecting a huge increase in visitors this summer. First settled in 1876 because of the large gold deposits, Deadwood became legendary because of the larger-than-life heroes that walked its streets like Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. Today, Deadwood is a casino town located just a stone's throw away from Sturgis, SD, famous for its annual motorcycle rally.

For the past four years, the city of Deadwood has taken a portion of its gambling revenue to finance archaelogical digs through the Historic Preservation Society. Rose Fosha, a state archaeologist, has led a team of students, professionals and volunteers to excavate the area that used to be Chinatown, in hopes of finding more about these early immigrants.

Like in Butte, MT, Chinese immigrants were sent to Deadwood by one of six large Chinese companies that would pay for transportation across the Pacific in exchange for work. At the turn of the century, Deadwood had a Chinese population of between 250-500 residents, although many of them eventually dispersed as they did in Butte.

As I watched the team uncover a portion of a building foundation that hadn't been documented on any historical maps, one of the stars of HBO's Deadwood showed up to the site, apparently visiting the town that had made him famous. Jim Beaver was spending the week in Deadwood, on hiatus from the LA-based shooting, getting to know the area. [note: I originally said that it was Leon Rippy, but Jim e-mailed me to tell me it was him. Sorry about that Jim!]

The Badlands' name was derived from both the French and Native American terms that meant "bad lands to travel." Vast prairies suddenly give way to plunging canyons and eroded spires of sedimentary rock, so it's no wonder that the early people found the lands so inhospitable. Because the center of the US was underwater 70 million years ago, you won't find any dinosaur remains, but many other types of fossils can be found, and are still found today by tourists wandering around.



The national parks service also has a "passport" with information on all the parks in the US (Deleware is the only state without a national parks reserve apparently), and you can get a stamp for each park in each visitor's center. It's a very cool concept, and one that I wish I knew about earlier.

George Washington & Thomas Jefferson
Mt. Rushmore
Keystone, SD

State historian Doane Robinson had the revolutionary idea of carving the faces of the nation's famous into the granite needles that poke through the South Dakota Black Hills. He approached sculptor Gutzon Borglum, who agreed to the project, and decided to carve into Mount Rushmore because it was more structurally suitable for such a monument. Opposition to the project came from many groups including the Lakota Tribesmen of the Black Hills, who saw the project as an abomination. Yet, as the faces emerged from the rock between 1927 - 1941, the mountain soon became a source of national pride, and a major tourist destination.

One of the assistants on the Rushmore project was a polish immigrant from Boston, named Korczak Ziolkowski. After winning first prize at the New York World's Fair in 1939 for a sculpture, he was approached by the Lakota Indian Chiefs who wanted him to build a memorial to Crazy Horse, the Indian Chief, whose defiance against the encroachment of his lands by the white men became legendary.

With only $174 to his name, Ziolkowski moved to the the foothills in 1947 following a tour of duty in World War II, and slowly and meticulously started carving the 600 foot mountain into the shape of Crazy Horse riding his stallion.

Despite passing away in 1982, seven of Ziolkowski's ten children and his wife continue to work on the privately funded memorial. With over 50 years of work, the only discernible feature is the face of Crazy Horse that was revealed in 1998, yet millions of tons of rock have been moved to slowly shape the mountain. The foundation that runs the project has no estimate for when the sculpture might be completed, and it refuses to take federal moneys, continuing the philosophy of free enterprise that Ziolkowski held from the start.

As impressive as Mount Rushmore is, the entire sculpture could fit into the head of Crazy Horse. When completed, the Crazy Horse Memorial will be larger than the Great Pyramids of Giza.

The non-profit organization has built a cultural center near the base of the mountain, that will, in time, become a formal educational institution with a vast collection of Native American artifacts. On this day, I saw a Lakota Indian named Larry performing a dance meant to scare away his enemies. I thought it was funny that his name was "Larry" instead of something more exotic, but heck, my name is Allen, so who am I to judge?

It's strange that we spend so much time and money on these enormous effigies when there are so many other humanitarian causes that need the resources. Yet, these projects are inspirational, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the achievement of carving a mountain, as well as what they represent. It is doubtful that the Crazy Horse Memorial will be completed in my lifetime, but I would like to come back in another 50 years to witness the progress of American will.

Old Faithful Erupts
Yellowstone National Park
Yellowstone, WY

If Old Faithful was a part of Disneyland, I'd be asking for a refund. I waited over an hour for her to blow, and when she finally did (a little late, I might add), there was no thunderous soundtrack, no fireworks, no large mouse shaking the hands of the kids. In fact, before it was even over, hundreds of spectators were already heading for the exits. The geyser doesn't even make any noise. And everyone was quiet. It was like watching TV with the sound off. What happened Mother Nature?

The day started with a hailstorm in Big Sky, MT, which gave way to thunder and lightning. The temperature darted between the 40s and 60s for most of the day, as i drove the windy path from west to east of Yellowstone. What the park lacks in sheer vertical height, compared to Yosemite, she makes up with almost alien landscapes generated as a by-product of the geothermal activity that underlies much of the area. And strangely, as you leave the park towards Cody, the landscape becomes incredibly sparse -- nothing like the lusciousness of the Yellowstone.

Along the way, I spotted buffalo, elk, deer, and even a grizzly bear cub foraging for food on a hillside. Apparently, you're not supposed to get close to the buffalo, but heck, I'm from the city. What do I know about wildlife? So there I was just a few feet from the resting buffalo trying to get a nice shot for the blog.



Lots of dads were out flyfishing today, despite the inclement weather. I had grand notions of jumping in the middle of a stream to shoot a picture, but figured the water temperature was probably in the 40s, and well, I was never a posterchild for the Navy SEALs anyway.



As I exited Yellowstone, I had the pleasure of driving through Big Horn National Forest, which is more of a tribute to geological outcrops with exposed strata dating from 2.5 billion to 200 million years in age than a forest. I navigated the mountainous road as the sun set behind me, and was fortunate enough to catch the Ray Charles memorial services on NPR. It seemed fitting that the man who made "America the Beautiful" famous should croon one last time as I passed through some of the most beautiful vistas the country has to offer.

Gummi Bears at the Walmart in Cody, WY are half the price of New York City gummi bears.

As I stopped for gas in Buffalo, WY, I was pulled over as I entered the gas station. My crime? 37 in a 30mph zone. Fortunately, I got off with a warning, which in all honesty is what the crime merited. 7 miles over the speed limit? Surely you jest. That is not a crime. That is making sure the flow of traffic isn't impeded unnecessarily. The cop was cool enough, so I have no real complaints. As I entered the quik-mart to pay, the cashier asked me what part of New York I was from, having spied my plates as I parked in her gas station for nearly 10 minutes.

"I'm from Niagra," she told me, and went further to explain that she had moved to Wyoming after having met a guy on the Internet. Don't get me started. Anyway, she ended up marrying the guy, and seems happier in Buffalo, WY, than she was in Buffalo, NY.

Happy Father's Day, pop.

The Yankees
Yankees v. Red Sox - South Spokane Little League
Spokane, WA

Spokane exemplifies exactly what happens without adequate city planning. What appears to be a lack of more stringent zoning, and sprawl control, has turned the city into a literal strip mall connected by 4 lane "highways" and poor traffic patterns. The urban areas of the city have nothing distinct or unique, which contrasts sharply to the nature that surrounds the Pacific Northwest.

Surrounded by the ugliness, I hadn't planned on staying for very long, but I found myself a bit tired from the days of driving, and my recent bout with sickness. I spent a better part of the day lounging around in Border's Bookstore, and then found a Little League game on the southside of town. Ironically it was the Yankees v. the Red Sox with 9 year olds scrambling around in the orange light of the late afternoon. The nine year old game is quite entertaining. The ball moves slow enough that it's easy to follow the action, and ironically there is probably more action because the kids are still learning how to judge plays. Errors and kids bumping into each ohter seem to be commonplace, and therefore highly enjoyable. The kids don't really care about winning yet either, which is refreshing.

And after the game, I got to toss around a football with a couple of the kids. We ran around the baseball diamond throwing the football as far as we could, and it was the most exercise I've gotten in about six states.

The next day, I drove across the border into the lake resort town of Coeur D'Alene, ID. They were having their annual Car D'Lane vintage car fair, which featured some cool cars, but it was very similar to the stuff I saw in Green Bay. As I was ready to pull out of the parking lot, I heard the familiar sound of ball on bat, and soon found myself shooting a AA ballgame.

I dashed off to Butte in hopes of photographing an arm wrestling contest at a local pub, but I was about an hour late, and the clientele looked a bit suspect. And when I say "suspect," I mean they looked like they had probably committed a number of crimes...

Berkeley Pit
Digital Composite Photograph
Butte, MT

With street names like Quartz, Platinum, and Galena, it's no wonder that Butte's main industry is mining. Energy costs drove mining out of town during the 80s, but after deregulation occurred, mining resumed in some parts. Berkeley Pit was once the largest open copper mine in the world, but now is a highly toxic lake. The EPA relaxed clean-up requirements as long as the water level stays below a threshold, so now, a modern water processing plant sits on the banks of the lake to purify water and ensure that the levels do not rise too high (and they are rising).

After the California Gold Rush passed, many Chinese immigrants moved to Butte because of the boon in mining. In 1870, the Chinese made up nearly 10% of Butte's population, but were met with disdain and discrimination, and eventually fled for greener pastures. But for many decades, a Chinatown flourished in uptown Butte, and two of the original buildings (Mai Wah Building) still remain, and are maintained by a historical society. Of note, a brick-laden wok oven that originally used firewood for the noodle shop that formerly operated until the 1940s.

Butte also has the distinction of having the worst mine disaster in the US, killing 163 in the Granite Mountain Shaft in 1917. Despite precautions, a miner's carbide lamp ignited a oil-laden support rope, which carried the flame down into the shaft, torching the men that were working over half a mile below.



As usual, hunger pulled me over to stop in Bozeman, MT, where I was suprised to see a pretty hip downtown area. The cosmopolitan nature of the town can be explained by the presence of the Montana State University (whose mascot, incidentally, looks an awful lot like Kansas State's). So maybe you have to put up with a bunch of drunks, but college towns sure seem to be an economic benefit to areas around the country.

And what would a summer day be without some sport. Unfortunately, bad weather has been following me around, starting with the 46 degree disaster that was my morning. By the time I made it to Missoula, it had warmed up to the mid-50s and even lower 60s, which was warm enough for the men's 45+, slow pitch softball league to take their positions at McCormick Park. Just a hop away across the railroad tracks is an almost completed ballpark for the Missoula Ospreys, a Pioneer League team for the Arizona Diamondbacks. Wish I could have watched a game there, but it looks like they are a few weeks away from completion.

Michael Clemens
President, National Sunflower Association
Wimbledon, ND

I was really just trying to get out of the rain that had enshrouded most of eastern North Dakota. Despite the mystique of the movie, Fargo was really like any other town with it's line of fast food restaurants on the main drag through town. But it was hunger that pulled me to stop at the Valley City Burger King, when a gentleman came up to me as I was stretching next to my car. You see, with the 47th least populous state in the nation, the North Dakotans can spot an out-of-towner from a mile away. A one-minute conversation, turned into Mike inviting me up to his 6,000 acre farm just a few miles away.

After Mike ran some errands in town with his mother, we met up at the Valley City Chamber of Commerce where he jumped into my car, and started showing me around North Dakota. The High Line Bridge which is the main railroad link through the north central US was closely guarded during both world wars for sabotage because it was so important to commerce. He showed me a local dam, and explained how the increased precipitation in the past 10 years has caused a potential disaster waiting to happen in nearby Devil's Lake. And then we drove onto his properties where he grows corn, wheat, soy and sunflower. He explained the nuances of weed control, contracyclical pricing, and showed me all his farm equipment including his bitching new sprayer complete with GPS unit.

Between his farming, Mike spends time lobbying on behalf of the Sunflower organization, which includes trips to the Far East and across the nation. He's also active in state politics, currently trying to get an ethanol plant built, so that the corn that the state grows isn't shipped abroad for ethanol processing.

Despite becoming sick as a dog a few hours later, today was one of those great days where you meet a local that changes your whole perspective. Mike is planning an anniversary trip to NYC with his wife in November, so maybe we'll have a chance to meet up again.

Finally, traveling around the US gives you a chance to see lots of neat town names, but this has to be one of my favorites so far. Exit 7 off I94 in North Dakota is the little town of "Home on the Range."

Volcanoes vs. Sidewinders
Lincoln School Fields
Alexandria, MN

The largest mall in the US is conveniently located in the Twin Cities. The Mall of America boasts over 500 stores on three levels, and includes a huge center atrium with rollercoasters, and many other rides and attractions to suck in the visitor, and keep them captive for as long as possible. Just how big is a 500+ store mall? It's so big that it has five Mall of America stores selling Mall of America merchandise. I'm a big mall fan, but I can't imagine wearing a Mall of America T-shirt. It's not exactly like wearing a Disneyland shirt, mind you.

On the list of things not to do in the Mall of America, or in Minnesota for that matter, is eat sushi. Sure, Land o' Lakes, blah, blah, blah, but somehow the thought of eating sushi in a landlocked state seems like a bad idea. That might just be me.

So I figure that while I'm at the largest mall in the US, that I should purchase something. And as many people have noted before me, you can never have too many underpants, so I strolled into Banana Republic to grab a few boxers. Yes, I felt silly spending $16.50 for a pair of boxers, but consider it my little part to helping out the MN economy. As I drove west from Bloomington, I saw a sign for some outlet stores, and figuring that this was my big shopping day, I decided to pull over and check it out.

Lo and behold, there was a Banana Republic outlet. But the BR outlet is not the same thing as BR -- i.e. there were no exchanges to be had here, despite the fact that the boxers were only $6. Same damn boxers. I told the saleslady that I had just paid retail at "the Mall," and she said, "oh, I never pay retail for stuff like that. It's always on sale." Well, eager to get my average price of boxers down to a more respectable level, i bought even more boxers. Sure, now I have more boxers than I need, but at least my average cost was only about $10, right?

As I was near the MN/ND border, I pulled over in Alexandria, MN, to find some stamps. After wandering around town, I found some little league games that were being played. I only got hit by one ball, and my car almost got hit by a foul ball, but all in all, it was a good time.

I wasn't quite sure which eye to look at when talking to the cute waitress at the Pizza Hut with the lazy eye. She was very friendly, and was interested in my cross-country journey. Alexandria apparently has a lot of little resort areas around the lakes, and that is why the town exists in the first place.

It's interesting to judge a town by its radio stations. For example, in Cleveland, you'll find lots of hip hop and top 40 radio stations, but as you move into Wisconsin and Minnesota, you find country, classical, and lots of "on-air ministries." The problem with driving in one direction, is that when you finally find a station you like, you really only have about an hour's worth of listening time before the signal degrades. This has happened several times while I've been listening to "All Things Considered" on NPR. My father used to listen to the show when he picked my sister and I up from Japanese school. I still remember that opening jingle very well.

Radar Speed Pitch
Cinder City Days
Altoona, WI

After my poor shooting at the girls softball championships, I was determined to work on some basics by shooting some Little League. Eau Claire's Fairfax Park seemed like it would fit the bill with its two ball parks, but as I rolled into town, I was unable to find it. I wandered around town and found a men's slow pitch softball game in nearby Altoona Park, and retrieved my gear in my car when I saw a carnival that was a part of Altoona's Cinder City Days festival.

No matter where you go in the US, carnivals always have the same rides. The ferris wheel, the Zipper, the air-filled castle that kids jump on...and those silly games with the crappy prizes -- the ones that the kids go nuts over. Lots of weird folks running the concessions, and fat parents feeding their not-so-skinny kids with cotton candy, soda and funnel cakes. But I love it all because it represents such a uniquely American experience.

As I was wandering around the fairgrounds, an older woman came up to me and introduced herself. Connie lives across the street, and this afternoon, God told her to get off her couch and go meet someone. I happened to be the person she met.

She invited me to her church for a performance some of the kids were giving that afternoon, and I thought it would be a great photo opportunity.

It turns out that they were performing "Cool in the Furnance," a musical about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, which I had performed in grade school. After the performance, one of the parents got up to speak to the audience (about 125 people) and the kids about some of her favorite songs, including "Know When to Say No." She continued by telling the kids that when the teacher brings up evolution in the classroom, they ought to know in their hearts to say no, and accept creationism as the true history.



Then as I was packing up my gear, Connie asked me if Jesus was in my heart, and gave me a book written by a born-again who was once a skeptic. She prayed for me, and walked me to my car. When I told her that I was from Hawaii, she asked me if I spoke Hawaiian. I told her no, whereupon she replied, "Oh, well, you've probably been in the US for a while."

Now, I'm not one to judge -- after all, growing up as a minority can give you a sense of perspective and tolerance. Secondly, I was raised Christian, despite not practicing any more. And Connie was very hospitable and introduced me to many people at her church. However, she "befriended" me for one purpose, and that was to "convert" me. So the pretext for meeting me was distasteful to me, and the rate at which she engaged in asking what I consider to be personal questions (i.e. my faith, my family) was artificial and a bit repulsive.

And the implication of her not knowing that Hawaii was a state (and has been since 1959), and that English is spoken there like in all other states was laughable. She was sure about Jesus, but 50 states were a stretch. And please don't get me started on creationism. It is fine to teach your kids about the Bible. But when you start to shun science and scientific method, that's when I get upset. These conservative forms of Islam shun science, and it breeds a stagnation of society. Sure, you can question whether cellphones have enhanced society or not, but you would not question the value of medicine.

Yet, if this journey is about experiencing America, then today was as significant as any other day. Religion is a huge part of this country, as is the right to assemble and express your opinions. So on this day, America is tolerance.

Bill Greskiw, Coach, Catholic Central Hilltoppers
WIAA Division 4 Softball State Champions
Madison, WI

The wake-up call came at 6:15am, the time I thought that I would motivate to get out of bed and head to downtown Green Bay to shoot a road race. But ah, time is so fleeting, and the next time I looked up, it was 7:30, far too late to get up to make the 8am race.

But my quest to shoot some sports this weekend would not go unsatisfied, and a quick search of the local newspaper indicated that the State High School Softball Championships would be played that night in Madison. I hopped in my car, dodged several areas of high flood waters, and ended up at the Goodman Softball Complex to case out the area. Not so surprisingly, another game was about to begin, and with the sun shining high in the sky, I grabbed my gear and made my way down to the photo position at 1st base.

Division 4 girls softball is probably one of the worst possible sports to watch. Lots of missed fly balls, bad infielding, high percentage of attempted bunts....and yet, on this day, the game came down to the final inning with the final batter. With the Oakfield Oaks up by one run, Catholic Central's Katie Uhen stepped up to the plate and nailed a line drive that sent two runners home, for the tie and the win.

At the high school level, everyone plays for pride. There are no gifts or payoffs, no large salaries. Just a bunch of kids and their competitive nature. And as such, the tears of dejection are real, and you can't but help feel sorry for the losing team. I shot very poorly today -- sports photography still needs work -- but I found the experience incredibly satisfying.

Guy with a Engine Hat
Hot Rod Power Tour 2004
Lambeau Stadium, Green Bay, WI

Lodging is a bit scant this weekend in Green Bay. Perhaps you came for the Jehovah's Witness convention, or the Bellin 10k race. Or maybe you were one of the thousands of people that are part of Hot Rod magazine's Power Tour. Each year, the "Long Haulers" drive from city to city over the course of a week to show off their muscle cars. Shelby Cobras, Vettes, Camaros, and even souped up station wagons. It's like 3000 episodes of Monster Garage at once.

Pig Delivery
Dreamland Restaurant & Motel
Gulliver, MI

Traveling in the Upper Peninsula (better known as the "U.P." to the locals) is sort of like going to Canada, except with more McDonalds. Once you cross over the Mackinac Bridge from Mackinaw City into the UP, the scenery changes to beautiful tree lined road with frequent vistas of adjacent Lake Michigan. Not wanting to succumb to the desires of the Golden Arches, I stopped over at the Dreamland Restaurant & Motel for what I hoped would be a healthy lunch.

My chicken sandwich turned out to be deep fried, and along with a side of fries and a coke, I was thankful for taking my cholesterol medication that morning. Ever since crossing into the UP, I kept seeing large signs for "pasties" at nearly every roadside diner. Figuring that they weren't hawking tiny nipple covers, I finally had to ask my waitress to clarify.

"I have a question for you," I stated.

"What's a pasty?" she replied with uncanny prescience, "You're not the first person to ask."

"Pasty" (pronounced like "nasty") is like a pot pie with ground pork and other vegetables. I couldn't actually bring myself to try one as it seemed like a sure way to give myself heartburn. But I did enjoy the conversation going on around me starting with the waitress that called everyone "hun," to the truck driver recounting how he paid an incredible $19 for a haircut in Des Moines. Suffice it to say that haircuts run a little more in New York City.

Just as I was about to pull away from the Dreamland, the meat semi started unloading, and lo and behold, there was an entire pig wrapped in plastic for next week's motorcycle rally. "We're gonna cook it up on a spit!" explained the owner. The truck driver's son was fascinated by my trip around the US, and proudly stuck out his hand for a handshake as I left.


Don't miss what seems to be a permanent yard sale on US 2W near the Manistique Lake turn off. All kinds of weird stuff including a rusted bunk bed, toilets, fences, the ever popular Son of Hibachi, and a bunch of gears that seemed extracted ill-advisedly. I couldn't find the owner, so I guess all transactions were on the UP honor system.


Stan Zellar has been logging the UP for thirty years. His company was the first logging company I've seen, and they were busy loading logs onto railcars to be transported to Wisconsin for a variety of purposes.

I passed a hand made sign for the "Cross in the Woods" going up I75 from Flint to Mackinaw City, proclaiming to the be the world's largest crucifix. Skeptical, but figuring that it was just another example of huge things in America (like the largest ball of twine), I took the exit and found myself in front of a large outdoor worship area adjacent to a church. It turns out that the whole site has an interesting history, and that the crucifix was only later added when parishoners commented how empty the large cross looked.

I'm not calling Michael Moore a liar, but he does has a way about his film-making that is a bit sensationalist, or at least, concentrates on making his point. I went to Flint, MI, expecting to find abandoned auto plants and depressed people, but Flint is doing ok considering its dependence on the auto industry. GM still has a bus/truck plant that sits adjacent to a powertrain plant. The security guard told me that her husband still works over at the Pontiac plant, but that's probably going to close in the next couple of years. Incidentally, if you ever want to feel uncomfortable, try showing up at the GM plant with a foreign car.

Horse Racing
Belmont Park, Belmont Stakes Weekend
Elmont, NY

I got the call a few days earlier from Eddie Adams teammate, Max Morse. Sports Illustrated photographer, Bill Frakes, was looking for another assistant for the Belmont Stakes, and Max wanted to know if I was interested in helping out. Without hesistation I accepted, not only because of the opportunity to work for the magazine, but also because it was a chance to witness racing history.

Smarty Jones was the 6th horse in eight years to try to go for the elusive Triple Crown of racing, last accomplished in 1978 by "Affirmed," and after winning the Kentucky Derby by 12 lengths, hopes were high for the horse to make racing history. As such, we set up over 40 cameras to make sure to get the shot.

Horse racing is an interesting sport, where horses foam at the mouth because their tongues are often tied down to prevent them from biting them off. Jockeys make up that small percentage of men that suffer from anorexia and bulimia to "make weight." And while the names of the winning horses are etched into history, the actual horses are relegated to less-than-desirable retirements.

We spent Friday securing photo positions and setting up remote cameras, and prayed for the dark skies on Saturday to hold as we checked and rechecked our cameras. In the end, the skies held off despite forecasts of rain, but down the stretch, with 120,000 fans screaming at the top of their lungs, Smarty Jones didn't have enough gas, and a 36-1 horse named "Birdstone" ran away with first place. We dreamed of getting the cover shot for Sports Illustrated, but in the end, Smarty will probably get a page or two in the magazine as another almost-was horse.

But the experience was exhilirating, and I met a number of cool people, and got to see the level of preparation that goes into getting the shot.