Don’t start ordering just yet, but we’re planning on at least EIGHT new jigsaw puzzles in the near future. I’ve been in the design process for the past few weeks and we’d like to share some now to get a bit of feedback. These are new in every way, smaller boxes, a free poster inside each box along with the puzzle. They’re the same sized puzzles, 18″x 24″, but the box is smaller to help with shipping and storage – storage for us especially as our little warehouse gets pretty packed sometimes.
El Malpais National Monument, New Mexico. This painting is on their park map and also as a visitor center exhibit.
After years of making interpretive puzzles from my park murals, we thought it was time to change it up, so here are the first designs. No name on the one below, but it’s Point Reyes National Seashore just north of San Francisco. This painting is on their park map.
Point Reyes National Seashore, Northern California
Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado.
And this one is from Mesa Verde in Colorado where the original painting hangs in the old historic museum. My dad worked here many years ago, so it has double meaning to me to see it in print in a new life.
I find it interesting how these things have found a way into my life. When we started making these many years ago, I never suspected here I’d be in 2020 making boxes of cut-up cardboard that people would collect, a LOT of people. And judging by the email we get, they are put back together again and again.
Thanks for reading this week. You can sign up for emails for these posts on my website at larryeifert.com, down the right side of the home page.
“Getting out there”, the mentally and physically healing immersion into wild nature is nothing new. Okay, I understand what it does for the soul, not to mention an aging body, but it cannot be understated. We’ve gotten to know the some quickie lowland Olympic hikes and this post is about an easy early-summer trail. A couple of years ago I painted this acrylic of the river beside that trail, its namesake. It shows the river crashing along during the early spring snowmelt. The photo below was taken close to the same place, a month and some years later, shot just a two days ago.
Some hikers passed us, going at a jog, all careful of the fact we were socially distancing. Everyone was passing like they should, like they were smart. All had snowshoes, gear for alpine efforts – that told me they were probably returning from Mt Constance a few miles west and vastly up. Decades ago, I, too, would have been running down the trail and aiming for a hamburger. Now? Not so much in a hurry. For our part, it’s not the act of getting there and back, although we did that, but rather appreciating nature on every step. We were already there, after all, every step of the way. Smelling for forest, feeling the rising humidity from the river, closely looking at details, hearing and feeling our surroundings is now what it’s all about.
In my later years, I’ve come to truly worship those details, the way a branch has become intertwined with moss, a columbine flower presenting itself to a pollinator. Taking an extra few minutes for some field sketching makes me intently focus even sharper, to see the mountain rising up ahead, how the glaciers carved this valley and where the trees seem to grow best – or the fire scars on hillsides where ancient burns came down the valley.
Nancy photographing some trail-side columbine.
On a sunny south-facing slope, I spotted some California hazel, a soft-leaved shrub I remember from my years of trails in the Trinity Alps and High Sierra. Hazel and cascara, another southern shrub were both here, remnants of warmer climates now past. It takes a lifetime of doing this stuff to quickly grasp these details, and it’s what I tend to focus on these days, the details. I’m not a botanist, I didn’t even take biology in school (how’d THAT happen?), but I love these mountains, any mountains, and want to understand how they work, who the characters are, why they’re here.
The physical world is still in charge, no matter what we think! I lost a good friend this past week, Ron Mastrogiuseppe, a former scientist and naturalist for the National Park Service. Ron was the first naturalist for Redwood National Park and over the years he taught me an appreciation for nature you don’t find in books. Sure, books are important to get you the basics, but in field observation you get the actually interaction of an ecosystem, right before your eyes. Ron was considered to be somewhat eccentric, but I’d call it more a heightened level of observation and deep believe in science. He is listed as discoverer of a tree species in the Sierra, along with his wife, Joy. Ron also found proof of the date Mount Mazama erupted, when Crater Lake was formed and reset our known history of that amazing lake. One doesn’t do that just reading books or watching TV, but actually going there in person. Ron founded Crater Lake Institute and commissioned many pieces of art from me. He helped me appreciate the details, and maybe more importantly, how the details really matter.
Science, it drives passion and love for things far beyond just walking past a shrub or two. Once I understood that, I was changed forever.
Upstream on the Dose – with the Olympics just beginning.
Thanks for reading this week. You can sign up for emails for these posts on my website at larryeifert.com, down the right side of the home page.
This was published in 48 North magazine last month. I thought the watercolor finished up nicely. This is the illustration part, below is the text that went with it. It was sort of a personal story for me.
“Growing up deep in ‘civilization’, I spent much time wishing to be in a wilderness somewhere, anywhere, and hearing the sounds of loons, owls and ravens. I still do that, but at least now I can get out there on a regular schedule. It’s important to me, and as life continues, the thrill of immersing myself in wildness is heightened by learning about it – and painting it. For me, loons are the embodiment of wild places, even if they aren’t exactly there when I see them. I saw one of these yellow-billed beauties recently off Port Townsend and was mentally transported, instantly, to a deep cove in Northern British Columbia, complete with grizzly tracks along the shoreline as they were being filled by a rising tide. I breathed the salt-saturated air, heard the peepers along the shore in a marsh, heard the loon’s mate calling out their ‘crazy laugh’, a tremolo no one never forgets. “
“Yellow-billed loons are the largest and heaviest loon, and difficult to identify in winter. Don’t use my painting to decide if what you’re seeing is a common loon or not. None are here in summer, but during winter and spring, these birds come to escape the harsh winters before returning in April to nest in the high arctic. There, both parents build a floating nest mound of muddy tundra vegetation along a lake’s shoreline and both incubate the eggs. The two chicks sometimes ride on their parent’s backs, even while diving for fish. Summer plumage changes them to dramatic black and white patterns that look like a broken diamond necklace that has been tossed at the bird, scattering all over its neck and back. They can be seen around the Salish Sea during April as they prepare to fly north for the summer.”
Just a few days ago I saw one of these birds on our daily 3-miles on the Pacific Northwest Trail. That’s right, I was hiking on a National Scenic Trail, except this one runs right through town and is only a mile away!
And here’s the original pencil drawing, pushed up just a bit with more contrast to make it pop better in a printed magazine. The watercolor was laid over it later.
Thanks for reading this week. You can sign up for emails for these posts on my website at larryeifert.com, down the right side of the home page.
Edging in towards final approval for this project has been going since my site visit last summer. This makes the third painting I’ve finished for National Park Service maps, and the list couldn’t be any different: Point Reyes California , El Malpais New Mexico, this one – and Glacier National Park in Montana is scheduled this summer.
This close-up section which should enlarge if you click on it. Here’s the brief back story: a highway now runs right through this scene, cutting the park in half. So, it was decided to make it look like it was 200 years ago – no highway, but all the same critters. Fort Matanzas is an old Spanish coastal fort, the reason for the park, but it’s also the LAST undredged river estuary on the entire east side of Florida – so they wanted a mural of nature instead of human history.
This will soon be the back of the park map, a publication that will be in the hands of about everyone who visits, then sticks it in the glove compartment of the rental car, takes it home.
And here’s the fort, cannons and all – including the barracks inside. The sketch below was drawn soon after I was there.
The site visit: Below is what happens when you take a camera from an air conditioned rental car into the 96% humidity of Florida in summer. Imagine a job that daily puts you out here with life jackets and bullet proof Kevlar vests – some of the rangers carried towels to constantly dry off with.
I learned a lot about this place. The sand here is a beautiful mix of shells and white powder. One of the ranger gave me an session in how it’s made. Coquina sand, the yellow s stuff is what becomes of these golden shells after they’re ground up in the surf, and of course that story had to be in the painting too. After 100 changes to the original art as we went along, I actually think it’s finished!
Thanks for reading this week. You can sign up for emails for these posts on my website at larryeifert.com, down the right side of the home page.
Down through the ’33’, a piece of forest that’s like a park. The name came from how much it cost.
Nancy and I are truly fortunate to have our own bit of nature here that’s big enough to actually camp in. Through the years, we’ve added to it, strategically bought chunks here and there, and now it’s a very tasty place to walk. So, since we’re supposed to stay home, how about a little backpack with Nancy as the supporting photographer and me as painter!
This patch of trilliums come up each spring, getting bigger each time and is at the start of a little loop that is really a complex bunch of deer trails. I have some new equipment, so, out we went with that new Six Moon Designs pack on to try out their new tent, a Lunar Duo. If I can’t do it up a mountain somewhere, I can try it out here.
Along the way, I tried to get a couple of small paintings going, just jestures of how it felt here on a warm spring day in a forest I know better than any. This huge big-leaf maple is a favorite of mine, a giant sprawling mass of life that changes each year as branches fall off in winter storms. A couple of years ago, a fawn was born here.
A little way down the deer trail this little scene unfolds. I made the trail a bit wider in the painting, hopefully the deer won’t notice.
My new Lunar Duo tent from 6 Moon Designs – a perfect tent for an old guy.
Here’s a little tent review for the Lunar Duo, a perfect ultralight two-person tent:
This tent is already a hit with me. Less than half the weight of my old standby, yet much bigger in size. For decades I’ve carried a free-standing tent, one with enough complicated poles that you wouldn’t want to put it together in the dark. The Lunar Duo comes in at 2.5lbs and uses one carbon fiber pole and my hiking stick, that’s it. (my old tent was about 6lbs. and had about 30 little poles all stuck together with bungies)
I’ve read this one takes some fiddling and adjusting to put it up, and requires ground soft enough for the titanium stakes, but that’s the same as the other one – I never camp on rocks and still had to connect it to the ground. With a floating floor, this was up in minutes and I was set for the night. The floating floor means it just floats around under you like a little water tight boat under a waterproof cover.
Thanks for reading this week. Stay well out there so you can join me in the next addition of this little journey. Art and nature, they go together well, even if you’re still at home.
All photos by Nancy Cherry Eifert using the old Nikon backpacking camera without post processing.
A couple of new watercolors to help me, and maybe you, too. Frustrating times, aren’t they, but the point here is that I’m doing some remembering that these beautiful places are still there, still lovely and only a few miles away. They’ll be there when we return to whatever is the new normal after this pandemic. In the meantime, I’m hunkered down, waiting for time to pass so Nancy and I can get out there and hike beaches that make me understand what’s really important. These places will be here, even if we’re not, and even long after I’m gone. For me, it’s a measure of comfort to remember this.
Shore Crab
As I get older, I seem to be regaining an understanding that this stuff really means a lot to me. Don’t get me wrong, it always has, it’s just that I realize I can still get out there and I damned well should. And making a little bit of art of my experiences makes me enjoy it twice. One experience when I was there, and a second time when I make a little painting about it. The painting can come from a location sketch, or a photo, but the main thing is that painting gets me to actually LOOK at the place, to see how the beach curves around the shore, how the colors reflect in the water, how the sunset brightens it all up to a warm orange instead of just blue and green.
Ruby Beach, extreme low tide
I also don’t think these need to be full-blown paintings you might frame and hang. Just putting it here on my website and blog means more eyeballs will see these than if they were framed and sold to a private buyer. It’s almost public art here – and I sure know a thing or two about that, don’t I, and here’s the difference: public art means committees – and these paintings were created by a committee of one. Me.
The Junior Ranger program is nationwide and in most National Parks. I’ve contributed to a few in the past, providing art for the activity books. If you don’t know, it works like this: your kiddo asks at the visitor center for the book, they fill out the fun pages of puzzles and questions, many requiring getting out in the park – then get the Junior Ranger badge when you turn it back in before you leave. It’s a big deal, with millions of kids involved. Now, a few of the bigger state parks are getting into the action, and I just finished some art for Deception Pass State Park here in Puget Sound. Here’s a link to the national program. https://www.nps.gov/kids/parks-with-junior-ranger-programs.htm
Deception Pass has many habitats, beach, dunes, old-growth forest, cliffs and freshwater lakes.
This page is about soil and the bacteria and fungi that live in it.
Cliffs near the bay have distinctive plants, like this gumweed.
Oystercatcher, orchre stars, clams and crabs are around the rocky tidepools.
Sandy dunes are shown here, with the San Juan Islands offshore.
This is the sixth project I’ve done for this park, a small place packed with beauty. It’s suffering from too many people and too much noise from Navy jets training right over the park, but I still like to make art about these places. It helps me connect to them. Good nature doesn’t always have to be wilderness.
Catchy happy dance! That’s because of this new yellow device clamped to me – filled with paint brushes and watercolor paper. My new gear from Six Moon Designs arrived and I’m beginning to try some of it out. (top photo of the Elwha River last week with winter water.)
For 2020 I’m being sponsored by Six Moon Designs in Oregon, a family company that makes award-winning ultralight camping equipment. Here’s the pack they sent me recently and this is the first try-out. What better place than where the Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail crosses Port Townsend on it’s way between Glacier National Park in Montana and Olympic NP to the west of us. It’s 1200 miles of some of the best scenery in America and it goes right through town.
I’d have to say, this appears to be the best pack I’ve ever had on my back. How many I’ve had total, I cannot say, but this one is the most comfortable and much of the time it didn’t even feel like it was back there at all. I loaded it up with all the dry gear I’ll be carrying this summer, which means everything except fluids and food, and it came in at about 15 lbs. That’s FIFTEEN pounds for the pack, sleeping bag, cook kit, sleeping pad, TENT and all the rest of the stuff it takes to travel comfortably in the backcountry for a few days.
A decade ago, my fully-loaded pack was about 40 lbs. I’m in my 70’s now, and the only way I can stay ‘out there’ is by traveling light. Thankfully, the camping industry has stayed with us older people and ultralight equipment is making my life easier each year. I wish I had this stuff decades ago.
This pack is their Fusion 65, a big pack for me but it’s still just a tad over 3 lbs, or about half of my former ones. It has a variety of shoulder harnesses and attachments to make it fit perfectly – and it does! It also has some thoughtful features, a roll top on the main bag to make it compress and be waterproof no matter how much you cram into it. It has 7 other pockets, enough to divide up your goodies, and four on the front I can get to while walking. Cue the snacks.
So, why is all this about art? For me, a painter or nature, it’s about getting out and staying out in wilderness as late into my life as possible. Day hikes are great, but nothing hits it for me than sleeping in a mountain meadow with the marmots and deer. It’s clearly a spiritual-thing, going to these untrammeled places. We may build churches to go inside where we close our eyes and try to find spiritual meaning, but isn’t it better to find the same thing with eyes open? For me, as it was with Muir and Thoreau, it’s sitting in a mountain meadow. I take my paints or at least a sketch pad, of course, because by running my hand around a page it heightens the experience about 10 fold. I see, really see what’s there – a real meditative pleasure I never get tired of. These days, I don’t believe anyone is too ‘old’ to do this, it’s simply a matter of getting passionate about it – and the rest will happen. 71 years ago, I got that passion right away and it simply hasn’t left. Questions about how a 73 year-old guy does this, just ask.
First solo camp at 2 years. Mom slept in the car but I didn’t know it.
Second large painting for Crater Lake Institute of the lake, 2010. It features whitebark pines, an endangered tree most know as beautiful and iconic to this place.
Just an update about a side project of mine. Oregon’s Crater Lake National Park has held a fascination for me for a very long time. I first came over the Rim in the early 1970’s and saw that stunning view of the lake – and have returned many times since. Then in 1998 Nancy and I produced a nature guide of the park and I got the chance to get to know the place on a deeper level. There’s a simple clean beauty here that stays with me. If you’ve been there, you know what I mean!
Then in 2016, I became the website guy for Crater Lake Institute, a group dedicated to the back story of the park. With decades of collective history, these guys had a website that needed help, and I had the skills to fix it. Today, CLI averages almost a million hits a month in summer, has 5000 images and 4000 pages of anything you’d ever want to know about the park. It’s a handful to maintain, I’m telling you, but it’s also taught me a lot about the place. We’ve partnered with REI’s hiking Hiking Project to share our trail knowledge and we hear the park staff regularly stops in to find stuff. It’s been a fun project.
Commissioned Paintings Below are some other paintings commissioned by Crater Lake Institute and their president, Ron Mastrogiuseppe. All these feature stressed environments caused by human interference. All enlarge with a click.
Yellowstone National Park, Grand Prismatic Hot Springs
Electric Peak in Yellowstone with a stand of Whitebark Pines in trouble.
Whitebark Pines in the Rocky Mountains
Check out the website when you have a few minutes. You’ll want to visit, I just know it.
Yesterday we were coming home to Port Townsend on our little ferry. Parked on the car deck and walked up to confront one of my paintings in jigsaw puzzle form right on the table in front of us. Perfect, said Nancy and proceeded to put the thing together. I mostly watched a gloriously calm sunset after a big blow in the morning that shut the boat down, but still added a few pieces to the effort. This is a painting I did for Mount Rainier National Park years ago and is still installed there, the main attraction to the Ohanapecosh Visitor Center. It’s also still a puzzle – and who knows how many of these things are floating around the world. Thousands.
Now, I know it’s a bit of a stretch to say this is actually ‘public art’, but bear with me. I first figured out how to put my better National Park art on puzzles in the 1990’s, first with a company from Germany, then we did it ourselves through a great group called Impact Photographics. It takes a pile of doubt or at least a credit score. Various others have made puzzles, too, and I’m guessing we’ve published over 80 different images. Currently, Nautilus Puzzles from California is actually making them out of real laser-cut wood that cost as much as some of my early paintings did!
These days, we’re not as aggressive with this, but still supply them to parks and stores. We once found one in Hawaii at the Pahoa Farmer’s Market under a pile of used clothes and books.
I’m not here to advertise buying puzzles, but instead to just say that this sure has been a wide and complex life. I have painting projects going on right now about restoring Northwest salmon, a bison mural in South Dakota, a Florida project involving dolphins and octopus, nesting terns and sharks. I’m proud to say I’m sponsored by a great backpacking equipment company called Six Moon Designs that help get me out there in comfort, and by a truly wonderful partner. Nancy keeps it all running behind the scenes as well as on the road – or on the ferry.
I guess what this post is all about is for me to just say thanks to everyone for all of this. It takes an amazing number of consistently interested people to keep our little lifestyle going for all these decades. I wish I could give back, but with the next paintings in progress, maybe I am.
