JOURNEY TO WINTER

In this land that has sometimes been called "the land of the sun," winter-good, old-fashioned winter as folks know winter in other parts of the country which boast less sunny labels can be visited in the high mountains. Here the snow is deep. Silence of winter grips the land. This silence is broken by the winds of intermittent storms that fortunately pile the snow higher and higher-moisture stored to await spring thaws so that dams below will be filled to feed water during hot summer months to farm lands reclaimed from the thirsty desert. The errant mountain road, that knew the companionship of traveler in spring, summer and autumn, rests under a deep snow blanket; so deep it would be difficult to follow the road's path. In a few places cumbersome snow plows, snorting with fury, keep a road open, prevailing against the will of winter, opening the mountain solitude to the winter sports lover. 'Winter is down such roads as these. The snow is pure, white and clean, glistening in the sun. The sun rays, reflected from the snow, are of searing brightness. Despite the chilly air, they manage to give warmth to those making a journey to winter.

THIS PAGE "Road To Mt. Lemmon" near Tucson ESTHER HENDERSON OPPOSITE PAGE "SNOWBOUND ROAD" BY ESTHER HENDERSON. This is the Bear Wallow road atop Mt. Lemmon, heavily laden with a three-foot snow-blanket. The snowstorm ended the previous afternoon thus allowing the road grader to clear the main highway up the mountain. Having the road cleared the night before, it was possible to get to the mountain crest early in the morning to photograph the shrouded trees and drifts before a thaw. Picture was taken about 8 a.m. in March; in spite of the heavily-shadowed area and early hour, the Weston meter registered a light value of 400 and exposure was based on this reading. Equipment: 5x7 Deardorff View Camera, Goerz Dagor lens, Ektachrome film, 1/5th second at f.29.

The branches of stately mountain trees bend under the burden of the heavy snow that fell the night before. Sometimes the snow is so heavy the branches cannot support the weight. The branches snap and the noise of the breaking branches sounds like the report of a pistol shattering the stillness of winter. When the sun rises higher, the snow melts on the branches. Dripping water digs holes in the whiteness under the tree. Where the snow had been, the needles of the trees shine brightly in the sun, the mountain air heavy with their fragrance. As afternoon wanes, the chill in the air turns the dripping water from the trees into ice. In the last light of day, when the trees cast long shadows, it seems as if the trees had been magically and majestically adorned with rare and precious jewels. Night and silence comes to the mountain solitude. If there is a moon, the moonlight makes a path of gold through the snow. If the moon is bright, shadows of the trees are eerie patterns of blue light in the path of gold.

Here is a breath-taking view from the General Hitchcock Highway to Mt. Lemmon, about 20 miles from Tucson. It was taken in early March, 1953, after a snow flurry travelled across southern Arizona. The photographer caught the scene with his 4x5 Speed Graphic, f4.7 Ektar lens. It was snapped at 1/10th second at f.16 on Daylight Ektachrome with a Kodak Sky Filter. The snow-capped mountain peaks in the far distance are the Galiuros about 50 miles away. The deep crease in the center of the valley is the bed of the San Pedro River. The beautiful pines that frame the scene and cling to these northeast slopes of the Santa Catalina Mountains are giant Ponderosas.