markmarchesi.com

I’m afraid this old blog has grown a little too tired.  It is so far behind the current Wordpress versions updating is no longer an option.  The interface is borderline archaic and none of the modern plugins are compatible.  So the only thing to do is start a new blog.  Introducing… markmarchesi.com/blog2/

All of my content will remain up on this url (…/blog/) , but moving forward I will only be posting on the new one.  Thanks for reading.

Video still from Jordan Hot Springs; Gila Wilderness, NM 2003

Recently, while waiting my turn at the barber shop, I picked up a copy of Outside Magazine and came across a fun little article.  They put together the top hikes ending in a number of different scenarios - one of which was natural hot springs. I was proud to see that out of the four or five mentioned I had been to all but one.  The best in my opinion being Jordan Hot Springs in the Gila Wilderness Area of New Mexico.  The short description of the hike brought me right back to that day.

The first hot spring I ever visited was in Oregon during my junior year of college, although I had been enamored by the idea of these kinds of places since doing a report on Iceland in fourth grade.  Since then I’ve tried to hike to as many natural pools as possible throughout my travels in the Western US, and made it a point to stop over in Reykjavik on trip to the UK just so I could pay homage to the Blue Lagoon (among other mind blowing geographic features in the area).

Blue Lagoon; Iceland 2005

The Gila Wilderness covers 3.3 million acres in southwest New Mexico.  It is home to incredible cliff dwellings, and a range of different landscapes.  Jordan Spring is several miles from the nearest trail head.  Getting there requires dozens of river crossings (I wore neoprene surfing booties for most of the hike) and leads you through Little Bear Canyon - a gorge so deep and narrow that for most of the way you have to look directly up to see even a sliver of sky.  Signs warn against entering during any threat of flash floods.  The canyon empties into Middle Fork River (which meanders through it’s own equally impressive canyon) and the pool is nestled a little ways up on the bank a couple more miles upstream.

After spending the early morning exploring the cave dwelling national monument, I packed my bag for a one night stay and headed out on Trail 729 toward the spring.  I passed one pair of hikers along the way, on the yellow grassy rim of the slot canyon, just before beginning the steep descent.  They were the only people I would see until just before nightfall.  Arriving at the hot spring in the late afternoon I pitched my tent on a small patch of semi level ground on the heavily wooded bank, then stripped down for a soak.  The pool was around 90 degrees, maybe 3 ft deep and 12 ft in diameter, with a flat gravel bottom.  In short, it was ideal - not as hot as I’d anticipated, but soothing nonetheless.  Ferns and other greenery draped over the moss covered rocks that defined the perimeter.  The water was crystal clear and the slightest amount of steam hovered above the surface.

A little later, while enjoying a view of the last orange sunlight disappearing from the tops of the tallest cliffs across the river, my solitude was broken by the arrival of two young hikers stopping to set up camp for the night.  After a few moments I got out of the pool, dried off, and went over to introduce myself.  I can’t recall their names without digging up my road journal from that year, but they were a couple of recent high school graduates working their way back home to Alabama after a couple months on the road.  On the outside they seemed unlikely companions - one with long dread locked hair and baggy corduroys, and the other more of the jeans and baseball cap type.  But as we talked I learned they were childhood friends and shared a world view despite conflicting appearances.  They were both taking some time off from school and got together to do some traveling.  They were clocking serious miles in the Gila Wilderness; this being their fifth day on the trail.

As it turned out they had just taken an epic journey through Baja, and one of my goals on that trip was to do the same.  So a lot of our fireside chats that night revolved around their Mexican adventure.  Alabama was one of only five or six states I hadn’t been to at the time, so they described the area surrounding their hometown and the predominate mindset of their peers and elders.  Of course I shared my Yankee perspectives, and after a couple hours of interesting conversation we all retired for the night.

When I woke up in the morning the air was crisp and still - probably not too far above freezing.  The sun hadn’t yet made it into the gorge, and steam poured from the perpetually hot pool.  My new young friends were ready to hit the trail by the time I climbed out of my tent, so we said our goodbyes and they departed.  After one more long and quiet soak I packed up and headed back to the car.  Then drove out the Gila Wilderness and New Mexico, bound for the Pacific.

Some shots from a recent week long respite in the Pemaquid Point area, along with a couple side trips to Monhegan Island and more.

View of the village on Monhegan from the lighthouse

Sunrise on Biscay Pond; Bristol, ME

Sunset on John’s Bay; Bristol, ME

Elephant by Jon Byrer

Fins I made for my new 6′6″ twin keel fish by Josh Moody of Monroe Surf Company

Jon and Bluto

Lobster Roll at the Pemaquid Lobster Co-op

Moonrise on Biscay Pond

Taxidermy Puffin at the Monhegan Island Museum

Seal Rocks, Gulf of Maine

Seaweed beds, Pemaquid Point, ME

Yesterday I picked up this handy little tool for stitching straps onto my hand planes.  It is a lock stitching awl, and I honestly don’t remember the last time I was this excited about a new tool.  I got it at Hamilton Marine in Portland.  I love marine supply stores - the way they smell like fiberglass resin and new electronics, and the partially organized chaos of gear that inhabits every aisle.

I’ve been spending a fair amount of time lately shopping around at such stores.  Not because I finally got a boat unfortunately - but to browse wood finishes, epoxy, brass hardware, etc. for hand planes.  And it has been bringing back memories.

In high school I worked for the marine supply giant Defender Industries.  Defender is a family run mail order business, but they used to have a retail location next to the warehouse - which at that time was in New Rochelle, NY.  Our neighbor was an owner and offered me a job at the store, in the rope department.

This section occupied a corner of the store with five aisles containing fenders, anchors, zincs, and mooring hardware.  On one wall a break in the metal shelving gave way to a door leading into a shed-like hovel of a room with floor to (low) ceiling of spooled line - every line in every thickness you can imagine.  And off of the first room was an even deeper hobbit hole housing bolts of Sunbrella fabric, canvas, and fiberglass cloth along all four walls, and a small rolling cutting table in the center.  This plywood and two by four den was affectionately known as “The Rope Room” .

When I was hired the department was managed by a small, round man named David.  He shared a last name with a prominent figure in the federal government who was said to be his Uncle.  But David was clearly cut from a different cloth than his uncle.  In fact (as I found out later) he was highly dependent on prescription as well as street narcotics.  He would come into work in the morning flying high and have us both working on several projects at once.  Then by lunchtime he would fall fast asleep in a chair hidden in the back corner of the rope room.

On one such afternoon our tall, gawky, intelligent, musician by night General Manager Eric walked in on him snoozing and fired him on the spot.  Leaving me, at the ripe age of 17, solely responsible for the Defender Industries retail store rope department.  It was a fun job, made more interesting by the rest of the thirty-something cast of characters who worked there.

“Noodles”, a balding, pale sailor who lived on his humble boat on a mooring off City Island, ran the hardware counter - a long glass counter backed by an enormous peg board stocked with every type of stainless and brass sail hardware amagineable.  “Johnny Electric”, a short, long haired, Hispanic rocker dude with a wispy mustache was of course was in charge of the electronics department.  Paint and resin was headed up by a young guy who’s name escapes me.  But I remember his carefully feathered mullet and tight t-shirt-tucked-into-jeans like it was yesterday.  He was into body building and was a highly trained martial artist, but despite a tough exterior was a polite and extremely knowledgeable source to customers.

The clothing department was run by a clean cut guy who kept to himself named Cedric.  This was around the time Nautica was making the shift from boating gear to mainstream fashion, and Helly/Hansen was a brand completely unknown outside of the nautical community.  The only ladies in the place were the cashiers - a big, smiling African-American woman and a thin, cynical white girl who were roommates and commuted up to New Rochelle from Co-op City.

We all communicated by walkie talkie.  There were separate channels for the retail store and the warehouse, so the entire Defender inventory which covered tens of thousands of square feet was accessible simply by putting a call out on the radio and waiting for a response.  In a place where it was amazing that anyone knew where anything was, you could pretty much satisfy any request that came in the door.

When stock got low I would stroll down to the warehouse with a list of items, gather them into the freight elevator, and they’d be loaded onto a van later that day bound for retail store.  One day I got trapped in the elevator and one of several Jamaicans that worked up there pulling orders had to climb down the chute and pop the latch to get me out.  They heckled me constantly after that (and before that too).

I did my best to keep my aisles stocked well, but with so many different shapes and sizes of each item it was nearly impossible.  Especially since I had no clue what most of them were for.  And I believe that’s how it is for most Marine Supply stores.  They always seem to be staffed by a diverse cast of characters constantly fighting the tide of inventory, and barely keeping the millions of pieces in a somewhat orderly fashion on the shelves.  And I love seeing that because it will always remind me of those days at Defender.

New subject: Tidal mud flats.  I’ve always been interested in tides.  The massive amount of pull that the moon must have on Earth in order to move the oceans in such a way is amazing.  And I am fascinated by the way low tide can transform a landscape by revealing vast mud flats, draining estuaries, and exposing shallow reefs.

Strangely enough, I have never turned this subject into a focus of my photography.  Until now.  Here are a couple recent examples shot with digital.  Their large format film counterparts are coming soon.

1.2 ft low @ 7:13 pm; Knight’s Landing, South Portland, ME

-1.6 ft low @ 6:14 am; Fore River, South Portland, ME

It’s been a foggy, misty, rainy several days.  I like the greens and rich browns that show themselves in this filtered light.

I’ve always thought it sad that some of the most beautiful flowers of early spring are so short lived.

I would really like to know what lives down that hole.  Truthfully, it made me a little nervous to be in that position.

It’s mornings like this that make me feel like a lucky, lucky man.

I sprang out of bed at around 5:30 without an alarm.  A fun size swell running with favorable wind and tide triggered my internal clock to rise at dawn.  I made my way to the beach and wasn’t the least bit disappointed.  Not only were shoulder high sets lining up on the horizon but the air was mild and the morning light was incredible.

On the downside, the water is still shockingly cold.  So after getting sufficiently high on the beauty of sunrise, a couple smacks in the face with frigid walls of water was quite sobering.  But the good thing about a hooded 6 millimeter wetsuit is that when your face is not submerged you don’t even feel the cold.  And it is so buoyant that between sets I sometimes push my board aside and float on my back sensory deprivation tank style and stare at the sky.  Watching seagulls while being massaged by the ocean’s surface.

Sitting in a spot where over the past couple months I’ve found a really good left hand peak has formed I was able to score several waves similar the one pictured directly above.  On a couple of them my drop came late and I ended up a little behind; the pocket just out of my reach.  But on several I managed to be in the right place at the right time and got them for all they were worth.  That is a good feeling.

And to top it all off - I leisurely came in from my session, changed out of my suit, snapped a few pics, and still arrived home around the time my family was getting up.  So we got the kids ready, went out to breakfast and proceeded with our Saturday agenda of cleaning, shopping, ballet class, yard work, and plenty of outdoor play.  I am a lucky man.

Since I jumped on the Facebook band wagon I have been posting all my digital images there and forsaking about the old blog.  But everything on FB is fleeting.  It’s a now you see it, now you don’t sort of realm where you can never really know who is paying attention to what.  Here I know that if someone happens to stop for a moment they will for sure see at least the five or six most current entries.

So here are some recent images from my FB wall which will enjoy a little more permanence and maybe even wider exposure here.  To my “friends,” I apologize for the redundancy

When I clocked 250K miles in my 300TD

10-15ft surf at Pond Cove in Cape Elizabeth

Our only snowman of the season.  And I found a use for my broken hood ornament.

Some images from the installation of Slack Water at Space Gallery.

The opening reception for my current exhibition Slack Water is tonight at Space Gallery in Portland.  The show is on view through May 26th and I designed a catalog in conjunction which is available for sale here through Blurb for a limited time.  I will be posting installation images within the next week.