After three beautiful days in Milan, not enough of course, we moved northwest from Milan for my job photographing the annual CEO Summit for the Consumer Electronics Association at Lago Maggiore, Italy. I’ve photographed many CEA conferences over the years but this was by far the most special. The hotels where the conference was held were in Stresa, a lovely town on the western shore of Lake Maggiore in extreme northwestern Italy. The magnificent, mountain scenery was marred by smog from who knows where. A few days earlier, from the air, I saw it clouding the mountain valleys of the French Alps as we approached Milan by plane from the west. This was unfortunate as the mountains rising from the lake provide a spectacular backdrop.

Lago Maggiore straddles the border of Italy and Switzerland. The towns surrounding the lake date back centuries with the majority of buildings seemingly from the 19th century. The lovely, alpine setting and its mild climate have made Lake Maggiore a tourism mecca for a very long time, influencing the towns and architecture. A visit to Lago Maggiore and an audience with the then current head of the ancient Borromeo family was a de rigeur stop on the Grand Tour undertaken by 19th century aristocracy.

Large, elegant villas line the shore, reflecting the lake’s aristocratic heritage. The Borromeo family, one of Europe’s oldest families, has maintained residences in the area for centuries. The family’s influence is seen everywhere in the surroundings of Stresa including one of the hotels where the conference was held, the Grand Hotel Des Ille Borromees. Built around 1850, it is an elegant expression of La Belle Epoch, some would say an over the top expression.

The Borromeo family owns four small islands in the lake. The Borromeo palace is located on Isola Bella which also contains  a small community and the palace’s impressive gardens. One of our activities was a tour of this 17th century palace and gardens. Members of the family were in residence, but in a private part of the palace inaccessible to the public.

The Roman roots of the Borromeo family can be traced all the way back to 66 CE. It came into prominence in 1367 during the Ghibelline Revolt against the Florentine Guelphs. A father and son in succession became Cardinal and Archbishop of Milan, the son later canonized in 1610. One off-shoot married into the Medici family. During the 16th century, most of North Central Italy was known as the Borromeo State with the family holding full political and military power.

Our visit, though short, allowed a taste of the elegance from a former time.

Grand Hotel Et Des Ille Borromees

The Regina Palace Hotel

Approaching Isola Bella

The Borromeo Palace and the village on Isola Bella

Restaurants and souvenir shops are set among the houses and church of Isola Bella.

The lower level of the palace are a series of grottos, now galleries, with the walls and ceilings decorated in this strange, shell-like texture and motifs. In pre-air conditioner days, they provided a relatively cool place for the family while away the hot, summer days.

  Part of the family’s private gardens.

 The majority of the once private gardens are open to the public. The stairs lead to a broad terrace

with panoramic views of the lake and mountains.

Isola dei Pescatori, Fisherman’s Island. With part of Stresa along the shore in the background.

Lago Maggiore is also a place for destination weddings. Here, a bride from somewhere in Asia,

is photographed along the lake shore as the groom looks on.

One of the conference dinners was held at the Ristorante Piccolo Lago, a Michelin two star restaurant.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

Nothing can be more iconic of Milan than her gorgeous Duomo especially seen just after dusk on a lovely Autumn evening.

I was very fortunate that one of my clients, the Consumer Electronics Association, CEA for short, brought me along to photograph their 2011 CEO Summit held this year in Stressa, Italy on the shore of Lago Maggiore in northwestern Italy. I’ve photographed the CEO Summits for a number of years but this was the first time outside the U.S..

The Northern Italian city of Milan is the natural arrival point for travel to the lakes along the Swiss border. Lake Maggiore, a half hour train ride from the city is the westernmost and lies somewhat parallel to perhaps more famous Lake Cumo. Having always wanted to visit Milan and it’s most famous of all Italian opera houses, La Scala, a few days there before my job were imperative. Milan has the reputation for being an industrial city. That might be true, but its credentials as a center and arbiter of fashion are unquestioned.

While strolling the streets of the fashionable city center, store windows of Italy’s most famous labels compete for the eye. And better, at least for me, is checking out the many beautiful women stylishly walking outside the restaurant while I partake of an early supper.

Art too, holds its claim. The architectural masterpieces of the Duomo and its 19th century neighbor, the Galleria Phillip Emanuel? are astounding side by side. The museums of the Sforza Palace contain treasures and masterworks from Milan’s history along with a trove of unique and beautiful musical instruments. An entire afternoon can be spent wandering among the poignant and majestic tombs of the Cementerio Maggiore. In my experience, only the monuments of Buenos Aires’ Recoleta can compete on this world-class stage of after-worldly opulence.

And then, there is one of the most famous paintings in the long, accomplished and magnificent history of Italian art, painted by perhaps Milan’s most famous adopted son on the wall of an un-prepossessing refectory attached to the luscious Chiesa Santa Maria delle Grazie, Leonardo DaVinci’s Last Supper.

Plus, there seems to be music every night. Major music. If the current offering at La Scala doesn’t appeal or if a decent seat can’t be had, concerts by Europe’s finest musicians and symphony orchestras abound.

And everywhere, Gellaterias entice with their delicious and imaginative Italian ice creams.

Time, very well spent.

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

Lovely late afternoon light on the front facade of the Duomo.

Door panel detail-Milan's Duomo.

A chapel in one of the transcepts in the Duomo.

Galleria Vittoria Emanuele II

Sforza Palace fortification and typical 19th century apartment building.

In the Sforza Palace.

The hall of armory.

A beautifully, crafted lute thingamajig in the musical instrument collection-Don't ask me how you play it.

An Aussie performing in the courtyard of the Sforza Palace on a Hang, an instrument with an amazing, hypnotic sound very similar to a Jamaican steel drum.

Santa Maria delle Grazia.

In the Santa Maria dell Grazie we stumbled upon this visiting Russian orchestra and chorus rehearsing for that night's performance. Exceptional music making!

The streets of Milan are rife with the scourge of graffiti. Dogs pissing on fire hydrants as I like to say. Occasionally, something interesting can be found amidst the scrawls.

In the Cementerio Maggiore.

From the "Great War".

Stacked niches 20-30 feet high in mauseleums both above and below ground went on for miles.

As the sun goes down on our final night along the streets of the Piazza Duomo.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

It’s been a beautiful but busy summer at Hummingbird Knob. When not at home in Vail leading the Vail Nature Center Photography workshops and attending concerts by the Dallas Symphony, Philadelphia Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic at the Bravo Music Festival, we were at our property in western Colorado, Hummingbird Knob.

Several things made for an especially memorable summer. In June, while down at the gate waiting for a delivery of wood for the pergola I added onto Nana’s Cabin, I saw a Wolverine cross the field about 125 yards away. This is a very big deal. Sightings of wolverines are extremely rare. The first wolverine ever seen in the history of Rocky Mountain National Park was only a few years ago! I have no doubt it was a wolverine.

Then in mid-July, we were visited by three Red-tailed Hawk fledglings. I had been watching their nest, watching the parents bring food to the chicks, hoping to see them flying around after they fledged and left the nest. Returning from Vail one Monday afternoon, I went to where I could see the nest only to find it empty. Then, I was extremely surprised to find one of the baby hawks almost at my feet! Over the course of the next few days we I got to see and photograph each of the three young hawks up close and very personal, even having one join us for cocktails one evening.

Later in the summer, I found a note on our gate from a mountain lion researcher who wanted to track a collared lion he’d been tracking for months. I was able to join him several times as he used his GPS to find the sites where she had stashed and eaten her kill. He is a professional tracker and I learned a lot from him about tracking and about mountain lion behavior. Fascinating stuff!

So, it’s been another wonderful summer at Hummingbird Knob.

Rufus in intimidation mode.

Rufus is one  of the many Rufous Hummingbirds that return every summer. Three other species make our land their summer home; Broad-Ttailed, Black-Chinned and Caliope Hummingbirds. But Hummingbirds have clearly been mis-named. They really should be called Squabblebirds ’cause that’s all they do, squabble and fight. I like to say that if all I ate was sugar and bugs, I’d be irritable too.

Wilbur and Wilma Wren return every year to raise their young in our sun.

Loads of deer find safe haven around our land.

Nana's Cabin and it's new pergola.

Green Gentian grow to over six feet in height.

We get some pretty amazing lichen and some wonderful moss rocks.

Some squirrels made their nest on my solar shower. When I uncovered it for the summer, three frightened, little youngsters held on for dear life.

One of the babies hiding out beneath the shingles on the shower. I hope their mother was able to collect them and take them to safety.

A Fuzzy Wuzzy. That's what they call them around here. I don't know it's real name.

Yes, we do have mountain lions. I've never seen one, just tracks every once in a while. Yolanda believes she saw one on the road one evening while she was taking a walk.

Casey checking out Chipeta's kill.

Casey, a mountain lion researcher left a note on our gate one day wanting access to track a collared female lion, Chipeta, he’d been tracking since February. Chipeta was collared some fifty miles away, had a cub that was likely killed by a tom, a male lion, (they do those sorts of things). Heading southeast, she crossed I-70, then Highway 6, swam the Colorado River, climbed over 10,000 foot Battlement Mesa and ended up around us. Amazingly, she has a real taste for Porcupines. Here, Casey is checking the marrow of a fawn she got. Later that week, I went out with him again to find a buck that she had taken only to find that she had been driven off her kill by a bear who finished her meal.

A several month old fawn near Nana's Cabin.

This is the second year Cory and Cordelia have raised a brood here. They're Cordilleran Flycatchers.

This is Herbie. He probably fledged that morning.

I was amazed at how vulnerable he was. Obviously, he and his siblings could fly from the nest, probably making a crash landing but they didn’t seem to be able to get off the ground for a couple days after that. I found each one at different times and different places over three days. They weren’t hard to find sometimes because they would be crying for the parents and all I had to do was follow their cries.

Henrietta was out in the open and oh so vulnerable.

The parents were screeching at me all the time I was taking pictures but didn’t do anything to try to drive me away. Henrietta’s got a bit of a wound on her breast, probably from flying into the end of a branch. Of course, I have no idea whether she or the others are male or female. This shot really shows off the new feathers though the feathers on their heads weren’t filled in making them look a bit odd.

Howie joined us for margaritas one evening. He just sat on the rock completely at ease for about fifteen minutes before waddling off into the bushes.

Here’s a short two minute video I shot on my iPhone of Howie joining us for cocktails. Click on the link below.

Baby Hawk

Late summer and the chipmunks stuff themselves with acorns, squirreling them away for winter.

Our valley is a rainbow generator. You can just discern the double rainbow above this one.

The center of the Milky Way. We're far away from any lights so the sky on a moonless night is spectacular.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

How does one express their first impressions of this magnificent city? And during what a pitifully short time can one even say they’ve even experienced Paris? A day and a half is woefully inadequate. Unfortunately, that is all I had for my first visit to Paris. And it was a glorious day and half–the weather perfect, the evening balmy. Strolling along the Seine, wandering the Tuileries Gardens, exploring a tiny bit of the Louvre’s astounding collections, confronting the mammoth magnificence of the Eiffel Tower and tasting a morsel of Paris’ famous cafes is about all one can manage.

Yet, due to the wealth of beauty and design, the images I found capture the iconic nature of this City of Light. Certainly there are cliche’s in the bunch, perhaps most of them. One can’t help but create clichés. Literally everything has been photographed 10,000 or 100,000 or even a million times over. But, I hope to have brought something from my unique, highly-honed perspective to the mix. And I can honestly say, my interpretation of La Gioconda, the Mona Lisa, you’ll find at the end of this post, truly captures a bit of the absurd frenzy surrounding this most iconic of paintings.

Pont Neuf, my first view of the incredible Seine.

One of Paris' iconic book sellers along the Seine.

Pont de Arts and the Bibliothèque Mazarine

The courtyard of the Louvre.

In the Jardin des Tuileries

Cliche' of Tuileries lovers.

Late afternoon in the Jardin des Tuileries.

Place de la Concorde

Dusk along the Place de la Concorde

Night cliche' of the Seine.

The gorgeous lights of the Louvre.

Leaving the metro and approaching the Eiffel Tower I find myself (at least it kinda looks like me), depicted on an enormous scale in an ad for Australia. I think I should sue.

Breakfast by the Eiffel Tower--delicious pastries and quiche. Taking in the grandeur and complexity of this architecture and technological masterpiece.

You've seen so many images of this Paris icon yet nothing can prepare you for its shear size and massive, structural complexity.

Oh yes, I too had to do the "postcard shot". Had the day not been hazy, we would have ascended with the hoards to be astonished but the view. But, another time.

The Louvre--Architectural detail of the entrance through the pyramid.

Modern and classical. Architectural detail of the Louvre.

Detail abstract of the ceiling inside the Louvre's pyramid.

A magnificent ceiling inside the Louvre.

A Grecian statue from the Louvre's vast collection.

In the apartments of Napoleon III.

The modest dining room of Napoleon III.

Abstract from the huge underground shopping mall beneath the Louvre.

The Apple Store in the Louvre. Here, as with every Apple Store I've been in, people congregate in droves to play with the technology.

And finally, my interpretation of the Mona Lisa…

The Mona Lisa is absolutely THE must-see object in the Louvre. She’s on every tour groups itinerary. For those who have visited the gallery in which the Mona Lisa hangs, no words are necessary. To the uninitiated; after walking down a very long gallery past scores and scores of true, Renaissance masterpieces, you turn into another gallery packed with tourists from all over the world. People elbow their way through the throngs to get close enough to lift their cameras or phones above the heads and cameras of those in front, snap their picture and then elbow their way back out. Proof positive that they’ve been to Paris and “seen” the Mona Lisa. It was hilarious, beyond absurd.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

Driving deeper and deeper into the forested countryside, I wonder what awaits. It’s getting dark and I hope I can figure out all the turns as I navigate through the small towns and tiny villages of southern France. We made arrangements at a farm/B&B an hour north of the city of Bordeaux, beyond the normal tourist routes. The roads become narrower and the villages tinier the closer we get.

In the last light of day, across a green, flower-filled meadow, set amidst tall trees, we see the stone buildings of Ferme Auberge La Gabaye, www.lagabaye.com. Several cows interrupt their quiet munching to watch us pass. Christianne, the energy-filled proprietress, greets us warmly, showing us to the little guesthouse that will be our home for the next ten days.

Christianne, who speaks very little English, manages to communicate that breakfast will be ready the following morning whenever we happen to awaken. It’s been a long travel day and we fall into the downy coziness of the comfortable bed.

Breakfast is a continental affair with the typical coffee and baguettes. But Christianne’s homemade cherry, grapefruit and rose-petal jams make it special.

According to Nathalie, Christianne’s daughter who speaks excellent English and helps run the Auberge, the farm has been in the family for over two hundred years. She does her best to facilitate communication despite her obvious neck pain after being broadsided the day before by a driver from la-la land.

Nathalie has traced the family history here back to 1680 and explains that their village, La Petite Glaive, had more inhabitants prior to WWII but suffered much damage during the war. Now, the village is a collection of widely dispersed, old farmhouses and a few newer homes set in a landscape of lush fields, gardens and thick forests.

The first day is spent exploring around the ancient town of Guitres, as recounted in the previous article. Upon returning, Christianne is busily preparing dinner. Relaxing before dinner with a glass of the farm’s red wine beneath the many fruit and nut trees is close to heaven. The quiet is broken only by the calls of birds and the breeze through the trees. Not far away, a cuckoo calls, sounding exactly like the eponymous clocks.

The bell rings and dinner is served. First, an aperitif-delicious, sweet and fruity, followed by homemade pate’ de foie gras and fresh bread. The main course is succulent confit de canard, leg of duck seasoned and preserved in the local manner, surrounded by fresh, locally-grown vegetables. Confit is a speciality of southwestern France. It was developed centuries ago as a way of preserving meats and Christianne is a master. Served with generous amounts of the farm’s wine and topped off with a delicious pear tort or a luscious custard, it is heaven and a prelude of meals to come–authentic, down-home, French-country cuisine.

During the long, slow dusk following dinner, a walk up the deserted road provides an opportunity to see close up the few farmhouses and gardens of the village and experience the sense of timeless peace in the idyllic quiet of the Dordogne countryside.

Every meal is a gastronomic experience in regional cuisine, always beginning with a different, delicious, homemade aperitif. The main courses vary but duck is frequent. An omelet of farm-fresh eggs with local, wild mushrooms is a highlight.

One meal though, remains especially memorable. In the large fireplace in her kitchen, Christianne builds a small fire of dried, grape vines pruned from her vineyard. They quickly turn to coals over which she places a grate and proceeds to grill an ample duck breast. This is a local specialty. When done and sliced into medallions, the duck is succulent with a unique, smoky flavor.

After a few days, I discover Christianne’s root and wine cellars. Yes, there are many bottles of wine, but also shelf after shelf and room after room of canned fruits, vegetables, confits, pates, sauces and jams, not to mention the baskets and baskets of hazel and walnuts strewn around. It is a cornucopia of canning and a glimpse into regional farm life over the centuries.

La Gabaye is located only an hour from Saint-Emilion, one of France’s premier wine growing regions. Vineyards are everywhere. Old Chateaus dot the hilltops. The opportunities for sampling regional wines are endless as are the opportunities for exploring the other wonders of the Bordeaux region.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

Descending the medieval lanes of Saint-Emilion, France.

The brilliant sunshine of a southern France spring plays across vast, rolling fields of venerable grape vines. Row upon row march up and over the undulating landscape of the Dordogne Valley with military precision. Where the land is flat, their perfectly straight files disappear into distant trees or perhaps one of the many, age-old Châteaus dotting the horizon and hilltops. In the distance, an ancient steeple among a cluster of stone buildings rises out of the vineyards denoting a village.

A typical village in the Dordogne Valley near Saint-Emilion.

Driving the two lane, back roads of northeastern Bordeaux is a journey into 18th century France. The landscape has changed little over the centuries-a few, widely dispersed towns, tiny villages set among vast battalions of bright, green vines, here and there islands of trees, and of course, the ubiquitous, elegant Châteaus.Market day in the town of Libourne on the way to Saint-Emilion.

A baker in his mobile boulangerie selling scrumptious breads on market day in Libourne.

Blossoming rose bushes adorn the ends of many rows. Besides providing a contrasting touch of color, they act as sentinels for disease and fungus, an early warning system telling the farmer of possible problems in his vineyard.

Occasional signs along the road announce various Châteaus, inviting the traveler to taste their wines, have dinner or spend the night. It is impressive to see signs for some of the most famous wines in the world. Narrow lanes between the vines lead to the elegant facades of Château Ausone, Château Cheval Blanc, Château Figeac, Château Magdelaine, and Clos Fourtet, all members of the elite classification, Premiers Grands Crus Classés.

The ruins of an ancient church greets visitors as they approach Saint-Emilion.

The town of Saint-Émilion, the center of the world famous Appellation Saint-Émilion Controlee and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, lies now only a few kilometers away. The Bell Tower of its ancient, monolithic church and the buildings surrounding it give no indication as to the scope and beauty of the town. For that, you must stop and explore it on foot.

Entering a church through its age-worn portal unknowingly gives entry to the town. The cool, dark interior is lit by tall, stained-glass windows in the rear apse surrounding the chancel. Gregorian chant plays softly through hidden speakers. The effect is so beautiful and appropriate that it is a wonder more historic churches don’t take advantage of this simple method for dramatically enhancing their atmosphere.

A delicately columned cloister is accessed through a side door. From there, another door leads to the Saint-Émilion tourism office and through it to a small plaza surrounding the bell tower. Umbrellas shade the tables of two cafes and beyond them is a low wall. Spread beneath the wall is a panorama of tile-roofed, stone houses and cobbled lanes, a wonderful surprise.

Saint-Émilion is set within an enormous, natural amphitheater. Rows of grape vines mark the edge of town, disappearing into the distant horizon. At the foot of the sheer cliff lies a small, cafe-lined plaza. From this limestone cliff, the underground, Monolithic Church, the largest of its kind in France, was carved by generations of devoted Benedictine monks. Over 15,000 cubic yards of rock were quarried to create the huge interior spaces.

Narrow lanes, one so steep and slick a handrail is necessary, wind around and down, past stylish wine shops, to the plaza below. It seems as if the only businesses are wine shops, restaurants or macaroon stores, crunchy, multi-colored macaroons being another Saint-Émilion specialty.Establishment Martin is one of Saint-Emilion's premier wine shops. It sells over 90 different wines and will happily provide tastings.

The portal to the Monolithic Church with its iconic bell tower.

The massive doors to the Monolithic Church lie at the bottom of the cliff just off the plaza. Frequent tours explore the vast interior. Past the church, more wine stores provide tastings of the local vintages. Cocktail tables with bottles and glasses sit just outside the doors of the shops, allowing casual tastings of the regions full-bodied reds as you stroll.

A leisurely 10-15 minute walk brings you to the vines of Merlot and Cabernet Franc grapes abutting the town. From here, you can wander in all directions to your heart’s delight, toward wineries, châteaus and beyond.

The hills around Saint-Emilion.

A typical grave in the cemetery of village 1 km from Saint-Emilion.

Saint-Émilion is an architectural gem. Its timeless, medieval atmosphere transports you to a previous era. Here, you will find not only marvelous, southern French cuisine and exceptional wines, but also, a sense of quiet elegance and understated self-confidence that comes from centuries of culture and a world class reputation for excellence.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

Straight out of the past, a couple and their dog paddle past the ancient town of Guitres.

Ancient and pastoral, two words that provide context for this idyllic, gently rolling, forested, countryside of old vineyards, older farms and even older, tiny villages. This is the south of France. Ornate steeples of 11^th and 12^th century churches tower over the cramped, cobblestone streets and stone houses as they have, seemingly unchanged for a millennium.

A stone bridge spans a river, dense forest lining its banks, as young boys fish for the big ones we see swimming below. A couple in a small, wooden bateau passes under the bridge. The longhaired man stands at the stern, propelling the boat with its single oar. But for the tee shirts and shorts, it could be a scene from any time in the past 500 years.

L'Isle and the countryside around Guitres'.

Entering the town on foot, it appears dormant, the houses shuttered, the streets empty but for three, old men at an outdoor table down the block. Fortunately, the small, modern patisserie on the tiny square is open, allowing us to appease our appetites with fabulous French pastries and chocolates.

This is Guitres, an ancient town on the Isle River. The 11^th century abbey, Notre Dame de Guitres, is world famous for its acoustics. Unfortunately, the concert season, with an a capella vocal ensemble, doesn’t begin for another two weeks. To hear unaccompanied voices singing Gregorian chant and Renaissance vocal music in the sparse darkness and vaulted setting of Guitres’ church would be close to heaven.

The Abbey of Notre Dame in Guitres

A typical village cemetary with its ancient church in a tiny village near Guitres'.

Our rented car gives us flexibility to explore. With a sudden change to blustery weather, a day in the city of Bordeaux seems appropriate. The old city center is another UNESCO World Heritage Site. Our hosts at the farm/b&b recommend a park and ride north of the city that, for three Euros, provides parking and tram tickets. Such a deal!

The wide, muddy Garonne River splits the city and provides easy access to the sea. Bordeaux has been an important port for centuries-France’s primary debarkation point for early trade with the America’s. Vast quantities of wine were shipped from here. Enormous fortunes were made, not just from wine, but sadly slaves as well.

One of Bordeaux's stylish and efficient trams.

Along the Quai de la Douane and the Garonne River.

Departing the tram at the Stalingrad stop allows us to walk across the Pont de Pierre, the bridge spanning the river, for the full impact of Bordeaux’s elegant, centuries-old riverfront. Grand, 18^th century, four-story buildings line the river for miles. Only the steeples of churches and cathedrals punctuate this magnificent façade as they rise above the warren of streets and alleys behind the riverfront.

One of the gates into the old city in Bordeaux.

The Cathédrale St André at the end of the Rue Vital-Carles in Bordeaux old city.

The interior of Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeau

Wandering the busy, stately streets, we find the elegant flying buttresses of the Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeaux and turn left to visit the Musée d’Aquitaine to learn something of the history of the region. The museum is a wealth of historical information. With evidence of ancestral human occupation reaching back as far as a staggering 700,000 years, the archeological record is rich. Several caves in the region yielded Neanderthal artifacts dating back 30,000 years while other caves, including the famous one at Lascaux, contain Paleolithic paintings estimated at over 17,000 years old.

Paleo-lithic tools at least 30,000 year old.

Here again, Rome left its impressive mark. The museum’s collection reflects this past with much Roman sculpture, glass and mosaics. Turbulent centuries followed the slow collapse of the empire.

A bronze, Roman Hercules.

Bordeaux didn’t begin to come into its own until the middle ages when Eleanor of Aquitaine married Henri Plantagenet who shortly thereafter became King Henry II of England. The many Romanesque churches of the city are clear evidence of this growth. Bordeaux’s golden age though, came with the 18^th century when it became the focus of commerce with the New World.

A beautiful, marble bust of some 18th century archbishop. Such elegant craftsmanship.

Sadly, Bordeaux profited greatly from the slave trade. It was a hub of the triangular trade with the new world. This African carving is festooned with actual chains used in the despicable trade.

Leaving the museum, we find the old city center and stroll through the alleys and pedestrian streets checking out the enticing patisseries and chocolateries. In one, you could get high just breathing the chocolate fumes!

Another of the gates to the old city which is now entirely a pedestrian area.

I hear clapping and cheering coming from an extremely, crowded, corner store and go to investigate. It’s the opening day of Bordeaux’s first Apple Store!

Apple's grand opening in Bordeaux.

Outside the Musee' de Beaux Arts.

Lord knows why they were dressed like this.

The altar area of the Notre Dame de Bordeaux.

Continuing our stroll, we find broad, tree-lined avenues with luxurious homes built by 18^th century wine merchants. The avenues open to the riverfront quay-a grand, stately promenade of reflecting pools, gardens and elegant buildings.

Homes of the wealthy leading to the Grand Theater of Bordeaux.

Toward late afternoon, the streets got really busy!

The wonderful reflection pool in front of the Place de la Bourse along the Garonne.

Ending our day, the quay leads us back to the tram and eventually our car for the forty-minute drive through the ancient villages, vineyards and quiet country roads to the farm/b&b where we are staying.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

Lisbon's Moorish inspired Campo Pequeno bullring,

Admittedly, six nights is dismally inadequate to explore Portugal. Here you have a country whose archeological history goes back some 30,000 years, a lush, varied, sun-drenched land settled by the Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, and Moors-long-ago ancestors of the current Portuguese people. A month, really, should be a minimum, but for various reasons, Yolanda and I were limited to this short time before traveling in southern France.

There is an entire western and southern Atlantic coastline to explore, replete with isolated beaches, magnificent cliffs and ancient, languid towns. There are mountain ranges rising to the east with the Spanish border only 175 miles from the western coast. More than anything though, there is the Portuguese cultural heritage, a unique and sometimes fantastic conglomeration of Roman, Moorish, Spanish, English and Catholic influences that has survived and at times, thrived since the expulsion of Islam in the 13^th century.

The Alfama

Lisbon is a bustling, cosmopolitan, capitol city. From its broad, tree-lined avenues, punctuated by monumental monuments to Portugal’s heroes and history, to the tiny, twisting, cobbled lanes of hilly Alfama, Lisbon is a delight to explore. Buy a four Euro day pass for its metro, busses and anachronistically, iconic trams and explore to your heart’s content.

Riding Tram 28 along the narrow street of the Alfama.

Traditionally tiled building are common place in Lisbon. Here, an elderly couple keep an eye watch the comings and goings of their Alfama neighborhood.

Hop aboard Tram 28 for several hours of rattling up and down the hills of Alfama and the Barrio Alto. In the narrow street the tram misses by inches parked cars, people and the corners of houses. You can hop on and off to take in the magnificent viewpoints, eat at a street side café, experience the calm of exquisite centuries-old churches or explore the ancient castle sitting atop Alfama. Here, miradouros amidst a park-like setting of stone walls and parapets offer panoramic vistas of the city below.

The Tejos estuary from one of the miradouros in the Alfama.

From Lisbon’s vast Tejos River estuary, Portuguese 15^th and 16^th century explorers like Vasco de Gama embarked on their journeys of discovery. Facing what for them was the complete unknown, they opened the west and east coasts of Africa, the Straits of Hormuz, India, Ceylon, the spice islands of Indonesia and Malaysia as well as China and Japan. This brought European commerce and sometimes Portuguese domination to the regions.

The gateway to Lisbon's waterfront.

The plato do dia is an excellent value for dinner at the sidewalk cafes of Rossio.

At the same time, other Portuguese sailors happened upon the east coast of South America. They determined it was actually a vast continent rather than just islands as Columbus thought and established the huge holding that would eventually become Brazil.

The unique portal to the Rossio train station.

The ornate tower of Sintra's town hall.

For Yolanda and I though, the attraction of big cities pales to that of small towns, especially towns with an architectural heritage so interesting and fantastic as that of Sintra. Sintra is a short half-hour train ride from Lisbon’s centrally located Rossio train station. At less than 4 Euros round trip, the train is a bargain and makes an easy day trip. But with so much to experience an overnight, even two nights, is a must.

A sculpture exhibition adorns the road from the train station to the historic center of Sintra. The chimneys of the royal palace are in the background.

In the historic center of Sintra.

The small, historical center of Sintra, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is a romance of hills, narrow, cobbled lanes, lush vegetation and art. Tiny cafes serving the freshest seafood are tucked into its many corners. The ancient, stone, walls and towers of a Moorish castle and the fantastic palace of Portugal’s 19^th century monarchs, Palacio de Pena, loom on hilltops high above the town. Parks, trails and roads rise into the verdant hills above the village. The forest reminds me very much of coastal Oregon.

The Quinta da Regaliera.

For centuries, Sintra has been a summer retreat for Royalty and the wealthy. Incredible palaces and mansions, some now hotels, peak through the dense foliage of the hillsides. Yolanda and I spend one amazing afternoon exploring perhaps the most fantastical, the Quinta da  Regaliera. Luigi Manini, a well-known Italian architect and opera set designer for his wealthy patron, Carvalho Monteiro, designed it around the turn of the 19th century. Manini devoted fourteen years to creating a mythical landscape out of the many acres of wooded hillside.

The Entry.

The entry to Leda's Cave.

Paths wander throughout forest. Surprises lurk around every; fountains, caves, waterfalls, and towered, stone fortresses. We descend the circular stair set into the wall of the Initiatic Well eighty-eight feet to a mosaic floor. Dark caverns lead in various directions that eventually open onto other incredible scenes. I can imagine the pseudo-mystical ceremonies played out by torchlight operatically staged for the guest’s benefit.

The eighty-eight foot deep Initiatic Well.

One exit from the tunnels leading from the Initiatic Well.

Another exit from the Initiatic Well.

Ponds, aquariums and elegant fountains are set amidst an arboretum type landscape. Statued terraces and a lovely chapel are staged among the greenery. Labyrinthine grottos twist their way through the rocks.

The Quinta da Regaleira is a masterwork of fantastic landscape and architectural design.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

Hummingbird Knob

This year, Yolanda and I will celebrate our tenth anniversary purchasing our cabin and land in Western Colorado, Hummingbird Knob. We constantly remark that this is the best thing we’ve ever done in our lives. Of all the many properties Yolanda has owned over the years, none, has effected her life so dramatically and none is more valuable in non-monetary terms.

During these ten years, we’ve taken the land from being a remote piece of never used wilderness with a shell of a cabin visited solely by mice, flies and the flickers who poked holes in the walls chasing them, to a lovely, remote, cozy little cabin in the woods.

We have lived there for as much as seven months continuously; spring through fall. In winter, we visit for about 4-5 days each month. It’s a bit too difficult, though not impossible, to live there full time during the winter months. It would require lots of firewood especially on those nights like last week when it got down to 17 below zero Fahrenheit.

Every season has its unique beauty. I have never known it to be anything but beautiful. One friend, who visited in early spring, experienced a storm complete with dramatic, daytime displays of thunder and lightning. He said that no matter the weather, it’s always beautiful. And that’s the truth.

It is beautiful, whether it be the profusion of wildflowers and intense greens of spring with the creek raging in flood; the warm, occasionally hot, languid days of summer that bring the ripening of the choke cherries and, our favorite, the-much better than blueberries-serviceberries; the brilliant color of fall with its shortening, indian summer days and golden Aspen, scarlet Gambel Oaks, orange Hawthorne and bright yellow Cottonwoods; or the intensely quiet, pristine landscape of snow-covered trees and frozen creek following a winter storm.

In a phrase: We are blessed.

The Knob, being visited by one of the many elk wintering on our land. Five elk initially were on the knob before I took this. As I approached on snowshoes, this single sentry remained, barking her warning. They sound exactly like dogs.

Our neighbor runs cattle in the fall on the hayfields above our land and drives them down to lower pastures when the snow gets to deep.

We have the privilege of accessing our neighbors 600 acres. The 360 degree view, isolation and utter serenity in winter is, to say the least, marvelousl.

Ermina and her family are year-round residents, turning tan in summer. She's an Ermine.

I've been building a portfolio of snow and ice formations I find on our creek:

Porky hangs out in the oaks, napping safely in the branches to conserve energy during the winter. When I took this, after noisily bushwacking on snowshoes through the thicket, his attitude was one of, "Aw come on. Can't you just let me nap in peace?"

On the middle bench: Gambel Oaks, Serviceberry bushes and a Blue Spruce, typical of much of our land.

Well over one hundred aspens populate our small aspen grove.

A view from our deck: Blue Spruce during a gentle, winter storm.

Three young spruce on the creek bench.

Wild turkeys are frequent visitors in the spring, summer and fall, but rare in winter.

I found Rocky trying to get at my bird feeders one gorgeous, January day.

Looking down from the deck to the creek bench.

My Playhouse, uh, I mean my office.

Nana's Cabin, our guest cabin on the upper bench. We built it as a memorial to Yolanda's mother and contains some furniture, books, knic-knacks and pictures that belonged to her.

The interior of Nana's Cabin. With it's small loft, containing a queen mattress and futon, it sleeps four.

Our solar shower gets little use in the winter for obvious reasons.

A view from the deck after a fresh snowfall.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

The crowds in part of Samsung's huge booth provide a small perspective on the hoards attending CES.

CEA, the Consumer Electronics Association has been a client of mine for quite a while now. They are the organization that puts on the enormous Consumer Electronics Show every year in Las Vegas. It is one of the largest trade shows in the world and certainly the most important in the field of consumer electronics. In all the years I’ve photographed for CEA, my schedule never permitted me to attend CES. Personally knowing many of the exhibitors and having been exposed to their businesses, their philosophies and to CEA, couldn’t prepare me for the onslaught to the senses embodied in the CES. It is, in one word, astounding, in two, beyond comprehension. Over 2,700 exhibitors take over not just the enormous 3.2 million square feet of the Las Vegas Convention Center, but the Hilton Convention Center next door, the Venetian’s Convention Center, and numerous other venues around the city. The logistics is staggering. Over 125,000 people from literally all over the planet attend. Exhibitors range from tiny startup hopefuls in 10×10 booths to giants like Samsung, Panasonic, LG, Ford, Intel, Microsoft, Sony and many more with extremely sophisticated, humongous displays likely covering several tens of thousands of square feet. Trying to see everything is an exercise in futility. On a sensory level, it is overwhelming. The following is simply a taste of what I experienced beginning with my flight on January 6th from Denver to Vegas. With my face continually pressed to my window on the northern side of the plane, the flight was an amazing prelude to an astounding experience.

(Scroll down to see the images.)

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I’m leaving Denver for the huge Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas shortly after sunrise. Flying west then west-southwest over the mountains after a clearing winter storm provides spectacular views as the clouds clear just east of the continental divide. Fresh snow blankets the mountains. One beautiful scene after another unfolds beneath. Visibility goes for what, a hundred miles? At least!

The knife-edge ridges of the Gore Range, tinged pink from the morning sun rise dramatically from their steep, cloud-shrouded valleys. Next, the glistening, pristine white runs of Vail, well-defined clear cuts through the dark trees of the slopes flow past. Following Vail, the familiar runs of Beaver Creek unfold, my house in Singletree clearly visible across the valley.

We turn slightly south as Cordillera, Brush Creek and Eagle, then Gypsum slide by. The dark, depths of Glenwood Canyon hide the interstate while the vast expanse of the snow-covered Flattops stretch to the north. Next, the town of Carbondale and the Roaring Fork Valley extend north to its terminus at Glenwood Springs followed by low mountains and valleys little known to me. The familiar flat expanse of the ranches south of Silt appear; a short cut through which we frequently drive to our cabin outside Collbran.

The 12,000’ heights of Battlement Mesa rise just to the north and then there it is, Vega Lake and three short miles northwest, a tiny ribbon of white leads to my beloved Hummingbird Knob, our cabin in the woods. Carlyle Currier’s empty hayfields above our land are snow-shrouded, brilliant and lonely.

The familiar ranches surrounding Collbran and the Plateau Valley slide past before the extreme northwest tip of 10,000’ Grand Mesa appears, very flat and stark white above the shear, 5,000 foot drops off its flanks.

Next, there’s the cityscape of Grand Junction and its namesake confluence of the Colorado and Gunnison rivers, the town flanked on the southwest by the red-rock mesas and canyons of Colorado Monument.

The flat plateaus south and west of Junction give way to the convoluted canyons northeast of the Monte La Sals, the mountains just southwest of Moab. The lazy, goosenecks of the Colorado River appear, deep within the bounding red-rock cliffs whose  broad mesas extend into the pinnacles, bluffs and convoluted folds of Arches National Park. Then, as we fly southwest through the dramatic, tortured wilds of south-central Utah, one after another in slow, stately procession, the national parks of Canyonlands, Capitol Reed, Escalante, and Bryce are clearly delineated in the vastness.

Distant mountains and ranges lay in to the north and west. Vast plains, empty, expanses of white, separate the ranges.

Finally, just before flying out of the mountains and valleys of Southern Utah into the deserts of Nevada, the deep, red-rock canyon of Zion, in all its glory, white and red and dark, dark green, lie literally at my feet. The blank, steep, red walls of it’s western sister, Kolub Canyon, are just to the north with the vast ridge of Cedar Breaks even farther.

St. George and the confluence of the Virgin River and I-15 appear, the interstate and its broad valley disappearing in the distant north amidst the jumble of mountains. Red mountains on St. George’s west rise sharply from it city roots.

Again mountains, this time cut deeply by the Virgin River and I-15, end abruptly at the tiny, extreme northwestern slice of Arizona. Appearing out of the desert is the gambling/retirement town of Mesquite, on the Arizona and Nevada border, then briefly the agricultural valley of Moapa flows beneath with its towns of Logandale and Overtone. Just to the west, the unmistakeable, crimson rock of Valley of Fire State Park erupts from the surrounding, drab reddish rock of the north shore of Lake Mead.

We cross the sparkling, deep-azure waters of Lake Mead, crisp in contrast to the tortuous, barren, surrounding rock and mountains. Its sharply defined, chalk-like bathtub ring defines high-water some years before, clear proof of the recent years of low precipitation in the Southwest. Flying along the lake’s southern shore, the slender thread of Hoover Dam appears, a fragile bulwark to the enormous pressure unceasingly  pressing against it.

And finally, to the dam’s north and just before landing, the bankrupt, empty terraces interspersed throughout the development of Lake Las Vegas gives lie to the illusion of unlimited growth, clear proof of the broken dreams in this, the foreclosure capitol of America.

A small part of Panasonic's booth featuring the 3D TVs. The large TV in the middle, at 152 inches, is, I believe the largest HD 3D display in existence.

A part of Microsoft's exhibition. Note the TV studio on the upper level. Several exhibitors had their own broadcast facilities incorporated into their booths.

A very few of some of the "smaller" exhibitors.

Part of Dolby's booth. Of course, their home theater sound displays were very impressive.

Entering Motorola's booth.

2011 is the year of the tablet. Scores and scores of tablets were introduced. Motorola's new tablet running on Android's latest Honeycomb OS generated a lot of buzz. They wouldn't let me touch it though.

NBC Universal's huge booth...

...had this large gaming/karaoke space inside the booth...

And they did live broadcasts as well.

Here's another someone doing live telecasts from the show floor. Media was everywhere. Many where using small, hand-held videos cameras so they could post directly to their blogs.

A video portal into Samsung's display.

Samsung's new ultra-thin TV, I think it was a 72" and only about 1" thick.

And there were cars and thousands of things you can buy for your car...

Like mobile sound.

The new, beautifully, sleek Audi E-Tron...

And more cars of all vintages.

More high-end mobile sound from former CEA Board Chairman Loyd Ivey's Mitek Corporation.

Maybe you just want a little driving game for your rec room...

Perhaps a driving game for your kids...

Or maybe you'd prefer an electric powered, remote-controlled skateboard...

Or play with controlling some robot balls with your iPhone...

Or build your own personal robot.

How about more grown up robots, say to defuse that bomb or plug that radioactive leak in your kitchen...

Or just to vacuum your floor.

Wanna Hook Up? Beautiful models were in booth after booth after booth after booth.

So what's new with Polaroid?

They've got Lady Gaga! She's somewhere in that throng announcing a new line of products...

The Lady Gaga camera, instant bluetooth printer and Gaga glasses camera. Wonder what they paid her?

Probably two hundred booths had cases for iPads, iPhones computers and everything else electronic. I thought I could make a statement with one of these cases for my iPhone.

There were all kinds of interestingly designed gadgets for the home and office of the future.

\

Dozens and dozens of new products in every category won Innovation Awards for Design and Engineering.

There were loads of hands-on displays for new technologies.

Intel's 3D art creation station. One of a couple of dozen hands-on products you could test in Intel's huge booth.

A representative from Dreamworks telling about using Intel's new 2nd generation core processors in the production of their hit movie, Megamind.

Sharp's new Aquos and Quatron four-color HD and 3D TV's were spectacular.

And then there was Sony's humongous 3D display. I think it was somewhere around 15-20 feet high and 80 feet long. Or maybe just 10x60, who knows, but you could view it with standard 3D glasses instead of the expensive proprietary glasses needed for other manufacturers. The others were better though.

Maybe all you want is your own personal 3D TV. I didn't like it much though

Gary Shapiro, President and CEO of the Consumer Electronics Association, signing his new book, "Comeback-How Innovation Will Restore the American Dream" Gary is somewhat of a hero to me. He is brilliant, whip-smart, an excellent, articulate speaker, a visionary and deeply devoted to the CE industry. His wife, Mal, is beautiful and brilliant as well, and both are down to earth, genuinely warm people.

And when you're exhausted from standing and walking and need to collapse from the sheer overload, the world's most comfortable and sophisticated recliner is available for testing. I think they must have had a time limit.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com