Whoop ti Do.

Well, I have to say that after a year on Mars, the Curiosity rover has proven the one thing that I hoped it would not prove:

Mars truly is a boring rock.

There is nothing really going on there. Not only is it now a cold, almost airless, immensely dry and lifeless ball of frigid stone, it has been that way for billions of years.

Yeah, yeah. It had flowing water and a thick atmosphere once upon a time. Yatta yatta yatta. But for billions of years it has been cold and airless and bereft of just about anything we could term as activity. There is no rain, no rivers or lakes, no vegetation. There is not even any tectonic activity, nor active volcanism.

Mars is just a dead, rusty period--a tiny dot of blood on a black velvet surface.

Apparently it was murdered by a vast collision with something about the size of Pluto about four billion goddamned years ago. Since then the atmosphere has been blasted into the ether. What little atmosphere it still has (almost none), is still leaking off into the solar wind and will be stripped completely away in time.

It's just a goddamned boring destination.

Alas, there are no tharks. There are no denizens dark and golden-eyed. No beings living in the dust with glass javelins.

Big Whoop.

Reading!

Reading a lot this week.

So far:

GUNSIGHTS by Elmore Leonard.

THE ASSAULTS OF CHAOS by S.T. Joshi.

SFWA GRAND MASTERS: Volume 1, edited by Fred Pohl.

New novel from S.T. Joshi.

The Silver Surfer.

Forget everything that you've been told about anyone other than Jack Kirby have created the Silver Surfer. Jack Kirby created that character. He did it completely on his own. Yes, he was influenced by religious texts, but by and large the Silver Surfer was a concoction that arose completely from the fertile imagination of Jacob Kurtzberg (Jack Kirby).

I like to remind people, Jack Kirby had no "co-creator" at Marvel Comics because he didn't need one. He did all of that stuff on his own. If you hear anyone saying otherwise, know that you're listening to a liar.

As Kirby was trying to manage his exit from Marvel to places where he could create without having to suffer the indignity of having to see a talentless shill stealing his credit, he was trying (I'm convinced) to lay down some comic book dogma where his creations were concerned.

During this period when he was writing and illustrating the Fantastic Four, he had realized what a truly unique character he had created with the Surfer. And he wanted to establish some further canonical material for the character before he left it in the hands of the men who had so effectively robbed him. There was that much he could try to do as he slowly left the building.

To that end he was using the Silver Surfer off and one during a particular run of the Fantastic Four title. In these stories he was adding to the rich palette he'd already established in earlier stories, crossing his "T"s and dotting the "I"s. These stories are rather quirky, with the Silver Surfer making only fleeting, almost glancing appearances, effecting the flow of the fiction in an almost tangential manner. It was brilliant story-telling that not even an incompetent dialog editor could wreck.

The mid-grade copy of Fantastic Four #74 that I just picked up.

Uh oh...

I took Carole and Andy to Mountain Island Lake today so that they could go kayaking. I didn't feel like kayaking because it was just way the hell too hot and humid for that. So I drove over to a nearby wildlife refuge to see if I could spot some birds. They are trying to restore a native grassland there and you're not supposed to cross into it. They have a viewing area that you are to use to try to photograph wildlife. While I was on the viewing overlook I noticed two guys hiking around the wetland portion of the restoration project. Probably they were not supposed to be there. I had my telephoto lens on the camera and was taking photos of the area and they wandered into the shots. When I cropped one of the shots I saw that they had noticed me taking photos that obviously included them. They did not look happy.

Cowan's Ford Wildlife Refuge. Grassland restoration which is posted against trespass.

That bastard is taking photos!

FANTASTIC FOUR #49!

Today I landed a copy of FF #49 for my collection. I was reminded once more of the explosion of creativity exhibited by Jack Kirby over the course of less than one year on FANTASTIC FOUR. It is, in retrospect, nothing short of brilliant. If you want to narrow down the description of what he accomplished from comics in general to superhero comics, then it was about as close to genius as we see in the format.

And one of the ultimate story arcs to come out of this stunning series of issues was the three-part tale of Galactus and the Silver Surfer (FF #48-50). Keep in mind that all of this stuff was created by Jack Kirby. Despite the wealth of lies that have streamed endlessly from the corporate monstrosity of Marvel, there was no "co-creator". There was just Jack Kirby sitting at his drawing board creating, plotting, writing, and illustrating some of the best superhero comics ever done.

I think he would have kept up the tempo he had set between issues 44 and 52 if his editor had not ended up wrecking the story Kirby had written for his two-issue "HIM" epic. Lee twisted Kirby's study of selfishness so completely that Kirby's intent was lost in the wreck of what that bombastic idiot did to the tale. After that, it's obvious to me that Kirby just didn't want to continue creating such a vast wealth of property for his publisher. After that, he continued to produce wonderful work, but never again at Marvel would he concoct such a phenomenal flood of memorable (and endlessly marketable) characters.

My copy of FANTASTIC FOUR #49.

Yulee Sugar Mill

Somehow I never posted any of these photos. They're from The Yulee Sugar Mill, a state park site in Florida. Very small historical area that protects the remains of a sugar factory that was destroyed during the Civil War era. The work was damned hideous from reading the historical markers and could pretty much only be done with slave labor. No one would do this work unless they were forced to do so.

It's surprising how much of the machinery and construction are still intact after so many decades and under constant assault from the elements.

A highway goes right through the old site these days.

They keep it in good repair.

What really surprises me is how well the iron machinery has held up.

The sugar was produced through a series of boilers and evaporators. Tough, hot, back-breaking toil. Much of it was done by women.

Remains of evaporators. Each succession of processing would render the concoction closer and closer to pure cane sugar.

Lousy Inks!

I only had one issue remaining to complete all of the last fifteen issues of FANTASTIC FOUR that Kirby wrote and illustrated. That issue was #97. Like most of the stories Kirby was writing for the book toward the end, this one was very simple in theme and plot. It involved the FF being met with a nebulous menace that turned out to be a monster somewhat like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. In the end, the fellow turns out to be a lost alien with its mate in tow and they both escape from the Four and into outer space on their ship. It's the kind of thing Kirby was writing and illustrating in his very earliest days at the embryonic Marvel Comics.

I had not seen this issue since I first read it as a kid. And I have to say that while the story is simple it was not a bad effort on Kirby's part. However...the inking job performed by Frank Giacoia is one of the worst I've ever seen. It's possible that he was rushed and was pulled in on the job because Joe Sinnott was not available for some reason. I have no idea what the deadline was like, but the result is easily one of the worst inking jobs I have ever seen over Kirby's pencils. Some of the panels are excruciatingly awful because of Giacoia's slap-dash work.

But, anyway, I've got that last issue in that particular bit of the collection, so that was a relief to finish that section. In addition, the condition of the book was quite nice, so I won't ever have to worry about getting an upgrade.

My copy of FANTASTIC FOUR #97.

Hiking the High Peaks of North Carolina

One of the great pleasures of hiking for me is to walk along the highest ridges of our tallest mountains. There's no feeling quite like it for me. I know that the elevations at 5,000 to 6,000 feet are not enough to cause you to feel any altitude changes, but there is something about being that high here in the eastern side of the continent. Maybe it's the idea that you realize that you're as high as you can get on our eastern peaks. Or it could have something to do with the difference in the plants that grow on these higher slopes.

I just know that I get a tremendous charge out of achieving those summits and walking along.

Walking on a very high ridge in the Black Mountains.

The view from the cliffs of Little Butt Mountain.

Later Kirby Issues of FANTASTIC FOUR

I'm having a good time completing my collection of Jack Kirby's THE FANTASTIC FOUR. As I've mentioned before, I only want the issues that Kirby created, plotted, wrote, and illustrated. So the issues that I want are #1 through #102.

I have the bulk of the later issues and now I'll have to buckle down and start filling in the earliest issues. I don't currently own any single-digit issues, so that's where I'll have to concentrate over the next year or so. The following are all issues of the title that I picked up at a comic show today. All of the books were in very high grade and I was particularly happy with both the condition of the books and the price that I paid for the lot. I got a great deal on these.

The issues from around #72 through #77 were strange. Kirby had been weaving a unique and long-running plot for a number of months dealing with the Silver Surfer and Galactus and tying in with the Psycho-Man, one of the last major villains that Kirby created for Marvel.

Great drama and tension for the readers. No new property for his employers to take from him.

I don't know if Kirby really liked the villain The Mad Thinker, or if he just used him a lot to keep from giving his employer any new intellectual property that they could rob from him.

In retrospect, it's obvious now that Kirby was just biding his time the last few years he worked at Marvel. My feeling is that that, while he was still creating great stories, he just wasn't going to gift Marvel Comics with any new property that they could license at his expense.

"The Torch Goes Wild!" How many times did I read that tag-line when I was a kid? The Inhumans were yet one more group of wonderful characters created by Kirby and used by the corporation to generate revenue at the expense of Kirby's rights.

This is the next-to-last issue of the title that Kirby wrote and illustrated. And it's the last cover that he did for the book for many years. He was obviously signing off in ways that were both literal and symbolic.

Fun!

I went to the comic convention today! Yay!

Batwomerns.

"Wak! Wak! Wak!"

COALITION excerpt.

THE NEW ECOLOGY OF DEATH is the last zombie concept I'll write. However, I'm still tweaking the final part of THE COALITION series that I started for Severed Press. The third chapter is overdue and I'm working to finish it. To that end, here is a brief excerpt from the third and final section of the three-part series:

THE COALTION

THE 2% SOLUTION (Part III)

by Robert Mathis Kurtz

On a Friday the biggest aircraft that Riggs had ever seen came roaring in over the city. Oliver, Jean and Ron all came spilling out of their rooftop aerie to see what was making the noise.

The sound had begun as a minor whine, so subtle that at first they didn’t pay it much mind. The family was making supper and the home was filled with the smells and sounds of the meal that was simmering in pots on the stovetop. Poke salad boiled, seasoned with venison. And a stew of that same meat swimming in broth with potatoes and carrots harvested from the sprawling gardens near the hospital added to the wonderful bouquet of food smells.

Thus, the three were moving about, talking about the supper and the day’s accomplishments instead of paying note to a faraway mumble that was growing into a gigantic, dish-rattling growl.

The first to race onto the rooftop was Ron and he was suddenly a sculpture frozen in place, his eyes to the heavens. Jean followed, only belatedly realizing that she’d emerged through the door gripping a pan she’d been about to store away. And Oliver popped free of the nest last, pointing and hopping about. His thin finger aimed toward the looming sight of the gigantic airframe that was tilted slightly to the left as the great thing banked, turning toward the airport.

“Look!” Oliver’s cracked, boy’s voice rose above the vibrations of the enormous engines that were shaking everything from hundreds of feet in the sky. “What is it? What is it, Ron?”

Feeling the boy beside him, Ron put his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Biggest goddamned plane I’ve ever seen, son. It’s called a Galaxy C5A. When I was a kid, it was practically the biggest transport vehicle in the US Air Force.” He turned to track the thing across the blue sky. It seemed to lumber in the unpolluted Carolina cobalt blue. In truth, it was travelling very fast indeed, but because of the sheer mass of the thing, it only seemed to be creeping through the atmosphere.

“What’s it doing?” Jean asked. “I had no idea…” he voice trailed off.

“Well, the work crews have been working overtime to clear the airstrips at the old airport,” he reminded her. “They didn’t reopen the route from downtown to the old terminal for nothing. I figured something was going to happen, but I had no idea…” His own voice went to nothing as he thought about the implications.

“Who are they?” Oliver piped. “What’s going on? Won’t all that noise bring in the deaders from around the city? We’re going to be swamped with them,” he pointed out.

“Oliver’s right,” Jean agreed. She transferred the stainless steel pan to her left hand and put her fingers in the loops of Ron’s pants and tugged him toward her. “All of that noise and movement is going to draw the walking dead right out of the woods and into town. It’ll be like it was before. Maybe worse,” she added. “Goddamn it.”

By then, the ponderous thing was making its approach toward the airport. And it was only at that point that Ron noticed the lights glittering from formerly ruined and decrepit Charlotte-Douglas International Airport. And then it was his turn to point.

“Fuck if they don’t have the place powered up!” His voice rose as that of the growling jet retreated. “I didn’t notice it. But they’ve got the place lit.” Ron’s hand indicated the area to the east of the strip. “Damned if they don’t even have the radar working!”

As they watched, the C5A came in on its final approach and seemed to glide in almost gracefully to the tarmac. It appeared an impossible dance for such a gigantic and gravity-laden mass.

“If they don’t turn off those lights, the zombies are going to swarm that place like flies on shit,” Jean said. “As soon as it gets dark.” She tugged on Ron’s arm until she was able to peel his attention free of the transport as it taxied to a stop.

“Ron. What are we going to do? They’ll be back in the city again. It’ll be like before. Maybe worse! I don’t know if we have enough food socked away for a long siege.”

He peered into her eyes and could plainly see the worry that had been at rest come clawing back to the surface. Her heart-stopping perfect features were etched with the fear that had been held in check for so long. His arms went around her and he hugged her tightly.

“I’m not sure what they’re up to,” he admitted.  “But we all knew they weren’t clearing out the airport for nothing.  Dale told me that there were plans. But I figured a few small planes.” Riggs nodded toward the airport that was growing shadowed as the sun began to dip toward the horizon. “I didn’t reckon on a C5A to come in.”

“What kind of jet is it?” Oliver asked.

Ron released his grip on his wife and smiled at the boy. At least Oliver’s face wasn’t painted with fear. He was just curious.

“It was the biggest transport in the Air Force. At least it was when I was a kid. Now, I’m pretty sure it has to be the biggest aircraft on the planet. The thing can carry something like 270,000 pounds of cargo. Tanks. Helicopters. Even bridge sections.”

Together, they watched for a while until darkness began to overtake the scenery. Lights glittered at the airport. Control towers were revealed. They could see tiny forms—men scurrying around the monstrous aircraft and moving to and from a cleaned and refitted hangar. But soon the trio headed back to their shelter, remembering the meal that was waiting for them.

“What did they bring on that jet?” Oliver asked as they pulled the door closed behind them.

“Hell, son. I don’t know. But I’m sure we’ll find out. If I have to, I’ll go ask the Colonel what’s going on.” And, then, together, a sense of unease creeping into their home as they closed and locked the door, they went back to their meal.

Whatever was going on, Ron knew that soon he would know what it was. He could only hope that he would like the answers he’d find.

Lost Cove Cliffs.

From an old trip to Wilson Creek and Lost Cove Cliffs in 2009. I like the area but you have to time your visit carefully or you'll run into huge crowds of people.

"How many more steps back?"

Looking through an eroded bit of rock.

One of hundreds of big cascades on Wilson Creek.

Encounter on the trail.

Random Photos, Rocky Mountain National Park

We were only in Rocky Mountain National Park for two full days. I'd like to go back and visit it again and hike some more trails there, and get into the back country. Because most of the trip was spent in the San Juans, I haven't even processed all of my photos from the Park. Here are a few random shots.

I saw this withered husk of timber along a glacial tarn and figured it was worth being the subject of a photograph.

Longs Peak, the mightiest mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Above treeline on Longs Peak. This is where I first learned all about altitude sickness first-hand.

A pretty impressive waterfall on the way to Chasm Lake. Made insignificant by the enormity of the landscape around it.

Latest Novels

My two newest novels:

THE NEW ECOLOGY OF DEATH.

A nice review of the book here.


And WITHERING.

Pure Awe

The most stunning place I have ever been in my life was the Weminuche Wilderness in Colorado. I'd been to mountains before, of course. I'd hiked the Appalachians from Katahdin in Maine to Wade Mountain in Alabama. I'd hiked in the mountains in southern California and in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons in Montana and Wyoming.

But for scenery that inspired nothing but awe in me I have to give the highest marks to the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It's a vast range of very high country (for the lower 48) that is packed with tortured terrain and stunning vistas. I wonder if I'll ever see anything like it again.

Today, I was looking through photos of my trip there. One major drawback for me while I was in that place was the altitude sickness and my back injury. The altitude sickness dogged me for almost the whole time I was there. It took me many days to finally acclimate to the high elevations, and by that time I had to head home. The next time I go to such country, I'll make sure to spend more time getting accustomed to the thin air.

I was generally struck speechless.

The tilted, tortured crust of Mother Earth.

Sometimes I was so ill from altitude sickness that I could barely move. And yet I'd still pause to take in the scenery.

Alpine glacial lakes.

Willow looks nice and beautiful, but it's a horror to negotiate.

What can you say? In the silence all I could do was look and appreciate.

I took this one from the worst campsite we were forced to use.

Waking to the mountains dusted in snow.

Chicago Basin on the way out.

The weather we encountered was all over the range. Snow. Sleet. Hot. Cold. Rain. Sunshine. Thunder.

This was the deepest into wilderness as I have ever been. No matter which way we could have headed from this point, we were at least two days from the nearest road.

High valleys surrounded by towering peaks.

I had never seen mountains such as these.

I think I took this one the day we were stopped by thunderstorms.

Trail heading down from a very high pass (almost 13K feet) toward Chicago Basin.

Exploring

I spend most of my free time writing. It is, after all, what I consider a job even though I have rarely earned anywhere approaching half the amount I make as a laborer (over the course of a year). To that end I sometimes rarely have the opportunity to read the books I want to read, see the movies I want to see, or visit the forests I want to explore.

I've had to force myself to take something of a break.

In the next few weeks I hope to catch up on some sorely missed reading and to watch a few movies. And I hope to get up to the mountains to go hiking somewhere I can find some solitude. We have a four-day trip planned to southwestern Virginia where I'm going to bag some peaks I've wanted to climb for quite a number of years.

I genuinely love to write, but I need to take a bit of a break from the constant act of creating fiction.

One thing about the southern Appalachians: they are completely green.

Self-portrait on Mackey Mountain. This area is home to many tracts of virgin forest. The largest poplar trees in Pisgah National Forest are located here. This was also the first land to be designated as National Fores in the USA.

Cascade on Mackey Mountain.

Mackey Mountain forest. Looks beautiful still, but the hemlocks are all gone--killed off by hemlock wooly adelgid.