Last night was the premiere of my buddy Mike’s art show at the Pink Cow in Shibuya. He had invited a hotch-potch mix of our old frisbee friends, students, work-mates, and also a few guys from the Japan blogosphere. The event was a blast and I believe several paintings sold, with a lot of people seriously admiring Mike’s work. No doubt he has skills. I’ll post an interview with artwork photos and video tour of the gallery in the next few days. For now though- a brief post on the bloggers. It was the first time to meet these guys and great fun. Each of the 5 of us there does a different thing, though all share an interest in getting out and about, if not to haikyo then in CJW’s case into the deep mountains. We chatted about our similar experiences, possible ad revenue, camera gear, and made plans for future trips out and about. It was good fun, maybe we ought to have a wider blog meet-up with even more of the blogland dudes (they’re all guys, I think).
Nuclear Craters on the Marshall Islands
The impact was immediate and massive. In a second the fireball of flame, earth and smoke spread almost four and half miles wide, engulfing everything within its path, visible over 250 miles away. After one minute the atomic mushroom cloud reached 47,000 feet high and 7 miles wide.? 5 ships were destroyed, numerous islanders were poisoned by the nuclear fallout, and a whole island was gouged out of existence as a crater 2km wide and 250 feet deep was burned into the earth.
It was the 15 megaton 1952 ‘Castle Bravo’ atomic bomb test on Bikini atoll in the Marshall islands, 1200 times more powerful than the atmospheric bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 1000 times more powerful than the Trinity test of 1945 that opened the floodgates to the nuclear world.
Enewak atoll capped to contain the radioactivity, islanders take to their deck chairs to watch, the mushroom cloud rises.
There are four types of nuclear explosion: underground, underwater, atmospheric, and exo-atmospheric.
Hiroshima, Trinity, Mike, Bravo, Tsar Bomba.
1- Atmospheric.
2- Underground.
3- Exo-atmospheric.
4- Underwater.
The first ever nuclear test was atmospheric, code-named ‘Trinity’ by the experiment leader J. Robert Oppenheimer after a line from an obscure John Donne poem, referencing the ‘three person’d God’. It was equivalent to an explosion of around 20 kilotons of TNT. A few weeks after that first test, similar devices were dropped on the Japanese cities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima.
A tower for lowering the bomb, the bomb site from above, crowds watch the cloud rise.
Tests in the deserts of Nevada were moved underground since 1962, and have continued until the present day, with 926 of 1021 of the US’s nuclear tests conducted there. 126 tests were conducted elsewhere, many at the Pacific Proving Grounds in the Marshall Islands. Underground tests leave ‘subsidence craters’ which are clearly visible from the air.
100’s of Subsidence craters at the Nevada Test Site.
The second largest nuclear test ever commissioned by the US was nick-named Ivy Mike, the first ever test of a nuclear blast fuelled partially by nuclear fusion. It was 62 tons in weight and far too large to weaponize, resembling a factory more than a missile. The Russians referred to it mockingly as a “thermonuclear installation”.
The test was carried out on November 1, 1952; it produced a yield estimated in the range of 10.4–12 Megatons. The fireball was approximately 3.25 miles wide, and the mushroom cloud rose to an altitude of 57,000 feet in less than 90 seconds. One minute later it had reached 108,000 feet, before stabilizing at 136,000 feet with the top eventually spreading out to a diameter of 100 miles with a stem 20 miles wide.
Blast, craters.
The blast created a crater 6,240 feet in diameter and 164 feet deep where the islet of Elugelab had once been; the blast and water waves from the explosion (some waves up to twenty feet high) stripped the test islands clean of vegetation, as observed by a helicopter survey within 60 minutes after the test, by which time the mushroom cloud and steam had been blown away. Irradiated coral debris fell upon ships stationed 30 miles from the blast, and the immediate area around the atoll was heavily contaminated for some time.
The blast on Enewetak atoll.
Radioactive debris from this test and others on the nearby Bikini and Rongelop Atolls were buried in the blast crater of the 1958 ‘Cactus Test’. The concrete cap was built between 1977 and 1980 at a cost of $239 million. The crater beneath the dome is 30-foot deep and 307-foot wide.
The crater capped with the ‘Cactus Dome’.
The Cactus Dome alongside an underwater crater of another nuclear test.
From a helicopter taking star-gazers to a beach by the Dome to watch the recent total eclipse.
The largest nuclear test ever conducted by the US in 1954, code-named Castle Bravo. It blew a hole clean through the atoll it was tested on, with a yield of 15 megatons, 3 times more powerful than researchers had expected due to a mistake in the lab about the potency of ‘lithium-7’. This enormous error led to shockwaves and a degree of radioactive fallout they had not anticipated, poisoning the islanders who had been relocated to a ‘safe distance’, as well as crew of a Japanese fishing vessel in nearby waters, the ‘Lucky Dragon Number 5’. Personnel involved in the testing were also exposed to higher levels of radiation than expected, and many grew ill.
The exposure of Japanese citizens to radiation from Us nuclear blasts for a third time prompted strong calls for the abolition of atmospheric testing.
The blast, Castle Bravo crater.
Islanders, personnel gathered to watch.
Hole blasted in the island.
Difficult to see, but the remains from the eclipse helicopter.
The largest nuclear test ever, the largest man-made explosion in human history, was conducted by the Russians, known as Tsar Bomba, and it dwarfed all previous tests by a factor of 3. It had a yield of 57 megatons, the equivalent of 10 times all the explosives detonated during World war 2, including both of the nuclear devices dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, ‘Fat Man’, and ‘Little Boy’.
Tsar Bomba, the largest explosive in human history.
The Tsar Bomba (also named ‘Big Ivan’) fireball reached nearly as high as the altitude of the release plane, and was seen and felt almost 1,000 kilometres from ground zero. The heat from the explosion could have caused third degree burns at a range of 100 km. The subsequent mushroom cloud was about 64 kilometres high (nearly seven times higher than Mount Everest) and 40 kilometres wide. The explosion could be seen and felt in Finland, breaking windows there and in Sweden. Atmospheric focusing caused blast damage up to 1,000 kilometers away. The seismic shock created by the detonation was measurable even on its third passage around the Earth. The energy yield was around 7.1 on the Richter scale , but since the bomb was detonated in air rather than underground, most of the energy was not converted to seismic waves.
The Tsar Bomba, or, ‘How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb’.
About 6 years back I went to the Hiroshima Peace Park. I saw the Atomic Dome, the sole standing reminder of what happened when the Enola Gay dropped ‘Little Boy’. I went in the Museum and emerged sickened by the detailed imagery inside, as almost everyone who goes there is.
The physical marks these bombs leave behind serve to warn us of their massive power to destroy and tear asunder real lives. They are ruins that reflect our reality back at us.
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Star Wars fans in cosplay dress-off
Makuhari Messe is one heck of a ginormous exposition facility, big enough to accomodate the Millennium Falcon, Jabba the Hutt, numerous Darth Vaders AND Han Solo’s ego all at once. When Star Wars came to Tokyo, I had to go along to help celebrate. Dudes in storm-trooper costumes (is one of those Danny Choo? hmm, no guitar…) and ladies with weird fleshy heads and blue skin. They were all out in force. Chewbacca signed signatures, though precious few people went to his booth, C3-PO gave an entertaining and self-effacing speech on the main stage, Jabba the Hut terrorized poor little children, and much fun was had by all.
Various breeds of attractive girl confabulate.
Exploring an Abandoned Japanese Castle-Shrine
Japan is riddled with shrines, both in cities and out in the countryside, huddled in the basin of wintry valleys or perched precariously on top of mountains- often at points of raw natural beauty and power. From time to time though these wooden complexes go bankrupt. The monks pack up and move out like franchisees out of rent money. They didn’t sell enough blessings from the shrine blessings shop, didn’t garner enough inheritance tithes, didn’t bury enough people in the graveyard plots they rent out. They move out and the wooden structure is left to fend for itself against the forces of nature it was set up to commemorate.
I’ve seen an abandoned shrine before, but never an abandoned shrine-castle, so set out into the backwoods of Saitama prefecture filled with anticipation.
Model shrine and water pump offertory.
Catman on the loose in Ikebukuro station
Worse than a monkey on the loose in Shibuya station is Catman on the loose with his bag of cats. Catman wanders the station’s underground aisles dropping kittens on various statues wherever he goes. He lingers long enough to watch the crowds descend in an orgy of cell-phone cameras and cries of ‘kawaii!’ (cute!). He watches with a gap-toothed grin as school-girls and office-ladies and silly-quiffed hosts alike giggle with pleasure. Then he picks the kittens up and drops them back in his bag. The crowds disperse. Catman becomes a blue mist, an invisible man, until he finds the next statue and strikes again.
Kitten on an owl at Ikebukuro East gate.
Ladies for ladies, Bears for men
On toilet doors you sometimes see fancy graphics, stylized versions of the little dude and chick that tell us which little room to go in to do our business. I’ve seen Picasso-esque renderings, melting-egg Dali versions, manga characters, the oft-confusing-to-illiterate-gaijin kanji versions, but never before one where the dude is not a dude but a bear. Only in Hokkaido.
This sticker was omiyage (souvenir gift) from a friend who went there for a holiday. Kuma means bear.
Crazy Kei the DIY cosplayer
Kei is a funky if kind of mad old guy I met one night on a random photo-walk through Shinjuku’s skyscraper district (West). I was on the bridge shooting pretty city lights and so was he, me with my dSLR and he with some weirdly contrived home-made compact camera. He’d taped a couple of enlarging lenses to both the back and front of what might have been a SONY coolpix, so the back-image was enlarged and the front-lens was zoomed out. It was one tricked out, pimped up compact camera. He let me toy with it for a moment. There were no settings of course, the whole thing duct-taped beyond recognition, but I felt pretty bad-ass all the same.
Kei shows off his bad-ass bike.
Gutterman
by Michael John Grist
I found him one mad marsh-walking night. I was out in the bogs, I don’t know why, crossing wet rivers and wading through peat mulberry patches, dashings of filth worming their way into the cuffs of my suit turn-ups, smidgeons of muck smudging up and under my fingernails. I must have trekked two thirds of a golf course and the circumference of a lengthways lake when I hit upon the road.
It was just an ordinary road.
It had double yellow parking lines and gutters and manhole covers, and it had curbs and sidewalks, and that central white line, dash dotted. It had lights too, tall curving streetlamps, blotching out yellow glow like a line of fairy lights in the dark of the fens.
It was an ordinary road, except it went nowhere. I could plainly see that, from my dell in the darkness. It began from nothing to my left, ran down for 4 streetlamps, arcing like bare back ribs from an all eaten feast, then it ended, a neat line, and back onto the marsh grass and stalky reeds of the night, lit up white like a front row of soldiers in a firing line, floodlit and waiting.
Image from here.
Airplane boneyard in the Mojave desert
This is where planes go when they die. Vast hulks of metal that cost millions to build, now grounded in obsolescence, taken out to the boneyard to be shot in the head like Old Yeller. Their long neat lines look a lot like the white tombs of fallen soldiers at Arlington cemetery, seemingly endless in number, waiting for the day they will be hacked open like sheet-metal pinatas to get at the valuable guts within.
Fallen soldiers at a final roll call in the boneyard.
The boneyard is just one part of the Mojave Air and Space Port, the same facility from which Richard Branson’s Space Ship One was launched into space. The boneyard is simply rental space provided for airlines that no longer have an immediate need for their planes. It’s a giant storage bay, though one not all planes return from- some sit there for years in the baking heat, slowly roasting like foil-wrapped potatoes.
Some planes are used as fodder and a source of spare parts, engineers dipping in and out of their empty hulls to prize free delicate avionics equipment, engine parts, even whole rotundas of fuselage. Some meet their fate at the hands of giant machines which tear them to bits to expose their cabling, ducting, and inner wall electronics for cannibalization.
This post is in large part fuelled by an excellent article by Ransom Riggs of mentalfloss. All the HDR photos of the boneyard interior belong to him. In his article he describes first spotting the planes lined up in the desert, their insignia painted over, their doors and engines coated over with white plaster masks, and wondering he was looking at a mirage.
After 9/11 the whole facility was clamped down though, and access seemed impossible. After years of inquiries and hoping though he finally met a guy who worked in the airport, and took him inside the boneyard for a tour.
Wrapped in gauze and ready for the pyre.
The Mojave desert is an ideal place to retire planes as it ‘has a dry, clear and virtually smog-free climate that helps minimize corrosion. It has an alkaline soil so firm that airplanes can be towed and parked on the surface without sinking.’
Only tyres for a nose-cone, beyond the veil.
Jet engine without a jet.
Tail suspended on rail spars.
A gutted cockpit.
The process of putting these planes out to pasture is called ‘mothballing’, and is not simply a matter of pulling up to a vacant lot and turning off the engine. ‘Planes that are to be mothballed, if only temporarily, go through a meticulous process to prepare them for exposure to the desert environment. On arrival, the planes are inspected. Fuel tanks are filled with heavy oil, which provides a protective coating for engine parts. Canopies, engine intakes and other openings are sealed with layers of “Spraylat,” a latex-based, permanently flexible substance that is easy to remove.
The gutting yard, from Scott Haefner.
Like a game of Axis and Allies.
The top layer of ‘Spraylat,’ which is white, reflects enough solar heat to keep a plane’s interior at nearly the same temperature as the outside air. Without Spraylat, the interior could quickly heat up to 200 degrees Fahrenheit during hot summer days. The coatings protect the plane’s most vulnerable parts against sun, wind, dust and nesting animals. Every four years, the planes are brought into an open hangar for a checkup.
Most of the airplanes that sit in desert graveyards today date from the Vietnam era or later. They are divided into four categories, depending on their future prospects.
- Category 1000 planes are preserved with an eye toward possibly flying again, should international political conditions warrant.
- Category 2000 planes are maintained for spare parts. Some parts from older aircraft, are available nowhere else.
- Category 3000 planes are kept in near ready-to-fly condition, awaiting a more-than-likely new deployment.
- Category 4000 planes are destined for “static display” in museums, town squares or Air Force base entrances. Most, however, will be sold as scrap metal, eventually finding new life as razor blades, soft drink cans or car fenders.’
This text from desertusa.com.
Distinctive Troy Paiva night shot of a smashed fuselage (prepped for a movie).
Super slow night shot by Joe Reifer.
Tip-off credit for this post goes to David Meyer, who sent a link to an article about a Pan-Am fan who goes to the Mojave boneyard looking for vintage Pan-Am parts to outfit his replica Golden Years Pan-Am cabin in his garage. That was on the post about the South Korean couple who spent all their cash buying the world’s first commercial 747 to use as a restaurant. Cheers David!
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Not many banana
Raising kids is tough. Ask any parent and they’ll talk to you for hours about the hundreds of daily decisions they face in naturing and nurturing their kids into healthy little human robots. Apple pie or chocolate pie? Stroller or back-buggy? Power Rangers or Power Puff girls? Blue or Pink? Christianity or Judaism or Islam?
Recently I saw a T-shirt (at the Tokyo Motor show) encapsulating one of these timeless questions, complete with answer. I couldn’t believe my luck, so snapped a quick picture to share with you here.
What he needs is not many banana but also love.
So all you parents plying your kids with bananas, put them down. Only love will do. I feel this could be a great John Lennon lyric.
To sum-up, this is Tokyo content. I swore off it for a while, but with the new site layout I feel it can be allowed back into the fold. No commitments about how much I’ll post, but if something stands out I’ll probably stick it up here.