Minnesota Sunrise
I repeat – it didn’t rain here. Not a drop.
This is what we faced one morning a few years ago when we planned a trip into the Paiute Wilderness in northwestern Arizona. During the majority of the year, the water of the Virgin River would be mostly clear and about ankle to calf deep here. In the parts where the river channel narrows to the length of your average rental car, it is still only knee to thigh deep. At this point, you can certainly feel the pull of the water, yet it is not dangerous.
Upon our arrival, we knew we had to scrap our plans. One single thunderstorm had dumped upon the headwaters of the river, about thirty miles away, during the course of the night. We could kick up dust here.
On Monday, hikers died in a narrow slot canyon in Zion National Park, Utah. Rangers had given them a warning about potential flooding, but they can’t stop people from going unless flooding is imminent or occurring. It is up to the discretion of the visitors to proceed, and once this has happened, there is no way to warn them of changing weather. In canyon country, you have no way of knowing unless it’s directly above you.
On August 14, 1997, eleven hikers perished in a flood in Antelope Canyon. A photographer friend of mine was there that day, and was one of several people pleading with the tourists not to proceed into the canyon. The tourists had already discussed the conditions, and voted to continue, but they weren’t from around here. Besides, it wasn’t raining there, either.
I get it. People plan a trip and try to see as much as they can, and end up on a tight schedule. A little rain shouldn’t interfere with that, right?
This is the desert, and a little rain goes a long way. Literally. Many, many miles sometimes.
To see an example of what not to do in a flood, watch this video on Youtube. These are the stupidest people, and because they survived, the luckiest people you might ever come across. I wanted to give them credit for making a wise decision when they seek higher ground in the earlier portion of the video, but then they resume when the rain seems to let up. Tell me you’re not scratching your head by the end of this video thinking what are these people doing?
I’m certain this week’s news about hikers in a flood will not be the last of its kind. I just know there’s no photograph in the world that justifies going into a narrow canyon when there’s rain nearby. Other links to flash floods will show up when you watch this video. I don’t want my last words to be “Should I keep filming this?”
I thought I’d try something a little different for Cee’s Black & White Challenge.
This is one of my favorite shots from Hawaii, but it didn’t come from some spectacular wilderness setting. In the property next to a gas station, there was an interesting group of trees. This was taken looking up from underneath two of them, but closer to the one on the left. I love the patterns of the branches reaching skyward, and in color the contrast of the branches against the lush green with red flowers makes this work. When I converted it to grayscale, it just fell flat. And then I thought, what’ll happen if I click on Inverse? The network of branches came back to life!
The science of astronomy has come a long way since Percival Lowell sat in his chair peering through this once high-tech telescope at the Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff, Arizona. It has been many years since someone “looked” through a large telescope of the magnitude you might find at any of the major observatories in the world. Instead, astronomers sort through large amounts of data fed to their computers from the instrumentation at the receiving end of these technological works of art. The romantic notion of someone peering through a telescope towards a new galactic discovery exists only as a Hollywood vision. If only they were fitted with an eyepiece – the views would be incomparable.
This is my entry for Ed’s Challenge this week.
As an old friend used to say, “Every day above ground is a good day!” Some days stand out more than others, and here’s one that I still remember.
My friend Dave asked me to join him checking out a hike he had read about. It was the Taylor Creek hike in the Kolob Canyons section of Zion National Park in Utah. The National Park Service lists this as a 5 mile roundtrip hike that only gains 450 feet. Dave and I both have extensive hiking experience, including the Zion Narrows and many Grand Canyon hikes, so this sounded like something we would knock out in about 2 hours. The official trail ends at Double Arch Alcove, but he had read that going further up canyon was worth investigating. Even then, we both had the feeling we would be done early, and maybe that would leave time to hike another trail in the park.
We left Las Vegas about 8 am on a late April day. The forecast for Zion was sunny skies and about 80 degrees F. This placed us on the trail about 11 am, just in time for mid-day light. Neither one of us was expecting any great photographs, but it was a beautiful day, and any day hiking is a good day!
The trail started out in relatively open country and we could see higher canyon walls ahead. The easiness of the trail soon had us at an old cabin along the way. It didn’t seem like it was much longer when we arrived at Double Arch Alcove. This was an impressive sight and the depth of this beautiful canyon had become obvious. As we continued further up, there was a physically demanding spot or two, enough to keep the average tourist back. Then, our first unexpected sight came up. It was a large snowbank at the base of the canyon where water was trickling down. The cool air announced its presence before we had sight of it, and the snow was a bit on the mushy side, as one would expect in 80 degree air. We continued upward, and as we neared the end of our route we encountered another snowbank. This one, however, was completely different. It was several feet thick and rock hard. We referred to it as the desert glacier, and were estimating that it was still going to be there in June when the temps hit 100. It was shaded by steep walls of the final narrow box canyon. At the end of this box canyon were colors and textures that neither one of us had ever seen, and in a canyon so dark we needed a flash to capture it properly.
As we headed back, we couldn’t help but notice that there was a cloud or two floating above. The weathermen rarely get it right, and this day was no exception. By the time we got back to Double Arch Alcove, there was more cloud than open sky, and the light was becoming great for photography. Usually I’m the one who holds other hikers back under these circumstances, but Dave was fascinated with the changing light as much as I was. A hike which we should have finished in another 45 minutes took us almost 3 hours. Most of these photographs are along the official trail.
As we got back to the car, we knew we only had about a half hour before sunset, and we couldn’t leave just yet. We drove into the park about another mile and found a couple great spots to get more photos as the sun was going down. Afterwards, we headed down to St. George and filled up on a healthy dose of comfort food. What better way to finish out a very good day?
Grasshopper clinging to an agave plant, my entry for Ed’s Challenge.
I posted a bunch of creepy critters in the Close-Up challenge. If you missed those, you can find them here. That made me search harder for some different creepy images.
Initially. I have this lizard which I came across in the Chiricahua Mountains of southeastern Arizona. Probably not that creepy until you look at the gash on the top of its head. He was a fairly sizeable creature, but it makes me wonder what thinks of him as dinner.
Dark forests can be creepy, and one of the darkest I ever came across was in Hawaii, of all places. I didn’t take any photos there, but this one, with the moss hanging from the branches, is from last year in Oregon.
At Pu’uhonua o Honaunau National Historical Park in Hawaii, there are many carvings. Most of these are genderless with ugly faces with large teeth, which would imply they were there to scare off intruders. The creator of this one decided it was scarier to have a relatively featureless face and a large penis. That’s creepy!
Other symbols, created by a different civilization are equally bizarre. In the Grand Canyon, this panel of pictographs has some creepy characters on it. In addition to the large symbols, there are 5 faces which are nothing more than 3 dots and a line on top (4 lines for number 1). Two eyes and a mouth is my guess, but it’s more like a nose on 4 and 5. There’s also the ghostly white symbol on the far left. I’m not sure how the two deer ended up on this one. This panel is, fortunately, out of reach of anybody today, so this is how it was created over 700 years ago.
By far, the creepiest site I have ever encountered was this pair of grottos in the canyons near Moab, Utah. The dark features around the two grottos suggest a rather alien-like face, and I couldn’t help but have the feeling I was being watched.
For this week’s challenge, I thought it would be easy to come across many photos fitting the category. Emphasizing the foreground in landscape photography is one of the standard rules. Moving in close doesn’t necessarily equate to showing what’s beneath your feet, however.
The featured image, taken in Yosemite National Park, is a location where everything was below my feet. I had a great vantage point where three creeks came together, providing a different perspective on tumbling water.
At Bryce Canyon National Park, I usually prefer to hike down amongst the formations, but this has been a favorite from the rims. I have often been asked where I was standing to get this one. Since then, I think erosion has made this spot off limits.
Not far from Bryce, in the Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness, I encountered these sandstone discs embedded in the ground, on edge. This repetitive pattern was under my feet for some distance.
The Painted Desert was a well chosen name, which becomes more obvious when you see it after a rain. These patterns were in a wash where the water was still standing in limited pockets. A polarizer was used to remove the glare and allowed the color come through.
Getting down close to the ground was the best way to get photos of these little goslings, seen on one of my trips to Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
Most people are in disbelief when you tell them there is a great hiking trail right next to Interstate 10, which is arguably the most boring drive in the US. Picacho Peak rises about 1500 feet above the surrounding desert, and on the back side there’s a stretch with very little earth beneath your feet. Posts, cables and planks assist hikers in this steep section. Thrillseekers expecting something along the lines of Spain’s El Caminito del Rey will be disappointed.
I know some people are big on taking foot-selfie’s wherever they go, but this is the only one I have. From under one of Valley of Fire State Park’s largest arches, where I brought my friend and accomplished hiker, Dave.
After the arch, Dave and I explored the large sandstone mass in the middle of the park, which I refer to as the park’s summit. Along the way, we came across some interesting potholes and pools. This one went down a short distance, then ejected from the small side canyon in the shaded area, upper left. Nothing under his feet there, and as we walked this area, we could hear some areas that had a hollow sound underneath.
Another great place to check out what’s beneath your feet is Mount Charleston, just west of Las Vegas. The red flowers are called Indian Paintbrush, and this is a squirrel’s perspective on them.
Also on the mountain you will come across both of Nevada’s state trees. This one, the bristlecone pine, is characterized by distinct coloring and patterns, and can live to be 5000 years old.
At the base of Mount Charleston, there are thousands of joshua trees. I wasn’t quite sure what was lurking under all that snow, however. Rocks? Bushes? Frozen bunnies?
For this week’s challenge I’m including photos taken by a friend of mine, because he captures amazing images of something I won’t. At least not deliberately. My friend, Kenny Sharrocks, along with a few like-minded pals, goes out several times a year wandering through southern Arizona looking for rattlesnakes. And while his pals bring out the latest high megapixel Canons and Nikons, Kenny uses his seven year old Sony H5 series all-in-one with its high powered zoom lens. He tells me he gets better depth-of-field than his cohorts, which is one of the things I admire about his shots. He also captures excellent detail of his subjects, which are almost always found in shaded settings. Kenny doesn’t use a flash, and yet he still gets a nice studio softbox feel to the shots with no post-processing.
Another subject he is fond of are the frogs he has come across on his trips to the tropics. For these, he does move in close, using a wide-angle and a ring flash. While my friend prefers small critters for subjects, he is very capable of handling almost any subject matter with his camera.
I prefer dangerous subjects that only move fast while they are retreating. Take the black widow, for instance. I was so close to this one that I thought I was going to get a shadow from the lens while using the built-in flash. This is an uncropped shot. In the exploded view insert, you can see that it has brought one of its legs to its open mouth, perhaps for some cleaning.
Another fast retreater is the scorpion, which are usually found in defensive locations, waiting for their food to come to them. A white light flashlight will have them hiding quickly, but a black light flashlight will spot them up to 20 feet away, and will not startle them as you get very close. It is very difficult for a camera’s autofocus to work properly under this circumstance, so I turn the focus mode to manual.
How about a spider so big, it didn’t get fazed by my presence. The largest wolf spider I had ever seen before this was about quarter-sized, including legs. Sometimes you want to move in close to your subject for dramatic or artistic effect. I wanted to show how big this one was, but realized after the first shot, nobody would be able to tell. I went to grab a metal yardstick and placed it alongside the wolf spider, which sat there the entire time. This was before I had a digital camera, and was taken with a flip-phone.
Shooting video in macro mode can be challenging. When I came across these ants in Zion National Park crawling all over this branch, I couldn’t resist trying to capture the frantic pace of their world. The breeze was wreaking havoc with my autofocus, so I switched to manual. At this distance, the branch was still swaying slightly in and out of focus, and I was able to capture better video by moving further back.
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Enough of the creepy, crawly things, let’s move on to some flowers. Again, special equipment is an option here. The red cactus flower was taken in my mom’s backyard with an android phone. This is straight out of the camera, and was very sharp in an 8×10 print – good enough for mom. Sometimes your best tool for macro photography is patience. This cluster of pink flowers took 45 minutes for me to finally capture sharply. Every time the breeze subsided, I would press the shutter, then zoom in on the screen, only to find that part of it was still moving. About 30 deleted shots later, I finally got this one. The white flower is one I took this spring. In the original, there was a little bit of subdued sunlight finding its way to the background, making for some distraction. This shot was handheld. If I had my tripod, I could have shaded the background completely, and avoided having to do this in post-processing. I have employed the shadowing technique many times, it just requires extra hands and a cable release or remote, along with the tripod.
Then there’s extreme close-up without using a microscope. My last shot was one I used for one of Cee’s Challenges, but I’m bringing it back out for this one. This is an uncropped photo of a 2013 US quarter with the Mount Rushmore tribute. I used a fixed 40mm manual lens and two extension tubes. The extension tubes render the aperture useless and fixed wide open. I wasn’t getting the depth of field I wanted, so I took the lens off, then reattached it, but didn’t turn it all the way into a locked position. This allowed me to change the f-stop and see the result in viewfinder. Similar results can be achieved by using a wide angle fixed lens mounted backwards. Focusing in these situations has to be precise and is assisted by using a focusing rail.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Close Up.”
The challenge this week is half-and-half, and as I was looking through my photos I came across some lake shots. Those were mostly reflections, not two halves. Then I came across this one, half water (with some rock), half sky. This was sunrise from the island of O’ahu.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Half and Half.”
I walked down to the viewing area of Grand Canyon’s Point Imperial where there were a dozen or so tourists. I spotted the ranger amongst them, yet by himself. “Excuse me, but where can I find the complaint department?”
Everybody’s head turned. Complain? About the Grand Canyon? What has this guy been smoking?
Without hesitation the ranger replied, “Right here!”
“Simply put” I said, “bark beetles”
The ranger and I engaged in a conversation for several minutes where he explained the park service’s approach to the fires and the beetles. I brought up the fact that there have been ways of exterminating the beetles for many years, but I realized he was just the messenger. After decades of a policy that put out fires as quickly as possible, land managers have figured out it is best to let nature run her course.
Translation: We’re going to let the wildfires burn the beetles out of existence.
I thanked the ranger for his time, but as I looked around I just felt nauseous.
A couple who had been there several years before were sitting, listening, on a nearby bench. “We thought we were driving through a toothpick factory” they commented, “We just wanted to cry!” I conversed with them for a while, sharing our feelings for a once spectacular place that has lost its luster.
The ‘toothpick factory’ they were alluding to was actually outside the park boundary, in Kaibab National Forest. As I drove in I couldn’t help but feel saddened. Mile after mile of completely scorched forest had an eerie feeling to it, even in the middle of the day. That fire’s damage stopped before the Grand Canyon park boundary, and I remember having a sense of relief, thinking that the national park’s forests were spared. But that was not the case. Separate fires have left their mark, leaving the forest unrecognizable from its former appearance. It’s downright ugly in places. I honestly felt a couple bulldozers would help.
If you haven’t been there before, I should explain. The North Rim of the Grand Canyon used to be a package deal. The journey started at the town (gas station, restaurant, hotel) of Jacob Lake. From there it’s about thirty miles to the national park boundary. Driving across the Kaibab Plateau and its pine and aspen forests, mixed with small lakes and open meadows, you got the feeling that you were entering a special world long before arrival at the park’s gate. On my previous visits, I could swear they had landscapers working at night. I had never seen a forest that immaculate before. It wasn’t just that it was clean, there was something in the way the trees were arranged, as though it had been planned. It seemed to other forests how Augusta National is to other golf courses.
Autumn was a magical time here, especially near where the road to Point Imperial left the road to Cape Royal. Aspens lit up the forest with their golden hues, sometimes lingering to reach a shade of pumpkin or tomato. Two cars would be crammed into the pullouts designed for one. Occasionally, people might not even pull completely off the road, just getting out of the vehicle to snap a quick pic or two. Nobody honked their horns in a petulant rush. Everybody slowed down to admire this gem of a forest. And the Grand Canyon was still three miles away – yes, THE Grand Canyon!
As the road continued to Point Imperial, it offered hints of what lay beyond, finally terminating in a forest of ponderosa pine. These majestic trees towered to the skies, giving a visitor the impression there was a touch of redwood mixed into the DNA here. Between all that shade and the encompassing view, it used to be a great place to have a picnic lunch.
The fire line stopped on this point, and now I think there are two tall pines left. To the north, where the small brush is growing back, it looks like an overgrown weed field. The Grand Canyon is still there, relatively the same. I say relatively because evidence of bark beetles is visible as one looks towards the south. Lush green trees protected from all else by sheer cliffs, are starting to brown. A lightning strike is the only chance this pocket of forest has of catching fire and eliminating the beetles. That seems like it would only be trading one shade of brown for another, but at least the forest might have a chance to recover. That is not an option for beetle devastated trees. Several generations of visitors will get to view this slow, lingering death.
Fires are a natural and healthy process for the longevity of our forests. Public land management officials have come to the realization that dense undergrowth is the fuel for intense fires, and make efforts to clean out that growth. Drought may be something out of our control, but the bark beetles are not. The Grand Canyon is not the only place subjected to this damage. Forests throughout the western US are being destroyed by the insects, leaving them unhealthy and prone to massive fires.
In the famous words of Smokey the Bear, “Only YOU can prevent forest fires!”
I wonder if Smokey knew about bark beetles? Are WE supposed to be doing something about those?
Steve Bruno Photo 
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