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.
Lizard with a gash on its head, southeastern Arizona, photo by Steve Bruno
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.
Sunlight filters through the moss covered forest in central Oregon, photo by Steve Bruno
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!
Carved statue in Pu’uhonua o Honaunau National Historical Park, Hawaii by Steve Bruno
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.
Strange panel of pictographs in the Grand Canyon, Arizona by Steve Bruno
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.
Canyon walls near Moab, Utah appear to have eyes. Photo by Steve Bruno
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!
Forest in autumn near the junction of the roads to Cape Royal and Point Imperial by Steve Bruno, 1992
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.
Grand Canyon looking south and east from Point Imperial by Steve Bruno, 1988
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?
Door to Eddie’s Place in the Kanab Creek Wilderness, western Grand Canyon by Steve Bruno
Welcome to Eddie’s Place. There are no roads here, and you will have hiked at least ten miles to get here. Deep in the Kanab Creek Wilderness on Grand Canyon’s western edge, the building comes as a surprise along the route to most visitors. Eddie was a veteran who returned with leprosy, and was given the chance to live out his years far away from society. This was long before any wilderness designation was assigned to the region. It’s been over ten years since I visited last, but I have a feeling this durable structure is still intact. I feel sorry for the mule that had to bring in the cast iron stove, however.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Door.”
I have a trio of images for this challenge. The featured photo is called the Three Sisters, which are three detached pinnacles at the end of a mesa in Monument Valley, Arizona.
The next shot is of three elk resting in a meadow near the Lumpy Ridge Trailhead in Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. I did manipulate this one a bit in Photoshop to emphasize the elk.
For the third image, I take you to sunset on the Atlantic Ocean at Fort Lauderdale, Florida. This would be called “Three Palms”.
My photography teacher said repeatedly, “If you see something that sparks your interest, take the photos now. It may not be there or look the same when you come back!” He lived in the desert in Carefree, Arizona, and I knew he was referring to Pinnacle Peak (above) on more than one occasion. At the time, developers were rearranging the map at an unprecedented pace on the perimeter of the metropolitan Phoenix area. The location of this photograph is either someone’s backyard or a golf course now.
It’s not just development that alters our world. Glacier covered lands don’t look the same as they did a decade ago. Weather can wreak havoc in a matter of minutes. Unforeseen disasters can happen at any moment. In today’s digital era, my teacher’s words don’t seem as relevant as they once were. You will never again hear someone say, “Hmmm, I don’t want to take that one. I’ve only got 8 shots left on this roll of film, and I don’t want to waste them.” Perhaps his message should be updated to “Keep an extra memory card in your bag at all times for those moments when you come across something special” 🙂
While driving between Phoenix and Payson, Arizona a number of years back, I came across this roadside sign. “Opening Soon” was a relatively loose term here.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Off-Season.”
I’ve flown enough out of McCarran Airport to know the flight patterns towards every corner of the US, and earlier this month on my flight to Houston, we definitely started off course. I figured the pilot would make an adjustment, but we seemed to stay further south than all the previous flights to the southeast. I was enjoying the slight change of scenery, and one of the first things to get my attention was patterns of the Mojave Desert (above). As we approached Flagstaff, I knew we were still on a southern course because the San Francisco Peaks were visible out the left side windows. They had just received a late spring coating of snow. The Arizona Snowbowl looked as though they could still have been skiing, but I’m sure it was past season. The next feature to come into view was Meteor Crater. It’s really hard to grasp the scale of the crater from the air, but perhaps the tiny roads will help. There wasn’t much to see after that, until descending into Houston. The brownness of west Texas gave way to the patchwork of agricultural land and the greenery and waterways of the much more humid environment we were about to touch down upon. Then something very red appeared on the horizon. Amidst all that green, it was hard to miss. After zooming in on the computer screen, I can see that it is a manufacturing facility for heavy equipment. And then, finally, welcome to Houston. In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “On the Way.”
If you travel at all, you will eventually come across something broken and abandoned. It’s in our nature, being so much easier to just leave something behind once it has outlived its usefulness.
Here in the US, cars seem to be a popular item to dispose of once they are broken. I have encountered numerous cars and trucks left for nature to swallow up. It’s sad when someone determines that the cost to tow and repair a vehicle outweighs the value of said vehicle.
Some things would require far more effort and cost to remove once they become broken. This mining operation, above, would be a perfect example of that. I’m sure it was perfectly functional when the people decided to move on, probably because they had exhausted the material they were mining. Nature eventually reclaims everything, and is slowly working her magic on this remnant of civilization.
Other examples of broken: a broken rainbowa broken down ranch grain tower
canyon walls broken from rockslide In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Broken.”
I’ve hiked many miles, and early on I discovered I preferred canyon hikes over those on a mountaintop or ridgeline. It’s not just about having shade or water, but more of the adventure of coming around a corner and being amazed with something unexpected. And while canyon exploring tops my list, some canyons are more memorable. Those are the ones where the skies disappear and I might have to take off the pack and step sideways for a moment or two. At that point, it’s hard not to feel enveloped in the land. Sometimes it’s challenging to find an angle to photograph these spots, because there’s no moving around for a better angle, and looking up just yields a washed out image. Whether it’s a slot canyon or just another thin slit in the earth’s crust, sunlight rarely penetrates to the bottom. If it does, the contrast is too much, so the best light is often reflected sunlight.
Here are some of my favorite places to become enveloped:
Top: small side canyon in Zion National Park, Utah
Second: Antelope Canyon, near Page, Arizona
Third: Cathedral Gorge State Park, Nevada
Fourth: unnamed canyon in Navajo Indian Reservation, Arizona
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Enveloped.”
The desert is full of pointy things, so a good flashlight is essential when exploring at night. Some desert plants bloom at night, such as this fruit chain cholla cactus, which is also called the jumping cholla. While they don’t actually jump, they broken pods on the ground just need the slightest touch to attach themselves to you. These broken chameleonlike pods, now dead and dehydrated, blend in effortlessly to the rocky ground. Loose cactus pods don’t usually venture too far from the living plant, so avoiding them isn’t too challenging. Rattlesnakes and scorpions like to come out at night, too. Did I mention you want a good flashlight…..better yet, two?
Steve Bruno Photo 
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