We had only five days. Five days to complete a mad dash 18-hour drive from Portland to southern Utah, hike into a wild desert canyon, camp and photograph for three days, then drive the eighteen hours back home. Was it enough time? Barely. Would it be worth it? Absolutely.
Rain pounded down as my good friend, Paul Bowman, and I loaded his truck in the dark and began our journey to Utah. Our first stop was to pick up our friend Eric Bennett, who was kind enough to let us crash at his house for the night. One more early morning departure allowed us to reach the trailhead with enough time to descend into the beautiful desert canyon and set up camp.
The remaining daylight hours were spent photographing along the canyon’s riparian corridor. Surrounding me was a wonderland composed of high sandstone walls, gnarled & character-filled old trees, and a flowing river. By that point two things were quite apparent. First, we 100% made the right decision to come, and second, I would need many more days to properly photograph the area. This limited time frame was entirely inadequate. In my mind I was already planning a return trip.
The second day was one of those special days of photography which comes along only every so often – the ability to photograph continuously from dawn to dusk. After breakfast we set off, plunging down canyon. The canyon’s layout consists of a series of tightly packed serpentine bends which prevented easy views down canyon. Rounding each bend revealed brand new scenery containing fresh photographic possibilities. I’d spend time exploring each section before slowly wandering around the next bend only to be confronted by even more exceptional beauty.
Each of us worked at our own pace, respectfully allowing each other space enough to photograph in peace as well as to experience this stunning natural realm on our own terms. Every once in a while we’d meet up, mostly along stretches of oils released by decaying plant matter. Photographing the oils was mesmerizing. The smallest shift in tripod position changed the angle of sunlight which in turn created new patterns of color and form. Here was nature’s original kaleidoscope. The rest of the day was spent slowly walking down canyon scanning for combinations of color, shapes, textures, lines, and patterns to utilize in compositions. Time seemed to withdraw itself. I find I often enjoy the feeling of losing track of time. I find it oddly comforting. The only objective was to stay open and receptive, observing each moment as it morphed into another and then another, all in the hope of turning these personal experiences into art.
Eventually the fading light let me know it was time to turn around. We all converged back at camp, refilled water supplies at a nearby spring, then ate dinner. The rest of the night was spent sitting around drinking a few world class beers, talking, laughing, and enjoying the sounds and sights of night in the canyon. In all my years of backpacking around the U.S. these were the first nights I’d ever spent in the desert backcountry. They won’t be the last. I was enthralled.
The third day offered only a few hours to photograph before starting our grueling return trip back to Portland. We spent the time heading up canyon in the opposite direction we had explored the previous day. I assumed the scenery would be similar yet this part of the canyon had a personality all its own, wider with less riparian vegetation, more big trees, and more light penetration. In some regards it was more challenging to photograph this section yet perhaps my favorite image of the trip was captured that morning — one last parting gift from the canyon.
Then it was over. Time to pack up, climb out of the canyon, and head back to human constructed reality. My brief visit to this desert oasis was over. By late the following day Paul and I would find ourselves driving the last few miles toward home. I was grateful to have spent a few days among good friends while living in close connection to incredible nature. In the end, our plan had somehow worked out perfectly.
