Video killed the radio star and tourism killed the icons of nature photography. There, I said it. I made this image in January of 2009. I arrived the evening prior and parked my truck in a corner of the dirt parking lot, spread out a ground sheet and tossed my sleeping pad and bag on top. It was a peaceful night but for a group of rowdy high school kids using one of the other corners for an impromptu desert party that didn’t last long.
I awoke before sunrise, hastily tossed my makeshift camp into the back of my rig and hiked out over the hill to this famous scenic view. I don’t remember a trail, per se, but maybe there was one. I recall following footprints through sand to the edge of the canyon rim overlooking the Colorado River, freshly brewed from the depths of Lake Powell just a hop, skip and a jump upstream. There were no drones. No fences, no busloads of tourists, no annoying selfie-stickers making peace signs and duck lips into their phone or GoPro camera - but there was one obnoxious raven. I assume the incessant squawks were the black-feathered beast’s way of telling this human kook to get off it’s lawn. Or maybe it was asking for a pop tart. Who knows? Either way, I’d been alone for a few days and frankly, I appreciated its company.
I’d never visited Horseshoe Bend but even then, twelve years ago, it was one of the Southwest’s most iconic vistas that every landscape photographer just had to memorialize in their own unique way. Like most of the icons of that time - the pre-Instagram era - it was still considered overdone. But, one could still visit and enjoy their own peaceful experience just as I did that chilly winter morning.
I had only that single morning to create a memorable image as it was my final day on the road and a long drive back to Moab awaited. Clouds to the west slowly started to glow. Faint, pastel pink at first. Then, second by second, the color intensified. I placed my tripod in the holes left by the thousands of photographers who preceded me and began to abuse the shutter button. Click. Click. Click. Though I was shooting digital and at that point HDR or exposure blending were the preferred methods of taming dynamic range my inner luddite still preferred to use clunky graduated neutral density filters. Click. Readjust the handheld GND. Click. Adjust exposure. Click. For a brief moment the landscape glowed in concert with the clouds. CLICK! Check the histogram - perfect. Zoom into 100% - nice and sharp. Got it! Good thing too, because while I was dotting i’s and crossing t’s, the light and color vanished.
I strolled along the rim, tripod over my shoulder and confidence soaring, raven still hootin’ and hollerin’. When the first small group of people arrived I took it as my cue to leave so they could enjoy their own peaceful moment with the canyon, and the damn raven.
Writing this, I realize that I’m becoming curmudgeonly. I turned 50 last November and I’m finding that the older I get, the less I like people. Maybe that isn’t entirely accurate. I think I still like people, I just don’t enjoy spending time around them as much as I used to unless they’re family or very close friends. I’ve seen so many of our favorite places around Moab become “discovered” and frankly, ruined. We find it harder and harder to drive, ride or walk out into the desert and find solitude. But, that’s probably a topic for a whole other blog post. This one is just a “behind the image” look with a few extra rants, I guess. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.