A Real Emergency Trumps a Fake One; Tales From the Road

Hmm.  Did I make you curious?   

The last afternoon of my just-completed week long road trip was reserved for an odd volunteer experience.  I was to pretend to be a victim in a Mass Casualty Incident Drill (MCID) at the Grand Canyon (South Rim) Emergency Response Station.  The timing was perfect to do this on the way home, and it sounded like a fun, unusual experience.  I came down from the North Rim the day before and had a chance to photograph several times before the drill.  More on that later. 

I met my fellow victims, with whom I was to fake injuries after a fake collision with a fake school bus.  The bus passengers would be played by students from the local high school.  I anticipated fake blood and maybe even a fake fracture.  The point is to create fake chaos for the trainees, and to provide feedback afterward on their performance.  Fun, right?

Waiting for the final details, we heard a call on the radio about a real emergency; a hiker had apparently had a heart attack on the Bright Angel Trail.  The Drill was cancelled as the instructors, the real rescuers, went to this person’s aid.  

Real trumps fake.

"Mushroom City," Bisti Badlands

This trip started at Bisti Badlands, a fascinating moonscape on BLM land in northwestern New Mexico.  I joined a camping trip & workshop with Colleen Miniuk-Sperry and sponsored by Arizona Highways Photo Workshops.  I’d never been there and especially appreciated the guidance.  Apparently people get lost here regularly.  The comradery was great, though I did feel a little guilty, warm in my camper when several of my new friends were in tents.  The low temperature was 34F.   In my own defense, I did lend out my spare sleeping bags.  We had some minor hardships; rain Friday made a bit of a muddy mess and the large group size, unfortunately the norm for AZHPW, can be frustrating as I frequently abandoned compositions because there were people in them, or because others asked me to move out of theirs.

Coal Mine Canyon

So, I was ready to change gears and travel on my own.  Next stop, Coal Mine Canyon on the Navajo Reservation.  This beautiful spot requires a permit from the Nation, but I appreciated camping alone on the brink of the canyon, and especially the sunrise light.

Aspens, Kaibab National Forest

This was my last trip of the season to Grand Canyon North Rim, which closes November 15 or with the first major storm (whichever comes first).  I thought I’d be a little early for peak fall color but as it turns out the timing was just right.  I drove out FR 610 looking for the aftermath of the Fuller Fire.  The most striking thing was ten-plus miles of shredded forest along the road, the fire break created last summer.  I do understand the need for this, but am still rather sad about the damage to one of my favorite spots.

Last light from Fire Point

Fire Point is a fabulous forested remote spot on the North Rim. Most of the 17-mile dirt road drive is in the National Forest, but the last mile is National Park.  That last mile was never good, but has deteriorated quite a bit since last season, including impressive muddy quagmires.  I was commenting on the change to a British Expat I met out there when he told me that he last found this spot 25 years ago.  Apparently the “road” was hardly discernible then.  Here I found peace and an amazing nap.  I sketched out a list of adventures I’d like to have at the North Rim next season.

Rainbow at Desert View

Finally, I set up at Desert View, on the Eastern part of the South Rim. I love this spot, both for the views of the Colorado River upstream and for the namesake watchtower, designed by Mary Colter for the Fred Harvey Company.  Thunder started as I was setting up camp, and soon I was getting drenched on the rim of the Canyon, my mind blown away by sheets of rain, crazy light, and rainbows.  I’ve written about photogasms before, and I’ll have to add this afternoon to my list.  The following morning at Lipan Point was magical as well with breathtaking Grand Canyon fog. 

Real experiences, all.  Thanks for coming along.

Can I Say That?

 

Photogasm.

So I said it.  I debated about it, but I trust that you, my rather limited but sophisticated audience, won’t be shocked.

Some moments are climactic.

Like the surfer remembering those perfect waves, I have a collection of dramatic memories; memories of moments when the light or the experience came together in a transcendent way. One of many advantages of being a photographer is that those recollections are often recorded visually. 

Perusing my archives, I found quite a few of these spanning nine years.  Don’t panic; I won’t go through them all, but I hope you’ll enjoy a few examples.

My husband and I met the dolphins nearly ten years ago when we were still doing a lot of scuba diving.  There’s a place in Belize called “The Elbow” where the current splits around Turneffe Atoll and the large animals hang out. We’d just splashed and heard them before we saw them; eleven spotted dolphins who seemed curious about us.  So curious, in fact that they (less one adult and youngster who disappeared) swam around us and played until we had to reluctantly go back to the boat.  

In Sedona, Arizona during monsoon season photographers wish for dramatic light, clouds, and sometimes rainbows.  This rainbow lasted for nearly an hour as my friends and I raced around town looking for the best vantage points.  This was the memorable day I started using the expression “photogasm.”

Last winter in Death Valley my husband and I were at the higher altitudes checking out these historic charcoal kilns. I put him to work as my assistant, lighting each kiln in turn so I could combine the eight frames in Photoshop.  That alone would have been fun, but the moonrise put the experience over the top.  I wish I could honestly say that I knew just where the full moon would come up, but this one was all dumb luck.  I’m grateful, for the experience and for the image.

Snow at the Grand Canyon.  There’s not much more to say about that than I did in this post.  I’ll never get tired of it.

I’d been hearing about False Kiva in Canyonlands National Park for years.  Despite the apparent controversy about whether it’s really an ancient site, I felt the need to go when I was at the Moab Photo Symposium last spring.  I had friends there new and old, but couldn’t find anyone to make the trek with me.  Loaded up with food, water, clothing, and my InReach signaling device, I headed out and spent several hours enjoying the site.  There’s no drama to this story, just the subtle sense of fulfillment of a strange little calling. Contentment.

Finally, last month I spent a few days at the Grand Canyon with one of my favorite traveling companions, after my husband and dog.  He has a small superstition that he somehow wards of the dramatic, beautiful skies that photographers dream of.  Sure enough, the light was mediocre until he headed home.  The next morning I hiked in the dark to this lovely overlook and watched the sun come up and bathe the Canyon in warm light.  I’ve seen my share of spectacular Grand Canyon sunrises, but this one (the header image) was compounded by the thrill of being utterly alone and having strived for it for days.

Thanks for coming along with me for the peak experiences.

Tortoises

"900," An Adult Male

We were a couple of hours into our slow morning trek across the sonoran desert hillside, over boulders, through mesquite thickets and across washes.  I was feeling increasingly unlucky or unskilled at finding our quarry, or maybe both.  Whenever anyone else found a desert tortoise they’d yell for the scientists who (along with several others, including me) would head straight there.  

The photo opportunities were great.  Not only are the tortoises fascinating creatures, but they move rather slowly compared to many other species of Arizona wildlife, simplifying the photography. 

My husband met Cristina Jones, the Turtle Biologist with Arizona Game and Fish, in Las Vegas. They were on an airport shuttle headed for their respective conferences and he has never met a stranger.  When he learned what she does, he saw an opportunity for me to photograph and learn about the tortoises and he knew I’d love that.   In fact, volunteers are welcome at monthly surveys in the summer months at the research site.  I joined one last Friday.

Who knew?  There’s a desert tortoise study area northeast of Phoenix.  Apparently over 300 individuals have been identified in this relatively small area.

G & F keeps data on all the animals found

Cristina is enthusiastic and fun, and was endlessly patient with my questions.

72.  Unflappable.

The oldest individual we saw was particularly calm.  She was likely 50-60 years old.  After the measuring, weighing, and evaluating were done, I had 45 minutes or so alone with number 72.  I thought perhaps if I kept still she’d be relaxed and move around a bit more.  She did, in fact, get comfortable, and went right to sleep.  She never did stick her head out.

900, on the other hand, was looking for a shady spot under my legs and camera bag.  I’d back up so I could focus on him and he’d keep coming, but I found him particularly photogenic.  

The Juvenile

My luck did eventually change when I narrowly avoided stepping on a juvenile, about 5 years old.  He or she (too early to call) was energetic as youngsters often are.  Unscientific as it was, I couldn’t resist calling this one “cute,” though he or she was tough to photograph.

Other wildlife sightings are common out there.  Though we didn’t see a Gila Monster, there were several rattlesnakes.

More images from the Tortoise Survey (including the snake) are in the Wildlife Gallery on the website.