The Lamentable Instagram Syndrome

 

Silhouettes in the alcove (Kerrick James photo)

My traveling companion was clearly getting tired of hearing me say it, but it’s getting crowded out there. Sorry, Tim; I’m going to talk about that a little more here.  Some places we visited last week were prohibitively busy.  Slot canyons, for example, are not so much fun with a steady stream of people coming through, kicking up dirt and knocking me into my tripod. 

I’m sure that this phenomenon has more than one cause but the Instagram syndrome surely plays a large part. There’s also the current camping vogue.  Trends come and go, of course.  I was overlanding before it became popular, and I’ll be doing it after the thing passes and might even take advantage of a great deal on a used camping vehicle when it does.  

The famous places we visited were full of people.  Those that I’ve been frequenting for the better part of a decade were quiet (even lonely) then.  At Horseshoe Bend, for example, sunrises ten years ago were a solitary affair.  About a year ago, my last visit, there were easily 100 people there.  The Glen Canyon National Recreation Area is currently building a larger parking lot, restrooms, and pay stations at Horseshoe.  Really, what choice do they have?

That being said, we also had some quiet times on this photo tour, organized by Kerrick James (K J Photo Safaris) and guided in part by Brent Johnson out of Kanab. More on that later.

 

Metate Arch with stars

One way to find solitude is to shoot at night, and that we did.  Devil’s Garden is in Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument.  This shot includes the famous (and well-visited during the day) Metate Arch, naturally light-painted by the last light 45 minutes or so after sunset.

 

Spooky Slot Canyon

I’ve already whined about the slots, and I’ve really only got one shot that I like from that morning, from Spooky slot.  It’s a good thing I shot its neighbor, Peek-A Boo Canyon, several years ago.

 

Broken Bow Arch, reflected

Another thing that keeps crowds out of well-known places is the need to hike.  Broken Bow arch was a new spot for me, and the four of us were delightfully alone down there.  The midday light isn’t ideal, but perhaps I’ll get a permit and spend the night down there one day.

Backlighted cottonwood and desert varnish

The hike to Broken bow yielded some lovely detail shots as well.

 

Calf Creek Falls

Luck gave us a few minutes more or less to ourselves at Lower Calf Creek Falls.  It was a wet winter in the Southwest, so we were fortunate with the high flows as well. We started passing people on the hike back. And more people.  I’d say there were 200 in all.  You can imagine what the parking situation was like.  My advice: go early. 

Long Canyon area

Photographers say that the way to make harsh or overcast mid-day light work photographically is to use black and white.  We had a little drive-by at Long Canyon along the Burr Trail and that wisdom worked out well for me.

Bryce Detail

Speaking of drive-bys, we spent an hour or so in Bryce Canyon National Park, taking advantage of the last bits of snow among the hoodoos.  I expect people there, and there’s plenty of room, so the crowds weren’t so much of an issue.  Well, except when (ahem) looking for a place to relieve myself discreetly.

 

House Rock Valley Road

Coming down 89A from the Kaibab Plateau, we say expanses of purple.  I’ve never seen this before, and I don’t know what the flower species is (help would be appreciated), but they were very photogenic in the House Rock Valley Road area.

 

White Pocket

White Pocket. I’ve camped there about 8 nights in the last ten years or so.  There’s hardly ever been anyone there other than my group.  It’s perhaps the worst example of the Instagram syndrome we saw; we were inundated.  There were about 25 people camping, some out on the rocks themselves rather than in the usual (away from the photogenic stuff) camping spots.  People had hung glow-sticks (presumably for night navigation) and were flying drones.  The most positive thing I can say about all this is that there’s a creative challenge inherent in composing images in order to avoid 15 photographers in my foreground. This is a special place, but I might not be back.

Finally, the undisclosed location.  I’m so grateful to Brent for the opportunity to see and photograph this alcove.  In addition to the grandeur of the architecture, this place has delicate, untouched rock fins whose beauty broke my heart. I’ve written about this before.  Perhaps it’s inevitable that this place will become known, but I’m committed to not publishing its whereabouts on the internet.  Not on my watch.

So at the end of our adventure, there was this magical place not yet reached by the Instagram syndrome. What a privilege.

More from this adventure can be found in the Utah Gallery on the website.

Stumbled Upon

 

Boondocking with the Raven in the Harquahala Mountains AZ

Well, I’m happy to report that the first solo mission in the Raven came off without a hitch.  I thought it would be a good idea to get comfortable with the new rig in a familiar, close-by environment, so I headed for the Harquahala Mountains, about an hour from home.

 

Unconventional light, Harquahala Mountains AZ

It’s been a while, and I’d forgotten how good solo boondocking is for clearing my mind.  I got thinking about how crowded some of the famous photo spots have gotten over the last decade or so. Largely, this has to do with the Instagram syndrome.  For me, the crush of humanity makes the time I spend in nature much less pleasant.

 

Tortured trees, Humboldt County CA

So lately I’ve been seeking out quiet places and just wandering around to see what I might stumble upon (figuratively, most of the time.) I choose what I think will be (photographic) target-rich environments and end up shooting more of the quieter, smaller scenes that have lately come to be called intimate landscapes. Not only can I avoid throngs of people, but I’m much less likely to make an image that we’ve all seen many times before.

 

Chollas reaching warp speed, Harquahala Mountains AZ

Another path to creativity in these quiet places is to ask the “What if” questions that Coleen Miniuk talked about in her last “Dear Bubbles” post.  It’s good to color outside the lines sometimes.  Here's one example; an image of cholla cactus with backlight.  I moved the camera during the exposure just to see what would happen.  They look to me as if they’re accelerating to warp speed.

 

Soft light and fog, Clear Lake CA

Sometimes I wonder whether I’m missing something, or whether I should be following the crowd.  Then I remember the peace and creativity that comes with stumbling and I carry on.

 

Color in the fog, Sonoma County CA

So, I posted some examples from the last month or so here for fun. More from the winter shoots so far are in the current Winter Gallery on the website.

Peak Baggers

 

Dune Detail, Mojave Desert

We’d been posted up at one of my favorite spots in the Mojave for half a day when the van pulled up, about 45 minutes after sunset. This place is isolated.  Earlier in the day I’d been thinking that the nearest human was likely 10 miles or more away.  The van contained a couple from Marin County CA who, it turned out, were “trying to see as many sand dunes as possible.”  Apparently they’ve seen dunes in 20 locations this season. When it became clear that they planned to camp 25 feet from us, I pointed out that there was another spot just up the road.  What I should have said, I suppose, is that camping etiquette dictates giving those who arrive first some space.  His response (I did manage not to laugh) was that he was not comfortable driving in sand.  I’m thinking safe driving in sand would be a good skill to have when driving from one dune field to another.

Yes, I’ve talked about rude campers before.  This is a different rant.  About the “peak bagger,” or the “been there, done that” phenomenon as I’ve heard Michael DeYoung call it.

The fundamental issue for me is respect for the land; the kind of veneration that comes from deep knowledge and humble exploration.  Perhaps right-minded bucket-listers exist, but I don’t believe I’ve met any, and furthermore I’m convinced that those who dash from one location to the next do the most damage, leaving trash and human waste and camping where they shouldn’t.  I respectfully submit that we can only know the land by slowing down and getting to know a place, spending time and being mindful.

Whew.  Rant over.

Cactus Detail, Mojave Desert

 It occurs to me that I’ve been communing happily with the Mojave Desert since my dad introduced us to its charms when we were kids.  Of course, the swimming pools in our Palm Springs hotels were a big draw, but the experience of feeling evening in the desert and seeing the bats come out of the mountains for the night have stayed with me.  Then my university botany class, which included a field trip to Anza Borrego State Park to learn about spring flowers, brought that all back.  I was hooked, and even before photography became important to me, I’d scoot off to the Mojave whenever I could. 

Sunrise Spotlight, Mojave Desert

There’s a sparseness and a specific magical quiet which, once experienced, is with you forever.  For solitude junkies like me, there are ample opportunities to get away from the famous places which are often overrun.  With patience and a good vehicle or the willingness to walk, there’s quite a bit to be discovered despite the Instagram syndrome. 

 

First Light, Caruthers Canyon, Mojave National Preserve

I’m on board with the “Tag Responsibly” movement, but I’ll identify one location from last week’s trip since it’s on the Mojave Preserve’s list of places to dispersed camp. So, not a secret. Besides, the road is not for the faint of heart.  Caruthers Canyon has long been on my list.  It contains a lovely Pinon Juniper forest and lies at about 5500ft elevation.  There was snow on the ground when we arrived.  That and the big granitic boulders made for lovely scenery.

Cloud Drama, Mojave National Preserve

A little lower in elevation is our favorite Joshua Tree forest.  The crazy, windblown clouds made for a particularly photogenic day.  In the morning I was surrounded by coyotes singing to each other while waiting for the sun to come up.  This is the music of a wild space.

Pastel Dunes, Mojave National Preserve

And then there were the dunes.  I can never get enough of dawn light on dune textures or the pastels when the sun is below the horizon.

I expect I’ll keep deepening my connection to this land as long as I’m able.  If I don’t see 20 different sand dune fields this year, that’s OK.

Thanks for the read.

There’s more on the newly minted Mojave Desert Gallery on the website.