Category: Utah

Natural Bridges: Beauty, Bears, and Backaches Picture of the Month - Natural Bridges National Monument

Eroded rock overhang with dark varnish stains in Natural Bridges National Monument
Ancient Waterway Overhang with Varnish Stains—Sedimentary layers and mineral stains highlight the geological history of this Natural Bridges formation.

I may not be the rugged outdoorsman that I appear to be. Until two years ago, Queen Anne’s and my camping world revolved around our little Casita trailer. We took it everywhere, from the Grand Canyon to Alaska. However, we had to part with it due to unforeseen circumstances and began using motels for our overnight trips.

As much as we enjoy watching The Big Bang Theory reruns in our motel room at night, it’s not the same as sitting around a campfire under the stars and eating Jimmyums. Recently, I decided that I would get back to basics on my next photo shoot—and the perfect opportunity was coming up.

Queen Anne’s Adventure

Anne’s sister Jane called about one of her bucket list items: a road trip to Utah’s Mighty-Five National Parks. Anne jumped at the chance to travel with her sister and even offered to drive. Their tour started for two weeks but got whittled down to a week by the time they left. While they were off ‘Thelma and Louise’-ing their way across the Beehive State, I decided to use that time to explore the Bears Ears National Monument near Blanding. After all, when we bought the Turd—my RAV4—I made sure there was room for me to stretch out in the back.

View of Owachomo Bridge from the canyon rim in Natural Bridges National Monument
Natural Beauty: Owachomo Bridge from Above- The delicate span of Owachomo Bridge is set against the rugged canyon landscape.

Preparation for the Trip

As I prepared for my adventure, I dug out the remains of our camping gear from the attic and added some kitchen items to augment them. Since I’d be alone, I bought a bunch of canned goods for food, reducing the need for an ice chest. I always heated them on my single-burner propane stove when I camped as a younger man. Besides, Cup-O-Noodles and coffee make for an easy, warm meal on those chilly mornings.

One thing I splurged on was a heavy-duty air mattress. I can no longer tolerate sleeping on a hard surface without a cushion. The one I bought from Amazon was designed to fit in the back of SUVs. It’s T-shaped and broad at the back doors, then narrows between the wheel wells. Another nice feature is that each side inflates independently—so I could pack my camp boxes on the deflated side while day traveling. Did I mention that it was guaranteed not to leak? Yeah, about that…

Once the girls got a head start, I carefully packed my new mattress, all of my photo gear, plenty of clean socks and undies, and the rest of my provisions into the Turd and set off on my 9-hour journey to Natural Bridges National Monument in Utah. On the road again—what could go wrong?

The Struggle

I arrived at the park after 4:00 p.m., so the campground was full. I expected that, but the BLM runs the Mani-La Sal forest, so throw-down camping is permitted, and I had ample time to find a good spot. Before long, I backed into a lovely level spot surrounded by Ponderosa pines beneath the towering red cliffs of Bears Ears.

The air had a damp-cool chill, so I put on the sweater I brought before setting up camp. Since I didn’t have a table, I used my sturdy camp box for one, which doubled as an ottoman after dinner. I stowed the rest of my boxes on the truck roof to keep them out of the dirt.

After emptying the back of the Turd, I unrolled my mattress and started inflating it using the portable pump that it came with. Before I began to inflate the passenger side, I looked closely at the sky and felt it would rain, so I moved the rest of my boxes back inside along the flaccid side of the bed. It cramped my bed space, but I’d be fine since I wasn’t planning on spooning with a bear.

Before dinner, I had time to wander and capture video clips of the red cliffs and trees in the sunset. Upon returning to camp, I prepared an Epicurean meal of warmed-over canned ravioli, a cup of peaches, and a cup of tapioca pudding. As the night grew late, I gathered my things and climbed into the back of the truck. Ah! The life of Reilly.

Outside was silence except for the trees rustling in the gentle breeze—a cowboy’s lullaby. The yellow moonlight was coming in the passenger side windows as I dozed off. I watched it a bit before snuggling into my sleeping bag as sleep crept over me.

The next thing I knew was feeling uncomfortable and opening my eyes to figure out the irritation. The moonlight was now at the back door, so hours must have passed. The mattress still had air, and the sleeping bag was warm. What’s nagging me? Then it hit me: as an old man with a prostate the size of a grapefruit, I had to pee. The one thing that I hadn’t taken into consideration. I needed to get up and out of the truck—NOW.

First, I untangled myself from the twisted sleeping bag and opened the zipper. I began feeling around for my boots, and as I tried to put them on, the laces were tight, so I had to fix that. Once I had them on my feet, I opened the door on my right. While grabbing the handle over it, I tried lifting my legs and pivoting them out the opening, but my right leg got caught in the useless seat belt harness. After freeing myself from the straps, I successfully extracted myself. As I slowly unrolled into a standing position, my back said, “Don’t ever do that again.” But it was not to be. Simone Biles would have been proud to pull off that gymnastics routine once, but I did it three more times that night—and my back seized up in protest.

View of Kachina Bridge from the canyon rim in Natural Bridges National Monument
Natural Splendor: Kachina Bridge from the Rim-Kachina Bridge’s grand arch spans the lush canyon below, offering a stunning contrast of colors.

Where’s My Towel?

I could barely walk when I got out of the truck the final time. Dawn lit the eastern sky, so I hobbled over to my chair and managed to put on a pot of water. As I sat and drank my instant coffee, I pondered my predicament. I had driven a long way and hadn’t snapped a single photo, but I certainly couldn’t spend another night injuring myself in the truck. Not until I can figure out a better method of extracting myself.

I threw in the towel. After my coffee, I started packing the truck, including the camp box that was now too heavy for me to move. I had to remove its contents, then drag the big empty box into the Turd, and finally repack it.

Play Through the Pain

After I had loaded the RAV4, I drove back to the park’s visitor center. It was closed, and I had the entire park to myself. I convinced myself that I could do some shooting even if it meant not hiking down into the canyons. So, as daylight broke, I raced another car from Texas from overlook to overlook, taking pictures. Where the hikes were level and short, I walked like Quasimodo, pulling myself on the handrails where I could.

Storm clouds gathering over Cedar Mesa Sandstone in Natural Bridges National Monument
Thunderstorm Approaching Cedar Mesa Sandstone in Utah – The interplay of storm clouds and Cedar Mesa Sandstone highlights the raw beauty of Natural Bridges.

Notes To Future Self

After I returned home and reviewed my images on the computer, I was happy to find they were publishable—I must have been on auto-pilot. They weren’t the ones I hoped to get, but that encouraged me to return soon. Even hiking in pain may have been beneficial. My back feels much better after a week of rest and light work. The constant low-level pain is there, but that’s how people my age know which of their body parts are still attached. I also conjured some strategery for the next trip—like providing a handy stash for my car keys, opening the tailgate with my remote, and then rolling over on my hands and knees and backing out that door. I’m also going to keep a pair of loafers in the Turd.

Thank you for joining us again this month. I hope you enjoyed my Utah horror story more than I did. As we customarily do, larger versions of my photos are available for you to examine on my website <Jim’s New Work> and on the pages that I created on Fine Art America <FAA Page>. They will be on display for three months before being rotated. Finally, Queen Anne and I can hardly wait to hear the ribbing you’ll give in the comment section. Please share your thoughts about the photos, camping, Utah, or travel horror stories. We love to hear from you.

Until then, keep your spirits high and your Ben Gay handy.
jw.

Eagle Crags Picture of the Week

Eagle Crags - Red-rock Vermilion Cliff outcrops covered in snow make a perfect Christmas greeting card.
Eagle Crags – Red-rock Vermilion Cliff outcrops covered in the snow make a perfect Christmas greeting card.

Have you ever been in a situation where you had to resort to Plan B at the last moment—and in the end, Plan B was always the better choice? In a convoluted way, that’s what I did to bring you this week’s picture. Let me start at the beginning.

When I set up my December project, I already had four photos picked out. Three of them went up without a hitch, and the last was scheduled for today. I thought it was a doozy—a view of looking down the stairwell of the Hassayampa Inn. You know, one of those shots where the stairs wrap around the frame and seem to go on forever. In the photography world, if you see a shot like that and don’t snap the photo, they will revoke your Artist License.

When I looked at the file closely this week, it was too blurry. The stairwell was dark, and I didn’t hold the camera steady enough while the shutter was open. If you saw it from across a large room, you couldn’t tell, but on close inspection, it looked like something my Aunt Kay would take. I gave up and deleted the file like the professors told me.

Now I panicked and started looking through my files for an alternative. This is where I got distracted and began chasing squirrels. My RAW image files are only halfway organized. I started a system a couple of years ago where I keep them grouped by State-Location-Year (I have so many Arizona pictures that I include a county folder, State-County-Location-Year). Since we moved to Congress, I’ve used this system, but my older files haven’t yet been sorted. It’s one of those Round-To-It things. You’ve probably guessed that I picked this week to start organizing and forgot that I was looking for this week’s post.

I was working on a 12-year-old file from a trip that my friend Jeff and I made to Zion National Park. We’d driven there on the long Thanksgiving weekend and shared a motel room. One image mixed in among the others was a shot of a Vermillion Cliffs uplift called Eagle Crags. When I looked at this image, I wondered, “Why haven’t I ever shown this file?” The mystery was solved when I looked at the file data. The camera that I used had a limited file size and couldn’t be used to make decent prints, so I considered it a snapshot of the weekend.

As I looked at the broken snow-covered sandstone, I remembered that Adobe had added a Photoshop tool that added pixels to an image from thin air—using artificial intelligence. So, I dug around and processed my small file using the “Super-Rez” tool, and the results were impressive. The original file would comfortably fit on a 5”x4” photo, but if you visit my store, you can see what it would look like 5 feet wide. It’s good enough to include on my Web Pages. So while I’m stuck in the house recovering from the crud Queen Anne passed to me, I can wade through more files and discover other hidden gems.

You can see a larger version of Eagle Crags on its Webpage by clicking here. I hope you agree that it’s a lovely Christmas card from Queen Anne and me. Next week we begin a New Year, a new month, and a new project. Be sure to come back then and see where the road takes us.

Till next time
Jw

BTW:

From the Witkowski household to you, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year.

Snow Canyon—The Book      New book announcement

Do you remember from my first of this month’s post—Stacked Arches—where I said, “There’s enough to photograph within the park’s boundaries to fill a small picture book?” Well, there is—and I have—so I did. This short particular midweek post announces my latest book—Snow Canyon.

Snow Canyon - The Book - my latest book will be released next week, but you can get a sneak peak by clicking here.
Snow Canyon – The Book – my latest book will be released next week, but you can get a sneak peek by clicking here.

They haven’t released it yet; that will happen sometime next week on Amazon. It’s available in two versions. The first is a hardcover with a dust jacket. The paper I used was the best offered, so I expect the photos reproduction to be outstanding. The second variation has a soft cover and is printed on upgraded paper stock.

It’s a self-published book, like my others, so, unfortunately, its cost is prohibitive—unless you want to buy 100 copies or more. However, I wanted you—my subscribers—to enjoy it, so I’m providing a link to a free version in PDF format as a way of saying thanks for hanging out with me.

Once you download the PDF (2MB), you can read it, print it, tape it to your fridge, or line your parrot cage. It’s yours to do as you wish. Get your copy by clicking on the cover shot above or on this link: Snow Canyon—The Book.

I hope your New Years’ celebration is safe and sane. I’d like you to be around next year when we go to many exciting new places.

Now, we will return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Until next time — jw

Lava Grass  Picture of the Week

Christmas, along with the rest of the solstice holidays, is almost over. I hope that Santa brought you something better than the lump of coal I got. Queen Anne is on the couch in her bathrobe and tiara with a box of Kleenex. She’ll be useless until Amazon Prime stops showing Christmas movies. Since we won’t be back before then, we’d like to wish you the best New Year in 2022. Things have got to turn around eventually, so let’s give it a go one more time.

Today, I will finish up the year, and our visit to Snow Canyon State Park by talking about the other rock found there—basalt from recent lava flows. If wind, water, and ice sculpt sandstone, the cooled magma is geology’s Etch-a-Sketch reset button. The black rock covers the softer sandstone and forces water to change course. The runoff carves different canyons, like in the park.

As you explore the park’s north side, you’ll see basalt-covered cliffs. They used to be the canyon floor, but 27,000 years ago, the lava forced the drainage west and carved a new floor—now a couple of hundred feet lower. Snow Canyon has a couple of trails that wander through the jagged black rocks; the Lava Tube and the Cinder Cone trails. The latter is interesting because you can hike to the cone’s rim and look into the extinct caldera. However, the track is uphill, and on the east side of State Route 18, so we skipped it.

Lava Tube - When the magma skin cools and then ruptures, the flowing magma escapes leaving behind a cave.
Lava Tube – When the magma skin cools and then ruptures, the flowing magma escapes leaving behind a cave.

The Lava Tube Trail is shorter,  level, and leads to two lava tubes—which are places where the hardened surface fractures releasing the still molten magma inside to flow away. The remaining caves are sometimes big enough that you can crawl into and see where the bats and spiders live—I’ll pass. The above photo is the smaller tube, and visitors— braver than I—crawl into it.

Lava Grass - A small tuft of grass ekes out a living in barren basalt.
Lava Grass – A small tuft of grass ekes a living in barren basalt.

I find basalt a challenging subject to photograph. It’s like taking a picture of a black cat in a coal mine. To get any detail, you need to over-expose, which washes out the rich depth. Fortunately, and is the case with this week’s picture that I call Lava Grass, there’s enough green lichen growing on the rock to prevent the shadows from completely blocking up.

I feel lucky to have spotted the tuft of dried grass surviving in the barren rock. I concentrated hard on staying upright as I hiked the trail in the early morning. The jagged basalt is not skin-friendly and will likely draw blood if you fall on it. And—silly me—I left my bicycle helmet at home.

You can see a larger version of Lava Grass on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week we start a new year, with a new project in a new location. Be sure to come back and see where the road takes us.

Until next time — jw

Cup Holders Picture of the Week

I will pause our Snow Canyon State Park tour for a couple of paragraphs so we can run over to the coast. Don’t worry; we won’t have to put up with any of those weird Californians. Where we’re going, they don’t exist yet. We’re not traveling far—maybe a foot or two. However, we are breaking every law in physics to travel back one-hundred-eight million years ago—to the Jurassic era. You can turn around now and take in the Sundance Sea, right here in southern Utah (how old is Robert Redford anyway). Don’t go in the water. Big things in there will eat you like you’re a gummy bear.

Turn back this way and look down the shoreline. Massive dunes—hundreds of feet high—go on for hundreds of miles. Until now, it’s been hot and dry here along the Equator, but the climate is changing. It’s becoming muggier and swamp-like. The oceans are rising, and soon (in geological time), the water will cover the sand and pile more sediment. The pressure on the dunes will bind them into stone—never to be seen again.

Things would have stayed that way, except our stupid captain rammed the North American plate into the Pacific Plate, and there goes the neighborhood. The crash spun us around and raised the Rockies, the Sierra Nevada, and all the other little wrinkles in between. The resulting damage cracked the mantle so badly that volcanoes could form, raising the Colorado Plateau. Then the Californians move in—can it get any worse?

The crash shoved our peaceful little seaside village up a hillside. We no longer live in a basin where sediments collect. Now, our water flows to a place far away. It peels back layers of rock—like an onion when it does. After erosion uncovers parts of the great dunes, we’ll see them again here in St. George, Zion, and north of Escalante. Now they’re as hard as a rock.

Dune Walkers - About the only way you can stay on the Petrified Dune Trail is to go on a guided hike, like these people.
Dune Walkers—The only way to stay on the Petrified Dune Trail is to go on a guided hike like these eight people.

You can snap out of it now and return to reality, where we’re standing on the Petrified Dunes Trail. Because it’s all rock, the only clue you have to follow is the path worn smooth from countless boots. It’s easy to leave it, but that’s fine because you won’t damage anything. The rock grips like sandpaper, making it easy to scramble up and down the slopes. As you wander across the uniformly fractured rock, you examine the exceptions.

Cup Holders - Freezing water bores into the sand stone and will over time reduce the rock to sand grains.
Cup Holders – Freezing water bores into the sandstone and reducing the rock to sand grains over time.

That’s how I found this week’s picture. The round wells in the picture are places where water is collected and has a chance to freeze. As the ice expanded, it fractured the sandstone and chipped it. These spots get deeper; they’ll hold more water and bore into the stone faster. Eventually, they’ll be so deep that they’ll split the block until it reverts to sand grains. I think the shapes of the cups are fantastic, but I like the rich and varied colors in the stone. When you look closely at this, sandstone has a lot of depth and texture.

Click here to see a larger version of Cup Holders on its Web Page. Come back next week when I’ll tell you about how the stupid captain left the kettle on too long and spilled hot lava all over the park.

Until next time — jw

Arch and Honeycomb Weathering Picture of the Week

When you were a child and thunder was new to you, did your mother try to console you by explaining that the noise was just God and the angels bowling in heaven? My mom did that. I believed her because she’d never lie to me, and she knew I’d catch her (although I don’t understand why Santa stopped sending me $20 at Christmas when she died). She always told people that I was their peer, although there may be more intelligent children. Well, what her exact words were is, “He sure ain’t the brightest kid in the class.”

Arch and Honeycomb Weathering - inside the cave on the Jenny's Canyon Trail are a natural window and Honeycomb Weathering.
Arch and Honeycomb Weathering -Inside the cave at the end of Jenny’s Canyon Trail are a natural window and Honeycomb Weathering.

This memory comes to mind because I think I’ve captured the scoreboard that the angels used. It’s visible in this week’s picture—the rows of distorted cribbage holes. If one of the bowlers threw a strike, a lightning bolt would cause a tree to burst into flames. Then they’d advance their marker into the next hole. The one that got their rock in the last spot won. It’s that simple.

I did a lot of online research to prove my thesis, but I found nothing. Instead, the experts call this kind of erosion honeycomb weathering. It’s not clearly understood, but it’s an alchemy of rock, salt, rain, freezing, and expansion. You also have to hold your tongue just right while you’re making it. I saw this type of erosion before in Canyonlands National Park when we visited too long ago, so I assume that it’s shared across Southern Utah’s sandstone formations.

This example of honeycomb weathering is in Utah’s Snow Canyon in a place they call Jenny’s Canyon. It’s at the end of a half-mile (round trip) trail near the park’s south entrance, and it was the shortest and the most rewarding of the side trips that we took. The trail leads to a slot canyon in the sandstone, but not the usual slot. Unlike Antelope Canyon near Page—where running water has cut a course into the sandstone—this is one of those stacked dunes (see last week’s picture) with a gap between the layers. Jenny’s Canyon begins as a typical slot, but dead ends in a short cave. I took my shot from inside the cave.

If you think some weird bacteria are growing on the cave walls, let me explain the color. Like wearing a pair of rose-colored glasses, when the sunlight bounces off the red sandstone, it adds that color to the reflected light, and that’s why the back wall seems to glow orange. Other photographers have successfully captured this phenomenon at Bryce Canyon, but I’ve been unlucky so far. “Damn you, Bryce. I’ll get you one day.”

Jenny's Canyon Sky - Because the canyon walls almost touch, the view of the sky is a narrow ribbon in Jenny's Canyon.
Jenny’s Canyon Sky – Because the canyon walls almost touch, the view of the sky is a narrow ribbon in Jenny’s Canyon.

The second image that I included to illustrate my post is the sky from Jenny’s slot canyon. I’ve seen photos like this, and I wanted one of my own. I think the blue against the glowing orange and dark walls look like torn craft paper glued on one another as a collage. I consider it an abstract because it has no story of its own.

You can see a larger version of Arch and Honeycomb Weathering on its Web Page by clicking here. Come back next week to see the next trail that we explored. It’s not far up the road.

Until next time — jw

Stacked Arches Picture of the Week

Queen Anne and I drove out of the Sonoran Desert to the frozen north this week. No, I don’t mean Alaska or even Canada, but the land of young men dressed in white shirt black tie uniforms that ride bikes in pairs and come to redeem your soul—and don’t even bring cookies to sell. Of course, I’m talking about Utah. When we arrived, we found the same weather we had at home. It’s December—what happened to the snow?

Stacked Dunes - Petrified dunes stacked like records in a jukebox for the western wall of Snow Canyon State Pare in St. George, Utah.
Stacked Dunes – Petrified dunes stacked like records in a jukebox for the western wall of Snow Canyon State Park in St. George, Utah.

We made the five-hour drive to St. George specifically for this month’s project. A couple of years ago—after I published my State Route 12 magazine—one of my cronies said, “Have you been to Snow Canyon. You ought to go—it’s beautiful.” I had never heard of it, but I was impressed enough to add it to my destination list after doing some online research.

I love shooting on the Colorado Plateau, which takes up most of Utah and the excess spills into neighboring states. People have even complained I spend too much time shooting there. Much like a wine snob will order a glass of ABC (Anything But Chardonnay). But, the plateau is addictive for me. It’s too easy to get compelling images there, and you all know how lazy I am.

St. George is along Interstate 15 (initially a Mormon trade route), at the western edge of the Colorado Plateau. It’s a pretty community nestled among several mountain ranges, but we’ve never spent time there for a couple of reasons. First, we only passed through to somewhere else, and second, on our honeymoon, I had to stop and buy a tire there … on Sunday … at a Chevron station because the whole state closes on the Sabbath.

The town has changed over the last 33 years; from an agricultural center to a full-blown resort. The downtown, around the Temple, still has an old mid-west charm, but the mansions that line the cliffs and surround Snow Canyon are right out of Aspen, Snow Mass, or Sedona. Utahans see St. George as their Riviera, so there seems to be a rush to build a second home there. The views are essential, so they’re stacking McMansions side by side along the ridgelines. Their views must be spectacular, but from below, it’s vulgar.

In the middle of this wealth and consumption is Snow Canyon State Park. Originally called Dixie State Park, officials created it in 1959 by combining donated BLM land with a $20,000 ranch purchase (sigh). The state later changed the name to honor Mormon elders. You probably have seen it if you’ve watched Butch Cassidy, Jeremiah Johnson, or the Electric Horseman movies. The entry fee is $8.00, and there are over 30 campsites available starting from $30.00 a night.

My first impression of Snow Canyon was, “Gee, this is small.” The north-south road is approximately 11 miles between the two entrances. But, the park floor climbs a thousand feet in that distance, and there are 12 hiking trails along its length. Packed into that relatively small area is a miniature version of the Escalante Grand Staircase. At the bottom is the reddish-orange sandstone layer common to Kanab, and that’s topped with white Navajo Sandstone as you see in Zion National Park. Black lava flows are mixed with the colorful sandstone, and Signal Mountain provides a grand backdrop. There’s enough to photograph within the park’s boundaries to fill a small picture book (hmmm, there’s an idea).

This week’s picture is a teaser. I took it from the park’s top looking south at petrified dunes stacked up like records in a Wurlitzer jukebox, so I called it Stacked Dunes. The dunes are along the park’s west wall and rise a thousand feet above the valley floor. I couldn’t help but dot the sky with some happy little cirrus clouds as icing. Can you blame me?

You can see a larger version of Stacked Dunes on its Web Page by clicking here. Come back next when we show you pictures of the trails we explored (that’s right, I got Anne out of the truck and down a trail). We’ll start at the park’s south for December and work our way north. It’ll be fun.

Until next time — jw