A Canyon's Reminder
If there were a theme for this autumn, it would be "taking chances" (more on that in an upcoming blog post.) We took many photographic chances this fall and traveled far and wide to chase those chances. But after eight weeks of travel and teaching, a photography and personal respite was needed. I needed a "slow down" of sorts. Although I had many opportunities to photograph, I started feeling scattered with my photography. Despite this, it's been a productive autumn, and I'm grateful for the places and travels I've experienced and seen. But now and then, I need to lay all expectations, schedules and goals down and reconnect with Nature. No itinerary, no expectations. Last week, in the heart of a canyon, I found myself with that quiet kind of freedom, an unburdened sense of exploration.
Wandering around central Utah last week, I adventured down a canyon that isn't well-known and, according to the internet, was labeled as "boring" by others. David and I headed off to this little canyon tucked away in the sandstone desert landscape. I had no expectations, no images to strive for, only the chance to be guided by the canyon's natural rhythm. It was a perfect day to hike, with soft, diffused light thanks to a blanket of clouds. Now and then, the sun would make an appearance and disappear again. I packed a light pack and only carried my camera with my 24-200 lens, which I affectionately call my "walk around lens" because it allows me to be creative with my preferred focal lengths and follow my flashes of perception.
As I hiked deeper into the canyon, something caught my eye. The canyon walls revealed a mesmerizing white swirl of layered sandstone. This sandstone was unlike any sandstone walls I'd ever seen before, and it was a beautiful departure from the familiar reds and oranges that I typically see in the desert. The white striations looked almost like brushstrokes from a primordial hand. These layers told their own story of geologic patience, each line capturing a different moment in time. I lost myself photographing these walls, and there were new patterns to get lost in around each bend. I couldn't believe what I had stumbled upon, and I felt like I'd uncovered an artist's hidden gallery. There were spectacular layers and cross-bedding patterns and much to photograph. I lost all sense of time and lost myself in each scene, which is what my photography soul needed. The canyon's silence was punctuated by the song of juncos flying through the canyon and an occasional raven keeping a watchful eye.
This discovery reminded me of the value of releasing expectations—a lesson the wilderness often holds quietly for those who listen. Though I strive to let go of preconceived ideas when I set out to photograph, Nature offers gentle nudges when reminders are needed. Had I been fixated on a particular image or subject, I might have passed by this canyon, missing the remarkable details that only reveal themselves when we open ourselves to chance.
If I had listened to the reports online and not explored based on that, I would have missed this experience entirely. It was a good lesson and reminder to release expectations, slow down and venture out for yourself and your eyes to create and photograph your experiences. Taking a chance to wander through an unknown canyon was a quiet invitation to embrace the landscape with an open heart, to trust that sometimes imagery emerges only when we stop searching and take chances on uncharted places.
