I watched the beginnings of the rainbow creep skyward, the arc of light reaching across Alien Throne, and then, remarkably, a double rainbow materialized. I thought I was photographing a moment of sheer perfection and was making a timeless photograph.
Suddenly, I was, as it all turned out, wrong.
Instead, I was bearing witness to the last days of Alien Throne, for days after I made my seminal photograph, Alien Rainbow, severe weather would collapse this iconic landmark.
But let’s back up to how it all came about.
My good friend Cody, a remarkable photographer, was in town and wanted to see Alien Throne. He’d never been there, and now was as good a time as any to see it. Well, almost. The weather over the last few days had been severe and stormy, and it showed no sign of letting up. Looking carefully at the forecasting, we knew we had a slim chance to make it the one day that worked for us, so we decided to take a chance and head out there.
Reaching Alien Throne is both simple and complicated. Under normal conditions, the approach follows easily passable country roads and a final, rugged mile and a half on a two-track. In good weather, a 4×4 can handle the route with ease, and the journey is entirely predictable and enjoyable.
Today was different. The storms, many severe, ravaged the area just south of Farmington, New Mexico, for the last few days. The rain storms swept through, dumping rounds of heavy rain, and then moving on. The rain had transformed the country roads into a thick, muddy sludge. The mud gripped the tires of my 4Runner, threatening to pull us to a stop. Standing water on the road masked unseen ruts, making every puddle an unknown challenge.
The final mile and a half offered no respite. The two-track, normally just deep ruts through a field, had transformed into something far more treacherous. The channels were now filled with water, turning the track into a series of hidden traps. The constant threat of high-centering hung over us. The mud stood ready to swallow us if we made even one wrong move. And once stuck, recovery would take days, if not longer.
Although it wasn’t raining when we went out, the storm cells were at our back. It was a constant conversation of whether we should continue or turn back. Eventually, the storm cells cut off the way back, making the decision for us. It was forward and there was no turning back. We could continue past our destination and reach pavement in another fifteen miles, but there were storms ahead of us, too. So, our decision wasn’t really a choice at all.
We made it to the parking area and situated my 4Runner for a muddy escape. We donned our rain gear and started the mile and a quarter hike. With any luck, the rain would hold off. We’d make it there and back, then work out the best way to drive back to Farmington.
Cody and I are have experience in the desert and inclement weather. We had provisions for several days, and we knew there was a very real possibility that we’d need them.
The first quarter mile of the hike was pleasant. It was a cool day, perfect for hiking. But then the rain came in. Not a gentle rain, mind you, but the full force of a supercell that was terrorizing the desert. The rain came down in unrelenting sheets.
We looked at each other. We decided the safest and smartest choice of action was to head back to the 4Runner and wait for the storm to pass and the roads to dry a little, regardless of how long that took.
Naturally, we turned our backs to the 4Runner and kept going toward Alien Throne instead.
The storm transformed our easy hike into a battle. The desert floor turned into a thick, clinging mud that fought our every step. Even with our understanding of how water moves through the desert, there was no ignoring the predatory shift in the air. As we trudged through the rain, we watched the water rise through the desert all around us, the situation growing more perilous with every step we took.
We kept to the higher ridges, which extended our hike. Any time we had to leave a ridgeline, even though the ridges were just a few feet higher than the floor, we scurried through the low areas, for that is where the danger lies. Eyes peeled, we trudged through the desert and water, ever onward.
Eventually, we made it to the formation Alien Throne is in, and the supercell finally passed. Perfect timing! We waded through a small creek and several large puddles to locate our quarry, and there it was, standing tall against the storm.
The next few hours were magical. The skies were big and messy. Clouds scuttled across the sky, and we watched more supercells form in the distance. We kept a sharp eye on the weather at all times and never, ever ignored it. Cell phone service in the Valley of Dreams, where Alien Throne is located, is spotty, so you can’t depend on radar, and certainly not on forecasting. It’s up to you and your knowledge of how weather works to keep yourself safe.
We photographed Alien Throne and explored the area. After an afternoon of adventure, we were relaxing when we saw the scraps of a rainbow form. We couldn’t believe our eyes!
Then, we quickly scrambled to get set up. The very weather that caused us so much anguish was now giving us an incredible treat and a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Within moments the arc of the rainbow reached across the sky, perfectly framing the iconic hoodoo. Then, against all odds, a double rainbow formed! Talk about being in the right place at the right time!
Making Alien Rainbow provided the perfect culmination to the struggle. The day had finally turned in our favor.
We lingered out there for a while, alternately basking in sunshine and experiencing small rain showers. Eventually, as the sunset was approaching, we knew there would not be a dramatic sunset and certainly no chance for Milky Way photography, which was one of our goals, if conditions worked out.
We said goodbye to Alien Throne and the Valley of Dreams. I had plans to come back to Alien Throne and photograph it again. I didn’t know my goodbyes were final.
We set off at a brisk pace back to the 4Runner, easily making it just before full dark and without incident.
We headed back toward Farmington. The two-track was now quite muddy and definitely sketchy. There were a couple of places that were difficult, but we made it back to the country road. Now, we’re in the dark, and the roads were wet and unstable. Not a good place to be, but there was nothing for it but continue on.
We made it, although the area that was previously washed out now had running water through it, which was challenging to navigate. There was standing water on the dirt roads, which was also an obstacle. We made it back to the pavement just as more rain came in, and the rest of the drive was easy enough.
What happened next is unclear. The Four Corners area of the Southwest, which is where New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado meet, experienced once-in-a-century rainstorms. The rain was torrential and heavy. The San Juan and Animas rivers rose, breached their banks, and flooded the area.
Roads and highways were destroyed. Entire neighborhoods were erased. The damage and devastation slowly unfolded over the coming days, and yet it kept raining. The entire area is forever changed, and it will take some time to understand the depth of the destruction.
It is highly likely that no one visited Alien Throne during this time, or if they did, they were daring and well equipped. The roads would have been largely impassable during this time and the skies heavy, so there was little reason to be out there.
After the storms broke, the reports started flowing in on social media. Alien Throne had collapsed!
Finally, the pictures came, and indeed, Alien Throne was no more. New Mexico lost its iconic and world-renowned hoodoo. And our photographs were some of the last ones ever.
Time, of course, is what helps create the badlands. Over the years, winds and rains sculpt the sandstone, sometimes eroding it into fantastical and whimsical shapes. We visit these places and marvel at them. We photograph them time and again.
Yet, we seldom stop and reflect that we are in the middle of an ever-changing landscape, albeit at an excruciatingly slow pace. Change here is measured in hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Yet sometimes, change comes instantly.
Alien Throne featured a large cap of sandstone set atop spindly spires of sandstone. In this series of storms, some force of nature, be that wind, water, hail, or all three at once, conspired to erode one small piece away, and the weight of the cap was now just too much. Perhaps it crashed, echoing across the landscape, screaming back at the thunder. Perhaps it just slid quietly to the ground. We’ll never know.
We lost the most iconic and well-known hoodoo in New Mexico.
Time now to explore and find another one. There’s one, or two, or ten, or more, out there, of course. Between the Valley of Dreams, Ah-Shi-Sle-Pah Wilderness, Bisti Wilderness, and De-Nah-Zin Wilderness, there’s bound to be more. The joy is in the discovery.
I’ll leave you with another view of mine, Throne’s Glory. This was my first Milky Way photograph of Alien Throne, and it remains my favorite.
I’ll miss Alien Throne, of course. But change is inevitable and part of the progression of the living landscape. I carry the memory of every visit, forever grateful for the hours I spent staring at it, marveling at how it stood.