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Winter Bison: Delve into astonishing Yellowstone in the winter

May 29, 2024 by David Schneider

Winter is often a quiet time of reflection and contemplation. Idyllic days spent beside a roaring fire are on top. For the more adventurous, skiing, replete with cozy ski lodges and tales of the diamond-level run, is a perfect way to spend a cold winter’s day. For me, however, winter means heading into the depths of Yellowstone National Park just before a snowstorm comes in to experience the park, and its winter denizens, at its most severe. There is, in the end, no place like Yellowstone in the winter. Winter Bison explores the magnificent bison herd.

My goal was simple: photograph the bison in the winter snows. And indeed, in the abstract, it is straightforward to do that. But, as in so many areas of life, the difficulty is in the details, and especially in staying safe and warm.

Much of Yellowstone is technically closed for the winter. Most of the roads are closed in the fall and left to the ravages of the winter snows until they are plowed, with a Herculean effort, in the spring. One road, through, is usually open all year. This road goes from the north to the northeast entrance, and every effort is made to keep it open. For me, though, this is perfect and provides me with access to the winter bison herd.

In practical terms, Yellowstone never really closes. Snow coaches and snow machines use the roadways to move throughout the park once enough snow covers the roads. For my purposes, those options wouldn’t provide me the sustained access I needed to create the photographs I had in mind.

Instead, my plan was to wait for a storm, then position myself to be in the park as soon as the storm broke, if not a little before then. This would, I reasoned, give me the freshest setting possible. Luckily for me, there are plenty of winter storms in that area of the country, so it was merely a matter of finding a big storm, but not so big the park ended up being inaccessible for days.

I packed up my winter gear, braced myself for the cold, and headed into the park after one such storm.

Where I immediately discovered that just because the roads are “open” doesn’t mean they are clear nor easy to drive. Quite the opposite, in fact! Moving around the park ranged from “challenging” to “what am I even doing here.” Some steeper hills had sections that were shaded from the sun, and those proved to be especially challenging. Often, the road had a thick layer of ice, which made driving more like sledding and hoping you ended up where you wanted to go. And, just to tease me, every once in a while I would find a section of the road that was perfectly clear, with no snow nor ice. Those were few and far between, but nice to find, all the same.

There was one very scary moment which still bothers me. I had just turned around to head back to a scene which caught my eye. The road was slick and icy, and maybe I wasn’t as quite on the road as I thought I was. In any event, the tires slid off whatever surface they were on, and I began a slide off the road.

Alarms I didn’t even know my SUV had began going off as the SUV began heading for a signpost, and beyond that, a ditch. Once in that ditch, there was no way I was getting out of that by myself. Miraculously, and I am still not sure how, a tire somehow found traction, and I was catapulted back onto the roadway. Against all odds, I found a bit of control and somehow stayed on the road. All in all, it was an unpleasant reminder of just how difficult the roads can be.

Hah. We’re here for the bison photographs, aren’t we. I just wanted to set the scene for you first. Let’s get to the photographs, then!

We’ll start with Forever Yellowstone, which was one of the first photographs I made on the excursion. The road crested a hill, and looking out from the top gave me spectacular views of the winter-encrusted park. In a clearing below me, a few bison are doing bison kinds of things. A couple were moseying over to a new patch of ground; they were in no hurry, and just taking their time.

Then again, the snow was deep, so walking was not something you could do quickly, either. One was looking at me, wondering what I was all about. And two of them were butting heads. It didn’t appear to be anything serious, though, and although they were scuffling, they didn’t put significant effort into it, and soon separated to find grass buried under the snow. For me, though, all the elements came together, giving me, and now you, our first amazing view of Yellowstone National Park in the winter.

I adore these long, sweeping views and Forever Yellowstone gives a perfect sense of what winter looks like in the park.

Another photograph that gives a good sense of what the park looks like in winter is Bison’s Moment. Here, two bison, their faces covered in snow, stand before a hillside full of trees. The snow-covered trees recall the winter storm which was just here. The bison use their powerful neck muscles to sweep their faces from side to side, uncovering tasty grass. This results in plenty of snow on their faces, and for me, completes the photograph.

These are wonderful photographs, and I adore them. Yet, I was looking to create something else, too. A photograph of a single bison that evokes the majesty of Yellowstone. For that, I needed more bison, and so, I went onward, searching for them.

I initially thought it might be difficult to locate the bison, especially since there was only a single open road. I didn’t need to worry, though. The bison were, quite literally, everywhere. Plenty of opportunities provided themselves.

For example, this bison was climbing a hill not far behind me. She had come up from the plains, far below, and was going, well, I have no idea where. Presumably, she knew where she was going.

As she was lumbering along, I made this remarkable photograph. Every step she took kicked up some snow, and I think this photograph depicts that action perfectly. Even today, as I write this, I can feel her power and she moved through the park.

Still, though, there was a photograph that I was looking to make which I hadn’t yet. I kept searching, day after day. I would stop every time I saw a bison and wait. Furthermore, I’d look and see if the setting was perfect. It was, almost always, not. I’d continue to wait to see if the bison would move to a better setting. It’s during these times that the cold would set in. The bison had countless millennia to evolve, perfectly adapting to their environment. Heavy, insulating fur provides them the protection they need from the elements. I had my heavy winter parka which, while warm, wasn’t as warm as their fur. Perhaps in another few millennia I’ll personally evolve to have a built-in parka, but meanwhile, I shivered and waited.

And then I waited, shivered, and waited some more, day after day, Until I didn’t. I finally found the moment I had been looking for, and I made the most of it.

I wanted to showcase a single bison in winter. Not only that, but I knew what the photograph looked like in my mind’s eye, and so I evaluated every scene I saw with that in mind. Several times, it almost worked, and I had my hopes up. But, this time was different.

I saw a single bison off in the distance, walking slowly and deliberately, She was on a mission and had a clear goal in mind. I positioned myself to where I thought she might walk in front of me and waited, not quite patiently. She kept moving forward, and with every step, my hopes rose. Before I knew it, she was precisely where I wanted her to be, and Bison Trek was made.

For me, this one photograph is the essence of the bison in Yellowstone in the winter. A simple, yet powerful, photograph that showcases the stark whiteness that is winter, with the bison moving steadily, relentlessly, onward toward her goal. She wasn’t going to let snow stop her, not at all. She kept her steady pace, one step at a time.

As much as I love a soaring scenic view, like the ones I opened with, this photograph was the one I wanted, and the one I treasure the very most. Every time I look at it, I see the power of the bison, making her way through impossible conditions.

A Gratuitous Wolf

Of course, bison aren’t the only animals enduring winter in Yellowstone National Park. Plenty of other creatures brave the cold, too. For example, I encountered this wolf sitting and waiting patiently for its prey to emerge from the snow. How could I not take a moment and create a photograph?

The prey never broke the surface of the snow, and eventually the wolf went searching for something else. In any event, this post isn’t above wolves, so we’ll leave it as just that—a single lone wolf.

If you ever have a chance to experience Yellowstone in the winter, take the opportunity. It is incredible and not to be missed.

North Rim: Tantalizing Scenes Bestow An Exploration Of Solitude

March 13, 2024 by David Schneider

I joke, perhaps not entirely incorrectly, that the Grand Canyon is “just a big hole in the ground.” It’s big, that’s for sure, and it is, technically, a hole in the ground. But it’s so much more than that, of course. Arizona’s Grand Canyon defies any rational description, mostly because its size and scale are almost beyond comprehension. However. It is entirely possible to focus on small areas of it, and that’s precisely what we’ll do. Let’s dive into the Grand Canyon National Park’s North Rim and see where our adventure leads us.

In broad, general terms, we can divide the Grand Canyon into several areas: the South Rim, the East Rim, and the North Rim. The South Rim is readily accessible and is replete with all the infrastructure you can ask for. It’s a relatively short drive from Flagstaff and an even shorter drive from Williams. It has camping, plenty of hotels, miles upon miles of roads, a shuttle service, train service, restaurants, and more. Oh, and importantly, it has views of the canyon that are beyond extraordinary. I guess that part is important, too.

Because of this, and entirely unsurprisingly, it sees a staggering number of visitors. During the peak season in the summer months, it is, to say the least, crowded. There are traffic jams and long lines everywhere, and you need to weave your way through throngs of people to even catch a glimpse of the namesake attraction. Even in the winter months, you can find crowds, although, to be fair, it isn’t quite so bad. I’ve been there in the bone-chilling middle of winter and had to look for space to create the photograph I wanted. For me, someone who enjoys the solicitude and silence of the untamed wilderness, this is not an experience I relish, so I seldom visit the South Rim.

Luckily, the North Rim is the opposite experience in every single way.

Separated by only a couple of miles as the crow files, it is like entering an entirely different world. To begin with, access is only possible in the summer months. For starters, it is close to nowhere, so it is a long journey any way you look at it. That single fact means that the number of visitors is a mere fraction of those who are going to the South Rim. Why drive hundreds of miles when you can drive only a few? After all, the views are similar enough that most people will go for the easy way. In the winter, the heavy snow and low visitation mean that it is easier, and safer, to close this part of the National Park than to keep it open. So, it closes for the winter, leaving only a short window to enjoy it.

Moreover, and just as importantly, the infrastructure is not nearly developed, which suits me perfectly fine. There is a single hotel and a few campgrounds. There are only a couple of restaurants. You can’t hope on a train or shuttle, and there is only a single paved road in. Even cell phone service is spotty. It is a wholly different world.

And the views are even more spectacular here. But don’t tell anyone!

A note on access: I make it sound like there is only one way, period, into the North Rim of Grand Canyon National Park. This is partially correct: there is one paved way in. But there are several dirt roads that go into the North Rim, including some very remote areas. The Kaibab National Forest surrounds the National Park, and the border between the two is fluid in the more remote areas. Some forest roads end up in the park; others do not. Some are easy to navigate; even with a regular passenger car, most are not. And some are difficult roads, even for well-equipped 4x4s. Regardless, all the roads are impassible during the winter months, and sometimes from the fall through the spring. I've explored a great many of these out-of-way roads, and we'll revisit some stunning viewpoints in the future.

To be fair, the South Rim offers a fantastic experience, and I do enjoy being there. Occasionally, it is better to be able to reach a place quickly without having to go hundreds of miles out of your way. Yes, you can work around the crowds, and yes, you can create stunning photographs. I don’t want you to think I don’t like the South Rim. I do, and very much. But for today, we’re going to focus on the North Rim and the very different experience it offers.

I adore the vibe here. Everything feels more laid-back and serene. Sure, there are other visitors here, but there aren’t that many. There is also a stronger sense of camaraderie here, too. It’s like we all know that just a few miles to the south of us, there are hordes of people, all clamoring to see the view. Instead, those of us spending time at the North Rim can spread out, giving each of us the feeling that we are alone at the Grand Canyon. That sense of being by myself with the biggest hole on the planet really, and I mean really, puts it all in perspective. The Grand Canyon seems even bigger than it is. It goes on forever, stretching before the ends of the earth, and I feel as if I am viewing infinity by myself.

The feelings are that strong.

OK. I can hear you clearly. I’ve gone on long enough with the words. Let’s see some photographs. Who am I to disagree? Let’s get to those!

We’re going to two fantastic locations that are along a road that is open even less than the North Rim. Meaning, the opportunity window is even shorter. That, to me, makes these photographs even more special.

A view from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. There is a sweeping rock formation leading from the bottom of the image to the center-middle. There, a small rock formation juts straight up. In the distance are more canyon walls. The sun is just breaking the horizon in the left side of the image and has a flare.

The first place is Imperial Point at sunrise. It’s impressive, isn’t it? The sun peaks over the distant horizon and spreads its rays throughout the canyon. There’s a rock outcropping that catches rays, which forms the focal point of Imperial Sunrise. The gently curving walls accent the rock, and the entirety of the canyon stretches beyond it. To me, I can still feel the magic of the moment as the canyon comes to life with color and vibrancy, and the ethereal hues of color spring from the walls.

It is that daybreak moment that threatens to take your breath away and keep it. I especially adore sunrises and sunsets because of their fleeting nature of them. The sun is in the best position for only the briefest of all moments, so one needs to be quick to create the perfect photograph. Blink, and the opportunity is gone. And once the sun fully breaks the horizon and begins its daily trek into the heavens, the scene is gone. The canyon colors quickly fade into the harsh and unrelenting glare of the sun. You have to squint to make out even the largest details.

To create Imperial Sunrise, however, I needed to position myself perfectly. Although there is a handy viewpoint, I found it limiting, and I couldn’t get the exact feeling I wanted. So, I improvised, and found a much better position for myself. Getting there before the sun came up, meaning it was dark, was more challenging than I cared for, and a single slip meant disastrous consequences, but such is the price of the photograph. At least it was easy to get back to safety once the sun came up!

The second place we’re going to visit is Cape Royal and the stunning rock formation called Wotan’s Throne. I’ve become utterly transfixed by Wotan’s Throne recently. There’s something about how it thrusts up from the canyon floor and becomes a singular presence—the star of the show, as it were—that holds my attention. Somehow, it manages to become more interesting than the canyon it resides in, a feat that is difficult to accomplish.

A close-up view over the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and Wotan's Throne, a massive rock formation rises from the floor of the Grand Canyon. It is stair-stepped in nature. The colors are rich and vibrant in the late afternoon light. The sky is deep, deep red and very cloudy.

Wotan Sunset shows the formation’s detail during a particularly intriguing sunset. The day had been cloudy, with intermittent thunderstorms. I made this photograph at the height of monsoon season, so storms were expected and welcomed. As fate would have it, on this particular day, the sky began to clear to the west, allowing the sun to provide a light show all its own. I adore the deep reds that transition to purple here; a momentary, and lucky, break in the clouds let the sun through to light up the walls of Wotan’s Throne.

To me, this is the very best view anywhere on the North Rim.

And remember all the set-up I did regarding how few people are here? I was almost alone this evening. The feeling of solitude, while standing over magnificence, was overpowering as the sunset created this opportunity, just for me, and me alone. The world around me ceased to exist, save for Wotan’s Throne, a canyon stretching forever beyond, and a sunset of fire.

However, the most phenomenal photograph is yet to come.

I spent quite a while at Cape Royal and came back to it time and again to watch both sunrise and sunset. Despite the fiery beauty of Wotan Sunset, there is another sunset I like even better, and it is my favorite photograph from the North Rim: Royal Sunset.

This late summer day followed the typical monsoon pattern. Clear skies in the morning, followed by quickly growing rain and thunderstorms, then a slow clearing toward evening. The only question was: would the sky be clear enough, but not too much, to allow me to create the photograph I envisioned? The answer is a resounding yes.

A view over the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Wotan's Throne, a massive rock formation rises from the floor of the Grand Canyon. It is stair-stepped in nature, with each step having a difference hue. To the right of the image is another canyon wall. Above that is the setting sun giving a flair. The sky is very cloudy with deep reds and purples.

Royal Sunset features Wotan’s Throne, of course, but I opted for a wider panoramic perspective to help provide the feeling of scale. I was fortunate to experience another extraordinary sunset display. This sunset wasn’t quite as fiery red, but had plenty of purples and pinkish hues in it, which I find even more attractive. There was a clear break to the west, allowing me to create the sun flare. Light spills onto Wotan’s Throne and the canyon walls, lighting them with the last gentle brush from a turbulent day. The Snake River winds through the Grand Canyon more than a mile below, a thin thread of life-giving water in the harsh environment.

I perched, above it all, my toes a mere six inches from a mile-long drop into oblivion, held my breath, and created this consummate photograph. I wanted to provide the feeling of being over the edge. The only way to accomplish that was by being there on the edge; it is a nerve-wracking experience, and you need to remain constantly vigilant about where your feet are at all times. It is all too easy to be caught up in the moment, take a step forward, and, well, yeah.

Like all sunsets, the perfect moment was fleeting, and the shadows swept over the canyon walls, plunging everything into the darkness of night. That’s OK, though. I had completed my goal, and Royal Sunset remains one of my all-time favorite photographs.

It is never easy for me to depart the North Rim. In fact, the only way I do so is by knowing that I’ll be back there soon. Although it faded in my rearview mirror, it remains front and center in my thoughts, and I can’t wait to adventure there again.

Bring the North Rim Adventure Home

You can purchase Royal Sunset and always enjoy the fantastic experience of Grand Canyon National Park’s North Rim. Presented in an unusual aspect ratio, this stunning presentation looks utterly fantastic. I can make this in almost any size to accommodate your exact needs–contact me for more details. Royal Sunset looks especially awe-inspiring in larger sizes.

I can also create bespoke versions of Imperial Sunrise and Wotan’s Sunset for you, and like Royal Sunset, they truly begin to shine in larger sizes. With a custom-made piece, you will have a one-of-a-kind piece of stunning artwork made specifically for you.

Yellowstone Bears: Behind The Scenes With Amazing Photographs

February 20, 2024 by David Schneider

Yellowstone National Park is primarily renowned for its wildlife, above all else. Of course, Yellowstone is undeniably a picturesque place with abundant breathtaking beauty within its boundaries. It has intriguing landscapes, from Old Faithful to its prismatic springs to the gorgeous Yellowstone Lake and beyond. However, it is the wildlife that stands out. Wolves, bison, and elk are some of the animals the park is renowned for. But, the Yellowstone bears surpass everything else.

Let’s delve into the Yellowstone bears, what bears are up to, and everything that entails a bear encounter. We’ll go behind the scenes of some of my favorite bear photographs and how I managed to create them.

Two species of bears live in the park. Black bears, and the iconic grizzly, or brown, bear. They roam freely throughout the park, and you can encounter a bear wherever you are. The bears want nothing to do with humans; they forage and hunt as they wish, paying no attention to us. It’s not that humans are strangers to them, however. I suspect every bear there has seen humans all their lives and knows a good deal about us. They know we are likely to stand around, that we are usually not a threat to them, and that we, by and large, keep a little ways away from them.

From far away, and especially from the safety of your car, it’s easy to perceive bears as warm, fuzzy, cute, and cuddly. But make no mistake: these are some of the most formidable predators you can encounter anywhere.

Just because you are standing still looking at a bear does not mean you are entirely safe. Quite the opposite is true because you are not.

While driving through Yellowstone National Park, you often come across what is known as a bear jam. These occur when someone is driving through the park and spots a bear. The reaction is always the same: immediately hit the brakes, stop the car, and pull off to the side of the road to observe the bear.

And why not? Although bears are common in the park, only some people see one, and when you do, you want to stay and watch. I do it, too. Everyone does. The chance to observe a bear is not to be missed for anything.

But another car will inevitably come along, wonder why the first car stopped, and pull over to find out. Then, more people will stop and start getting out of their vehicles for a closer look. The initial sighting becomes a chain reaction, resulting in what is colloquially known as a bear jam. Even worse, although most people will pull off the narrow, two-lane road, some will not and instead park in the middle of the road. Now, the bear jam has turned into a complete standstill.

It’s an astonishing sight: hundreds of cars sprawled everywhere, bringing traffic in both directions to a complete standstill. But for those who have no interest in the bears, for whatever reason. I can’t fathom what that could be, but they are stuck.

Sooner or later, a ranger will arrive to manage the traffic. Yet, when people are not in their cars, there is no traffic to direct, is there?

Regardless, you could be stuck there for an hour. Probably even longer.

People will leave their cars and get as close as possible to the bear. Some are wary–as well they should be–but others are more daring, or more likely, more foolish, and see how close they can get. Some are photographers who want the best photograph possible. Others are just curious and want to get as close as possible. Some have small children in tow, dragging them near the wildlife without considering the consequences. Rangers do their best to control the situation, but the crush to get closer is always there.

And people need to recall that these bears are not domesticated. They are not in a zoo. There is no fence separating the bear from you. There’s no barrier at all. The closer you get to the bear, the higher the likelihood of something going wrong. Does it happen? Yes. Occasionally, it does, but the Rangers do an extraordinary job of keeping everyone as safe as possible.

As an aside, encounters with bison are more prevalent in Yellowstone because people mistakenly perceive them as slow and lumbering creatures that won’t do anything. Nothing could be further from the truth—absolutely nothing. Bison are incredibly swift and can instantly close the distance between them and you. Every year, a few unlucky tourists learn the lesson that taking a selfie with a bison is a hazardous idea. Bison can be cranky, and when surrounded by tourists, they are certainly not comfortable. As too many people have discovered, the bison can and will use their horns to address the situation.

As fast as bison are, bears are even faster. It’s something to keep in mind at all times. At least, I do. It’s never far from my mind how fast a bear can run; no matter how far away I am, one can reach me whenever it wants.

Eventually, the bear will wander away, visitors return to their cars, and the bear jam will dissipate. Once you have undergone a bear jam, you will never forget it.

Hmm. I went off on a tangent there but wanted to set the stage for you. When photographing bears, a great deal of preparation and luck is involved. No matter how prepared or where you expect to find a bear, it still depends on the bear cooperating and being in the desired site. Sometimes, it works out, but most of the time, it doesn’t.

Family Adventure is one of my all-time favorite bear photographs from Yellowstone or anywhere else. Surprisingly, it came from a bear jam. However, it also came from my understanding of the bear’s behavior, which allowed me to be in the right place at the right time. Let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

It had been a peaceful day in the park, and I was in the northern area. After checking in with the rangers, they mentioned the possibility of bears in that area, so I decided to spend the day there. Spending time in locations is essential; finding bears takes time and patience. And even then, there are no guarantees, only hopes. I confined myself to a section just a few miles long, moving slowly through it, stopping often, and keeping a careful eye out for motion.

Around mid-afternoon, I encountered the remnants of a bear jam. The bear had already departed, and the traffic was unhurriedly clearing out. However, I took note of the situation because now I knew where a bear had been. Knowing where a bear was gives rise to the possibility that a bear might return to the same place. I pulled over, parked, and began my wait. I remained in that spot for what felt like an eternity, but it was only about half an hour—no sign of the bear. Eventually, I returned to my car and continued exploring.

But something kept pulling me back, so I returned to the spot of the long-gone bear jam and parked once again. I found no sign of the previous bear. Yet, I remained determined and lingered. I didn’t know if the bear would return, but I hoped it would.

As the afternoon slipped away and early evening approached, I started to consider that the bear I had hoped for might not appear. I began thinking about my options. Daylight was fading, and there wouldn’t be many more opportunities that day. Should I stay, or should I go back to my original plan? Decisions, decisions. What to do.

Before I could decide my next move, fate intervened to help me out. The bear returned!

And it wasn’t just the bear, but also her two cubs! I couldn’t believe my luck. With my camera in hand, I stood there, breathless, observing the bears to see what they would do.

But before I could even raise my camera for the consummate shot, a bear jam formed around me, complete with rangers. I no longer had the choice of the best vantage point, and before I knew it, I was part of the swelling crowd. Good grief! The perfect opportunity was slipping away before I could capture the desired photograph.

I’m no expert on bears and their behavior, but I’ve learned a few things here and there. I can’t predict what any bear will do at any given moment, but I can make some educated guesses. This particular bear gave me clues about what she might do next. I decided to use these clues to set up the photograph I envisioned.

The first inkling was when she encouraged her cubs to stay in one spot while she walked away. Every person followed the bear, but I didn’t. No Mama Bear would leave her cubs for long. She would be back. Instead, I carefully selected my vantage point slightly away from the cubs in the opposite direction the bear and everyone else proceeded. Unfortunately, the cubs were in the tall grass, making it impossible to photograph them. But I patiently waited. Mama would return, and I would be ready. The crowd followed the bear, but she stayed in the shadows, leisurely foraging in the tall grass. In the distance, I could see people trying to photograph the bear, but none would turn out well because of the shadows. Besides, the cubs are the star attraction, so I continued surveilling them.

After some time, the bear turned around and hurriedly returned to her cubs. The throng couldn’t keep up with her, but I didn’t have to because I was alone, far away from everyone else. As Mama Bear approached her cubs, they obediently fell in line with her, easily keeping pace, and headed right into my field of view.

Family Adventure captures that meeting. The bears were bathed in the warm, late-afternoon sun, providing the perfect glow. One cub stayed close to its mother while the other trailed closely behind. I also treasure how one cub’s paw is mid-air as it trots.

The hoard caught up to me moments after capturing Family Adventure. Other photographers had a spectacular view of the bears’ rear-ends. But they didn’t think like I did, making this experience and photograph uniquely mine. Yes, you can create stunning images in a bear jam. Although, it isn’t easy.

To this day, it remains one of my favorite photographs. But it’s not my only favorite one! Not by a long shot.

Momma Bear is another bear photograph from Yellowstone that I am proud of. Its backstory may be less thrilling, but it demonstrates the significance of persistence and patience. Well, sometimes, being persistent pays off.

In this instance, I had the bears all to myself. I perched atop a prominent depression, waiting for a bear to emerge from the forest’s shadows and bask in the sunlight. I had spotted what I hoped was a bear in the undergrowth and decided to wait and see what would unfold. Sometimes, it’s hard to be sure what you see, and it is all too easy to let your imagination get the best of you. I was looking for bears, so this must be a bear, right? In reality, it could have been anything or even nothing at all. There is, however, one way to find out.

The undergrowth would appear to rustle now and then, but nothing emerged. I continued my vigil. Eventually, though, my hunch was rewarded as I spied a bear. Even better for me, it emerged from the woods into a sun-lit field.

This black bear was timid and cautious. The bear remained in the shaded forest, only venturing momentarily before quickly retreating into cover. It wasn’t frightened or startled by anything; it exercised caution. This behavior continued until the bear emerged into the meadow with a cub trailing her. Ah, I thought to myself. Now, it all makes sense.

The bear relaxed and thoroughly explored the meadow, as did her precious cub, which bounded playfully in different directions. The cub frolicked through the grass and reveled amongst the flowers. Both bears, now at ease, enjoyed the meadow and the sun’s warmth.

However, neither bear enjoyed the afternoon as much as I did. Momma Bear, this photograph is my favorite from the entire sequence. The cub, nestled among the flowers, seems to gaze directly at me. I remained as still as possible, barely breathing, doing everything I could to avoid attracting attention or disturbing anything. After all, as I mentioned earlier, it is crucial to be mindful of safety as these bears are not in a zoo. So, I must remain constantly aware of the situation and closely watch everything around me.

The mother bear caught a scent, although I never knew what it was, as she sniffed the air around her and focused on something in the distance. She wasn’t looking at me, which allowed me to relax momentarily, compose the scene, and create this photograph.

I am pleased with how it turned out. It encapsulates the essence of Yellowstone—lush green grass interspersed with vibrant flowers. Momma Bear and her cub are relishing a bright, sunny day. I am proud of myself for finding these bears and being able to capture this photograph.

I watched the bears revel in their meadow and thoroughly enjoyed the timeless setting. Eventually, it was time for them to retreat into the depths of the forest, disappearing forever from my view. However, that’s all right. My persistence and patience paid off handsomely—at least, this time it did.

There’s another photograph I would like to share. This one features an early Yellowstone bear and marks one of my initial visits to the park as an “adult.” It remains a truly memorable experience.

When I say “adult,” I mean that in the sense that my parents had taken me to Yellowstone as a child. Those visits and journeys to Glacier National Park are pivotal in shaping my perspective on the world today. Yellowstone, in particular, captured my heart as a young boy, captivating me with its breathtaking landscapes and exquisite wildlife. The boyhood sense of being wild and free has stayed with me countless years later. Even after many years, I vividly recall specific places and moments in Yellowstone. As an adult, I have even revisited some of these spots, and they have the same profound impact on me now as they did.

After my childhood visits, I didn’t return to the park until I was much older. This time, however, I arrived armed with a camera. Naturally, I had an intense desire to photograph a bear. I spent days exploring the park, searching for “my bear.” Occasionally, I found myself caught in several bear jams, always just barely missing the subject of everyone’s attention. I wouldn’t say I was growing desperate, but perhaps a sense of despondency was creeping in. Nonetheless, I persevered in my quest.

The moment captured in Silhouette Bear occurred towards the end of one of my final days in the park. Dusk was settling in, and I was returning to town. My headlights were on, and I assumed the day’s opportunities had ended. By sheer coincidence, I decided to pull over at a lookout, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything before darkness enveloped the landscape.

To my astonishment, a grizzly bear emerged behind my car, crossed the road, and ascended a hill. I was dumbfounded! There it was–an actual bear–right beside me, now moving away. What were the chances?

Persistence certainly pays off, but sometimes, luck also smiles upon us.

The wildlife in Yellowstone roams freely and undisturbed. Each animal leads its life within the protection of the park, and we are fortunate enough to be a part of it, even if only briefly, and witness the majesty of Yellowstone’s bears.

White Pocket: A journey into the Southwest’s most astonishing landscape

May 1, 2026January 10, 2024 by David Schneider

Like many unique places in the Southwest’s Colorado Plateau, White Pocket is an island of color and contrast in the middle of a virtually featureless desert. Its red sandstone rocks, replete with sweeping carved lines, create fantastic shapes and flow. In contrast, its brain rock creates geometrical patterns where there should be none. It rises over the desert, a beacon of shape, color, and impossible rock formations. But let’s start at the beginning of the adventure.

White Pocket is in Arizona’s Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, located in the northern part of the state, near the border of Utah. Access appears quite simple. All one has to do is drive a few miles down a desert road, park, and instantly be transported into another world. There are no permits to obtain, no rangers to contact, and no paperwork to deal with. All you have to do is drive down the road, park, and you’re there.

Except, of course, it is more complicated.

There are several roads that you need to take to get there. Most of the time, the dirt and lightly graveled main road, House Rock Valley Road, is passable to a passenger car. It is dirt and incredibly bumpy, but still, it’s passable enough. Unless it’s rained recently, that is. In this case, the mud will quickly trap the unwary in. Or, it’s rained further away, in which case the washes will be impassable, a fact which you won’t know until you’re in one.

But still, this main road is often passable. Usually. Or at least some of the time.

From there, you turn off onto a minor, less-traveled dirt and rock road, which is far less passable for a car. From this point onward, a high-clearance four-wheel drive is mandatory. The road becomes more or less passable, depending on the time of the year.

Finally, you turn onto the final access road, which is nothing but sand—deep, shifting sand. The road is miles and miles of sand, broken up only by sharp rocks. It’s an easy road, except, of course, for the sand. And the rocks. When you get clear of the sand, you have to deal with sharp, tire-puncturing rocks. Then, you plunge back into the sand again.

And that very sand will trap the unprepared. You will realize once it’s too late that you’re stuck, and rescue is neither quick nor inexpensive.

No one officially maintains the roads in this area. The Department of Transportation is not fixing potholes, clearing sidewalks, or re-striping the pavement because improved roads don’t exist. Instead, the local ranchers will take a road grader down the road occasionally and only when needed. They’re used to the conditions and have the vehicles to go on them. They’ll fix the roads only when necessary, which is rare. Beyond that, anyone else using the roads had best understand what they’re getting into.

Occasionally, the most unlikely car finds its way to White Pocket. Usually, this results from someone trying to go to the nearby feature called The Wave. The Wave, as the crow flies, if there were any crows, is just six miles away. But, visiting The Wave requires a permit. Alas, not everyone knows a permit is required. And, in any event, permits are challenging to obtain.

A ranger, or even a random visitor, will tell the unfortunate about White Pocket. A quick Google search reveals directions without the road details and the unprepared heads out in a small car. And so it happens that, amazingly, now and then, someone makes it out there in a passenger car, either due to incredible driving skill or, more often, sheer luck.

Seeing the parking area with lifted 4x4s such as Jeeps and a small passenger car is wild.

Honestly, don’t try it. Don’t even think about it. You will only make it if your luck and driving skills are beyond reproach. You won’t even come close, and your visit will consist of walking to cell phone range and waiting for someone to come get you out–if you can even arrange a rescue. Even the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) has this to say:

You are responsible for your safety. If you get lost while hiking, experience a non-life-threatening emergency, or if your vehicle becomes stuck or breaks down, it is your responsibility, not the responsibility of emergency services or BLM, to deal with the situation.
— Bureau of Land Management White Pocket Trailhead Brochure

That’s government-speak for you’re on your own, and hopefully, you have a high-clearance 4×4 and aren’t trying this in a passenger car.

To return to our story, let’s say White Pocket is at the end of a problematic road.

No, wait. Turns out there’s more to say about the roads.

Usually, when you’re on a back road in the Southwest, there are endless other opportunities along the road. You typically see a myriad of other exciting places to stop and explore. If you’re not careful, you never reach your destination because there are too many other places to explore. This road, however, is entirely different. There’s nothing else interesting to see, period. There are no side tracks to wander off onto. There are no other significant sights to see along the way. It is little more than a ranch road that ends at a fascinating place.

OK. Now we’re done with the road and arrived at White Pocket. Finally.

The view from White Pocket's parking lot.

From the parking area, White Pocket doesn’t look like much. Nothing indicates the extraordinary nature of what lies before you if you don’t know better. There’s a single large rock, but even that appears wholly unremarkable. It’s a remarkable example of deceiving appearances, and it makes you wonder what other wonders lie all around you, hidden behind the ordinary.

Luckily, we know the marvel that awaits us just a few hundred yards away.

White Pocket is a geological feature that is slowly sinking into the desert. Or, more accurately, the desert is slowly rising around it. Either way, one day, the sands will take it away. Seeing the currently buried features would be awesome, but at least we have this. It will take the sands millennia to encompass everything, so it will be around for a while.

White Pocket is relatively small, roughly a square mile in size. You can walk from end to end and side to side in no time. Or, more accurately, you could if it was smooth and flat, which it is anything but. There are swoops and swirls and protrusions everywhere that you have to walk around, so walking is a slow process. But the overall point remains: it is a relatively small area.

It happens, though, that everywhere, and quite literally, everywhere, within this area is incredibly interesting to look at. Every single step provides something new and different to see. I can think of no other area in the entirety of the Southwest that is as interesting as it is here. None. Absolutely none.

Here and there, you can find small pockets of vegetation. A few bushes struggle to survive against impossible odds, and whatever plants grow here struggle to do so. With a base of rock, there are little footholds for plants. A plant’s best bet is to find a purchase in the sand and attempt to put down strong enough roots to survive the winds. Mostly, though, the rock is barren.

You are free to wander wherever you like. There’s no barrier, other than common sense, to anywhere you wish to go. Some parts of the formation are incredibly steep and, in some places, nearly vertical. A slip here would be severe because no one will find you anytime soon if you’re hurt.

Despite the remote setting and difficult access, White Pocket sees a reasonable number of visitors. You’re unlikely to be completely alone while visiting. Paradoxically, despite its small size, you will unlikely be next to someone else. The formation gives you a strong sense of isolation; although you know others are around, you still feel alone. It is an odd juxtaposition.

And finally, we can talk about just what we see while we are there!

There are two main types of rock here: white sandstone and multi-hued sandstone. The white “brain” sandstone is white and light grey in color. It’s primarily flat, with deep cracks forming irregular polygon sections. One side of the pocket features this type of sandstone almost exclusively and is attractive.

A solitary pine tree is growing in white sandstone. The sandstone has multiple cracks, and the cracks form the sandstone into geometric shapes. The sky is dark and all clouds due to an approaching storm

Also stunning is a single pine tree growing here. Against all odds, this pine tree has survived and thrived. Pocket’s Tree showcases not only the white sandstone but also the tree. It is one of the most potent and exciting photographs I have made here. Despite the wild shapes and formations throughout the pocket, this one photograph speaks to me. It shows that nature can and will find a way despite odds against success.

In any event, Pocket’s Tree shows how the white sandstone looks far better than I can describe it.

Elsewhere, though, the formation begins to show its true colors, every single pun intended.

Everywhere else you look, you’ll see swirls, outcroppings, ridges, lines, waves, potholes, dips, and anything else you can imagine happening in rock. Eons of erosion have worked magic on the soft sandstone, chiseling and sculpting each area to perfection, making for a photographic playground.

A panorama of White Pocket on a stormy day

Pocket Panorama showcases a significant section of the area; some of each type of rock formation exists here. Also, it shows us that the area is anything but level and easy to move around. It might appear to be a short distance from here to there, but it is slow going, and sometimes, you need to skirt around the more fragile sections of the formation.

A view of White Pocket showing swirls and whorls of sandstone

However, when we go for more close-up and intimate views, White Pocket truly begins to shine. This photograph illustrates the prototypical sandstone swirls and swoops. The top layer of rock is white sandstone, but the colors come through underneath it. It appears as if something impossibly large took a bite out of the rock. It’s easy to let the imagination run wild, and each fanciful rock structure evokes its own unique emotion.

Colorful sandstone lines makes up this outcropping

As expected, some parts of the formation are more popular than others. Many call this outcrop “The Lollipop,” although I don’t see the resemblance, even when I stretch my imagination. Still, despite any name, deserving or not, this brightly-colored swirl of rock is one of the more photogenic parts of the formation.

And, in any event, this photograph exemplifies the sandstone layering that is everywhere. Underneath its white cap lie striking yellows, oranges, and reds, all in neat yet swirled lines. Many compare White Pocket to The Wave, and Pocket Swirl, perhaps better than any other photograph, perfectly illustrates that comparison.

A view showing the different colors of sandstone in White Pocket

Paradoxically, water is readily available here despite being in the desert, surrounded by endless miles of sand.

Rainwater collects in small pools through the pocket. Some pools are surprisingly deep, and some see full-time shade from the sun. This arrangement provides a mostly reliable water source, even in the hottest part of the summer. During the monsoon season, the pools are plentiful everywhere, but you will likely find one at any time of the year.

The water is not drinkable. Not by a long shot. Cattle drink from these pools, as does every other animal in the area. One can only imagine the contaminants and what drinking it would do to a human, filtered or not. Still, the pools make for a beautiful counterpoint to a barren desert.

An arial view of White Pocket showing the edge.

You might wonder what’s on the other side of the formation. The answer, simply enough, is nothing of interest. The rock falls steeply into the desert and instantly transitions from wondrous to ordinary. Once you leave the formation, you’re back in the desert. There are no other sections to head toward, no secondary formations, no anything of interest. I know. I spent hours at the edges looking for more, yet my search was utterly fruitless. Surely, I thought, there would be something else. I was optimistic about this. But there isn’t.

It’s hard to leave White Pocket. As you turn to go, you’ll find one more feature you didn’t previously see that you must now explore. There’s one more rock to examine, one more pool to find, one more formation that sparks the imagination. It is, after all, an explorer’s dream. The longer you stay here, the less you must deal with the sandy road back.

Eventually, it is time to go, and White Pocket recedes in the rearview mirror. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing it’s pulling on you, and you’ll be back to explore more of it, likely sooner rather than later.

One day in the distant future, the sands will reclaim White Pocket and bury this treasure. Nothing but a distant memory, if that, will remain, and it will fade into mythology and legend. Until then, though, this remains a wonder of our world, which I am blessed to document.

Bosque Birds

January 3, 2024 by David Schneider

The solitude of the winter day remained absolute at New Mexico’s Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. Usually, one would expect to see thousands of birds in the bosque, especially sandhill cranes and snow geese, foraging in the fields. But today, for whatever reason, the refuge remained empty.

It was a puzzle to me where the birds were, but it was also a puzzle I could not, and never would, answer.

Despite the emptiness, a few lonely birds had the fields in small yet isolated pockets. Never the less, it was nothing like it might been. The birds must have found better foraging somewhere else. I continued to search to see what birds I might see.

I could barely see a few small birds in the distance in one field. It was hard to make them out, but clearly, there were at least a few birds out there. Given the paucity so far, there couldn’t have been many birds, but that same scarcity meant this was all I had. It’s best to sit and wait and see what might happen. Of course, I didn’t expect much. Maybe a bird or two would take to the wing with any luck.

My patience didn’t have to wear too thin. Within a couple of moments, the birds took off. Much to my surprise, a few more previously invisible birds joined them. They were followed by a few more, then more and more and more.

Within seconds, the sky was full of invisible birds, all rising together!

Thousands of bosque birds take flight all at once

The bosque birds obscured my view entirely—not that I was complaining.

As quickly as the birds rose, they descended back into place, each disappearing as soon as it landed. The field became empty again, and the refuge was utterly still.

But now I knew the refuge was far more populated than I thought.

Autumn Reverie: Chasing Fall in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains

October 31, 2023 by David Schneider

It rained. In most circumstances, photographing during rain and snow is not ideal for me, but in this case, it was all part of the plan. Well, not the rain part, per se, but the opportunity immediately after the rain. After all, the best way to be in the consummate location after the rain is to be there during the rain. And so I waited, more or less patiently, for the rain to pass, and I could, hopefully, create Autumn Reverie. Time will tell, as it always does.

There’s a location where I’ve waited for several years to create an ideal photograph in Colorado’s San Juan mountains during the peak of fall color. I’ve been there many, many times, but the flawless conditions have always eluded me. However, with the current weather system, the mountains may have snow on their peaks. It might be raining at the elevations I was at, but it would be snowing on the mountains. Perfect. If, of course, it happens.

So far this year, the mountain tops were still barren. The fall color was beginning to peak, but the photograph wouldn’t be the same without the snow. The forecast models will prove correct, I am sure, and I will have my first snow-of-the-season photograph. It’s now raining, so all I can do is remain patient.

In the meantime, I chose to wait out the weather at the top of Colorado’s McClure pass. It’s near where I want to make Autumn Reverie and an ideal location on rainy days.

McClure Pass is one of my favorite locations. I adore the aspen groves at the top and along both sides of the pass. You’d think that aspens are all the same, but to me, they are not. They are distinct as snowflakes, with each grove having its unique personality. I come back year after year and find something new that excites me each time.

Resigned myself to being wet, and rather than try to stay dry, an impossible task, I embraced it. I meandered around the pass, waiting for the rain to stop and looking for, well, I’d know it when I found it.

Speaking of the rain, it was showing no signs of letting up. The low clouds enveloped the mountains and would not relinquish their hold. The aspens are ideal, but there’s no sun, light, or joy that I seek to create in a photograph. Today would not be the day to create a stunning photograph of the mountains.

*Rainy McClure shows the day would not cooperate.*

But, as fate would have it, it would be a day to create something sensational of a completely different sort.

I tramped through the woods, moving through the soggy forest, seeking the perfect scene. The light rain brought out the colors, making for unexpectedly vibrant scenes. The urge to push onward drove me forward, and I continued my quest.

Eventually, I turned, and there it was—the perfect Autumn Vignette. I smiled as I made this photograph, even though I was thoroughly wet.

The red bushes in the corner giving way to the aspens in the rest of the photograph, to me, represent autumn in all its glory. Sure, it isn’t a soaring mountain—that would come later, thanks to the rain—but it is intimate and peaceful. It showcases the changing of the seasons, too, which I adore. There’s plenty of green and just as many golden colors, too—a perfect mix of the two, all counter-pointed by that beautiful red bush.

I kept looking for more scenes, but in the end, Autumn Vignette was the best one. Eventually, daylight began to fade, and my time on the pass drew to a close. Hopefully, the weather system will cooperate, and the mountains of the Dallas Divide are now snow-covered.

The following day, much to my delight, that was precisely the case!

The mountains, now glistening white, stood tall against the fall colors. The clouds, still heavy from the previous day, continued to fill the sky, but there were plenty of gaps where patches of blue managed to find a way through. The conditions were perfect; I just needed to find the right location to create the photograph I was visualizing. That is far, far easier said than done, however.

On the surface, all I have to do is drive up, pull out the camera, take a quick picture, and come away with a marvelous photograph. After all, if the scene is perfect, the photograph will instantly come together. For me, though, that is not the case. I want, I need, every element to be perfect in its own right. The sun must be out and shining, making the fall colors bright and vibrant. I want the mountains covered with the perfect amount of snow, and I want clouds in the sky, neither too heavy nor too thin.

In short, I must wait for all elements to come together. On days like today, where the weather is very dynamic, the moment is fleeting. I have to be in place, waiting and ready. If the scene comes together, I will have little time.

Luckily, I know the area well, and there is a specific location I have in mind. I’ve been there many times, but it has never worked out. Today may be the day, and there is only one way to find out.

I headed down a county road full of hope. The road is relatively straightforward to drive, but it is challenging in spots. It’s rock and dirt, rough in most places, and can cause problems for the unwary. I need to pay attention, go slow, and be careful. In other words, it’s just my type of road. I reached where I wanted to be without incident and began my vigil.

The scene before me was almost perfect. There is a stand of aspen, glowing in glorious fall color. The surrounding hillsides are a stunning mix of gold and greens, contrasting and telling the story of the changing colors. Mount Sneffels presides over it all, now adorned with fresh, white snow. Not so much that I can’t see the features of the mountain, but enough to let us know winter is just around the corner.

I just needed to sky to be “just right.” Camera at the ready, I waited patiently.

The minutes slipped into hours, and still, I watched for precisely the right moment.

Finally, all the conditions came together to create Sneffels’s Valley.

Sneffel's Valley — I could not be more pleased with *Sneffels’s Valley*! Tap/click for larger.

With a perfect mix of clouds and sun, the photograph I had visualized was now a reality. I could not have been happier, and my years-long project is now complete.

My time in the San Juan mountains still needs to be completed, however, as there are many locations I adore and many more photographs to create. But now, Autumn Reverie is ready for you.

NGC 6188–the Dragons of Ara–is a cosmic masterpiece of the universe

August 22, 2023 by David Schneider

As long as I can remember, I’ve looked up at the night sky and wondered what, or maybe even who, was out there. The twinkling stars call to me, pulling me and sparking my wonder. These days, as I am creating Milky Way photographs, my star wanderlust is always rekindled. But now, I have access to telescopes, and the Ara Dragons come to life through one of them.

NGC 6188, better known as the Dragons of Ara, is a stunning emission nebula. Its clouds of molecular dust seem to form two dragons. Perhaps they are fighting, or maybe they are dancing. Either way, it pulls me in.

Ara Dragons is a narrowband image, meaning I photographed bands of light that our human eyes cannot see. I created the initial photos by using hydrogen, oxygen, and silicon filters, then merged those into colors we can see. The stunning result is, well, simply stunning. This process is the same technique that NASA uses for the Hubble and James Webb Space Telescope, and the final result is visually and scientifically accurate.

There is also another nebula in this photograph. NGC 6164 is photobombing the lower portion of the image. Known as the Dragon’s Egg Nebula, this is an O-type star approximately 40 times as massive as our sun. This star will become a supernova soon, perhaps in just a few million years, making this portion of the sky exceptionally interesting.

No matter where you look in the night sky, there is something fantastic to see. No matter how large or small your telescope is, there is always a new wonder to explore and see. Every time we make a discovery, it calls humanity outward to the stars, and hopefully, we never lose that desire.

Every time I look at Ara Dragons, I find something new. I hope you do, too!

More Ara Dragons

You can bring NGC 6188 home! You can also pick up this notebook, which is perfect for any type of notes and journaling. Never lose your sense of wonder with the night sky!

Bandon Views are ever changing and always spectacular

August 7, 2023 by David Schneider

There are a few places I can’t stay away from, and I keep going back to time and again. Oregon’s coastline, especially around Bandon, is one of those places. The picturesque sea stacks provide endless variation and endless fascination. These Bandon views showcase the beauty.

Every sunrise is unique. Some mornings, the sun rises quietly and slips into the sky without drama. However, other mornings are an entirely different story, and the sun provides quite the show.

And now and then, something unexpected happens. For example, the morning I photographed Violet Sentinels was one of those times. High, light clouds made for a promising start, but the promise remained unfulfilled as the dawn became brighter and brighter. While I hoped the cloud would light up in a dazzling display of color, they remained muted and understated. That’s OK. I just stood there and enjoyed the sunrise, and I would see it through until full daylight.

But, just before the sun crested the horizon, everything changed. At first, just a single cloud turned violet. Then, another, and another. Then all of them, all at once. The entire sky was an incredibly soft, yet striking, hue of purple. The ocean reflected the light, and the scene became a wonderful life.

The sea stacks, which rise sharply from the ocean, punctuate the scene, completing Violet Sentinels. This photograph is a perfect example of Bandon views.

Sunsets are just as spectacular, plus they have the advantage of including the setting sun in the photograph.

Bandon Calm illustrates this point perfectly.

Here, the sun is slipping quickly into the ocean, headed for the other side of the world. The incoming tide is doing its best to envelope the sea stacks. But, before the sun dipped below the waiting horizon, it lit the sea up with a beautiful shade of blue. Once again, the sea stacks are the scene’s star. The lone bird flying above completes the vignette.

Even a simple sunset is outstanding in Bandon.

The Bandon views are like no other, no matter what time of day. Whenever I come here, I find a different way to photograph them. Even the same sea stack looks entirely different each day. The endless variation fascinates me and calls me, and so I come back time and again, year after year.

I miss the Bandon coastline and am thinking about my next trip back. In the meantime, though, there are more spectacular views to explore and enjoy, and we’ll revisit Bandon soon.

Sego Canyon’s spectacular rock art reaches across time

July 3, 2023 by David Schneider

Sometime before 6000 B.C., Sego Canyon’s walls were empty and plain. And sometime after 100 B.C., the Archaic peoples completed the Sego Panels. The Barrier Canyon Style artwork remains with us today, but it has challenges to its very existence.

The Archaic people were nomadic by nature and eschewed permanent structures. As such, they left us with few clues to learn about them. Their rock art, however, is quite the exception. Sego Canyon contains several significant panels for us to ponder today.

Large, life-size anthropomorphic figures exemplify Barrier Canyon Style. They frequently have hollow or missing eyes and seldom contain legs. The overall appearance is haunting and mysterious, reminding me of a spiritual presence.

A rock art panels in Sego Canyon — This pictograph panel is spectacular. Click/tap for a larger view

Sadly, this panel is easy to reach and the subject of frequent vandalism. It is right off the interstate in Utah, and access is easy. People have etched their names, defaced the panel, shot at it, and desecrated it in many ways. Hopefully, it will withstand our efforts to deface the past, and we can study it to understand its message. But, with no protection, it will continue to degrade.

Other panels are nearby. For example, this petroglyph panel is outstanding but, alas, is also marred.

And this panel, to me, is particularly interesting because it is so low to the ground. It is located on private property, so is not approachable, but I was able to easily photograph it.

All we can do is enjoy Sego Canyon for what it is today. It is an important site, but one that will likely to continue to degrade.

Unveiling the Alien Marvel of Utah’s Upper Blue Hills

June 21, 2023 by David Schneider

In my never-ending pursuit of extraordinary vistas and thrilling adventures, hidden places call to me, their secrets tucked away in unexpected corners. The exhilarating thrill I feel when I reach one of these off-the-beaten-path destinations cannot be adequately described. But they can be photographed. Utah’s Upper Blue Hills area is one of these treasures.

It’s a deceptive treasure, too. While its star attraction, Factory Butte, is easily seen from miles around, it’s the area beyond that that is truly special. Here, we cross the threshold into an entirely alien world that undoubtedly can’t exist on our planet and one whose otherworldly landscapes are unique.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Let’s first explore Factory Butte. Factory Butte towers above the landscape; its commanding presence is undeniable and fabulous. It is a lofty sentinel beckoning to all who see it, demanding that you exit the highway to drive down a dirt road to see it up close. And, in the spring, sometimes it is surrounded by flowers, making a splendid scene.

Factory Butte with orange flowers in the foreground

The butte, as a whole, is picturesque and worthy of attention. I’ve photographed it before, but this scene, especially with a carpet of flowers, is one that I prefer. The faint whisp of clouds in the sky provides just enough contrast, and overall, I am pleased with how Factory’s Flowers came out.

Yet, it is not the butte soaring above the surrounding plain that draws my attention; it is the sides, exquisitely sculpted by the constant, relentless forces of erosion over countless eons. Deep channels are carved into its surface, revealing nature’s artistic touch. Water, wind, and time combine to work their magic. The result is truly outstanding.

A close up of the side of Factory Butte, showing all the contour and details of its sides

When we focus on just the sides, like in Factory’s Sides, the result is more abstract than I usually create. But I adore this photograph! The deep channels, the lines of the strata at the top, and even the occasional tumbling rock all combine to make a compelling scene. I can feel nature relentlessly carve the sides away, pebble by pebble. Sooner or later, it will have its way, but until that moment arrives, we have this incredible scene.

However, as I alluded to, Factory Butte, as dominating as it is, is merely a prelude to what lies beyond in the Upper Blue Hills.

A sketchy dirt road leads away from the butte to a world that does not exist on our planet. I drove through the seemingly ordinary desert, and to my eyes, nothing was out of the ordinary. That is until the road ends at an overlook. Here, everything changes.

Stepping to the edge of a three-hundred-foot drop, I looked out over the otherworldly landscape. Below me lay tortured and twisted ground in shades of browns and greys. Large erosional cracks run through the floor, some wide, some small. The fissures go every which way, with no sense or order. Low hills punctuate the floor, running as a ridge futilely attempting to encompass the cracks. No vegetation of any type is there. No bushes, plants, or living things grow here, which is odd even for the desert. When taken as a whole, the landscape appears completely alien, and now I know what it is like to walk on a different planet.

A close up of the valley floor, showing lines and ridges

“OK,” you say to yourself. David is being overly dramatic with his description. I’m not. I am not the only one who thinks this area doesn’t belong on Earth. The Mars Desert Research Station is here, too! Their website states: “The advantage of MDRS over most facilities for simulated space missions is that the campus is surrounded by a landscape that is an actual geologic Mars analog.” In other words, even space researchers believe this place is more like a distant planet!

For me, the challenge is translating all of the fantastical fairyland of the Blue Hills into an incredible photograph. As phenomenal as it is, merely pointing the camera at it isn’t enough. I need more. Much more. Dusk and dawn were likely the best time, so I made camp and settled in.

This area, managed by the BLM, has no formal campsites, but no one minded that I set up my tent at the precipice’s edge. Talk about a room with a view! Yes, one must be careful at night because a misstep is a long, long way down, but that is a small price for the vista before me. I settled in and began the wait until evening. I was confident that I would have what I needed then.

By and large, the weather mostly cooperated with me. The sun kept disappearing behind clouds, but not for long. I remained hopeful that the sunset would be good. I was right, in the end, but it wasn’t quite what I had hoped for, either.

The sunset came, and the desert floor took on golden hues as expected. Yet, deep shadows crept over it, too, and the view, despite some magnificent buttes, didn’t sing to my soul as it should have. I photographed it, of course, but I knew it wasn’t what I sought. Luckily tomorrow morning would bring sunrise and, with it, new opportunities.

I watched the sun slide below the horizon and enjoyed the peace and stillness of the overlook. It was eventually time to turn in and wait for the morning. Hopefully, the Blue Hills would not disappoint me.

I’ll fast-forward here. Morning came, and the scene was what I was looking for, but this morning wasn’t it—nothing for it except to wait another day. There were far worse places to stay, so I didn’t care. Sunset came again, and along with it, the same shadows. The night was restless for me because I was hoping against hope that the next dawn would bring what I needed.

I was up well before the sun, set up and waiting. Once again, the sun didn’t disappoint and crested the horizon. My time was here! Alas, the scene still didn’t come together, and I was resigned to waiting another day.

Yet, time has a way of making everything better. And time significantly improved the so-so scene into an otherworldly photograph.

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the light softened as the sun dipped behind a light cloud. And there, before me, now lay the scene I had hoped for!

A view over the edge of a mesa, showing a butte in the morning sun

The Belt of Venus, the pink band in the sky, was beginning to fade, but what remained provided the contrast in the sky I sought. The warm glow of the morning lit the valley floor perfectly, as well as the buttes. The entire scene came together to become Mesa Morning. The greys and browns glowing in the morning light accentuate the gold of the buttes, and we’re now on Mars. Or maybe the Moon. No, Mars. The Mars Desert Research Station says Mars, so we’ll abide by their experts.

Overall, I could not be happier with how Mesa Morning and the excursion into the Upper Blue Hills turned out!

Bring Mesa Morning Home!

Mesa Morning looks incredible on the web, but will look even better in your home. Don’t miss out in having the best of the southwest.