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.
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.
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.
“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!
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!
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