It’s April the 10th, real early in the morning and I’m geared up for presunrise photos at arguably my best panoramic vista. Yesterday I continued to lay here, so easy, and missed that window of opportunity, so get up, get a pot, fill it with water for coffee, get my photo gear together, make a trip to environmental self composting comfort station (pit toilet), and down the road. As I turn the corner I see motion to my right. When I started walking I could see a spot on the horizon that glowed more than the rest of it, so no time for distractions, unless they’re grand enough to become the morning’s subject. One morning here I was treated to several big horn sheep, a sure attention getter and worth giving up sunrise to enjoy. I glance towards the motion - it’s a grey fox scurrying off in the opposite direction. Not this morning; where is that point and shoot camera? It could’ve been a snap shot, but I’m on a mission and I’m loaded down with two cameras, tripod, gadget bag, and 22 oz. mug of coffee to carry. I have a mile to walk and the sunrise is only about 30 minutes away. The light will be shadowless, soft and subtle - great for photos, especially long (more than 1 second) exposures. That produces gorgeous saturated colors ... Once the sun appears, unless there’s clouds to mask it ... It’s over for photos. Now, there’s no telling what nature will display, but I’ll be there.
I navigated the treacherous 60-plus miles of nearly impassable dirt primitive road, with sand pits, pot holes, and up and down sharp rock breaks. If it rains don’t even try it!!! The mud or sand pit quagmire will get you! High clearance and/or extreme caution are a necessity and four wheel drive comes in handy. There’s two roads that merge from the main road Rt. 389 to here. The one closest to Fredonia has less sand pits than the one from Colorado City, plus there’s a gas station right before you come to it. Gas up, the snail’s pace speed will eat gas, and there’s no services here. Allow at least 3-4 hours of driving time. Enjoy the scenery and let your eyes search the distance for rare critters, but don’t hit the big rocks in the road. This is no place for a flat tire. There’s herds of pronghorn antelopes that’ll run faster through the grass lands than you can drive, and glorious butte (or are they mesa or bluffs- what’s the difference anyhow?) laden scenery. The route goes over mountains, but don’t turn towards Mt. Trumbull; the road gets worse and doesn’t go to where I want it to. This is a national park, but surrounded by Bureau of Land & Mines area, where to camp you’ll need to know how to use a shovel to bury any waste. I passed signs for Kanab Creek Overlook (maybe a place for next year).
I just called it real early, because this is Arizona with no day light savings time; other neighboring states observe it, the time changes from Mountain to Pacific Time close by; the radio stations give the time, but never say where they are at, and there’s no cell phone service to tell me the time either, but who cares. Just keep stepping, but watch where you put your feet (this is rattle snake country!) and watch the eastern horizon.
Tuweep, where I am, is on the north side of the Grand Canyon. There are no crowds, tour buses, or guides with megaphone voices like on the south rim. I make it to the splendid overlook of Toroweap. (
www.nps.gov/grca/) No sun yet, no harsh light, just a panorama of soft green, browns, and grays in the predawn light with the Colorado River flowing at the bottom of the massive 3,000-foot plus high cliffs of the Grand Canyon through the 20-foot waves of Lava Falls. This is it, no spectacle in my travels is better because it goes on and on whichever direction I turn my head and point my eyes. I’ve visited here six times and to assure nature gets the opportunity to put on a stunning sunrise or sunset show, I need to be here at least a week. This year the weather forecast of rain will shorten my visit. I must be on the exit side of those quagmires. I didn’t get nature’s best, but as I waited for the color of sunset tonight, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that a gorgeous pink sky had developed in the east. I clambered up from my perch, over the canyon rim and across the rocky landscape, to an easterly vista, but the color faded. Here there’s another pinnacle time of photography not availed in most places. It’s at the time the sun is directly above the depth of the canyon. Then the light brightens the bottom and there are few shadows. Wow, What a place!!!!!!
