My husband, Mike, joined me in Page for the weekend. I did some work, but we also had some fun. Yesterday, we rented a boat and went out to Rainbow Bridge, the world’s largest natural stone arch. Rainbow Bridge is only accessible by boat from the lake or by a grueling hike from a trailhead near Navajo Mountain. Even by boat, there’s currently a 2/3 mile hike from the dock to the Bridge. But that doesn’t stop hundreds of people — mostly on the three daily tour boats — from visiting.
I have a lot more to say about this day trip, but I can’t stop to write about it now. I’m terribly behind on a book project — partially because I took yesterday off — and I need to get the darn book done already.
But I leave you with this photo of Mike, apparently holding up the bridge. We took this photo in response to Mike’s friend, Bob, who recently sent a photo of himself holding up the Unisphere, a New York City landmark.
One of the things that’s so frustrating to me as a pilot and photographer is that I can’t do both activities at the same time. You see, when I fly, my hands are full. I can’t let go of the cyclic to frame a shot — the helicopter would begin aerobatic maneuvers that would make me sick (or worse). So although I get to see some pretty amazing things from the air, I rarely get a chance to take a decent picture of any of it.
So I was tickled pink today when I went through my Google Alerts and found that photographer Ann Torrence had mentioned me in two recent blog posts. In each post, she shared a photo she’d taken from the left seat of my helicopter when we flew from Page to Marble Canyon and back on August 16.
The first post shows a great — and very unusual — shot of Horseshoe Bend. Everyone takes the same picture of this place, primarily because they all take it from the same viewpoint, on the east side of the cliff. But when you’re in a helicopter, above the terrain, you can shoot from anywhere. And as I circled this outrageous bend in the Colorado River, Ann shot from the northwest. As she said, it’s the first time she’d seen it from that angle. And it’s the first time I’ve seen a picture taken from there.
The second post shows the two Navajo Bridges — historic and newer — over Marble Canyon. Marble Canyon is the extreme starting point of the Grand Canyon. It’s a narrow, deep gorge cut through relatively flat rock plateau. As I used to tell my Grand Canyon passengers, it was named by John Wesley Powell, one of the original explorers of the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, who thought the walls of the canyon were made of marble. (They’re not.) From the air, it looks like a crack. Ann’s shot of the bridges is pretty good, although I did have a passenger take a nice shot for me, years ago, from the other side of the bridge looking downstream. Trouble is, the bridge is in restricted airspace, so you can’t just fly around it. You can only fly past on landing or takeoff from Marble Canyon’s little airport.
I should point out here that there are other images taken from my helicopter in the Page, AZ area on the Web. Photographer Mike Reyfman has a number of galleries of LakePowell and Monument Valley. And at least one photo taken from my aircraft in this area has wound up in a Cessna magazine ad.
Anyway, I’m up in Page, AZ, offering photo flights in the area through American Aviation. I’ll be here through the end of September and possibly into October. If you’re in the area and want to see a different perspective for your photos, give American a call at 928/608-1060. They’ll set you up for a photo flight you’ll never forget. And maybe — just maybe — you’ll get some photos as good as Ann’s and Mike’s.
Yesterday, after finishing Chapter 7 of the book I’m working on, I took the afternoon off. I really needed a break and yesterday seemed like a good time to take it.
I drove out to Romana Mesa. These days, as some of you know, I’m living in Page, AZ, where American Aviation is booking photo flights and day trips for my helicopter. I only want 5 to 10 hours of flight time a week, and that’s just what they’re giving me. It gives me plenty of time to work on my book and, when I need a break, I can take it.
Romana Mesa is on the north side of Lake Powell, across the lake from Tower Butte. It’s a high mesa, about 1,000 feet of the surface of the lake. The tour planes flight right over it and use it as a reporting point. On a recent helicopter flight, I saw a truck out there. I figured if someone else got a truck out there, I could, too.
So I did some research and, with the help of Google Maps, discovered which back roads would get me there. I had no idea of the condition of the roads, but I had Mike’s 4WD Chevy pickup which I figured would be able to handle most conditions. I used Garmin’s MapSource software to load area topo maps into my Garmin GPSMap60c — I’d had Washington maps in there — and packed up some food and clothes (in case I got stuck), my camera and tripod, and a cooler full of ice and drinks. At 3 PM, I headed out.
This segment of the Lake Powell Map shows my route. The purple line traces my route in and out.
I drove out on highway 89 to Big Water and turned right onto the only road that ventured north east along the north side of the lake. The road soon turned to dirt. I drove through Wahweap Creek, which wasn’t much more than a puddle. Further on, I was surprised to find a sign that pointed me toward Utah Route 12, which I knew ran east/west far north of the lake. Evidently, there was back road access to it.
The road wasn’t in bad shape, but it obviously hadn’t been graded since the last rainstorm. The mud had been deeply grooved by trucks and other vehicles that had been out there when it was still wet. That mud was now dry and rock hard. The going was easy enough, but it jarred my bad back in more than a few places. I wished I had my Jeep, which offers a softer ride on roads like that.
There were signs at each intersection. I followed the one to the Grand Bench, then turned right on route 264. By this time, I’d climbed to mesa-top level. The road struck out over flat terrain studded with small bushes and grass. Very easy going, despite the fact that the road had narrowed down to a single-lane cut through the sand and rock.
About four miles down the road, I got to my first viewpoint. I was rather surprised to find a white Jeep Cherokee (or some other SUV; I really wasn’t paying attention) out there. I chatted with the woman while her husband walked to the edge of the cliff to snap photos. They were from Boston. I got the impression that she was nervous about being so far away from roads and people. She stuck with her vehicle, then followed me as I went to the cliff edge to take some photos. I gave her some ideas for photographing Lower Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend. They moved on down the road while I took a break for some cold water.
The road got weird. It was all rock in one place with deep cracks and fissures. The road was invisible — no tire tracks in sight. But beyond that area I could see the road continuing on toward the end of the mesa. The people from Boston gave up and turned around. I kept going. I found a path over the rocks and joined up with the road again. A while later, I had to repeat the same process in another spot. The road forked off in a few places, but I stuck with the main road. It ended a few minutes later, less than a mile from where the Bostonians had turned around. I parked and got out.
I was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at Gunsight Butte. There were houseboats down below me and a few powerboats cutting wake into the otherwise calm water. I walked around a bit and took pictures. Then I settled down to wait for the light to change.
It had taken me close to two hours to get out to the edge of the mesa — a distance of about 40 road miles and less than 10 air miles. I wanted to take photos in the late afternoon light. There was a storm out to the west and the sun would soon be sinking behind it. There was another storm to the east, which appeared to be moving toward me. I couldn’t stay until sunset because, if I did, I’d be driving at least 25 miles of unimproved, unmarked dirt road in the dark. My night vision is pretty crappy and I knew that would not be a good idea. So I decided to wait no longer than until 6 PM.
While I waited, I took photos and drank cold beverages and ate cherries. I also took this video:
I left the area at 6:10 PM. It took 30 minutes just to drive the 5 miles to the turnoff for the mesa. The sun set while I was about 2/3 back. My headlights came on when I reached pavement. It was about 7:40 PM when I rolled back into the campground.
Would I do it again? Definitely. Would I recommend it to others? Yes. But on a cooler day. (It was 95°F out there.) Bring plenty of water. An overnight camping trip out there would be incredible, too.
I don’t have much time to write this — and that’s the reason I haven’t been writing more regularly. I like to compose at least 5 blog posts a week, yet this is only my third in just over a week. The last post — a video — doesn’t really count, since I didn’t write anything.
So why the neglect? As I mentioned above: time.
Every once in a while, life throws a perfect storm at us. You know what I mean — it’s a period of time when everything seems to go crazy at once.
In my case, it was the following, which have all occurred since July 29:
Completion of the annual revision of one of my books (ongoing throughout this period).
Reposition my helicopter from Quincy, WA to Seattle, WA.
Reposition my camper from Quincy, WA to Page, AZ.
Brief 3-day catchup period at home in Wickenburg, AZ.
Distribute the animals among multiple boarding facilities.
Trip to Seattle, WA.
Reposition helicopter from Seattle, WA to Page, AZ.
Set up housekeeping in my camper in Page, AZ.
Entertain an overnight guest in a very tiny camper.
Deal with FAA, airport manager, and local tour operators in Page regarding tour, photo flight, and charter work in Page, AZ (ongoing).
Provide moral support for my sister, who has been laid off from her banking job.
Three photo flights from Page to Monument Valley.
Start of new book with August deadline.
Three trips to medical facilities in an attempt to diagnose some severe back pain.
It’s this last thing that’s really gummed up the works. I did something to my back while I was home and the pain became unbearable after the commercial flight to Seattle the next day. I was in an urgent care clinic there where I got prescriptions for drugs I couldn’t take because I had to fly. The pain has varied from annoying but bearable to absolutely crippling every day since then, with one day so bad I was in the hospital emergency room. It hurt to sit and since I need to sit to write, I couldn’t work on the new book — let alone write blog entries.
Miraz hit the nail on the head in her Twitter comment to me, when she said, “Pain is so time consuming and draining.” Wow. I’d never really thought of it like that — probably because I’ve never been in such severe pain for so long.
So now I’m behind in just about everything, racing against the clock to finish a book that’s due tomorrow. (It ain’t gonna happen.) The pain is under control — yesterday was the first day that it was tolerable throughout the day — and physical therapy starts on Monday.
Please bear with me. I do have lots to write about. When I get this book off my plate and catch up on my FAA stuff, I’ll be back with some interesting (I hope) new content here.
Since I haven’t had time to post to my blog, I thought I’d upload a new video clip. In this 4+ minute clip, I’m taking off in the helicopter from Marble Canyon Airport and climbing out toward Page, AZ. You’ll see my takeoff “roll,” the cracked pavement of the taxiway, and the narrow runway at Marble Canyon Airport, before I bank sharply to the right past the Vermillion Cliffs, near historic Navajo Bridge, over Lees Ferry, and up the canyon to Page. No real audio on this one; just some muted helicopter sounds. Comments are welcome — and appreciated!
I have a lot more to say about this day trip, but I can’t stop to write about it now. I’m terribly behind on a book project — partially because I took yesterday off — and I need to get the darn book done already.
Bob, who recently sent a photo of himself holding up the Unisphere, a New York City landmark.
I was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at Gunsight Butte. There were houseboats down below me and a few powerboats cutting wake into the otherwise calm water. I walked around a bit and took pictures. Then I settled down to wait for the light to change.