A[nother] Trip to Lower Antelope Canyon

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I finally make time to do a photo walk in the sandstone canyon.

For the past month and a half, I have been living less than two miles from Antelope Canyon in Page, AZ.

Lower Antelope CanyonIf you don’t know what Antelope Canyon is, you’ve probably never read Arizona Highways or seen any of the “typical” Arizona photos out there on the Web. As Wikipedia states, “Antelope Canyon is the most-visited and most-photographed slot canyon in the American Southwest.” Its reddish sandstone walls glow with direct and reflected light at midday, emphasizing the texture of the swirling patterns on the walls.

There are actually two Antelope Canyons: Upper and Lower. Most people go to the Upper canyon, which is upstream (south) of the other area. Upper Antelope Canyon is a short 1/4 mile stretch of slot canyon cut into a huge sandstone rock in the middle of Antelope Wash. It features cool, swirling sandstone walls and hard-packed, almost level sandy floor. I’ve written about it at least twice in this blog: “Antelope Canyon” (September 2006) and “Four Tips for Great Antelope Canyon Photos” (April 2007).

Entrance to Lower Antelope CanyonLower Antelope Canyon is downstream from upper. It has far fewer visitors. I think it’s more spectacular — with corkscrew-like carvings and at least two arches — but I also think it’s harder to photograph. It’s also far more difficult to traverse, requiring climbing up and down iron stairs erected at various places inside the canyon, clambering over rocks, and squeezing through narrow passages. For this reason, the Navajo caretakers don’t really limit your time in Lower Antelope Canyon. You slip through a crack in the ground — and I do mean that literally (see photo left) — and are on your own until you emerge from where you descended or from the long, steep staircase (shown later) that climbs out before the canyon becomes impossible to pass.

Lower Antelope CanyonI went to Lower Antelope Canyon with my next door neighbor and fellow pilot, Robert, today. It had been a whole year since my only other visit. After paying the $26/person entrance fee, I told the woman in the booth that I’d been there before. She told us to go on down, without waiting for a guide.

I had a few things with me that I didn’t have on my last visit. First and foremost was a tripod. I’d left my tripod behind on my last visit, thinking the light would be bright enough not to need it. Wrong. This time, I had a sturdy tripod I’d borrowed from Mike just for this trip. The only problem was, the tripod was old, its legs could not be spread independently, and the tripod was stiff from age or disuse. I also had two lenses I didn’t own last year: my 10.5 mm fisheye lens and my new 16-70 mm zoom lens. I packed light, bringing just the tripod and the camera with those two lenses. Rather than use my camera bag, I put the lens that wasn’ ton the camera in a fanny pack, along with a bottle of water and a lens brush.

Lower Antelope CanyonWe arrived at about 11:20 AM and the place was unusually crowded. But Lower Antelope Canyon is large and everyone spread out. Most folks only made the walk one way, taking the stairs up and hiking back on the surface. We would have done the same, but we ran out of time. We were in there until 2:30 PM; Robert had to be at work by 4 PM.

Robert in Lower Antelope CanyonWe made our way through the canyon slowly, stopping to take photos along the way. Positioning the tripods was extremely difficult sometimes, as the canyon floor was often only wide enough for a single foot to stand in it. My tripod really hindered me, but I made it work. I think Robert (shown here) had an easier time with his. We were two of dozens of photographers, most of which were very polite and stayed clear of other photographer’s frames. This is the biggest challenge at Upper Antelope Canyon. I find it stressful up there, as I told a trio of photographers from Utah. Lower Antelope Canyon is much more relaxing.

Lower Antelope Canyon StairsNear the end of the canyon walk, I was worn out. It wasn’t the hike as much as the struggle to find the right shots and get the tripod into position. I felt as if I’d had enough. So when we reached the last chamber before the canyon got very narrow (and muddy) and I laid eyes on those stairs, I realized it would definitely be better to take the easier route back. I took this shot with my fisheye lens, which was the only way to get the entire staircase in the shot. If you look closely, you can see Robert’s head poking out near the top.

Lower Antelope CanyonI took about 95 photos while in the canyon. Some of the better ones — along with some to illustrate the story — are here. There’s a better collection in my Photo Gallery’s new Arizona section. I’ll probably add others — as well as shots I’ve taken around Lake Powell lately — soon.

If you’re ever in or near Page, AZ, I highly recommend taking the time to visit one of the Antelope Canyons. Even if you don’t take a single photo, a walk through the canyon is something you’ll remember for a lifetime.

Paint Quarter Horse for Sale

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We make it official.

Today, I created a flyer to sell my horse, Cherokee. Here’s the text and photo:

Paint Quarter Horse for Sale

Cherokee

Cherokee is an approximately 18-year-old registered Paint Quarter Horse gelding. (We don’t have his papers, but can get them; his registered name is “Up Steps a Devil.”)

He is well-behaved and extremely friendly. He’s a good trail horse with plenty of experience riding alone and with large groups. If you ride with the Wickenburg Horsemen’s Association, you may have seen him on some of the rides or in the Gold Rush Days Parade. He’s been trained for a rider to open gates while on horseback. He loads well, has no known health problems, and is really beautiful.

We’re selling Cherokee because we’ve recently had to put down his stall mate, Jake, who was about 30 years old and had developed age-related health problems. We’ve made the decision to do more traveling and have decided to get out of horse ownership for a while.

January 2009 Update: Cherokee has been sold. His new owners live in Wickenburg, so if you ride here in town, you may see him out on the trail once in a while. We’ll miss him terribly, but it’s better for him to get out and ride and for us to shed excess responsibilities at this time.

A Few Days at Home

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A vacation…sort of.

On Sunday evening, I left my seasonal workplace in Page, AZ to spend a few days at home in Wickenburg.

I’d been in Page since August 10, when I flew my helicopter to Page airport from Seattle. Since then, I’ve been working with American Aviation to offer custom photo flights and day trips in the Lake Powell and Monument Valley areas. I squeezed in flights between chapters of a book I was contracted to write. Between flying, writing, and dealing with a bad back (now healed), I kept very busy. I was ready for a break.

I’d planned to go home on Monday, mostly because we’d had one of our horses put down on Thursday and I wanted to be there for my “family.” But I got a call on Saturday to do a helicopter flight in Wickenburg and the only time available was on Sunday afternoon. So I came back early and made a few bucks on a photo flight for some really nice guys.

I also had work to do at home. I needed to put together some promotional materials for flying at Page, using files on the iMac in my office. But the Internet was down for two days, making it difficult to get the information I needed to get the work done.

I soon found myself stressed out by a number of things:

  • My sole remaining horse, alone for more than a few hours for the first time in his life, spent a lot of time pacing his corral, calling out to a friend who would never come. It was heartbreaking. I had to keep the windows closed at night so his whinnies wouldn’t keep me up.
  • My inability to complete the work I needed to do because of the Internet outage. This was aggravated by the knowledge that I had more reliable Internet in a campground in Page than I had in my house in Wickenburg.
  • My growing dissatisfaction with life in Wickenburg. I’d spent the summer on the road and had seen a lot of places I’d rather be. I almost resented having to come home.
  • The seemingly endless list of chores I had at home. Life was much simpler in a 21-foot travel trailer in a campground.

When my Internet service came back online and Mike returned from his trip to New York on Tuesday evening, I started mellowing out. I was able to get work done and had someone to share the chores. I pushed back the date of my return to Page. And we went down to Scottsdale for a wine tasting with friends.

My friend, Tom, owns a house in Wickenburg. But these days he spends only one or two nights a week there. He owns a condo in the Deer Valley area of Phoenix, where his business is based. He has friends and a real social life down in Scottsdale. On Wednesday evening, I met Mike at the Kierland Resort for drinks and ceviche at Deseo. Then we drove over to Bacchus for their weekly wine tasting, where Tom was a regular. We tasted some extremely mediocre wines, then shared a few bottles of good wine with Tom’s friends. Then off to Ra to sober up with sushi and tea before the long drive back to Wickenburg.

Mike is thinking of buying a condo in the Biltmore area of Phoenix as an escape to civilization for us. He drives 80 miles each way from Wickenburg to Phoenix for work and is tired of it. (Unfortunately, there are very few good paying jobs in Wickenburg.) He knows about my growing dissatisfaction with Wickenburg and my need for a social life that’s impossible to attain in a half-dead retirement town. Wednesday evening’s activities confirmed our need to get out of town a lot more often.

I flew back to Page on Friday morning. While in Wickenburg, my mechanic, Ed, had installed a new battery and changed the oil in the helicopter. The starter had plenty of juice when I fired the helicopter up at 7:30 AM. I had a great flight back to Page, where I got a warm welcome from my friends.

And last night, I went to my very first high school football game. Mohave beat Page, 24 to 7.

Some People DO Get What They Deserve

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I’d like to thank the robber.

One of my Twitter friends (@jeffcarlson, I believe), pointed me (and others, of course) to this article on the TwinCities.com Web site: “GOP delegate’s hotel tryst goes bad when he wakes up with $120,000 missing.” If this isn’t an instance of poetic justice, I don’t know what is.

Turns out the 29-year-old lawyer from Denver went to the GOP convention alone. While there, he was interviewed for LinkTV.org where he made some pretty amazing statements. According to the article:

Schwartz was candid about how he envisioned change under a McCain presidency.

“Less taxes and more war,” he said, smiling. He said the U.S. should “bomb the hell” out of Iran because the country threatens Israel.

Asked by the interviewer how America would pay for a military confrontation with Iran, he said the U.S. should take the country’s resources.

“We should plant a flag. Take the oil, take the money,” he said. “We deserve reimbursement.”

Think I’m kidding? See the Interview for yourself:

The guy even looks like a jerk.

The Twin Cities article goes on to report: “A few hours after the interview, an unknown woman helped herself to Schwartz’s resources.” Specifically, $120,000 worth of cash, jewelry, and other valuables. They were all taken by the woman he brought back to his hotel room. The last thing he remembers was her making him a drink and telling him to get undressed.

So here we have a 29-year-old lawyer who is a typical, small-minded, U-S-A! chanting Republican delegate, publicly voicing some extremely right-wing imperialistic ideas for a TV camera. For some reason, he’s loaded up with $120,000 worth of goodies at the convention — maybe he thought he could hand them over in person to one of his idols. Then he gets seriously taken by a call girl who probably slipped him a mickey before she had to service him.

Poetic justice? I think so.

A Quick Story about Gratuities

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Read it. It’s funny.

I forgot to mention this in my “Gratuities ARE Appreciated” post, so I’ll share it now.

In the summer of 2004, I was a pilot at the Grand Canyon, working for the big helicopter tour operator there. They’d often have 10 or 11 helicopters running at once, so when a tour bus pulled up, we could take up to 66 passengers at a time. Needless to say, just about all the tour bus operators used us. Very few of our passengers spoke English.

One day, they loaded us up with a Japanese tour group. I had a petite older Japanese woman next to me. She was probably in her 60s. She was very nervous. And she didn’t speak a word of English.

When we first took off, she grasped the bottom of her seat, like most nervous passengers do. And she continued to look nervous for the first part of the flight. But then we slipped over the South Rim and began our flight across the Canyon. Her eyes seemed to bug out of her head as she leaned forward to suck in the view.

After a while, I realized that she wasn’t nervous anymore.

When we landed and I cut the throttle to idle, she leaned across and hugged me — no small task, given I was wearing a shoulder harness, pair of headsets, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. Then she began rummaging around in her purse. She produced a plastic card and handed it to me with a great deal of excited blabbering in Japanese. She bowed repeatedly before the loader came to help her out.

I looked down at the card, completely puzzled. It had a picture of Mt. Fuji on it and was covered with colored symbols and writing in Japanese. There was a magnetic strip on one side. I put it in my shirt pocket.

During my lunch break, I hunted down Hajame, our Japanese pilot. I told him about the woman and then handed him the card. “What is this?” I asked.

He studied it for a moment, then broke out laughing. Apparently, it was some kind of bus pass for a mass transit system in Japan.

To this day, I prize that “tip.” Sure — it’s completely worthless to me. But it was the thought that counted. She, in effect, gave me a souvenir of the flight. And 4+ years later, I still remember her and the flight that won me such a prize.