Grounded at the Grand Canyon

Weather. Again.

This week, I’m on a Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure with two very nice folks from California. Although this helicopter excursion normally runs 6 days and 5 nights, these folks expanded the trip to add 2 more days at Lake Powell.

The weather was an issue from Day 1, when we departed Phoenix Deer Valley Airport and headed north to Sedona. Although the forecast didn’t seem out of the ordinary — mild temperatures, light winds, clear skies — an odd white haze had settled over the Phoenix area, making visibility poor. It was like flying in Los Angeles. Ick.

Oak Creek VillageSo instead of giving my guests their Phoenix Tour and heading up the Verde River on Day 1, we took a shorter route to Sedona that overflew Lake Pleasant and stayed within several miles of the I-17 corridor. I figured I’d save the scenic flight for when visibility was better. I also expected visibility to be better in the Sedona area and was very surprised that it was not.

Of course, I watch the weather closely on these trips. Heck, I seldom go for more than a few hours without checking the forecast for the next three days and destinations. That’s how I knew the wind would kick up at the Grand Canyon for Day 2 and likely keep blowing through Day 3.

White Haze on Coconino PlateauThe flight to the Grand Canyon on Day 2 wasn’t anything special — except for that white haze that persisted, even up on the Coconino Plateau. Very odd for Arizona. It wasn’t blowing dust, either — the wind wasn’t strong enough for that. Just an ugly haze.

We got to the Grand Canyon in time for my guests’ helicopter tour with Maverick Helicopters. We then piled into my redneck truck, which lives at the Grand Canyon during the winter months, and went into the park. I set my guests free to enjoy their day at the South Rim and did my job: getting their luggage into their rooms. Then I relaxed in my own room. I’d been at the Grand Canyon so many times when the weather was so much better. I was tired and thought I’d take it easy for the rest of the day.

Of course, I still watched the weather. I wasn’t happy about what I saw for Day 3. Winds 25 gusting as high as 41 would make for a rough flight out of the area. And then there was the 90% chance of precipitation with 100% sky cover. The forecasters said to expect snow flurries with accumulations under 1 inch. This was a far call from the blizzard I’d experienced at Bryce Canyon the month before, so the snow didn’t worry me much. It was the cloud cover. I knew how low clouds could get at Grand Canyon Airport. If they came too low for a safe, VFR departure, we’d be stuck.

One of the drawbacks to scheduling a Southwest Circle excursion is that everything needs to be booked and paid for in advance. Last minute cancellations are not only costly, but they cause nightmares in merely making changes. For example, if we missed a Monument Valley date, we would likely not be able to stay there the next night — the place is booked months in advance. My guests were scheduled to take an Antelope Canyon Tour on Day 3 and a Lake Powell boat ride to Rainbow Bridge on Day 4. Although Antelope Canyon could likely be rescheduled, the boat trip could not. So weather delays cause nightmares for me during a trip. It’s for that reason that I usually can’t relax until we reach Monument Valley, normally on Day 4.

Grand Canyon DawnDay 3 dawned gray but with plenty of visibility. I even got out and snapped a few photos when the sun poked through some clouds and illuminated one of the rock formations in the canyon near Bright Angel Lodge, where we were staying. I grabbed some coffee, went back to my room, and checked e-mail. An hour later, I peeked out the window and saw that it was snowing.

It was 7 AM. We were scheduled to leave at 9 AM.

Over the next hour, visibility dropped to near zero and the snow came down hard and fast.

After dealing with an almost flat tire on my redneck truck, I called my guests and told them we’d be delaying departure. I got their room checkout time extended to noon.

By 9 AM, it was pretty obvious that we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I shot this video outside the Bright Angel Lodge, right on the rim of the canyon. (I added the voiceover later that night.) Trouble was, I couldn’t extend our stay at the Canyon and I had all those other activities scheduled.

My Redneck Truck, with SnowI felt bad for my guests. They’d spent a lot of money on this trip and now they were stuck at a scenic place with no scenery and no helicopter flight to get them to their next destination. So I became their driver for the day. After realizing that the truck was not likely to make it to Desert View (on the east end of the park) before the roads were cleared, we stopped at the Visitor Center and the Geology Museum before heading into Tusayan (the tourist town outside the park) for lunch. The plan was for them to see the IMAX movie across the street next.

By 1 PM, the weather seemed to be clearing out. As we ate lunch at a “steakhouse,” I came up with a plan. While they were watching the movie, I’d prep the helicopter for departure. If the visibility held, we could escape to the east and arrive in Page before dark. (I’d already rescheduled their Antelope Canyon tour for Day 5.)

Icy-covered HelicopterBut that plan failed miserably. When I got to the airport, I found the helicopter’s right side — the side facing the weather — completely iced over. The main rotor hub, the tail cone, and the tail rotor were all coated with ice. Even the skids looked frozen to the ground. And, of course, there was a good helping of snow in the fan scroll (again!) and even some inside the air intake port. The temperature had dropped by 10°F and it was now below freezing. It would not warm up again that day. The helicopter was officially grounded.

Cloudy CanyonI wound up driving them to Page. The trip should have taken just over 2 hours, but since the weather was clearing enough to see into the canyon, we made several stops along the way. We arrived in Page at 8 PM. I checked them into their room, made sure they were set for the next day’s boat ride, and checked into my room at the Day’s Inn.

Grand Canyon JuniperNow what I needed was a thaw — temperatures above 32°F. I must have called the AWOS number for GCN a dozen times before 10:30 AM on Day 4. Then I climbed into my redneck truck and made the trek down to Grand Canyon Airport. It took 2 and a half hours with just one stop to snap pictures of a very different (from the previous day) view.

The temperature was about 36°F when I arrived at the airport. The sun — my friend! — was playing hide and seek with thick, layered clouds. But the tour operators were all flying — visibility was great! Even the wind was not a factor. Most of the ice on the outside of the helicopter had melted. I just had to resort to my hot water trick to melt all the snow out of the fan scroll. After a good preflight, I started it up. A little rough at first and it took a full 10 minutes to warm up. But then I was ready to go and, after getting clearance from Grand Canyon tower, took off and headed east.

Echo CliffsThe flight was, for the most part, smooth. I ran the video camera (as you might expect) and captured some good footage over the Little Colorado River Gorge and along the Echo Cliffs. I set down on a helipad at Page Municipal Airport at 3 PM.

Today, the weather is clear with not a cloud in the sky. My guests are just finishing up their Antelope Canyon Tour. Tomorrow, we’ll continue on our way, winding up at Monument Valley in the early afternoon. So far, the forecast looks great.

Let’s hope it stays that way.

Wickenburg to Las Vegas by Helicopter

Again.

I couldn’t have asked for better weather. That’s what I was thinking as I preflighted my helicopter early on Wednesday morning.

I’d been hired to take three people from Wickenburg to the Las Vegas area with the primary objective of viewing the new bridge near the Hoover Dam from the air. My client, who had flown with me several times before, was willing to make the four-hour round-trip flight by helicopter — and pay for it — just for a look. To make the trip more worth his while, we’d also land at Boulder City Municipal Airport, where they’d rent a car and drive over to the dam for a tour. After lunch, they’d come back to the airport, climb back on board, and I’d take them for a Vegas Strip tour before returning to Wickenburg.

I’d mounted my GoPro Hero camera on the helicopter’s nose and set it up to shoot 720p video of the flight. I expected the flight up there to yield some good images and, if the camera was mounted properly, some smooth video footage. The camera seems to work best with the light behind the helicopter. On the way back, we’d by flying with the sun in front of us, so I didn’t have high expectations. Still, I brought along a pair of 16GB SD cards and the camera’s charger so I could capture it all. The images throughout this narrative are stills taken from that video.

The Flight Up

A thin, almost lacy layer of high clouds veiled the sky as we headed northwest from Wickenburg just after 8:30 AM. There wasn’t a breath of wind. The helicopter glided over the desert, 500 feet off the ground passing over cacti and other desert vegetation, open range cattle, and the occasional manmade water “tanks,” half of which were dry. Our departure from “civilization” to empty desert was almost immediate. As I often tell people, Wickenburg is on the edge of nowhere; I could just as easily say it’s a five minute flight from nowhere. We passed over a lonely ranch alongside the railroad tracks leading to Parker and beyond, then Route 71, which runs between Aguila and Congress, AZ. Then not a single building for thirty miles, when we reached the Wayside Inn and Alamo Lake.

Alamo Lake
Alamo Lake, at the confluence of the Big Sandy River, Santa Maria River, and Date Creek. The trickle of water released from the dam is the Bill Williams River, which eventually joins the Colorado River north of Parker, AZ.

I climbed not only to cross the lake within gliding distance of shore but to clear the mountains on the far side. As we crossed the lake, I was surprised by the number of campers parked alongside its shore and the boats tied up nearby. I suspected that a fishing tournament might be either starting or finishing up. The lake is popular with fisherman, which is probably a good thing. It’s so remote — heck, it’s a 90-minute drive from Wickenburg — that it simply doesn’t appeal to the typical powerboat/jetski crowd. They usually prefer Lake Pleasant, only 30 minutes from Phoenix (or Wickenburg), which is larger and far more interesting for boating.

Beyond the lake and the rugged mountains on its opposite shore was yet another stretch of empty desert. But rather than being just a flat expanse, this one was peppered with rock formations left behind by ancient volcanos. There were areas of broken basalt, including flat-topped mesas. In the distance, to our left, we could catch glimpses of the Colorado River. If we’d been in a plane, flying 3,000 feet higher, we’d have a better view of the river and mountains in the distance; at our cruise altitude of 500 to 1000 feet above the desert floor, we could clearly see the details of the rock formations, dry stream beds, and scant vegetation as we flew.

Beyond Alamo
The desert northwest of Alamo Lake is vast and empty.

Forty-five miles from Alamo Lake, we reached Lake Havasu, one of the Colorado River’s many lakes. Formed by Parker Dam far to the south, the lake widens in a broad valley. The founders of Lake Havasu City bought the London Bridge — the real London Bridge from England — and had it installed across a manmade canal as a tourist draw. The town formed nearby. It’s popular for water sports and has a huge influx of visitors during boat races and Spring Break. A friend of mine who lives there complains that the temperatures top 100°F six months out of the year.

Lake Havasu
Lake Havasu’s surface was mirror calm as we flew over, reflecting not only the graceful arches of London Bridge, but the clouds high above.

I’d chosen our route carefully. Two hours is a long time to spend in a helicopter, especially out over the desert where the terrain can be — and, up to that point had been — very monotonous. I planned the trip to follow the Colorado River, which was quite scenic. From that point on, we’d be over one shore or another or at least nearby. It would give my passengers something interesting to see for the second hour of the flight.

Indeed, the scenery along the river can be breathtaking — especially where the river narrows and passes through mountainous terrain. Topock Gorge is one of those places. Although it’s a short stretch of river and takes only five minutes or so to overfly, it’s dramatic and rugged. During the summer season, when the lake busy, speedboats roar through this area all day long. But that day, the lake was calm and quiet and we were treated to beautiful reflections of the sky and canyon walls.

Topock Gorge
Topock Gorge is one of the more scenic areas along the Colorado River between Lake Havasu City and Bullhead City.

Past the gorge, the river twists and turns in big arcs to the east and west. Rather than follow its course exactly, we headed almost due north. We passed over I-40 where it crosses the Colorado and the farms and communities built up in the Mohave Valley. This was also desert, but desert made habitable by the river that passed through it. Make no mistake: we were still miles from anything remotely resembling a real city — but at least there were people living here.

Mohave Valley
The Mohave Valley, near Needles, CA, is full of farms and small communities clustered up near the Colorado River.

A while later, we were within range of Bullhead City Airport and I called the controller for permission to transition the area along the river. Bullhead City Airport is a real oddity. It was built on the Arizona side of the river to support the casinos in Laughlin, NV. Although it’s well over 100 miles from any international border, it’s an International airport, meaning that you can fly into it from other countries and pass through customs and immigration. It even gets airline traffic; as we flew through the area, a Sun Country 737 was coming in to land. But the airport itself gets very little traffic. This might be because of the natural “wind tunnel” that funnels air up or down the river, resulting in winds that often top 20 knots. But that day, the wind was calm — the first time ever that I’d been there — and other than the jet, we were the only other traffic in the area.

Laughlin, NV
The tall casinos of Laughlin, NV across the river from Bullhead City, AZ. You can see the Bullhead City airport on the far right.

Beyond Laughlin and Bullhead City was the Davis Dam, which forms Lake Mohave. Lake Mohave is another one of the oddities of the desert. Although there are a few marinas and campgrounds along its southern shores, most of the lake is deserted and I seldom see any boat traffic on it. Again, this is likely because of its remote location — although access is easy from the Laughlin area. It seems to me that Lake Mohave would be a great place to become a houseboat hermit.

Davis Dam
The Davis Dam is just upriver from Laughlin and Bullhead City.

Lake Mohave
Lake Mohave seems like the perfect place to get away from it all on a clear, blue lake.

We flew up the eastern shore of the lake and I kept a sharp eye out for wild burros (donkeys). I’d seen them there before. While their trails were easily visible from the air, I didn’t see any animals — or people — at all.

The north end of the lake narrows considerably where the Colorado River winds through a gorge. The rock formations are rugged and starkly beautiful. This isn’t the place you’d want an engine failure — there aren’t many places for an emergency landing. But the landscape draws me to this area each time I fly up the river.

Colorado River
The Colorado River on the north end of Lake Mohave passes through a rugged gorge.

I tuned into the Lake Mead/Hoover Dam tour helicopter frequency and began monitoring communications. I knew that the area around the dam would be full of traffic and wasn’t sure what altitude pilots would be flying at. Routes and procedures are not published; my attempt to get this information from a tour operator failed miserably. (These operators apparently think they own the places they fly over and do what they can to keep everyone else out.)

I reached Willow Beach and made my first call. “Helicopter Six-Three-Zero-Mike-Lima at Willow Beach, heading for the bridge at 2500 feet.”

Some wise-ass tour pilot came on the radio and said “Which bridge? Hoover?”

What an idiotic question. There was only one bridge within 60 air miles. Which bridge did he think? What kind of morons are those tour companies hiring?

“Hoover,” I replied.

“Be advised that there will be four Maverick helicopters over the dam in about two minutes,” he replied. No indication of altitude or any other useful information.

Other pilots were more generous. Although the Papillon Pilots seemed to be crossing the river farther south at 3500 feet, the Maverick pilots were operating near the dam at 3000 feet. I planned to say at 2500 feet, which would keep me out of their way.

The bridge came into view around the same time the Maverick helicopters started appearing overhead. They were flying an odd S-shaped pattern that was obviously designed to give all their passengers a view. I did a three-quarter circle from the right to the left as my passengers leaned forward and then left to see. They got a good look — I was not prepared to loiter and they didn’t seem as if they needed me to. Then I was exiting the area along the road to Boulder City.

Hoover Dam and Bridge
The Hoover Dam and its new bridge are a popular tourist attraction for Las Vegas visitors. They’re amazing from the air.

I wasn’t finished yet, though. Another tour operator does very short tours of the dam and bridge from the Hacienda Hotel just up the road. He was preparing to launch as I flew over. He kindly said he’d wait until I’d passed by, then thanked me for talking on the radio. (Apparently, some pilots don’t — that’s a scary thought.) I thanked him for listening.

Not knowing the approach procedures for Boulder City Airport and anxious to stay out of the way of any other tour traffic, I stayed low as I crossed over the city and headed for the airport. (I was later told I’d likely get in trouble for that, but no one ever called. I guess I lucked out.) There were skydivers falling from the sky near the airport so, to stay clear, I circled around to the east and landed along one of the runways. I was still on edge from mixing with so much other traffic when I set down on one of the helicopter parking spots for the FBO.

Boulder City
Boulder City was built 90 years ago to provide a home for dam construction crews. It’s since grown to a vibrant community — the only one in Nevada that does not allow gambling.

We’d been in the air for 2.2 hours and I was ready for a break.

More about this trip in another post…

Phoenix to Lake Powell by Helicopter

Again, but this time with video.

The initial call about the January photo gig at Lake Powell came in December through one of my Russian connections. Apparently, two Russian businessmen who were attending the Consumer Electronics Show (CES) in Las Vegas wanted to photograph the Lake Powell area from the air. They were willing to pay me to fly up to Lake Powell from Phoenix and make at least two flights totaling 3 to 5 hours.

Trips like this are extremely costly — after all, the client has to pay for 4 hours of flight time just to get me up there and back — and I honestly didn’t expect it to happen. But a week before the chosen dates — January 12-13 — I got the green light and the all-important credit card number I needed to get paid for that 4 hour repositioning flight plus a standard overnight fee to cover my expenses and compensate me for my time away from home.

The Gig

Weight and BalanceI admit I wasn’t looking forward to the gig. The two photographers claimed to weigh 242 pounds (converted from kilos) and I knew they likely weighed more fully dressed and carrying camera equipment. I calculated the weight and balance as soon as I had this information and discovered that I’d have to strip all non-essential equipment out of the helicopter to lighten it up so we could take enough fuel for 2 hour flight segments (plus FAA-required reserves). Anything that was left on board would have to be shifted from under my seat to under the seat behind me, just to shift weight backwards. Having two fatties — yes, including me — up front would make us front-heavy. Having two fatties on the left side would make us heavy on that side. But even after adding 15 pounds of weight for each of them, I confirmed that’d be in balance with 2/3 fuel or less on board.

The other thing that bothered me was weather. Page, AZ was having unseasonably cold weather with daytime highs barely getting above freezing. Flying a helicopter with two doors off guarantees plenty of outside air inside the cabin and no amount of heat is going to win against 30°F outside air. So not only did I have a bit of a challenge ahead of me with a listing (but still within acceptable CG) aircraft to fly, I’d likely be freezing my ass off.

As far as the helicopter goes, I wasn’t worried about the cold weather affecting operations. My R44 Raven II is fuel injected, so carburetor ice is not an issue. I’d flown it in cold weather before and it was always peppy — once I got it started. In fact, that was my only real concern: Lake Powell photographers usually want to get off the ground at dawn for morning flights and with overnight temperatures under 20°F, I worried a bit about getting the helicopter started for its morning flight.

But the gig did have one big thing going for it: at least 4 hours of revenue time. And if there’s one thing I’m interested in, it’s getting paid to fly.

The Flight Up

Lake Powell is about 200 nautical miles north of the Phoenix area. Since my clients were paying for a 2-hour flight, my goal was to make it there in two hours. That meant flying as close to a straight line as I could.

CourseUsing Sky Vector, I plotted a course from Phoenix Deer Valley Airport (KDVT) to Page Municipal Airport (KPGA) with only one waypoint in between: the Little Colorado River Gorge (LCRG) on the east side of Grand Canyon’s Special Use Airspace. I wrote down the coordinates for the LCRG to punch them into my GPS — a recent GPS battery change had wiped my user waypoint list clean. The flight path would take me north along the east side of I-17, crossing it just before it dips down to Camp Verde. I’d cut across the Verde Valley between Sedona and Cottonwood, then climb the Mogollon Rim west of Sedona, pass east of the restricted area for the Navajo Army Depot, west of Flagstaff, and west of the San Francisco Peaks, the tallest mountain in Arizona. From there, I’d drop back down into the Navajo Reservation, flying over its western edge, hop the Echo Cliffs, and drop back down to Page, AZ.

And that’s mostly how it all came off.

I departed Deer Valley at about 8:45 AM under partly cloudy skies with little or no wind. It was a cool morning, with temperatures just climbing through the 50s. I crossed Deer Valley’s runways at 2000 feet MSL as required by the Tower there and got right on course, aiming for the LCRG waypoint I’d added to my GPS.

It was interesting and different to fly a straight line route through an area I knew so well. After all, I’ve been flying from the Phoenix area to Sedona, the Grand Canyon, Flagstaff, and Lake Powell for years, so it’s not as if the area I’d be flying over was new to me. But I usually fly with passengers on board and, to make the flight more interesting, I fly over or past various points of interest, such as towns, highways, mine sites, and canyons. On this flight, speed was the goal — I wasn’t interested in scenery. But I got scenery anyway — how can you fly a helicopter through Arizona without seeing something spectacular every mile?

As I flew, my GoPro Hero camera recorded a 720p widescreen video of the flight. Mounted up front, it offered an unobstructed view of everything ahead of me. The wide angle lens brought in details of what was close while pushing back distant points. Later that night, I’d watch much of the 2 hours of video and remember the various points of the flight.

Mountains north of PhoenixWhat fascinated me was the way the light changed throughout the flight. At first, it was partly cloudy. Then the sun slipped behind the clouds and it was cloudy. Then the sun began to break through, speckling the mountainsides with light. This still image, captured from the video, gives you an idea of what I mean. The light changed numerous times over the two-hour period of the flight — at one point, clouding over completely only 1,000 feet above me — giving the illusion that the flight was conducted over multiple days.

It wasn’t just the light that changed, of course. It was also the terrain. Flat desert in the Phoenix area, soft mountains studded with saguaro cacti as I headed north, flat mesas with steep basalt sides, deeply carved canyons, wide valleys, red rock cliffs and hoodoos, alpine forests blanketed with snow, tall mountains, ancient cinder cones, flat “painted” desert, deep gorges, buttes, uplifted cliff faces, slot canyons. I saw it all over the course of my two hour flight — all without trying to see it. My nearly straight line course simply put me over the top of all these things. I sat comfortable and warm in my seat, admiring the view as I glided over it.

Glided is definitely a good word. There was hardly a breath of wind during the entire flight so it was amazingly smooth. A pilot’s dream. And although outside temperatures dipped as low as -5°C, I was cosy and warm with the heat up only about halfway.

SedonaOne of the highlights of the flight was crossing the red rock cliffs west of Sedona and climbing up over the Mogollon Rim. The light was absolutely perfect, breaking through light scattered clouds to illuminate the rocks with a soft golden light. Absolutely breathtaking and the GoPro camera captured the whole thing.

Beyond that was a surprising amount of snow and a light overcast layer that shrouded the top of the San Francisco Peaks. The temperature there was around 0°C, but the Flagstaff ATIS reported -5°C — a real thermal inversion only 10 miles east. The low cloud layer and dimly lighted snowfields made me feel claustrophobic. Ahead of me, it looked as if some precipitation could be falling from the clouds. That got me a bit worried about icing, but I continued on. By the time I got to the point I thought I’d seen rain or snow falling, it had stopped — and so did my worries.

The only surprise on my flight was upon reaching the GPS coordinates for the LCRG. Simply said: it wasn’t there. It was about 10 miles northwest of where I’d plotted it to be. I can only assume that I’d punched in a wrong digit when I entered the waypoint into my helicopter’s GPS. So rather than fly over its most dramatic point, I crossed a bit to the east and kept going. I deleted that waypoint so I wouldn’t depend on it again. Oddly if I’d made a serious mistake in the entry, I would have noticed it a lot sooner. But because it was only off by a little bit, it wasn’t until I passed the waypoint that I realized the error. I’ll definitely be more careful in the future.

Over the RezWhen I got to the empty expanse of the Navajo Reservation, I dropped down and flew low over the ground. There were few homes in the hundreds of square miles and only a handful showed signs of life. In the video, my helicopter’s shadow is clearly visible: small when I’m flying higher and larger when I’m flying lower. The video makes it seem as if I’m going much faster during this portion of the flight, but I’m not. I managed to keep a steady 100-110 ground speed for most of the flight. It’s just an illusion: the closer the camera is to the ground, the faster I seem to be flying.

I crossed over the Echo Cliffs at Cedar Ridge — at least I think that’s where I was — and sped across more of the Navajo Reservation north. In all, I think about 45 minutes of the flight was spent over the Rez. It’s an amazing land of stark beauty, sprinkled with traditional homesteads, more modern yet simple homes, and, on its far western reaches, the ruins of abandoned homesites clearly visible as rock rings and corrals. The traditional Navajo home is a round or octagonal building called a hogan and they are clearly visible from the air. Also visible on most days are livestock such as cattle and sheep and wild horses.

I descended down toward the lake, flying at a low enough level that I didn’t actually see its clear blue water until I was about 15 miles out. Of course, I could see other landmarks — notably the bulk of Navajo Mountain about 50 miles to the east of Page and the Navajo Power Plant, with tall stacks belching ugly smoke into the air just outside of town. The radio frequency was silent as I descended toward the airport. I lined up with the taxiway and set down on one of the helipads.

The Video

Later, after doing 3.4 hours of photo flying around the lake and points east, I watched the video shot by my GoPro Hero. It was probably some of the best footage I’d ever captured with the camera. My only regret was that I hadn’t shot in in 1080p.

Over the course of two days, I assembled a movie from seven-second clips shot during that two hour flight. Last night I added titles and music. I exported it for my iPad and uploaded it to YouTube. Here it is. Enjoy.

The Two Antelope Canyons

You must see at least one of them when you’re at Lake Powell.

Antelope Canyon SquareI’m working on an itinerary for a Flying M Air excursion client. They’ve decided to customize their Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure to add another day at Page, AZ, as well as an overnight stay at Bullfrog Basin about halfway up Lake Powell.

One of the things they wanted to add to their trip was a visit to Lower Antelope Canyon. The trip includes a visit to Upper Antelope Canyon, which is the attraction that gets the most visits. I felt it important to explain the difference between these two places and provide additional information on how they could be visited. I figured this information might help others plan their visit to the Page area.

Antelope Canyon: An Overview

Let’s start with an overview of what Antelope Canyon is and how it was formed.

Upper Antelope CanyonAntelope Canyon was formed mostly by the action of water in Antelope Creek, a south-to-north arroyo southeast of Page, AZ on the Navajo Reservation. During heavy rains to the south, the normally dry creek bed turns into a stream of water that rushes northward, sometimes at dangerous flood stage levels. (Indeed, 11 tourists were killed in Lower Antelope Canyon during a flash flood in 1997.)

Lower Antelope CanyonOver time, the water has carved a series of narrow slot canyons through the red rock sandstone. Two of these slots are open to the public. Upper Antelope Canyon is south of route 98 (see top satellite photo); Lower Antelope Canyon is north of route 98 (see bottom satellite photo). Examination of satellite images of the area show additional slot canyons along Antelope Creek, but they are not open to the public.

Both canyons have restricted access. You must pay a fee to the Navajo Nation and enter the canyon with a Navajo guide.

Both canyons have smooth, carved, Navajo sandstone walls that are quite beautiful. Antelope Canyon is one of the most photographed locations in the area.

Upper Antelope Canyon

Antelope CanyonUpper Antelope Canyon is, by far, the more visited of the two. I think there are two reasons for this:

  • Tour companies based a few miles away in Page take groups of tourists directly to the mouth of the canyon, making access convenient.
  • The floor of Upper Antelope Canyon is generally level, making the canyon very accessible, even to those who are less physically fit.

Upper Antelope Canyon is about 600 feet long, carved through what looks (from the air) like a single sandstone formation. Much of the canyon is so narrow that you can touch both walls with your hands at the same time. The downsteam opening of the canyon is bright with three big “rooms.” The rest of the canyon is much darker and narrower.

Most of the photos you see of Antelope Canyon were shot in Upper Antelope Canyon. At certain times of the day and year, shafts of light come down into the canyon. Photographers often kick up sand or dust into the light shafts for interesting photographic effects.

There are two ways to visit Upper Antelope Canyon:

  • Sign up for a tour with a Page-based tour company. The fee they charge covers the fee to the Navajo Nation as well as their fee for guide service. They will provide transportation from their location in town to the mouth of Upper Antelope Canyon, usually in a large, open-backed truck with bench seats. Your driver/guide will then walk you through the canyon. Afterwards, you’ll have about an hour to explore it on your own.
  • Drive up to the park entrance on Route 98, not far from the power plant. Pay a park entrance fee and park your car. Then pay a fee to tour the canyon. You can then wait on benches there until a tour is ready to go and climb aboard the same kind of open-backed truck to reach the mouth of the canyon. The driver/guide will walk you through the canyon and give you about an hour to explore it on your own.

They’re basically the same experience, but one requires you to wait outdoors in a relatively unpleasant environment while waiting for your tour to depart.

If you’re wondering which one is cheaper, there really isn’t much of a difference in price. I prefer using a tour company based in town, strictly for convenience. If you do decide to use a tour company, I recommend Antelope Canyon Tours.

You cannot drive your car to the mouth of the canyon. You must go with a guide.

If you are interested in photographing Upper Antelope Canyon, you must read this.

Lower Antelope Canyon

Lower EntranceLower Antelope Canyon has far fewer visitors than Upper. Unlike Upper, no tour companies — at least none to my knowledge — visit it. In addition, the canyon itself requires a decent amount of physical fitness. There are ladders, narrow passages, and various places where scrambling on the smooth sandstone is necessary. Heck, even the opening of the canyon, where you descend into a crack in the rock (shown here) seems designed to keep certain folks out: a fatty simply wouldn’t fit through it.

Lower Antelope CanyonThe great thing about Lower Antelope Canyon, however, is that you have up to four hours to explore it pretty much on your own. This gives you plenty of time to shoot photos or lose yourself in thought between the smooth sandstone walls. Because there are far fewer visitors, it’s a more relaxed and pleasant place to visit. You can probably guess that I prefer it.

Lower Antelope Canyon is only accessible by driving up to the parking area, paying the fee, and getting a guide to take you down. Sometimes a guide will take you straight down; other times they make you wait. The entrance to the canyon is walking distance from parking. The guide does not stay with you. Although you’re limited to four hours in the canyon, there’s no one keeping track. You can exit the canyon the same way you entered or climb out on a series of well-built ladders on the far end and walk back along the east wall of the canyon.

Visiting Both

My clients want to visit both, which I think is a great idea. What better way to appreciate the difference between them?

Of course, since they are separate, there’s no easy way to visit both. You can save the park entrance fee — which I believe is about $6 — if you drive to Upper and then visit Lower on the same day. If you’re interested in photography, however, that means that you might not get the best light for both canyons. It all depends upon the time of year and angle of the sun. We’ll be there in March when the sun is nearly straight overhead at noon; midday seems like a good time to visit.